I can't really be arsed explaining this, but whenever summat big or significant happens, especially in relation to me being tapped and that, I can't NOT blog it. Oh, that's a bit sad- I saw an episode of Arthur where the same thing happened to Muffy (although her topics were maybe a little saner than mine. Maybe. I bet Muffy gets an eating disorder when she grows up) and that was all very tragic. So I'll try and make this quick and painless, because I have a much more interesting topic for you for my next entry. But this needs to be typed, ouioui?
I stuck a kitchen knife deeply into my hand on Wednesday, in an attempt to make a flap of skin that I could peel back, to make sure that the inside of my thumb didn't look like a chicken leg. Please feel free to laugh and scoff, call me emo or whatever. Pull a face at how disgusting it is that I did it, and how revolting it is that I'm actually now admitting to it and writing about it. I really don't mind how you choose to view that, but don't view me too harshly until I explain why I did it (apart from to check my thumb didn't look like a chicken leg, obviously), ok?
Actually, nah. I could type out a full and comprehensive time-line of the events that ran up to it, but there'd be no point- the important thing is always the significance and what comes next, rarely an event itself and besides, I can sum it up much more briefly. The whole reason for the whole thing, is that the medical profession and the NHS lack communication and were irresponsible enough to leave without the medication that would have prevented me doing it. And then had to cheek to attempt to hospitalise, and when I wouldn't agree to that, section me, because of it. Cheeky bastard. So now I'm stuck with a giant gash and a bandaged hand and an acute embarrassment over two friends who have known me a month and had to see me in that state. Thank-you, doctors. Ta.