I am not looking forward to tomorrow.
There's an award ceremony.
For the students who hit a certain grade point average.
I know. I know. I shouldn't care so much, because really. I could've been one of those students.
And yet I will not be there. With them. I'll be in the class with the teachers who make the biggest deal of these things...and that's what makes me sick.
Have I mentioned I really don't like school.
...
Don't get me wrong. I love reading textbooks, taking notes, listening to lectures. That's all I want. The drama that even the high school teachers bring to the classroom, that's what I dislike. I sit in the back and take notes. I can't stand to participate unless my grade is at stake.
I have stats homework to try and comprehend.
J'ai passe simple etudier.
Lining for a corset to cut out and pin, looking forward to almost completing the corset! :D
English notes to take. Somehow in one day, we went from Chapter 2 to Chapter 7...
Econ notes to- no, I'm just going to read the chapter. I'm so tired. Doing my assignments and then sleeping.
That's it.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
We could open up
Suicide- The various aspects might be heading these blogs for awhile. But I'm going to figure out. Is it ironic that I want to help those who feel as empty and dead as I do, when I grow up? If I grow up?
Many people view suicide as cowardice and if you look at it as running from problems, sure. It's cowardly. It's weak. But then there's the planning of suicide and if you have a vivid imagination, thinking of 1001 ways to kill yourself can get pretty...gory. Even further down the line there's the act of suicide. I cried for a good hour before I took my...medicine. It's numbing once you get so far as to "do it". And the only thing that can stop it is someone else, because your life seems to no longer be your own, out of your control. The people I sent that message to? Those were the only people I knew wouldn't shun me if I lived, the only people I trusted to not make a scene, the only people had any affect on my life who would have an effect now.
Reaching out for help? I don't think that's cowardly at all. Why bring it up all, right? No one wants to hear that. No one cares. Excuses. We all know it isn't right for people to want to kill themselves. We all know it's a sign something inside isn't right. And the mass majority of people, as noble as they claim to be, would rather suicidal, depressed, bipolar people just keep their insanity to themselves. Not a chance. Let's start with something basic.
Mutilation is an outlet, in most cases. People who have been interviewed for the creation of A BRIGHT RED SCREAM by Marilee Strong say cutting helps the pain lessen, because in their wounds, the frustration is flowing out and their not keeping it inside. I think that applies to suicide and depression as well. If there is an outlet present, then there isn't a backlog of negative thoughts. If it can all "flow" then anyone trying to see inside can help.
What some people might think, "You tried to kill yourself once, like you know how it feels. You're probably some hyper little teenager just trying to get attention and this is the lamest way to get it. It's sick. High school is just a phase, it'll end and you'll go on to have a life. So you read a bunch of books on suicide and psychological disorders and know you think you know them? Stop playing around and grow up."
I'm not doing it for attention. I only thought that because I was afraid of other people thinking that. But I know I'm not. And that's all that matters. Again the thoughts going through my mind, were not of high school and my peers, so guess again. And for my choice of reading, if any they help me.
What about you? What's inside your depths?
Many people view suicide as cowardice and if you look at it as running from problems, sure. It's cowardly. It's weak. But then there's the planning of suicide and if you have a vivid imagination, thinking of 1001 ways to kill yourself can get pretty...gory. Even further down the line there's the act of suicide. I cried for a good hour before I took my...medicine. It's numbing once you get so far as to "do it". And the only thing that can stop it is someone else, because your life seems to no longer be your own, out of your control. The people I sent that message to? Those were the only people I knew wouldn't shun me if I lived, the only people I trusted to not make a scene, the only people had any affect on my life who would have an effect now.
Reaching out for help? I don't think that's cowardly at all. Why bring it up all, right? No one wants to hear that. No one cares. Excuses. We all know it isn't right for people to want to kill themselves. We all know it's a sign something inside isn't right. And the mass majority of people, as noble as they claim to be, would rather suicidal, depressed, bipolar people just keep their insanity to themselves. Not a chance. Let's start with something basic.
Mutilation is an outlet, in most cases. People who have been interviewed for the creation of A BRIGHT RED SCREAM by Marilee Strong say cutting helps the pain lessen, because in their wounds, the frustration is flowing out and their not keeping it inside. I think that applies to suicide and depression as well. If there is an outlet present, then there isn't a backlog of negative thoughts. If it can all "flow" then anyone trying to see inside can help.
What some people might think, "You tried to kill yourself once, like you know how it feels. You're probably some hyper little teenager just trying to get attention and this is the lamest way to get it. It's sick. High school is just a phase, it'll end and you'll go on to have a life. So you read a bunch of books on suicide and psychological disorders and know you think you know them? Stop playing around and grow up."
I'm not doing it for attention. I only thought that because I was afraid of other people thinking that. But I know I'm not. And that's all that matters. Again the thoughts going through my mind, were not of high school and my peers, so guess again. And for my choice of reading, if any they help me.
What about you? What's inside your depths?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Reasons Why
Right now? I don't think I can give any valid reason why I tried to kill myself. It's a rush then and there, and it must be satisfied or extinguished. I don't get to choose when it comes or how it goes. I just know, I don't like it and I wish it would go away. I'm afraid of it coming back. Anxiety starts it, but it's never the only thing. All my little problems, I can deal with it one at a time, but then somewhere, somehow, things start slipping and I crash. Or precisely I suffocate.
I know I won't stop trying. The allure of it being the one thing that will make everything better will never go away. I can't tell anyone that. I can't talk to anyone about it. Because it's too depressing. And you know what? The more I talk about it, the less I need it. But that's how everything is for me. Once I can get it out of my system, I hardly look back. But that's asking way too much of people to just deal with it. I'm always asking too much of people.
People. It's partly them. I wish I could not blame them for it. But it's partially their fault. As much as it is my own for letting people, who could really care less for me, get to me so personally. They're off living their lives and for some reason I thought I could be...a part of it. Wanted, I guess. But that's been the theme of my life so far. Lol, in elementary school they used to call me the Unwanted One. I'll never forget that. I'll never forget a lot of things.
I did it-
because I was tired of talking about. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. Just how badly did I want it? Enough to try it. Enough to hurt myself because I thought(and still think) I deserved it.
Why did I reach out?
Because I had to say something, so it wouldn't be a surprise. It might as well have been my way of saying good-bye. But I know I wanted help. That I didn't want to just be snuffed out by a handful of pills.
The finality of all, of making the decision, that was...off.
I know I won't stop trying. The allure of it being the one thing that will make everything better will never go away. I can't tell anyone that. I can't talk to anyone about it. Because it's too depressing. And you know what? The more I talk about it, the less I need it. But that's how everything is for me. Once I can get it out of my system, I hardly look back. But that's asking way too much of people to just deal with it. I'm always asking too much of people.
People. It's partly them. I wish I could not blame them for it. But it's partially their fault. As much as it is my own for letting people, who could really care less for me, get to me so personally. They're off living their lives and for some reason I thought I could be...a part of it. Wanted, I guess. But that's been the theme of my life so far. Lol, in elementary school they used to call me the Unwanted One. I'll never forget that. I'll never forget a lot of things.
I did it-
because I was tired of talking about. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. Just how badly did I want it? Enough to try it. Enough to hurt myself because I thought(and still think) I deserved it.
Why did I reach out?
Because I had to say something, so it wouldn't be a surprise. It might as well have been my way of saying good-bye. But I know I wanted help. That I didn't want to just be snuffed out by a handful of pills.
The finality of all, of making the decision, that was...off.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Attempt 1
I took 17 pills. I do not feel well at all. Emotionally, physically. Anything. it's all off.
I don't know. Half of me wants to wake up tomorrow. Half of me just wants to go in my sleep.
I'm going to keep trying. Now that I know, I can readily take them hoping to die. We'll see I guess. I can't think straight.
I am sorry.
I don't know. Half of me wants to wake up tomorrow. Half of me just wants to go in my sleep.
I'm going to keep trying. Now that I know, I can readily take them hoping to die. We'll see I guess. I can't think straight.
I am sorry.
All the gods lost to one
Insomnia. By correct defintion, I don't think I'm an insomniac at all. By creative definition, yes, I am. But I think I've traced the cause of my inability to fall asleep to my dependence on caffeine, which explains a lot.
I have at least half a liter of something with caffeine in it every day, whether it be coffee or Coke (because any other soda is truly pointless) and energy drinks. These all have roughly the same effect on me, and I use them all for the same purpose: 1. to help me stay awake and 2. to make my pills kick in faster. If there's nothing I can drink that would be supply me with what has now become a necessity, I take Excerdrin. It's slightly less potent for me, so I take two.
I sleep during the day, particularly right after school (2pm) and won't move until say...6ish. Drink something caffeinated, take two pills, fall asleep before 1am, wake up for 5am, go to school at 7am, repeat. Maybe. If I'm lucky. Sometimes, at least twice a week, I'm up for 24+ hours, then sleep for 12+ the next day and maybe make it to all five days a week for school.
I could always stop drinking the caffeinated drinks and try to be live a healthier lifestyle, but of course that's of no real interest to me. Due to a little experiment back in December 2008, I can presently last up two days without a drink. When I smoked it was at best a week, but then I smoked more. I would rather stay awake for days than deal with the headache caffeine withdrawal brings. No, thank you.
It's not a complaint. I'm just happy I figured it out. I hope.
I have at least half a liter of something with caffeine in it every day, whether it be coffee or Coke (because any other soda is truly pointless) and energy drinks. These all have roughly the same effect on me, and I use them all for the same purpose: 1. to help me stay awake and 2. to make my pills kick in faster. If there's nothing I can drink that would be supply me with what has now become a necessity, I take Excerdrin. It's slightly less potent for me, so I take two.
I sleep during the day, particularly right after school (2pm) and won't move until say...6ish. Drink something caffeinated, take two pills, fall asleep before 1am, wake up for 5am, go to school at 7am, repeat. Maybe. If I'm lucky. Sometimes, at least twice a week, I'm up for 24+ hours, then sleep for 12+ the next day and maybe make it to all five days a week for school.
I could always stop drinking the caffeinated drinks and try to be live a healthier lifestyle, but of course that's of no real interest to me. Due to a little experiment back in December 2008, I can presently last up two days without a drink. When I smoked it was at best a week, but then I smoked more. I would rather stay awake for days than deal with the headache caffeine withdrawal brings. No, thank you.
It's not a complaint. I'm just happy I figured it out. I hope.
Friday, September 18, 2009
I hear there are great....
It's nights like this when I can't sleep, I write. I write pointless, random nonsense that's floating around in my head, so I don't have to carry it with me. But I can't let go of it all, not at all once.
I think I am interest person. If you hang out with me, you're guaranteed to have a good time. Through text, through just that alone, you'd figure I'm some depressed, music-addicted, slightly disturbed Diva of the West Side. But I'm not that person. I just...don't filter anything out. It's all there, I didn't know that's how life worked. I knew that's how games worked. Lie upon lie, doesn't matter. It turns out you have to lie all the time. Maybe someday I'll tell the truth.
I love narcissists. Not because of the abuse they inflict on those who love them, not anymore, but because they love themselves. They're sickeningly obsessed with themselves. I think I envy that. But they are flawed. They can't (or have trouble) disconnecting from themselves. I've never been connected. I just give all the time. It's hard to hold the mask up for so long, but I'm getting better. I'm still perfecting this persona.
I don't look like I'm supposed to be here. I'm too awkward, too frail, too emotional. I hate lying though. It makes me sick. But if I'm myself, I make people sick. A Perfect Lie, right?
...restaurants, out west, some of the best.
I think I am interest person. If you hang out with me, you're guaranteed to have a good time. Through text, through just that alone, you'd figure I'm some depressed, music-addicted, slightly disturbed Diva of the West Side. But I'm not that person. I just...don't filter anything out. It's all there, I didn't know that's how life worked. I knew that's how games worked. Lie upon lie, doesn't matter. It turns out you have to lie all the time. Maybe someday I'll tell the truth.
I love narcissists. Not because of the abuse they inflict on those who love them, not anymore, but because they love themselves. They're sickeningly obsessed with themselves. I think I envy that. But they are flawed. They can't (or have trouble) disconnecting from themselves. I've never been connected. I just give all the time. It's hard to hold the mask up for so long, but I'm getting better. I'm still perfecting this persona.
I don't look like I'm supposed to be here. I'm too awkward, too frail, too emotional. I hate lying though. It makes me sick. But if I'm myself, I make people sick. A Perfect Lie, right?
...restaurants, out west, some of the best.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Maybe we should jump
Heads or tails?
-Tails. Do you not own a coin?
It's always more than asking heads or tails.
(I deleted the response to this....oops.)
Metaphors-
I will never be able to look at a coin and just see a coin. Ever. A cup of cocoa is not a steamy warms the soul, hint of caramel, milky chocolate delectable.
*Wait. If a cup of cocoa of ridiculously good cocoa is NOT cocoa, then what the muffin is it?
It is anything I want it to be. I go through life and when I see things, scenes, moments shared, I ask why is this important. Why does it make me happy? Sad? Whatever. A cup of cocoa could be an entirely sexual experience or it could be a really good thing of cocoa. (I have been told I enjoy the entire concept of food and eating it way too much.) But whatever happens with that cup of cocoa is going to lead to something else, and that something might make me think of cocoa. Might not. And thus, I can never see it as just a cup of cocoa. Because it just might mean something.
Thinking-
*You do realize you're wasting your time over thinking all of this nonsense right?
Nope. It happens naturally. When you talk about food, I'm in the kitchen, across the counter from you, looking at the creation you deem worthy to tell me about. (restaurant what the muffin.) You say "I loved fucking Tanya." Well, I'm sorry, I'm going to think about you fucking Tanya. And it'll probably traumatize me. I have to be there, I have to see it, I have to know. Tell a story well once, I'll respect you for basically a long period of time. Fail to hold my attention and I will cut you off, if you dare try again. (There are ways to redeem oneself....)
*So you think about pointless shit and totally detract from the moment. Nice.
Not at all. If anything it heightens it. For me. I don't share my thoughts. People on that normal wave length wouldn't get why I detest Spongebob Squarepants with such an avid passion. He's square, he's simple, and I can't imagine him having sex with anything and this usually no difficult task. (Yeah, I think about sex a lot, but not as much as you think. I think about food and what I could be eating right now, waaaay more.)
Over thinking, it happens, I like it. It reminds me that I am alive. I can feel and experience and if my imagination gets ahead of me, well...someone will stop me.
Drama
"Like OMG, you're just a drama queen."
I am known for being the DIVA. Brightest make up that still remains unrivaled (cirque du soliel, anyone?), the burning passion for whatever I put my mind too and the willingness to be there everyone and do pretty much everything. We, the drama kids, we're talking about the theatre, and apparently, little attempt at Diva calls it HER theatre and HER stage. I only say "that's not right." A girl I hardly know says, "If anyone deserves to call it their theatre it's you." That made me happy. I will not leave and be forgotten. Mmmmm. Personally, honestly, I don't care. I want make something bright, loud, dramatic, comedic. ALL OF IT. For the theatre at my school. It's my senior year. I would consider it a fatal sin to not leave something as bright and obnoxious as myself behind for years to follow to shake their head at.
Like, drama drama, I can't feel it. I have no idea when it's there, when it's not. I don't categorize situations as "high school" and so on. I don't. I can't. So I won't. I'm not a confrontational person. I'm aggressive like hell, sure, but I rarely push, unless I want something more than I respect a person. I will hardly ever go out of my way to mess with people, create drama, and the like. I don't like being a part of it, though I love hearing about it. For some reason it makes me violently happy people are viciously interacting.
Truth-
I have been impressed and that is something I never share.
-Tails. Do you not own a coin?
It's always more than asking heads or tails.
(I deleted the response to this....oops.)
Metaphors-
I will never be able to look at a coin and just see a coin. Ever. A cup of cocoa is not a steamy warms the soul, hint of caramel, milky chocolate delectable.
*Wait. If a cup of cocoa of ridiculously good cocoa is NOT cocoa, then what the muffin is it?
It is anything I want it to be. I go through life and when I see things, scenes, moments shared, I ask why is this important. Why does it make me happy? Sad? Whatever. A cup of cocoa could be an entirely sexual experience or it could be a really good thing of cocoa. (I have been told I enjoy the entire concept of food and eating it way too much.) But whatever happens with that cup of cocoa is going to lead to something else, and that something might make me think of cocoa. Might not. And thus, I can never see it as just a cup of cocoa. Because it just might mean something.
Thinking-
*You do realize you're wasting your time over thinking all of this nonsense right?
Nope. It happens naturally. When you talk about food, I'm in the kitchen, across the counter from you, looking at the creation you deem worthy to tell me about. (restaurant what the muffin.) You say "I loved fucking Tanya." Well, I'm sorry, I'm going to think about you fucking Tanya. And it'll probably traumatize me. I have to be there, I have to see it, I have to know. Tell a story well once, I'll respect you for basically a long period of time. Fail to hold my attention and I will cut you off, if you dare try again. (There are ways to redeem oneself....)
*So you think about pointless shit and totally detract from the moment. Nice.
Not at all. If anything it heightens it. For me. I don't share my thoughts. People on that normal wave length wouldn't get why I detest Spongebob Squarepants with such an avid passion. He's square, he's simple, and I can't imagine him having sex with anything and this usually no difficult task. (Yeah, I think about sex a lot, but not as much as you think. I think about food and what I could be eating right now, waaaay more.)
Over thinking, it happens, I like it. It reminds me that I am alive. I can feel and experience and if my imagination gets ahead of me, well...someone will stop me.
Drama
"Like OMG, you're just a drama queen."
I am known for being the DIVA. Brightest make up that still remains unrivaled (cirque du soliel, anyone?), the burning passion for whatever I put my mind too and the willingness to be there everyone and do pretty much everything. We, the drama kids, we're talking about the theatre, and apparently, little attempt at Diva calls it HER theatre and HER stage. I only say "that's not right." A girl I hardly know says, "If anyone deserves to call it their theatre it's you." That made me happy. I will not leave and be forgotten. Mmmmm. Personally, honestly, I don't care. I want make something bright, loud, dramatic, comedic. ALL OF IT. For the theatre at my school. It's my senior year. I would consider it a fatal sin to not leave something as bright and obnoxious as myself behind for years to follow to shake their head at.
Like, drama drama, I can't feel it. I have no idea when it's there, when it's not. I don't categorize situations as "high school" and so on. I don't. I can't. So I won't. I'm not a confrontational person. I'm aggressive like hell, sure, but I rarely push, unless I want something more than I respect a person. I will hardly ever go out of my way to mess with people, create drama, and the like. I don't like being a part of it, though I love hearing about it. For some reason it makes me violently happy people are viciously interacting.
Truth-
I have been impressed and that is something I never share.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
You're trying to trick me
I didn't know I was annoying people. I'm just way too
obsessive?
clingy?
needy?
one of those things. Maybe that's why I'm so uninteresting. I give too quickly and it's no like anything will change within the day, the week, the month, the year. So why stay? I don't know. I thought I was doing something right and I guess, like always, I was wrong....
mmm, where will I put all my morbid thoughts now? They won't disappear. That's a part of me that can't change. I've tried. But that's the part that people don't like. I don't get it. If I hide it, there's no substance to what I'm saying, the persona I'm displaying. If I share it, too often anyway or even at al right?, then people back away. I'm not trying to please people directly, but by pleasing myself, I sort of please people (because we're sharing in each other's happiness or something like that) and then by pleasing people I please myself more. I'm sort of dependent on people. All people, pretty interesting people especially.
Benefits to being myself:
Honesty with myself and those around me
Happy that I can be so confident to wear such outrageous make up
Some level of confidence in facing the world.
Insomnia (have to take pills to sleep)
No panic attacks
Disadvantages:
Winning less and losing more people
Panic attacks at least every two weeks
Paranoia
Hypersomnia (I slept more when I was stressed out)
Low self-esteem
Lying to make people happy
They seem equal in my eyes. So the question is, Do I want my health to be at risk for the instant gratification that comes with people being happy with me?
I think I do.
I have to hide me.
Like old times.
So this should be no problem.
obsessive?
clingy?
needy?
one of those things. Maybe that's why I'm so uninteresting. I give too quickly and it's no like anything will change within the day, the week, the month, the year. So why stay? I don't know. I thought I was doing something right and I guess, like always, I was wrong....
mmm, where will I put all my morbid thoughts now? They won't disappear. That's a part of me that can't change. I've tried. But that's the part that people don't like. I don't get it. If I hide it, there's no substance to what I'm saying, the persona I'm displaying. If I share it, too often anyway or even at al right?, then people back away. I'm not trying to please people directly, but by pleasing myself, I sort of please people (because we're sharing in each other's happiness or something like that) and then by pleasing people I please myself more. I'm sort of dependent on people. All people, pretty interesting people especially.
Benefits to being myself:
Honesty with myself and those around me
Happy that I can be so confident to wear such outrageous make up
Some level of confidence in facing the world.
Insomnia (have to take pills to sleep)
No panic attacks
Disadvantages:
Winning less and losing more people
Panic attacks at least every two weeks
Paranoia
Hypersomnia (I slept more when I was stressed out)
Low self-esteem
Lying to make people happy
They seem equal in my eyes. So the question is, Do I want my health to be at risk for the instant gratification that comes with people being happy with me?
I think I do.
I have to hide me.
Like old times.
So this should be no problem.
Monday, September 7, 2009
I don't mind changing my disguse
I hate being ignored. Not nearly as much as most things in life, but it's up there with ways to piss me off quickly.
It shouldn't matter. It really shouldn't. I can't lash out at this person, because it isn't technically their fault. I demand a lot of attention at first sure, but the more readily you respond the less I'll come to you for attention. My interest in you won't necessarily fade, it'll just be less of necessity to force my personality down your throat. Maybe it's horrible, but I kind of don't care. I'm tried of having to neglect my wants, my needs, my homework in some cases, so someone else can have their Diva moment. I'm all for sharing the spotlight, but not if it costs me or if I do, in those rare instances, decline.
Maybe it is too much of a strain. I'm asking way too much of people. "Love me." "Feed me." Maybe I should shut up and crawl back into that morbid place of my mind. I certainly can't just unleash on the world so quickly...so easily...so by myself.
Give or take? Love or hate? Destroy or savour? I can't have both. Not like you can. No, I'm a person of extremes and it's either completely dominant or sickeningly submissive. You can't get moderation in the beginning with me. That takes effort my dear, and you haven't proven your worth. Everyone else, they're lucky if they get my attention once a week, much less a month. If you're new and I like you, you'd best pretend to love me, or I'll hurt you the only way I know how.
With a knife in your femoral artery of course.
It shouldn't matter. It really shouldn't. I can't lash out at this person, because it isn't technically their fault. I demand a lot of attention at first sure, but the more readily you respond the less I'll come to you for attention. My interest in you won't necessarily fade, it'll just be less of necessity to force my personality down your throat. Maybe it's horrible, but I kind of don't care. I'm tried of having to neglect my wants, my needs, my homework in some cases, so someone else can have their Diva moment. I'm all for sharing the spotlight, but not if it costs me or if I do, in those rare instances, decline.
Maybe it is too much of a strain. I'm asking way too much of people. "Love me." "Feed me." Maybe I should shut up and crawl back into that morbid place of my mind. I certainly can't just unleash on the world so quickly...so easily...so by myself.
Give or take? Love or hate? Destroy or savour? I can't have both. Not like you can. No, I'm a person of extremes and it's either completely dominant or sickeningly submissive. You can't get moderation in the beginning with me. That takes effort my dear, and you haven't proven your worth. Everyone else, they're lucky if they get my attention once a week, much less a month. If you're new and I like you, you'd best pretend to love me, or I'll hurt you the only way I know how.
With a knife in your femoral artery of course.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
