I Didn't Vomit

My stomach turned over and inside out,
I thought it would reject all I had put it through last night.

Not just the alcohol,
But the cuts and the ache of seeing him with somebody who wasn’t me and the fact that I touched him in a way I never should have thought of touching him.

I wanted to vomit those feelings up.
I wanted my body to reject it all.
Maybe I would feel less guilty or less embarrassed or less disgusting or less worthless or less like a piece of shit.

I turned over in my bed
Searching for water or aspirin or my phone.
My eyes suddenly fixated on a small, yellow legal pad with big, hardly legible writing.
I had to read the note I had written to myself:

You are a fucking idiot. What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re a selfish fucking cunt that needs to get over herself! A fucking whore like you shouldn’t still be living. Why don’t you just fucking kill yourself, Haylee? You are a disgusting piece of shit!

Did I really hate myself that much?

I tore the pages out and ripped them to shreds.

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