Terrible running day. I didn’t finish. Noah has to leave. I have to smoke first. I can’t take care of my kids when I am crying as hard as I have been crying for two hours. I can’t take care of my kids when the only thing going through my mind is wondering what would actually kill me if I jumped off an overpass in front of a semi. Head trauma? Crushing my lungs? Blood loss slowly on the side of the road?

I feel petty and stupid and immature and like an asshole. I am so selfish. So stupid. And pretty much everything in my head is stuff I have said before with no effect. So I can’t say it again.

I found an extra scalpel blade a while ago. I didn’t throw it away. It is in new packaging and I found it going through stuff. That’s the kind of life I have. “I was going through a box and I found a spare scalpel blade.” I want to cut. I want to cut more than I want to breathe. Significantly more. So much that I am shaking with how much I want it. I want it. I fucking want it. I want to bleed. I want to see it.

I have to take the kids to the park so I can run fourteen laps around the soccer field. I need to be more stoned first. Maybe I don’t actually have to do fourteen laps. Technically the walk to and from the park will be far enough to make up the miles. Maybe we’ll just go to the park and I’ll push Calli on the swing. I’m not sure I can be responsible for anything else today.