Listen . . . May 28, 2003 (Stew)
6:40pm
For the past several days I’ve felt twitchy. My right hand keeps trembling, and at times I feel the trembling up into my elbow. My breath seems ragged to me, and my heart feels like it’s pounding faster than normal. I’ve been trying to take my anti-anxiety pills when I notice this coming on, but it hasn’t seemed to be helping much.
I just got up from a nap. Before getting up I had visions… though these weren’t of cutting myself. These were of actually cutting something off. I thought and envisioned a number of different ways to cut off my middle finger on my left hand. I thought about using my cigar cutter, though it’s over at Monique’s place right now. And then I thought about the couple of knives I have, and which one would be better for it – the Wilkenson self sharpening carving knife; or the heavier and stronger butchering knife. It’s a good sized hunk of bone that I would have to chop through, and I’d really only get one good chance at it. Just hacking away at it seems like it would just take too much time and effort.
It’s like that guy who was in the paper a few weeks ago… the mountain climber who got stuck underneath a boulder and he used his pocket knife to cut his arm off so that he could free himself. My arms are pretty thick. To use a pocket knife to do something like that just seems very labor intensive. Not something I think I could do. But the finger, I think I could do.
But to what end? What would that accomplish? Would I be satisfied with just one finger, or would I continue to do it over the years and be left with, well, a finger-less hand. That would sure decrease my typing speed a lot.
But why do I think about it? Why is it now almost a compulsion in me to have to find out what the consequences would be if I chopped off a finger? Why do I feel like it’s the next logical step?
What am I feeling? I’m feeling scared. Of what? Of just stuff. I was lying there in bed, and the thought, “I should read the Bible while I’m here, and awake.” But I didn’t want to. And then I felt guilty. I feel like I’m not being as devout or as “good” as I should be when I don’t cater to those religious whims that come over me. I feel as if I’m denying God. And the last thing I want to have happen is for God to deny me.
I took a look at the Books to Prisoners website. Those people appear to have a completely different philosophy than I do. Sounds like they were amongst the protesters during the WTO riots a few years back. I just want to help get reading material out to who wants it, I don’t want to get involved in some anti-establishment organization that sees big corporations and big money as being evil. I like big corporations. Some of my often used items come from big corporations.
For the past several days I’ve felt twitchy. My right hand keeps trembling, and at times I feel the trembling up into my elbow. My breath seems ragged to me, and my heart feels like it’s pounding faster than normal. I’ve been trying to take my anti-anxiety pills when I notice this coming on, but it hasn’t seemed to be helping much.
I just got up from a nap. Before getting up I had visions… though these weren’t of cutting myself. These were of actually cutting something off. I thought and envisioned a number of different ways to cut off my middle finger on my left hand. I thought about using my cigar cutter, though it’s over at Monique’s place right now. And then I thought about the couple of knives I have, and which one would be better for it – the Wilkenson self sharpening carving knife; or the heavier and stronger butchering knife. It’s a good sized hunk of bone that I would have to chop through, and I’d really only get one good chance at it. Just hacking away at it seems like it would just take too much time and effort.
It’s like that guy who was in the paper a few weeks ago… the mountain climber who got stuck underneath a boulder and he used his pocket knife to cut his arm off so that he could free himself. My arms are pretty thick. To use a pocket knife to do something like that just seems very labor intensive. Not something I think I could do. But the finger, I think I could do.
But to what end? What would that accomplish? Would I be satisfied with just one finger, or would I continue to do it over the years and be left with, well, a finger-less hand. That would sure decrease my typing speed a lot.
But why do I think about it? Why is it now almost a compulsion in me to have to find out what the consequences would be if I chopped off a finger? Why do I feel like it’s the next logical step?
What am I feeling? I’m feeling scared. Of what? Of just stuff. I was lying there in bed, and the thought, “I should read the Bible while I’m here, and awake.” But I didn’t want to. And then I felt guilty. I feel like I’m not being as devout or as “good” as I should be when I don’t cater to those religious whims that come over me. I feel as if I’m denying God. And the last thing I want to have happen is for God to deny me.
I took a look at the Books to Prisoners website. Those people appear to have a completely different philosophy than I do. Sounds like they were amongst the protesters during the WTO riots a few years back. I just want to help get reading material out to who wants it, I don’t want to get involved in some anti-establishment organization that sees big corporations and big money as being evil. I like big corporations. Some of my often used items come from big corporations.
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