21:50

But still that tiny little bit of me somewhere who knows where says no so maybe I won't but goddamn I'm feeling like shit and I literally can't handle all of this and every single fucking hurdle placed in my way because sure I can jump them but sometime I'm gunna just trip and fall on my face and damn if I haven't done that enough but Jesus Christ I've been jumping everything put in my way but I'm ninety percent sure this is where I trip up again and land on my fucking face and I turn everything to shit again because isn't that what I always do?????

21:44

I just want to go straight back to where I was before and it's the biggest struggle not to go find all my razors again and start cutting and I've been smoking cigarette after cigarette because life is killing me right now and I can't handle all this. I don't even know if I should be telling you this because who knows what you'll do but all I feel like is starving and cutting and dying but it's been so long since I've done all that shit and do I really want to start that again but all my body says and all my head says is yes yes yes. 

Flowers

Tears

Have you ever noticed tears burn like fire coursing down your cheeks

My Little Haiku Problem

I have a problem

With writing constant haikus

Jesus save me now. 

Feeling Sick

Ugh. I feel so sick. 

And I'm disappointed too 

All I want is you

Someone. Please.

Help me. 

Why won't you

Why won't you hold me

I tell you just remember

I'm so sad at night 

When I'm With You

When I'm with you now

All seems fine. When I'm alone

Doubt creeps in my mind. 

Used To

I'm used to the run

The run of blood down my thigh

And lines crossing skin. 

Sometimes I'm Afraid

Sometimes I'm afraid

Of demons until I recall 

They are in my head

So You Answered

So you answered me

Said you want to talk with me

You can't text me first???? 

I Know

I know you've seen it

That you've opened my message

Will you answer me?

Feelings Confuse Me

Feelings confuse me

I go between anger and love

You've done none and all. 

Why Won't You

Why won't you talk to me? You can snapchat me now you know. But you won't. I'm waiting, Ben. I miss you. I just snap chatted you. I gave in. I said is wait for you to. But I'm too weak and womanly I guess. I needed to talk to you. Now well see if you actually answer. 

I doubt it. 

Today School Sucks

Today school sucks ass 

I'm bored and want to be home 

Plus I have no friends. 

Dyed Hair

And newly dyed hair

Make up and false eyelashes

Make me feel pretty 

You Tell Me to Stop

You tell me to stop

Why can't you understand me 

I need to part flesh

Art Always Calms Me

Art always calms me

And makes me put razors down

In ways you cannot 

What Would the World Be

What would the world be

If I did not live anymore

I think wonderful

Sometimes I Want Death

Sometimes I want death

To come sweep me away 

And carry me home. 

Moving and Living

I just can't function

Without your loving arms here

Encircling me

Haiku

Better Every Day

Not Fair

And the next morning she's just as much a fool as the night before. When I yelled and screamed at her through my tears. Asking her why she did this to me and the rest of the family. Why she can make mistakes like this but I must be perfect. And then I realized she hadn't heard a word because in her drunkeness had fallen asleep. 

Drunkeness

And thus my mom is drunk again. She came home and sat on the sofa and started asking me why I do this to her. She said its all my fault. I had to get her a trash can because she was throwing up and I made my little brother and sister go upstairs.  But then she tried to get up and just fell down across the coffee table. I went over to help but before I could she fell over again breaking the sofa. She asked why she was so weak. I wanted to scream at her. Why do you do this? Why? Why? Why? Each time you get drunk I break apart inside. I just shatter and especially when you tell me it's all my fault I just can't handle it. I want to go stay somewhere else right now. I need to. I had to help her upstairs as she knocked over paintings and her pants drooped. At one point she fell back down the stairs. Tumbling until I caught her. Why? Why? I just want to get away from here and cry for hours right now. I can't handle this. I can't. Maybe I should go get a rope. Or pills. Or a gun. I wish. I wish. I wish. But I won't. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. She disgusts me like this. 

School spirit

Follow Me to the River

So follow me down to the river tonight, follow my footsteps through the wooded dark, white dress flashing, laughter floating, haunted in look and feel. We'll sit by the water and run our fingers in its surface. We'll laugh as we hold our breath underwater until the air comes bubbling up and our bodies splash into the river and we slowly, slowly sink to the bottom.

See

about cigarettes

The thing about cigarettes is they burn going in. Down my throat. Into my lungs. Killing me. Slowly. So I have time to savor that on last drag. Before the chemicals take over my body and blood. Comforting me, relaxing me to death. And maybe I'm inhaling all wrong. Like a rookie that thinks they're pro, but goddamn I enjoy it. I enjoy every sweet menthol breath that I pull into my lungs and savor. I feel the heat between my fingers and the crossbones between my lips but I disregard the danger I hold in my lungs.  Like that quote from the book, you smoke for comfort, you smoke to be cool, I smoke to die. 

Run

What's it like to run away? To leave and never come back? I want to know. I want to know. I want to know. 

What's it like to live away. Away from family and friends. Away from stress. I want to know. I want to know. I want to know. 

This

This Blogger app is kinda perfect. 

Cats help

Hidden

And cuts

Cats

More cuts

Cuts

Still

And I still cut open the delicate skin of my wrists and hips.

Chasms

And in my sorrow I draw lines across my body, starting from somewhere, leading to nowhere.
 Just as my life seems to go every second and every minute, leaving me desolate as I am now.
I paint with the tears my wounds cry, red copper for clear salt, and hope to paint a life I'd wish to live. The image will leap from the page and blend to reality and for once I'll be genuinely happy.
But I know this simplicity can never be true because I feel fear and dark enfolds.
So instead I cry and pinch together with my fingers the chasms in my skin and heart.

One down

One Down and my head is woozy

My world is spinning

My vision clouding

Just one does so much

Can you imagine the effect of

Five

Once More With Luck

A glass of water

Five pills lined up

And a decision to live or die

Naive

I look back now at my earlier attempts and 10 sleeping pills and I laugh myself silly because, fuck, that's not going to do anything sweetie. Naiveté

Sad Girls

Angels have no hunger

Du bist ein Wunderkind und du bist für dein Wunder blind.

Is It Silly?

is it silly?

silly that I’m terrified

terrified that on day

one day you’ll awaken

awaken and realize that

that you don’t love me

you don’t love me anymore

A Letter to Myself at Age Five

Dear Little Girl,

   Continue to play. Be happy. This is the happiest time of your life. You are safe now. Everything is how it should be. Your parents love you and you love them. You have two loving kitties and will start Pre-K soon. Good luck.
   You have no idea what lies ahead but I promise you'll make it at least this far. You'll still be breathing by your 18th year. I love you, so I tell you to love yourself. I love you as you are now, innocent and young. I long to drag you from your hiding spot under the table next to the stairs. I long to gather you into my arms and hug you tight and break it to you that everything will get harder and you'll learn to hate. Hate not only others but yourself as well, above all yourself. Then I long to cry. To squeeze you to me and cry fat tears for the happiness and the innocence and the years that I lost. That you will lose. I mourn our loss. I want to reassure you to be strong and fight. Enjoy this happiness and where you are; it will become extremely precious. You are so sweet, beautiful, and bright. You possess so much potential.
    Remember all my words to you and how much more I wish I could say. I can't say you'll be fine or happy because you won't. I can't say you'll love yourself or your family because you won't. I can't say you'll be popular or surrounded by friends because you won't. And I can't say you'll want contentment or life because you won't.
    But what I can say is that you'll travel to all corners of the world. Places you can't even dream of at five. You'll travel to China and walk the Great Wall. You'll travel to Germany and long for it every second you're gone. You'll travel to France and visit Paris, the City of Lights. You'll travel to Holland and visit a city crossed by canals. You'll visit Austria and wander through wealthy streets and beautiful towns. You'll see so much of the world you never dreamed was there.
    I can say that you'll learn languages, communication. You'll share jokes with people in words you never thought you'd understand. Words that spin a golden thread binding you to people in far off lands and monuments and cobbled streets from long ago. You will be forever connected to thousands of worlds and thousands of people and faces and sentences and words and paragraphs you never thought you'd say. You'll hear words and speeches that make you roll with laughter or shake with sobs. All of this from the power of speech and voice. All of this through language and sounds and words.
    I can say that you'll learn. You'll learn as you please, gathering and collecting information as you go along. Remembering bits and snippets of history and people's lives and what they did with them. You'll hunger for more knowledge of long ago princes and princesses, learning their kingdoms and their life. You will possess so much information of the days already gone. I promise. This information on other's lives will fill you up, patching gaps in your heart and soul with the content of another's. You will complete your life by stealing this and that from those you admire and long to know or be. It is glorious in its twisted absurdity.
    And most of all, best of all, I can say that you'll meet a boy. I know boys are foreign and weird right now but just listen. You'll know him for so long and never realize his true worth. But soon you'll realize so much about him is so kind and wonderful and he is everything you need. Believe me you need him. So hold onto him! Please, please do. Because this is a boy who listens to every word you say and doesn't pass judgement. He holds you every time you cry and comforts you for every need you possess. This boy will stand by you and lead you through the darkness when you are blind to the light. He can tell your every feeling and thought and always knows just the right thing to do or say to provide comfort and healing. He helps you through every single moment of crisis and lets you open your heart and your head to him and he loves you all the more for it and that is truly a miracle. He is worth so much more than you give him credit for and he gives you so much unconditional love and patience and kindness. Even when you're a your most infuriating, stuck in your own world of darkness and self pity, refusing to see any good in anything, he will still love you. And you will still love him. As you will forever.
     In summation, I cannot offer you much advice or even a positive look onto the future. You'll be sad and lonely and scared. You'll be stuck so deep down you don't know how to escape and won't want to. You'll be utterly hopeless and horribly confused. But I can offer these few rays of light. The future you face is rough; you'll cry often and hope for terrible things. But there will be times when you smile. And when you do it's all the more sweeter to taste.

Gillian

3rd Time is the Charm

50 mg of sleeping pills down.

So long. Perhaps this time for real.

I'm scared, so scared, but I know it'll be ok. I wish I could tell my boyfriend I love him, Wish I could, wish I could. But he would try to save me. And I don't need saving. I need death.

I want to let someone know. So someone can tell everyone that matters all of the things I wanted them to know. All the things they needed to hear from me. To be content. To know I loved them and maybe didn't appreciate them as much as they deserved.

I want Ben to know. I want him to know I loved him more than anything. That I would be dead since October if not for him. He gave me 6 more glorious months of life. The best times in the middle of the worst. I am so grateful. I love you Ben, I really, really do.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

A Difference in Opinion

He points to a picture of a skeletal, etherial girl and demands, "Is that what you want to look like???"

And I can't get the words out of my mouth that say, "She is beautiful."

"Oh It's That Motherfucking Cat Again. That Damn Cat Scratched Me."

"God, Gillian! What happened to your arm?! People are going to think you cut or something!"

This Current Moment

There's nothing worse than talking to your crying boyfriend,

Convincing him that you won't die tonight,

When the empty sleeping syrup stares you in the face.

Daring you to flatly tell him, monotone,

"I promise, I'm fine."

For Posterity

And if there ever comes a day,
When I don't walk by your side,
Please always remember,
I walk in your heart.

Sleep

And anyways, isn't goodnight just goodbye?

A whole bottle of sleeping pills.

Once again.

I love you.

Goodbye.

Beaded Blood

In a fit or curiosity I took a knife,
A sharp knife,
An artist's knife,
And drew it across my wrist,
The top where freckles speckle my skin.
I drew a line,
A beautiful line,
And then another,
And then once more,
Until I possessed,
Fourteen little red lines,
Criss crossing my skin.
Separate flesh,
I thought softly,
As the blade cut through,
And my veins weeped,
And my body cried out,
Though I stayed silent.

Just When You Thought You Couldn't Get Luckier...

This is just something I wrote last year. It's based off of something that actually happened. It's one of the few stories I've ever finished. All the others remain in some form of half finished melancholy.

A tear slid down her face as she closed the book. She carefully placed it on the shelf next to her bed and pulled the blanket up protectively and looked around at her sparsely decorated bedroom. The walls were white and her bed and wardrobe light pinewood. The only thing of note was a set of floor to ceiling bookcases filled to the brim with books. She picked up the one she had been reading again and looked at the cover. It seemed to mock her with the idyllic picture of the lake and farmhouse. She threw it away from her and it spun through the air bouncing off the wall and settling onto the carpet face up. She looked away with disgust.
             Poor Jesse, poor, poor Jesse. She let another tear drop onto the soft, green fabric of her blanket. She had that hollow sad feeling inside her that she got whenever she read something like that. Desperately sad, a lost love, crushed dreams. She always cried. She felt the need to talk to someone, to ask them Why? Why was it written that way? Why didn’t she go back to him? Why?
            But whom should she call. She didn’t want to call him, her boyfriend. She didn’t actually like him that much but he had chased her and chased her and finally she relented, hoping to get him off her back soon. He was moving away next spring she knew so if she could just weather this winter she wouldn’t have to break up with him herself. He would break up with her first she knew, he wouldn’t want to have one of those long distance things. He thought she would suffer without him, he thought she loved him. She honestly couldn’t care less though, he was something to preoccupy herself with. To forget her last boyfriend who broke her heart and take her mind off school. He was big and had large arms that he loved to hold her with. She hated when he held her.
            But he was literary, she reminded herself; he read just as she did, devouring any book she could get her hands on.  The one she just finished was a reread; she had read it many times before, though the last had been near five years ago. Oh! How she needed someone to talk to! Her cell phone lay next to her. She studied it scrupulously, if she called him now he might think she was warming up to him, he might try harder to get her to love him. On the other hand she was dying to tell someone, and her other friends had surely never read the book. He almost certainly had. She regarded her phone again, she cautiously picked it up. She dialed his number.
            “Hello?” his voice was tired and slow; she had woken him up.
            “Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” Her voice only cracked once.
            “What, my dear?”
            “Have you read Tuck Everlasting?” she repeated, a bit impatiently.
            “Well, yes, though it was quite a few years ago. Why?” he sounded more than a bit confused.
            She sniffed softly then let everything that was pent up burst from her, “Why does Winnie leave Jesse? He loved her! All he did was love her! He loved her to death when he was only seventeen and she eleven! And she squandered his water and then grew up without him! Why?” Her voice had rose in volume and pitch and all of the sudden she was crying, sobbing pitifully, huddled under blankets in her cold bedroom talking to her boyfriend she didn’t even like.
            “Are you crying? Why are you crying? Don’t cry! Dear, Dear, Winnie just didn’t understand, she was too young,” he said the words comfortingly. She imagined him in his house, on his bed, miles away wrapped up in that tartan blanket she had lain on with him a few times before.
            “But what about when she got older, just like Jesse told her ‘When you’re seventeen, Winnie, you can drink it, and then come find us’ why didn’t she do it? She was old enough to understand then,” her words were choked with tears and her nose was running; she wiped it away with the back of her hand.
            “Her feelings just weren’t there anymore, her love for Jesse was six years old by then. Perhaps it went from a wildfire of intensity to just embers sitting in her breast. She probably carried around that faint love for the rest of her life. But I don’t think she was sad, Dear, remember Mae and Tuck saw that she was a mother and a grandmother on her grave. She found someone who loved her that she loved too. Maybe she didn’t like them at first, thinking about Jesse all the time but she grew to love him. She grew straight into his arms. She died happy I’m sure.”
            “Oh, Winnie did, I’m sure! I don’t care about her! She was selfish and unfeeling towards poor Jesse! Oh, poor Jesse!” She cried out, “he doesn’t get a respite with death, no, he has to carry around his despair for eternity! He’s Everlasting! He doesn’t get to forget it all when his body gives out. No! Poor Jesse gets to carry around the knowledge that Winnie left him up until today! Past today! His heart must be broken beyond repair, she left him.”
            “No, No, Dear she didn’t exactly leave him, she just never re-met him. She chose to be human and to have a life, Dear. It’s a question of human or not human, life or nonlife,” he said comfortingly.
            “Nonlife? Jesse was alive! He talked and walked and breathed and loved! He was alive. And how can you say he wasn’t human? He was just as human as Winnie! No, more human than Winnie ever got to be! Jesse was so sweet, so kind to Winnie, he loved her when he had only known her one night. He wanted to spend the infinity with her and she led him on, she left him hoping for near eighty years! Eighty years he hoped and prayed she had drank that water the second she turned seventeen. Eighty years he hoped and prayed she was just out there searching for him just as hard as he was searching for her. No if anyone in that story is inhuman and un-alive it is Winnie Foster,” She felt a smidge of outrage mingle with her anguish.
            “No, Jesse was not alive because to be alive you must die eventually and Jesse will never die. And because of that he, and all of his family too, if I am to be fair, was not human either. All humans die, Dear.”
            She was quiet, thinking this through. She still thought Jesse was human. How could someone so filled to the brim with life, love, and happiness be non-human? It couldn’t be true; her Jesse had to be human. He was just as alive as her sort of boyfriend she talked to now. Actually he kind of reminded her of her boyfriend, so eager and happy constantly. Like the world was a good place to live in.
            “Dear?”
            “Yes,” she answered him.
            “You know I love you, right? No matter how you feel for me, I will always love you,” his voice was strong, like he was trying to push the message through all of the layers of her defenses and straight into her heart.
            “Yes, I know. You’ve told me before,” She was suddenly exhausted. The entire day seemed to pile up behind her and she was suddenly tired. She yawned, “I think I am going to go back to bed.”
            “Ok, Dear, just remember, I love you Everlasting.”
            “Yes, goodnight.”
            “Goodnight,” He hung up and she set the phone down and settled back into her mountain of pillows and blankets.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

Fucking Done with Math

I'm so fucking done with all of this shit. My parents CONSTANTLY nag me about retaking a fucking math test I got a 70 on as if me retesting and getting an 84 will magically bump my grade 7 points to an A. IT'S NOT GOING TO FUCKING HAPPEN. Sorry but no. I'm so fucking done and now my dad is yelling at me in front of Madison, my mom's "wonderhelper" and I'm literally just SO SO SO SO fucking done. no one ever fucking listens to me or even pretends to and I literally can't take it. Just fucking over it.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. my mother just came in and said I should have told her all of this 3 weeks ago. I FUCKING DID! I can't tell you how many times I fucking explained this to you!!! YOU NEVER FUCKING LISTENED TO ME!!! that's the problem! this makes me want to bash my head against a fucking wall!!! you caused me this much stress and anxiety for two whole fucking months as I try to explain that whether I get an 83 or an 85 WILL NOT EFFECT MY GPA and then you have the fucking nerve to come into my room and tell me that i never told you???? Fuck you. just Fuck you fuck you fuck you. I hope you fucking love yourself.

I literally have no words for right now. No words at all.

Fuck you.

Please Do Not Tell Me...

New Medications, The Joys of Anti-Depressants

I've started on an anti-depressant. Lexipro it's called. I went to a psychiatrist on Friday and a therapist today. I vowed I would tell them that I tried to kill myself when they asked but when the question was hanging in the air in front of me, expectant looks on both their faces willing me to tell them exactly how bad it could be or maybe is I just couldn't force the words out of my mouth. They just wouldn't escape and go into being. They stayed in my head and wallowed there as the phrase "No, never" slipped out and my innocent mask flitted over my face, willing them, entreating them to believe me that no no no, I would NEVER actually kill myself! thats just not the type of girl I am. Not that type, not that type. I maybe think about it ok ok, maybe it's always in the back of my mind, I can admit that after a bit of a struggle, but no no no, I just can't tell these complete strangers that yes, I think everything would be better off if I died and just stopped living. Everyone would be happy that way. I know it's true. That maybe if I wasn't such a filthy coward and plucked up my courage I could actually take enough of those sleeping pills and just slip slip slip into the sweet darkness that beckons me so softly. Softly. Softly.

An Invasion of Privacy

And somehow life gets shittier. Two weeks ao my parents read through every text i've sent in the past three months. Oh my god, my ones to Ben, my ones to Becca EVERY THING... oh my god oh my god.

I got in SO much trouble. im so so so so so grounded and have no texting and no contact with Ben and never seeing Becca again outside of school. OH MY GOD.

This has caused me SO much stress and anxiety lately I just can't like I can't even.

I just... I don't even know... My mom and dad went through and read every single text of mine for MONTHS... The ones about my boyfriend and I, the ones between Becca and I, EVERYTHING. I don't even know what to do or say... like what am i... oh my god I don't even know... She came into my room that night and had a 2 hour long discussion with me about everything I had written. Like that I was telling my friends about our fights and I wasn't exactly phrasing them in a nice matter in regards to her and that I slept over at Ben's and that we had drank and smoked and oh my god oh my god oh my god. EVERYTHING..... all the awkward texts I send my boyfriend... all our PRIVATE conversations....... ahhhhhh shit shit shit shit





Like what am I supposed to do????

What You Know When You Know You Will Die

i don't think anyone understands the fragility of life quite like someone who plans on ending theirs. Someone like me, who knows they are going to die soon. I understand that life is extremely fragile, easily broken and impossible to mend. Breaking skin, touching blood and bone and organ, that's all it takes. Humans are more fragile than the typical child's bouncy ball. Or the little girl's doll, or the 100 dollar phone. We break easily. I'm one of the few who try to break it. Try to push push push at the thin barrier between life and death and burst through to the other side, where things must be better. They MUST. because how could anything be worse than the hell I live here on earth.

I've heard this theory that maybe earth is another universe's heaven. That things here are so much better than everything there and that we people are so lucky to get to live such a wonderful life here on earth or heaven or wherever we are because we have happiness and kitty cats and donations and movies and music.

I refuse to believe this. We have starvation, and disease, and hate, and war, and screaming, and suicide, and murder, and violence, and indifference, and oppression, and bullying, and depression, and mental disorders, and horrible car wrecks, and guns, and tragic accidents, and all of this cannot cannot CANNOT amount to heaven.

My guess is that we're living on some other planet's Hell. It's one big joke and the sooner you get out the sooner you can go back to that much much much better world where people are actually happy and kind and caring and sweet. I intend on leaving as soon as humanly possible. I've tried before.

The thing about depression is that though you may have a wonderfully perfect day, the littlest things set you off and leave you struggling to hold yourself together, crying in a little heap. Sometimes I have to physically hold myself in one piece. Wrap my arms around myself and squeeze as tight as I can to ensure that I don't shatter into a thousand glittering pieces. Because sometimes the pain of everything is so bad  feel like I might. That no mortal person could ever hold so much hurt and sadness and pain inside of them without it bursting out like a tidal wave.

Sometimes, when I'm hurting so bad, and crying so hard, and completely listless on the floor of my room I can feel my little heart. It hurts so badly. It's like its under this enormous pressure or is being pricked by one thousand little needles and it just hurts so bad. Traitorous thing. I just want to get a knife and cut it out of my chest and throw it away. It does me no good. It only hurts me more and more.

Oh how I long to cut it out!!!

When I was Little My Parents Told Me...

This poem is so horrifically simple and true.

Boston

In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh it has begun
Dear you look so lost, eyes are red and tears are shed,
This world you must’ve crossed,

 she said

"You don’t know me, you don’t even care,"

She said

"You don’t know me, and you don’t wear my chains,"

Essential yet appealed, carry all your thoughts across

An open field,

When flowers gaze at you, they’re not the only ones who cry

When they see you

She said

"You don’t know me, you don’t even care,"

She said

"You don’t know me, and you don’t wear my chains"

She said

 "I think I’ll go to Boston,

I think I’ll start a new life,

I think I’ll start it over, where no one knows my name,

I’ll get out of California, I’m tired of the weather,

I think I’ll get a lover and fly him out to Spain,

And I think I’ll go to Boston,

I think that I’m just tired

I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind,

I think I need a sunrise, I’m tired of the sunset,

I hear it’s nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice,

You don’t know me, you don’t even care,

Boston, where no one knows my name,

Where no one knows my name,

Boston, no one knows my name."

What Anorexia Really Feels Like To This Particular Person

What Anorexia Feels Like:

• Weakness
• Hatred
• Heartbeats
• Sweat
• Twitching muscles
• Tired
• Can't stop moving my fingers
• Shallow breathing
• Headaches
• Nausea

Let me explain. When I can find where my mother hides them I consume diet pills by the handful. These give me this horrible feeling of dying and living far too fast. My heart pumps so loudly I swear everyone can hear it, I sweat constantly, I can't stop moving my fingers and legs, I wiggle my fingers and touch them rapidly, one after another, to my thumb. My throat gets this horrible feeling of something stuck in it and my head kills me and my leg muscles twitch visibly. It is the most horrible feeling in the entire world and I would wish it on no one. 

Except myself.

In The Dark

It seems nighttime brings out the worst in me. It's when I feel my lowest, my saddest, and all the monsters and demons that live inside my skull creep out from under their rocks and the high ledges and little indents in the ground where they've been cowering away fearing the light of day. They grab at the gauzy edges of the happiness I've amounted that day and slowly, tentatively rip rip rip all the way up until it in two halves. This first destruction emboldens them and all of the sudden there is a frenzy. Ripping, tearing, biting, kicking all around the sheer fabric of my content. Horns and wiry manes twist in and out of the writhing pack and claws and fangs flash through the moonlight. The little creature that sewed the blanket of happiness dances around, "no no no no" and flutters her hands at the destruction of her beautiful work. But there is little she can do, monsters and demons gobble my happiness, leaving me nothing nothing nothing to keep me warm that night. The unholy creatures prance and sing their horrible songs and horrible chants. They rip at the foundations of my sanity, clawing away at ever softer clay that hold up all I count on to keep me going. They sew their own blanket. One thick and black and heavy with hatred and self loathing. Then they find the huddled emaciated figure of myself and throw the thick felt over it, weighing it down with boulders on the corners and bricks on the edges. So I am trapped. And may never get up. When the sun's first rays peek over the dak horizon the creatures scream and scramble back to hiding places, to wait out the day and relive the night. They have cousins to weigh me down during the sun's presence. They may rest. I shall not leave them.

Tonight.

How do I turn out like this? That's what always fly across my head. What in the world did I do to have all these things running through me... Today my parents pulled me from school to make me go to the doctor's for a sign off for blood work and an MRI in their desperate attempt at seeing what's wrong with me. Can't they see it's them? It's how they treat me, how they talk to me, how they never listen to me. It's everything. The ignoring, the faces, the exasperated noises, the whispers, the comments. Everything. It pushes me closer and closer to the edge of this giant, grey cliff sitting at the corner of my mind and when I look down off the edge, thinking Maybe if I jump it'll all end I see pointy rocks and rolling rapids and certain death. And every time they shove me up to the drop with their little finger pokes and massive shoves, I consider jumping. Fuck, I'd like to. But I'm too cowardly. I'd need some way that doesn't hurt, I'm afraid of the pain. Recently I researched into Antifreeze poisoning.  But that's three days of torment. I need something fast. Where I turn out like a light. Switch! and Gillian is gone. Forever. Never to feel the pain of words again. Immune to the daggers flung at her every day. Peaceful. On into the next life.

I believe in reincarnation. I have a real hard time imagining all of the world's dead people galavanting around on clouds in golden sunshine. Eternally. So I believe in something I feel is far more practical. Reincarnation. I grasp on to the desperate hope that I will receive a second chance. To live a happy life. One where I don't cry every night and wish to be dead and beyond everything else. I want that for my next life. Maybe in my last life I killed myself too. Got it all over with and just drew a knife across my own throat. Red blood spurting. Maybe I'll hang myself. Maybe I already did. But I'm scared of that too because I've heard that hurts a lot in the end. Your last few moments in horrible pain. It's not for me. Maybe that's why I've always tried sleeping tablets. To pass away calmly in my sleep. That's all I really want. Painless and unconscious. For once.

Tonight was also so so so so horrible. When I got home no one was there so I sat on the couch with my SAT book. Finally my parents came home and I kind of threw a hello over my shoulder. My mom started immediately yelling because she thought I didn't say hi but I did only she wasn't listening. Then she ignored me apologizing so I repeated it and she glared at me for that. Then she started yelling about how hard her day was, haveing to come with me to the doctors, going to Phillips practice. Then I told her my day wasn't exactly the easiest ever and I mentioned that I passed out. Then she started SCREAMING about that. That if that really happened that I would have made a big deal about it. And then she was just like "I don't want to hear you in my kitchen. This is my house." And I said this is my home too. And my dad just said, no lie, "This isn't your home. You just live here." Why do I even exist. They don't want me or love me or even like me at all. I'm nothing. I'm so so so tired of everything. Just that phrase. "This isn't your home... You just live here." It kills me. It really does.

The Truth

Because all life is just one giant screaming match and slamming my face against a wall.

That and hoping to die.

Today Was Shitty, Like Usual

I'm not entirely sure why I expect anything different from my days. Looked forward to Ben coming over the whole fucking day and its always a question of when he's actually going to arrive and it started out being 6:30 then it was 7 and then 7:30 and when tutoring had ended at that time he hadn't even left the house so when my parents asked when he would be here I told them his mom wasn't home yet so he didn't know and all of the sudden it's "NOPE he's not coming over! I don't give a shit if you've been looking forward to this all day and it's really the only thing keeping you going... NOPE! Why can't you filter this shit and not even ask?" WHY THE ACTUAL FUCK WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? I hope you know I took 10 fucking sleeping pills last night in the hope I wouldn't fucking wake up this morning and I'm sooooooo fucking close to doing it again, except 20 this time and I'll make fucking sure you never have to talk to your shitty daughter again. I hate this house so much and everything that happens in it. I hate my life and the way I live and all your shit you make me go through. And all you do is complain about how fucking ungrateful I am that you sent me to private school and buy me shit and do favors for me. I WOULD TRADE ALL THAT SHIT JUST FOR YOU TO ACTUALLY LOVE ME FOR A SINGLE FUCKING WEK. I really really honestly would. But that's not possible all I get to hear is how shitty a person I am ad how much I've disappointed you and how I'm not trying hard enough. What about the words "I can't take this anymore!" do you not understand because you keep throwing this shit right back at me and just when I think it's over and I'm curled in a ball crying in my room you come in and rub my nose in it a little more because GOD ISN'T THIS FUN?

Well it certainly fucking isn't.

Another Failure

To add to my ever growing list of things I can't fucking do.

In This Moment

And it all comes to a point. A climax. An ultimatum.

In this Moment.

Tears.

Screaming.

Throwing things.

"You deserve everything you get!"

"You treat us like crap!"

"You will never make it to Chapel Hill or Athens!"

"Last semester!"

"NO!"

"HATE!"

And so that leads to

10 sleeping tablets

And Goodbyes

And "I'll miss you."

And "I love you."

And "I'm sorry."

A New Idea

I've decided to write down everything I eat each day. Except not today. Because it would disgust you. I ate so much. So so much. It's gross really. The amount I ate. Would you like me to list it for you? Maybe I will....

Breakfast: Nothing. Like usual.

Lunch: 2 Jellos, 5 kcals; 3 inch sandwich with lettuce, tomato, olives, and sauce, about 300 kcal; chicken noodle soup, 180 kcal

Snack: 2 servings of pad thai, 200 kcal

Dinner: Wienerschnitzel and Spaetzel, waaaaaaay too many calories... like probably over 1000 it was disgusting

I feel gross and fat and soooooo big. I did a bunch of leg exercises today to try and get a thigh gap but they're really fat and droopy and mottled. They're so disgusting.

And that was my day today.

And Life Drags On

In the most peculiar ways.

And takes twists and turns.

You never expected.

But should have foresaw.

And sometimes you're high.

And sometimes you're low.

You scream with happiness.

And die of loneliness.

And no one does a single thing.

Because you're silence.

Silence. 

Silence.

And really does anyone care.

About you.

But the answer is known.

And the answer is no.

Because everything around.

Has problems of its own.

And not a single moment.

To be spent on you.

Because why?

Why?

Why?

First of Many

Today I made my first visit to the therapist my mom has been seeing.

She taught me how to breathe.

 I told her about being depressed since 7th grade and how I don't exactly eat normally and how my mood depends on my current weight and how high it's risen or how far it's dropped.

And I told her that maybe I wasn't a very happy person and I tried not to cry the entire time because whenever I have to tell people these things I always begin to cry and it's like fighting back the whole Persian army to keep the tears in my eyes and off my cheeks because I hate people knowing anything about me that isn't positive, perfect, or a lie.

Because that is how I live and that is where I'm comfortable.

And the woman made soothing noises and told me she's seen everything which doesn't comfort me one bit because I can still feel her judgement and she knows my mother and I  haven't even told her I'm going to die yet. So I don't know why I tell her my secrets because you know what? they're MINE. m. i.n.e and I tell no one else except maybe just a couple few people.

But I really can't stop because everything is so overwhelming I need someone to complain to but GOD I swear the moment I cry in front of her is the moment my dignity is forever gone. So I will not cry for her not today, not next week not ever because if I can hold onto one thing it's my fucking dignity and I. will. not. give. it. up.

But still talking feels good.

And after I breathed real deep and real long and all of the sudden I was calm and clear. And it was a feeling I haven't felt in years I think and I have no effing clue where it came from but at that moment I  felt angels or God or something and it was the weirdest thing ever.

And tonight I still want to die.

The Mongolian Yurt and the Big Orange Cat

Today was noticeably brighter.

For starters, we got a new cat. He is big and orange and has little stripes and spots all over his body and little white paws and a little white face and great big yellow tiger eyes and a dignified way of looking at you that says what have you contributed to the world today? And he purrs in the most contented way because he's lived in a cage at the pound his whole two yeas of living and now he's finally home, home, home.

In a word I love him.

His name is Snickerdoodle Sinclair.

We're divided as to which one to call him. Phillip calls him Snickerdoodle. I call him Sinclair. At the petshop they called him Fizzy.

Right nows he's curled up next to me, purring wheezily and  as if out of breath. It is a perfectly beautiful meow. It's funny how sometimes something so small as an animal can throw bad feelings out of your head and put a little fire in your heart that melts just a teensy bit of the ice. And he's already done that. Even though he's only been here for five hours. And I love him for it.

This morning I had to drive myself to school and I almost had a little panic attack when I passed the Racetack. It was at almost the exact same time that I crashed exactly one week ago. But of course I made it through at a very slow pace and the anxiety almost went away but not really because I was so nervous the rest of the drive and I went so slow and was hyperaware of every single little thing going on around me.

At dinner tonight we started talking about valentines and I suggested to Phillip that we take a picture of him doing the pointing pose and put all sorts of messages above it like "Babe, you're comin home with ME tonight" or "Keep calm and form a line Ladies"and the we were talking about the phrase "go girl!" and gogurt and I said "Or as the mongolians say "Go Yurt" and this set off a slew of yurt related jokes that actually left me laughing.

Right now I'm sitting in bed looking around at all the blankets around me and my Big orange jungle cat licking his paws and for the first time in a long time I think I'm content.  Every darknesss is in a small corner of my mind. Folded up and tucked in tight so they don't show. The  wrinkled corners are peeking out a bit but for right now I'm ignoring then and focusing on Sinclair or Snickerdoodle or Fizzy or whatever this beautiful cat is called and I'm actually quite happy.

The details.

You may have noticed by now I am crazy. I'm not right in the head. I'm cuckoo. Of my rocker. I know this fully. I've accepted it. I understand. Would you like a list of all my problems??? Maybe it will help you get to know me better?

I am anorexic. I did it to myself. I made myself this way. But the irony is I'm horrible at it. See me laughing? I can't even succeed at deprivation. It's funny right? So laugh.

I'm depressed. More than a little. Less than a lot. For maybe four years now? I think that's how long. I fell apart at 13. I stopped functioning like a normal human being and became a shell. I've tried desperately to maybe fill this shell. But no. It's impossible. I am hallow.

I am emotionless. Period.

In some convoluted, tiny, major part of my head I want to die. I think about it all the time. Maybe hanging myself? Or taking a dozen sleeping pills and drifting silently off. But doesn't that rarely work? I hear that rarely works. Maybe I'm just crazy. I am, aren't I?

I have a lot of hatred. All toward myself. To every inch and nook of my body and being. To every thought that crosses my head and every motion my body makes. I hate it. Forever.

I don't fit in. Nowhere. Not in my family. Not with my friends. There is nowhere just for me. Not in this life.

I sometimes believe in a next life. That maybe I'll get another chance at living. To do everything right for a change. Where people love me. Me. I hope.

I was raped.

I write stories. About people with problems living lives I wish I could. Every story is a wish. A wish for a life I could live because it's not filled with the pain mine is. They're all filled with pain. But a lesser pain. And I hope for that. A reprieve.

Who am I?

Well that is certainly a good thing to start with. I'm fairly simple when it comes to plain facts. Its the details that get me. And the nuances.

To begin.

I am 17. At the moment.

My birthday is August 18.

I am 5'5".

I weigh 120 pounds. I hope this will change.

I have red hair. I dye it sometimes. It's very long. To my navel. And curly.

I have dark blue eyes.

Small eyes.

Big nose.

Freckles.

Size 8 1/2 feet.

I speak English and German.

I have a 9 year old brother.

And a 7 year old sister.

And a mother who's an artist.

And a father who's a pilot.

And two cats.

And a rabbit.

And a lizard.

An introduction.

I think this blog is less of a blog and more of a documentation.

A documentation of me.

A 17 year old girl.

Spiraling down.

To crazy.