I am being serenaded by Jesse McCartney. Make it stop? D:

oh dear me

Last night, I drank more than I should have, and I drank it too quickly.

And then the anger came. And I don't know where it came from. And nothing set it off. It just came and hit me and then I ended up scrambling out of Aaron's arms from the kitchen to the living room, bashing my head against the floor because it was the only way I could hurt myself, ranting about MotherFuckingFinGETTHEFUCKOUTOFMYHEADIT'SBEENMONTHSANDI'MBETTEROFFWITHOUTYOUSexAaronLoveWhyNotYetWhatDoYouMeanNotYetFamilyFuckingWorthlessPieceofShitTrashWhorePatheticStupidBitchthatIam.

My wrists are sore from Aaron holding me back from myself. Reports vary--it lasted anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour and a half. He said "hit me" and I went limpwon'tdoit. Chantal held my hand when I was calmed down enough. We all ate lava cake afterwards and I sheepishly apologized and leaned against Aaron. I was still drunk.

Aaron said it was the worst he'd ever seen me. I think that was the worst I'd ever seen me, too.

I think I need to call Kathleen next week.