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  • Yesterday evening, my hands, both of them, the heels of them, met my temples with great force. It was almost a slapping noise. I struck very hard, and very quickly – my lover was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. I did not want her to hear me, and took advantage of her electric toothbrush's whirring to gauge whether or not I could keep going.

    She comes back and my head is ringing, but it is not racing, which is what it was doing before. Earlier, I had my face covered with both my hands, hyperventilating, and clawing at my scalp. I did this, and I thought that this was child-like, and it was, but I was hiding; I was hiding from my lover, from the conversation that had been resolved, and then unresolved. And it got heated, so she went to the bathroom and I hit myself repeatedly.

    We talk more, and then it's late, and I'm more wired than I want to be, but somehow, we settle down, we fuck, and then we sleep. Then we wake up, and we're fighting again, same thing, same topic, same circles, same feelings. I'm showing her my e-mail, she's reacting, I'm defending myself, and somehow we're showering together, but she's crying, and then we're dressed, and we're talking, and then she's crying again, really fucken letting loose, I mean, sloppy, wet, heavy crying. I'm hugging her, we're in the bathroom, then I have to go to work, so I do, but I take a knife with me so that when I finally get a moment to myself, I can cut myself up; given the meeting I have to attend for the first half of my day, those slashes in my skin will be the high point of my fucking day.
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