Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

Went for steak at Tim's house last night. Damn fine steak, flavoured with Honey Dijon Tapenade or some such holy spicing. Unreal tasty. Then had a burger.

Don't go cutting yourself so that my steaks taste better.

Weird that he's the second person to say something like that to me in such a small time span, although the time period is the one that makes the most sense. And I'm so throughly glad that I'm not that kind of person, because I'm certain they exist. Hurt yourself seriously to gain some temporary positive outcome. I stare at my hand and see an enventuality, an err in judgement, a piece of larger puzzle. But I certainly don't see a tasty steak, or the smile on her face.

Last August/September, I turned twenty-three and saw that the world was mine for the taking. Freedom, blessed freedom had granted me something that had eluded me for so long: happiness and self-worth. These things come from within, and I finally saw them.

Soon, I'll be turning twenty-four and the last year has taught me that you don't fix yourself by removing the knife, you fix yourself by healing. An absence of bad things in one's life is not enough to break a lifetime of habit. I had thought it had been, but my hand is a testament to that being not true.

To answer Tim's question: No, I'm not fine, but I am ok. And I can talk about it, which makes me happy. I'm figuring my shit out, and along the way they'll be high points and low points.

I think 7 stitches can be referred to as a low point. But certainly not a setback. Part of the process.