I worry.

I worry.
I worry about the state of the world;
about the people in Gaza,
in Ferguson, in Iraq, in Pakistan, in India.

I worry about the women
who are leered at,
attacked, abused, discriminated against,
reduced and stripped away to only their gender.

I worry about men
who are taught that they are better
(Or worse: that we are weaker);
who feel entitled to more money,
more freedom,
to sex.

I worry about the children
who are forced to work,
and aren't allowed to go to school,
and have no hopes for a better life.

I worry, selfishly
or not i do not know, about myself.
About how im stuck in a situation
i cannot seem to change;
a situation i do not know
if i can ever get out of.

I worry about how I might not ever leave;
about how my future will be dictated
by what others choose for me;
about how I will never have any say in anything
because if I try I will be told I'm not behaving.

And it terrifies me. 

Guess who's relapsing tonight

Probably me

Do you ever just have one of those where you haven't been productive at all and that triggers you for some reason and all you want to do is to punish yourself in some way and you can't because you don't want to go back there and it just keeps eating you away all day and you eventually get nothing done?

So I was just reading something, and it said, people tend to fall for someone who's a lot like their parent. And I immediately thought, "No???". If someone I liked acted towards me like my dad does, I would probably start hating them with a vengeance. Like, why would I be attracted to someone who's abusive towards me? Why in the world would I fall in love with someone who is arrogant, uptight, close-minded, and bipolar? Why would I love someone who says I could go kill myself and it wouldn't matter? It makes no sense.
And then there's one other thing. If anyone even touches me in a non-loving way, I would probably leave with no second thought. You even lay a finger on me, when you're angry (not in an angry sex way. In a violent way) you bet your ass, I'll be gone.
This whole Daddy Issue bullshit doesn't make any sense to me. I'd rather kill myself than love someone like that. 

Strong

I sit on the closed toilet seat. This is where I come when I need to collect my thoughts. When I need to get my shit together. It used to be where I lost my shit (pun intended) but not anymore. Out of the corner of my eye, I see red lines on my thigh. I see blood oozing out of the cuts. But when I look down, they’re gone. Instead, they’re replaced with white lines. There are no fresh cuts. Only scars of those done months ago. Memories. I consider adding a few more. But no. I haven’t done it in a long time. I shouldn't start again now. I am okay. I am strong.