Perfected :: Her Body :: Greek Necessity :: Deep Throats :: Scrolls

Howling at the Moon. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I'm sick of turning into the Evil Bitch Monster of death three days out every thirty, I'm sick of having to bite my tongue and turn my phone off in fear of what I might say. This time of the month, I'm out for blood. When I'm not crying, I'm resisting the urge to worry at that weak spot everyone has until it bleeds. I won't be satisfied until everyone around me is as miserable as I am, when all I want to do is lie down on the floor and howl at the moon. I'll take it out on anyone, ripping them to pieces shred by bloody shred in the hope it will make me feel better when it never, never does. Then the guilt sets in, thick and sticky, and I cry in public, in private, outside Ikea and on the train. I'm a psychotic bitch just before my period and it takes every ounce of willpower I have to hold myself back. There's no *point* screaming until I'm blue in the face at the last people I would ever want to hurt. Won't stop me doing it though. What might stop me is my secret desire not to be The Crazy Ex. The one you mention despairingly to the love of your life (or the love of that week/month/undisclosed time period). It stopped me discussing the fact that I cut myself to someone who might actually have been able to help. On the flip side it's stopping me lashing out because I know I don't really want to cause pain, it's just some crazy hormonal thing. Evening Primrose oil is called for, methinks. ______________________________ we have come so far :: it is over

Accomplishment :: The Moon :: Toga :: Night Flower