I finished my exams a couple of days ago. (Un)fortunately I can't actually remember anything I wrote. For one exam I wrote 21 pages of politically minded rubbish. But never mind, I can now actually sleep until August.
So, of course I haven't been able to think, or philosophize because of my brother's yobbish shouting, or my Dad's nagging over my non-existent homework. I guess right now I'm just trying to figure out my life, what to do with myself. I can't even type right now cos my brother won't shut up, and I have sorts of thoughts in my head that is cramming up and clogging up any chance of doing anything useful like getting a job or figuring out what my life is all about.
During exams I didn't start revising until the night before. Before then it was impossible as I was busy, or the world just got in my fucking way. I know I didn't the A's I could have. I know - Boo Hoo.
All I do now is miss people. All I want to do is slice myself into strips. Why won't my brother shut the fuck up? What makes it worse is this psychological laringitis thing. The truth is I could slip on my wrists and with my dying breath I'd apologise for ruining your shirt. That sort of thing.
Before I couldn't speak about my problems because I was afraid nothing would happen, nothing would change and I'd still feel exactly the same. I haven't done or said anything, but I'm drinking again. Thankfully mostly I'm not alone: on Weds, after fucking up History I went to Liz's house and drank coke and vodka. Yesterdays was my friend's Birthday BBQ - it was also a bit of a Pimms party. But that was middle-class teenager fun. My brother is still here annoying me. For a King's College student studying Electrical Engineer, he's incredibly narrow-minded sometimes. A women's place is in the home, everything is my fault and diaries aren't supposed to have poetry or stories inside them because they aren't talking about themselves. I think he's the most uncreative, unsympathetic guy I know, and thats why I hate him so much sometimes.
Lately I've been going on late-night excursions. I would wait for my Dad to start snoring, then I would sneak downstairs and watch Tv, or eat cornflakes and help myself to my brother's birthday cake. Most of the time I drink Dad's whisky. Now, however, I have to go out and celebrate my birthday with two of my college friends and avoid bursting into tears, expelling my deepest fears, or worse. This sleeping frog in my throat may be destroying me, but at least I can disappear for a while. I just wish feeling as if I matter.
About Me
- Serialangel
- London/Manchester, England, United Kingdom
- I AM 18 I am black, atheist, depressed and erm, lesbianic with an inherent fear of boredom. I can do anything, right? I know that I'm smart, funny, "pretty", a calming influence. Yet I'm full of so many fuck-ups its hard to believe that sometimes. I'm a true bibliophile, :) My feelings on the future changes every day - fear, w00tness, confusion, blank Sometimes I'm in recovery, sometimes I'm actively trying to destroy myself and no one can stop me... My life is just one long story, like everyone else's. I live with my Dad and my brother, but I'm rainy strange old Manchester where, just maybe, my real life will begin. Oh, and I'm gifted. Apparently. I don't know. That doesn't sit well with me. Read this blog and find out why.
3 comments:
from one tomented, self-destructive black girl to another... I used to be the American version of you. Funny reading you blog makes me go back to that place where I didn't really have feelings yet, the pain seemed incessant. But just so you know... things get better. Life falls into place. If you're anything like me... you'll always be crazy... you just get better at hiding it. And one day it seems to fade into a part of your past. And for the record, all journals should have poetry, and pictures, and song lyrics and whatever else you need or want to remember how you feel and what you are thinking at the moment... your brother may be smart but he's an idiot. If you ever need to talk... holla at me!
I agree with bri about the pain seeming to never go away, I can remember sneaking off to get drunk or high off of whatever I could find. One night I drank cough syrup and almost got into a fight with some girl at roller skating (this was in the 80's, we were insane back then, as evidenced by leg warmers and big hair) for looking at me wrong. After this excitement, I ended up throwing up and trying to keep why this was happening from my mom.
And your brother is an idiot. It's your journal, not his. If he doesn't think that it should have poems or pictures, then maybe he should get his own. And why does he care so much?
To bri - thanks girl. It's always nice to know I ain't alone. There's too many black people i know who don't seem to think, I swear. Whats happened to my generation??? I'd like to think my life is gonna change, so you can appreciate if I feel its just stretching out forever.
And about my brother - yeah, he's stupid. Thankfully he doesn't know about my blog otherwise he'd never stop his whiny wrath. It was this livejournal of a slash fanfiction writer, who was giving links to some of his work (which is brilliant and I must link you sometime). Anyways, it was also because it was called "One time, at band camp..."(he's also a army member/volunteer) and it wasn't about band camp. Thats what really got my brother. Like I said, he just doesn't think outside of ANY box. Sigh. But I digress!
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