sorry for the long break again..... i've been kinda struggling or whatever. i'm just so goddamn angry and stressed all the time, and if i'm not stressed it's because i'm wasting time doing nothing, which makes me even more stressed once i realise how much time i wasted. i feel this rage inside me like a hurricane ripping up my guts, and i know it's irrational so i try keep it inside but it hurts so bad, and there's all this pressure and i feel like i'm gonna explode and scream at everyone who doesn't deserve it. i'm tired of responsabilities and relationships and waiting on replies to texts you sent three hours ago. i don't want to do this anymore. i don't want to spiral and spend 90% of my day in bed alone and the other 10% outside alone smoking.
okay nevermind i got the reply to the text i sent. so i feel a bit better i guess. everything else still makes me want to kill myself but... whatever. fucking hell, these mood swings are killing me. one second i want to kill everyone the next i'm totally happy and in love. what is wrong with me?
if you are reading this and you know me in real life, FUCK OFF!!! i'm serious, this is the one place i have and the feeling of having that violated is horrible. i just need this one escape, please.
almost had a complete mental breakdown because i've lost my headphones and i'd thought the ones for my laptop were broken, plus our wifi has been acting up and wasn't connected on my laptop. just the thought of not being able to listen to music right now was horrible :( but i got my laptop headphones working! and i put it to my phones 4g so i should be fine.
what i origionally was going to say in this entry was that i am so in love with him. i'm scared he somehow might read this, but i don't even care now. he knows. he has his new girlfriend, or 'thing' or whatever. but he said to me in the car last night, "you know that you will always have a piece of my heart." he said it right after a joke that ended in him reassuring me that we were just platonic, not romantic. it fucking killed me. part of me was so happy because, that means he really did love me, he did realise the thing i felt between us, it wasn't my imagination. it was just unspoken. but now he's gone and ruined that unspoken bond by fucking this other girl, and yeah i'll always have a piece of his heart or whatever, but of course that's what he would say. all i want is a true permenant love. and the funny thing is, i don't even know why i've fallen so hard for him. before, when we we're both single, i had sorta convinced myself that i didn't love him but i loved the attention of him loving me. but now it seems the opposite, huh? i love him but he doesn't love me. just tolerates and sometimes quietly encourages that love. what the fuck ever. i mean... there are so many other guys and girls out there. today we hung out with my best friends boyfriend, and i really got the vibe he was coming on to me. calling me pet names, getting really in close to me, letting me take a pull on the joint when he was still holding it in his hands. and it's horrible to say, but i wanted something to happen. it never could, cause of my friend. but i think he's messed around with other girls behind her back before, and if he tried it with me i don't know if i would have the strength to turn him down. today we also discussed my addictive personality. i guess i'm kinda proud of it, cause i have to be, don't i. i can't change it, so why hate it? it's just me. smoking cigs and weed every day. my friends telling me that we can never do coke or ket because god knows what would happen to me. and i'm so in denial of it, as if i don't want to dive neck deep after the first hit. all the shit times i've done drugs or drank or did some other impuslive shit, i still keep coming back because it's not in my personality to say no. i am a sagittarius i suppose. a 'yes' person. plus i got those genes from my alcoholic dad. i'm genetically predisposed. whatever, see ya.
i don't know if i've spoken about it on this site before, but for a long time i've suspected i have bpd. i thought this for a long time before my autism diagnosis, and even after the autism for a while i thought i was just misdaignosed. it's been a couple of years since my bpd obsession, but now again i think i have it. i've looked through the dsm-v and looked at each symptom in detail. it's fucked up, but i really think i have it. this time i actually want to talk to someone about it, get a proper diagnosis. it scares me a little, but i need to. i swear i really am fucked up. :(
i'm all fucked up inside again, for real this time. i'm used to going through my phases of depressed-not depressed-depressed on a daily or hourly basis. but i haven't been properly depressed for a long period of time in over a year, i think. but i'm feeling it now. my best friend, who i live with now, has a girlfriend. or... i suppose they're not official yet. but i looks to be heading that way. the issue with him is that he 100% used to like me, and i drank up all that attention every chance i could. but i was never certain about my own feelings towards him. did i like him? was he just a friend? blah blah blah. and the first week we had in this house was amazing, hanging out almost every day. but now? now, we start the night togethter, smoke a joint with our other flatmate. he asks me, HE does, HE brings it up, says "do you want to go on a walk/drive later?" and here's the thing, when we drive, it's my car, my petrol, my money. he never chips in. so he makes these plans with me for later in the night, and then, this is the second time in a row he's said "oh, actually, i might go stay at laura's tonight." FUCKING HELL!?!? he saw her all of yesterday, all of the day before, and the fucking day before that. he's spending the day with her, coming home, making plans with me and then cancelling them half an hour later so he can go spend even more time with her. he's spending 20 hours out of the fucking day with this cunt, every fucking day. and the worst part? the first time this happened, i really wanted to cut myself, but i left my blades at home. the next day, i went on a three day trip up north to see a friend, and when i came back down i popped home for a moment but forgot to grab them. and then the first fucking day i'm back, he pulls the same shit, and i can't fucking cut myself. it's been a long time since i've felt this kind of major long term depression, and i really feel like this is gonna last. it's reminding me that i need to kill myself. for so long now i've been sorta tentatively imagining the future, seeing myself as an old woman. i keep forgetting that will never, never happen. hell, i might be dead by the end of this year the fucking way things are going. i don't want to do this to my family. i know it's the worst thing i could possibly ever do to them, and i don't want to do it, i really don't, not to them. but i need to. i don't have a choice. there's nothing anyone can do to stop me, change my mind, cure me. because life will always go downhill for me. i will always end up here, rock bottom. i don't have a choie. i'm gonna be so pretty when i'm dead. then everyone will love me.
damn, it's literally been a month since i've posted here. i'm so sorry, life has been so busy lately. i moved out last week again, my first actual 'house' of my own. it's me and my two best friends, and i guess it's been alright. i wish i could understand my own emotions. the stress has gotten me down physically, and i can recognise it now, but if you'd asked me how i was feeling i would never say stressed because emotionally i didn't really feel stressed. i felt fine. shame because when i moved out this time last year i had no appetite for a week. that hasn't happened so much this time, i think probably because my flatmates are always making meals for the lot of us. if only i could control my own food intake, i would be fucking fine. but whatever... i have a full length mirror in my room now but no scales to weigh myself. my disordered thoughts are sorta hibernating right now. they're dormant. i can eat and not feel too guilty, and look in the mirror and hate myself without wanting to chuck my guts up. but i think they're going to come back again soon. plus, i'm smoking so much more since i moved in. cigarettes, but also weed. i barely smoked weed over lockdown and now we're smoking two joints every night. it's kinda a lot, but i can't say no to drugs if they're being offered to me. the cigarettes are just shit though. i really feel like my body is falling apart every time i smoke them, but i keep smoking and smoking. i've had to buy my third new pack this week. i always thought i would never be addicted but now i really think i might be. i'm still in control, whatever, but i just don't care about myself or my body enough to want to quit if you get what i mean. i know it's damaging me but that's okay.
i've been so busy this week, and today's the first day where i haven't had anything to do. see, uni doesn't start for another month, and i'm too fucking scared to go and get a job right now, and my flatmates are busy today and i don't have any plans with my friends, so... i'm stuck in my room alone, 2pm, making to-do lists and not doing fucking any of it. i haven't felt depressed since i moved in, but now it's hitting me. i have actually been thinking about my gran somewhat. every time i smoke weed i can feel myself sitting in her house. i don't know if i'll ever see that house again. it won't be the same without her there. she died the end of march and i think i'm only just realising it. there really is something wrong with the way i process my grief, if not just my emotions in general.
i'm supposed to be meeting all my high school friends tomorrow for the first time since lockdown started but the thing is, every time i talk to them i feel like killing myself lol. i'm so positive that they're all talking behind my back. i mean, i feel paranoid because i've always suspected them of talking behind my back but this time i feel like i have legit evidence. the first time was when we were facetiming and one of my firends who was on holiday at the time asked "how was ____'s party?" which i wasn't invited to and hadn't even heard of, and both my other friends said ooohh yeah it was great!! blah blah blah while i had to sit there with that forced smile on my face knowing that someone i would consider a friend invited all my best friends other than me to her shitty birthday party. and now we're supposed to meet up, and i asked where we were going for it and my other friends replied "___'s house??" as if we'd all discussed it and i should've fucking known. i cannot fucking wait for the end of this month when i'm moving out to live with my real friends who actually care about me and whom i have something in common with. shit, i mean, i stuck with these people for 6 years and fucking loved and cared about them when they went through all their shit. i have stood by while they ignored me, insulted me to my face, disrespected me, and on and on and on. i have tried so fucking hard with these people. but what could i do when i was the only one putting in that effort. i know i exhaust them, annoy them. i know they think i'm a freak and do nothing but tolerate me. god, it just feels so good to know that i have more than just them, that by the end of this month i'll be off on my own again with my two best friends in the world, with my own house, my own car, my own life. screammming right now i started writing this so fucking depressed and sick to my stomach but the more i think about it the better i feel. i have more than they will ever have. i'm skinnier, happier, smarter, more creative, more independent, more confident. i do more drugs, have more friends. i'm more attractive, more neurotic, more interesting. definetly more narcissistic and mentally ill, but i have fun! i enjoy life! sorry this developed into some kind of weird self-love-fest but i did edibles for the first time in a couple months yesterday so i'm feeling... happy. who knows.
you know what? this place is incredibly stifling. and see i'm the first to say it's the most beautiful country in the world. cause it is. the suburbs are shit but the suburbs are shit everywhere. i think our cities and our countryside is so so beautiful. but that's sort of the issue. it's all just one thing. you've got two cities; edinburgh for the rich people and glasgow for the normal people, and every other 'town' is just a main road and nothing else. and then there are fields. and fields are beutiful, true, but a field is a field. there's only so many fields and hills and valleys you can see before you get bored of fields and hills and valleys. i know i'm lucky to be born here and whatever, but now that i'm here there's nowhere to go. i can grow up in the suburbs and spend my weekends in the city and eventually move to a different part of town. i can go up north on holiday and spend a weekend in a cabin and go on nature walks and visit second-hand bookshops and it's amazing, but that's it. if i lived in america, sure part of me would turn out worse (no shade to americans), but at least i would have somewhere else to go. like, say i was born in alabama. i can go to florida, i can go to texas, i can go to california, i can go to oklahoma, i can go to new york, i can go anywhere. america's more like 50 countries than one. here we've got 4. it's nice and all that i can drive to france, or take a three hour plane to most anywhere else in europe. but i don't think i could make a life in europe, cause they're all different countries with different lanuages and cultures. in america you have free range of half a continent and it's all similar enough to make it home but different enough to make it fresh. i'm going to live and die in this city and its suburbs, i think. not because i want to, but because i've got no other way. to any american reading this: europe is kinda overrated. it's cool, but not as cool as you guys seem to think. to any europeans reading this: don't worry, you're cool.
deadass not fucking about when i say that emo/alt music saved my fucking LIFE. i see so much of myself in my brother when i was his age only i internalised that shit and got my emotions out by screaming along to fall out boy and mychem songs. only he doesn't have that shit. he needs to stop wishing he was a normie kid because he never fucking will be. if only the kid started listening to linkin park and mychem then he'd be alright i swear. but he's got no outlet, so he takes it out on us. and now he's probably too old to get into that shit. little fuck ruined himself before he could even get started at life. pro tip: if you're a freak, be proud of it. a freak who knows they're a freak and is proud of it is whatever. but a freak who wants to be cool and normal is a way too easy target for bullies and depression.
gotta say i'm so fucking glad i'm one of those 'walk away' people when my family gets into arguments. god i'm so fucking SICK of them i don't want to live in this house any more! it's a literal hellhole, when i die i know i'll just return here. every fuck in this house needs therapy, and i swear to god one day one of them is gonna top themselves after one of these arguments. but not me. fuck that shit, when i kill myself it's gonna be on my own terms. i used to be so fucking dead set on blaming everyone else in my life for my shit. my suicide not was just a list of every person i knew along with all the things they'd done to push me to suicide. but not now. now when i kill myself it's for me! cause i'm the only cunt i need in this whole world, and the only cunt that's gonna make a life decision for me that big is ME! me and me only.
HA! never mind, i've been vindicated. i'm the only motherfucking bitch who won't ever fucking hurt you. it's only me. but i'm not gonna go chasing after anyone anymore. you come to me. if you do, i can be everything for you. but you need to come to me.
at least when i was being sexually abused i knew i was special. i knew someone cared about me, even if it was only my body. but now? it's friends who hang out without me and lovers who don't love me and the only person in the world who cares about me, about ME lives hours away and i can't see him. and i can't fix my family. if it was impossible to help that would be fine because i wouldn't hate myself for not trying. but i try and i try and i can't help even though i know i could if i wasn't so fucking selfish. i wish i didn't want anything for myself, but i do. i want and i want and i want and i can never have. never. everything i do i fail at. there's no fucking point in any of this. i can't even cut myself, all my blades are dull. i can't do anything right. all i can do is smoke and drink and never get a full nights sleep. fuck this, i'm fucking tired. i'm tired of it all. if no one wants me, why can't i at least want no one? it's not the loneliness that hurts, or the abandonment, it's the trying. the trying to help, trying to reach out, trying to love, and failing every fucking time. please, please, please let me get what i want. for once. just once.
you think you're fine, that you're over them, that you were never even into them to begin with. who cares? but then you see them with someone else and you want to cry and scream and be pretty and nice and appeasing and tear your fucking hair out. they're just your friend. you were never even into them. you should be happy for them. this isn't jealousy, it's protectiveness. i don't care about their relationship, i'm happy for them both. fuck this. for real, why's this shit so complicated. do i love him? do i love her? do i love both of them? neither? did i love one then the other or the other and then one? FUCK. this is bullshit.
i'm such a paranoid little fuck. HA! i'm never gonna have a real relationship in my life. if i wasn't such a cheapskate i'd be an alcoholic, but i am so i can't be. boo hoo. no people, no drugs, no drink. i've got nothing but me and my gun. fuck this lyfe lol i wanna move on to the next. or stay right here forever. if i could stop time that would be sexy. i'd rob banks and steal vodka and cigarettes and books and walk across the world and grow old and die without having to deal with all the shitty fuck unpredictable-ness of human beings and the world. :D
no matter what i do.. no matter WHAT I FUCKING DO.. i will always end up this way. curled in a corner with tears dripping down my neck and snot flowing over my lips, and i'll scream it and scream it and scream it, all the words i want and need to say. everything i need them to know. but they never will. they never will because i will never be good enough to prove it. i will never be enough, never have enough, never give enough. not enough love, not enough trust, not enough truth, nothing. never enough. so many FUCKING oppertunities, but i can never fucking take them. and every one of us, every fucking person here is the same. we're all the same, every person is a melodrama, and every person understands. every person but me. i can never let myself understand that i could be enough. i could be if only i was brave enough to try. but instead i hurt everyone around me and hurt myself the most because i can never be forgiven for the pain i'm causing, but i can't fucking stop causing it. FUCK.
an extension of my last entry, i just think it's fucked up how every one of my fantasies surrounding him ends up not with us having sex or getting in a relationship or anything, but with me breaking down in front of him and telling him that we can't have sex, not unless i'm drunk, because i'm just that type of fucked up. i even dreamt it once. i hate how this world has broken me and fucked me up so bad that when i imagine my ideal relationship situation it's me being able to be open and honest with someone, and not having them hate me or be pissed that they can't fuck me because i have so mcuh fucking sex trauma. i'm sorry, i know this is really honest and maybe tmi but i'm just so fucking angry. i used to get sad but not any more. the world fucked me up, dealt me the shittiest fucking hand and i've been SO FUCKING PLACID ABOUT IT!! i never scream or argue or complain, i've just taken all this shit again and again and again. i've accepted my life because i never thought i had the option to do any different. I DON'T FUCKING WANT THIS. I DON'T WANT TO BE THIS WAY. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. i can't stand it. i can't stand myself. god, god fuck i can't believe the whole world watched me crash and burn and then praised themselves for how good i turned out after the crash. yet they never tried to stop it and save me. yeah, i survived, but at what cost. i'm fucking broken beyond repair. i have a right to be angry that you let me burn even if you pulled me out the wreckage in the end.
oh, life here is hell on earth. i've been biding my time, and you know i really started to think i belonged here, that i could stay here for the rest of my life. and some nights i've cried at the thought of leaving. but most days, and many nights too i remember that i need to escape. i don't belong here, never have and never will. i belong with the people that know me and love me. the 'me' that i am now, not the ones i was in the years before.
another thing, god, i don't know why but i find myself so completely and utterly lovestruck. it's kinda killing me, every night all i can think about is him. when we're together we're friends, just friends and the idea of being anything more is crazy at best and disgusting at worst. but now... maybe it's because i've been alone and wanting too long, and it's not so much about him as it is about the body, the person. the physical. it doesn't need to be anyone in specific, just someone. whatever, it's no big deal, it's just bothering me a little lately, especially since we'll be living together soon.
if anyone from my real life ever saw the shit i write here... i'd really have to either kill myself or run away and adopt a new identity.
it is entirely impossible for me to feel love. i haven't felt it before, and i do not feel it now. i can trick myself into believing it with alcohol and drugs and sleep-deprivation, the holy trinity. but, there's nothing in my system so i'm feeling what i feel for you. i think maybe i feel that in a much more depressing and apathetic way than intended, but whatever. everything we touch becomes our own. i'll keep runnig from it, and running from it, and running from it. any time a conversation takes a serious turn. god, i never really realised how difficult it is for me to take things serious. but when things become serious they become boring. i'm here to have fun, not to deal with uncomfortable conversations. everything is much happier when you push it down and don't acknowledge it. if there was no societal expectation, i would never feel a serious thing for anyone or anything. but i should be in a relationship, and i should devote my life to someone and marriage and children. i don't want that, but if i don't have it people will think i'm missing out. i'm not missing out, i'm not missing anything. i'd be glad to never go through anything like that. i need someone who doesn't give a fuck, just like me. as soon as something's real it becomes boring.
have been meaning to say this for DAYS but keep forgetting but low by marainas trench is SUCH a good song. i've known skin & bones for ages but never thought to listen to the album until a few days ago and holy shit. it's very rare for me nowadays to listen to a new song and feel that instant emotional connection, but it just speaks to me so much. i'm pretty sure it's about relapse, specifically heroin since i know the singer used to be addicted, but it's just so similar to the way i feel about my self harm. every single lyric means something to me, every one. i've really missed discovering good music, it feels like i haven't had something like this since i was 15.
there is no love, at least not in me. no love, no hate, just a black puddle of apathy, nothingness. i am doomed to this eternal purgatory of unfeeling, no acceptance in love and no salvation in hate. there is nothing for me, no feeling to cling to, to pull me through it. i envy those with the passion to live and the passion to die. i am simply nothing. if there is any feeling at all, it is the occasional wave of self-pity, completely static and unmotivating. i want my life to have cause. i want, yes, but it's more a dream or passing fantasy than a real desire. we find our own cause, in revenge or religion or spite, or love and happiness and passion. passion is the root of it all, passion of love and passion of hate, it does not matter which. passion to live and passion to die. passion to drink up all the pain in the world or passion to cause it. none of it matters. that word has followed me through my entire life: envy. always, always. i will never stop wanting. palms upturned, praying for a reason. it's not meaning i need, but drive. i won't get either. i'm damned to live and die in spiritual inertia. everything will simply 'happen' to me. there is nothing inside me.
so much has happened tonight and i don't know what to say and what not. we had the police over because someone called a welfare check on my brother; he was threatening suicide again. this is a regular occurance. he's a spoilt little brat. when i was suicidal i kept it to myself. i didn't stress my parents out, didn't hurt the ones i love. this kid does everything he can to antagonise his parents then complains when he doesn't get their love. but he doesn't let them love him! it would take me fucking years to explain it all, and nobody can be fucked reading my sob story. those three are all so involved with their own tragedies, i just wish i had the courage to martyr myself to pull them together again. picture it: after a night of screaming and crying about one another, of hating one another and themselves. one of them comes into my room to say goodnight (which i know they wont), and there i am, spread out crucifixion-style, bleeding out from two deep vertical gashes, one on each arm. they call the ambulance, sit and pray by my bedside while i'm hanging in the balance of life and death. it would be so fucking perfect. all that time spent arguing over one another, not one of them thought to spare a thought for their poor dead daughter until it was too late. but knowing them, they'd just take the chance to bully one another again. my brother would be upset that i'd stole his limelight, my mother angry that nobody heeded her warning about my mental health, my father valiant that he was the only one to try help me. and they'd argue, accuse one another of causing my death and not helping enough. i'd probably rip them apart. they're so fucked up that no matter what i do, they're going to self destruct. i mean, the cops come telling them they need to get a professional involved, and yet my dad still thinks he can fix everything himself if we all do it his way. my mother, tired of fighting and being treated like shit. if anyones the suicide risk in this house, it's her. my brother, god, what can i say about him. selfish, sad, pathetic, angry, vile. sorry for making you read about my fucking broken family lol. these things have been this way for so long, and are never going to get better. i cannot wait for the chance to move back out. if they're going to tear themselves apart, i want no part in it. they can do that themselves, they don't need me to stand by and watch. i certainly don't want them dragging me down with them. when i kill myself, i want everyone to know that they had no part in it. they didn't kill me, and they didn't save me either. they simultaneously are all of me and none of me. i can see myself in every one of them, but i won't succumb to it. i don't want to, i don't want to be one of them. i will always be thankful for my life as it has happened thus far, because it has made me who i am. but i am going to break out of this, i promise. god, they're all so blind to one another. am i cursed to be the only one in this family who can see each of them for what they are? how can i be the only one to understand each of their intentions? can't they see? can't they just open their eyes and look at one another? can't they see what a mess they are? a mess they can't pull themselves out of any longer. they need family therapy man for sure, for fucking sure.
the thing is, i'm so blase about it all, because it's all i've ever known. i mean, i was in the other room when the police were round, and thank god i was. i went in after they left ready to laugh and joke about it all, and saw each one of them in tears. if i'd been in there while the police were talking, i woulda laughed. seriously, i sat in the other room and sniggered at the snippets of conversation i overheard. i went upstairs and just about cried with laughter after it was done. i mean, i've been so surrounded by all this dysfunction that it's just about all i've ever known. ever since i was, what, 12? maybe even before that. and the way my brain has seen fit dealing with it, is to make it all hysterically superficial and funny. i genuinely cannot take topics of suicide and such seriously because, god, i've been suicidal as long as i can remember. and if all i did was cry about it, life would be no fun! i'm eternally glad that i'm the way i am. to other people it's majorly fucked up, but i'm not gonna live my life in misery. here for a good time not a long time lmaoo. cheerio!
i wish i could remember. not just that, but everything. as of late, it seems my mind has been emptying itself like a sand timer. even my dreams i find fade faster once i've woke, although they're no less vivid. i'm ashamed of myself, ashamed of this site, ashamed of my habits, ashamed of my being. there's this horrible dichotomy within me; of the thing i am and the thing the world has instilled in me. all the passions, wants, needs that society expects me to have. if i had been born entirely alone, allowed to be entirely myself with no outside influence, i would not face this internal conflict. and it is the conflict that harms me more than anything else. not the blade, or the words, or the money, or the circumstance. had i been myself, entirely myself, none of that would have bothered me. but i am not myself, never have been. i'm this disgusting amalgamation of all the things everyone wants me to be. but like a fresh coat of paint over mould, my true self keeps showing through, fighting to exist in a world that would do anything to silence it. and that is why i am so ashamed of myself. but this is just the way the gods made me, sad to say. this world is man-made, i'm not made for it. i'm made for the sky, and the sea, and anywhere but here. looking back was the worst thing i ever could have done. why has the world made me fear death, when death is not even the end? i'll know when my life is over, and i'm going to be brave enough to do what i must. i won't let these people stop me. i won't let my false empathy for them stop me. i'll move on, and none of these false fears will matter. and i won't remember it, but i'll still be me, more me than i am now. the cycle will repeat, because that's what cycles do, but i need to hold out for those bright moments of independence of the mind and soul. i wonder if reincarnation obeys the laws of time? (i don't think so.)
i've got to apologise for how emo i've been as of late. i can't help it, i just get in these moods sometimes. it's not a typical depression. i have been a little more depressed lately, but only occasionally. really the most pervasive feeling in my mind right now (i don't think pervasive is the right word) is just this absolute emotional unfeeling. numbness doesn't feel like the right word, it implies that there is feeling there, it's just been masked or turned off. but in this case, i just don't have the capacity for emotions and empathy. media can trigger an emotional response in me, as always. if i watch a sad movie, or read a sad book, sure. i'll feel sad, maybe even cry. i find that i am more easily irritated than usual. but other than my anger, i feel fucking nothing. i don't feel sad, don't feel happy. i can feel nothing, which is basically equivalent to happy. if i'm calm and not upset or angry, then i'm happy. but i'm so easily irritated. whenever i'm around other people, that calm fades quickly. they don't even have to do anything, just seeing another person pisses me off. god, i can get a text from someone and i won't even read it, i'll just instantly be pissed off. i wonder what this is. it's not me, not all the time. but it's certainly a part of me that seems to surface on a fairly regular occurance. and when it does show up, it lasts for a few weeks or months. and then it's gone, and i'm normal again. as normal as i can be. i'd like to have a name for what i go through.
this quarantine shit is kinda awesome because i'm going through all the same mental breakdowns as i was when i was 16, only this time i can do them with the benefit of hindsight, the right way. plus, my music taste is better now, if only slightly. more msi, death spells, linkin park, etc. essentially, heavier stuff. institutionalized by suicidal tendencies.
i need to let myself be sad. i need to let myself mourn. i need to stop smoking. i need to stop thinking about all the could haves and should haves. i need to do nothing but think of cans and shoulds. why have we been given permission to touch ourselves. why is it possible we can explore our whole bodies? the rabbit never knows what's on its back. it can feel it, but it can never touch it. i've never really known who i am. in 'the perks of being a wallflower' charlie says something along the lines of: "sometimes when i read a book i think i am the people in the book." i've always been someone else. an accumulation of characters, a hodge-podge collage of not-mes covering up my pages. i've never been able to read my own story. i don't have my own story. all my life i've been following the script, playing a character who isn't me. i don't know who i am. and i've tried to ask what other people think of me. i've done personality quizzes to see what they say about me, read through the 'personality disorder' section of the dsm-v hoping i can diagnose who i am. but me isn't something i can read in a manual. god, that sounds so fucking cringey. i hate that, like this is some shitty inspirational speech at the end of that sad movie where the terminally ill girl finally succumbs to her cancer, and there's the shitty voiceover from the male protagonist who took her death as some sign that he had to live. as if her death wasn't hers and hers alone. we're always seeing ourselves as the centre of our own stories. i'll be the first to admit i'm self-centered. god, i have a hard time thinking about anybody else if it's not in relation to me. i only think about others if i'm thinking about how they think of me. i'm selfish, i'm vain. i could spend hours a day staring in the mirror. not because i think i'm super hot, or because i think i'm super ugly. i'm just so fascinated by that image of me. is that how other people see me too? is this what they think of when they consider me? and am i just a plot point to them, a side character. do other people actually think of me? here i go again, thinking about other people, but really i'm just thinking about myself. myself, and all the other selfs that live in the minds of others. i think, in a way, i'm also an other to myself. the 'me' that i see when i look in the mirror is different from the me that looks at it. i am not my reflection. i am not my voice on a recording. i am not the body that casts my shadow. i call her me, and we're sewn together like a shadow to its body. i don't think other people can even seperate us. to them, we are the same entity. the idea that there is me and me makes no sense. a person, a body, is one. there is no more. but my body does not just contain a singular. and it is not 'i contain multitudes' either, if you know the post i'm referencing. no. it's like multiple personality disorder or something, only the personalities are not fully formed. there is the real me, that nobody knows (especially not myself). and there is the me i think i am, and the me everyone else thinks i am, and the me i want to think i am. but they are all more concept than concrete. the only real thing is the real me, but she is obscured by all those other blurry, gaseous concepts that rise to the forefront. does that make sense? i hope it does. i wonder if i'll read back on this in thirty years, if this blog still exists by then, and i'll finally know the real me. and i'll pity the time when i was young and dumb and too caught up in all my internal struggles to enjoy life. not that i can do much enjoying when i'm stuck inside all day. but maybe i won't be reading back on this in thirty years. maybe i'll have too much of a life to think about my past. or maybe i'll be dead. who knows.
↑ a beautiful set of numbers
i used to be afraid of showing my lack of empathy. i have cultivated this image of myself, a persona that is so powerful and intrinsic that i almost forget that it's not a natural part of me. i know how to pretend to care, and i do it well. i'm not perfect, i don't dole out hugs and words of encouragement. but i have that quiet, stoic understanding that makes people think i care. i listen, and i listen well. but i don't care. i don't mind upholding this image of myself if it makes other people accept me. if everyone thought i was a heartless bitch then nobody would associate with me. but i've made it through my life with relatively few enemies. but here... here nobody knows me. and so it doesn't matter what you think of me. i have no empathy. i can understand other peoples' emotions, but i will never feel what they feel. i can recognise that certain situations illicit certain emotions in normal people, and i know how to manipulate my own words and actions to make people feel certain ways (although i don't always have enough control over myself to actually act this way. i'm too impulsive and ruled by my own emotion). the world is not ending. people are dying just like they always do, maybe a little faster, a little younger, a little more often. but hell, the upper estimate for fatalities from this virus is nothing compared to the black death (200million). i'm sick of people acting like this is doomsday, and i'm sick of all this terror over death. death is the beautiful release, death is when mother nature cradles you in her palm and carries you up to whatever afterlife you believe in. death is nothing. we can't comprehend it because nobody will ever comprehend it. it's like entering a black hole. nobody will ever get close enough to a black hole to survive it, and if they did, they would never be able to relate that story to us. if there is something in death, some experience, then we can worry about it when it comes. but for now? who gives a fuck? really, who fucking cares. it doesn't fucking matter! it's all so boring, worrying about something we can't avoid, and can't even imagine. i don't care, and i'm glad i don't. people will look at me and think of me as a sociopath (i almost certainly don't have aspd, but whatever, people love using words they don't know the meaning of). but if i were, why would it matter. if anything, i'm gifted. blessed. i know my place well enough to not get in any trouble, but i will never know the pain of grief or loss. i can't feel it. i'm one of the lucky ones. i don't think i could handle that type of pain. i feel, but i don't feel for others. i feel for myself, and maybe it's selfish, but i'm just a more frank example of every other fucking person on the planet. mother teresa is dead, and none of you can claim to be her. we're all selfish. i'm just more honest about it.
more and more i find myself convinced that there is something wrong with me, some fatal black mark on my soul that is never going to heal, never going to fade away. some genetic abnormality that has cursed me to be always different. my grandmother is dead. i need to write it out, to really acknowledge it. i feel nothing. no, that's not right. i don't feel nothing. that makes it seem like i'm blocking it out, disassociating from my emotions to avoid the pain, numbing myself subconsciously. but i'm not. i feel fine. uncomfortable, because my dad just came in to tell me. he cried, i hugged him. i felt awkward. i didn't feel upset, for myself or for him. not for my grandfather either. and the thing is, i loved my gran. i did. i really did. i liked her, i cared about her. we weren't incredibly close, but we are a decently tight-knit family. we keep in contact regularly. but i just don't care. my parents were in my room talking about it for a few minutes, and all i could think was please go away. my mum cried more than my dad did, asked me if i was okay twice, hugged me. i said i'm fine a little quieter than normal, not because i wasn't really fine, but because it felt disrespectful to feel fine. so i had to do that half-lie. why can't i feel? will i be upset when my own parents die? or my brother? my best friends? i don't know. god, tomorrow will be horrible. i'll need to stay up here in my room, avoid everyone. it's difficult. if i stay up here, people might think i'm upset, and treat me the way they treat sad people, which i don't want. but if i go down, i'll be around sad people, and i'll have to pretend to be sad too. everything is oddly normal. i'm going to stay up, read, listen to netflix, smoke. go to bed at 2am, wake up at 11am. nothing will change. life, quarantined, will go on. and i won't feel any different. i should feel different. i remember last year on holiday when i was in the hospital with one of my friends. she started crying, and when i asked what was wrong she said last time i was in the hospital was when my gran died. it had been months ago, and while i understood her at the time, now i know i never would feel the same. it's the second time someone in my family has died, and i didn't care that time either. i barely cared when my rabbit died a few years ago. not because i didn't love him. i did. but i couldn't find it in me to be sad. maybe this is a good thing. maybe i'm lucky, to never feel the pain of grief. the rest of the world wont see it that way, though. to them, i'm cold, heartless. you hear the stories about mothers who didn't seem sad enough after their child goes missing. and of course, that means they're to blame. they're evil, they never loved their children. i wonder if people will look at me that way when my own family dies. when i don't cry, don't even change up my routine, not a single hitched breath, will they think i'm evil? do my parents think i'm evil? my friends? when my grandpa died, i didn't tell my friends, because i knew they would expect an emotional response that i couldn't give them.
FUCK fuck fuck fuck i'm so mad and upset and it's all my fault so i can't even blame anyone else. i cancelled a holiday i was supposed to be going on this summer because of the coronavirus stuff and also because the more i think about it the more it seems like a waste of money. so i cancelled, which meant that the four girls i was going with would have to pay slightly more each in order to cover me. basically it was £87 more per person. which... is not that fucking much. they could take that out of their spending money and just not have as many drinks each night or something, idk. but no, they've asked me to pay the full £300.i don't mind them asking me to pay like £150 or something like that, but they're giving all these fucking excuses about how they cant afford it and shit like.... FUCK YOU. I CAN'T EITHER! fucking cunts. and i was going to say no, i was going to say "i can't afford the £300 but i'll pay something" but i didn't. i said okay, i'll pay. and fuck, it's just £300 down the drain, plus my £60 deposit. all that money and nothing to show for it. the way they went about it was horrible too, you could tell none of them wanted to tell me that i still had to pay. fuck, i should've gone off. i should've told them they were arseholes expecting me to pay for their holiday. but i didn't, because in the back of my head i thought "they're my friends, i don't want to lose them." but fuck that, if they're the kind of friends that would never speak to me again over £80 then they weren't really lifelong frineds i suppose. i can do better than them. but no, i'm gonna pay it, and i'm never gonna get payed back, ever. fuck it, i don't care. it wouldn't matter so much if we weren't on lockdown and i could talk to my real frineds about it. but i'd feel an asshole texting them just to vent. nobody wants to hear about my problems. that's why i type them all out here, and pray someone reads them. the worse thing is, i don't have any blades here, and i can't go out to buy new ones. so self harm isn't even an option. lmaooooo great :/
they're fucking lucky to have me. a stronger person wouldn't let their friends walk all over them. they're so, so fucking lucky it's me.
i need to stop thinking about weed, it's making me depressed. i haven't been able to smoke since this lockdown business, and i won't be able to until at least early april, if not longer. i all depends on how long this lockdown lasts, and how long it takes for me and all my friends to be in the same city again, etc. i hate it! i think i'm starting to compensate with alcohol, which is way worse because a. drinking makes me feel like shit and b. i'm at home, so my parents will notice the depleting alcohol stash. oh well, they shouldn't care so much since they're fine with my mum being an alcoholic. my dad undoubtedly would though. he's an ex-alcoholic, and even though he doesn't seem to mind about my mum, every time i have a drink or smoke or anything else he loses his shit. quarantine is killing me.
forgot to update this! if you guys don't know, i live in the uk, and we're under lockdown right now for three weeks. it's not so bad, it gives me time to watch all the movies and read all the books i've been putting off. but my real dilemma is, should i cut my hair? i've been in dire need of a haircut for a month or two, but i can't be bothered going to the hairdressers and paying someone to do something i could do myself. but now i'm stuck inside and won't be seeing anyone, i don't know if i should cut it or let it grow. because i'm inside, i can leave it looking horrible and let it grow a bit more, or i can cut it and it wouldn't even be a big deal if it turned out shit because nobody is gonna see me. i think i might cut it, today or tomorrow maybe. i'll watch some 'cutting my own hair' youtube videos to inspire myself.
wherever i am, i am unsatisfied. at home, at uni, with friends. i can't help but feel like i'm destined to always be at odds with my surroundings. like i'm just not made to fit in anywhere. i'm cut from a different mold as everyone else. i just don't fit. and i can spend my time contorting myself into the strangest shapes, but all i end up doing is pulling muscles. will it really always be this way? i have moments, sometimes more than moments, where i think i'm better. everything gets a little lighter, i feel all the tension melt through the floor. i'm soft, i'm flexible, it's not so hard to make myself fit. but that never lasts. that's all i want. i want to find a me-shaped hole. somewhere i can be without having to twist and turn myself into someone that isn't me. sometimes i don't even know who i am when i'm alone anymore. i've cultivated my entire being around other people. i'm not me, i'm who you want me to be. i don't know who me is.
things are difficult right now. i came back home yesterday because my mum told me there were rumours we would be going on lockdown. she was wrong, but i still came back with all my bags. now i'm here, still here, and i really want to leave tonight. its barely been 24 hours and yet i am fucking sick of being here. i have no clue how i managed it for my whole life. i get that it's a stressful time with all this coronavirus stuff, especially since my dad has his own business. but everyone is just fighting over petty shit. the uk has closed all cafes, resteraunts and stuff like that, which means my dads shop is closed. it's our main source of income, so idk what we're gonna do. but i'm just not built for this stress. my back hurts and it's only been a day. my head hurts. i feel sick and angry and stressed constantly. last night, after my parents went to bed i snuck out and drove back to uni. i wasn't even planning on going back, i was just gonna drive about and smoke, but my friend asked if i was free and as soon as the offer was there, i jumped on it. i was gonna stay longer, but i'm definetly gonna try go home tonight if i can. it's weird at uni though. since classes are cancelled, and exams, there's no reason for any of us to be there. most of the international students have left, too. a lot of my friends have been forced to go home by their parents. i'm so glad mine aren't as overbearing. i know they really really want me here, but i don't think they'd try force it. and if they did, i don't care. i've got my car, and if they try stop me i've got the bus too. i'm defiently going home tonight, and i'm not coming back until there's an actual confirmed lockdown. i'm not lugging all my shit back home on a rumour again. i hope everyone else is doing okay right now. it's stressful on so many levels. i'm lucky we aren't actually on lockdown yet, because i don't know how i'll handle it.
i spent an hour throwing up, was too dizzy to stand and have only had half a tin of beans to eat today. i feel absolutely shit, but i still have to write this damn sociology essay i have due on the 18th. i've not even started writing it yet, i've just been doing readings. at least uni is over, they sent out an email this morning letting us know all face-to-face contact was cancelled. other than that, i really really hate my period. i always forget how bad it is until that time of the month comes when i start getting really really depressed and emotional for no reason, and then a week later i start bleeding and experince the worst pain of my life. i can't leave the house, i can't spend time with friends. i have to wait for the painkillers to kick in, or until i've finally managed to throw up. i think i should go on the pill or something like that soon, just to stop my period. i hate it so much.
i should be writing an essay right now, but i have a lot to say that isn't about sociology, so...
last night was fun. me and my friend went out and smoked weed in the car. as we did it started to snow. i mean, it was a proper storm. there was even thunder and lightning!! it was super cool. around 2:30am i went to go drive home, and i got to the main road before i realised we were not getting back. every turn i tried to make, every time i used the brakes, nothing worked. the car had absolutely no grip on the road. i was like damn, okay. so i went and drove back into the car park we were sitting in, and sat there until 5:30am, when the snow started to dissapate. falling asleep at 6am was a weird moment, it's been a while since i've done that. it was super fun anyway, although also kinda shit that we got stranded and i fucked my sleep schedule again.
anyway, what about this coronavirus stuff? i thought it was stupid to be scared, but i've heard from quite a few people who live in italy who are on lockdown right now. what they've told me has made me reconsider. everyone else is saying "it's just a flu! it's no big deal!" but they're telling me that's exactly what got them in this position, people saying it was fine when it wasn't. they're talking about shutting down uni for it, which i would honestly appreciate lmao. i also have a holiday this summer that i'm nervous about. i hope they cancel our flights and we get full refunds for everything. i think it's quite interesting, i've never lived through a pandemic like this before. at least not one that i remember.
i've also been really emotional recent, crying a lot. i haven't really cried over personal stuff in a while, but the past few days i'm just dwelling on everything that's wrong. i'm convinced i'm a bad person, that my friends and family deserve so much better, that everyone hates me. i'm trying to ignore that, convince myself that it's just hormones. i'm due my period soon.
oh, it's been a while since i updated, huh? i haven't woken up feeling this bad in months. i don't know what it is. i've spent the past week or two getting stoned every night, some nights up til 4am. then i've been waking up at 2pm, lazing about, and then smoking again starting at around 7pm. i'm spending more time awake high than i am sober. and i'm slowly becoming more and more nocturnal. well, today i was supposed to be in uni at 11am, so i set my alarm for 9. i went to sleep at 5am-ish, maybe a bit later. i woke up to the alarm, but felt terrible, and it kept going off and going off and it was getting closer and closer to 10:30, when i'd need to leave. so i messaged the guy i walk with and i told him i didn't think i could go, then immediately fell asleep and didn't properly wake up until 4pm. i had loads of dreams, although i can't rememeber them. i was sorta drifiting in and out of sleep, but i was never awake long enough to really acknowledge it. now i am, and i feel SHIT. i just hate everything about myself and i don't even know why, i can't pinpoint it. i just feel so disgusted with myself. and i don't know if it's because i feel fat, or because i've done nothing today that i said i would, or because i let down my friend. i genuinely haven't felt this mentally bad in months. i also have an essay due in 9 days that i haven't started. and i don't want to start it. FUCK FUCK FUCK i genuienly just want to die, i don't want to live if this is what life is. i sound so pathetic right now. whatever.
one thing i'm realising as i meet more and more different people is that i am actually a lot more confident than i think, and i need to surround myself with other confident people. i have a lot of insecurities and i am very self concious, but i work hard at producing a confident facade that has sorta just become me. i am that facade. and when i'm around unconfident people who require constant constant reassurance it just drains me. especially because i feel really uncomfortable expressing my love for people in the traditional ways, so people who are constantly asking if i love them and stuff like that just don't vibe with me, because even if i do i can't show it in a way that they pick up. i suppose it's all about different love languages, but even more complex than just 'words of affirmation' or 'gift-giving'. because i'm neurodivergent i am just so distinctly different from nt people, and even other nd people who don't have the same type of nurodivergence that i do. i can still get along with those types of people, but it puts a strain on me and i don't know how long i could uphold a long-standing relationship with them.
i really need to vent right now. i'm not as mad as i was earlier because now i've got food, but i'm still kinda dissapointed i guess. so tonight i had plans to go out with a group of friends i haven't seen in ages, plus some strangers. i met some cool people at pres, but then i noticed one of the friends i came with was like... super drunk. like, falling off chairs and spilling drinks, can't walk straight drunk. i thought he would have straightened himself out by the time we got to the bar, so i paid for the uber and when we got there, they wouldn't let him in. understandable, because he literally couldn't talk. this was pretty fucking annoying, because i was looking forward to the night, but whatever. so me and another friend decide the three of us will just go to another bar. and the whole walk there this guy is like "hey, lucy, i'm sorry for ruining your night." and he kept making me hug him and hold his hand and like, as a side note, i think this guy is interested in me, but i defiently don't feel the same. he's never mentioned it, so neither have i, but i think he might think that i could feel the same, and i don't know how to say i don't. so i was kinda uncomfortable with all these hugs and stuff, but the worst thing was the constant constant self pity, and asking us to affirm that he was a good person and hadn't ruined our night. i said to him, okay, you haven't ruined our night we've told you at least fifteen times, can you let it go? stop being so fucking self depricating. and he apologised for that, and then a minute later was complaining again. it was SO FUCKING IRRITATING. i wanted to just turn and say, "look, you didn't ruin our night by getting KB'd, but you are ruining it now by keeping going on about this." i didn't, because i knew it would upset him, but whatever. i kinda wish i had, it's not like he will remember it. so anyway, we get to another bar and the other girl orders drinks for all of us. but as soon as she arrives with the drinks he says he wants to go home. it's like 11pm by this point btw. so we chug our drinks bc we don't want to waste them, and then i have to call ANOTHER uber. we we're going to walk since it's just 20 minutes but he wasn't having it. i get that everyone's annoying when they're drunk, but i always am so fucking aware of myself even when i'm drunk. he hadn't even thrown up yet, he wasn't that bad. so now it's 11:45pm and i'm at home bored out my mind with nothing to do, still drunk, and everyone's out. i mean, this guy is annoying sober, but drunk him really has ruined my night. great.
sorry if this makes me come across as an asshole. i'm not trying to be. i was perfectly nice to him when i was with him, but now i'm back i just need to vent my frustrations a little bit. honestly i could make a list of all the hypocritical, asshole-ish things this guy has done. and this night certainly wouldn't be top of it.
god i don't understand how people can sleep in front of other people. especially when you know you might twitch or snore or breathe audibly. i couldn't have people hearing me, seeing me, experiencing me when i was most unaware. it makes me shudder to think of being that vulnurable
fuck me this is just not my day. i actually woke up early and was feeling pretty good despite not getting much sleep (like three-four hours? idk.) i did two washings and have just been doing some bits and bobs, cleaning up and stuff. i started feeling pretty sick, like i have a cold coming on that hasn't quite developed yet, so i took some paracetamol but still feel quite crap. then i got up to make lunch, and as i did i accidentally knocked my laptop off my bed. and i'm SO SO fucking pissed at myself i didn't even realise until i got back that my headphones which were plugged in to the laptop broke. like literally snapped in half at the base. i just started crying bc i was so upset and frustrated because i knocked it off myself, it was my own fault and it was just so careless and dumb. and then i went to eat the soup i made and i saw this thing in it that looked really meaty (i'm vegetarian) and so even though i was sure the soup was veggie i went and checked the can and sure enough it had mutton in it! fucking great. so i had to throw out the soup and make myself something else. and last night i made hot chocolate but i put the milk in the microwave for too long and it was burnt so i had to pour the whole thing out. i'm just so upset and frustrated with myself. i've made so many dumb fucking decisions lately that don't really matter but it's all piling up.
i'm actually having a lot of fun writing this essay for film. i never thought i'd say that, but i gave myself loads of time and i chose two good films to write about so i'm literally just chilling. it's gonna be hell to edit but my life has been so easy lately. i had the week off uni (and i'm off loads next week because of strikes) and so i've literally been waking up at 1pm, writing my essay, going out at like 9pm, smoking weed, staying out til 4am, getting home and going to bed, and then doing it all over again. plus i bought hair dye the other day, and its been agessss since i've dyed my hair it's literally the most horrible faded colour right now. it was such a funny scene, my and my friend blazed as fuck in the 24-hour tesco buying pink hair dye and like ten boxes of crackers to eat. i like to think we provide a bit of entertainment for the poor night shift workers every time we go in there.
lmaoo i was talking to my friend last night and he pointed out two animal crossing characters he thought were cute, and then i said "of course you think they're cute, you liked emily in stardew valley". and i don't even know how she's related to the animal crossing characters in any way but from her i was like 'omg he's really just into the manic pixie dream girls' so i asked what he thought of ramona flowers and he said she was cute, and then i thought this was a long shot but i asked about kate winslet in eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (because she and ramona are like. the epitome of manic pixie dream girls) and he said YEAH she's cute! i found it so hysterical, not that i don't think any of those characters are cute but his type is literally just manic pixie dream girl, and not to cycle back round to talking about me again but i have always wanted to be someones manic pixie dream girl lmfaoooo.
i never thought i would be one of those people that relies on other people for their self worth. not that there's anything wrong with being that type of person (well, there is, but not in the sense that it's like, morally wrong (can you tell i've done nothing but write a philosophy essay for the last three days?)) but i just never thought that was me. well, i guess i was wrong. i don't know how i never realised it before. but i was feeling super super shit today, and then i put a picture of my collarbones on my ed tumblr and i realised how much like... terrible misplaced joy i feel whenever i get guys messaging me trying to get me to send nudes everytime i post a bodycheck. like, i know they're horrible people and what they are doing is horrible, but knowing that people are sexually attracted to me (no matter how fetishistic that attraction is) is such a fucking confidence boost. and i realised when i got that rush just there, i really really rely on other people for my own happiness and self worth. i think it's just because i'm maybe not in the best place mentally right now. but when am i not?
i just want someone to love me! i don't want to miss out on that.
hey so... there's this guy i know really well now, i've mentioned him a couple times here (but never my name i don't think). anyway we're close, and i really like him. we have a few dumb arguments here and there, but they're literally so dumb and pointless and we always laugh about them like ten minutes later. so, anyway, we we're driving about last night (in my car, with my petrol, might i add) and of course when we're in my car it's my music that's on most often, and he just gets to queue things up occasionally. it's fine, i say we get a decent chunk of his music. but... well, his music is kinda not my thing. this isn't to offend anyone with this taste, but he listens to that kinda shoegaze dreampop soft indie stuff like alex g and the japanese house. some of it's okay, but mostly i really don't vibe with it. you can see my music taste on my music page, but basically it's a lot heavier i guess? more rock songs. and so that's usually what's coming on in the car. and you know, i never thought he had too much issue with my music taste. but we were in the car, and he had a song on, and i asked him to queue up everlong by the foo fighters bc i just love it soo much. and he took my phone and as far as i knew he did it. but we had to wait for his song to finish. and i wanted to listen to everlong specifically on the motorway, and we're only really on the motorway for like 10 maybe 15 minutes? so i asked him when his song was gonna end (i'm just realising how dumb this argument is, but still... it upset me. also not saying that i was perfect here and not also being kinda a bitch. because i was. i just think what he said was worse.) and the first time he didn't answer me. the next time i asked he just said it was long, and we were already four minutes in so i felt a bit not great about it. but i didn't say anything. it was dissapearing by the war on drugs if anyone wants to know. and he said, "can you just leave the song alone and let it play? because you're about to put everlong on which is really long. it's actually four minutes which is slightly longer than a normal song, but i swear every song he'd put on that night had been at least four minutes (i'm not exaggerating lmao). and so i started to speak, like you do when you're stoned, not really thinking about it, and i said "well everlong is a good song" and then i dug the hole even deeper by saying "i didn't mean that. not that everlong is a good song but i didn't mean to imply that this was a shit song. i take it back." and he went fucking OFF on me! i literally had just apologised for (indirectly) calling the song shit and then he fucking yelled at me like "just let the fucking song play i know it's your car and all but every fucking night i have to sit here and listen to your shit music, just give me the chance to listen to some good night music that doesn't have fucking screaming in it." like damn, okay. that wasn't a direct quote but he said something very similar, only i think he went on a bit longer. so great. i shut up the rest of the song, and then the next song, and the next. and you know what? i asked him to queue everlong, and it never played. we pulled off the motorway listening to more of his shite, and then the whole way home i was skipping every song i knew he would hate but that i loved, eventually getting to a song i thought he would like but that i didn't. it was horrible, complete awkward silence. and then he apologised for snapping at me. but i know him, and i know how he apologises when he wants to make sure you're not hurt. and this wasn't it. he knew he really hurt me this time, and yet he said "sorry i really snapped at you there." and i said "yeah you were really mad." and that was it. this guy is the king of over apologising for the smallest thing. but now he knows he actually did something wrong, and he said that half hearted shit. i know people will read this and probably just think i'm being a bitch and that i was in the wrong, but it just really hurt me not only to hear him snap at me like that and then not apologise, but what he said. like, my music means a lot to me. a lot. he knows that. i'm nice to him. i go out of my way to do things for him. but you know, underneath i always had this sneaking suspicion that he has a lot of pent up rage. you know he's one of those 'too nice guys'. and i just knew. i know some of his sexual habits, and you see it there too. he's got all this fucking male agression that you can let out normally and safely, but he doesn't. he holds it in, and he lets it out like that when he thinks it's 'safe' and 'normal' to when he's having sex, or it bursts out like that. i don't mean to be offensive by this, because i honestly don't know if i believe it, but like he's just another shred of proof about how fucking agressive some men can be. like it's built in their genes to just be fucking angry assholes. all the men in my life that i've known well have been like that. none of my female friends have been like that (well, all but one i guess). but all through my life, all the men i've known have been so so fucking angry. and some are better at hiding it than others, or letting it out in healthy ways. but most of them? most of them have no fucking clue how to deal with that emotion. and i'm not saying this like i'm any better, because i'm not. but at least when i get that anger i take it out on myself rather than the people around me. i didn't argue back with him in the car, i seethed silently and got home and did everything i could not to cut myself because that's what i do when i'm mad. i hurt myself. and it's not great, but in my eyes it's a million times better than hurting someone else. i'd rather die than hurt other people with my anger like that. it's the most horrible emotion. i wish i could cut it out of me.
hello again. i saw just a moment ago that this thing has 9,000 views. it's strange, to me i've always treated this as some kind of secret diary. of course i don't know how many people have viewed this specific page, or if anyone has even bothered to read any of it. it must be boring.. i am glad it's still so early in february. i wish time would stand still for me.
tomorrow is valentines day. and, well, i've been doing this thing again that i've done so many times before, but it's not usually this intense. i'm falling in love. i need to clarify that it's not real love, not like normal people feel. i've never felt that before and i don't know if i ever will. maybe this is all i can manage. but i am beginning to obsess. i feel like he is the only one i can confide in (although i haven't done too much confiding as of yet.) it is different from usual as i find it hard to talk to people one on one most of the time. but with him.. it comes so naturally. we just work together. but we're better off as friends. i know it, and i think maybe he does too. he was interested before, a few months back, but at that point i wasn't. and now i am, and i think he's over it. he's never said anything before, but i can tell from the way he acts around me. i need more time to think. but even if it was real love, i could never let it happen. for both or our sakes.
i finsihed reading laura palmer's diary today. and boy do i relate to her. she spoke of things i've never heard spoken about before. i knew other people felt those things, sure, but i've never heard anyone say them. to see all my deepest, darkest feelings just laid out on a page like that was jarring, yet comforting. someone else knows how i feel. if you haven't read it, you must. it doesn't even really spoil any of the show. not too much anyway, mostly just things you find out in the first episode. it wasn't the best written book in the world, but her emotions were just so real.
these entries must be so uninteresting to read. maybe this really is my secret little diary. right out in the open, but with nothing much to say. who cares to read it? i have work to do, and i'm hungry. have i mentioned yet how i think i could be delusional or something? i don't know if i have, but sometimes i look back at the shit i wrote here, or in my actual notebooks and... it scares me, and confuses me. i don't know that person. saying things, believeing things that are just not true. that are crazy. i have this obsession with jesus, and sometimes i think i am him, or should have been him. but that shit's insane. i'm saying this so that if anyone does read these things they know to take everything i say with a pinch of salt. especially the crazier stuff.
this place is a SHITHOLE. there's fucking nothing to do here and i have to spend the time with my family doing fuck all instead of hanging out with my friends having fun. plus the whole fucking reason we're here is so my brother can shag is girlfriend who lives 200 miles away and he's just told me that he doesn't love her and wants to go home early and break up with her. FUCK. i mean jesus, i had a concert this weekend and i had to cancel that cause of this 'holiday' and then two days before we left my brother broke up with her and cancelled the trip, then a day later got back with her and wanted to go see her again. and now we're here and he wants to go home. and we're gonna go home and then he'll break up with her and then they'll get back together and I'M gonna be the one that has to clean up the mess because i 'deal with him' better than anyone else. fucking hell i'm missing half my classes on monday because we can't go home on the sunday for some reason because of course nobody thought about me. my brother hasn't gone to school since it started back up for christmas so it's not a big deal for him, my mum doesn't work monday and it's easy for my dad to get the day off. but me? nah, who gives a fuck. i mean, jesus. jesus, i have shit to do. i have essays due in two weeks that are worth 40% of my grade. i need to be in class. i feel like the kid in what's eating gilbert grape. gilbert, not arnie. and i feel like laura palmer. i feel like hell. and god, earlier i was kinda in a shit mood i don't know why i just was. and my mum said "oh it's cause she wants a fag" like FUCK YOU. that's the same kinda belittling shit she's always done only now she knows about the smoking she can focus on that. i'm not mad because i want a cigarette. i'm mad because my whole family is getting on my nerves and i miss my friends and i have to spend the weekend HERE i want to fucking kill myself i have to share a room with my brother and i know that's not a big deal but i feel like on top of everything i can't fucking handle having to listen to his breathing all night. maybe i'll sleep on the couch. anyway anyway anyway. i'm doing this to avoid talking to anyone. maybe tonight or tomorrow i'll go a walk about the town myself, smoke some, whatever. see if there's any little bookshops.
i'm on the train right now, a 3 hour train to inverness, which is up north. that means we have to go through loads of countryside. it's fun, i like train journeys. i think maybe when i'm older i'll buy random long distance train tickets and just go and look at the sights. i've been reading laura palmer's diary. i started reading it before and loved it but never finished it. i started from the beginning again, and i haven't yet got on to any of the new stuff. but it's interesting. when i first read this, i didn't realise how much i understand and relate to laura. jennifer lynch did a very good job of getting all the feelings right. i won't spoil it, but if you've seen twin peaks, you know what laura went through. and if you haven't seen twin peaks, you should. it's deeper than it seems from the outside. you could maybe even read the diary on it's own. i don't know how interesting it would be, and if you could understand it without the context of the show. but it's very sad and very true. we passed some snow-topped hills about half an hour ago, maybe about 10 or 15 of them, one after the other. they weren't particularly tall, not mountains. but they were barren and cold and white, white almost all the way down to the base, even though i haven't really seen it snow much at all this year. we've passed parallel to many roads where i've seen old dusty camper vans driving about carrying friends on adventures. i'd like to do that too. although i am so infatuated with the idea of travelling to foreign countries where i don't know nothing and it doesn't know me. but staying closer to home would be fun too. i live in a wonderful country. i should appreciate it more.
addition: i thought i was done, but we just stopped at one of the stations and i saw a man get off where he met his family. a boy ran up to meet him and hugged him so tight while a woman looked on smiling, with another young boy by her side. another person who got off was greeted by their dog, who leaped up to see them face to face. i hope some day that i can have that, people who love me and come to meet me when i get off the train. my stop is the next one, so i'm going to put my stuff away now and just watch the scenery.
i've been feeling pretty horrible lately. i don't know what it is about my life right now that's triggering it, but i find myself sunk deep back into the depression i expereinced worse when i was about 14-16. i don't know if it's a seasonal thing, or the fact that over christmas i spent several weeks back home and got into the routine of that before having to uproot myself again to come back to uni. i don't know if it's the pressure of uni work, which didn't effect me nearly as bad last semester. i don't know. and it's the worst feeling ever. i have so much work to do tonight and i've spent most of the day feeling like crap and doing fuck all. i had an accidental two hour nap earlier. i even skipped my last lecture today for no damn reason. and here's the worst thing. i have my bridge peirced, which is the area of my nose between my eyes. i love that piercing so damn much. it can be a nuisance, but i love it. i got it in october so it's pretty much healed up by now, at least enough that i can take the bar out without it closing up straight away. so today i get into the shower, and i decide to take the bar out to make it easier to clean the actual piercing. i spent a bit longer than i needed to in the shower, but i still think i was only like a half hour? so i come out, and pretty much the first thing i do i try put the bar back in. and it won't go. i can get it about half way, and then it stops. i kept trying for ages, but eventually started feeling faint so i lay down for a bit. then i tried again, really pushing as hard as i could. it wouldn't budge, and if i spent too long trying i would start to feel dizzy and sick. so i had to give up, and now i don't have a bridge piercing anymore i guess. i'm feeling a bit better about it now, but earlier i was so so damn sad. like... i really loved that thing. it was so cool and unique, and i think it suited me. and now it's gone, and honestly i don't think i'd get it repierced again. especially if it would be going through scar tissue. i think the risk of rejection a second time would be too high. anyway, i only started writing this to hopefully get the bad feeling off my chest so i could continue with my work, which i'm gonna do now. it's 10pm, and i still have two articles i need to read and take notes on :(.
something weird happened to me today. we were talking about eye contact, about how i struggle with it, and my friend brought up a story about a guy he knows who's autistic. and i just said "yeah i think i'm probably mildly autistic too, just from living with my brother (who is), i've ended up picking up a lot of the traits." okay, so it wasn't exactly true. i'm diagnosed autistic, even though i expicitly said to them that i didn't have a diagnosis. but it's the most i've ever come clean to anyone ever about my autism. and i wasn't even scared to do so. i guess i must really trust these people now. funny.
i've been listening to 'the sea is a good place to think of the future' by los campesinos! they took it off apple music :/ but it's still on spotify so it's not all bad. the song really describes me right now.
i put out issue 2 of GODBOG today! no one has to read it, it's not exactly good. i think i've made the resolution to record music for real now. i don't know when exactly, but hopefully sometime before/during this summer at the latest.
i've got a funeral tomorrow, so i'll have to wake up early. i've got the chance to see the body, but i don't think i will. it'll feel false. i know he isn't going to look dead. he'll be all done up, just sleeping. it feels disrespectful in a way, to lie like that. deny death even though we all know it. i'd be willing to see him post death maybe, but not when he's been made up to look alive again. i can't really be bothered with the whole thing. i'm having to miss out on uni, and i just want to laze about and wallow in this. if i go out i'll have to eat :(. oh well, i'll check in later i suppose. i always think i'm going to keep these entries brief, but they never are.
it's been a while. i have so much to say. first of all, i don't want to leave january. 01 is a nice month.
i relapsed with self harm three days ago. i was fifty days clean. the worst part is, i'm not really sure why i did it. fifty days, wasted. for no reason. it was nice to see the blood again, but that's all. nice.
i got stopped by the police last thursday. me and a friend were parked by the side of the road in a little car park sort of thing at about 10pm. we had two joints with us, one of which we'd smoked a bit of. i always sit for about an hour or even more before i start driving, and so we were just sitting there when the police van pulled up beside us. i put down the window, and the officer (there were two) told me he could smell the weed. i just said "yes". he asked how i would get home and i told him i'd drive once i felt ready to. he told me i wasn't going to be driving. he said he was gonna get a female officer to come search me, and i would be detained. then he said the little "you have the right to remain silent" bit. i was a little scared at first, because i don't like authority, so i was that way where i have the tears in my eyes and i can feel how hot and flushed my face is. i'm glad it was dark and cold outside. after i bit i realsied though that it was stupid to be scared. we handed over the joints when he asked for them, and he said it smelled like i had more. i told him i didn't, which was true. then he said "i recognise you, lucy. have you been in trouble with police before." and i was angry because i hadn't, i have never met him in my life and he was just trying to get me to confess to any criminal record i had. so i told him, no i've never met you, i've never been in trouble with police. then we had to get the bus home, and because it was late it was the last bus and it stopped the route half way home. so we had to get out and get an uber. that night i was really upset with myself. but now i don't really care. we're lucky he let us go.
my grandpa died on saturday. it was odd, i was coming home that weekend for my cousins birthday. i came into the house, and it was silent other than my dog running to see me. i had just left after christmas the week before and my parents cried, so i didn't know why they weren't excited to see me. i went into the kitchen and there was my mum and dad. my mum had been crying. at first i was scared that my oldest cat was dead, since he's about twelve. but then she said my grandpa was dead. i didn't know how to react. i mostly just thought 'oh'. i felt no emotion, or if i did i couldn't recognise it. i didn't feel like crying. even that night, alone in my room, i didn't cry. i barely even thought about it. i felt funny though. i didn't want to think about it. i ended up not going to my cousins birthday thing because i knew the family would ask me. and i wasn't so much upset as i was awkward. if they asked me, what would i say? could i walk the tightrope of acting slightly mournful without being too depressing or too upbeat? i didn't think so. and now, it's funny, i'm reading the outsider by albert camus, and the book starts with the characters mother dying, and he doesn't really care. he thinks very much the same way as i do, which is why it's a funny coincidence that i'm reading it now. the sad thing is though, he knew he was going to die. he kept asking my mum to come over and make him tea or meals even though he's in a care home where they can do that stuff for him. he wasn't in need, he just wanted to spend time with his kids before he died. but my mum was mad about how needy he was, and resisted him. she didn't see him as much as she could or should have, and i think she's guilty about it. she's good at not showing it though. we're very similar people.
last night i went out clubbing with my friends n it was like... it was good but i was with one of my best friends and then two girls who i knew but not super well, whereas they all knew one another way better. so anyway it was dead fun and i especially got on well with the girl i knew least which was cute, but anyway at the start of the night one of the girls was having some 'drama' or 'tea' or whatever n so was showing the other girls her phone n like.. whisper chatting to them n they were all "omg wtf, thats crazy girl" and i was like oh what is it? n she was just like oh its private its nothing and i was like.. girl i know its not nothing. if youre gonna talk about this try at least be discreet about it or do it when im not there? or something idk. anyway the night was good and met some cute boys lmao but by the end of the night we kinda got split up and i was with the girl who had the tea earlier n she just seemed really upset and down in the dumps n i was like oh whats up are u okay? and she just wouldnt tell me and i know this is super mean and rude and i kinda feel bad for her but at the same time like.. at least put on a happy face until you get home and can break down. idk. god knows i've done it plenty of times so..... Anyway we meet up togther again and this time theres some random american boy with us that none of us know but he kinda seemed like a creep and was really really desperate to graft even though it was 4am like.. the nights over bro. anyway he pulled me onto his lap and his hand was up my skirt which i wasnt complaining about bc im a slut n i was drunk so.. whatever lol. but anyway i was kissing him and i just heard the other girls like.. doing that "omg! look!" squeal laughing thing n i was like gals just let me pull him he spoke italian lmao. but he really wanted to come home w me and i was like no im getting a taxi boy bye. but the girls made me call TWO taxis then an uber and i know its because the girl who was upset just really wanted to get home but i was like.. theyre coming. i know theyre coming. just give it like at least another ten mins. but anyway we got home fine and i woke up this morning slightly hungover but mostly okay. and the thing was it was a good night and i have no regrets but just five minutes ago i was sitting downstairs with my brother and out of nowhere i knew i was gonna break down. so i had to go up to my room and i put on an album (hesitant alien by gway) and i just started SOBBING like crouched down curled up rocking back and forward silent gasping sobs. and then five mins later i was good. its been a while since i cried like that. usually im crying at movies and stuff so i liked having a real cry, but it was just weird that it came out of nowhere. i also was struggling to breathe and thought i might have been having a panic attack? but i dont think it was serious enough to be that, idk. anyway i feel mostly fine now, it just kinda confused me that i was like. rock bottom ready to self harm or kms and then afterwards i had like a hysterical joy and now im just chill like. girl your mood swings.. ok :/. ANYWAY sorry this entry is so dumb but like.. i go back to uni today and so i have to pack i just really needed to get this out. maybe its the stress of last night and going to uni today thats doing this. i feel like a little girl again. i dont want to grow up, and i dont want to leave home. whatever. ill get over it.
i have so much to say lately. i think just a lot of things are aligning in my life and causing my emotions to go haywire. i'm feeling very stressed out and sick to my stomach, like i'm five or ten years younger. i don't like this. i am overthinking things, and no matter how much i try to distract myself i can't seem to. i'm afraid of the future again. i would do anything to live in this moment. to die in this moment. if i felt nothing more after right now i would be happy. i would have no regrets, i would just be thankful to avoid what comes next. i know i won't survive much longer. my life is barreling downhill at top speed, and it has been my whole life. it's only a matter of time before i crash land at rock bottom. and when i do, there will be nothing holding me back. i know i am going to kill myself. i'm just waiting for the right motivations to do it. i've done my mourning. i've accepted what will become of my life. there's no use being sad over it, or trying to change it. it is fate. i can only hope that after i die, i don't fade into oblivion. or at least, my memory doesn't. whatever happens to me doesn't matter, i'll be dead. but i want people to think of me. not just the people who know me. i want to leave my mark on the world, but not while living. maybe i will have to write some poetry or paint some paintings that will be discovered and become famous after i die. maybe i'll have to kill myself in the strangest way, so people keep talking about it. maybe i'll have to get myself killed. people love to talk about murderers. some how, some way, i want people to remember me. that's just about the only thing stopping me from dying right here and now. sol pais was remembered. is remembered. i know it's so basic neocities goth girl of me to bring up her name. it's almost disrespectful. but what happened to her, i want more than anything for myself. even though her fate was horrible, and i grieved the circumstances almost as much as i grieved her death itself, i want that. i want to suffer that fate. i would do anything for it.
i feel like a new woman. all i needed was a good cry (so good i thought my brains were gonna come out my nose); a good movie, a romance that doesn't really end in romance; a 3000 calorie binge; and some good nostalgic music from 2014. god i'm like.. i'm like more fucking invigorated than i've ever been in my life. i can hear things i've never heard before, feel things i haven't felt in years. everything in my life is so crystal clear, it's like getting a pair of glasses finally when i've had bad eyesight for years. it's like those colourblind kids who get the glasses to finally see colour for the first time in their damn life. i feel like i've just discovered something new. like i've just tasted spice for the first time, and i'm so blown away by the existence of flavour. i know this feeling will be gone by morning, but for now i am electric. i am like billy elliot when he describes dancing. i don't rememebr any of my old life. i don't want to rememebr. i will block out that thought forever. all i want is my childhood, and now. the inbetween means nothing to me. i am reinventing myself. i am someone new today. i am who i could've been if i'd chosen a different path. that's who i'm going to be. what i would've grown up to be if i didn't do all the things i did. i am reverse butterfly effecting my life. i am taking away all those little details that shaped me into who i am, and i'm making myself anew. i don't even know if i make sense. as you read this, can you understand the feeling i'm trying to convey? i don't know. it's so new, so foreign to me that i can't even rely on cliches and conventions to easily explain to you what i mean. i hope you can understand, despite how clumsy my description is. it is a beautiful feeling. slightly sad, but refreshing, like i've just plunged my bare face into the snow. clean. i feel clean. a plain white t shirt. anything can happen.
a new thought:
i am alone in a relationship with mother nature. he is a physical being in my mind, but not like a human being. some different kind of physical thing. what i mean is i can feel him, mother nature, even though physically he isn't there. i'm like a nun married to god. they're not actually together, but they are in a comitted relationship. this isn't some kind of political statement about climate change or something lmao. i just mean in my mind right now i am in a relationship with mother nature, who defys all human comprehension. even i can't comprehend him. but i'm still with him. this sounds so fucking crazy and i know it. i really am delusional, and not in the cool way. just in the weird way.
lately i've been so obsessed with the idea of a romance. i long for it desperately. it's funny, i don't know what's triggered all of this. there have been many events in my life over the past few months that could have, and maybe even should have inspired these feelings. but now? there's nothing i can see that could have caused it. it is comletely spontaneous. but i can't stop thinking about it. i am truly lost in the idea. alone or with others, occupied or not. it's all i can think. all i can see, anywhere i go. every movie i watch seems to focus on it, every book i read, every song i listen to, every person i see. everything around me embodies this romance that i am longing for. it isn't even for anyone specific. in fact, i think if i was faced with the oppertunity in real life for this kind of thing, i would shy away from it. but i feel it in the pit of my stomach that, right now, i need this. the bonnie and clyde, sid and nancy, kurt and courtney. i need to fall so deep and hard and fast that, even if i can see that things are going wrong, our feelings for one another hold it all together. we'll snap eventually, sure, but in the moment we are whirlwind, non-stop. a hurricane of emotion poruing out of both of us, two twisters meeting in the middle, intertwining. i never did like her before, but this is the kind of mood that lana del rey writes the score for. i long for it to stop. i can't stand to feel this way when it's all in my head. i need it to be real. at least tomorrow i will be drunk and free and surrounded by old friends and strangers. nothing will happen, i'm sure, but the connection will make me feel better. placate me until i grow out of this mindset.
[enter a new thought]
i must apologise for waxing poetic like this. i really don't know what has come over me. it may seem pretentious, or stupid. when i read this back in later months or years i will surely be cringing at my word choice. but for now, it's the only way i can think about everything in my head. like a thin veil, the guise of romantic flowery language disguising that this is my life. my fucked up broken life. maybe it's the fact that i sit alone at half past midnight drinking a week old dark fruit cider. god! the memory is stale but fresh all at once. cider in my tea, trying not to cry. and in a way, the thoughts i was having way back then were just the naive, underdeveloped versions of the ones i'm having now. everything is coming together to paint a bittersweet picture of nostalgia in my mind. a memory brought to life by crafted coincidence. every moment i have ever felt this way all at once. a little lost girl, lonely and cold, but wanting. longing. god, i would do anything to be warm. to be what they wanted. the 'they' changes with every memory. sometimes the 'they' is so underdeveloped that i can't even visualise them. but the feeling is always picture perfect and identical, no matter how the circumstances change. i have always longed, and i will continue to long for the rest of my life. i imagine even if i am satisfied for a period, it won't last. it's in my nature to want for more than i can ever have. not greed or gluttony. i don't want more than i need. i need more than i can have. i am destined to live out my life this way, no matter how much i try to fix it. i imagine if i was a fictional character who didn't live within the bounds of reality i would be enourmously wealthy. i would have all the friends, the best socialities, loudest partiers, richest wall street workers. i would live in a mansion, perhaps with an unattentive husband, perhaps alone. i would, on the outside, be completely satisfied. but of course the reader would see through that, see how my wealth was only a ploy to try fill all my emptiness. but it never would. but of course all of this is fictional. i live in the real world, no matter how much i wish i didn't. and in the real world i am just a poor little delusional bitch. i am selfish and greedy and empty, sure. but i will never live the opulent life of that vision, even if i tried. no. i will shop at 24 hour supermarkets. i will ride the subway. i will walk alone at night and hope. i will sleep on a bare matress in a bare room in a single bedroom apartment that i can barely afford. i will eat chips for dinner. i will work at some boring boring job that pays me as much as i deserve, but not enough to live. i will never find anyone interesting enough to read about in my life. no, i will live my boring life with my boring friends in my boring job. i will have a plain, uneventful death. a car crash maybe, or cancer, or old age. i will have a modest funeral. people will cry for me, and then move on. someone else will start my boring job, live in my boring flat, befriend my boring friends. i will not be remembered. i will not be a martyr, a joan of arc. i will not be crucified, not made an example of, not remembered for centuries. not even decades. oh well. i'm bored of thinking about this. maybe i will stare at the ceiling for a few hours. i have to be up early tomorrow.
first off, that date was super weird to write. i've been writing teens for as long as i can remember, and now it's 2020. now onto the actual entry.
i know it sounds crazy, but i think i'm being punished by god. i have a sick sick mind and i have some sick thoughts, so sick i don't even want to post them here. not because i'm ashamed of having those thoughts, but because i don't want people judging me for the vile person i am. so i won't tell anyone ever. but god knows. i don't even know if i believe in him, but i know he knows what kind of person, and he's sending down all this physical hurt and sickness to try and teach me a lesson. i know it. there's no other reason i would feel like this after thinking those things. after acting out those things. objectively i know it's wrong. but i don't think objectively. i'm impulsive and emotionally driven and self centered. i don't care about how all this will impact other people. i barely even think about how it will impact myself. i'm like a chronic chainsmoker. i don't care anymore. i'm a hedonist and nothing is going to stop me from getting what i want. i will destroy others in search of momentary pleasure. it has been a running theme in my life. i will even destroy myself. all the self harm, the eating disorder, the sexual abuse. hurting myself in the long run to feel that instant of pleasure. and this, now, is just another example. all i can say is that i am one sick motherfucker for thinking that way about someone, and wanting that life, and then having the audacity to cry over it like some grieving widow. this won't make much sense to anyone but me. even in the future as i read this back i probably won't know what i'm talking about. but i want to remember that this isn't something i should wish for, or aspire to be. act it out in my head, sure. act it out in real life, as long as you don't hurt anyone. pretend all you want. but when you make it real, there's something seriously wrong with you. and i deserve all this punishment.