Nov. 3rd, 2013 | 09:42 pm
Lately I've been struggling over everything, last night I nearly lost all my shit and spilt everything to someone who asked me if I was okay with a bit of genuine concern. And I can hardly go off on an existential crisis rant because 1)its not expected and 2) it was mum, and mum likes to think or pretend or blatantly has no idea what a shoddy mental state I am in. I don't even know what she thinks, or wants to think or likes to think. I don't even know what I think anymore so I certainly haven't a clue on the thoughts of others.
My personality's warped, which I'd like to pin on growing up, but there's no positive end to this change and I'd like to think if I truly had the power to change myself I'd do it for the better, right?
Someone pointed it out last night, I guess it was a fairly innocent comment, 'you're not as flirty as you used to be'. He's not wrong but I don't know why. Well I do, and I don't all at the same time. My best guess is I've decided to not flirt due to the whole no sex for a year thing we have going on. Which would make sense. It could also be the death of my sex drive, showing through. I'm tempted to make it a memorial in the garden, next to the preserved fish. Maybe if I made it a real tangible thing it'd be easier to kick it back into focus, but I don't know what sex drive eats, I think its hungry and sulking somewhere. I don't think it likes jaffa cakes. Which is fine anyway because I don't have any in this vicinity either and the people at the shop would think me strange buying jaffa cakes for my sex drive. Not like they can particularly see it but I'd feel they could. Well fuck them they look at me anyway. If my hypothetically dead sex drive wants jaffa cakes I should be able to go buy these without people staring in such a fashion. But I don't know if it does, we may never know how my sex drive feels about jaffa cakes.
It'd be silly if I ate a jaffa cake and got ridiculously turned on. I think its something silly it wants though. If I know it like I think I do.
I guess I hit a fairly poignant point up there on the issue that this issue of not going out in public is becoming more of an issue. When I'm walking around I feel like people can see everything. Everything I'm thinking and how unwell I am and I think they're judging me and I'm not even feeling sane enough to understand whether this is ridiculous paranoia shit or a well aimed accurate thought.
I like to think of myself as sort of an ocean, which sounds silly because I'm a human fucking being. But I am trying to explain. Maybe I phrased it wrong. I like to think I share similarities with an ocean in which there are mere ripples and scuds on the surface but underneath there's this kraken I'm fighting with. And I used to be a fucking seamonster too and go all out to war with the fucker but lately I've sort of shrunk to this little man, who just wanted a paddle and ended up being attacked by this kraken and the shit just hit the fan too quick and he's just lost his snorkel and he's about to drown because it's going to eat him the fuck alive. Which I guess wouldn't really be drowning, it'd be death by eating which raises the awkward question of where kraken mouths are.
I guess what I'm trying to say it I like to think I don't let my battle with mental health show so much, but lately I feel I'm losing and the cracks in my brain are showingy. Like sort of kraken tentacles coming out of this sea of normalicy. And in this imagery I can't decide whether I'm the man, or the sea or the kraken. I think it changes from day to day. Today I'm feeling the little man, part the sea in his lungs and very drunk indeed. I feel my brain is coming out of my ears. I'm feeling better for writing this I feel it accurate and requires thought from any potential readers.
I've been struggling to be honest recently, because I don't know how to word things off the top of my head fast enough. And I don't want them to think I'm stupid. I've been finding myself giving answers that sound correct and fitting and things they want to hear. And I don't know whether I should be doing that or being honest, and I can't decide where and which situations which would be best. And surely that in itself is not honest, because I should say what I think? But I think in layers, so whereas my answer is there I'm also thinking I shouldn't give it because the social convention's not there. I don't know I'm not very good at speaking or people. Which is fine because I don't have a lot of those lying around.
I'm incredibly lonely I think, and I want someone to talk to and give me the answers but I feel these questions are stupid and they'd get bored or they wouldn't understand or I wouldn't be able to say it or they'd lose interest because I'm ugly and stupid. And I probably wouldn't have any confidence to bring a conversation like that up because people make me nervous, and so anxious and sickly that I have to stay quiet and safe and I'm always insanely happy when they tell me all about themselves so I don't have to speak and make wrong impressions and say wrong things and upset people.
I don't like writing about myself for long periods of time, I feel it's self involved and very sort of cry for helpy, give me attention wah wah fucking wah due to the entire stigma attached to mental health. Which wouldn't be so bad if so many people didn't put it on or use it as an excuse for being shit.
I'll write about other people for a bit, I've been drunkenly bumping into some fun cards of people it would seem. There's these players I vaguely know through my friend fucking one of them. They're silly and make me laugh, they have this strange social set up. On the face of it they're four lads with a flat and they like sex which makes sense. But it isn't as clear cut as this. They fuck each others bitches, which annoys them. And I see them go from spitting anger to 'oh bro that's cool too' in like a second. I don't think I'm in any danger with them they told me I was unattractive and not to touch them, which was nasty on the face of it but they don't see me as game which means I get to see more closely their social behaviour which is currently far more interesting than sex due to my lack of jaffa cakes. One of them's spent three weeks away from home because he fucked his house mates ex. So I prodded him a bit to send a silly text to his current bird, assuming this pissed off housemate would have fucked his current bird, which he had. He was over the moon because he can go back home. Which was nice to see. They see girls in such a derogatory way, and I don't know how much I should blame them for that. Because they are bad but some of these bitches are worse and if they're going to allow themselves to be treated like this then how are they meant to respect that? Which set me off wondering about the relationships boys have with girls and vice versa and how that works and how much should be allowed and how much was wrong. I like to think about social structures because I don't know how to actually 'be' most of the time so I think if I look at it I might find out.
I like to see players play around, they're always so happy and impulsive and energetic and not bothered and agressive which is why they remind me so much of dogs, but you know there's something wrong going off player issues they haven't got over. Pretty faces with fucked up brains I can relate to silly brains. And I want to fix them and make them feel better but I don't know how, and I put a downer on things by being unhappy myself all the time and awkward and strange and I know I'm not enough for them so I just resort to buying them food and feeding them and being as nice as possible and hoping it cheers them up a bit.
I'll have to be better, and more positive and do better things and try to think more in a straight line and get less confused like today and maybe I'd get better and not worse and get less lonely. And try not to get so annoyed at people for being disappointing and shit and trying not as hard as me.
Met another person who pissed me off. He said he smoked because he'd got anger issues, and they go off about it like they're to only fucking one and it makes them so fucking special and they use it as an excuse. And it winds me up. So I shouted at him. And I probably shouldn't have because you know, he has anger issues. But I did anyway.
I understand all of this writing is long and only interesting to me, for use as reference and a general consensus on how my mental health is.
I'd like to think I'm fed up and overtired. And everything will be fine tomorrow.
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Apr. 26th, 2013 | 08:57 pm
I took a PHQ-9 yesterday, a questionnaire that roughly estimates how severe the individual's depression is.
None of the questions even really hit the spot though. My result was moderate/severe depression but before I saw these as symptoms of a condition I was fighting everyday. This time around they barely skimmed the surface. They said nothing about this constant sick feelingI have in stomach or this hatred I have for the fellow human, perhaps the strongest feeling I have is this relucatnce to go out in daylight to see and be seen by them. I've never had it before where people make me feel so physically sick.
I don't miss sex at all because I find peple so repulsive that I'd rather be left by myself.
I don't want to go back on medication but I feel I have to. i have a hard year ahead of me and there's no way I can get this done without the medication. I hope it doesn't ruin my kidneys like it did before.
I'm struggling to concentrate and focus on anything.
I just want to smash things.
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Feb. 11th, 2013 | 12:27 am
I’ll start very frankly: to my knowledge my company is trying their best to get rid of me. They have put me down the disciplinary route without my knowledge and I’m in some serious trouble. If they don’t find a vacancy internally they will have to discard me.
The thing that bothers me with this is the fact that all the paperwork they have to back this theory up has so many holes and discrepancies in it that I really am struggling to see how it can be legal and above board. I am currently planning a visit to Citizen’s Advice this week and am going to take all my paperwork along with me in order to make sure I’m fully clued up on the law and where I stand in regards to it. I shall then sit in that office in four weeks time, see what they’ve come up with, then lay down the law, so to speak, and I’m very good at doing that while pissing them all off.
The most hilarious thing about this entire thing struck me at two am, in which Mr. Erkinshaw woke me up in rather a tizz and requested I take another look at my copy of my contract as it is dated after the first disciplinary. He was indeed right, and I brought this issue up in my next meeting. I felt I wouldn’t need my copy of the contract with me as they should also have a copy of it… and that copy should be the same, right? However the plot thickens as you may have analysed, their copy (which they were very patronizing about pointing out) has a date on it that is a good five months before the counselling. At first my stomach sank and I thought, ‘bloody hell, don’t tell me I forgot to read the year on my copy properly’ but then I remembered that Mr. Erkinshaw doesn’t take waking me up at stupid o clock very lightly. He’d been thinking about it quietly in the back of my mind for a good few days. I went back to my copy, it is different. As far as I’m concerned it now appears to me that my company has committed a fraudulent act, fabricated the truth, lied. And it also makes me think the letter I handed in for my contract change hasn’t gone missing by accident, as this is too I believe dated after their fraudulent copy of my contract, so they’d have to get rid of it to cover their tracks.
I’m writing on here because it’s my most anonymous account, only members of my nearest and dearest both past and present really know of it. I’m writing on here because my company has taken to snooping at their employees social account, and anything that is written regarding a place of work they take to heart and give a disciplinary on. Which amounts to 6 months on probation, as I recently found out. Status updates like ‘can’t be arsed to go to work’ will earn a disciplinary if found. Even comments made on such things will trigger disciplinary action. And this upsets me. I know there is foul play in all places of work, and I know that life is unfair. What upsets me is the fact people just sit down and take it because they rely on their jobs to look after the things they care about, their home, their pets.
I upsets me that work has taken on a Big Brother style approach and has made it crystal clear it will act upon the things seen. It upsets me that we are no longer free to speak of our work lives digitally, a form of communication makes up the majority, I think this is disgusting. That such corporations can have the power to bend the laws and take these things from us. I guess it sounds a bit silly to some people that I am writing these things and taking them so seriously. But if Big Brother is watching and acting upon things such as status updates then what on earth is it going to be tomorrow? A dismissal for speaking the truth, for saying what’s on your mind? It then also throws into question who your friends are… who’s betraying you and telling the people upstairs what you did?
I heard today on my shift that a manager had been approach by a temporary member of staff who’d not been kept on. The ex employee wanted the manager to put in a good word for him about his application to which the manager turned around and said ‘sure, as long as you fold up those two tables for me’ he actually got him to work on the shop floor for nothing more than a good word. These are desperate times indeed and I don’t damn the guy for trying to make a good impression for a job, but for a member of management to turn around and take advantage of that and the ex employee’s situation… it makes my stomach turn. It makes me think very seriously again about contributing to a society that advocates this.
Today I also caved and bought myself a bunny toy. I didn’t think much of it until I realized it was a rabbit and I was connecting with it on a strange level, there must be some sort of psychological theory about this sort of replacement habit I have whenever I suffer a loss I always buy something that will remind me of them, like a token. I also feel I rely on material goods a lot more during times of such lows, which isn’t really what I’m about at all.
To end on a positive note though, this next year I’m having as a personal year. I want to drive my little brum brum to rallies and demonstrations because I want to be counted for the things I believe in and I want to be a part of it and feel I’ve tried to make a difference. I want to fucking sit there and let my opinion be known, and raise my fucking voice and yell it from the rooftops, because sometimes I don’t want to be quiet and secretive, sometimes I want to fucking shout, especially when they seem to think they can take that away from me. I was born with a voice, I intend to make it heard, however dangerous that might be.
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Jan. 22nd, 2013 | 09:58 pm
I think about him all the time, and I try to ignore it. Today I missed his skin and how excitable he gets when his stomach gets rubbed.
I still haven't caved and texted him. I don't think I will. He wouldn't care if I did anyway. He didn't care about me very much at all. If he gave a shit at all that is.
This morning I missed his company and snuggling him. This afternoon I missed playing with his tattoos while he slept. This evening I missed his stomach. Mostly though I miss his laugh. Strangely. I'm going through a lot of strange thoughts recently.
Whenever I feel bad and want to text him. I remember how mad he got about me being upset. So then I can't text him because I know it'll annoy him.
I'll pretend everything is fine. I always do.
I wouldn't know what to do even if I won him back. The thought of sex with anyone makes me feel sick, which makes me think I'm not mentally feeling well enough to be around anybody anyway. He'll have had sex with someone else by now, someone much nicer and prettier than me. Which would make me feel stupider and uglier than usual.
I like it best in my room. I know he can't find me here.
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Jan. 11th, 2013 | 08:43 pm
Whatever I had with rabbit is in tatters. I don't know, he might text me next month and pretend we're fine. He never speaks to me anymore. I don't know what went wrong or where it went wrong so I guess there's no news there. I'm not even going to fight for it because what's the point? I just made an ass of myself the last time I tried for someone. A psycho ass of myself. And that's the last thing I want. So I'm sorta sat here lying to myself constantly telling myself I'm not that bothered about it but I am. I'm fucking gutted. He made me so happy, and when I spend such a lot of time fucking miserable I sort of value that.
He's got himself another girl, someone much fancier and more than likely more womanlike and probably a lot better in bed. Good for him I guess, I told him I wanted him to tell me if this happened but he left me to find it out all by myself.
I told myself that if I went out and got laid I'd feel loads better about the whole thing, give me a chance to forget and remind me there's loads of other people. It was such a fucking mistake it cost me £25, he was awful and I feel fucking disgusting for doing it.
So I've put myself well and truly off of sex now.
I'm so unbothered by everything it scares me. I was trying my best to eat earlier and just looking at the food was giving my stomach worms. All I ever want to do now is sit in my room with the lights off and watch cartoons, pretend nothing's happened and I'm not here. I hate the light now too. I hate midday, I feel so exposed and like everyone can see me. I'm so used to pottering about in the dark.
My social anxiety has got to the point where when I'm stood at the bus stop thinking about getting to college I start feeling deathly sick, like I'm going to pass out or throw my guts up.
I can't speak anymore, I can't write anymore, I can't feel anymore.
I feel so fucking thick.
I'm failing college so bad, I'm so behind on all my work, I'm going to get nothing for this year. I don't know what I want to do next year at all.
I just I want to move out get a car and a dog. I don't want anything else. I want to be left alone to feel filthy and disgusting and take comfort in the fact no one can see me.
Build myself up and knock myself down in circles until I don't have the energy to draw breath.
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Oct. 10th, 2012 | 06:58 pm
I understand that this is my way of dealing with a less than perfect world but it’s flown way out of control. It’s all I ever do now. Just sleep. Feel shit and sleep.
The other day I seriously didn’t have the energy to draw breath properly. It felt like my lungs had just eating a massive greasy hamburger and they couldn’t get over it. I was wheezing my way down town.
It’s awful, I feel I’m drowning all the time. I don’t feel strong enough at all to do anything. Its nothing new this issue but I guess its been highlighted by my new class. Who are full of energy and do so many different things it makes my head whirl. There’s this one kid in my class that likes to get involved in everything he’s so serious about it. And they play and burn energy like its nothing to them, it comes naturally meanwhile I have to sit and plan my actions and ask myself seriously if I have enough energy left to do the things I need to do.
I thought perhaps I needed to sit and seriously pick at myself until I had a mental breakdown like I used to. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow feeling reborn. But I don’t even feel I have the energy for that. I don’t see any good that can come out of knocking everything down that I’ve worked for.
I don’t understand at all where this lethargy comes from. I know it’s a massive side effect of depression. I feel stupid and thick all the time. Even now I’m typing things wrong that I used to know so well. I’m failing everything because I don’t have enough time to sleep and do the amount of work I need to do.
Yet I can go out at 9pm on a Friday night and have only a single hours sleep before starting a 12 hour shift at work. I don’t know how I can do this. Perhaps it’s the alcohol the mood lift of having a good time. The sheer adrenalin I ask my body to pump out in order to get me through the day. I seriously have no clue how I manage it but I do. Make no mistake by the end of it I feel I want to sleep for a century but at least I manage it. Which is more than I can say for the rest of the week. I sleep so much and miss so much.
I don’t even know if waking up entirely is what I want. I just wish I had some more energy in which to play with without feeling like the walking dead before the day’s out.
I love sleeping, truly I do. It’s my comfort blanket from everything. I don’t have to deal with my physical or emotional self while I’m sleeping. I don’t have to think about thing’s I’m unhappy about or criticize myself for not thinking about them. I don’t have to sit and worry about things or open the great chasm of what Rabbit’s doing. Rabbit’s hard to work out. I struggle, I assume he doesn’t care for me in any way, therefore I can’t be let down. I know a small part of me cares about this stuff but I’m not going to let it grow. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.
He doesn’t care about me if he cheats on me. And he has no problem doing that. It’s just sometimes he shows such upset when I say things that are heartless to him. Perhaps he wishes to have me under his thumb. In order to manipulate me.
I’m not letting my optimism get the better of me though. If he cared he’d have made it official already. He’s waiting for something better to come along. Something in particular, someone he’s had his eye on for a while. That would explain the length of our interactions.
And when he does inevitably go, I’ll have my bed to crawl into and sleep it off in. They can’t hurt me from there. No one can, it’s my place and although the dreams aren’t always fanciful I know it’s better than being awake.
It’s holding me back. This entire depression thing is holding me back.
I feel thick, stupid and ugly at all times. I hate the physical effort of being me. The annoying things about me, the way my clothes never fit and the way my hair always gets in the way. I hate people looking at me. I have no self-confidence what so ever. I hate having to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. I do it so much now it’s hard to even get in touch with myself even though I know I’m still there if only faintly. I barely recognise myself in public. None of my friends want to know me.
I know it’s getting worse because I’ve become so irritable. I hope I don’t bump into people when I go out and I want nothing more than to be left alone, yet at the same time I want someone to be there.
Last year I clung to the hope I’d find someone who understood me. Who didn’t mind me being me. This year I’m more solid in my resolve to be left alone. The pangs for company are few and far between and not very strong.
Even Rabbit has to choose his day’s wisely in which to see me. I’ve begun hating everyone around me. Envying their skills and their beauty and how lucky they are.
I know I’ll have a slight sigh of relief when Rabbit leaves because then I know I won’t have this crushing pressure to be fun and interesting and keep him entertained. I won’t have to be sexy or seductive or think of things to say to fill the silence. I’ll just be left to be me again and I won’t have to worry constantly what he’s doing and when and how he’s going to break it off. Because it will have happened and I won’t have to think of these things anymore.
I feel heavy and fat and tired and 80 years old. I feel weak and sick and fatigued. I feel ill all the time.
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Aug. 5th, 2012 | 08:49 pm
I see people much older than me decaying in a dead end job which is literally a means to an end spending their break times speaking about their work not things that have upset them or sparked any sort of emotion. Usually detailing the menial activities their lives behold almost as if that’s all they can comprehend. It’s so… demeaning.
Perhaps it’s the wild flare and the ‘rebel’ so many people are convinced I have in me. But I sit and I look at people and I just want to shake them and scream in order to snap them out of this sort of vegetative cooped up state that they’ve declined to. The only person in control of you is you. 100 per cent. A manager can shout, scream and sack your sorry ass but you have that power to stop what you’re doing and think about your actions.
Perhaps it’s because I watched ‘Black Mirror’ recently which is where I’ll get the following example from. ‘If someone asked you to fuck a pig? Would you?’ For the majority it would be no because its demeaning it’s not ‘you’ and it’s not what you stand for at all. Then why do we spend our lives in such… miserable oppressed ways in which we truly lose the belief there’s something better out there?
I recently logged on to change.org and although I’m sceptical about how many changes it does actually make or if half of the petitions genuinely matter I still took the time to sign a few that I agreed with because that is, to me, a step in the right direction. You see the thing about sites like these are I find them great, any opportunity to stand up for something I don’t believe is right. But in comparison to the amount of hits youtube gets its nothing. Don’t get me wrong. I myself enjoy some of the videos on youtube and like to watch certain things on there and I have nothing against it. But why are we more bothered about what someone not entirely different to yourself has been up to in the week when we could be doing more productive things such as signing petitions to make changes. Rallying the things we are unhappy about and moving forward as a society and as a group instead of ‘just keeping your head down and getting by?’
For instance if I continue in my current job, when I die all I’ll have to say for myself is that I kept a shop tidy. Is that what the people of today really want to accomplish or do they want to say that they took part in something they believed in. I understand rationally speaking money’s a great fuel but it’s not soul food. I’m a big believer in working towards things. Storing money rather than satisfying small pointless needs.
‘People spend too much time working hard to buy shit they don’t need to impress people they don’t like’
The fact of the matter is we compromise ourselves too much it seems to me. Everyday I see another person with a perfect face in a suit looking like every human fibre’s been cut out of their system and they’d get sacked for shedding a bit of warmth.
Another thing that worries me is this trend. At my current postion I sell fuckloads of pajama’s, cosy things relaxing things. Things that would make a house a sanctuary. Is this really what we’ve been reduced to. We care so much about saving face that we are only ourselves in our own homes. Its almost as if work had overtaken who we should be. Their demands are near robotic. They want someone who can work and look the same as everyone else and veneer over it all by using the word ‘professional’ which is some sort of skewed fucked up code for ‘society demands we act a certain way’
The only reason I enjoy and keep my job is because of the power of being a stranger in this role. A person doesn’t expect a cashier to make conversation with them or comfort them when the ex is refusing to pay csa. One lady that stands out was one who came up to me asking for a black blazer. I showed her a selection and none were right for her. I dismissed it as being particular. I’m a particular person myself and wasn’t going to think any more of it until she mentioned it was for a funeral. I cocked my head to the side and she burst into tears I’ve just lost my Mum. To which I totally understood. The brains a beautiful thing even when it’s in dischord. She couldn’t choose a jacket because she felt helpless and vulnerable and lost and didn’t feel able to decide. I comforted her and told her that her mother more than likely devoted her life to raising her and she’d be upset to see all the good work go to waste. I told her to stay strong and take care of herself. You see sometimes it’s not about a blazer it’s about being back in the rat race on your own trying to function. And as a complete stranger I think in some ways it means more to have someone step out of position and be a fucking human for once show some empathy and encouragement and smile because it’s so fucking rare these days.
The other day I was serving a customer and they were worrying about the fact the bag had the cheap brand name on the side and what people would think. It’s a fucking bag, you should be proud of where you’re from what you’ve achieved and not care about what people who are willing to judge you on a paper bag think about you… Where’s the sense in these people?
What is the world coming to when we can’t communicate and use beautiful words to establish grand connections and make a real difference?
Instead we keep ourselves to ourselves, show respect to those who don’t deserve it based on their paycheck, shut ourselves away and if you’re what society would call ‘mentally unstable’ hate ourselves for it.
Small fact for you, it’s hardly mental instability when it hits a majority of people is it? It’s a big fucking sign.
If something upsets you, do yourself the courtesy of doing something about it.
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Jul. 9th, 2012 | 07:08 pm
I need opportunities and I need things to stimulate me and engage me.
Lately I've been watching films and feeling proud of myself for doing so. As if its an obsatcle but I can't say I gain anything from what I watch. I just feel accomplished to have taken part in watching a film.
In turn I feel I'm a bland person as I have no experiences I can talk about in the recent past. The only things I talk about are things I did back when I was fun and now all my recent stories are along the lines of 'This one time I got high...' and something quite frankly boring happened.
I glean no joy from doing anything anymore. I have no feelings other than anger and I can't remember the last time I did something... monumental.
So I'm going to start writing down things I aim to achieve in my day. I feel so old. My sisters 1 year old doesn't sleep as much as me. It must be a bout a year since I started sleeping in such a big way and all I can think is my time's running out here and I'm doing nothing with it, I think I should take something up.
I hope to kickstart my photography beause although its so cliche now for people to take it up as a hobby I think that will die down and theres so much competition for anything related to photography. I should consider this a challenge to be better but currently I just think well what's the point. I do enjoy it, the shooting the production and the finished product even more so if it brings in any money.
I think I should have a go at that,
I also think I should spend more time concentrating on my driving because my lessons have gone on far too long.
It would also hopefully help with my intense paranoia as I'll be too busy to spend time worrying and thinking about things and questioning even the smallest of exchanges,
I'm going to start swimming again and spend time practising yoga, two other things I used to enjoy,
I've also bought a load of things that could be called good for me as a person which is something completely different to the usual fags and alcohol I spend my money on,
I shall try these day targets out because lets be honest its not like I'm doing anything else with my life other than earning money and wasting it on things I don't really need,
Ive been in this room far too long to the point where I get sick at the sight of it, It used to be an escape and now its like an enclosure for me. The only place I can really be.
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Jun. 7th, 2012 | 02:12 am
Its happy people that cry.
My tears are always pathetic exhaustion tears, when I'm fed up. When I've had more than enough when I'm in lots of pain from being awake too long. Occasionally, they are because I'm in bed and I can't sleep. I cry because then I feel trapped in wakefulness. I grow desperate, consider allsorts of ways of escape. Usually after a few hours of being stuck in limbo I'll down a quad of whiskey straight and go back upstairs. It never fails.
The fact of the matter is. I know I don't deserve things, I know I'm a piece of walking shit. I accept this, it doesn't upset me when I'm treated like it. It cheers me up to feed people and make them all comfy, because I don't feel guilty like when I do it for myself. That's probably why I have mostly male friends, they appreciate being fed.
I'm my happiest when I'm sleeping, beth must think I'm a moving corpse. I go over to hers fall asleep for hours wake up and leave. I sit and long to be back in bed. I spend hours here sleeping as I write I'm laid in bed planning to sleep the entire day off. I live my life sleeping.
I met someone at the start of the year. In between hibernate length naps. I do this thing when I first meet people I like. I figure out how it would most likely end. I decided on 'fuck other people' but I'm not quite right.
I don't know I liked his eyes and his smile and his sense of humour and his hair colour and his skin. I guess I kinda ran into it... Two years of idle searching and I finally come across someone I actually like. I then assessed other peoples reactions to him. And realized it wouldn't work at all.
People who are admired by large amounts of people always have glamorous female counterparts. Looks which I despise looking at because not even in my wildest dreams could I touch upon it.
That's usually where I back out. Its where I backed out with Birdy. Its where I should have backed out with him.
But I didn't back out, I wanted it, I'd had enough of mediocre males, getting bored of regular sex, grown a massive hatred for people to the point I didn't even want them touching me not even in a nonsexual way. Everything they said I found either thick or disgusted me. I started to despise myself for even depending on these people for my happiness. I'd go home thoroughly disappointed in myself after each one even if my brain was smirking back at me, the cat that got the cream.
But I guess I allowed it to be different with him, I confronted birdy about it and he turned around smiled and told me he never needed to masterbate because there was always a girl he could shove his dick in. But when I confronted him he told me I'd got it all wrong.
Then I started to care.
Then I started hearing about the girls he'd shagged. And it hurt me a bit, not enough to make me cry. I expected this, there's so many pretty people out there. And I don't consider myself special at all. I just thought it a bit of a shame.
I warned him I'll often take what I like from what people say to me. I told him I pretended what pleased me. I told him I was sorry for my actions.
Then he got busy... His texts had been petering out, he got busy with his band. But I know he got busy chasing other girls. He got busy making a facebook page, just like my ex got busy making a jigsaw. I don't see him anymore because the few texts he does send me tell me about how busy he is.
My blood runs cold when my friends tell me about who he's been having sex with. I get goosebumps all over me and go into some stupid sort of shock.
Now I see him on my facebook and I feel physically sick. My heart lurches and I feel ill. I hate myself for being so stupid to fall for such obvious lies. I hate myself for not being good enough.
Now I just want to snuggle him. I don't want to have sex with him, I want to snuggle him and hold his hand and spoil him and be near him.
But I know that only really works in my head now because if I did actually see him I'd feel sick and nervous and I wouldn't know what to do or say. I'd just want to dig a hole in the ground and disappear into it. I'd have an intense want to be back in my room on my own.
I even feel nervous going to college now, so I cut it out. He lives so close by I could accidentally bump into him.
I guess if people actually meant what they said this wouldn't be such an issue for me. But they don't.
It was nice while it lasted I guess. If he texts me now I won't respond I'll pretend I've changed my number
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May. 5th, 2012 | 08:30 pm
I've turned into this really bitter aggressive unpleasant person. To the point where I don't feel I can have a civil conversation with anyone. Everytime I pick up my phone I'm disappointed its not him.
I turned the blackberry off. I might turn it back on on wednesday I guess it depends how I feel. I hope people don't think this is some kind of massive cry for attention. And that I want to turn my phone back on to loads of messages this is really not what this is about. Its about stability its about me. Its about being happy with myself and learning to not rely on others to make me happy. Its about taking some time out and giving myself some real, undrugged, space to breathe. Its not because I'm being a child and I don't think I'm getting enough attention off my friends. If anything its the opposite. I'm doing my head in with all these pointless attention seeking messages I keep sending to Rabbit. And he doesn't have the foggiest about why I'm the way I am at all. He doesn't understand at all why I get upset that he doesn't text me back and yet if he shags someone else thats almost a none issue.
I just can't account for my actions at all anymore. I've just been sat watching myself and I don't like what I see. I hate it in fact. I hate how snarly I am with people who really don't deserve it and how abrasive I can be with those people who care about me. Even some of my thoughts I've mentally slapped myself for.
The fact of the matter is I've got to the point now where every waking minute all I care about is when my next spliff is and if I'm going to be able to communicate with rabbit. And life is about so much more than that.
I'm also kinda disappointed in myself for all of a sudden not being able to cope with being on my own. I've grown up doing loads of things on my own to the point where now I think it would be odd if I went out and did things with people. And now all of a sudden I can't stand to be without him? It doesn't make any sense to me.
I don't like it at all.
I never EVER want to be that stupid fool that thinks the guy their seeing is talking about margarine when he says he has 'Flora on his bed'
I never EVER want to care about that ever ever again.
I'm perfect for the game, all these feelings make me sick and fuck with my mind and I spend all my time worrying about how its going to end and how I'm going to be crushed. And I know he's got a really mean streak and if he wanted to he could chew me up and spit me out publicly in front of everyone.
I talk about him all the time I think about him all the time and I want to be near him all the time to the point where I feel stroppy and upset.
I just sit and constantly beg him for attention and I don't know whether it annoys me more that I have to beg or that I'm not getting any.
I've got to that crucuial point too in which I really, really can't go without sex any longer. Its been 2 weeks and I'm getting really ratty and irritable. And the last thing I want to do is text him begging him to have sex with me or threatening him that if he doesn't then I'll find someone else to do it with.
I don't want to have sex with someone else.
But I feel so fucking worthless, powerless and alone without that.
I buy things if I'm not getting any sex to give myself a sense of worth to try and tell myself that I deserve nice things. But I know I don't and I just end up feeling more hollow and shallow and disgusted at myself. Unfortunately I don't have as much money as I did. I don't have a comfortable grand to eat into and top up.
Today I thought about self harm, I almost wished I had heartburn so my mind wouldn't be so bent on taking chunks out of itself.
I guess thats what really spurred me to make this decision to just take a fucking break from everything. I've contemplated suicide before and it isn't fun. But self harm, once years ago and it never happened. I guess I've always kinda taken pride in that tiny bit of control I have left of this fucking stupid brain of mine. And today all I wanted to do was pick up the biggest knife I could find and slash until I couldn't see anymore.
I guess after Wednesday I'll have to give him one last chance to make any sort of arrangement. And if not. I'll go hunt someone down.
I'm a disgusting ugly shallow person. But at least I see myself for what I am.
I'm a fucking mess. And I'm not realtionship material not by a long shot.
People are nice at a distance, I should never ever think it a good idea to allow them any closer.