End of Days

Depression’s back.

Damn.

I mean I guess I can’t complain too much. I’ve been some sort of happy for about three weeks. For me, that’s monumental, and I have had such great times and I could laugh and be a bit free but I knew that well, really it can’t last. It never lasts. When it came back last night I wasn’t surprised that it came back, hell I was wondering where the hell it went. It was just the way it came-it didn’t come at all! It was just there, as if it never left, and it fitted like a glove, and I got all my tools of deception back and I could lie effectively, I got my cloak to cover my eyes…I did try to cut last night but I left it too long and I choked, which felt a bit embarrassing. Recoveryourlife.com has gone down for some reason so the only thing I can do right now is hope I cut and get it over and done with. I really don’t want to wrestle with my salesmen. I just want to give up. I can’t do it. Not today.

Here's the link

http://wondrous-inevitable.blogspot.com - here's the link for my nanowimo blog experience. Don't expect this to go very very well...

The Scissor Sisters are great, but they're a lisp's worst nightmare

Still feeling pretty perky, but thats because I'm not thinking much, which in turn makes me more catty, and I realise nasty people really are happier, but I have no real idea as such except for the total insensitivity issue. I wasn't brought up among many girls so I haven't the bitchy factor which perfects female intuition instilled in me. But I'm making up for it by hanging with my increasingly widening gay crowd and having so much fun...

Been to two different gay groups, found out the really opinionated guy in Politics is gay and we get on great, managed to convince people gay marriage should be legalised, lost weight, eating out was great and I have half term next week. Ooh, and I hanged out with Ash("ton") in Twickenham, c'etait tres amusant. No wonder I'm feeling giddy with normality (not undulated happiness, it just doesn't happen).

But I have been a little bored, you see. I'm desperate to go out to a gay bar like everyone else does. Yes, I know I should be happy with myself and all that but it just doesn't work like that. I would also, like to make my life matter in some way shape or form, as I have tried to do recently, and I'm not going to stop. I will swim like a shark: be fucking relentless, for I do want to live and if I stop anyways I'll sink and no one could help me then, could they? Anyhoo, I've signed up for the Nanowrimo. Yep. Basically November is national novel writing month and there's this event where writers try to write an entire novel (50,000 words people) in one month. I'm gonna do it. Hell, I'm at least gonna try, I have to-thats my attitude. When I get everything set up, you'll get a link to my new blog specifically for this. Its imperative I get some reviews because it'll be so rough it might make you cry, but of course when this is done I'll get it edited and republished and you'll swoon at the difference and the fact you would have blogged along on this journey with me...

Watch this space!

Take your time

Food poisoning from Mcdonalds followed by a virus followed by a horrid essay have almost taken all my energy...but I've been bitten by the poetry bug. I'm going to have to ride on that for a while.
I'm not too sure what to say. I'm getting used to the idea even if it might be Slough (it'd make a great comedy sketch). And I've seen this comp for a Poetry Idol and even though I think my poetry is good enough, I've never read out stuff in public before and I don't know if I would fuck it up or not...no, what I would love to do is see my old friends again, especially Ria, Patrick and Smita who I haven't seen for almost a month. Halloween soon! This time I'm going to celebrate it properly. Hell, I might even over-do it, its about time I've celebrated life-I haven't this year and its been bloody miserable.
Today, I was at the computer, and I watched the rainbow fade with the rain. There was such a heavy downpour, and the sun was enough to spread a rainbow and spread from one edge of my sky to the other. And then, like a watercolour painting, it simply disappeared again, edging away, the sudden burst of colour breaking down into grey. It was depressing beautiful, like a death that has been a long time coming.
The small problem I have now is that I've been giddy and way too honest about it. I tend to have a depressed happening after this, so watch out...hehe I sound like a murkblob (depress-ed being)

Star Guitar

I have loads of homework, emails to write, people to respond to, stories to read. But I can barely stand up, let alone write an essay. I'm exhausted.

Woke up at 8am with every intention to make today count. I kinda did-had one of those when you feel that someone you thought you were getting on with hates your guts even they aren't being shitty to you..which made me uneasy, but I didn't have time to dwell on it, because I'm starting my CSPA (community sports leader award)-I'm going to learn about sports and how to coach. This means doing the bloody sport itself. And since I was by far the most unfit in the class I was all out of breath and annoyed with myself. I'll get better-I'll have to if I don't want to keep
embarrassing myself...

At the end of that, I luckily had a 15 minute break before my first partners' scheme thing, and by now I was nearly having tremors cause of my low sugar level-my yoghurt fixed that. Then I went to partners' scheme, determined not to feel sorry for the learning disabled children like my friend did. It was an art class and it was fun. I had to work with this girl called Kim who kept dribbling but she had a great sense of humour and made a great monsters mask for their trick-or-treat thing. I rather liked them-they were really nice and friendly and sensitive. So that was cool. Then I sneaked a 10 minute break (had a cookie) then double classics where I really did try to concentrate but I ended up thinking about Disney stuff (I was talking about it with some of my Classics friends during break); now then I got a crappy 6 outta 10 in my first mini essay about what Greek/Romans have done for us. Compared to my 42/50 mark in my English story h/work, its pretty dismal. I'm gonna have to work my butt off there.

Then I met some people from CSLA at the train station and we got chatting, and it turns out she lives right by me in a really nice estate in Wembely. We might even go to the Freshers' Ball, though I'm not sure because I'll be stumbling out with at 2am in Brixton, but they say its fine and they;ve never had hassle-gotta get my Dad's permission first though.

Had to walk from Wembely station, made dinner, read emails (not able to make response to comments and emails because my brain won't do you justice. I'm certainly not a genius-I'm a potential genius who hasn't proved herself yet because I didn't get 8 A/A*s in my GCSEs, though I did get a level 8 in English in year 9, which gets me in the top 1% of the country-in that year. I've probably fucked it all up now!). Collapsed in extreme tiredness, I'm about to leave y'all cos I gotta at least start my questions or thats not commitment. *blows tired raspberry...but I am happy for getting through today, especially Partner's Scheme. I really enjoyed myself, but I might get another time because I'm not really doing much...can't stop working me...I'm only Sunday's Child...
But I'm too tired to be depressed because adrenalin is the only keeping me from keeling over...and they aren't depressants, so consider myself satisfied for today...

(Oh, and all you British people: SPOOKS! Its british spy series show thriller--thing which rules and has the best cliffhanger(the mother of all stitch ups on the characters-not the audience) the main character shot his boss and is supposed to be dead. If anyone watched it, cast your mind back, the lady in there was the one in Tipping the Velvet..yes, her-wasn't she hot!? She's in the show. Watch it-BBC1, 9pm...)

Now Playing: Like A Prayer

Hey, the song is inspiring..cannae spell.

I feel like flying, the way I do in my dreams so rarely. Just jump out the window and float, like an autumn leaf. Its my favourite season when its warmer. All the wind swirling around the leaves tickling me. Kicking them around, comparing conkers at class, arguing you can eat the nuts inside, wearing gorgeous reds and purples and browns. Looking good and no one is wearing short sleeves. (we're at the burning crosses bit, now...) I'm writing slowly, because I feel like being leisurely. Feeling lonley and knowing I have to work, resting up for the week ahead, seeing my friends, and hopefully Ria after nearly a month. You have no idea how much I miss her, she's like my little sister, my true confidante, and I bet she looks gorgeous...songs ended.

New Song! (American Pie, Madonna)

...And maybe they'd be happy, for a while...

Dream on, Betty.

In the last year or so, I've been stripped of all my beliefs that I had as a child. So I'm figuring here, I'm properly growing up, aren't I? Late nights out and seeing live bands (which I've been wanting to do for years now, but too nervous to) beckons? Who knows? But I do know I'm getting out more, dreaming less, doing more. Definitely. But its not as if I'm getting better, and so instead of wondering how close to the edge I am, how much I hate my doctor, how crap at work I am, and how many miles of scars will I have to travel till I feel at home, feel happy. I'm going to forget about that, and start working.

Song ends...

New Song!

Die another Day (Madonna, yep, its a theme, sorta)

...I'm going to close my body now....

Reminds of old times. This is how I coped. I completely shut down-I ripped out my soul, and made plans to be great. finding ways to avoid death, cos Lioness is right, people under 20 really shouldn't kill themselves, yes? My life is all about finding your way out, though it isn't a matter of life and death, its certainly a fear of that situation.

That song has finished too. The lyrics:


I'm gonna wake up, yes and no
I'm gonna kiss some part of
I'm gonna keep this secret
I'm gonna close my body now
I guess, I'll die another day x5
[Another day]

I guess I'll die another day
[Another day]
I guess I'll die another day
[Another day]
I guess I'll die another day
(Spoken:)Sigmund Freud
Analyze this
Analyze this
Analyze this

I'm gonna break the cycle
I'm gonna shake up the system
I'm gonna destroy my ego
I'm gonna close my body now
Uh, uh
I think I'll find another way
There's so much more to know
I guess I'll die another day
It's not my time to go
For every sin, I'll have to pay
I've come to work, I've come to play
I think I'll find another way
It's not my time to go

I'm gonna avoid the cliché
I'm gonna suspend my senses
I'm gonna delay my pleasure
I'm gonna close my body now
I guess, die another day
I guess I'll die another day
I guess, die another day
I guess I'll die another day
I think I'll find another way
There's so much more to know


I remember kept me so strong, reminded me of my inner, invincible strength(don't laugh, its true!) and so I used to be able to stray from the scissors. It used to be so easy to do that. Now it just doesn't work anymore, and if I can't rely on myself to be strong, how can you expect me to harbour hope that I'm going to get out this intact, alive in any/every sense of the word? How could I place that on myself when I don't know if I can do anything remarkable? Life saving?

Now Playing:The Scientist

Now, edited....

(Idea strikes, first lines of Coldplay, the Scientist)
This post, is going to last as long as this song. No proper chekcing of spelling and punctuation just yet. Just writing.
Thinking about terrorism. Is it wrong for me to want to not care anymore? Its too painful and complicated and scary and I'm still 16 and people half my age are dying for a cause no one seems to want to tell me anything about. I'm so stupid... I was just guessing(at numbers and figures), basing everything on some of kind of sense and principle. (we're now in the middle of the second verse, people)
I used to believe what my dad thought, but now I know he'd just rather kill Bush and dust off his hands in 'achievement'. He just hates the world, and I'm not there yet, because I hate myself enough, thanks very much. Why is everything so hard, so fucking varied, so underhand, off course? Who the hell is normal these days, anyway? Who ever was? Was it just books and theorists and the media playing one big trick? (end is nigh of song)
I just don't know. So confused. So sad for Ken Bigley even though he's only one man and millions die of ignorance and passion. And this happens every day under our clean noses.
The song has finished.

Important Info

Its about salesmen. What they do. This isn't what counsellors ask, because I don't think they can understand how someone so 'pretty' and not disfigured is soo unfine.

I have weird habits which I'm pretty sure are out of my control. Its a measure of how fucked up I am, and how my salesmen work.

(cold mist rising, an unearthly cackle...) I see dead people.

In daydreams, waking nightmares, drifting soap operas. They don't stop. Everybody I care about dies. They are killed, before their time, before I could really appreciate them. They die either by car crash, or some stranger shoots them or they're stabbed or drown. Unusual deaths. And I'm the one who has to organize their funeral. And despite me knowing what happens, I'm constantly mourning, and of course I can't mention this because whenever people talk about dreams they're fun kooky mad things, whereas mine are about losing everyone I love, becoming truly alone. So of course this builds up. I have to cut, I have to cope. This is how I'm still cheery and confident, the scars keep me on the straight and narrow. If I'm forced somehow not to cut, I'll find some other to hurt myself. Or 'crazy shit' will happen. So don't expect to go cold turkey. It isn't a drug, its almost like a religion a way of life I'm fanatical about.

*****

I've been thinking about things that make me mad. I can't stand people who are insecure about their knowledge. Like in the presentations we do, they say things like: "Well, Thetis is Achilleus' mother, right?" or "I think this line is really expressive...yeah?" as if their emotions have to correlate with a sheet of answers on the back.

You can be arrogant.

You can be rude.

You could do things out of spite because you think it teaches people a lesson.

You could patronize people and believe its helping somebody.

But don't you DARE, ever, EVER, burn books.

Its education! Its truth in several forms! Its paranoia, and all the other annoying things above mixed together in a danger pastime! Its barbaric! I'd never burn Mein Kampf, because we have to remember some people believe that Jews are destroying the world and we should just kill them all, so why would you burn Harry Potter? Why can't people leave Philip Pullman alone? They're only the victims of great writing and unsecret thoughts and ideas. It's just wrong, people. Hehe.

I just wanted to end this double post on some level near to normal...

Stop It

After reading Lionness' blog entry about terrrorism, I felt like being angry. I don't think I'm angry nearly enough, and I don't say it well enough. I'm way too scared to do that.

But the last two days I feel like a package labelled 'UNSTABLE PSYCHO-PATRONIZE CAREFULLY'. I've seen a doctor, a counsellor, a nurse and now some other person. I'm a freak. How on earth am I going to move on when they believe its something I could just snap out of?

Why didn't they tell me this when I was 12, and I had a bottle of paracetemol in my hands, and I was serious. What the hell stopped me? I had almost lost Maria, I was losing everything and nobody had a clue. It'd make the headlines, but I didn't do it because it hurt too much. I couldnt bear the idea of death, of drowning, my voice came out, told me what to do and I was reborn. It had nothing to do with what I looked like.

They say my case is 'very worrisome'. I know that, so why are you asking about my family, about college how everything is so new, how exams must tire me out, how do you handle the pressure. You are so brave, seeing us like this, being so honest, but I must say you seem a little to happy to be depressed. Too confident, too coherent. Are you sure its not a phase you're going through? Maybe you need to lose weight. Get a grip. Take some drugs. In six months, you'll be happy (again). Tut tut, you've been cutting yourself again, haven't you? This is silly. You're too 'precious' for this.

Admit it. I'm a bloody drop in the ocean.

Goodness, why didn't I hear about this sooner? I mightn't had to cut my arms, I could swim again. I could sing words about being 'cut up' without wincing. I wouldn't have to be so afraid of losing everything, because I shouldn't be depressed, yet I'm way too sad to see clearly. Think wisely. Listen properly. I wouldn't be so scared to be loved.

Can you expect me to fall at your feet, cry my heart and suddenly make sense? Must I tell you Why....despite the good grades, good friends, good future, good family, good living, great music, great books, in this sea of greatness and good stuff I'm drifting further away from ever being happy again. Why? Because two days ago I was so low I cried to my friend, slid down to the floor and realised the wrenching inside my gut will never go away. That this will end in some way. That I'm just terrified because I'm not sure how its going to end and I'm scared of telling the people who are supposed to help because they might take away more of my liberties. They might shove me under the mental health act, into a loony bin for a month so I could forget who I am and become so...much...better.

There are tears in my eyes and I don't know who I'm shouting at, but I think I can face my salesmen now.

Phone Call

I've just had a very strange phone call.

I was watching BBC2 and this show called the Apprentice which was making me laugh-its great entertainment. I had lost weight-I had had loads of chocolate, I got appreciated for my poetry and I'm going to The House of Commons tomorrow (UK version of the White House, just in case-I'm not being patronising) . To top it off I watching rain on the bus-there is nothing more beautiful about travel than rain-it makes the greatest sound, it reminds you're going somewhere. The double rainbow was giving me focus-you could see the whole semi-circle which you never do... Life was being cool.

Then I got the phone call.

It was from a doctor, who used to treat my Granddad who has really bad arthritis (he can't walk anymore because of it) and it turns out he also got the message that I was 'feeling down'. He was just talking about his whole process-about some letter he recieved from I don't know where, and that he probably knows about the overdose which I've gotten over on-it happened, it was shit, its over. Anyways, I have an appointment with him on Friday at 6. I'm seeing my counsellor on Thursday, as well as the nurse so she can check on my scars and I'm going to show her my feet (more later).

I'm getting over subscribed here-its scary. He was saying he can fix it scientifically-with tablets!-and thats he's not going to tell my family, and I'm on the other line almost shaking, I'm horrified here. Everyone is helping me. Depression is my way of life, and everyone is trying to cheer me up. Its twisted, but you have to understand this has been an extending, more extreme addition of my life for four years now. I'm bloody terrified. If I end up telling my parents and going onto pills, you may shoot me-I'll give the assigned address and everything...

Oh yes, my feet. See, its been my method of not cutting without really hurting myself. I'd start scratching them. It was first athlete's foot. Then it became a nervous habit. Now its an obsession. I keep scratching my (left) foot till it bleeds, it looks like it been diseased or something. I have single handedly fucked up my foot, but I would like to find a way to fix it, and so I'm taking it up with the nurse.

So, the best thing for me is to take it all in my stride, because this is how I do things. I'm a spontaneous super power. My best pieces of work, poetry, things I've bought have been a result of reworded phrases of 'What the hell?'. So I'm reading slash, thinking about homework, and saving up cash.

Whirlwind

I'm at college with nothing to do for the next...ten minutes so I thought I'd post something. In response to CarpeDM, they dont do anything cos I don't give them a chance to figure anything out. I'm not close enough to mum, and I only see Dad about 2 hours a day, tops. And during then I'm a little perky, so I appear to be the same goofy, crazy happy lovely daughter I was supposed to grow up into. Also, the bandages are hidden over my long sleeve-its just a backup ploy or something to do on extremely hot days-which are completely non-existent (including this summer..sigh.)

I'm quite excited because I just took out the Odyssey from the library. I'm excited because its an ancient text that is interesting and coherent. Not the Iliad isn't interesting but the (epithets-sp?) descriptions of every character everytime they speak is slightly unnerving. I mean there's swift footed, and godlike and this is when they're arguing with each other! Goodness...at least you understand the kind of epic Tolkien was aiming for when he wrote LOTR.

Anyway, i'm off to double politics, a dyslexia meeting thang, signing up for the ~Community Sport Leaders Award 'lunch', double classics and I'm sure I missed something else here...just the way my life is...but hey, its all in the plan of getting my life back, and if I end up doing too many things, so be it.

Why I love Blogger

I had a problem with the site, and try as I might I just couldn't sign in.
I realised with a blush, that I have must
Forgotten a password and given a wrong address
-Such a mess!
I sent an email to blogger
And imagined I'd be a waiting
For a millenia and a day to fix my conundrum
But no! No! No!
It took 6 days...
What can hotmail say about that?
Howzat!

Blogger, Serialangel aka Betty B, salutes you.

I am not a housewife.

At college, my favourite subject so far has been 19th Century History, especially 19th Century Women, which is our coursework piece and so I feel very assured it will be epic...
It's just that life is so different its almost scary. At the beginning of the 1800's, some men believed women didn't have a soul...you could (illegally) sell your wife, beat her with a stick as long as it wasn't thicker than your thumb. Husbands owned their wives, as a quote once said: "My wife and I are one, and I am he."Classic.

Anyway, it's stirred up my feminist fire again. I was feminist to the point of sexist towards guys, then I got some sense back. I'm making all sorts of Richmond now. There's this girl called Alice in there with perfect red hair and cheekbones I'm secretly in love with, a Brazilian guy named Ickarus who has the title of 'Coolest guy in RUTC', Clare my Clare Bosworth lookalike fabbygirl and Richard who I've really clicked with. I'm making progress there, definitely.

For one thing I'm helping myself. I went to my first counselling session yesterday. The lady was nice and we just outlined stuff. She said things I was thinking she would say: that I was at risk, and that I should see a GP for treatment for the depression, and that I had strange contrasts in my life: my (relatively) healthy diet, good grades, settling in well thing yet I got the cutting. She even suggested a residential thing, which obviously can't happen for my parents not to know. But it was nice to get started again.

Then I had to see the nurse, because NHS direct called her about my overdose and she's been looking for me since. Turns out she was born in my home town too so I liked her immediately...she put some cream on my arm where the scars are because it was dry, and then put some bandage thing on (the sort of thing you put on sprained muscles) to help them heal cause I had cut for three nights in a row and it kept creating friction against my shirt and it was driving me mad. It also gives me license to wear it on hot days and say I bumped my arm. A genius move, as I'm going to this Greece trip in March(hopefully). I'm seeing her again. I'm going shopping tomorrow, going to Childrens Express, Parliament trip next week, poetry open mic night coming up...loads of homework (bah!)....I think I'm getting my life back.