dear diary

chapter 33

It was another one of those nights. The ones where I toss and turn, subconsciously trying to wake up, but unable to as my soul leaves my body and I'm forced to relive the worst day of my life over and over again.

I had another nightmare, except this one lasted even longer than the others. It was the car accident, my father stabbing me, and then it was the next day when I woke up unaware of my surroundings, in a hospital bed two states away from home.

You'd think after having them so many times they wouldn't have such an effect on me, but they do and they always will.

I also somehow managed to rip apart my cuticles in my sleep, dry blood on my sheets and the burning in my fingers is proof that even unconscious I'm unable to completely suppress that habit.

Overall, it was a pretty shitty night. It's five am now, and I'm meant to leave for school in an hour and a half, but I've spent the last two hours with my eyes wide open, counting the cracks on my ceiling like I tend to do when I'm unable to fall asleep.

I'm fucking exhausted, but when am I not? I think the most cruel part, though, is that the nightmares always seem to hit when I finally get my shit together. Maybe they're the universes way of telling me I don't deserve happiness.

I decide to stop sitting around, and try to do something that will distract me before I have to leave for school. I considered staying home, but what good would that do? I should probably call Chase too, but I'll just tell him when I see him.

I know he told me to call him when they happen, but I never really planned on doing that. Why should he wake up and deal with my shit? I know he cares, and wants to help, but I don't think it's necessary to burden someone else.

I walk to the bathroom and take my pajamas off, throwing them in the laundry bin because there is blood on them from my fingers. I'm almost mad at myself for picking them, I've been doing so well, but I didn't even know I was doing it.

I turn the shower on, turning the water the hottest it can go, steam immediately filling the bathroom as I step inside the shower and shut the curtain.

I step under the water, the temperature burning my skin but it serves as a nice distraction. I stand under the water for a good five minutes, the stream of water from the shower head effectively making my tears invisible as I can't help but think about the nightmare.

I'm not sure what's harder, the nightmare itself or constantly thinking about it the day after.

I lean my back against the wall, the coldness of the tiles almost shocking my hot skin as I slide down, my ass hitting the floor as I bury my face in my hands.

If this isn't rock bottom I'm not sure what is.

I'm not sure how long I sit there, with my head in my hands like a pathetic piece of shit, but knocking on the door snaps me out of my daze.

"Delaney? You've been in there for an hour, what's going on?" I hear my mother, who should've left for work an hour ago.

"Aren't you meant to be at work?"

"I'm running a little late, do I need to come in there?" She says, and for some reason her words only make me cry harder.

I hear the door open, and her hand reaches through the curtain to shut the water off before she opens it and throws a towel around my body.