Emergency kits.

Fuck it. He found my found box of medicine. Threw it out I assume.
I bought sutures.
The infection scare with my last overzealous endeavor and the three months of having my insides displayed and weeping for the sixth time convinced me maybe I should up my self care post Rachel.
Hopefully I won't need it until after I can get some sore of medical grade numbing agent. Unless I just don't need it.
I'm going to make kits. I have the boxes scalpels, blades and now medical shit to stitch me back together just in case.
Everything is so fucked up.
Everything I am is fake.
I work so hard for everything.
Keep it secret keep it safe.