i haven't felt nervous round knives in quite a while. i picked up a pair of scissors and sliced my hand tt day and the pain hit me hard like a plastic bag filled with marbles. it was almost a tiny cut- only 1cm- but deep enough to draw blood and disturbing enough to bridle my lame halfhearted suicide attempt.

there are some memories tt don't just go away. they stick. hitting my head doesn't work, as with other tried and tested methods. hmm. never mind. let me tell you how i like to imagine i am a ballerina.

when i was in primary school, someone told me tt if you did ballet, your toes and toenails would crack and bleed. i also wondered why anyone would voluntarily walk round like a duck while having to squeeze your butt in. i think it was last year or something, i walked into one of those outdoor heartland events and there were some pple from some dance company doing ballet. and i was in awe. How oddly titillating those pirouettes and synchronised tippy toed movements suddenly seemed. but anyway, i've always liked dnacing and monkeying round to music. oh yay.

:: Symphony 92.4