Sunday, February 12, 2012
Monday, December 19, 2011
Statistics.
When I say I'm fine, nine out of ten times I'm using my definition and not the one in the dictionary.
fine, fi·ne/fīn/, /ˈfēnā/
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My definition
Fine
1. I've had worse days.
2. I've hurt more.
3. Life has sucked more.
4. Well, this could be worse.
5. It's alright, not like I actually (lie) care or anything so, it will do.
6. I've thought more about suicide, and it has been worse.
7. Tomorrow seems sort of within reach.
- No, I am not okay, but I will tell you that I am fine if any of the reasons above apply since you can't be bothered to actually care if I am fine by the dictionary definition and not by mine.
I would love to say that I'm fine and have someone turn to me and tell me that it's all bullshit and as me what is really wrong.
To me, fine is saying that it's alright since I haven't killed myself or cut today, though I've thought about it. Fine is saying that I can't really care how it will affect me because it will make someone else happy and that's okay.
I say I'm fine when I'm depressed.
I say I'm fine when I'm about to cry.
I say I'm fine in hope someone will tell me to try again. No one has.
Today, I'm fine. I haven't cut yet, so that's good. Truthfully, I've been in a horrible mood all day. School sucked, I'm so tired and I haven't been sleeping at all recently. I think I'm back to where I was at the end of last year. I won't explain, though I'm sure that none of you will understand. When I got home everything sucked that much more. It doesn't bother me that my mom had me raking leaves, what bothered me is that I do it all by myself even though everyone else is home, they just choose to occupy themselves with something completely stupid. My sister said she was sick. Well, I've been sick for two weeks and I still get up every morning and kick myself through the day and halfway through the night. I just don't want to hear it anymore.
It's not like my mom cared either. She just stayed in the back yard waving the leaf blower around like a fool. If she had been out front she would have asked me again about college, and what my plan is, probably hoping that I would have changed my mind. I haven't. I want to go to art school and that just pisses her off to no end. Well, too fucking bad. I get horrible grades in school now, what makes you think college will be any different if I go to a "real" college.
Fuck her. She knows I have issues and she chooses to do nothing about them. She sees that I don't eat but she just pokes me in the stomach looking to see if she can feel my ribs yet. Will it take me starving myself half to death for her to do something about it finally?
I try to love her and it just doesn't work.
It's all "oh, woe is me," with her. She says she is depressed, but she doesn't know what depression is.
She doesn't know what it feels like to not have the drive to do anything.
She doesn't know what it feels like to love music and love drawing but not want to do anything with it at a particular moment because of depression.
She doesn't know what it's like to have been beaten by your ex and only told one person about it.
She doesn't know what it's like to hear the song that was played while you were being beaten on the radio and expected not to react.
She doesn't know what a real panic attack is like.
She doesn't know what the relief feels like when you cut nice and deep into your skin.
She doesn't know what a schizophrenic hallucination is like, how bad it can get.
She doesn't know what it's like to not remember the last time your own mother said that she was proud of you.
She doesn't know what it's like to be invisible.
And she doesn't know that she has driven me into depression.
So yeah, I'm fine.
Fine
1. I've had worse days.
2. I've hurt more.
3. Life has sucked more.
4. Well, this could be worse.
5. It's alright, not like I actually (lie) care or anything so, it will do.
6. I've thought more about suicide, and it has been worse.
7. Tomorrow seems sort of within reach.
- No, I am not okay, but I will tell you that I am fine if any of the reasons above apply since you can't be bothered to actually care if I am fine by the dictionary definition and not by mine.
I would love to say that I'm fine and have someone turn to me and tell me that it's all bullshit and as me what is really wrong.
To me, fine is saying that it's alright since I haven't killed myself or cut today, though I've thought about it. Fine is saying that I can't really care how it will affect me because it will make someone else happy and that's okay.
I say I'm fine when I'm depressed.
I say I'm fine when I'm about to cry.
I say I'm fine in hope someone will tell me to try again. No one has.
Today, I'm fine. I haven't cut yet, so that's good. Truthfully, I've been in a horrible mood all day. School sucked, I'm so tired and I haven't been sleeping at all recently. I think I'm back to where I was at the end of last year. I won't explain, though I'm sure that none of you will understand. When I got home everything sucked that much more. It doesn't bother me that my mom had me raking leaves, what bothered me is that I do it all by myself even though everyone else is home, they just choose to occupy themselves with something completely stupid. My sister said she was sick. Well, I've been sick for two weeks and I still get up every morning and kick myself through the day and halfway through the night. I just don't want to hear it anymore.
It's not like my mom cared either. She just stayed in the back yard waving the leaf blower around like a fool. If she had been out front she would have asked me again about college, and what my plan is, probably hoping that I would have changed my mind. I haven't. I want to go to art school and that just pisses her off to no end. Well, too fucking bad. I get horrible grades in school now, what makes you think college will be any different if I go to a "real" college.
Fuck her. She knows I have issues and she chooses to do nothing about them. She sees that I don't eat but she just pokes me in the stomach looking to see if she can feel my ribs yet. Will it take me starving myself half to death for her to do something about it finally?
I try to love her and it just doesn't work.
It's all "oh, woe is me," with her. She says she is depressed, but she doesn't know what depression is.
She doesn't know what it feels like to not have the drive to do anything.
She doesn't know what it feels like to love music and love drawing but not want to do anything with it at a particular moment because of depression.
She doesn't know what it's like to have been beaten by your ex and only told one person about it.
She doesn't know what it's like to hear the song that was played while you were being beaten on the radio and expected not to react.
She doesn't know what a real panic attack is like.
She doesn't know what the relief feels like when you cut nice and deep into your skin.
She doesn't know what a schizophrenic hallucination is like, how bad it can get.
She doesn't know what it's like to not remember the last time your own mother said that she was proud of you.
She doesn't know what it's like to be invisible.
And she doesn't know that she has driven me into depression.
So yeah, I'm fine.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Not Daddy's Girl
I've been independent for a lot of my life. Since I was four, really. I mean, I couldn't cook on my own or anything, that's just too impressive for me. No, I was just never the favorite and had to independently teach me how to grow up with very little parental influence.
My mom was a firefighter and worked a lot.
My dad died when I was six.
They were divorced since I was about four.
He "ran away," as my mom put it, to Arizona.
Unfortunately, my mother can be such a bitch about my father sometimes, and how she talks about him. Just tonight we were at a party at my lieutenant's house and she started talking about the multiple times she has been called a lesbian.
My father was no angel. At all. He cheated on my mom, which is why they got divorced, then ran away to Arizona to be closer to his mom, my Oma. That would have been okay if I had maybe gotten to see him more. I didn't and I have very few and far between memories of him. They're all really great memories, too, and I really wish that my mom would let me keep those as innocent and as untainted as possible.
She likes to share her survival stories a lot, the "oh woe is me" type of stories. This story in particular involved her telling everyone about how once my dad was in Arizona, he played it off as if my mom was a lesbian and that's why he cheated.
He got a new girlfriend, Ms. Angie, as I called her.
He cheated on her. No one found out about that one until his funeral when the girl he was cheating on her with tried to leave a note in his open casket.
The worst memory I have is kissing his cold cheek.
My mother is ruining everything by telling me all of this. I don't want to look at his memories as if he was a bad guy.
At least he would tell me he was proud of me if he was still here.
My mom was a firefighter and worked a lot.
My dad died when I was six.
They were divorced since I was about four.
He "ran away," as my mom put it, to Arizona.
Unfortunately, my mother can be such a bitch about my father sometimes, and how she talks about him. Just tonight we were at a party at my lieutenant's house and she started talking about the multiple times she has been called a lesbian.
My father was no angel. At all. He cheated on my mom, which is why they got divorced, then ran away to Arizona to be closer to his mom, my Oma. That would have been okay if I had maybe gotten to see him more. I didn't and I have very few and far between memories of him. They're all really great memories, too, and I really wish that my mom would let me keep those as innocent and as untainted as possible.
She likes to share her survival stories a lot, the "oh woe is me" type of stories. This story in particular involved her telling everyone about how once my dad was in Arizona, he played it off as if my mom was a lesbian and that's why he cheated.
He got a new girlfriend, Ms. Angie, as I called her.
He cheated on her. No one found out about that one until his funeral when the girl he was cheating on her with tried to leave a note in his open casket.
The worst memory I have is kissing his cold cheek.
My mother is ruining everything by telling me all of this. I don't want to look at his memories as if he was a bad guy.
At least he would tell me he was proud of me if he was still here.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Other-Worldly Bullshit
Since I was young I remember thinking that everyone had mind-reading powers except me. Everyone could read my mind and everyone was in on the plan not to tell me that they could read my mind. There were times when I'd freak out and start crying.
There was this other time that I remember crying because the world was just so big, and I was just a small part of it.
I think somewhere around there would be when the paranoia all started up, when I was young. I hadn't thought too much about it until just recently. I have been trying so desperately to figure out what is wrong with me. My childhood came to mind, and yet until today I never connected the two stories to my more recent problems. Also, when I was younger I remember being petrified of being home alone at night, a feeling that has yet to go away. And still currently I can't walk by windows if it is dark on the other side of the glass without having something close to a panic attack.
Speaking of panic attacks, I had been so excited that they were over. Now I don't know what to do with myself. Last year, at the very end of the year when everything started to come together, better yet, fall apart, I would get three to seven of them a day.
I had one last night.
I had one this morning.
I'm terrified. I don't want to fall back into the hell I was in last year. I'm just starting to make amends with life. Suicide wasn't such a strong thought anymore, though it was still there, but now it's coming back. All of it is coming back.
I'm starting to think that I really need help.
Can't tell my mom, yet. Oh, no, that would be a very bad idea. I will have to wait until I'm 18 to do anything about it. One and a half years today, actually, and I will get the help that I need. In secret, of course. My mom already thinks I'm stupid, verbally telling me on somewhere close to a daily basis, I don't need her knowing that I'm crazy, too.
There was this other time that I remember crying because the world was just so big, and I was just a small part of it.
I think somewhere around there would be when the paranoia all started up, when I was young. I hadn't thought too much about it until just recently. I have been trying so desperately to figure out what is wrong with me. My childhood came to mind, and yet until today I never connected the two stories to my more recent problems. Also, when I was younger I remember being petrified of being home alone at night, a feeling that has yet to go away. And still currently I can't walk by windows if it is dark on the other side of the glass without having something close to a panic attack.
Speaking of panic attacks, I had been so excited that they were over. Now I don't know what to do with myself. Last year, at the very end of the year when everything started to come together, better yet, fall apart, I would get three to seven of them a day.
I had one last night.
I had one this morning.
I'm terrified. I don't want to fall back into the hell I was in last year. I'm just starting to make amends with life. Suicide wasn't such a strong thought anymore, though it was still there, but now it's coming back. All of it is coming back.
I'm starting to think that I really need help.
Can't tell my mom, yet. Oh, no, that would be a very bad idea. I will have to wait until I'm 18 to do anything about it. One and a half years today, actually, and I will get the help that I need. In secret, of course. My mom already thinks I'm stupid, verbally telling me on somewhere close to a daily basis, I don't need her knowing that I'm crazy, too.
Needs A Spark
I no longer interest myself.
There had been, not too long ago either I might add, a short standing pact that I had going. My idea was to party and smoke and drink all I wanted, to have fun. Eventually when I was somewhere around thirty-seven I would just kill myself. That edited itself to when I was bored with my life I'd just kill myself.
I am bored with life.
Don't get me wrong, I love where I am right now. I love being a firefighter, my boyfriend is great and endlessly entertaining, but I'm so bored. Maybe that's just how I feel at the moment. Something exciting should happen, though I swear if my pager goes off right now I will be pissed because I'm home alone and won't be able to make it to the station in time.
I don't even know what to say anymore.
There had been, not too long ago either I might add, a short standing pact that I had going. My idea was to party and smoke and drink all I wanted, to have fun. Eventually when I was somewhere around thirty-seven I would just kill myself. That edited itself to when I was bored with my life I'd just kill myself.
I am bored with life.
Don't get me wrong, I love where I am right now. I love being a firefighter, my boyfriend is great and endlessly entertaining, but I'm so bored. Maybe that's just how I feel at the moment. Something exciting should happen, though I swear if my pager goes off right now I will be pissed because I'm home alone and won't be able to make it to the station in time.
I don't even know what to say anymore.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Night Fucks Day
Oh how I hate these days that are such roller coasters.
Reality and "dreamland" is starting to blur as a sort of definite state of mind. My whole life seems to be turning into a fiction novel and no one is bothering to take a second and read past the cover. School is such an annoying fly in my ear that I can't be bothered to pay attention. I can't believe they won't let me graduate early. Senior will suck immensely at this rate.
I'm a complete loner this year it's not even funny. I can't understand how the hell I managed getting a boyfriend, a great one at that, but I did.
These problems are just horrid and the people causing them, even more so. They all fuck with my head so hard that I'm completely dizzy from all of it. Sick of it all. Just nauseous.
In a year it won't matter.
In a year it won't matter.
Two thirds of it anyways.
Reality and "dreamland" is starting to blur as a sort of definite state of mind. My whole life seems to be turning into a fiction novel and no one is bothering to take a second and read past the cover. School is such an annoying fly in my ear that I can't be bothered to pay attention. I can't believe they won't let me graduate early. Senior will suck immensely at this rate.
I'm a complete loner this year it's not even funny. I can't understand how the hell I managed getting a boyfriend, a great one at that, but I did.
These problems are just horrid and the people causing them, even more so. They all fuck with my head so hard that I'm completely dizzy from all of it. Sick of it all. Just nauseous.
In a year it won't matter.
In a year it won't matter.
Two thirds of it anyways.
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