(no subject)

Irritation floods my veins, annoyance pulsing through my body with every heartbeat. I'm running hot and cold. Nothing feels right - even my skin doesn't seem to fit properly. I want to scratch pale skin with sharp nails until I bleed.
Too tired to stay awake, too alert to sleep, everything grates on my strung out senses.
Strands of hair cry to be sliced off, to fall to the floor, but following that path, regrets will abound.
Tears well behind reddened eyes, teeth grind together in the not-quiet-enough silence. Scalding water cascading over scrubbed raw skin is half heaven, half hell.
Slash the bonds of feeling. Numbness is a coveted commodity in this haze of jittery agitation.
A walking contradiction, I crave sensory deprivation.