umm..

SIGH

BIG

FUCKING SIGH

 

i kind of broke up with him. but not really. i think we concluded that we’re both going to both out and sort ourselves out and decide what we’re doing. It’s scary. it’s sad. its exciting. i can get my life on track. no distractions. not emotional involvement. it’s a learning process i guess.

it feels so weird. i feel sick really. all this time with someone. everything we’ve been through.

 

😦

 

i don’t know. he’s just not man enough. but i don’t know if i care now.

oohhh what am i supposed to do.

i don’t like the way he walks

and the shape of his head.

 

im insane.

 

fskgarfiahfluaijfiwjfafkwfj

i told my boyfriend that i wanted to show him my blog. but that he might hate me and think I’m insane. and get upset. 

he asked why

i said because its my inner most thoughts. the deepest shit. stuff that people shouldn’t really see or read. 

he said “well done, i don’t want to see it now”

 

WHAT!?

FUCKING WHAT!?

 

if it was me, and someone offered me a glimpse into their mind, especially if it was someone i love and want to be with i would jump at the chance and be like YES YES YES

YES SHOW ME!

and id read it. and analyse it. 

what the fuck

how can he not want to? 

that just pisses me off. so much. i mean. not just that he doesn’t care. but the fact that he’s like that. that he doesn’t want to. how can you not want to!?

i started writing a list of all the things i don’t like about him today. 

it was getting long. i stopped before i had chance to finish. 

i scrunched it up.”fuck this” 

i turned around and saw a pros and cons list about something else that my dad had made and threw in the bin. 

i sort of had to laugh at it. there i was. in his office. in his seat. writing a cons list. just like him 

I THINK IM gonna do it now. again. 

this is everything i dislike about him:

1. style – non-existant. i wish he would dress better. and had better hair. and better glasses.

2. his eyebrows.

3. he speaks so quiet in public. and when i say ‘speak louder i can’t hear you’ he gets annoyed/embarrassed and says ‘i don’t want everyone to hear me’. i can’t hear him. so i just don’t listen. it’s usually not interesting anyway. 

4. he’s not confident enough. i don’t want an arrogant bastard. i just want someone who can handle being introduced to my friends and family. and even win them over with their charm. 

5. he’s not rich enough. it matters. 

6. he’s crap at massages and moans if i ask for one and does it for 2 seconds and crappily. 

7. he’s not on it. i have to make all the phone calls about shit. if i ask him he’s like ‘ooojhhhh ‘ 

8. he has a different voice to speak to his parents. he turns really really really english. and really like ‘mm right, yes’. FRUSTRATION! 

9. he talks about his exes ALLLLL THE TIME. he even called me one of their names once. it was near the start of our relationship. i kind of just laughed it off mostly because i kept wanting to call him the wrong name too. but come the fuck on. i don’t give a shit about ur cunting exes. 

10. he gets stressed and moody too much. 

11. he’s not ambitious enough

12. he’s too atheist… and yes you can be “too” atheist. somehow. 

13. he’s not tall enough

14. he’s too white

15. he’s not got a nice body 

16.  i don’t like those few strangely hairs on his chest 

17. his nose is greasy and has a billion white heads that i just always want to squeeze 

18. he  isn’t passionate enough

19. boring 

20. doesn’t have interesting shit to tell me. i can’t have debates with him. i end up just having one out loud to myself while he listens and goes ‘don’t say it so loud in public’ 

21. he’s not tidy 

22. his beard is ginger. my dad had ginger hair. if we ever have kids. they’d probably be ginger. 

23. his family are so. normal. and english. and repressed. and soooo normal and middle class. and his mum doesn’t like going on holiday. holiday is going in the car somewhere a few hours away. 

OMGG OM GOM GOM GOM OGMOMGOMGOMOGOMGOMGOMOGOGMOMGOMGOGOMOGMOGMOMGOMGOMGOMG

sometimes. i meet people. and i think. you’re really nice. i really like you. but there’s no way that this wil ever work. 

yet i allow myself to fall in love and be swept away, only later, once the honey moon period is over, to realise that i was right in the beginning and now it must end btu I’m too emotionally involved and am going to get hurt. 

i also don’t really want to hurt him. but. 

i just can’t stay with him i don’t think. maybe this is why i feel so shit. coz I’ve been trying to stop myself from thinking that. that i should just break up with him 

i don’t know if definitely want to though. but i don’t want to drag it out. i don’t want to waste time. 

the other thing i don’t like 

24. he keeps saying stuff like ‘are you coming back?’ – when i was leaving to go visit my family. he said it. several times. he keeps asking me still. it’s like – just the fact that you think that. and that you doubt that i’m coming back makes me NOT want to come back. 

i really. i have no desire to go back. not even for my cat. fuck him. that cat is a bastard. he whines. he doesn’t let me pick him up or stroke him. he never sits on my lap. he just whines and eats like a pig and gets fluff EVERYWHERE. and his shit STINKS. and sometimes he gets it stuck in his fur and we have to wash his ass. 

 

sometimes i just can’t believe i allowed myself to start this relationship. i remember going round to his house to see him and just thought ‘oh god, no way’. i tried avoiding him a bit and he knew why. but i was trying to be nice and be like ‘no no no i like you’ and then. next thing you know its over a year later and I’m like ‘what have i done for the past year?”

got high. cried a lot. did something really bad that i think about and feel sick about all the time. i just hate my life so much. i don’t know why i get into relationships. i don’t even like relationships. i think i just get so lonely and like the attention and the confidence it gives me. and i mean he’s really nice. he’s the closet i’ve got to the perfect guy for me. but he’s just not good enough. and i don’t think he’s willing to fight for it. 

he said “i’m here, if you want to be with me”. what kind of attitude is that. why isn’t he being a man about it?

why can’t he be my knight in shining armour. 

my sister has met an incredible man. wow. the only thing wrong with him is that he’s not from a ‘good family’. but wow. what an incredible man he is. he’s inspirational and motivating. without even trying to be 

i see them. 

and i see me and my boyfriend. 

and i think – there is just no comparison. and even my boyfriend knows it. he’s like ‘ohhh your sisters boyfriend is gonna make me look bad blah balh blah’ it’s like – if you fucking know that then why don’t you fucking doing something about it? 

he said to me, “I’m never gonna be good enough, I’m never going to be what your family want me to be”

when guys say that to me all i think is ‘why the fuck am i with you then?”

i think that concludes it. i have to break up with him.

i feel sick.

but also excited.

and scared and nervous.

i have to. for my sanity.

 

im gonna write what i like about him just for peace of mind.

1. he’s kind to me. 

2. i trust him – i don’t think he’s going to cheat on me.

3. he gives good hugs

4. he’s good at sex

5. i think he cares about me which is nice. 

6. he’s quite good at cooking

7. he helps with the house work. 

8. his family and friends are nice….but sometimes nice just isn’t enough. 

9. he’s the most good-looking guy i’ve dated. but. i mean. that doesn’t really say much (why do i do these things to myself? why do i get involved with people i don’t even like!? why!? coz I’m scared to hurt their fucking feelings. what an idiot i am) 

10. … im struggling to think of anymore reasons why i like him. 

i don’t even miss him. i don’t miss someone hugging me all the time. or kissing me. or telling me they love me. 

i don’t care. 

i wish he was better. it’d make life so much easier. why can’t he be better? why can’t he be the man who provides and all that shit. 

he wants me to stay with him in a city that i don’t even want to be in. i don’t even know if i want to be with him. 

but he doesn’t want to pay – and if he does pay rent he only wants to pay a tiny proportion of it. 

how is this fair?
i keep saying we should just move home till i figure out what I’m doing. he doesn’t want to. and so he wants me to pay for most/all the rent. be with him. and be in a place away from everyone i know.

what the fuck am i supposed to tell him?

I’m going to go figure it out.

 

fortune tellers.

last night i got drunk. not drunk enough. i felt sick. gross. i still feel sick. i had shots. 

and then i got hungry coz i hadn’t eaten anything all day. so we went to this pizza place run by this big mama italian woman. it was good but after about 3 bites i was stuffed and couldn’t eat and wanted to barf everywhere. 

meh. 

i woke up and read all the posts i’ve written. I’m considering exposing myself and showing it people. why am i so scared? coz they’ll get hurt. coz they’ll think I’m fucking insane and want to run far far away from me? or coz i’m scared that they’ll suddenly know me – not bad – but bad. coz i’m not “me” with people. not really. i mean i have little things i’ll do and say which are ‘me’ but they don’t know this side of me. the side i like to call the real me.
i hide it. all the time. always. its not even a conscious decision most of the time. i just do it. i just behave in a way that is supposedly ‘normal’ and ‘acceptable’. it’d be weird if they read this but then i continued to just be the other way in front of them. it’d be like.. I’m suddenly exposed so i have to suddenly act a different way. it’d be awkward and scary and weird and i feel really sick. 

all i really want to do is just go with my impulses. yesterday we walked past this ice-cream machine – the one where you pull the lever down and ice-cream comes out.
i wanted to pull it. so bad. i really wanted to pull it. and even maybe stick my mouth under it. i really really really really did.  

but i didn’t. 

 

that basically sums up my life. 

i wanted to do something. but i didn’t. probably because someone told me no. 

and now. i don’t want to do anything. 

i still wanna do film. i don’t want to find out which school or where i want to do it. i just want to do it. 

mehhhhhhhhhhhh

 

i feel like listening to die die my darling. 

not because i want anyone to die. i just want my thoughts to die. a little bit. the bad ones. at least. the ones that i hate but are also so dear to me. 

anyway. I’m enjoying myself here. the sun and the pool and the beach. and the chilledness and my bed and the food (when I’m eating) and my own space! i can be in my room typing or changing or singing or doing my hair and no one interrupts me – sometimes but not that much. i can sit here and cry and no one has to know or care. and once i’m done think ‘ok ok..im ok.. you’re ok..it’s fine..chill now..ok..its ok’. and i breath in a few times. and everything is fine again. i continue. no one asks questions or has to look at me like ‘god. you were crying 10 mins ago and now you’re fine and laughing and singing and dancing around’. 

i hate people knowing I’m sad. hate it. 

i went to this crazy woman once in the middle east.

she sits you down in front of her on the floor. she’s fat and rolls around like one of those bobo dolls. she inhales really deep through her mouth and closes her eyes. and then she changes. she becomes you. 
she became me. she was still. she looked like she had a deep sadness in her but was strong and composed on the outside.
she said “you’re brain is like a computer. you’re very smart. you can do anything you want. very smart. like a computer. your brain works so fast. it’s so complex. it’s very organised”

i stayed sitting there, silent.

she paused and then continued “when you’re sad, you hide and cry alone. you don’t tell anyone”
my mum and sisters were there too.
my face went red. and i felt like bursting into tears. I smiled and half nodded. a sort of ‘yeah but lets move on, lets not discuss this”
i wanted to know what else she was going to say but my mother butted in, “who is she going to marry!?”
“mmmmmeeee mmmmiiii maaaa mmmmmmmsss mmmmm miiiihhhhh mkkkkkkhhhh kkkhhhh!!’

my mum shouted out different names. non of them really struck her. 
then the woman said “the thin one not the fat one” 

and that was it.

she died not long after. 

 

I’ve been to a few other ‘fortune tellers’ – more for curiosity of what they’ll say rather than for guidance and believing it. 

two things i’ve always been told – ‘you take on others shit too much’ (i reworded it obviously) and ‘you’re gonna have two lovers and be stuck deciding between them’ 

great. more fucking hard decisions -i always worry about that. that i’ll get stuck deciding between two guys. how gross and horrible and it makes me want to vomit everywhere. 

other things i’ve been told:

“you’re made for the stage” – yeah. I’m sure you tell all the young girls that. however – i would love to be on stage. musicals. opera singing. making movies. would LOVE it. don’t do it – no confidence, discouraged by others, i have this retarded shyness but i can perf, don’t know how to find out about auditions and can’t be bothered to find out because i probably won’t go. want to do movies. continuously discouraged.

“you’re very evolved” – well. i mean. i am a homo sapien. so yes. i do have wisdom teeth missing and i still have baby teeth with no adult ones underneath – i guess that’s some kind of evolved shit maybe? depends on how you want to view evolution and all that. whether you take a Lamarckian stance or whether you believe purely in the logic of chance.

“someone is going to be in hospital” – it’s been said a few times. but really. how much of a generic statement is that? i used to worry that they meant my dad. but now i worry that they meant me. 

they always tell me about my ‘near future’ and then they all seem to say ‘something is going to happen. it’s going to be a very confusing time, it’s a bit fuzzy. but after that everything will work out and you’ll marry someone your parents will like’

 

sometimes i feel thats the way my life is going.

my mum is telling me not to swim while there is no one in the house. ‘don’t dive. sometimes when swimmers dive and there is no one around they die’

 

her paranoia and scared-of-everything attitude has affected my life so bad. i hate it. 

sometimes i wish i had cooler parents. who were wild and taught me important and relevant stuff. who could give me a positive attitude. who i could go to and tell everything to. who would be fine with me having boyfriends and living with them. who wouldn’t continually criticise and nag and moan and whine.

 i wish that they just fucking wore protection.

i was the mistake child. ha. my only role in life is making everyone else happy. 

I HATE IT. i really do. coz I’m so emotionless towards it. i don’t give a shit. i’m just like ‘well. i can’t be happy so may as well do something for you coz you actually care’ 

inside I’m so ‘meh’ – so emotionless about it. on the outside i do it with a smile and go ‘of course i’ll do that for you! whatever you want! I’m happy to’
just some rehearsed lines. just some shit i’m SUPPOSED to say.

maybe i should just be an actress. i don’t want to be. i don’t want to be famous. i don’t want people to know who i am. 

oh maybe i should have said ‘actor’ coz apparently ‘actress’ is ‘politically incorrect’ now. I FUCKING HATE THAT TERM. FUCK POLITCAL CORRECTNESS. 

seriously. ‘you can’t say mental disorder anymore. it’s mental health issue’. i’d rather had a disorder than an ‘issue’. 

fucking hell. 

HAS THE WHOLE WORLD GONE CRAZY!?

I often feel like walter from the big lebowski. i often feel like just pulling out a gun and screaming at everyone. 

i won’t though. i’ll just be pathetic retard here in the corner. wishing, waiting, wondering.

nothing relieves this feeling. drugs have stopped working and anyway i hate them. i don’t want to take drugs. drinking if fun for about half an hour then i feel sick and get a headache and want to go home to bed. 

smoking. is gross. the taste makes me want to throw up. 

meditation – what a gay fucking shit thing. I tried it several times. fell asleep. 

exercise and yoga and all that – yeah, if i could get the fucking energy and motivation to do it. 

everyones gone out.

IM HOME ALONE

OMG!!!!!!!

got to topless sunbathe and swim while no one is here. 

bye

lights, camera, action

so. 

thinking about film school.

yup.

that’s right. and no. i don’t expect to become fuckin steven stielburg. or david lynch. or anyone.

i just wanna do it. i’ve always loved movies. more than music. i love the imagery. the angles. the shots. the emotions the everything. i watch so many. as a kid thats all i did. 

i dropped out from my doing my first degree because i wanted to go to do. i told everyone i was leaving to go do film. 

but i didn’t. 

my family yelled at me and told me not to be stupid. 

i even just told my friend and boyfriend. 

reactions? “aww heehee” and “you don’t have a camera. when you’re done you’ll just be confused again”

 

great. fucking great.

fucking thanks. 

 

i’m thinking about just dying again now. 

 

i think i’d be good. 

im so fucked up i’d make awesome movies. i write a lot already. i’ve been working on something for a while but haven’t looked at it in ages.  because i have no fucking space to go and write. i get very emotional. i sometimes cry when i write. and i can’t have someone knowing I’m writing because then my ideas go. and also. they can’t read it at all. not until it’s done. and i have zero privacy so hence no writing. 

but i actually like what i’ve written for once. 

i always have ideas. i always see things and think ‘that should be in a movie’ 

i always look at the the big picture as well as all the tiniest details. i notice the curtains they have in movies. 

and plus i’ll be in charge. i’ll tell people what to do. i like that. they don’t have to like me. i don’t give a shit. its not about big centre of attention. its about control. and being able to do what i want. and telling others what to do. coz people are retarded. they must be told. 

so. 

yeah.

THANKS FOR YOUR FUCKING SUPPORT CUNTS! 

yeah. 

film school is expensive though. and daddy ain’t gonna pay. mama neither. 

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

i hate life

i want to die now. 

i asked god to give me a sign today. i cried and sat on the sofa and begged. please. please please. 

nothing happened. 

that kind of makes me happy in a way. 

but also scared. 

it means i’m more likely to actually do it. if theres nothing to fear. then there’s nothing substantial holding me back. 

I’m really considering eating all the pills in this house. 

i dreamt i overdosed on antihistamine last night. and i was spewing this weird white foam. what does that mean? 

what does anything fucking mean. 

i really hate everyone.

I’m going to get very drunk tonight.

 

i justified film school by saying – i got nothing else going on, i always wanted to, i may as well while i’m still young enough.

i really

fucking

hate them

“yeh yeh we love you we’ll support you in whatever you do”

go fuck off and die you fucking liars.

fuck you all. go die. i really don’t care. 

 

i honestly don’t though. that scares me a bit. if they died. i’d just be like ‘shit. oh well’ 

i never cried when anyone died so far. my grandpa died and i cried but only because i thought i had to and thats what you were meant to do. 

i feel like just going ‘well i don’t give a shit what you do. I’m going’ 

why can’t i be that heartless when i feel it inside? why can’t it just come out of me? why can’t i just say it?
all this stuff I’m writing.

why can’t i say it to others? even if I’m typing to them. i can’t. it’s like. some mental block. i can’t talk if I’m sad. my throat closes up. nothing comes out. i can’t even think of things to say.

 

i hate it.

 

why is film school a bad idea? i mean. i don’t expect anything to come of it. if it does – fuck yeah! if it doesn’t – i learnt some stuff. i met some people. i’ll know that ‘ok it’s not for me’.

thats not bad.

 

instead of getting old and regretting it.

 

fuck em

im gonna do it

 

the issue is just choosing where. and how to get money for it. 

 

i really hate life. so much.

 

 

 

A fire without oxygen

It’s Bastille Day today, AKA French Independence day. And I, conveniently, am in France. As I have been for most July 14th since conception (gross).

Anyway 

I have to be quick because I have to get ready and do my hair because we’re going to go watch the fireworks. Even though that doesn’t happen for another four hours, it takes a while to get there and we are meeting people etc..etc.. so I only have 1 hour to get ready. And my hair takes forever because it’s wild.

This is not relevant. 

Anyway, the past couple days I’ve been TRYING to be more upbeat etc.. I was alright. I’m trying to just think to myself that I have to stop worrying about the future and what I’m going to do and where I’m going to be etc..etc.. and just go with the flow. 

But i’m not a flowy kind of person. I’m fire. Maybe just knowing that I’m an Aries and a fire sign makes me think I’m fire. But I feel like fire regardless of whether the decision has been influenced by merely knowing that I am a fire sign. 

How do I feel like fire? I feel like I am mostly useful and good. I can provide warmth and happiness to people. I can be in the centre while they surround me and enjoy themselves, singing songs and melting marshmallows. While I sit there burning brightly but quietly. I don’t have to do or say or be much. I just have to be. 
I also feel that I could be quite disastrous – if I wanted. Though I have an evil guilty conscious- it’s so bad that it’s drowning me. I wish my guilt conscious would just BACK THE FUCK OFF!

I feel like my flame is just sort of barely there. There’s not very much light. I’m barely burning.

I feel so confused. I can’t help not “going with the flow”. It just seems to..naive. To think everything will just work out if I just chill out and take it step by step.
i can’t. I’m a planner. I have to make logic decisions. I like working with numbers and I like solving problems. I do logic puzzles all the time.

Maybe I should go to Japan and just do Japanese logic puzzles all day and watch anime. 

I think I’d hate it. I hate sushi. and weird gross food with bugs in them. I hate busy crazy crowds and people rushing around me. 

Maybe not Tokyo then. 

But i’m scared of earthquakes and volcanoes. 

But I’ve always had a thing for Japanese men. Plus Japanese babies – the cutest. 

I don’t even know if I want kids

Infact I don’t even know ANYTHING. I don’t know what I want. For the first time in my life! I hate it. 

I hate that I feel so aimless. so goaless. that i have no passion for anything. even music. it’s just like ‘yeh put this song on its fun to dance around to’ or ‘it’s nice to sing’. that’s all i judge music by these days. i don’t even care! 

i don’t care that i blow my nose on my towel. i don’t care that my cold wet hair is dripping on my shoulder. i don’t care that my back feels a bit sun burnt. i don’t care that my sister and my cousin are coming home soon and are gonna see me in my towel crying. 

I DONT CARE

i don’t like anything. but i like everything. 

i don’t want anything. but i want everything. 

i don’t like anyone. but i like everyone. 

WHY AM SUCH A FUCKING OXYMORON!?

maybe I’m just a moron. 

SOMEONE HELP ME!!! 

maybe i need a lobotomy. 

i don’t want one. 

i tried to explain to my boyfriend that he’s probably better without me coz he gets more done without me. 

but he just said it’s not true. 

how can i not know what i want!? i just can’t believe. all i know is that when i start feeling like this, this blog is my place to go. it’s just like QUICK I NEED TO TYPE EVERYTHING POSSIBLE IN MY OWN HEAD AS FAST AS POSSIBLE! 

there’s probably a lot of typos. tho i delete and correct just as quick as i type. 

ah. 

god. 

and what makes it worse is that I’M SO LUCKY. i am. not only do i have all my limbs, all my organs work, all my senses work (i need lenses/glasses but i’m lucky enough to be in a situation where i can get those easily). 

I’m lucky to have a family that is there. who welcomes me home with open arms. they even want me there all the time. who support me financially. who care about me. who want the best for me. 

and I’m so lucky that i am in a position where i can do ANYTHING I WANTED. anything. i could do literally anything. 

maybe not having boundaries just makes it harder to choose. what a fucking spoilt brat shit thing to say. 

but it’s true. maybe I’m just a spoilt brat who needs a big fat slap and someone to go ‘stop fucking whining u spoilt cunt and get a job and deal with life like the rest of the world!’ 

i tell myself that a lot. just to get on with life. just live it. just get a job. who cares where you are if you like it or not. 

but knowing that. knowing that i have a lot and knowing that i could do pretty much anything. and yet I’m still so fucking depressed. 

in a way. it makes it worse. why can’t i just be happy that i have all of this!? why does anything else matter? why am i so fucking miserable!? why don’t i have any aim? why don’t i have passion?
why am i suffocating in my own thoughts? 

 

i just. 

 

i just don’t know anymore. what am i going to do? 

is that I’m scared that this guy will give me a life that is so. mediocre. normal house. normal job. normal food. normal holidays. normal friends.

i don’t know normal. i’ve never done normal. by normal i think i use mean middle class and average and so. you know. the stereotype of each country. the normal. 

i never had a normal house – i grew up in a mansion. with a second house abroad.

i never have a normal job – i had jobs while i was travelling. just temporary shit. hated it. 

i’ve had normal food but it was always at friends house or when my mum/myself wanted a break from cooking we’d have a ‘treat’ and have fish and chips or pizza or spaghetti or something. i’ve eaten at some of the best restaurants in the world. and also some of the worst. i’ve not really ever been ‘normal’

normal holidays – rarely happened. only with friends maybe. and even then it wasn’t the typical thing. 

normal friends – ha! yeah fucking right. rejects and weirdos. who half the time i didn’t even like. it was just someone to hang out with. 

 

maybe I’m just scared of normal. but at the same time it would be so nice to live in a normal house and have normal friends and invite them round and have an normal dinner where we chat about normal stuff. 

i don’t really know how to do normal though. i feel so. awkward and out of place amongst norms.

and also. do i even want normal!? why should i settle for normal? why shouldn’t i go live abroad? why shouldn’t i have a big nice house? why shouldn’t i have a boat? why shouldn’t i have extraordinary friends who i’m not sure if i really like but are so weird and intriguing? 

 

why don’t i just fuck off to the carribean and get drunk and hook up with some sexy muscly guy? fuck guys. i can’t be bothered with sex and knowing people and relationships. maybe thats my problem. that i just don’t want a relationship. 

i feel so emotionless. i just sometimes feel depressed and cry. or otherwise i feel blank. or ..occasionally I am hyper. i sing and dance around and talk fast and get excited and my pupils dilate and i feel so good and happy and like I’m fucking ruler of the universe. 

maybe I’m just very mentally fucked up. maybe i need special drugs and professional help. 

i don’t want either. i don’t. i just want to have an aim in life. to know what i want. that’s all. 

i just want to like things. and have an opinion and not have to not know stuff. 

maybe i should forget wants. and just focus on needs. 

i need food. got it. 

i need water. got it 

i need shelter. got it. 

 

so. maybe i should just die now. i have everything i need. what else is the bloody fucking cunting bastard shit faced point!?

WHAT IS THE POINT!?!?!? TELL MEEEEEE FUCKING STRIKE ME DOWN WITH LIGHTNING AND BLOODY GIVE ME AN ANSWER! 

GODD!?!?!?! DO YOU EXIST!? WHAT THE FUCK!? WHY AM I GOING INSANE!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!? 

 

fuckin hell. man. 

maybe I’ve just smoked way too much weed. 

that probably doesn’t help but I’ve been this way since i can remember. a fucking weirdo. that’s all i am. sometimes i like to dress funny. and i say ‘i feel so funny. so I’m gonna dress funny’ and then people look at me funny. and I’m like ‘whats their fucking problem?”

my boyfriend tells me he misses me. i want to say it back. i want to miss him. but i feel nothing! 

I JUST FEEL SAD AND CONFUSED AND AWKWARD AND WANT TO HIDE AND RUN AND HIDE AND DIE! 

😦 

maybe i should just take a shit load of drugs. if i die. i die.

if i don’t. and someone finds me. and takes me to hospital. then i live and i continue with life.

im so sick of giving life a chance . maybe it’s time to give death one? 

 

 

 

Bathroom Hideout part 2

I’m having horrible stomach problems today. I was really depressed last night. I slept at about 4am and spent a while crying. I can’t help it. i just sit there with a blank expression on my face and tears come streaming down my face. Sometimes after I eat I just have to go to the toilet straight away. Today though, we ate out. And the toilet was such that people in the restaurant would have heard me. And so. somehow i managed to just hold it. And now. I’m on the toilet again. 3rd time today. I really have a bad stomach. It’s been going on like this for months. I’ve been really depressed for months. The doctors didn’t help. one of them gave me a prescription for anti-spasmodic pills for my stomach cramps. I threw it away. I’ll just deal with it. 

 

I wish mania happened more often. It’s fun. I like that I’m bipolar. I diagnosed myself but a. i have a psychology degree b. i read a lot and i’m 92.3451% sure that I am bipolar. 
Sometimes I can switch in seconds. I can be wanting to scratch/dig my nails deep into my wrists (cutting leaves scars..scars lead to questions..questions lead to having to explain stuff I don’t want to have to explain) and crying and wanting life to be over. Then next minute I can be like I AM THE WORLD’S GREATEST! I CAN DO EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING AND I’M GONNA DO IT! WHY THE FUCK NOT!?

I did a personality test. Apparently I have the rarest type in the world. Einstein, Newton and Darwin have been studied as such that they have been given the same personality type. The difference between me and them is that by my age they were achieving shit. Why haven’t i achieved shit? 

I can’t dedicate myself to anything. I’m not even sure I want to dedicate myself to my boyfriend. I think i love him. I definitely did. We clicked. He’s so so good to me. He’s there for me. I trust him completely. We laugh all the time and never argue. We have serious conversations too and we can open up to each other and cry in front of each other and poop in front of each other. and the sex is amazing.  It’s not as wild or passionate as I would hope for but its the best i’ve ever had.
 It’s not that I don’t love him or that I don’t want to be with him. I just don’t want to be with anyone. I’m better alone. I achieve WAY more. I get on with life. Maybe its just that I have the space to myself and at the moment, living in a small apartment where we work, eat, have sex, watch tv and hang out in the same room. It’s SO FUCKING STRESSFUL.
there’s a lot of stuff everywhere. his stuff. his work stuff. i hate stuff. i wish i had less stuff. and then i think ‘i should just enjoy whats available to me’ but then i hate it too. 

i think the problem is that i want to just get away and get on with life and be able to go to different places and not have to worry about someone else. if i was single i’d just go and do it without question. but because I’m in a relationship. what am i meant to do? he can’t afford to pay the whole rent himself. i don’t want to have to rent a place if I’m not even there. i guess i could always just go for a couple of weeks. 
where am i even going anyway? i don’t know.

i don’t know what to do.

my mum and sister and i came up with a business idea at lunch. it’s one i’ve already thought and one which my boyfriend has suggested to me – to set up a cake business. I bake incredible cakes (though there is one i haven’t mastered yet..) 

it’s not a bad idea. i would do it. i think the issue is not how/when/do i want to and all the things that make setting up a business hard. it’s WHERE?!

my parents want me to live at home with them. It means i don’t have to pay rent, and I would be able to set up a business there easily. We have land and an empty barn which I could do up into a professional working kitchen. 

My boyfriend wants me to live with him. And staying with him means not living in the same city as my parents because if I did they would make me (not literally force but there’d be a lot of arguing and upset people) live at home. i wouldn’t be able to just live with my boyfriend because it “goes against their beliefs”. I’m supposed to stay “pure” (naive) until marriage.
i’m sure my mum knows that i’m not. but i keep up the act that i am.
But

the problem is not that i don’t want to live at home. and it’s not that i don’t want to live with my boyfriends.
its just that. i don’t know where i want to be. I don’t really want to stay in the same place i’m at now. I have no friends there. i have nothing there. i have a reflexologist who is great. but that’s about it. 

why am i living in this city where i have no one but my boyfriend? i was there for my masters but i’ve dropped out. 
he wants to stay coz it’s close to his parents house (he needs to go back now and then to cut some wood for his work coz obviously he can’t just sit cutting wood in our apartment).
i don’t even know if i want to be in the country! the weather SUCKKKSSSSS!!!!! the accents SUCK! the people SUCK! the food SUCKS!

apart from that it’s alright.

but really i think for me the biggest things are the weather, the people (just the general atmosphere and the general way of life and thinking etc..), and the food.

if i have those things good i’m not really bothered about the rest.

but i’ve been around the world and i’ve never been anywhere that i’ve fallen in love with completely. Not in a way that I could live there. I love new york. but i don’t want to live there. it’d be better than london tho. I HATE LONDON SO MUCH! it’s so stressful. SO stressful and the people are such DICKS!!!!!!!!! what cunts! they walk past you and bump into you HARD! and they don’t even stop for a second to turn around and say sorry or see who they hit they just continue like GET THE FUCK OUT MY WAY. god!! WAKE UP! GET OUT OF YOUR FUCKING RAT RACE AND FUCKING CHILL OUT AND STOP! JUST STOP! 

i can’t. i just can’t do london. I need peace i need serene settings, i need people who are PEOPLE not fucking robot workers. I need people who don’t dress like dickheads and hang around the east end thinking they’re the coolest most original shit. HELLOOOOOOO!!!?!??!?! theres about 234823048290481904 other people who look and dress and talk and think and act JUST LIKE YOU! 

fuckin hell. 

fuck. i just. i just don’t really like england. its even weird to me that my boyfriend is english. the english are so. obedient. its like FUCKKKKKKKK JUST BREAK THE FUCKING RULES IT DOESNT MATTER!
like i want to take a left turn and I’m not really meant to. but its late and no one is around. I’m going to take that fucking left turn.

and if someone is in my car and they go “oohh nooo you caaarrrnnn’t doooo that!” i literally just want to punch the fuck out of them and say YES I FUCKING CAN. AND I FUCKING DID YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACEEEEEE!
ITS SO FRUSTRATING

the way they stand in their fucking lines and the other is empty. and yes. i will fucking go in the other line even if i’ve just arrived and other people have been waiting hours.

how fucking stupid do you have to be?! “no i’m not doing that it’s rude” FUCK RUDE!

GOD!

FUCKING FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!! I’m just so

i have this fire that has been damped my entire life and all i want to do is RIP THINGS AND SHOUT AND SCREAM AND SHAKE PEOPLE AND SCREAM IN THEIR FACES!

 

but also I’m just chilled too. but ARGHHHHHH!!!

IM JUST SO FRUSTRATED! its like the englishness has repressed this fire inside me. i hate it. i hate that english repressedness. i think thats what worries me about my partner. he’s just doesn’t have quite enough fire in his belly and its not like I’m constantly restless and wanting to do things and such. a lot of the time I’m just tired and want to chill at home. but really i think its because there’s nothing fun or interesting to do in england. what is there. shopping. drinking. 

I WANT BEACH! i want hot weather and crazy architecture. i want secret passage ways and beautiful scenery. I want to discover a hidden gem. i want to eat the most incredible food for a small fee. 
I want a tan always. I want to see tanned people. I want to see men with soft little hairs that have gone blonde in the sun on their necks. i want to see white tshirts and sunglasses. i want to see a relaxed and content expression on peoples faces.

i don’t want fat, white, disgusting, miserable grossness. 

                    

nor do i want to see this

just fuck

basically. 

i don’t where to go. and if i do go my boyfriend doesn’t really want to go. i don’t think so. i think he wants to stay in england. he said he’d go with me but i dunno. maybe i don’t even want him to. i think i do. but sometimes i think “i wouldn’t be able to go just walk around my own with no aim and without worrying about the time and worrying that he’s gonna text and be like “where are you? :(“. 
maybe what I’m not good at is relationships. i tend to run and hide and end then suddenly. i don’t want to hurt him. i don’t.

i just. i don’t know.

and I’m so sick of not knowing. I’m so sick of saying i don’t know.

but i don’t.

 

 

Bathroom Hideout

        

 

I often take my laptop to the bathroom with me. I like that I can lock the door and hide away. It’s usually because I needed to use the toilet in the first place. But sometimes I just want to hide. 

At home it’s not so bad. My parents have a large house so I can be away from everyone relatively easily. At my flat it’s not so easy. In fact, it’s hard. Neither my partner nor I lock or even CLOSE the bathroom door most of the time. So going in to hide, type, cry, be locked away from the rest of the world is not easy because he knows I’m in there. 

Why do people take it personal if I’m upset? Why do they always assume it’s something about them? And why do therapists, psychiatrists, doctors, and also just anyone  – why do they think they can help me? How narcissistic to think they are so great as to be able to know what to tell me to ‘help’. Haven’t they realised that what they are saying is 

a. unhelpful
b. has been said, written, and heard at least 56 billion times
c. i’ve already thought it myself.

People just assume that because someone is angry or upset that firstly there must be one single valid reason.
why are you sad? what’s wrong?

If i was going to answer that question I would have to explain my entire life, all the things that have continued to disappoint me as I’ve gotten older, and the fact that the only thing I want from life is to be in a hammock on the beautiful paradise beach and own a quad bike to ride along said beach. pick fruits. help out the locals with fishing. Be naked sometimes if i wanted to be. swim in the sea. dance at sunrise. dance at sunset. eat delicious food. not have to make too much effort with anyone. play guitar. sing. die quietly in a hammock. the guitar will be lying over me. There will be a coconut next to me with a straw sticking out of it. I’ll lean over to finish the last sip. Lean back and think “i’ve finally got what i’ve always wanted” i’ll sigh and all life will come shooting out of me in one painless exhale. my head will tilt back and my eyes will close. That will be the end of my life as I know it. 

Apparently I have to make money first to be able to live like some of the poorest people in the world live.

I don’t want to be part of a tribe though. Tribes are just smaller societies. Same shit. smaller size. 

I want to be like a wolf. I can go off on my own, independent and strong. But if I want to be around others then we can be stronger as a pack. We can work together to achieve the same goal. But when we’re done I can go off alone and do my own thing. Wander around. Pick something off a tree that’s too high for a kid to reach and give it to him smiling and pat  him on the head and walk off humming songs to myself. Have the silence and space to just think my own shit. 

Anyway. I think what I hate about life is the people. 

i really fucking hate people. i don’t think i’m better than them. i hate myself too. what a fucking pathetic moron i am. 

I hate the control that dickheads over my life. i hate bankers, i hate players, i hate air head bimbos who think the only thing to gain from life is a rich husband who will (guaranteed) cheat on her but buy her lots of shit that she doesn’t even fucking NEEEDDD RAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH RAAGGGGEEEE!!!!!! I JUST WANT TO SMASH EVERYTHING! 

sometimes. i imagine I’m on top of a mountain. and there’s noone else around. trees. cold damp grass make contact with my bare feet. I look up to the clouds. look straight ahead of me and see a lake. I breath in deep. i close my eyes. then I scream and the whole world vibrates. and in those sounds waves hurling out of me are words, are pictures, are memories, are explanations, are feelings. Everything that I want to get out of me comes out. laid bare for the entire world to suddenly see and know and understand. I normally do this while crying into a pillow. i hold it, my entire body shakes, i open my mouth. I’m screaming but not a single sound is coming out. but for that moment I’m happy imagining myself on that mountain. and then i realise where i really am and what I’m really doing and i just think ‘what have i become?” 

Sometimes I feel like maybe I’m special. Like i’m Jesus. but not Jesus. But special in a way that I’m meant to make shit better for people and take all their shit on my own shoulders and deal with it. 

I do that anyway. My whole life i’ve done that. I’ve taken a lot of shit. And not given it back. I own a lot of shit really. Maybe that’s why I have stomach problems. I woke up in crippling pain today. I think my stomach aches are related to stress.

But since i was child I’ve been that person. everyone comes to me when they’re upset. everyone. even people i hardly talk to. even my parents. is it coz i just sit and listen and don’t say much? i just say back to them what they told me but from a different point of view?

I try not to tell people my own shit. I don’t like people knowing my fucked up thoughts and worries. I don’t like people seeing my upset or crying or sad. I don’t like them to know of what I really am. What i’m capable of (in a negative way). I think that’s why I wanted to write a blog. To get it out – for myself. So I can try and make sense of all that shit that goes racing through my head. And also, maybe just maybe someone will read this. Maybe it’ll change their life. Maybe they’ll say something that will change mine. Probably not. But sometimes. I think. maybe something good comes from getting it all out. And also I don’t really like speaking that much. Not if I’m sad. i don’t like doing anything if I’m sad. eating seems like the most vile thing to do if I’m sad. just the thought of opening my mouth makes me want to vomit. and i hate vomit. 

Living in a small flat – it’s not easy to hide. And i often have to explain myself. Why should he have to know just because we’re a couple? In a way it’s nice i suppose. that he knows and can try to make it better. and even that he wants to show he cares, even if he really can’t be bothered to have to put up with my shit.

Mostly i hate it. he can judge me. he can make assumptions about me. he can think I’m weak. he can think I’m insane. he can think that i can’t handle my own shit. he can maybe feel sad that he isn’t enough to make me happy. he can think I’m melodramatic. i hate melodramatic people. 

Though he told me he doesn’t think my depression is that bad. I thought I’d lost the strength to hide it. But obviously not. If he thinks its ‘not that bad’. He had depression. he was on antidepressants. I refuse to get help because 1. it’ll be a waste of time 2. i dislike medication and in no way whatsoever would I ever want to take any kind of mood controlling shit. fuck. that. 

Maybe people think that because I want to just deal with it myself that it’s not bad. But really, because it’s so bad I feel like I am the only person who can deal with it. only i know what i feel. only i know what i think. only i know that only i can make it better. 

Anyway. 

So. 

in conclusion. if I’m going to be happy. or if I’m going to be less pissed off and angry and depressed at, in and with, the world is if i just leave to that beautiful paradise island. 

I just want to leave. i tried it before when i went travelling but it didn’t go the way i wanted it to. in fact it was the most awful experience of my entire life and I have a strong dislike for Australians now. I didn’t meet a single one that was awesome. the most awesome person on the entire trip was me. and i suck. 

I imagined myself sitting on a beach. looking at the sunset. looking at the stars. looking at the waves. looking at the stillness. looking at the silence. and in the middle of it all would be me. me with a paper and pen. writing. and then me with a man. we are talking. we are discussing life. we are struck by the way our thoughts, our ideas, our morals, our understanding of everything, intertwine and wrap around each other and become one. and then we ourselves intertwine, becoming one. we kiss passionately. he pushes my hair back and looks into my eyes. its the most life changing and incredible moment that anyone could hope for. it changes us forever. it makes us stronger. it makes us happier. it makes us less dissatisfied. 

that only ever happens in my head. life in my head is much more fascinating. 

it’s all i’ve ever dreamt about – escaping to some island. forgetting everyone i ever knew. no matter whether i liked them or not. and just being. just being able to be.

people would ask me what i want to be. i would look up at them like i was a deer in the headlights. i didn’t want to share my beautiful dream with them. i didn’t want to tell them anything. i didn’t want them asking me questions and invading my private thoughts. 

anyway. its what one would called “a beautiful day”. 

in my eyes its hot. its sunny. there’s a breeze. its a good day for being at the beach.

i wish i had my own private beach. with no one. 

no screaming kids, no topless girls, no sleazy boys, no dirty looks. so i’m not a fucking super model. but i don’t look that bad. i like my body. it needs to be more toned but i like it. so fuck off your with fucking face. 

writing this blog has made me realise how angry i am. i never thought i was angry. but i am. I’m very very very very very fucking angry. I like being angry more than depressed. i think i might try and be more angry from now on. 

at least its a positive emotion. it’s an emotion. it has passion. its fiery and colourful. it’s loud. its a feeling i can revel in and make sense of and try to improve. 

depression is nothing. its watery and grey. it’s wanting to die so much that the rest of the world doesn’t exist outside my own head. it’s too loud. it’s too silent. it’s an endless hole where you can only get further away from the finish line. It’s knowing that you’ve failed. it’s knowing that you’re probably only ever going to do what you want to in your own imagination. it’s the disappointment you feel when you wake up. its cold and yet boiling hot. sweat has its own smell when you’re depressed. it’s the shiveryness you feel when you have to communicate with someone. it’s being on a roller coaster and just sitting there staring at nothing. not reacting. not caring. a glint of annoyance that you’re having to do this. that you couldn’t just be away hiding somewhere. it’s the frustration that you’re expected to react, to make noise, to enjoy. its the disappointment that not only don’t want to but that you can’t do any of those things. 

 

if god exists. why is life such a cunt? 

i like that word a lot. most people think its the most offensive word ever. it’s just another name for vagina. VAGINA! VA GIN A! thats the most disgusting word i think. it sounds vile. cunt sounds passionate at least. 

why is it worse that cock or dick? 

CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUNT CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!! 

 

people are so fucking cunting retarded. and if you’re offended by the word cunt. then you’re probably just a big fat cunt. 

CUNT! 

sounds like current. and currant. 

it’s lost meaning now. i said it too many times. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good at life.

I’ve decided that I’m not very good at life. Or at least I think I’ve decided that. I’m not really sure of any of my decisions anymore.

I started reading Vonnegut’s Slapstick or Lonesome no more. Well, to be more precise, I read the prologue and a few pages of the first chapter. The prologue drew me in. The chapter, not so much. Not yet. Or ever.

For some reason I’ve lost my ability to finish a book. Or anything for that matter.

Regardless of my  inability to finish anything, the point of why I mentioned Vonnegut’s book is because he says ….. * a while later after reading the same few pages over and over again and even googling* – I can’t find what he said – at least not the exact thing I thought I was looking for. I’m quite sure he wrote that his dying sister said that she felt as though she wasn’t “very good at life”.

I relate to that statement. I don’t think that I am very good at life.

Sometimes I’m not really sure about grammatical rules so I just apply them where I feel like they should go. I was never very good at languages. I didn’t really speak to anyone apart from my immediate family for a long time. They thought I was shy. I was. But I also feared other peoples’ reactions. I think because of my own familys’, especially my mother’s, inconsistent and unstable behaviour. I never knew, and still am unsure, of what to expect from people. Especially my mother.

I had a lot of tests done on me. They tried to see if I was retarded. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was a mathematical genius but nothing was done about it. I would finish the entire work book and everyone else would still be on the first few pages. Instead of getting more work and being encouraged I was made to just sit there or told to ‘go and sit on the carpet’ like it was Kindergarten Cop.

Everyone got excited about being about to go and sit on the carpet. They would smile smugly while I sat at my desk having to write about ‘what I did last weekend’. As a four year old (and yes I did maths and english as a four year old), I already knew I couldn’t just write,

‘My dad sat in his office doing work while my mother took my sisters out into the city. I stayed home and ate a lot of stuff till I felt sick and watched a lot of cartoons and movies and wished I could be the characters in them. Then I got my teddy bear and put him on a sledge and dragged it around the garden. Then I decided it was lunch and got out 6 plates. One for me and 5 for my imaginary brothers – Brendan is the eldest – he’s the nicest and most responsible, then Justin who isn’t around that much and can be a bit moody and always has a girlfriend, then there’s Mikey, Zac and Hozay. He doesn’t spell it Jose coz it looks ugly. They’re triplets and they’re fun and crazy. I’m the youngest and the only girl so they all look out for me. We live in California and have American accents. We don’t have parents because they died in a fire when I was 2. It’s a bit sad but Brendan looks after us and we can do what we want and are more free without parents controlling us. Sometimes we go in the attic and look at pictures of them and Brendan tells us all the nice things he remembers about them and how I look like our mommy. Later on my real parents left me and my real life sisters at home while they went to a party. We watched Ghost. They thought I would fall asleep. They fell asleep. I stayed awake and cried my eyes out asking why he had to die over and over. Then I cried myself tired and went to bed and pissed myself.”

Instead I would try and imagine the most normal thing ever. I would get wrapped up in own imaginary stories that I would have only written a few words down when everyone else was done. I once wrote, “I bounced a ball and then I went to see my friends”. I didn’t have any friends. And I didn’t really get the carpet thing either.

There’s a lot of things I don’t get.

In general, what I don’t get is life.

What am I meant to do with it? Why does it matter? Why does “the system” suck so much? Why do I have this perpetual feeling of waiting for something, for some critical moment when I can finally do want I want? Why can’t I just do what I want if it doesn’t hurt anyone? Why is marriage such a big deal? Why are people so …

so frustrating. Myself included. I frustrate myself with my idiocy. The fact that I spell things wrong and can never find the right word. The fact that when I talk to people I concentrate more on the way I sound rather than what I’m really saying and do weird facial expressions to look like I’m thinking about what I’m trying to explain but really I’m just stalling because I was contemplating my own accent and tone of voice. The fact that I was an honour student. Moved countries. And became a student who got Ds to match the D at the beginning depressed which is what I have felt my entire life. The fact that my back hurts all the time. The fact that people talk to my chest more than they do to my face and that I’m short so they’ve gone to the extra effort of looking even lower. Is my face that unbearable? Or are my boobs really that incredible?

All of these things. I hate them all.

I dislike socialising. I don’t really care what people do. I don’t care what their name is. I don’t care how old they are. And I also don’t really care what music they like. I hate that sometimes I want to be silent and/or cry. But I have to hold it all in and smile and pretend like I’m fine.

I don’t like the looks they give when I say things. Like I can’t see them looking at each like ‘what the ..?”

They just ignore me and talk about something else like shoes. No one ever adds anything to the debate that I’m having with myself. Unless they disagree. They tell me I’m wrong. And I ask why. Then they tell me they don’t want to have this discussion, not in public. It’s not appropriate. FUCK APPROPRIATE!

I dislike this feeling. This feeling of being trapped. Of feeling like I’m in a pool and my face is just poking out the surface. Like someone’s tied me up so tight that I can just about breathe in but my exhales are painful. Like someone just punched me in the throat. The tickle of cold wet tears that have reached my jaw line and continue down my neck. The way my eyes and eyebrows go pink when I cry. The way my voice wobbles when I’m nervous and upset. The way I’m so self-pitying.

I just don’t really like life. I don’t like what it has to offer me. It’s a chore. Something I wake up and sigh about. ‘another day’.

I don’t like the way that a symptom of depression is ‘a decreased/lack of interest in activities’. Why should I always be interested in the same shit to be ‘normal’? isn’t that childish, immature and naive? To always get enjoyment out of the SAME thing your ENTIRE LIFE!? Isn’t it kind of expected to just get bored of things? It used to bug me a bit. That I didn’t really like anything. But now, right now, I realised that it makes sense.

And even though I’m not interested in doing new things that’s only because I know that I’ll do it and then what? great. i’ve done it. woo fuckin hoo. It might have even been painful, tiring, sweaty to do. And then after it. What do you have but a memory that you did it?

When I turned 23 everyone told me that 23 was the best age. Everyone.
I hate it.

I think 17 was the age I hated the least. I was always drunk. Even when I was alone – which was most of the time. I would walk to the students’ union alone and drink and smoke indoors and check out the boys. One boy came up to me once while I was smoking and told me I was smoking ‘rather seductively’. That comment made me happy.

18 was shit. I was in a lame relationship with a boy who is probably a closet homosexual. and was in love with morrissey and had a crush on his cousin and would tell me stories about how they almost kissed. he messaged me years later just to tell me he had a new girlfriend and she thinks he looks like james dean. he doesn’t. he looks like a gay spotty skinny boy with a massive chin and stupid hair and jeans that are WAY too tight. and he was shit in bed. boring. i started falling asleep once and he got weirded out. HAHAHAHHA

19 i got high a lot. moved back home. started going to the gym a lot. i just wanted to get married and have kids. spent a couple of months in the States and did some naughty things in a park with a jewish boy while hobos watched. then i got stung by a bee and chased by the cops. the bee sting hurt for weeks.

20 i got high a lot. lived at home. still went to the gym and started looking hot. didn’t want to get married nor have kids.

21 got high a lot.  graduated from university. went travelling. got in the worst relationship with a complete dickhead who was in love with another girl but was with me because i was more beautiful than that..THING he liked. he was also crap at sex and had a small penis.

22 got high a lot. started talking to a friend from years ago. fell out with only friend from childhood. was glad to finally get rid of her. but sometimes miss just hanging out with someone i have so many memories with. started dating friend from years ago not that long after dumping dickhead mentioned above. lied to family about having a job in another city to move in with new guy. started a masters. had to go through a really horrible situation which I don’t wish to disclose.

23 getting high a lot. dropped out from doing a masters. am miserable. confused. don’t know what i want from life. is this guy the right guy!?  i want to cut his hair.and change his clothes. and wish he was more confident and outgoing and a bit more wild and crazy and found metal music as hilarious as i do and would take me on adventures and we would end up somewhere magical and talk about life and what not and make passionate love in the wild and under a waterfall. and mostly i just want to be alone.

where am i going to live? who is going to give me a job? do i want a job? do i want to go back to my masters? why should i aim so high when taxes are so high? what is the point of making lots of money if half of it goes to the army and to shitty ‘developments’  that make the motorway look even worse than it did before (and other things too obviously but fuck)? do i want to do a herbal medicine course? do i want to do an interior design course? should i get help or should i just suck it up and carry on like always? should i just fucking kill myself and be over with all this shit that i hate and don’t want to wait and find out the answer to? should i just leave everyone to clean up my mess and have to get rid of my stuff coz I’m dead? should i let them find my vibrator?

All of this worries me on a daily basis. The only way I get to sleep is to tell myself the same continuing story since childhood. i imagine a story like i’m watching a film. but its me and my imaginary brothers – the ones i’ve had since childhood and who make an appearance in my mind most nights to this day….. I feel like I’m maybe insane. And no one knows it. no one even suspects it. people think I’m smart and confident and happy and a high achiever and really caring. boys tend to think I’m a feminist and aggressive. I’m not any of those things AT ALL. far far far removed from each of those things. I’m just a really good liar. in fact I’m fucking great at it. I should be a lawyer for criminals but it goes against the morals I think i have.

I’m 23 and it’s like going through puberty for the second time but this time its like what i do/think/feel/say/want/need/have is so much more important coz it affects the rest of my life and i dont even really know what i want or like or need or feel and all that. Much less so than when i was going through puberty the first time. In fact I think I had a better grip on shit. even though I also wanted to kill myself a lot more then.

Sometimes people tell me things. and i just think ‘i should say something in response to this because otherwise they might get upset or think i’m weird that i’ve not commented but i don’t really think anything about what they’ve said so i’ll just say something generic like ‘cool”.

I think that maybe I’m autistic apart from I have great emotional intelligence I just can’t fucking express it nor want to express it.  I only learnt how to socialise because of internet chat rooms.

I hope the Myans were right about 2012.