Saturday, December 18, 2010

Wow, can't believe he actually read my blog. Obviously never thought that would happen otherwise I wouldn't have posted half the shit I did haha.
On the other hand, I guess it's actually a good thing. Now he knows how I felt. It doesn't feel as awkward between us any more. I think we're actually proper friends now.
Ah well, we'll see.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

What the actual fuck?!
Just found out that my ex (well, I guess he's just one of them now) lost his virginity to one of my friends from primary school on the weekend. When I heard that, my stomach honestly just dropped and I felt like crying/vomiting/dying/yelling/punching something all at the same time. It made me realise I still have feelings for him. After, what, three months, I'm still not over him? This is pathetic. Okay, yeah, I'm jealous. But I thought he could do better than that. He said he wanted to wait until he was 'in love'
I guess I just wasn't good enough for him to fall in love with.
I want him back.
There, I admitted it. Too bad he'll never read this. Even if he did, would he care? Would he say anything? I doubt it. He has no feelings whatsoever for me anymore.
Why do I always have to fall for the ones who don't want me? The ones who've already wanted me. This isn't fair. I have feelings for three guys at the moment, and none of them want me back. I'm thinking there's something crucial wrong with me.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I've been feeling way too down lately, so in maths the other day I decided to make a list of things I like, things that make me smile, things that give me hope. They might seem little, but a whole list of little things makes up one big thing. I wrote it so when I feel like this I can look at it and remember why I've stayed here so long.

  • picnics
  • rain
  • swings
  • vintage dresses
  • old photos
  • op shopping
  • holding hands
  • guitar hero
  • little black dresses
  • concerts
  • kisschasy
  • mosh pits
  • bus trips
  • waterproof mascara
  • friends
  • orange juice
  • taking photos
  • exploring
  • green eyes
  • boy's chests
  • confessions
  • heartbeats
  • d&m's
  • freedom
  • films (watching + making)
  • thunderstorms
  • band t-shirts
  • piercings
  • polaroids
  • freckles
  • posters
  • twins
  • deep lyrics
  • stability
  • sensitive boys
  • duets
  • skateparks
  • creative tattoos
  • inbox sessions with matt <3
  • mighty boosh marathons
  • writing
  • summer heights high
  • the british lolly shop
  • dressing up
  • cold showers
  • hugs
  • comic books
  • anime
  • bicycles
  • platypuses
  • frankie magazine
  • nailpolish
  • reading
  • big headphones
  • my ipod touch
  • fresh sheets
  • red hair
  • high-waisted skirts
  • whispers
  • guitar
  • boys who can play guitar
  • subtitles
  • drumming
  • chest tattoos
  • streetlights
  • colourful shoes
  • necks
  • swans
  • drawing
  • computers
  • art gallerys
  • exhibitions
  • odd things
  • things that make no sense
  • eraserhead
  • chaos
I wish my friends cared about me as much as I care about them.
+ I feel like I need everyone more than they need me.
I don't know.
It's not like anyone actually gives a shit about me.

Friday, November 19, 2010

There was blood all over my sheets the other day.
Mum saw and she thought it was because I got my period, she thought it was an accident.
I didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.
The real reason?
I tried to cut myself open from the inside out.
Not with razors, I'm no stereotypical 'emo' kid.
I used a knife.
I'm still afraid that one day I'll go too far, cut too deep. What'll happen then? I don't think I particularly want to die, I'm not suicidal. I hold onto the hope that everything will get better someday, the suffering will end. Otherwise, what reason have I got to stay?
And why, you may ask?
I was thinking about everything. About repression, about his hands on me, about abuse.
It wasn't even really that though.
It was really the fact that I saw myself in the mirror for the first time since god knows when. Really saw myself. Saw how fat I've gotten, how truly ugly I am. I couldn't stand it. I can't pass for 45 kilos anymore. I really can't.

I hate that I forgot they were there, I was walking around without a shirt on like I do when I'm home alone, and my parents saw. My stepdad thinks I did it for attention. He doesn't understand. Nobody does, not unless they've done it. If I wanted attention, do you think it would be on my stomach, which I don't show anybody? Nobody sees my stomach.

They're not angry. They're not mad. They're 'disappointed'
Another parent trick, as Matt said. They know it makes me feel worse than I would if they said they were mad. I wish I could go back.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

And you know what, fuck him. Fuck him for leaving. Fuck him for fucking with my mind. Fuck him for not knowing what he wants. Fuck him for dragging me into it. Fuck him for being such a fantastic kisser. Fuck him for ruining my favourite band. Fuck him for barely saying a word to me before I left. Fuck him for not waving. Fuck him for getting my hopes up. Fuck him for making my hopes useless. Fuck him for taking off with my fucking happiness.
Fuck me. Fuck me for always getting into situations like these. Fuck me for caring. Fuck me for not knowing the words that would have made him stay. Fuck me for not knowing what I want. Fuck me for wavering. Fuck me for not kissing him back the right way. Fuck me for getting my hopes up. Fuck me for not having more realistic hopes. Fuck me for making him the reason for my happiness.
If I hadn’t stayed those two extra minutes in the bathroom, staring at the mirror, as if my face would suddenly tell me the answers my mind didn’t know. If I’d been able to push through the crowd of thoughts in my mind instead of being stuck inside its haphazard body-maze. If I’d seen him before I got to the door. If I’d said something when I saw him coming. If I’d managed any of these ifs – would I have been able to avoid the inevitable fuck up, the full force fuck off? My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let him get away.

Monday, November 15, 2010

I didn’t let him go. He went. It’s not my fault. He did it. He could undo it. This is feeling so fucking familiar. Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Or is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else. Didn’t you know it was as simple as the way you dragged me out the door? You didn’t have to make out with me to get me there. And now I know this. And now I can say this. And now you’re gone. It’s my fault, isn’t it? Fuck this. Fuck this wondering. Fuck this trying and trying. Fuck this idea that two people can become one ideal. Fuck this helplessness. Fuck this waiting for something to happen that probably won’t ever happen.
Fuck fuck fuckity fuck, I'm pretty sure I just single-handedly ruined one of the best friendships of my life, I shouldn't have told him that. I don't know why I even brang it up, it wasn't even necessary! I think curiosity got the better of me again, but like they say, curiosity killed the cat. Clearly this proves once and for all there is something wrong with me. I'm so stupid, why do I have to wreck everything that's important to me?

Saturday, November 13, 2010

My emotions are out of control. Every emotion I have is so much more intense than I think is normal. When I’m happy, I feel invincible like nothing can bring me down. When I love someone, it takes over my life and nothing else seems to have meaning. When I’m hurt or upset, it’s like I hit rock bottom everytime. I think I feel too much.

Friday, November 12, 2010

You told me you needed some "single time" but you're already with someone else? I guess you did want a relationship, just not with me.

You’re "in love" with her now but I wonder if you miss me, if I ever cross your mind. Do things still remind you of me? You’re everywhere I look. Do thoughts of me make you smile? I’m probably the last thing you’d ever think of.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

"Drain the pressure from the swelling, this sensation's overwhelming."
I hate the sentence “But I still want to be your friend.” To me, it's worse than saying “I want nothing to do with you.” So in the meantime I guess I’ll just be your friend and that way I can see you happy with other girls who aren’t me.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I know I'm going to sound like a total hypocrite, but if you call yourself depressed one more fucking time I am going to stab you.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

No matter how much I tell myself I hate you and that I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, I know I would drop everything and come over if you asked me to.
Self-loathing takes hold once again. It seems as though the only time I'm truly happy is when I'm talking to him, and that makes me feel weird because I've never even met him properly. And even then I feel like he's going to get sick of me eventually, because everyone does. But back to the subject.

I know the link to this is on my facebook, but I doubt anyone actually reads it except a select few, and they've told me they read it so I know who it is.

I think my depression's slowly getting worse. I don't know if it's because of my recent relationship failures or what, I don't think it is or should be, because I was only with Ben for a week so it's not like I was in love with him or anything. I just feel so down all the time, like no one would even notice if I just disappeared, faded into nothing. I feel like everyone's out to get me, they hate me, they don't want me around. I'm a failure, a fake, a worthless piece of nothing. All day I'm just waiting for the moment I can get home, close my door, chuck my bag on the floor and collapse onto my bed and start crying. I hate it, the pills are meant to stop me from feeling like this. I can't tell anyone because they say it's just normal teenage problems, but I seriously doubt that. If all teenagers felt like this, the suicide rates would be much higher.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

I want to be involved in things, I want people to invite me places, to hang out with them. Maybe I'm just a horrible person and a really shit friend, that's why I don't get invited anywhere.

Friday, November 5, 2010

I just want a guy, who really loves me for who I am, but not in that way, we're just like really good friends. And neither of us have an alternative motive, we're best friends, we say we're best friends and we mean it and it's true. And we hang out all the time and we just sleep over each other's house and just do fun shit, and then when we go to sleep he just hugs me the whole time. And none of it is sexual, it's just a best friends thing. He doesn't want to get into my pants, he's not like the other ones, who are only friends with me because they think they'll get something out of it and just fuck off when they realise they won't, because I'm not actually like that, it's all just rumours. And he understands that I have problems, and he has problems too but we just don't care because we have so much fun together. And when he sees something sad on my blog or facebook, he calls me up or walks to my house because he doesn't want me to hurt myself, and he knows that unless I'm with someone I will, because I can't control it when I'm alone.
Too bad I'll never get that, reading over it, it just sounds impossible, it'll never happen.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

I don't know why I even get involved with boys, it always ends badly.
I'm not even that upset about this last one, but last time I was at his place I left my wallet there, and he said he'd give it to my friend who lives near him to give to me (this is when we were still going out) because I live like half an hour away and my friend goes to my school.
And I've asked him twice to give it to her, and he just doesn't answer.
And it's not like he hasn't been on facebook, I've seen him comment on things, he just doesn't reply to me. It's not like I'm saying I want to get back together with him, or telling him how heartbroken I am.
I wish I had some older, big muscly older guy friends who could go to his house and beat him up and get my wallet back.
Or maybe just get my wallet back.
I just want my fucking wallet back!
Boys make me angry.
My now ex-boyfriend was playing with my ribs while I was lying next to him. That feeling of satisfaction knowing that they are noticeable was more gratifying than anything I’ve ever felt.
I know we just started talking properly recently, but for once everything seems right. He makes me laugh constantly, makes me smile. I just hope that he won’t be like the rest, who will talk to me for about a month…and then cut off all communication whatsoever. I’m just trying not to get my hopes up, again, so I won’t get hurt, again. I really hope you’re not like the rest. I need a good guy, a good friend in my life for once. And I hope he doesn’t listen to what the people who don’t like me say. Because NONE OF IT is true. I just want someone who’s a friend to me that I don’t feel is fake to me.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Every time I even start to have feelings for someone, they get a girlfriend. Or tell me who they like, and ask for advice on how to get her. Or tell me they're gay.
I think there's something wrong with me.
I’ve lied about some stupid things in my life. And now I’m starting to believe those things actually happened. I’m tired of lying about my life just so others will accept me. I’m tired of conforming. I’m tired of wasting my life trying to ‘fit in’ when I have people who love me for who I am already. Maybe I should be more with them than those who I’ve lied to. Because now, they see me for what I’ve lied to them about rather than the real me. I’m offically fed up with lying. I’m taking an oath here and now to not lie anymore about the kind of stuff I’ve lied about. No more fakeness.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Yeah, cool, no worries, just got dumped again.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Why do I get jealous so easily?
Just because he wrote 'Coot ;D' on another girl's photo, I have this sick feeling in my stomach, like I think he's going to dump me for her or something. I just want to talk to him, talk to Tai and Matt. I just want someone to make it better, I hate feeling like this :(
I wish I wasn't like this.

Friday, October 29, 2010

It's taken me this long to get over you.
But fuck, seeing you last night just made me so angry.
We're "friends", right?
I thought friends at least acknowledged each other in public.
Finally realised that you're not that great, and you walk like a fucking idiot wannabe gangster. YOU'RE WHITE. Douchebag.
And I hope you get a new girlfriend, and you and her do what we did, and the same thing happens, and she tells EVERYONE.
Because you deserve it.

This sounds harsh, but it's all true.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

I want candles, fairy lights, incense and moon light. I want hours and hours of music whilst we make out. I want passion and sweat and saliva. I want to feel your heart beating next to mine when our chests are pressed tightly together. I want to make you the happiest boy alive. I want to lock my door and forget about the outside world with you for just one night.
Every time somebody tells me I'm hot, it doesn't make me feel attractive. It just makes me feel like I will never live up to their expectations if I take my clothes off. It makes me sick.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

I can never believe that people really mean that I can “talk to them any time.” I’m always going to be interrupting something. I’m not worth anybody’s time.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Trust me, I know how it feels. I know exactly how it feels to cry in the shower so no one can hear you. I know what it’s like to wait for everyone to be asleep so you can just fall apart, for everything to hurt so bad you’re ready to let it all end. Trust me. I know exactly how it feels.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Starting from now, I'm not going to start any conversations with anyone on msn/facebook chat. Because I always feel like I'm annoying people if I talk to them. and I don't want that. So if anyone actually wants to talk to me, they can make the effort, start the conversation. I'm not doing it anymore.

Yeah and this makes no sense so I'm gonna go now, doubt anyone even reads this.
Getting fed up with being "one of the guys."
I really want you.
Let's start again and say, "Yeah, that's her. Ain't she grand?"


Saturday, October 16, 2010

I knew I cared, I just wasn't aware how much.
I feel like I just took a stab to the heart. Sick feeling in my stomach.
I hate this.

Well, whatever makes you happy.

Friday, October 15, 2010

I'm sick of being the nice girl. The one who's overlooked, the one who becomes your friend and nothing more. I spend hours trying to figure out what's wrong with me, because it must be that I'm doing something wrong. I understand I'm not perfect, but the boys I'm interested in aren't either. They're always interested in someone else, someone prettier, someone smarter, someone that's everything I'm not. I just want them to understand that maybe, what they're looking for is right under their nose. I've heard every single stupid piece of advice, and I don't want to hear it anymore.
I just want a boy to feel the same thing for me as I do for him.
Just for once.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

I want a group of friends like in John Green’s “Looking for Alaska.” I’m longing for a Colonel and an Alaska, and I’m sick of being alone. I’m like Pudge before he went to Culver Creek. I want friends like Sam and Patrick from “Perks of Being a Wallflower”- I want those friends that could change my life, give me hope, and make me feel like I’m alive. That can make me feel that I can actually be myself and not have to hide who I really am. I want those friends that I can jump in a car with and go cruising for hours (almost like when everyone piled into Alaska’s car, or when Charlie went out cruising with Sam and Patrick, standing up in the pickup truck’s bed to feel like he was flying), laughing and singing terribly to songs on the radio. Why can’t they all be real?

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

There are two different types of girls - those that look in the mirror and hate theirselves and cry and complain and eat ice cream and get over it. And those that look in the mirror and cut theirselves because we can’t deal with what we see. We’re just like you, we feel the same things you do, only we can’t just deal with it. It grinds away at us and makes us hate ourselves inside and out. We envy you.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

I hate that I’ll see something and want to tell you about it, only to realise that you don’t care anymore, I’ll see that you’re online, and its horrible knowing you’re right there, but I can’t say anything to you, yet just the fact your presence is there comforts me and somehow upsets me at the same time, and I’d give anything for you to talk to me first again, just to tell me you miss me and that you were wrong. I just want to knock on your picture on the computer screen and say hey, hey you! Remember me? I’m still here, I used to mean something to you, remember?

Thursday, October 7, 2010

I stare at the catastrophe of my young face, at my emptiness. Thousands of years appear to hang on me. I feel that I am waking, slowly and sluggishly, from a profound and disturbing sleep to find that the nightmare is real after all. This is it. My world has contracted to this, to planning my next stolen meal, to examining myself in the mirror. My life is a dirty beetle, repulsed into a ball. There will never be a time when I’m the right shape. I will never be lean enough. This is the future. This is all I am, another dirty creature. I can almost see the tapeworm wriggling under my skin.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Day 15: The person you miss the most.

Rachael, one of my best friends in the whole entire world.
I miss you every single day, I wish I lived closer to you!

Monday, October 4, 2010

Day 14: Someone you’ve drifted away from.

This one would have to be either Shay or Samara.

Shay, because we used to be really close and told each other everything, but these past few months he's gotten really mean and it seems like he doesn't even care anymore, doesn't want to be my friend. It kind of hurts. A lot.

Samara, because we were best friends in primary school, but I guess we've both changed and we're just not as close as we were. I wish we could go back to what we used to have, I miss that.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

It makes me laugh to hear people talking about how they have “insomnia”. YOU DON’T! You have a fucked up sleeping pattern, so stop talking about insomnia like it’s some kind of hip thing. Insomnia is not staying up on the computer all night and talking about your insomnia with whomever decides to be online at such a fucking stupid hour. Insomnia is not playing a game all night. Insomnia is lying down in your bed for ten hours without being able to close your eyes. Insomnia is the inability to sleep, not lacking the desire to sleep. Insomnia is torture. I want to sleep so badly, but I can’t because of all this shit. I have no desire for anything more in the world than just to lie down and sleep for weeks or months. To just disappear. The best part is that no one would notice if I did.

Day 13: Someone you wish could forgive you.

These are shit, I can't even think of letters to write anymore. So I'm just going to say the person's name if I can't think of anything, k?

Brandon, because I fucked everything up like I do everytime.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Day 12: The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain.

I don't even know...this is probably myself, as cliche as that sounds. I hurt myself all the time, and I don't hate anyone in the world more than I hate myself. I wish things were different, but they're not and I guess I just have to deal with that.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Sat here thinking of all the people who've walked into my life and walked straight back out. This year, there's been a lot. The worst thing is about 95% of those people promised they would always be there for me. This is one of the primary reasons why people are shit.

Can't there just be someone who is always there, no matter what I do or say or what happens? I just want to know that I can depend on someone.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

I told my best guy friend that I have an eating disorder when he asked me why I’m always sad. The problem is, I’m always sad because I feel like a fat disgusting pig all the time. I’m worried that he thinks I'm lying, and that he’s judging me. Wondering why, if I have an ED, I’m not skinny.
i’m already thin, i just want to be thinner, i want you to be able to see my ribs, i want it so when i get into my underwear infront of you, all you want to do is hold me, i want you to notice that im not eating, i want you to take ahold of me and beg me to eat, instead of just telling me i should eat more, but you dont know the half of it, you only know half of it, you said eating disorders disgusted you, so i went home and did my nightly routine of vomiting and exercising and all i could think about was you, and how much i want you to notice and to care and for me to be able to tell you that im not going to eat, and i want to see the pain in your eyes, but for you to stay and let me not eat and be happy.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Day 11: A deceased person you wish you could talk to.

I didn't realise how much I love you until you were gone. I know we didn't really get along, but your death pretty much ripped me to pieces. I wish I could talk to you, just to tell you I don't hate you, I never really did. I'm sorry.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Day 10: Someone you don't talk to as much as you'd like to.

This is no one. Because if I want to talk to people, I'll make the effort, and if they don't talk to me then I probably don't want to talk to them anymore.

Day 9: Someone you wish you could meet.

I wish I could meet Josh Thomas, so he would fall in love with me and we would live happily ever after.
Yeah, I know, never gonna happen :(

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Day 8: The last person you kissed

You fucked everything up. I wish we could go back to what we had before, but you don't want that. You don't want me anymore and I don't even have a clue as to why. You used me. You can say you didn't all you want, but you can't change what I know/think. You're so shit, I can't believe I ever trusted you.

I'm fine with what happened, I don't care, I'm over you. Sure, we can be friends.

Monday, September 13, 2010

My mother watched me take my medication and I took it. Because I am weak. I am afraid.

I realise how ugly I’ve become. How unloveable. How invisible. There is nothing to me. I am just an empty page and there are no words. No words. I wish I had some words I could keep in my pocket to remind me I’m real. I’m alive. There are blades in my room and I need to start using them again. More than a few cuts every once in a while. I need to punish myself for being so mediocre. Not worth it.
I really need to stop falling for every guy who compliments me...

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Sometimes I feel people romanticize mental illness. I don't talk about it much but my doctor was giving me (or at least trying to) the diagnosis of whatever the fuck it is I have… from what I could tell. That just scared the shit out of me. I know I get paranoid and get really sad for no reason and sometimes I think people are deliberately trying to hurt me but it's no big deal. I guess it makes me angry that sometimes people want depression or schizophrenia and think they fucking know what it's like to be there because they know somebody or saw somebody or watched it on television. Fuck. It makes me want to break things.
I tried a dress on today and I looked so fat. I almost cried. I wish I was thin again. Yeah, I had no breasts but I could fit into a size 0. So shallow but I’d start starving again just to be thin. Except that I get incredibly sick if I don’t eat and my stomach is already painful enough without further damage. Every morning is hell until I eat. The medication doesn’t even work anymore. It’s disgusting. It’s depressing. When I’m off it the weight starts slipping off and I don’t even eat a third of what I eat now. Sorry, random uneasiness with my own body. The funny thing is, when I used to be a size 0 I thought I was I was enormous. If I were still a size 0 I would think I was enormous.
I'm putting the 30 day challenge on hold.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

So I've been used and discarded once again. I should be used to it by now, I really should. But reality never hit so fucking hard, I can't believe he did everything he said he wouldn't.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Day 7: Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush

Ha. I'm not even going to go into this, there's nothing interesting.
It was all about keeping the mirror in balance, too close and my eyes were monstrous and my nose in the way, too far and there only seemed to be a clothed insect who buzzed uselessly. My hands used to be like claws. My teeth would gnaw on my fingers, leaving them damp and shiny. That summer of thirteen I was like a plant that had been left inside, skin like wax that had been scraped off that sticky paper on my birthday cakes. On nights when my lungs felt starved of air I walked the streets in my bare feet, ran from my mother when the street lamps shone down on my sharp profile. The balance of the mirror had not been in my favour. In the mirror my eyes looked bruised and my mouth pursed, waiting. Everything was about waiting. I waited for the right moment. I waited for the day the voice inside my mind whispered the right words. I’d obey without question the same way I obeyed when the priest said god was ashamed of me. There was no mirror that last night. The black was endless and the water was cool in my mouth. My hands were stilled as they forgot the connection between mind and body.
As I forgot myself.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Day 6: A stranger

Dear girl who works in the craft centre,
you're really pretty + I love your hair.
I wish I was friends with you :)

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Day 5: Your dreams

Dreams, you're fucked up! Get well soon.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Day 4: Your sibling (or closest relative)

You're beautiful. And I know that you look up to me, but please don't. I'm one of the worst role models you could have. Don't do what I did/am doing. It's really not worth it, and our parents don't need another fucked up child.
I love you.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Day 3: Your parents.

Sorry for being such a little dickhead. I know I've put you through so much these past few years, I really don't appreciate you enough. I wish I was a better daughter for you.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Day 2: Your crush.

Well I could write this one to my boyfriend, but I'm going to write it to my celebrity crush, Josh Thomas.

Josh, you're the most adorable guy I've ever seen in my whole entire life. I wish you were younger/straight/attracted to me. I would do terrible things to that skinny body of yours.
Sincerely, Emma.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Day 1: Your best friend.

There's a few of you, and you're all amazing. You're beautiful and I wish I spent more time with you, and I'm sorry for everything I've ever done wrong, every mean thing I've ever said to you. I don't mean it, you know that. I'm just a moody bitch and thank you for putting up with me all this time.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

I would not willingly peel back the scar tissue protecting the deepest chambers of my heart and reveal the bruised hollows pooled with the blood of old wounds - the terror comes just thinking about it - but now, facing darkness I am left with no choice. I love you, and because of that I am going to try and raise the dead.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I always wanted you. Even when I had you. I could drink from you forever and never be any less thirsty than I was that first day. The day I realised how parched I'd always been.

Friday, August 20, 2010

"Do you remember, at the start, how small everything was? Smaller than a point. Like everything was somewhere between a thought, almost, and a reality, almost. And then I looked at you and thought


And then everything that would ever happen, happened. "

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

These little teenage relationships really annoy me sometimes. Like, yeah, okay, I'm in one. But I'm not guilty of doing half the shit my friends do.
For instance, saying you're in love with someone after you've been going out with them for what, 2 or 3 days? That's not love honey, that's a crush. I've been with Sean for a few weeks now and we haven't said we love each other. You know why? Because I don't say it unless I mean it, and I told him he should do the same thing.

And you don't need to broadcast every little detail of your relationship on facebook. If you want to call each other cute little nicknames, do it on msn/text/facebook chat/over the phone/in real life. Don't subject everyone else to your puke-inducing cuteness. It's disgusting and we don't want to see it.

This could have been a lot more put together and actually made sense, but it's 7:30 in the morning and I don't have a clue what I'm saying so I'm going to go now.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Last year she was slowly drifting, falling. Now her descent has accelerated. She is a holocaust. She’s walking backwards, a relic of the skeletal future. She is Death animated in a parody of energy with her endless pacing and twitching and isometric exercises. She looks like she ought to be in a cage. She looks like she ought to be chained up somewhere. Her skin is dry parchment on her face, like cobwebs, like old ladies’ breath. You can count her teeth with her mouth shut; they jut out like the windows of a lighthouse. Exophthalmic eyes, bright glassy marble eyes. She falls away from her face, from a head that looks too big for that spindly, corrugated neck. She looks like something off the news, a television tourist from those far-off places where disasters happen. She could be cuddled by a soapie star to some moving music. That’s what she needs. A soundtrack. Without that, she’s only bones. Explicit ribs form the barrel of her insect-like thorax. It could be an exoskeleton. She could be a praying mantis. The vertebrae ascend from her sacrum to her nape like a row of buttons. She’s hairy, too. She is a little hairy animal with soft, black down on her chest and back. The graceful curves of the pelvic girdle, now fleshless, look like components of heavy machinery. The patella slides around in its slot, so obvious. The ulna and radius compete for your attention every time she moves her fingers. The ropey brachial arteries on her upper arms do their business before your very eyes. The clavicles could be handles, the way they stick out there, and each scapula is as sharp as a stick. And when her eyes close, the round holes of the lacrimal bones still stare at you. She is nothing but apparent. She has nothing to hide. The wind won’t knock her down, it blows straight through her. A girl laughs, with real envy in her voice. “You are so lucky, you don’t have to worry about your ass hanging out of your jeans.
“Yes”, she smiles, skin pulling back across her teeth, ghastly. Her friends can’t afford to lose any more people. They want to cry, don’t leave me, but they can’t even speak.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

My mother used to tell me not to worry about the monsters under my bed, because imaginary things can’t hurt you. But they can. They can kill you.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

I pick distractedly at a small scab on my ear. I have a series of little sores around my hairline, which I pick at constantly, like a hobby. Malnutrition does that to you. He grabs my shoulder, cut glass under his wiry fingers, and hisses, “Don’t faint. I won’t pick you up.”

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

How many identical broken columns do you see? How many twin angels? How many draped urns? This is it. This is all there is to it, this death business. Mass-produced gravestones. Production-line death. Supermarket eternity. Buried in an alabaster ashtray. Look at all the bromides they chisel onto the stones: with Jesus, which is far better, too dearly loved to be forgotten, the gates of memory never close. Bullshit. You can hear the gates of memory banging shut all over this place. Your ancestors and mine are nowhere and unknown. Their graves, if they have them, are unvisited. They are done with. And so am I. You’ve passed on your DNA, to me, incidentally, so I shall spend it wisely. Your wretched spawn have stolen it all, and now you’ll shuffle off. And we’ll put you under one of these chainstore stones, and we’ll chisel some insincere bullshit into it, and once a year we’ll plonk some plastic flowers into these pen holders at your feet. It’s not dying that should worry you. It’s all the crap that comes after.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

So now I've found someone who actually likes me for who I am and doesn't fuck me around like you do.
Have fun leading your pathetic little life, I really couldn't care less anymore.
This is goodbye, forever.

Monday, August 9, 2010

I’m getting bored with all the usual questions: Don’t you get hungry? I wish I had your will power. You’re going to make yourself sick. Are you naturally thin? What’s your secret. That’s my favourite: What’s your secret? I answer, evangelical, I drink twelve glasses of water a day, I exercise every morning, I don’t eat lunch, I’m allergic to chocolate, I’m too busy to worry about it and blah blah blah, but I know what my secret is and I’m not going to share it: I don’t eat, I don’t eat, I don’t eat, you fucking idiots, I don’t eat.

Don’t you get hungry? Is the next best question. Oh, no, I smile condescendingly, not me. But inside my shell I scream, I am so hungry I can’t tell you about it, I am so hungry that there is nothing in the world that would satisfy me now, I am so hungry I can’t sleep, I can’t dream, I’m hungrier than you could ever understand. I’m starving and you don’t even know what that means.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Day 30: Who are you?
I'm Emma.
I'm 15.
I'm both happy and sad, and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Day 29: In this past month, what have you learned?
I've learnt that everything happens for a reason.
I've learnt that people change so that you can learn to let go.
I've learnt that things go wrong so you can appreciate them when they're right.
I've learnt that we believe lies so we eventually know not to trust anyone but ourselves.
I've learnt that good things fall apart so better things can come together.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Day 28: A picture of you last year and now, how have you changed since then?
Picture's aren't working so I'll just say how I've changed;
My hair's changed, I've gained a bit of weight and I'm so much happier now.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Day 27: Why are you doing this 30 day challenge?
Because it gives me a reason to blog every day and I can't be slack about it ^.^

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Day 26: What you think about your friends
I think my friends are absolutely amazing, and I wouldn't be who I am today without them.
Although they probably don't think the same about me.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Day 25: What I would find in your bag.
Well last night there was:
  • Makeup bag
  • Toothbrush
  • Toothpaste
  • iPod touch
  • Wallet
  • HvH shirt
  • Jessie's Confession shirt
  • Jaydeyn's bag
  • Benn's camera/phone
  • The book I'm reading at the moment
I think that's it.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Day 24: A letter to your parents.
Dear Mum/Scotty/Dad.
I love you a lot.
Sorry for being such an ungrateful brat all the time.
Dad, I miss you.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Day 23: Something you crave for a lot.
I I want to be loved. I want someone to hold me, to whisper in my ear that they love me, to do all the stupid shit couples do.
Day 22: What makes you different from everyone else.
Nothing. I'm exactly the same as everyone else in this world.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Day 21: A picture of something that makes you happy.
Josh Thomas. I swear, if this boy wasn't gay, he would be mine ♥
Everything about him makes me smile.
His looks, his smile, his cute little accent.
I could go on all day.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Day 20: Someone you see yourself marrying/being with in the future.
In the very near future, I could definitely see myself being with this one particular boy :)
But his name shall remain a secret.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Day 19: Nicknames you have; why do you have them.
Emmie-It sounds cute.
The Joker/Clown-Because I have assholes for friends.
Noodle/Emmanemmanoodle/Noodlehead-I really don't know how this one started.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Day 18: Plans/dreams/goals you have.
All I want out of life is to be happy. That's it.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Day 17: Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why.
Absolutely everyone in the whole entire world. Because I want to experience everything that I possibly can.

Day 16: A picture of yourself.
I'm so ugly.
Day 15: Put your iPod on shuffle: First 10 songs that play.
1) Timberwolves at New Jersey-Taking Back Sunday
2) Thunder-Boys Like Girls
3) The Sound Of Settling-Death Cab For Cutie
4) My Heart-Paramore
5) Sold My Soul-The Used
6) Wake Up-Eskimo Joe
7) Fuzzy Blue Lights-Owl City
8) We're So Starving-Panic! At The Disco
9) Freak-Silverchair
10) Broken Bones-Birds Of Tokyo

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Day 14: A picture of you and your family.

At the Oasis, we had the shittiest room. But it had a great pool, so who cares.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Day 13: A letter to someone who has hurt you recently.

Dear Shay,
It really hurts when you say those things. I know I laugh and play along with it, but if you knew how much it affected me, you wouldn't say it anymore.
Or would you?
I'm not too sure.
But what if those people in my head are sometimes you, mirrored?

What if I can't survive without your voice, even if all that escapes from your mouth are taunts & jeers?

If you hadn't forgotten that art was pain, I wouldn't have had to convince you that I needed this & I needed you.

You can hide yourself in your cubicle, behind your desk. Just know that for every hour you spend there, I spend three walled inside of my head.
Day 12: How you found out about blogspot and why you made one.
One of my internet friends sent me a link to her blogspot, read it, fell in love with it.
I made one because I'm so sick of tumblr.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Day 11: Another picture of you and your friends
The pictures that have all my friends in them are too large to upload, so it's just me and one other person, haha.

I love my Yari <33

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Day 10: Songs you listen to when you are happy, sad, bored, hyped, mad.
Happy: NeverShoutNever!, Lenka, Angus & Julia Stone.
Sad: I don't listen to music when I'm sad. Makes everything seem so much worse.
Bored: Cute indie pop.
Hyped: I will listen to anything when I'm hyper.
Mad: Angry boy rock.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Day 9: Something you're proud of in the last few days.

I'm proud that I sat through Eclipse and only yelled out "faggot!" twice.
Day 8: Short term goals for this month and why.
1) Have a great birthday. Because I deserve it.
2) Hook up with someone else. Because I'm sick of having to say his name whenever someone asks who the last person I kissed/hooked up with is.
3) Get super drunk. Because I haven't yet.
Day 7: A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you

These are the kind of pictures that kept me going with my eating disorder. I wish they didn't. It ruined my life.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Day 6: Favourite superhero and why.
Are Transformers superheroes? If so, that's my choice. Why? Because they're frickin awesome.
If not, I choose Batman! Because I always thought he was the bad guy : Only recently learned that he was actually a superhero, haha.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Day 5: A picture of somewhere you've been to.

The big rocks at Chillagoe! They're awe-inspiring.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Day 4: A habit you wish you didn't have.

Well that's easy! I wish I didn't pick/bite my nails.
I wish I didn't pick my scabs, it's gross and makes me look gross.
And I wish I didn't hurt myself when things go wrong.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Day 3: A picture of you and your friends.

This picture's from the other day, I got to hang out with one of my friends who I haven't seen for ages <3
I love her so much.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Day 2: The meaning behind your blog name.

Well, painfully average. I think that pretty much explains itself. I'm so average, it's painful, etc.
And notes from the teenage underground. I just like the sound of it.

I'm so boring!
Day 1: 15 interesting facts about yourself.

1. I would do anything to be beautiful.
2. If I'm awake, I'm moving in some way or form.
3. I get crushes on random people.
4. I don't think I've ever been in love. And I'm okay with that.
5. I hate myself.
6. I think I'm addicted to the internet.
7. I don't like talking on the phone.
8. If I'm around people I don't want to listen to music.
9. I walk around in my underwear when nobody's home.
10. I pull out my eyelashes a lot.
11. I always think about what could have been.
12. I wish I could write well.
13. I don't really know how I feel about things.
14. I miss my dad/stepsister/stepmum/stepbrother/half sister
15. I thought it was my fault my stepmum died.
I don't think I'll live till 30.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

'Sometimes I want to have myself all figured out, like a mathematical equation. But I'd probably hate being able to reduce myself to that. Just as much as I'd hate being graded for it. Let's see: Emma + Louise + Welsh=? Well, it's not winning that counts; it's how you don't play their game, right? I think, at this point, I'd give myself a C+. And if anyone asked me, right this second, whether I'd go to the right or to the left, I'd say - to the right. And straight on till morning.'

Monday, June 28, 2010

I got all hyped up for nothing.
Such a fucking shame, really.

If you really knew me.

1. I desperately want to be accepted
2. I am afraid of not winning this battle
3. Just now I am figuring out who I am
4. I have a hard time with the concept of forgiving
5. I smile all the time because I don't know what else to do
6. My eating disorder is not the problem; it's the symptom of my real problems
7. Sometimes I just want you to listen, not talk, not interrupt, not offer advice or suggestions. Sometimes all I want is you to sit there and listen and to feel like I have been heard
8. Sometimes the weight of my sadness is bone-crushing, like the pressure of water down deep
9. I hurt myself because it's the only feeling that I can stand to feel
10. I am terrified of not being good enough
11. At the start of the next day, before I even brush my teeth, I ask God to help me stop myself from hurting either myself or anyone around me
12. I'm deathly afraid of growing up and dealing with all the things a grown-up must think about. 13. There are so many things I wish I could say
14. Words and actions hurt me even though they weren't meant to
15. I cry when you hug me because of the emptiness and pain I know I'll feel when you finally do let me go
16. I am so incredibly mean to myself. I wouldn't talk to any other person on earth the way I talk to myself
17. What I want right now more than anything is love from myself. If I had more self love, the criticisms, the negativity, the thoughts, the low self-esteem, the self-doubts would all cease
18. I sometimes need your help, but I'm not sure how to tell you this
19. I really do care about you, more than you could even imagine
20. I cry when no one is around
21. I hold back from full recovery because I hang on to anorexia as an excuse to not chase after my real goals
22. I don't like the eating disorder, I just am having a hard time disliking it
23. I felt too ashamed, too dirty, too embarrassed and too scared to tell you that I couldn't cope without hurting myself
24. I have a very difficult time seeing myself as a girl/woman/anything feminine
25. I want to make a difference in the world
26. I am unable to see my potential right now but it helps me to hear you when you tell me it's there
27. I'm afraid to know myself and understand my feelings and wishes
28. As I'm smiling and laughing, I have voices screaming and degrading me in my head
29. My family is more dysfunctional than I like to admit
30. When I laughingly say I don't want to grow up, I'm not joking. I really am terrified
31. I believe that everyone's flaws should be accepted and forgiven except for mine
32. I'm always in a state of obsession. My mind is always going a mile a minute and my ED is ALWAYS berating me for something. I never have a moment of pure peace or silence in my head
33. I'd love to escape to somewhere by the beach, eat, drink, dance, without a care in the world
34. I lied my way through treatment and I'm now paying the consequences
35. I'm scared to leave the student world and enter the real world alone
36. I miss my parents like mad
37. I feel there's an empty hole in me
38. I feel guilty about all the pain I feel
39. I hate, absolutely hate, feeling vulnerable and I will do almost anything to avoid it
40. I feel nothing most of the time and I wait to see your reactions before I know how to respond/reply/react myself
41. I am really sensitive although I appear unfeeling
42. I'll lie to everybody to keep them from being hurt or from hurting them
43. I feel like a complete failure
44. What I want most is to just hear that I am ok just the way I am even if my natural state isn't common, normal or cool
45. What you said/did hurts
46. Sometimes I feel like I don't belong anywhere and I feel like an alien and that I don't belong in this time because my outlook feels so foreign
47. I don't like myself right now and I need support, but then when I get that support, I'm scared to let go of it again, scared that I'll lose it
48. I still sleep with a stuffed animal
49. No one could berate me more than I do myself
50. I hate being needy and yet I long to be taken care of
51. Without this mask I don't really know who I am
52. I'm not trusting of anyone
53. I simultaneously crave both fitting in and standing out. I feel like a failure when I'm different, and I feel like a failure when I blend
54. The ED was the only constant in my life, the only thing which felt unchanging regardless of what external events happened. The ED was the only guarantee, the only certainty, the only thing loyal to me throughout everything that came my way
55. I wish that I didn't hate myself but at the same time, I don't know how it would feel to like myself
56. I am so afraid of being in a relationship, and I fear I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life 57. I wear my weight like an armour
58. The bigger my smile, the larger my pain
59. I use my body to convey what my words cannot
60. I always feel like a burden but usually I hide that
61. I don't want you to give up on me
62. I have big dreams and wish that I believed enough to make them become a reality
63. I don't even know myself
64. I want to love my father, but I cannot figure out how
65. For years, I longed for someone to know my secret, in the hope they'd stop the pain and stop me from hurting because I didn't care enough about myself to stop myself
66. When I do something stupid, and remember it later, the "me" in the memory always looks fat and ugly
67. I have no confidence in myself or my abilities
68. I struggle to believe in myself at times and fear being hurt by criticism but I want to be courageous and stop shrinking back from those things I am gifted at
69. I will not show that I am mad at you. In fact, I probably won't even feel mad at you, unless someone else reassures me that it IS something to be mad about
70. I want to find something that will make my parents proud of me
71. I don't think I really give a shit about how I look. I only talk about it so much as a way of verbalizing all the fears inside me that I don't know how to identify.
72. I love you even when you don't think I do
73. I pray that I will still be able to have children someday
74. I'm so, so sorry for all the times I lied to you
75. I am scared shitless because I don't know what to do with my life and I cannot cope without direction
76. I only pretend to be immature: I'm scared to show you just how serious and deep I can be.
77. I need help believing in myself
78. I don't know who I am or what I'm all about
79. I don't feel that I deserve your unconditional love
80. Even when it doesn't look like it, I am trying, and I'm doing my best in the moment
81. I won't ever measure up to "you"
82. I harbour an immense amount of guilt over my actions and this prevents me from telling you, as I don't want you to shoulder my pain and my burden, or know me for what I am.
83. I am really afraid that I could really exceed beyond my wildest dreams. But I have never let myself try, because what if I succeed then fail miserably
84. I would give anything to get out of my head, out of my own body.
85. I'm scared that this will kill me
"You've got him on the brain"

Yeah, maybe I do. But it's not like I want to.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Today was great. I forgot about everything, actually felt happy and free and everything I've been searching for all this time.
Too bad it was only for today. I need to recapture this feeling.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Inky blue, she gives in to you, she takes you home and away from home and in the dark tunnel there she waits, lonely hot, like fire, like waste, like the sticky smell of rubbish in the heat and there’s no end to her waiting, her patience, her simple, easy smile, and she takes your hand and leads you away from me and I can’t stop her, not this death, not this woman waiting in the darkness like a dancer with veils, revealing nothing, she takes you slowly and then faster, and the ache of death is nothing compared to the smell of rubbish in the heat.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

They all say I'm stable. The doctors, psychologists, counsellors, teachers.

I failed eating, failed drinking, failed not cutting myself into shreds. Failed friendship. Failed sisterhood and daughterhood consequently. Failed mirrors and scales and phone calls.

Good thing I'm stable.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

You've reduced me down to one word, a simple equation. I hate it. I shouldn't be able to be defined this easily.
"He wrote to Connie with the same plaintive melancholy note as ever, sometimes witty, and touched with a queer, sexless affection. A kind of hopeless affection he seemed to feel for her, and the essential remoteness remained the same. He was hopeless at the very core of him, and he wanted to be hopeless. He rather hated hope. 'Une immense espérance a traversé la terre', he read somewhere, and his comment was:'--and it's darned-well drowned everything worth having.' "

Lady Chatterley’s Lover- D.H. Lawrence.

I read this somewhere today, and it reminds me of a friend who I haven't actually met. These internet friendships are so confusing.

Monday, June 21, 2010

I can't write for shit anymore.
Then again, maybe I never could.

I'm sick, and for once I actually wanted the day off school. I don't want to see anyone, not feeling the way I feel now. This hopelessness is getting really fucking old. Maybe I need a new school, new boyfriend, new everything. Maybe that would fix it. I'm tired of feeling so low within myself, maybe I should just be myself for once?
Problem is, I don't really know who I am.
alpha particles
nitrogen gas
nuclear fusion
fission reactions
radioactive nuclei

None of this makes any sense to me. Thank God I'm switching out of chemistry next semester.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

It starts eyes closed
to fingers crossed
to I swear
I say
from hands between legs
to whatever it takes
to hotel rooms
and emergency exit doors.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

Monday, June 14, 2010

It was late by then. Everything was dark, and the house was full of people. For a moment I pictured more and more people pouring into the room, looming and fading in a crazy crush of bodies. It would be so easy to be trampled to death in a dark, crowded room. I imagined lying on the floor, blood pouring out of me, my limbs at strange angles, my lungs struggling to get air in after someone accidentally stamped on me. I mean, that's what I wanted, isn't it?

I took a deep breath and made my mind change the subject.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Open the fridge and put
My heart on a plate.
I'm just as you left
me, and I taste even better
Pale fury, why did you leave me?
You're prickly
in the morning. So
This isn't a cooking show.
This isn't chemistry or geography.
It's physics. Pure physics,
I'm falling fast and faster still.
So fall with me. Fall down with me.
And stay.

Friday, June 11, 2010

I woke up in the middle of the night and I could hear him. I could HEAR him. It was as if he was sitting on my bed whispering in my ear. And he said, "Why did this happen? It's not fair." And he said it over and over until I put my hands over my ears and couldn't hear him anymore. Oh God, I feel like I'm falling from a great height and no one can catch me.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

I don't care.
I care too much.
I hate him.
I want him.
I'm too fat.
I'm too skinny.
I'm a slut.
I'm a virgin.
I'm a horrible person.
I'm a good friend.
I'm smartest in the class.
I'm an imbecile.
I'm a liar.
I'm honest.
I'm a cheat.
I'm an angel.
I'm a fake.

I'm all of these things and none of them.
But one thing I know is, I'm fucking real.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Even though I know how wrong it is, I wish I'd gone along with what you wanted.
At least then I'd have some sort of claim on you, however wrong it is. It's still something, and something is better than nothing.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Pouring acetone down my throat, maybe this will stop the pain.
Maybe if I slit my wrists, I won't have to see you every single day.
Maybe if I swallow those pills, a few too many, I won't ache inside everytime I hear your name.
Maybe if I pull the trigger, just maybe, you'll want me again.

The way I want you.
That's all I ask for.

I'm such a fucking stereotypical angsty teenager.
I hate it.

Monday, June 7, 2010

I did it again.
Fuck, I'm so weak. They all think I'm so strong but that's only because I don't let them see how I really feel.
I hope they don't see it, because then it'll be like last time and I really don't want that.
I suppose it's all my fault.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

What's the difference between hate and love? It seems you can't make up your mind as to how you feel about me. To be honest, I'd rather if you dropped out of my life, off the face of the Earth. Your selfishness and over-inflated ego are making my life hell, and I get the feeling that you really couldn't care less.

My body is now a cage. I wish I could shed my skin. Not think anymore. Maybe then I would forget about you. You've already forgotten about me, moved on. I only see fit that I should be able to do the same. But I guess it just doesn't work that way.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Because I’m angry. I’m angry at the world, I’m angry at myself, and I’m angry at you. Because I try really fucking hard to trust you and I can’t, because as much as I know about you, you don’t tell me things. Because I hate who I am half the time and although I’m good at keeping face and hiding it, I’m so fucking mad at this world I can’t handle it sometimes. Because you fucked it up twice and every time you come crawling back I feed into it, even though nothing changes. Because I can’t let go and the thought of doing so scares the living hell out of me. Because I don’t fucking feel safe or right unless I’m connecting to something technological. Because I’m a hypocrite, because I’m exactly what I hate and what I tell my male friends not to put up with. But you fucking made me this way. With your lies and your scheming and god knows what else - it’s your fault that I’m this fucking crazy. Because sometimes I remind myself of my mother and as much as I love her I don’t want to be like her. Because I’m trying so hard but I’m so torn it hurts. Because I cry nearly every day and it makes me feel like a piece of angsty over-dramatic shit. Because you do these things to me and then make me feel like I need to apologize. Because I’m stressed out and I don’t know what I think or how I feel. Because you’re never there when I need you most. Because you’re never here, period. Because I don’t feel like you even really fucking care that you’re not here. Because I shouldn’t be with you - you’re the last person I should be with. Because half the time I feel like I don’t deserve you even though realistically you probably don’t deserve me after all the loyalty and respect I’ve shown you and all the shit treatment you’ve shown me. Because not telling someone is the same as lying. Because I’m sick and tired of feeling second best in your book and because the words don’t mean anything anymore. Because I don’t believe you. Because when I hear compliments they mean more from other people than from you, because I feel like yours are forced. I just fucking hate this. I hate it so much. And I hate that I take it so much to heart and that I’m so angry all the time. I’m SO FUCKING ANGRY. And I’m not an angry person. And there’s nothing I can be angry at. I don’t know where to target how I feel or how to deal with it.
I just want something to fucking make it stop and nothing can. Especially you.

This, this, this. So much.
I think it's time for some copy and pasting, because I'm a lazy shit.
This is things that speak to me, made me sad or happy, or just expressed what I'm feeling in a way that I can't.

"I want to be the person that you look nice for. I want to be the person that makes you smile just by looking at you. I want to be the person you write songs and poems for. I want to be the person you wish for when you have a chance. I want to be the person invading your dreams. I want to be the person that you miss way too much. I want to be the person that you always want to talk to. I want to be the person that makes you laugh. I want the power to make your day, or break your heart. I want to be the person you regret meeting, and the person who changed everything. I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt. I want to be the person you’ve cried over, and hurt yourself for. I want to be the person you bought those shoes, or listened to that band because of. I want you to think about me, even when you don’t want to. I want you to chase me around. I want you to hate yourself for wanting me.

Basically, I want to be everything you are to me."
Rella from EB wrote this.

And this.
"I keep on telling myself I’m going to stop thinking about you so damn much. I’m not going to chase after you desperately and pathetically, or wait around for you anymore. I’m not going to stare at you across rooms filled with people, or get nervous when I’m near you. I’m not going to laugh at everything you say, or rely on you to make or break my day. I’m not going to be a fool anymore. I’m done letting you distract me from everything, and letting you disappoint me time after time. You are not my life. You are not my only hope. You are just one boy. But tell me one thing, why am I the one having to sacrifice everything just to feel normal again? Why can’t you stop being so damn cute? Why do you keep on talking to me like you care? Why do you flirt so frequently? Why do you lead me on and then push me away? It’s because of you I ever thought this would work out. You started it all the day you asked me my name. So why should I give up everything? You’re equally at fault here, and I’m not letting go of this until you do.

And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to get over you. Maybe I like it when you smile at me, or talk to me. Maybe I like having some delusions. There’s nothing wrong with a little false hope to get a girl by. We’re all doing the best we can, and you make me feel happy. Sometimes, that’s enough, especially when you have little else."

There's something else I want to post, but that can wait until tomorrow because it's really long and confusing and I can't be fucked typing it all up right now.

Friday, June 4, 2010

I've been trying to turn all of this despair and hatred inside me into wild abandon. I thought that if I could, I could defuse their effects. Give it all a context to make it seem worthwhile. I don't know. I've been fucking around and giving myself to any old body for god knows how long and I wanted just once for it to happen in the right place and at the right time and with the right boy and it would all be cool and it would all be beautiful and it would be stronger than the effect of any drug I could take, and it would be my salvation. A way out. So I hooked up with him. It felt good, and it felt interesting, but in the end it didn't mean shit. It meant nothing.

So yeah. Big deal. People are what you want them to be, or maybe not. I guess you shut out a lot of the things you don't want to see. I wanted someone to cling to, someone to save me, so I found that in him. The real him and the boy who existed in my head were two entirely different people. I don't know how much was invented and how much was real. Maybe it doesn't even matter.

I wanted to stop being me and start being someone else's toy, but I didn't think I'd have it in me. But once someone has taken a photo of me, I'm still here. They photos will still be on the net or whatever, a record of me. A record of a time when I was young and pretty and people wanted me.

The real me doesn't even matter. The real me will be taken out of the equation. And it will probably be a lot better that way. That's really all that matter's, isn't it? Something will always exist that was once mine. Keeping a record of myself. That way at least there'll be something. One day soon I'll be old. I'll probably be dead or something. I don't know.

My whole identity is tied up in this.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

This one particular song I used to listen to all the time is on the stereo. The final track from this particular album, which is kind of fitting. The singer is being taken over. She's practically ready to kill herself. All fucked up over a boy and only because he looks so good. It kills me that the lyrics of some sticky pop song can so totally reflect my exact thoughts and feelings. I mean it. It's really fucking annoying.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

So many people are asking me, "why'd you do it??" & "why with him of all people?!"
This is said with disapproving eyes and shaking heads.
You really want to know why?

Because I want to give myself to as many people as possible before I'm old and ugly and nobody wants me anymore. You know, seriously, after a certain point when we're not as young as this any more, our lives will pretty much be over. There'll be nothing left. A new group of kids will come up to replace us and that will be that. Is there going to be anything left of us? No. Not even a memory. So why the fuck shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I have fun while I still can? Because there are guys out there who want me. That's power.
It's probably wrong to get so wrapped up in a person's looks, but what else is there, really? I've been thinking about what he said. About being young and good looking. Making the most of it. It doesn't last forever. It sort of made sense. He's young and pretty, I'm young and pretty (sort of), and maybe nothing really matters beyond that. I don't know. I wish I wasn't so shallow, so obsessed with looking good.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Every time he's with a girl, I'm sure he feels it slipping. When there's a younger girl frantically sucking his dick, he must look down and almost pity her - I mean because of how desperate the girl must seem. I mean. Desperate for something. An idea. Something from the past that she's trying to recapture, or at least remember. Whatever. Whenever he's with a girl I'm sure he must look at her at think, one day I'll be like that. Maybe the fear is what motivates him. Maybe under the swagger and the perfect hair and the cool shirts and the come-hither glances, there's someone who's terrified because he knows one day it's all going to end. I guess he must feel this, because I feel exactly the same way sometimes.
What this means.

It's not even the act of going down on a guy, not as such. If you break it down, analyse the act in itself, the physicality of it, it's not particularly significant. On its own, his cock in my mouth doesn't really feel like anything much, it's just a piece of meat, warm, and it tastes of sweat, salt and something else I can't quite describe, and that's it, period. In a purely physical sense it means nothing. It could be any boy's. What it means, really, is that it's his, that I can do this to him, make him feel good, that I can make him say my name in the dark. That's half of it.

The other half, I know, is when I'm sucking him off, I belong to him. I'm just here because he wants someone to make him cum. I could be nothing at all. I'm only here to suck his cock; he can do whatever he wants with me and I'll let him. That's the other half. It's this kind of submission that's so intense it's like a drug, and while I'm doing this, I feel like nothing at all, I disappear, I'm totally erased. Gone. I like that.

Monday, May 31, 2010

He takes my hand or I take his hand or we both take each other's hand, I'm not sure entirely, but after a few seconds of fluid motion we're both standing up. I sort of lean, fall into him. His T-shirt feels soft. The flesh below it is warm. He's warm. I put my hand on the small of his back. I really really want to run away with him now, right away.

The trees and the lights have suddenly taken on a whole new level of beauty, intrigue. I feel like I could get lost in them just by staring at them. Lush. Glowing. A thousand fireflies. Being a little kid. On my father's shoulders. There are so many lights it's all I can do not to trance out on them completely.

Things are beginning to blur. He's saying something: 'We're leaving now.' I look down at the floor, at everyone, and suddenly I wonder whether he's fucked her. He has fucked everyone.
His cheek brushes mine. We are kissing. Just like that; a fluid motion. Hard to explain. The way it just happens. We close our eyes. His mouth is warm. Slippery. It tastes of lollipops and something else I can't identify. His tongue forces its way into my mouth. I don't resist. Mine is on his teeth. Smooth. His hand. On my side. It's warm. Mine on the back of his neck. The skin there is smooth. Warm. His hair. He forces me deeper into the kiss. His mouth. Electricity. These noises he makes. Noises I'm making. Pushing forward and back against one another. Suck.

He breaks off the kiss. I'm kind of embarrassed. And I want him. Totally and completely, and I'm going to die if I don't get to kiss him again, dance with him, sleep with him, absorb his body into mine.

Moments like these I forget about everything else. Moments like these, nothing matters. With him, with whoever. I can forget who I am. Forget anything else exists. No future. No past. Just this.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

For a second, as I'm staring, hypnotised, at the lights, I'm a little kid again, and the events of the intervening years have never happened. There is nothing of my parents' coldness, or the gap that has slowly opened between us. Nothing of the secrets. Nothing of the drinks or the pills, nothing of the boys or the 'promise to call you' and 'promise not to cum in your mouth', the staying out at night or the crawling home in the morning. And as those things which have been buried, half forgotten, begin to come back to me, they bring a sadness with them. The kind of sadness that seems so clear, the truth of it can make you double over, suck all the air right out of you. The lights make me remember a time when I was still sheltered from the world. When I could sit on my father's shoulders and I know that while I was there, nothing at all could hurt me.

The image - the trees and the fairy lights and my breath in the cold air - begins to fade. I try to grab hold of it again, but it's like trying to grab hold of a dream once you've started to wake up. I realise that, more than anything, I want some part of that innocence back. I want to be overwhelmed as much as I was as a child. I want to be able to be overwhelmed.
It makes me uncomfortable when people say they love me, so why do I crave it so much?

Saturday, May 29, 2010

As we enter the room, noise swallows everything. The music hits me, assaults my body, and it's a pounding force. Narcotic. Suffocating. Beautiful. It's hard to explain, but it's like being inside some great, pulsating womb. I close my eyes for a second and let my body dissolve into it, and it's like being a little kid again. I spent so much of my childhood sitting in front of my Nintendo, and what I seem to remember most about old video games is the music, synthesised, repetitive; I could sit for hours on end and just listen to it build then fade away, sequences of tiny artificial notes endlessly repeating themselves. The thing of it was that although the ambient soundscapes that accompanied the big-eyed anime boys as they went to rescue their princesses, or find their magic crystals, or avenge their dead brothers or save faraway worlds from forces too evil to imagine, were meant to be heard and then forgotten, they somehow transcended that, and anyone who ever played those games as a kid now has some small part of that embedded in their consciousness. Electronic music was the sound of my childhood, and as I stood there in the here and now and closed my eyes and let the ethereal synthesised keyboard lines swirl around me and the beats pummel and assault my body, it's like being there again, like childhood, somewhere I can be safe and warm, and I'm not even kidding about any of this. And I stand there and sway for the longest time, because there's this one particular song playing, with a high, swirling keyboard line, and it doesn't seem as though it can go any higher, and it swells and then fades away again then comes back and it swells and fades and swells and fades and I'm hypnotised by it. I stand there and sway, lost in the purity and the beauty of it, and for a second it's like I'm not even there anymore. It's like I've disappeared completely into the music.
You've got my heart in your hands. What you do with it is your choice, but I don't think you even realise. I've given you my heart, my everything to you - and you still don't notice. If you do, I guess you just don't care. Well guess what - it's not doing that much for me anyway. So go ahead. Throw my heart onto the ground, underneath your shoe. Put all of the anger and sadness I've projected onto you for all this time and crush my heart. Don't stop until it's in tiny little pieces, embedded in the cement. I don't want it, you don't either. Let's give it back to the Earth, where it came from. Maybe it'll be more appreciated in Hell, that's where I belong.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Here's the sick, twisted thing: part of me thinks I deserve this. That maybe if I wasn't such an asshole, it might have turned into something real. If I wasn't such a lame excuse for a person, something right might happen to me. It's not fair, because I didn't ask for Dad to leave, and I didn't ask to be depressed, and I didn't ask for us to have no money, and I didn't ask to want to fuck boys, and I didn't ask to be so stupid, and I didn't ask to have no real friends, and I didn't ask to have half the shit that comes out of my mouth come out of my mouth. All I wanted was one fucking break, one idiotic good thing, and that was clearly too much to ask for, too much to want.
I don't understand why everyone puts up with me.
Am I that pathetic? Do they get a merit badge for picking up the pieces of a wrecked human being?

Thursday, May 27, 2010

The shards of broken glass cut into my hands and knees as I crawled towards you. This disease leaves me crawling, crawling to people and always wanting more. No matter what I get, it's never enough. Are you sick of me yet? If not, you should be. I sure fucking am.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Post-hookup awkwardness.
Gotta love it.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

I look around at other people and notice that they are solid in a way that I am not. They think and talk and laugh in distinct ways. Compared to them I feel like a cardboard cut-out, a piece of gauze in the shape of a human, blowing in the wind, changing colour all the time depending on the strength of the light. My personality is cobbled together from all kinds of bits and pieces stolen from those around me. I try on the pieces like articles of clothing. When I get tired of one I try another, sometimes almost in the same moment.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Were my hands cold as they wrapped around your neck?
Good. I hope you fucking freeze.
"I know my head isn't screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closet is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them."

I don't want to feel like this anymore. I'm sick of it.


I hid in the bathroom until I knew all the buses had left. The salt in my tears felt good when it stung my lips, like I deserved the pain. I washed my face in the sink until there was nothing left of it, no eyes, no nose, no mouth. A slick nothing.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Every single song I listen to, every show I see, every book I read.
Somehow, all of it relates back to you.
I don't want to remember you.

Stop burning bridges and drive off of them instead, so I can forget about you.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Generally being depressed and hating myself.

This is my life.
What it has been since year 8 and it will be this way until I die.

This sick feeling in my stomach has become the norm.
Nobody needs to know.
This is not a problem.
It's just my life.
You're back, and I'm the happiest I've been in weeks.
Thank you.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Oh all the wants and all the needs.
I don't want to need at all.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

I stayed there on my own for a while, in that alleyway in the rain, getting wet. He'd smoked his cigarette till it had burnt right down to his fingertips then he let the soggy butt fall, plop, onto the wet pavement, where it landed right next to his foot. I was rocking slightly, getting hammered by the rain.
I leant back against the wall and let the rain hit my face and run down in random pathways, into my mouth and out again. It stung my eyes; I closed them tight and then opened them again, letting it sting them some more.
When you hurt, really hurt, you feel it throughout your body. It starts in your middle and spreads out, down your thighs and into your arms. Oh it is so easy to say this now, but that was the start of the end, when he turned away from me. That was when I started losing control.
I'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song.

Friday, May 14, 2010

I feel so empty yet so heavy at the same time.
I knew I shouldn't have done anything.
I haven't slept in three days and I haven't eaten much in that time either.
I thought I couldn't feel any worse than I did, but surprise surprise, it's possible.
Why did I do it?
Why did he do it?
Why did he say those things?
Why am I such an idiot?

I hate myself.
So much.
I am breathing shit air into my lungs.
It is being absorbed into my bloodstream.
I am literally full of shit.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

This, this thing we did.
It's purely physical.
It's two people, aching for the feel of someone else's skin.
It's instinct.

This lust to my brain almost feels like a gun.

I want this. So bad.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

I wish I could just sleep all of this away. That would make me happy.
Happier than I am now, anyway.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Stop your insistent nagging. I'll let you know when I'm ready.
Until then, go away.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

What do I believe in?
Well, my pragmatism and romantic feelings about Jesus and Mary were almost equally balanced. A few years ago I would have said God without hesitation.
The year after that I decided it was determinism.
And this year I believe that the universe is arbitrary, that if God exists he does not hear our prayers, that cause and effect are inescapable and brutal, but meaningless.
After that?
I don't have a clue.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Blue is my favourite colour.
Because blue is the most human colour of them all.
Blue veins, blue lips.
The Earth is blue from outer space.
The ocean.
The sky.
It's all blue.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Well, it's happened again. Every time I make a blog I get sick and tired of it after about 6 months. It's time to start anew.

Nobody's going to read this anyway, or at least I hope not. This blog is for my benefit.