Dumb reminders.

Dumb Reminders.
That's the title of a song by a band called No Use For A Name.
It's kinda ironic I decided to use that as a title for this little "entry" here...seeing as they're called no use for a name. Well, it's not really ironic so much...
But I felt like adding in a little fun fact, shoot me. =D

I'm trying here I really am, trying to forget about all the things that I can't stop thinking about.
I'll be good for a while, until I notice, dang.
Those marks, they seem to be everywhere I look.
Even under bandaids, clothes, I still feel them.
Little reminders that I'm weaker than I thought I was. Little reminders of the fact that I suck at coping. The broken pieces of glass in my drawer, little reminders.
Also another fun fact, I've got eczema, which is stress-induced.
And the little itchy bumps that are seeming more abundant daily remind me no matter how much i try to fool myself into thinking I'm fine, even my body is telling me to deal with it.
Saying, "Caiti! This avoidance technique you've developed and have clung to the last 19 years isn't going as well as you thought."

But every time I try to reform, nothing's accomplished and I end up crying, and I fucking hate crying.

So I'm sorry, body. You keep trying to tell me I need to fix it, but I don't know what to tell you.