hopelessly_passive

god.

I scared myself the other night. I cut--it didn't look
that bad really, but I bled--rather heavily--from 11:30
p.m. to three in the morning. I was terrified that I would
actually have to go get stitches. I was afraid that I'd
finally have to give control of the situation to someone
else. That doesn't sound so bad. But the idea fills me
with a cold, unreasonable, paralyzing fear. I will not
tolerate someone else taking control of the situation I
have created. A doctor, with authority and stitches at his
disposal. I will let I don't know what happen first. I
almost did. I woke freezing cold and covered in my own
blood and wondered yet again why I keep letting myself do
this to me. And why it makes me feel so much better and so
much worse at the same time.