What was I even angry about in the first place? Something small and stupid I'm sure. But it escalated. It escalated to breaking glass...smashing it under my fist, closing it around the pieces to break them further inside my grip, locked in the bathroom, in the dark.
And realizing no one cared. Not so much as a knock and "Are you OK?"
I could kill myself in here and you'd never know because you didn't care enough to even see if I was OK
But could I? Could I really? Here's information for the masses...it's really frickin' hard to pull the blade out of a disposable razor. But McGuyverette here managed it within 20 minutes or so. Not a single mark on me from the razor (well, except a little knick on one knuckle when I slipped a little) just to prove that had I wanted to, I COULD. And what would the 'caring boyfriend' be doing? Fucking sleeping, ignore the crazy girl in the bathroom and maybe she'll go away.
SHE WILL NOT GO AWAY!
And oh yes, you will notice me. Added info: Those wrist bones that stick out bruise easily when you pound them against a wall in frustration. Also: Apparently you can break a cell phone by tossing it on your car seat in cold enough weather that the display shatters, but you can't break a cheap camera even by repeatedly throwing it against a bedpost.
(Later, when things had calmed down
"You didn't break it though?"
"Nope."
"How do you know?"
"When I was done throwing it..."
"Yeah?"
"I took a picture. It still worked.")
Yeah, so now my hands are a little cut up (not too bad for crushing glass in them though....raaaAAAARRR!) and my wrists are hurting hella bad.
And yes. I finally got a little fucking attention. Not all how I wanted but...that's another story. He said "If you want me to leave, I will." That was never even an option...
So things are all right between us again but...Oh God, things are NOT all right....
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