There's a bottle of wine in the fridge, I've been thinking about it for days; what it will taste like, the warm sensation that would form in stomach if I drank it, how quickly it could all be gone, weather I would be allowed some. It was opened a couple of days ago, I wasn't offered any. I told myself I didn't need it, didn't want it, but I do want it. So today I had a glass, one glass, but I downed it as quick as I could all the same. The rest sits in the fridge and I hope no one noticed that some has gone. I need them to trust that I can control this; It feels like this is a test. I know I'd rather drink vodka, but I'll have whatever's there.
I've been feeling really bad over the last couple of weeks. I've not cried as much this week but I've cut all across my thighs. My arms have just about healed, I need to keep them clean so that everyone thinks I'm ok. I hate that they're worrying about me. I think I'm going to die. I can't see how this will get better. I know they can't stop me, so I need them to think they're doing everything they can.
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