There never was and never will be,
Don't you know that you can't see me,
Suddenly you're everybody's fool
Evanescence-Everybody's Fool (morphed by me)
Its been a brilliant day. Too brilliant. The moment I stepped off the train to the bus to the chippie at the end of a gorgeous, fun, trusting day, I felt Deserving (cutting). I haven't cut for while, not since when I pretty much attacked myself. Routine. I kind of just got lost. On the bus, I could the feel the worry fill into me. I now realise it was panic...
That was saturday, around 9:30 pm. Despite calming down, I cut anyway. I think it was routine.
Tomorrow I'm coming out. I haven't got time to write a big analysis on it, so just-wish me luck and wait for the next installment.....
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Friday, July 30, 2004
Update
My life feels...different.
I can't tell how, or why or exactly when it happened, but I have been injected with a large dose of 'fearlessness'. I'm a massive fan of the Fearless series by Francine Pascal. Yes, she's the person who wrote the Sweet Valley High books. I will never forgive her for that. But, I think for all the sickly sickness its turned into delightful dysfunction with her Fearless books. I'm on number 18 when everything changes-would it surprise you if I told you that I've been searching all over Ealing for this book like a month...it shouldn't. I am a total book freak. I have little orgasms over finding the old book that has been revered and recommended, like when I found Martyn Pig after searching for it for three years...or was it two? Ever since it came out anyway.
Anyway there's a description when Gaia is face to face with some menace or thug or something and she says she feels a buzzing sound, where fear is supposed to be and there's adrenaline instead. I think thats where I am at the moment.
Last night I was so ready to come out to my brother. It really was one of those long nights when time is stretching out like a lazy cat (I wrote a poem about it. I have like 8 poems to write up now..) and I really needed to talk to someone because I was going mad and...I'll write up what I wrote later.
Also, I'm entering a BBC competition-its this thing in Edinburgh so I doubt I'll win, but its nice to write simple short stories. I actually wrote two (well, 1 and three quarters.). But you know what I hate about story competitions? Word limits. It just restricts the creativity. I understand if they don't want overlong stupid epic pieces, but 500 words?! More like 600, or eccentric numbers like 628.7, cause writing is eccentric, good stories have good styles, eccentricity. Or just out and out madness-its all good. Anyways, if I don't win, I'll post the story and get you're opinions. I gotta go to Childrens Express-later!
I can't tell how, or why or exactly when it happened, but I have been injected with a large dose of 'fearlessness'. I'm a massive fan of the Fearless series by Francine Pascal. Yes, she's the person who wrote the Sweet Valley High books. I will never forgive her for that. But, I think for all the sickly sickness its turned into delightful dysfunction with her Fearless books. I'm on number 18 when everything changes-would it surprise you if I told you that I've been searching all over Ealing for this book like a month...it shouldn't. I am a total book freak. I have little orgasms over finding the old book that has been revered and recommended, like when I found Martyn Pig after searching for it for three years...or was it two? Ever since it came out anyway.
Anyway there's a description when Gaia is face to face with some menace or thug or something and she says she feels a buzzing sound, where fear is supposed to be and there's adrenaline instead. I think thats where I am at the moment.
Last night I was so ready to come out to my brother. It really was one of those long nights when time is stretching out like a lazy cat (I wrote a poem about it. I have like 8 poems to write up now..) and I really needed to talk to someone because I was going mad and...I'll write up what I wrote later.
Also, I'm entering a BBC competition-its this thing in Edinburgh so I doubt I'll win, but its nice to write simple short stories. I actually wrote two (well, 1 and three quarters.). But you know what I hate about story competitions? Word limits. It just restricts the creativity. I understand if they don't want overlong stupid epic pieces, but 500 words?! More like 600, or eccentric numbers like 628.7, cause writing is eccentric, good stories have good styles, eccentricity. Or just out and out madness-its all good. Anyways, if I don't win, I'll post the story and get you're opinions. I gotta go to Childrens Express-later!
Monday, July 26, 2004
Fuck my last entry
I'm not suicidal. I'm not some whiny kid in her oh-so-terrible london house and pretty car with her room, TV and stereo, and broadband. This person has lived through so much crap-sure, her parents broke up when she couldn't remember, but her Daddy gave her every thing he could and more. She has her job, friends who love her and she was almost popular in high school, but she managed to live all through that with her broken heart, and those god-damn pretty scars. She will prevail. She will not fall. She will not die by her own hands, or feet, or Salesmen. She'll realise what her destiny when she dies.
Saturday, July 24, 2004
Salesmen
Turns out I didn't explain myself about Salesmen. The night when I thought I had truly defeated 'SG' (scissor god) I had realised who were telling me how disgusting I was and that cutting was the only way out. Its those horrid evil voices in your head, turned bitter by worry and regret. Those voices tell you to doubt your soulmate, they cut off your chances, they stop you speaking out and getting the girl. So I call them Salesmen, because they're convincing me to do something I don't need nor want to do. Salesmen only care that you do what they say, using all sorts of their marketing skills-these Salesmen are dangerous because these voices are part of you. There's no point in viewing it as a dot on the horizon. They are part, or all of the evil within us, and its all about seeing through their schemes-its easier to imagine your Salesman as Mr Anderson from The Matrix. Its always so much better to view your enemy, then they're not some mysterious being that swoops upon like a gale. It makes everything so straightforward and rigid in its movements and actions and methods.
So, Mr Anderson beat me, a couple of days ago, and now I'm having a worrying obsession with trains. I've been travelling a lot lately-to Childrens Express http://www.childrens-express.org.uk, or just around...and I've been on my own after a long hard, or dreading it. I end up standing just short of the edge of the floor, just short of the actual tracks, and I wonder if I'd die if I jumped. Its horrible, thinking like that. I watch the metal tracks as if I'm on them, as if I'm about to jump and I keep thinking about what happens till the train pulls into the station and I feel the slipstream. Its a bit of the rush, like cutting-it (cutting) doesn't feel good, but now I'm doing it out of habit, to LIVE. Not to just get through the day, but to just function.
I did a little test to see how depressed I was. Here was the result:
Goldberg's depression test:
You have reached level 69 on the Goldberg scale.
0 - 9
Depression unlikely
21 - 35
Minor to moderate depression
10 - 17
Possibly minor depression
36 - 53
Moderate to severe depression
18 - 21
On the verge of depression
54+
Severe depression You are having suicidal thoughts. This is a serious warning sign, and you must seek help quickly.You have the symptoms of severe depression. The condition seems to cause serious problems in your everyday life, and you should consult your doctor immediately.Depression is a disease like any other disease, and it can be treated very effectively. Recognising that you are suffering from depression is the first positive step. If you are depressed, you should arrange to see your doctor to talk about the illness right away. You may also want to raise the issue with your friends and family. You should look for support from these people you until you get well. Anyone can suffer from depression, and the symptoms can vary from person to person. Treatments, including medication and psychotherapy, have a very high success rate.Please note that this test result is not a certain assessment of your mental health. You should always consult a doctor if you feel depressed or if you feel that worries and anxiety have taken over and affected the activities of your daily life.
So, there you have it. I'm quite fucked up. I didn't realise I was as bad as I was. I also did a Self Image Test, and it says I have Body Dysmorphic Disorder (body hate). So, contrary to what my therapist thinks-I don't cut because my mum left me, I cut because I'm disgusting and I hate myself. Don't know why I'm complaining-I've got the rest of my summer planned. I'm working from Monday to Wednesday, I'm at Oxfam on Thurs and Sundays, and on Fridays I'm at Children's Express writing, so I only have Saturdays free till September. I'm apprehensive...tired...thats all for now.
So, Mr Anderson beat me, a couple of days ago, and now I'm having a worrying obsession with trains. I've been travelling a lot lately-to Childrens Express http://www.childrens-express.org.uk, or just around...and I've been on my own after a long hard, or dreading it. I end up standing just short of the edge of the floor, just short of the actual tracks, and I wonder if I'd die if I jumped. Its horrible, thinking like that. I watch the metal tracks as if I'm on them, as if I'm about to jump and I keep thinking about what happens till the train pulls into the station and I feel the slipstream. Its a bit of the rush, like cutting-it (cutting) doesn't feel good, but now I'm doing it out of habit, to LIVE. Not to just get through the day, but to just function.
I did a little test to see how depressed I was. Here was the result:
Goldberg's depression test:
You have reached level 69 on the Goldberg scale.
0 - 9
Depression unlikely
21 - 35
Minor to moderate depression
10 - 17
Possibly minor depression
36 - 53
Moderate to severe depression
18 - 21
On the verge of depression
54+
Severe depression You are having suicidal thoughts. This is a serious warning sign, and you must seek help quickly.You have the symptoms of severe depression. The condition seems to cause serious problems in your everyday life, and you should consult your doctor immediately.Depression is a disease like any other disease, and it can be treated very effectively. Recognising that you are suffering from depression is the first positive step. If you are depressed, you should arrange to see your doctor to talk about the illness right away. You may also want to raise the issue with your friends and family. You should look for support from these people you until you get well. Anyone can suffer from depression, and the symptoms can vary from person to person. Treatments, including medication and psychotherapy, have a very high success rate.Please note that this test result is not a certain assessment of your mental health. You should always consult a doctor if you feel depressed or if you feel that worries and anxiety have taken over and affected the activities of your daily life.
So, there you have it. I'm quite fucked up. I didn't realise I was as bad as I was. I also did a Self Image Test, and it says I have Body Dysmorphic Disorder (body hate). So, contrary to what my therapist thinks-I don't cut because my mum left me, I cut because I'm disgusting and I hate myself. Don't know why I'm complaining-I've got the rest of my summer planned. I'm working from Monday to Wednesday, I'm at Oxfam on Thurs and Sundays, and on Fridays I'm at Children's Express writing, so I only have Saturdays free till September. I'm apprehensive...tired...thats all for now.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
Madness
Its a bit late and I can't speak for long right now, so here is what happened today:
Today was a double whammy. I had an interview for my first job and I was doing my other job at Oxfam since the Sunday disaster. Firstly, I thought this day would just go badly: I managed to mess up my perfect top and had to change 20 mins before I got there, and I then found out I applied for a totally different job I thought I'd get. I thought I was applying for a job in a hairdressers, but it turned I posted my CV next door and I had applied to a totally different company. So, shaken and shook (I thought I had been pranked) I went to another interview totally nonplussed. But......I GOT THE JOB!!!! Woo-hoo, I was.
The job sounds manic (tough/mad) though. I have to talk on the phone a lot (I'm nervous about talking to strangers on the phone, despite being a Gemini) and make all these appointments. They tried to show me what to do and it just made my brain hurt. That might have been because I stayed up till 2am listening to Alex Parks wondering why I attacked myself (more later). I'm being paid...£4 a hour and now my life will be so busy, because I have two jobs and Children's Express and I'm going to have to juggle everything. At least my typing is better. I like being busy-it means I lose weight. I have proof for this. I have to keep holding up my size 20 trousers: they keep sliding down my arse, which means shopping! and more good news.
Oxfam was cool. I worked with this new guy two years younger than Dad all afternoon and hardly anything went wrong, I even managed to tame the bloody credit card machine. When I got the call that I had actually got the job, I did a little whoop and decided to spend almost all of the rest of my birthday money. I bought three albums from Oxfam (Texas: White on Blonde, MJ Cole: Sincere, Lene Marlin: Playing my Game), then I went to Waterstones and finallly bought this book I've wanted for about two months now (Liam Hearn: Across The Nightingale Floor). I re did my library book (Sarah Waters: Tipping the Velvet-HIGHLY recommended.). I'm re-reading my favourite slash story (Underwater Light by Maya), I got my freebies from Xfm but I have to phone the post office first. I look alright, I'm doing loads more stuff with Childrens Express and I've made some friends there (James, Fikir and Samir). I'm working towards work experience in media and for the next five weeks till COLLEGE starts, I'll be busy everyday except Saturdays. Also, I've written about 15 decent (some more than decent) poems in the last two/three days. I am, truly, on a roll.
This is the best summer ever.
If only I could stop cutting.
If only I could stop being afraid.
If only, if only I could just let go and stop crying. And get rid of my Salesman (I did explain that, didn't I?)
I dunno, its just like two(?) days ago, I was OK. I didn't have a reason to cut, things were going my way for once and everything didn't just seem so hopeless and horrid. Yet that night I cut myself six times. And I managed to punch myself, slap myself, and cry my eyes out. My cutting has sunk to a whole new level (not low, its not really a bitch, really truly.) I remember it now in confusion: it was kinda like a drug and I didn't have to be all theatrical about it anymore, I could just do it to go in-between days. At first I did it because I didn't want to kill myself. Then I wanted to kill myself cutting and had a breakdown over that (cos of the irony?) and now I don't know what to do. It doesn't calm me (as much), it puts me in pain now cause I'm cutting shallower than usual, its nearing the bloody vein, and the amount of cuts are mounting ferociously.
And of course, since my life is always a little fucked somewhere, here's the proof: Ria and Nik, my best friends, the only people who are able to take away the scissors from my hands, are going away on holiday. Nik's already gone and has pissed off for two weeks. Ria is leaving on Saturday, and on her arrival a week from then will be the endgame of lying to Dad (coming out-shudder). I'd tell her about my recent cutting, but I don't want to worry her, and have her worrying about me the whole of her holiday. Its just not fair on her.
And now my eyes are hurting and I have another busy day ahead of me. You know the feeling ypu have when you keep staring at someone and your eyes start to ache and water? Well, I'm having that feeling and I'm blinking....not good.
Also 24 ended...nonononononononnononononononono! Jack is going to the dark side I can see it...everyone is leaving...the President is gone, Sherry is 'dead' (I refuse to believe that until the next series start, next fucking year)...its just not right...how the hell will the next series carry out? Its just blasphemy, y'know?
Ohh, sorry for cutting, for anyone who cares outthere. I can't help being pathetically illogical... x
Today was a double whammy. I had an interview for my first job and I was doing my other job at Oxfam since the Sunday disaster. Firstly, I thought this day would just go badly: I managed to mess up my perfect top and had to change 20 mins before I got there, and I then found out I applied for a totally different job I thought I'd get. I thought I was applying for a job in a hairdressers, but it turned I posted my CV next door and I had applied to a totally different company. So, shaken and shook (I thought I had been pranked) I went to another interview totally nonplussed. But......I GOT THE JOB!!!! Woo-hoo, I was.
The job sounds manic (tough/mad) though. I have to talk on the phone a lot (I'm nervous about talking to strangers on the phone, despite being a Gemini) and make all these appointments. They tried to show me what to do and it just made my brain hurt. That might have been because I stayed up till 2am listening to Alex Parks wondering why I attacked myself (more later). I'm being paid...£4 a hour and now my life will be so busy, because I have two jobs and Children's Express and I'm going to have to juggle everything. At least my typing is better. I like being busy-it means I lose weight. I have proof for this. I have to keep holding up my size 20 trousers: they keep sliding down my arse, which means shopping! and more good news.
Oxfam was cool. I worked with this new guy two years younger than Dad all afternoon and hardly anything went wrong, I even managed to tame the bloody credit card machine. When I got the call that I had actually got the job, I did a little whoop and decided to spend almost all of the rest of my birthday money. I bought three albums from Oxfam (Texas: White on Blonde, MJ Cole: Sincere, Lene Marlin: Playing my Game), then I went to Waterstones and finallly bought this book I've wanted for about two months now (Liam Hearn: Across The Nightingale Floor). I re did my library book (Sarah Waters: Tipping the Velvet-HIGHLY recommended.). I'm re-reading my favourite slash story (Underwater Light by Maya), I got my freebies from Xfm but I have to phone the post office first. I look alright, I'm doing loads more stuff with Childrens Express and I've made some friends there (James, Fikir and Samir). I'm working towards work experience in media and for the next five weeks till COLLEGE starts, I'll be busy everyday except Saturdays. Also, I've written about 15 decent (some more than decent) poems in the last two/three days. I am, truly, on a roll.
This is the best summer ever.
If only I could stop cutting.
If only I could stop being afraid.
If only, if only I could just let go and stop crying. And get rid of my Salesman (I did explain that, didn't I?)
I dunno, its just like two(?) days ago, I was OK. I didn't have a reason to cut, things were going my way for once and everything didn't just seem so hopeless and horrid. Yet that night I cut myself six times. And I managed to punch myself, slap myself, and cry my eyes out. My cutting has sunk to a whole new level (not low, its not really a bitch, really truly.) I remember it now in confusion: it was kinda like a drug and I didn't have to be all theatrical about it anymore, I could just do it to go in-between days. At first I did it because I didn't want to kill myself. Then I wanted to kill myself cutting and had a breakdown over that (cos of the irony?) and now I don't know what to do. It doesn't calm me (as much), it puts me in pain now cause I'm cutting shallower than usual, its nearing the bloody vein, and the amount of cuts are mounting ferociously.
And of course, since my life is always a little fucked somewhere, here's the proof: Ria and Nik, my best friends, the only people who are able to take away the scissors from my hands, are going away on holiday. Nik's already gone and has pissed off for two weeks. Ria is leaving on Saturday, and on her arrival a week from then will be the endgame of lying to Dad (coming out-shudder). I'd tell her about my recent cutting, but I don't want to worry her, and have her worrying about me the whole of her holiday. Its just not fair on her.
And now my eyes are hurting and I have another busy day ahead of me. You know the feeling ypu have when you keep staring at someone and your eyes start to ache and water? Well, I'm having that feeling and I'm blinking....not good.
Also 24 ended...nonononononononnononononononono! Jack is going to the dark side I can see it...everyone is leaving...the President is gone, Sherry is 'dead' (I refuse to believe that until the next series start, next fucking year)...its just not right...how the hell will the next series carry out? Its just blasphemy, y'know?
Ohh, sorry for cutting, for anyone who cares outthere. I can't help being pathetically illogical... x
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Ivy
-I just like the word, its seductive...
Anyhoo, I haven't written in a couple of days, I think. I'm really tired. At last, days of staying up till 3 in the morning has taken its toll. I can't help it, it just seems to be the time I'm most creative/stubborn.
Oxfam was cool. The moment the guy I was working with left I messed up the machine and it took me forever to fix it, which left me tense all day. Aargh-my horoscope warned me last night and I decided to just not listen to it, and I tend to read it every day, just to be prepared, safe in thought that people choose this as their cradle of safety, and I lull myself into a false sense of security. The guy I worked with was interesting-he's introduced me to so many different artists. i heard of Roots Manuva, but I was watching out for MC (Tony?) Rotten. I had heard of The Roots, but I didn't know they were so good. Same goes for MC Solaar-if anybody got any translations of his songs-please, please, please send me a link.
The day before I hanged with Ria, Little Meg, and others: people who used to be my 'friends' but we weren't bothered to pretend any more. Everyone kept showing off on their guitars and Ria was a little frosty to Ciara at times, but apart from that, nothing much. I stayed till quarter to 1am cos I just didn't want to leave her side. I'll write more later, because I'm reading something else (Harry Potter Slash-what else?!), so watch out for the update. Oh, and this site might interest you. He's a great black political writer, and this site says it has some of poems but I haven't looked thorugh it yet: http://www.gilscottheron.com/ . Enjoy!
Anyhoo, I haven't written in a couple of days, I think. I'm really tired. At last, days of staying up till 3 in the morning has taken its toll. I can't help it, it just seems to be the time I'm most creative/stubborn.
Oxfam was cool. The moment the guy I was working with left I messed up the machine and it took me forever to fix it, which left me tense all day. Aargh-my horoscope warned me last night and I decided to just not listen to it, and I tend to read it every day, just to be prepared, safe in thought that people choose this as their cradle of safety, and I lull myself into a false sense of security. The guy I worked with was interesting-he's introduced me to so many different artists. i heard of Roots Manuva, but I was watching out for MC (Tony?) Rotten. I had heard of The Roots, but I didn't know they were so good. Same goes for MC Solaar-if anybody got any translations of his songs-please, please, please send me a link.
The day before I hanged with Ria, Little Meg, and others: people who used to be my 'friends' but we weren't bothered to pretend any more. Everyone kept showing off on their guitars and Ria was a little frosty to Ciara at times, but apart from that, nothing much. I stayed till quarter to 1am cos I just didn't want to leave her side. I'll write more later, because I'm reading something else (Harry Potter Slash-what else?!), so watch out for the update. Oh, and this site might interest you. He's a great black political writer, and this site says it has some of poems but I haven't looked thorugh it yet: http://www.gilscottheron.com/ . Enjoy!
Friday, July 16, 2004
Another Day At The Office
Yesterday I was working at Oxfam again. We met some cool people: a really shy guy who gabbled a bit about some vinyl records he wanted and disappeared, a man who asked for 'Blue Movies' (I still can't believe he actually asked me!), a postman who kissed the shop window cause he thought Jess was fit (which she is) and a load of mistakes by us throughout the day (I still can't use the credit card machine properly, lol) and a BBC journalist who wanted to mention us on the BBC london show. They're doing this thing about the little gems in the city, Oxfam Music shop included. Tom (the manager), rattled on about the shop. Apparentely its the only 'music' shop in London, because the others sell books and other non-music things, they were talking about the roadshow (they're coming down to Ealing Broadway on the weekend of the 28th August-just after my GCSE results, I've noticed-less than six weeks away!). It's great to be part of a brand of people who actually enjoy their job.
Cutting...has gotten easier(to resist). I was talking to a great friend of mine who didn't understand depression because he's quite a happy. I described it as something that chooses you, and you can't control it, you can only cope with it...
Their reply was simple, but like a lot of the things they say, it kinda stuck. They said that I described it was something that controlled me, but that didn't make sense because depression doesn't control me, I control myself. And that stayed with me, because it made this monster in my mind I used to battle with everynight look like some fake kid in a dress. That I had no need to be scared. Cheers, mate.
Today is an off day. Tomorrow I'm going to a birthday party, then on Sunday I have my Oxfam job. Then on Tuesday is the HIV conference, Wednesday I'll probably spend writing up, and Thursday is another interview/job combo. Friday or Saturday I'm going out, then I've got my Oxfam job on Sunday...I love being busy, otherwise I'd just go stir-crazy and bitchy crazy. And I've got these horrible cramps and galaxy hazelnut (my usual medicine) isn't working-damn thing...
Lets call this a happier post.
Cutting...has gotten easier(to resist). I was talking to a great friend of mine who didn't understand depression because he's quite a happy. I described it as something that chooses you, and you can't control it, you can only cope with it...
Their reply was simple, but like a lot of the things they say, it kinda stuck. They said that I described it was something that controlled me, but that didn't make sense because depression doesn't control me, I control myself. And that stayed with me, because it made this monster in my mind I used to battle with everynight look like some fake kid in a dress. That I had no need to be scared. Cheers, mate.
Today is an off day. Tomorrow I'm going to a birthday party, then on Sunday I have my Oxfam job. Then on Tuesday is the HIV conference, Wednesday I'll probably spend writing up, and Thursday is another interview/job combo. Friday or Saturday I'm going out, then I've got my Oxfam job on Sunday...I love being busy, otherwise I'd just go stir-crazy and bitchy crazy. And I've got these horrible cramps and galaxy hazelnut (my usual medicine) isn't working-damn thing...
Lets call this a happier post.
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Achievement
I can't say much now, because I have to be off somewhere, but I had a little triumph over my cutting problem. I haven't felt this happy for no reason for months and months. Later!
Okay, now its later..(8:30pm-Queer Eye in the background. Fab-u-lous show). As you can tell I'm weirdly happy. You have no idea how quietly grateful for that. I was so depressed last night. Like one those nights when everything hits you and its NOT ok. And I was so ready for this, to make this a routine so I won't have to be scared of fury pr passion or drowning ever again, my strong voice came in and told me I didn't have to do this. It was such an alien concept to me right then I had to listen to it, not dismiss as mad ramblings. I'm more distrustful of familiar things rather than new things for some reason...
And anyways I was listening to this voice, telling me that if I just put the scissors down and go to sleep, that I would be able to sleep for weeks and weeks before....I have to cut again. And this got me, because I was thinking, whats the point of going through and wasting all that strength now when I'm going to cut anyway down the line? But still part of me persisted and was winning. I was starting to see that I could do other things like slapping if I absolutely have to. Drawing on your arms with red pen helps too, for some reason. Then my mind flipped out and I was imagining one of my friends dying in a car crash and me killing myself over it. I've had this same dream, with so many different people, and so many, many ways of dying I knew what was going to happen but it was crippling me anyway.
The panic was rising, the scissors were very ready, and then I just started to see myself differently. As one person. One person who will want to hurt me, and will use anything to do just that. The dream was an illusion to bring everything on top of me. I wanted to cut to make everything go away. But I realised I didn't have to cut, and all I would have needed to do is sleep. To write, draw on myself, hide the fucking scissors, and sleep. And I smiled, and I looked at this pathetic, gun metal-coloured little thing I had the madness to call my 'Scissor God' and I laughed it. I actually smiled at it, and put it away as if I was putting away some old photos of me with kinky hair and a red nose that I believed would ruin my life for ever. And I saved myself for once. For one night, I was my superman (well, WO-man) and I'm really proud of myself. I've finally done something that matters a little.
Obviously, this isn't all over yet, but I'm definitely getting somewhere. Hope I didn't bore you with my thoughts!
Okay, now its later..(8:30pm-Queer Eye in the background. Fab-u-lous show). As you can tell I'm weirdly happy. You have no idea how quietly grateful for that. I was so depressed last night. Like one those nights when everything hits you and its NOT ok. And I was so ready for this, to make this a routine so I won't have to be scared of fury pr passion or drowning ever again, my strong voice came in and told me I didn't have to do this. It was such an alien concept to me right then I had to listen to it, not dismiss as mad ramblings. I'm more distrustful of familiar things rather than new things for some reason...
And anyways I was listening to this voice, telling me that if I just put the scissors down and go to sleep, that I would be able to sleep for weeks and weeks before....I have to cut again. And this got me, because I was thinking, whats the point of going through and wasting all that strength now when I'm going to cut anyway down the line? But still part of me persisted and was winning. I was starting to see that I could do other things like slapping if I absolutely have to. Drawing on your arms with red pen helps too, for some reason. Then my mind flipped out and I was imagining one of my friends dying in a car crash and me killing myself over it. I've had this same dream, with so many different people, and so many, many ways of dying I knew what was going to happen but it was crippling me anyway.
The panic was rising, the scissors were very ready, and then I just started to see myself differently. As one person. One person who will want to hurt me, and will use anything to do just that. The dream was an illusion to bring everything on top of me. I wanted to cut to make everything go away. But I realised I didn't have to cut, and all I would have needed to do is sleep. To write, draw on myself, hide the fucking scissors, and sleep. And I smiled, and I looked at this pathetic, gun metal-coloured little thing I had the madness to call my 'Scissor God' and I laughed it. I actually smiled at it, and put it away as if I was putting away some old photos of me with kinky hair and a red nose that I believed would ruin my life for ever. And I saved myself for once. For one night, I was my superman (well, WO-man) and I'm really proud of myself. I've finally done something that matters a little.
Obviously, this isn't all over yet, but I'm definitely getting somewhere. Hope I didn't bore you with my thoughts!
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Antidestablishmentarianism
I've gone down a dress size!! I am now an (almost) acceptable size 18. I tried on a pair of jeans, they fit fine and my arse looked great! So that was my day, lol. I bumped into my friend Lisa and I went to her house. On Tuesday it was (feels like a month ago), I was at her house when I told her I was going to come out to my Dad in August. She gave me a bit of a going over: "Are you absolutely sure?" "You know, this is your last chance.." Which did make me think, along with her ideas and all. She says that I might be gay because:
I only hang out with girls (not true)
My dad is too strict
I haven't got laid, and am behind schedule
I don't think its any of that. Its mainly because out of almost all the guys I've fancied, bar two I chose to fancy them. Does this make sense? No? Ok, let me explain:
* You can make yourself fancy a person, if at first you feel neutral about them
* Then in my naive state, the moment, they were nice to me, I create a world
* In this world, I allow myself to fancy this person. They are perfect.
* I am clever (bored) enough to stay in this fantasy and the fantasy Betty fancies.
Its very surreal, and I've only just realised this today on the bus to Primark. Obviously, there are some people you can't help fancying, but the neutral, boring people, you can fancy. Its how I've managed to stay straight for so long, but you can't keep a gay gal down. So, I know, really, 100% know that I'm gay and that although comiong out is more or less 'No Way Out', I can handle it. Its me, and I'm so comfortable with me I barely consider it these days, which is strange because I only realised I was gay last September. i move way too fast for my liking. Will add later, tired, and I have to take my hair out and i want to eat ICE CREAM.
I only hang out with girls (not true)
My dad is too strict
I haven't got laid, and am behind schedule
I don't think its any of that. Its mainly because out of almost all the guys I've fancied, bar two I chose to fancy them. Does this make sense? No? Ok, let me explain:
* You can make yourself fancy a person, if at first you feel neutral about them
* Then in my naive state, the moment, they were nice to me, I create a world
* In this world, I allow myself to fancy this person. They are perfect.
* I am clever (bored) enough to stay in this fantasy and the fantasy Betty fancies.
Its very surreal, and I've only just realised this today on the bus to Primark. Obviously, there are some people you can't help fancying, but the neutral, boring people, you can fancy. Its how I've managed to stay straight for so long, but you can't keep a gay gal down. So, I know, really, 100% know that I'm gay and that although comiong out is more or less 'No Way Out', I can handle it. Its me, and I'm so comfortable with me I barely consider it these days, which is strange because I only realised I was gay last September. i move way too fast for my liking. Will add later, tired, and I have to take my hair out and i want to eat ICE CREAM.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Today
I don't think its going to go too well. For starters, what used to be a slightly overcast day is now a mad hard-hitting storm. Also, the fact that I just can't log into hotmail-its saying: Account Closed. Access Denied.
Even more, its not giving any reason, at all. I can't access my emails, I'm expceting some as well, and I'm losing my mind. (Now Playing: Ryan Adams *Wonderwall*)Today was supposed a 'Me' day, a day to relax, write my chapter and read some of my books. It's my cousin Jason's 17th b'day today, so I'm seeing him later. I have to ask people if they would come with me tomorrow to Childrens Express-my Dad is mucho strict. And I cut myself last night. Just so I could feel something-I was still on the painkiller feeling from Sunday. It was so surreal. I just decided to let go a little, and I didn't make such a big deal of it. I mean, i was crying and i was aware that I was crying but I didn't feel sad, I felt...numb. Alone. (Now Playing: Mad Season-the single) also, I was feeling the beginnings of panic, or sadness, or something. I didn't want to register it as an actual emotion, or i would start self-examinging myself again, and I want to avoid that. It's gonna be a long summer.
I love hard pounding rain. Real rains, like the ones that come once a year in parts of Jamaica and in India. Its natural ferocity, and I think its beautiful. Its the the kind of rain I always to just get out dance in, and just all my fucked-up-ness washes itself away.
The rain has stopped now, and a bit of blue is peeking out. I shoud take more chances.
Anyway, I want to post a little poem of mine. Its Part Two of a poem I wrote called Soul-Break and I find it too personal to use anywhere else but here. Its what i think to myself whenever I want to cut. The most important parts I think are the first verse and the second little verse. I have to remember that you don't have to cut to calm yourself and get rid of the Panic.
Part Two of Soul Break
Falling apart like the Mona Lisa
Is better done than said.
For you have not won.
You lose, in the most glorious way
So as you re-amerge,
Your cracks tacked together,
Remember what you might
Have done instead
To stop your impending breakdown.
Remember that you might have bled
To try and pause a hideous;
Wondrous, inevitable.
And never be afraid, to fall again
In my arms.
Love me truly and give yourself fully
So that I can't hurt you.
Let me give myself faithfully.
Promise that you'll never break me,
Hurt me.
So that when you do,
I'll know that it wasn't true,
That it's not real,
That it was not natural.
I want to make your eyes bejewelled
So kiss me. Gently
And I'll give you my world
To make it rightfully yours.
You already own me,
You silly girl.
Even more, its not giving any reason, at all. I can't access my emails, I'm expceting some as well, and I'm losing my mind. (Now Playing: Ryan Adams *Wonderwall*)Today was supposed a 'Me' day, a day to relax, write my chapter and read some of my books. It's my cousin Jason's 17th b'day today, so I'm seeing him later. I have to ask people if they would come with me tomorrow to Childrens Express-my Dad is mucho strict. And I cut myself last night. Just so I could feel something-I was still on the painkiller feeling from Sunday. It was so surreal. I just decided to let go a little, and I didn't make such a big deal of it. I mean, i was crying and i was aware that I was crying but I didn't feel sad, I felt...numb. Alone. (Now Playing: Mad Season-the single) also, I was feeling the beginnings of panic, or sadness, or something. I didn't want to register it as an actual emotion, or i would start self-examinging myself again, and I want to avoid that. It's gonna be a long summer.
I love hard pounding rain. Real rains, like the ones that come once a year in parts of Jamaica and in India. Its natural ferocity, and I think its beautiful. Its the the kind of rain I always to just get out dance in, and just all my fucked-up-ness washes itself away.
The rain has stopped now, and a bit of blue is peeking out. I shoud take more chances.
Anyway, I want to post a little poem of mine. Its Part Two of a poem I wrote called Soul-Break and I find it too personal to use anywhere else but here. Its what i think to myself whenever I want to cut. The most important parts I think are the first verse and the second little verse. I have to remember that you don't have to cut to calm yourself and get rid of the Panic.
Part Two of Soul Break
Falling apart like the Mona Lisa
Is better done than said.
For you have not won.
You lose, in the most glorious way
So as you re-amerge,
Your cracks tacked together,
Remember what you might
Have done instead
To stop your impending breakdown.
Remember that you might have bled
To try and pause a hideous;
Wondrous, inevitable.
And never be afraid, to fall again
In my arms.
Love me truly and give yourself fully
So that I can't hurt you.
Let me give myself faithfully.
Promise that you'll never break me,
Hurt me.
So that when you do,
I'll know that it wasn't true,
That it's not real,
That it was not natural.
I want to make your eyes bejewelled
So kiss me. Gently
And I'll give you my world
To make it rightfully yours.
You already own me,
You silly girl.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
The Troggs
Remember them? Well, I bonded with my fellow workmates whilst Jess (unbelievably fit with very low cut top, I had to look squarely at-her-face all day) put on the best of The Troggs.
I had two big teen things today: interview with one of the colleges I might go to (Richmond)and spent two hours there, talking over my options and getting my timetable sorted. The people are so nice, and the course sound so great, but if I can't get there then there's no point...
Anyway, my main concern with college is deciding on my courses. My core three are: English Lit+Lang, History and Politics and now I'm trying to choose between Classical Civilisation, Psychology and Philosophy-I can only choose one or the other, or the other one! Damn 4 AS syllabus...
I was talking to so many teachers, taking in so much information about philosophy and all this future stuff it was giving me a real headache. But we left, with a load of papers, more confident about the future than usual.
So, I went home, slept and had some cornflakes, and went off to my new job. Oh, doesn't that sound great? When I told Mrs Lyons, she was more excited than anyone, said that I'd be more busy and I'd have some structure to my life, which would help this no-cutting business smoother. I'd like to think so too. So why, on Sunday, the night before I got the volunteering job, did I cut myself? Time will tell that I finally snapped. (there's a battle going on in my brain, and I lost that night.) Sigh, the freaky thing is, that I can't feel a fucking thing. The moment after, I felt as if I'd overdosed on painkillers or something-total calm, it was so surreal. Lyons says it means I don't feel as guilty, which is a good thing cos it breaks the cycle....what's done is done. And thats the last time I see Mrs Lyons till September.
Anyway, my job at Oxfam Music shop? I love it, I really do. Its a bit boring at times, but thats because not enough people come down and buy CDs-we have loads of great artists-Ok, total plug, but its on Ealing Broadway and the people are lovely...The best bit was that you chose the music they played in the shop. Today we had some soul compilation, Natalie Imbruglia(I must get that album...), The Best of The Troggs (they did Wild Thing, but they have lots of great songs), then it was, T'Pau(Not my choice), Glastonbury CD thingy, a folk band then The Best Of The Stranglers who I love now-Ooh, ooh and Janis Joplin-oh, she kicks arse and then some...
So, I'm doing another shift on Thursday with some guy who apparentely isn't too sociable, oh well. Things, are sort of looking up. Now, I'm going to read some slash, get my round some things and prepare for the rest of the week.
I had two big teen things today: interview with one of the colleges I might go to (Richmond)and spent two hours there, talking over my options and getting my timetable sorted. The people are so nice, and the course sound so great, but if I can't get there then there's no point...
Anyway, my main concern with college is deciding on my courses. My core three are: English Lit+Lang, History and Politics and now I'm trying to choose between Classical Civilisation, Psychology and Philosophy-I can only choose one or the other, or the other one! Damn 4 AS syllabus...
I was talking to so many teachers, taking in so much information about philosophy and all this future stuff it was giving me a real headache. But we left, with a load of papers, more confident about the future than usual.
So, I went home, slept and had some cornflakes, and went off to my new job. Oh, doesn't that sound great? When I told Mrs Lyons, she was more excited than anyone, said that I'd be more busy and I'd have some structure to my life, which would help this no-cutting business smoother. I'd like to think so too. So why, on Sunday, the night before I got the volunteering job, did I cut myself? Time will tell that I finally snapped. (there's a battle going on in my brain, and I lost that night.) Sigh, the freaky thing is, that I can't feel a fucking thing. The moment after, I felt as if I'd overdosed on painkillers or something-total calm, it was so surreal. Lyons says it means I don't feel as guilty, which is a good thing cos it breaks the cycle....what's done is done. And thats the last time I see Mrs Lyons till September.
Anyway, my job at Oxfam Music shop? I love it, I really do. Its a bit boring at times, but thats because not enough people come down and buy CDs-we have loads of great artists-Ok, total plug, but its on Ealing Broadway and the people are lovely...The best bit was that you chose the music they played in the shop. Today we had some soul compilation, Natalie Imbruglia(I must get that album...), The Best of The Troggs (they did Wild Thing, but they have lots of great songs), then it was, T'Pau(Not my choice), Glastonbury CD thingy, a folk band then The Best Of The Stranglers who I love now-Ooh, ooh and Janis Joplin-oh, she kicks arse and then some...
So, I'm doing another shift on Thursday with some guy who apparentely isn't too sociable, oh well. Things, are sort of looking up. Now, I'm going to read some slash, get my round some things and prepare for the rest of the week.
Sunday, July 04, 2004
Its July Already!
That means I've been living free for a week and two days. I should be bloody pleased, specially after my fab chicken sandwich (paprika butter-ok, on chicken-sesame oil, cumin powder-freshly grounded and black pepper-add cheese= divine!). But I'm bored. I'm officially a hopeful teenager looking for work. Anythig half-assed will do. So far I've applied to be a junior in a hairdressers-I think it'll be quite fun, just washing hair and sweeping up all day, surrounded by people and strangers and an atmosphere-better than an office job any day, so I hope I get it.
Todays boring, lol. Yesterday was a bust. I was supposed to go to my first ever Pride! parade and then go to Childrens Express to flesh out this story I'm doing. It was going to be such a busy day and such a brilliant lie.
Firstly, Dad wouldn't let me out of the house...he said I couldn't go out until I told him the truth, and that would involve a spectacular coming out. My Dad has been annoyingly ambiguous, comparing gays and paedophiles to saying that people who rap 'Burn All the Gays(Chi Chi men)' weren't proper Christians-then again, he'd been loving another 'Burn All the Gays' song but he was ranting about this one because they called themselves Catholics. Even so, any coming out would take time, and I didn't have any, so fuming, I went upstairs and broke the news to poor Alice, who had to go on her own and had a crap time...
Then, I did nothing until Dad drove me down to Childrens Express. That, was a bust too-neither of my partners were there so in the end I had to just read some pages on HIV on the internet and research, which I could have done at home, and yes, I hated that day...every time the news mentioned the Pride festival I felt so annoyed and wistful because I wasn't outraged enough to shout at Dad. Maybe I knew he just wasn't worth it. I even made a poster- it had 'THE UNITED QUEENDOM' and on the bottom it had 'HOMOSEXUALITY: FABULOUS SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME AND ETERNITY'. I had to wake up at 8 in the morning just to get done properly.
Then last night, I had some sort of panic attack. I couldn't breathe and I felt as if I was going out of my skin, it was horrible. so I had to redress the balance, and I'm not proud of what I did, but I felt desperate and I wanted to avoid cutting. I've been without for 1month, and three days and I'm happyish about it, Ria says she's proud of me. That matters-we hanged out on Friday, and she chose some poems to use at the Pink Picnic.
Actually, the funniest thing happened on Friday. Me and Ria were doing her paper round before her mum gets home and kills her, and I was bending over to pick up some papers, when some old lady came up to me. She said 'Oh, hello darling. Just to say you better avoid bending over like that, you see' I thought she was going to then say something about backache but she then said 'you see, when you bend over like, its almost too tempting to (cue spanking motion)." Imagine my shock at a 84 year old woman hitting on me. Ria didn't realise and was worried about the perfect 'O' on my face until I told, and we had to hold our hysterics till she went round the corner. I'm never ever, bending over again, lest I get spanked by some randy old woman.
Todays boring, lol. Yesterday was a bust. I was supposed to go to my first ever Pride! parade and then go to Childrens Express to flesh out this story I'm doing. It was going to be such a busy day and such a brilliant lie.
Firstly, Dad wouldn't let me out of the house...he said I couldn't go out until I told him the truth, and that would involve a spectacular coming out. My Dad has been annoyingly ambiguous, comparing gays and paedophiles to saying that people who rap 'Burn All the Gays(Chi Chi men)' weren't proper Christians-then again, he'd been loving another 'Burn All the Gays' song but he was ranting about this one because they called themselves Catholics. Even so, any coming out would take time, and I didn't have any, so fuming, I went upstairs and broke the news to poor Alice, who had to go on her own and had a crap time...
Then, I did nothing until Dad drove me down to Childrens Express. That, was a bust too-neither of my partners were there so in the end I had to just read some pages on HIV on the internet and research, which I could have done at home, and yes, I hated that day...every time the news mentioned the Pride festival I felt so annoyed and wistful because I wasn't outraged enough to shout at Dad. Maybe I knew he just wasn't worth it. I even made a poster- it had 'THE UNITED QUEENDOM' and on the bottom it had 'HOMOSEXUALITY: FABULOUS SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME AND ETERNITY'. I had to wake up at 8 in the morning just to get done properly.
Then last night, I had some sort of panic attack. I couldn't breathe and I felt as if I was going out of my skin, it was horrible. so I had to redress the balance, and I'm not proud of what I did, but I felt desperate and I wanted to avoid cutting. I've been without for 1month, and three days and I'm happyish about it, Ria says she's proud of me. That matters-we hanged out on Friday, and she chose some poems to use at the Pink Picnic.
Actually, the funniest thing happened on Friday. Me and Ria were doing her paper round before her mum gets home and kills her, and I was bending over to pick up some papers, when some old lady came up to me. She said 'Oh, hello darling. Just to say you better avoid bending over like that, you see' I thought she was going to then say something about backache but she then said 'you see, when you bend over like, its almost too tempting to (cue spanking motion)." Imagine my shock at a 84 year old woman hitting on me. Ria didn't realise and was worried about the perfect 'O' on my face until I told, and we had to hold our hysterics till she went round the corner. I'm never ever, bending over again, lest I get spanked by some randy old woman.
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