i’m great at ruining things :D

i have three purple-grey scars in the middle of my cheek because i picked at this one spot of acne over and over throughout my short fiction tutes at the end of last semester then through my figure in performance tutes on thursday afternoons this semester and finally i have acne scars. i plucked the scabs as soon as they formed, over and over and over, i just could not stop, and the blood ended up smeared over my cheeks in class and i couldn’t even hide it and it was embarrassing. this is a breadth subject. in three more weeks it won’t matter whatsoever in my life. for this i’ve traded my skin. every day i am either sluggish and get nothing done or i am jittery beyond belief and get everything done, there is no in between, whenever i am working efficiently i am panicky and that panic has to go somewhere and it used to go to my hair, i used to pluck it out strand by strand and i spent the better part of year 12 with a big bald triangle over the top of my head, like a balding old man, and behind my back people called me bald girl. now i (mostly) don’t pull out my hair anymore, instead i knead blobs of blue tac with obsessive fingers for hours at a time so that the panic has somewhere to go and blue tac is hard when it’s cold, it’s hard to mould, and my fingers knead knead knead and under the pressure my knuckles go click click click. it’s been, what, almost two years since i was in year 12? two years since i replaced my compulsive disorder with playing with blue tac and now my hands hurt. in between the bones lined up in my hand it hurts. it hurts out of nowhere, my hands ache and sometimes they sting deep under their webbing and all the delicate little joints in my hands click now no matter what i’m doing, and i think, i traded my hands for what? for what? an 82.003 wam? a syntax assignment? 

i know all this and i can’t even break out haha. when i lock my blue tac away to stop myself from ruining my fingers i go right back to ruining my hair, as if the last two years of ‘healing’ never happened. i’m back to being anxious at the sight of bathroom mirrors and my reflection in city glass and bright sunlight because it lights up everything. last semester i went through hell doing all my major subjects at once just so this semester i could chill and have just a couple of random breadth and discipline subjects and i told myself i wanted myself to never stress again but look at me, look what i’ve done to my hands and my skin and my hair. i want my body back. sincerely, i’m suffocating in my own head