January 25th. - Retrospective.

Just a tad hypocritical, the both of us.

Listening to: Silence.
Mood: Disappointed. In myself. In others.

Mass post, much?
So, this was the jist of how I was feeling during my holiday.

January 15th.
I haven't been well for a long time. Five, maybe seven years or so. And my memory is terrible, believe me. So it makes it harder for me to remember what life was like before this. I'll be honest, years one through nine of my life are a blur. Sure, there are random snatches of memory. The Christmas when we got a trampoline. The lounge room of my Nan's old house. The phase where I ate nothing but Nutella sandwiches and lemonade. Little pieces or happy moments. You take things like that for granted. But you don't know any better, do you? When you're young, life is easy. At least, it should be. Some kids are lucky and get a happy childhood. And then there are those whose parents split up. Or maybe they get beaten. Or a parent dies. I suppose I'm lucky that for the most part I had an okay childhood. It's just a shame that it's hard to remember sometimes.

It would be easy to blame my dad. Looking at it from the outside, you might. Him leaving could have started the chain of events that made me this way. But I don't know for sure.
A lot of my friends know my life story. Maybe I find it too easy to open up to people. I remember one night when I sat in a room with my boyfriend's best friend and my boyfriend's brother and just poured my heart out. I don't know why it happens so easily for me. It might be the selfishness in me looking for sympathy, and secretly reveling in people's shocked reactions. That's a part of it, I'll admit. I am a selfish person. But mostly I think I just need someone to listen. That talking about my experiences helps me get past them.

I don't know why exactly I do the things I do. I just tend to do them. (And regret it massively afterwards.) I've done some damn stupid things in my life, I can tell you that. Hell, you probably know a few of them. I rang in the New Year doing stupid, stupid things that I regret almost more than anything I've ever done. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life.
And I'm going to be honest. I'm scared. I'm really scared that I can't change. It's not easy. I need to, though.

January 16th.
For as long as I can remember I've been uneasy around men. I have irrational fears that they'll rape me or abuse me. I never liked having male teachers or doctors. It didn't make sense, though. It still doesn't. Even now, I specifically requested a female psychiatrist. For some reason, I just don't trust men.
(To be fair, though, a few have given me reason not to.)
Older men, though. Guys my own age, even a few years older, I'm fine with. But past a certain age they just become scary to me.
In a hypocritical twist, however (or maybe ironic... Eh, it's hard to think of the right word) my best friend in the world right now is male. You should know who you are.
I confuse myself.
I probably confuse everyone.

January 17th.
I think I like being hurt.
Physically, emotionally.
Not fully, but a part of me. Maybe I just like being hurt in certain ways.
I'd rather provoke someone and have them beat me than hurt myself. But I do, anyway. hurt myself that is. Subtly. No scars, no makrs. No one's really any wiser to what I do behind closed doors.
I have trouble breaking skin. I don't like being cut. But punches and slaps and bashing myself with things or against things... I feel like I deserve it, almost. Sometimes I wish i left bigger marks. Maybe then someone would see, and tell me to stop, or try and help me. I don't know if i could do it alone. There's a lot I can't do alone. I want to change. But it's terrifying.

January 19th.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. There's other fish in the sea. But I want THAT fish.

I don't blame him for how I feel right now. But I'd be lying if I said he hasn't contributed. And I'm starting to be a bit scared of what I've become. And the fact that apparently there's nothing I can do.
I think I have too much faith sometimes. But not always, and not always in the right thing. It's not all bad, I suppose. My faith is what's keeping me alive right now.

January 20th.
It's not as easy as everybody seems to think. Grow up, get help, move on, move forward, live your life. It's so much harder, for me at least.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I wish I could be happy that it's easy for some people. I can't, though. It just means that I'm fading quicker, and soon everything I was is dust.

I keep waking up at 6am. If only I could sleep longer. If I could, I would only be awake for a few hours a day. Do the things I need to do, eat, etc and then just sleep my days away.

January 24th.
I had a good day today. I'm back from Queensland, and I spent the day with my best friend.
I feel like an idiot, though. I'm sorry. And you're far too good to me.

I've been trying so hard. At everything. And no one seems to notice. That hurts. But what can I do?

January 19th.

We have internets. But I'm trying to avoid it.

I've been keeping a journal.

I shall do a mass post when I get back.

January 12th.

To be caught adrift.

Listening to: This Modern Love - Bloc Party

Mood: Surprisingly content.

I'm a lot calmer today. Because of a few things.

First off, had a phone marathon with Bas last night that was pretty awesome. Bas is probably the best person at cheering me up, I swear. He just starts talking and I start smiling despite myself.

"It's like a giant Pac-Man. A giant, fiery Pac-Man."

Also, texted/msn'd Brendan a hell of a lot. He's good at cheering me up too. I really miss him.

Also, I think the trip might not be so bad. I underestimated the awesomeness of my grandparents and my cousins. The plans actually seem pretty good.

And then, massive music download.Fuckyeah.

The Automatic make me far too dancey. I think Monster should be my theme song.

Who knows, though. My moods change in seconds sometimes. I just hope there's nothing to provoke me at all.

(Hence why I'm avoiding you.

I love you. But everytime I talk to you i just end up wanting to stab things. Mainly you. Or myself.)

I don't know what will happen with internet access for the next ten days. I'm taking a notebook, so if I can't blog, I'll journal and then do one big post when I get back.

(I'm still wondering if anyone reads this, though. Does anyone?! Comment, fuckers.)

I'm really, really sick of being murderously angry. I'm scared I'll snap soon. Which would really not be good.

I need to learn guitar or piano. Anyone feel like teaching me?

Gah. Back to... Doing nothing, I guess.

January 11th.

The doctors say that once you get a taste of it, you'll keep on cutting.

Listening to: Sex Changes - The Dresden Dolls.
Mood: Frustrated.

First things first, who commented last night?
No point in telling me to come online and talk to you if I don't know who the fuck you are.

So, today will be awesome. Full of...packing. Heh. I'm apparently only allowed one soft bag for ten days. Yeah right. I can fit maybe three days worth of stuff in mine. Luckily Mum also thinks this is ridiculous, so I'll probably get to take my suitcase.
I leave for my father's house around lunch tomorrow, I think. I don't know if I'll get to blog while I'm up there... I know my grandparents have a computer, but I'm not sure if they have the internet yet. I really hope they do, otherwise the whole trip will be utterly insufferable.
(And you'll just keep on having your 'fantastic' holidays. Good for you.)

I also have the feeling that the whole 'trying to stay sober' thing might get tossed out the window while I'm up there. I know my cousin wants to take me out, so that might be okay. I just need to make sure I don't make out with randoms.
I don't know. I have trouble controlling myself when I've been drinking. But the problem is for me, I'm a tad scared of drunk people. (Thanks, Dad.) So when I'm around people that are drinking, I tend to drink. Because when I'm drunk, it's not as bad. I'm one of them. I know these fears are totally irrational.
(But am I ever rational?)

Two people tried to help me last night, but they didn't really help. One just sat there and listened and contributed nothing, and the other just flat-out disagreed with everything I said.
I'm confused as hell right now, cut me some slack. I'm having a lot of trouble making sense of a lot of things.
I wish the things that people say to me didn't affect me so much. then maybe I could get some real answers. About anything.
Like what the fuck is in my head and why won't it leave?
By the way, it was her 7th birthday yesterday. Not that I really care, it's just like...fuck. I've been dealing with this for that long? What's going to happen in the next 7 years?
Am I going to lose myself to her? Or can I beat this?
Some days I think the former, some days the latter. I have no idea. And it's scary. It's really, really scary. And no one knows what it's like.
She tends to make things worse.

You're big enough to stop pretending.

January 10th.

Crashing in the name of science.

Listening to: Astronaut: A Short History of Nearly Nothing - Amanda Palmer.
Mood: Sorry, I really can't think of words to describe it.

(Does anyone even read this anymore?)

I should be angry. I should be really, really angry for a number of reasons. But I find myself coming up with excuses. Defending my offenders.
Which really isn't fair on me, but lucky for them. I'm too numb to be angry. And nobody likes me when I'm angry.
(There's even a term for it, coined by a friend - Ree Wrath. Apparently it's pretty scary. I wouldn't know, I'm too busy being angry to notice how it affects the people I'm angry at.)
I'm sorry, Amanda. Apparently it's not enough to have some love. I wish it was. But I tend to reach for the moon and end up falling. Into a ditch. Filled with rocks.
I guess I am a little angry. I'm angry at myself for not being able to be angry. Which doesn't make sense, but do I ever?
No, I never make sense, I'm too busy being pathetic and crazy. Or passively angry.
(I wonder how many times I can use the word angry in this blog post. Angry angry angry. Annnngrrryyyyy. Keep count, folks. Record attempt, maybe?)
It's times like this I wish I had a piano. A real piano, and some fucking privacy. Or maybe just some Dozile. That shit is good, it knocks me out for like, 12 hours. Unfortunately Mum's hidden them from me now, but maybe I can pick some up from the chemist...

I'm not looking forward to going away. Not. At. All. But I can't back out now. Even though Dad's said he doesn't want me being miserable the whole time.
Conversation from earlier today:

Dad: "You better not be like this when we go to Queensland or I'm not taking you."
Me: "You don't have to take me."
Dad: "I want to. So you better cheer up."
Me: "Not likely."
Dad: "Well, too bad."

Hooray for punishment.

I know sitting around being a sad sack is doing nothing for me. But unfortunately, NOTHING I DO IS GOING TO DO ANYTHING.
(Well, at least that's what you said.)
So what's the point in doing anything? Nothing is going to make anything better. I could change completely, become a much better person. I know I could do that. I was already on my fucking way.
But no.
And so, I'm just trapped in my house, gradually disappearing.

And is it getting easy not to care?


(You know what, feel free to comment and tell me what to do, if you feel the need. I know I'm being an idiot right now. I may rant a lot but I'm not totally stupid. Just a bit lost. Who knows, I may follow your advice.)