Emotional Thunder n' Rants

I'll be honest.
Yesterday I felt down. Not necessarily into suicide territory, but just so sad.
It's a mixture of fear, anticipation, loneliness, anger, and just a deep sorrow.
I can't really explain it. It has hung around so much.
Earlier I was wearing a white shirt and I was drinking some Dr. Pepper in the car. My grandpa decided to fuck with me, even after I told him I wanted a drink. So he decided to slam on his breaks, several times while I was trying to drink. Long story short - it spilled all over me. In white.

Once we got home, I ran inside and changed, grabbed my blades, and told them I was going for a walk.
I was hoping that walking would distract me, but it didn't. Not so much.
Earlier (before the whole incident with my grandpa), my dad saw some of my cuts. The one he pointed out is the one that says 'fat' carved into my left bicep. He goes 'I thought we were done with this cutting bullshit.' He also asked me why I had done it, which I don't have an answer for. There's no way I could ever make anyone understand why I do it, unless you've been there.
It took everything I had not to laugh in his face or reach for the blades again. I've got to be really careful now. The cut I had from the middle of May is still healing. But now I've got dozens of more to deal with, and probably more to follow.

I'm in such a concentrated state with my self destruction, I don't think anyone can pull me out. Cimiron maybe.. But he doesn't have the keys. He can't, therefore, save me.
Oops. Did I say save me? My bad. I don't need saving. He could help me get out of here. But this.. Self destruction.
It's what I'm good at. It's what I know. It's natural for me.
I'm crazy. A quack.
If I wasn't, I wouldn't find pleasure or satisfaction is harming myself.

I don't really know where this post is going.. I'm just writing. It feels good.. But this post doesn't make sense. Lol sorry..