I’ve figured out my trigger and I bet it looks a lot like yours. The rejection; the soul crushing, isolation driving, wrist slitting severity of a fucking read text message is what gets me. I’m regurgitating my jumbled mess of a mind to you, lovely audience, instead of my stowaway blades. I wonder what it is that makes the physical response so blown out of proportion...? At this point I feel like the solution is to never expose myself, to remain constantly closed so people can never enhance my own insecurities. It’s my own neurosis that drives me to read so much into the smallest of actions (at least I hope I’m not right). Say I am right? Then what? What would it really matter if each and every person was repulsed by me. I’d still carry all of the love and respect I have for myself (lol fucking light load). Maybe I’ll run away from a society that demands so much of me, such measured responses to each and every thing. Yeah I’m not really looking for any particular response. It’s more satisfying to scream into the void when you know someone’s listening.