I don’t know what happened.

I had thirty dollars that I was planning on saving. But it didn’t seem worth it. I went to Shoppers Drug Mart and looked around for awhile. Just looking for something, something, something that could help me, something that could stop it. But I don’t know them, except one. Acetaminophen. I finished the last bottle over my cramps. It cost twenty-two dollars. I was ready to go home when I saw Emma, one of my neighbors. She’s eleven. She asked me to walk with her and spent about half-an-hour playing with my geofilters on my phone. After posting two cringy pics and one video (that should have been fast-forwarded and looked slow and forced at normal speed), I made up some excuse to go back inside. While she was taking the pics and talking to some friend that was passing by, I hid the bottle in the closet right next to the door; I didn’t want to risk being seen with it inside the house in case someone was in there. Once inside, I washed the dishes and swept — Mother complained that I wasn’t doing enough around the house — and waited for them to come back. Once they did, I slipped away into the basement. I found my dismantled razor the I took for Mother’s bathroom and hid in my nightgown the day before. I tried it out on my wrist. It was small, but it hurt like hell. It reminded me of Blue, from Girl in Pieces, that needed to get high to burn or cut. I don’t get high and my lighter is slowly dying, I should buy a new one. I only have seven dollars now. I need to pay my overdue fines from the Toronto Public Library. I guess I’ll have to see what I can do with what I have.

2017-03-02