4:38 p.m. --- conversing with self. --- 2005-01-15
i awoke this morning, my head full of strange Harry Potter dreams. gray morning light leaked into my room through my black-out shades and my fans echoed mechanically. i sat up at tried to remember my dreams, which had involved riding a broomstick into the Dark Forest with Professor Snape, and Dean and Seamus painting their faces scarlet for a reason i couldn't remember.
"and you don't know why you cut either, do you?" a nasty little voice in my head whispered.
'of course i know why i cut,' i reasoned cautiously. 'i talk about it with Amy all the time.'
"oh, and you believe everything she says? you're so sad. stupid attention-seeking child."
'i am not an attention-seeking-'
"listen. just shut up for a second. every time you cut your mother finds out. whenever you're depressed you're mother somehow knows. you're obvious, artless, worthless."
