Cut Cut Cut Pt. 1

On December 3, 2010 somewhere between 10:10 AM and 10:30 AM I hurt myself. 

The wounds were superficial; they didn't bleed much, and they weren't very deep. 

But the psychological scars ran to my core. 

My morning began badly. I awoke at 6:30, begrudgingly to take my medication (Concerta for ADD) and then  to study for a math quiz I'd forgotten about. I had planned on getting a shower, eating breakfast, and studying.

But I couldn't get out of bed.
As 6:35 rolled around, I buried my face in my pillow, awaking again at 7. This time I cried into my pillow, hugging myself and rolling up against the wall in an attempt to keep from shattering into a million pieces.

Rocking back and forth, I argued with myself.
You should go to class.
No.
You need to go to class. There's still time. Skip the shower, study. You have a quiz. 
No. I don't...I can't....I'm not good enough. I can't do it. I'm going to fail.
You have to take that quiz. You're not going to be able to pull off a B without it. 
It doesn't matter. I'm not good enough. I suck. I fail at life. I can't.
.........
I'm going back to sleep.
You should....forget it. Fail your quiz. You fucking suck. 




So I rolled over and went back to sleep, tears rolling down my cheeks as I wallowed in self loathing and regret. I made the conscious decision to skip everything in lieu of sleep, of keeping my fragile sense of self together.

I woke up again at 9:05, and stumbled out to take my other medicines. I saw my roommates and nodded at them, bleary eyed and in pain.
But they couldn't help. They were just there.