So.

•January 30, 2009 • Leave a Comment

I haven’t written in a while. I don’t know, I feel like all my posts are getting… repetitive. I guess I’ve been up and down. A few weeks ago, after I realized I could not do this anymore, I attempted to throw a number of things away; laptop, cellphone, Ipod, clothes, the comforter to my bed… I don’t know. I didn’t feel I needed it anymore. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself but whatever “this” was, I couldn’t do it. I’m still not sure if I can do it. I don’t know… if I care anymore. Haven’t been sleeping normally… The night before I got 11 hours of sleep, woke up at around 8 a.m. Today, I went to bed at 11-ish and barely slept at all. I woke up at 6:15 for a midterm… and wasn’t tired at all.

We’re giving up the downstairs “apartment” again. I guess a friend of my stepdad’s needed a place to stay… and he has a son about my age. I feel like we needed that space… I needed that space. It’s not the same being restricted in your own house… especially when you’ve grown up in the space that’s being given away. I will miss it… although it was often tainted by my stepdad. I don’t know, I am utterly repulsed by him.

My mother wants me to get my working papers. But I need to have a physical. I don’t want a physical. I hate… loathe… the doctor’s office. I don’t understand why I need to undress. I may just refuse…Why should I? They’ll have to deal with it. Especially because what if I relapsed and did it again? Would they notice? What would they do? What if they see the scars? Meh, I don’t know.

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What did I do?

•January 2, 2009 • Leave a Comment

I dyed my hair black. I made a video that scares me, shows how ridiculous I am. Deleted that video because I got tired of looking at my face. Put my facebook status as “Doesn’t know anymore.” Deleted that status. Delete all of my pictures off facebook, got tired of looking at my face. Went on AIM, looking for a friend. Found no one, deleted my status and signed off. Cried while staring at a picture of someone. Told myself people care. Told myself no one cared. Cut myself on video. Deleted that video. Made it again. Deleted it again. Thought about suicide. Came on here and wrote this. Feeling weird. Feeling unsafe. Feeling safe. Feeling angry, sad, disappointed, worthless, sick. Thinking about cutting, thinking about dying, thinking about living, thinking about hope, thinking about Thirteen Reasons Why, thinking about going to sleep, thinking about never waking up, thinking about how long it’s said “2:37 AM” on the computer screen. No help needed, I’m okay. Venting. Not in the mood to type normal sentences. Wondering why I have to document everthing I’ve done for the past 20 minutes. Punching self for doing what I did, I was doing okay.

I don’t know anymore. I really just don’t know. I want to hide. I want to go for a walk. I want to curl up in a ball and stare into space. I want, I want, I want. To be happy. Forever. Eternal bliss, forever and ever and ever. And ever. And ever. And ever, why do I keep typing? Must keep typing. Can’t stop, won’t stop. That’s from a song. Should I post this? Analyze me, tear it apart and tell me what’s wrong. Fix me, fix me fix me. I should have gone to bed three hours ago. I want to sleep forever, everything goes away when I’m asleep.

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Failure

•December 15, 2008 • 1 Comment

I like that word too. It’s almost as tasty as fuck. Anyway, so I wasn’t quiet today, and I almost told  friend I wanted to hurt myself that very second, but instead I told him I just needed quiet time. Everyone needs quiet time. He said he was depressed, I wanted to comfort him and make it all better.  No one needs to feel remotely how I feel. Especially not him. So I tried to decode my mind for someone else. You can read that attempt in my response to Gabriel’s comment.

I’m not sure what I did there, but I figured I should post it before I get second doubts and tell him that those questions don’t make sense to me because I am perfectly happy and have never had mean thoughts before, which would contradict the whole purpose of my writing here. I’m supposed to be to be completely truthful here. These writing are the deepest inner most workings of my chaos, all spilt here in a jumble of symbols for your poor little mind to solve. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t waste your time reading these posts! You have other things you could be doing! But I do so appreciate you reading them. I do.

So now, I’m going to try and not cut(and most likely fail) and then I will try to sleep(and most likely fail). Goodnight.

Posted in Alone, confusion, cutting, Self-injury
Tags: , , , ,

Ah. Fuck.

•December 14, 2008 • 7 Comments

Pardon the language. Actually no, I’m done trying to make it all better. Trying to be the person you want me to be, or the person I think you want me to be.

I am so confused right now, although it’s nothing new. This  fucking chaos inside my head is driving me insane. The pressure of it all might just make my head explode. PLEASE, JUST GET IT OVER WITH. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of smiling at you while I fight the urge to run screaming down the hallway with bleeding wrists. While I fight the urge to throw myself off the fucking roof. I wonder if it will make that splat noise like it does in cartoons. Or will it just make that stomach-turning thud. The sound of all hopes and dreams and fantasies being grounded six feet under.

Why is it that while I’m trying to hide my pain by being incredibly obnoxious, that the simple, scolding word of “Stop” pisses me off? Makes me angry. Is it because that simple gesture broke my facade?

And I guess I was malicious when I told the busdriver to leave that girl behind, even though we knew where she was. But then again, that bastard said things in front of all those people in such away where I hated his very entity and wanted to tell him right where he could stick his opinions of me.

Should I be worried? Worried that “Tainted Love” makes me want to kill the entire class, just to show them my bleeding insides and what they made me do? I guess I should be worried I just said that. Holy shit I sound like a psycho path. I’m sorry. I really am. I really don’t want to kill anyone, I want them to be quiet and go away. Or maybe I want me to be quiet and go away.

I think tomorrow in school I’ll just be quiet. Bad children should be seen and not heard seen and not heard seen and not heard. Fuck, that word sounds so delicious. It just rolls off the tongue in such a pleasing way. Go on, say it. You know you want to. Or maybe you don’t, maybe I’m the only one who finds immense pleasure in being Mommy’s archangel.

I know how to make this stop.

Posted in Mental Disorders, Self-injury, Suicide
Tags: , , ,

Eraser.

•December 1, 2008 • Leave a Comment

I wish I could just erase what I did last night. Wait no, I wish I could just talk about it to someone. Goddamnit. Nevermind, because if I talk to someone it’s really just because I want pity. Don’t pity. I am undeserving. So I took some weird fucking quizzes online about depression. They turned out really bad… like I ended up with a 64 out of 70 or something like that. I mean, it isn’t really my fault. Alot of the questions were true. “Do you often feel worthless?” Yes. “Do you have sleep problems, such as waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to fall asleep?” Yes. “Do you feel tired throughout the day?” Yes. “Do you feel as though life isn’t worth living?” Yes. And the stupid thing is I’m sick of being happy. That’s right. I’m sick of being one way alone and another way to the world. I want to pick one.

I mean, fuck. I am so fake. Just so completely and utterly fake. I actually doubt if I actually feel anything, or if it’s all just some fucked up game I like to subconciously play with myself. “Let’s make her angry. Let’s make her cut herself. Now let’s make her pretend she’s a-okay. Now let’s make her lie to people to their faces everyday and spout worthless stupid fucking mind garbage that nobody cares about.” I think I’ll just kill it.

I’m sick of school. I don’t want to go. And Jared keeps asking me if I’m okay. Well fuck no, I’m not okay. But will I ever tell him that? Probably not. I went kind of deep yesterday. It looks legit. Wow, I sound so fake. But it does. I like the way it looks. The other ones all look kind of weak. I think it’s because the razorblades dull so easily. Anyone know how to keep them sharp? Wow, did I really just ask that question. This is ridiculous. Maybe I’ll just pop a bottle of tylenol PM or some shit like that. Never ending sleep. I love sleep so much. I can’t sleep at night, but I come home and just pass out. I slept from 4 to 8:30 today. Would’ve slept longer except I washed my bed stuffs. I mean, you would think some one’s mother would worry if their daughter just slept all day, without dinner and such. Because that’s really what I do. Doesn’t she see those commercials about the whole depression thing? Maybe I need to tell her. Maybe I’ll right her a letter. With a razorblade. On my forearm. Maybe I’ll stay home from school tommorow. Maybe I’ll throw up on her to prove the point that I’m sick.

I think I need more sleep.

Posted in Anger, confusion, Feelings, Mental Disorders, Self-injury
Tags: , , , , , ,

Do We Come off an Assembly Line?

•November 30, 2008 • Leave a Comment

I mean jesus. I’ve read so many posts so far about how these teenagers are masking their feelings behind “Being average.” Meh, it’s in books, it’s in blogs, I see it every day. So now, I will state random things that make me feel like an individual, excluding the fact I hate myself with all of my emotional will power.

  • I cannot spend money wisely. When I recieve money, I spend it with in the week. And then I complain for not having any money.
  • In my spare time, I either throw a stress ball at my wall or take those small rubber bouncy balls and bounce them as high as I can. They usually get stuck on the roof and I have to climb up and get them.
  • My room is a disaster. I’ve given up trying to clean it, I usually end up losing something and tearing apart the whole thing anyway.
  • I have a fear of over flowing toilets. The last time the toilet spontaneously overflowed, I started screaming and had a panic attack.
  • I cannot sleep with my closet door open.
  • I hate spiders in my room, and do kill them but feel horrible afterward.
  • I often try to seem more interesting than I am. I’m not interesting, I am not complex. I am, however, incredibly manipulative. I always have some secret, far fetched scheme to either make myself angry or happy.
  • I am so fake. I’ve mastered the art of pretending I’m okay. Like honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen over my own fakeness since the 7th grade.
  • I have a chinchilla. His name is Xavier.
  • I had 4 hermit crabs. One died, I was very sad. His name was Timothy, and he was my favorite.
  • One time, we visited my grandmothers grave and I had written her a letter and put one of my favorite charms from a bracelet into the envelope. Then we got to the head stone and I took the charm out because I wanted it.
  • Speaking of graveyards, I cannot walk on plots in front of the headstones. If I do, I apologize out loud.

And sure, someone else can have a chinchilla name Xavier. But when I combine everything I make myself an individual. So cut the crap and make yourself real.

Posted in Uncategorized

Out of Routine

•November 30, 2008 • 2 Comments

I only feel sane when I’m writing here. I only have control when I am writing here. I did hit walls, but out of anger. And then I took the razor. I was careless. I am so fucking stupid. I can’t even hide these except under long sleeves, and my mom looks for those now. Actually, I think she really just expects me to cut myself.

I was terrified. I sat there, contemplating slitting my wrists for the thousandth time. I really wanted to talk to someone. Josh? No, I’ve called him for help too many times. Jared? No, he doesn’t even really like me. I told myself to just shut the fuck up. You don’t want help anyway. You like the pain, you provoked the argument which ended in blood. So shut up. And the other half told me to get in the shower. I don’t know. The shower is where I can think clearly. I kneeled on the shower floor with my forehead against the wall for the longest time, telling myself it was going to be okay. Bull shit. It is not going to be okay. I don’t know what to do with myself. I mean, fuck! I’m only sixteen. I’m supposed to be happy, not contemplating means of killing myself every other day.

I feel so alone right now. I know I am not the only one out there, but when there’s no one to hold me and tell me I’ll be okay… I’m losing the belief that there is someone out there who will make me better. That idea that cutters and self-injurers get the help they need through some clinic or therapy only exists in books. It doesn’t happen in real life, you don’t get sent away and come back all better, or on the way to becoming better. No body wants to listen to why you hurt yourself. Especially if you don’t even know.

I don’t even know why I continue to write here. No one is listening. Sure, you’re reading this right now, maybe saying “Poor thing” or something. Or maybe you’re saying “Shut the fuck up, no one cares.”

It really is just like real life. People see you, and they say “Poor thing” or “Oh well, I didn’t know her.” or “Good riddance, I was tired of the complaining.”. And that’s it. There is no more. And yeah, if I want change I have to change myself. Good luck with that, I think I’ll just kill myself.

Posted in Alone, Anger, confusion, Feelings, Self-injury
Tags: , , , , , ,

I Hurt Myself Today.

•November 30, 2008 • Leave a Comment

Cliche? Extremely. But it’s true, I did. And I think I’ll continue later.                                                     Hopefully, when the house is empty I can be free. I really don’t care about trying to stop anymore. I guess it’s due to anxiety from going back to school tommorow. I haven’t done any homework. I haven’t studied. 

So maybe I’ll just exert all of the self hatred I feel back on myself, and numb myself until I am just a faint beating pulse. And then, I can pretend to be content. Pretend that I’m not dead inside, that I have a future, that I’m real, that I care. I know how it will go too, I’ve done it so many times before.                                     It will start off in the shower, where the scalding water can mask the sounds of me hitting myself, mask the stars as I aim just abrove my eyebrow, where my hair covers.  Then, if the house is empty, I can use the corners of the wall, right where the metal plating is. And if it isn’t enough, I tumble down the stairs. The hopefully, I’ll crawl back up the stairs and take refuge in the corner. I can sit in the dark and see how long I can stay numb this way before I have to go for the razor blade. And then maybe, maybe I can sleep. And the morning sun won’t burn so bad, and I can sit as an empty shell on the bus.

Stop, fall apart, repeat.

Posted in Alone, confusion, cutting, Desperation, Feelings, Self-injury
Tags: , , , ,

Empty

•November 30, 2008 • Leave a Comment

It feels so weird, being completly void of emotion. I don’t know when this happened, I just came home and expected some sort of feeling, sadness, joy, hope, disappointment. But there is nothing. Wait, no. Actually there is something; dread. I’m really dreading school right now. And it’s stupid to think that it’s all for one person, but it kind of is. I mean, I don’t know. I like him, but I don’t like him because I know he would never like me like that. I’m not even sure he likes me as a friend. But, if I could die to make him better, I would. And it’s sick and twisted, because he would never do that for me. My sadness means nothing to him, but his happiness means everything to me. It’s even more sick and twisted because death isn’t that big of a sacrifice for me.

So he told me he might have cancer, in a comical way really, on AIM. “I found a LUMP. ON MY PENIS.” And I sat there, immature at the word penis, and then trying to breathe at what that might mean. Then of course, one thing led to another and I’m telling him I’m crying and he’s saying don’t cry or I’ll start again, and he’s asking why I’m crying and I almost half admit that I would do anything for him if he would show me affection. Instead I settle for “I don’t want you to be sad, I don’t want you to have cancer.” And of course, my selfishness prevails and we end up telling each other how we really hate our selves. I know I’m not alone, but I don’t want that for him. I don’t want this for anyone. And he’s asking me what I have done to hate myself, and I stupid, stupid, stupidly tell him about my whole 5 year SI. He didn’t need to know, I SHOULDN’T HAVE SAID ANYTHING. It seems like some stupid dream. I don’t know how to react now, I don’t know if he hates me or sees me differently.

And I’m pretty sure I planned it this way. I am a fucking stupid selfish whore, by thinking that his cancer will bring us closer together. And I realize, I don’t want him to be happy. It’s his attention I crave. So yeah, I don’t know what to do come monday. Do I kiss him on the cheek and tell him it’ll be okay? Or do I play zombie again, and just shut down like I should have done from the very beginning. He told me it was good to tell people I’m hurting. And I’m sure it is, for people who don’t live off of their own pain. And I am so confused right now, so I guess that’s why I feel so numb because I don’t know what to make of myself anymore. I just don’t know.

Posted in Anger, confusion, Feelings, Self-injury
Tags: , , , , , ,

I Feel Sick

•November 24, 2008 • Leave a Comment

And it’s not like -take two motrin and it will all go away- sick. I don’t know. I feel wrong. I need to stop researching blogs and videos about SI. I know what it does to me, but I still keep coming back for more. It’s like I’m intentionally feeding this thing so I have a reason to hurt myself. And the fucked up thing is that I get pissed off because I know my life isn’t that difficult, there are worse. I find myself provoking others to get them be cruel to me. I don’t know. I can’t even describe myself. I guess it’s back again, the whole wanting to kill myself because I don’t see a reason why this earth needs me. And I actually mentioned it the other day to a friend of mine. I don’t know why really, I know he doesn’t care about me. He’s more worried about himself because he’s lonely. And I’m like, fuck, Jared, you’re only 16 and you’re not unattractive, and at least you’ve had someone who cares about you. That got me all pissed off because here he is talking about how he wants some other girl and how nobody likes him and I’m trying not to scream “I’m not just another one of your guy friends, I’m a girl and I’m just as lonely as you are. “. But he’s not interested, nobody’s interested in me. And I try not to care, with the mentality that I probably won’t make it past graduation and will end up hurting them in the long run. But I know that the truth is, I’m not someone people like to be around. I think my inner conflicts just set off signals that send people turning away saying “I don’t want to get involved with that mess.”.

I’m not sure how much writing on here I want to do anymore. I’m kind of tired of talking about this thing, I mean I shouldn’t talk about it anyway… nobody cares and I hate sounding like I’m seeking attention. I really just don’t know anymore, my head is just packed with random feelings and I constantly have to apply pressure to my forehead because it feels like my head is going to explode.

Posted in Uncategorized

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