Last night

I've read stories about people who cut. I've seen them talk in front of school assemblies. I've seen people in movies who are suicidal and slit their wrists. I think all those people imply that they need the pain to feel better, or maybe they need it so they feel something. I can't explain how it was with me. It wasn't like that, though. I didn't want to hurt myself and I am the biggest baby in the world when it comes to getting hurt. I just wanted to see the blood. I wanted to watch it appear slowly, creeping out of the tiny slit in the middle of the scratch. I wanted to wipe it away and smudge the red color so it stained my pale skin. I wanted to watch it drip from the bigger scratches. It calmed me. There are things you can control and things you can't. I guess you can control what I had done, and because I didn't want to turn into someone crazy I stopped. I don't want to do it again.

This morning Keith kept asking if something was wrong. He thought I was mad-pissed even. I don't get mad. He knows that. I get sad, I cry, but I don't get mad very much. If I had to pick the emotion I express the most it would be happy. Happy is good. And I doesn't take much to make me smile, or laugh, or feel good about myself. I used to joke that I had a natual way of getting high and it was called being happy.

I don't know how to say it to him but when I have just had the kind of night when my feelings are mixed up and all over the place, I don't need to be told sorry a hundred times. I need to be held. He did hold me, and we took a mid morning nap together. That was really nice.

I really hope this isn't a bad omen.

I am going to take it as a one time thing. If he drinks again this week or next, forgets me again...well, I will have to think that last night was a bad omen.

However today is a new day and bad omens are only superstitions. Perhaps this was one-time and will not be repeated. In fact, I am going to move on as if it didn't even happen.

He really is a good boyfriend. He really does make me smile. He knows me really well and I like to think I know him pretty well, too. There are always new things we learn about each other and I like that because in 50 years we might still be learning things about each other.

I didn't mean to sit here ranting. Rants are not even cool. They are not awesome in any way and do not make for happy Ninas. Happy Ninas are good and make everyone else around them happy. Now I know Nina is not plural, but if I were, there would be a billion of me. They would all have red hair, nice personalities, and super nice boyfriends. Named Keith.

Life is not a picnic. Sometimes you are jobless with very little money and bills from the hospital and your college. Ahem. Relationships are not a picnic all the time either. Sometimes you get into fights, or make each other unhappy, or break promises accidently, or spill litter all over the floor or do something stupid. Shit happens. C'est la vie. But love is what makes everything better. Its like a band aid but in a good way. So I know I am lucky to have someone who loves me. I love him back and am gonna show him how much when he gets home later.