| Changes |
[14th of September 2004: 19:29] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 amused |
] |
I changed my userinfo around. I keep changing it. I want it perfect.
If I lose 3lbs I'll be down to double figures. I'm looking forward to it.
Apparently I've eaten 666 calories today *amused*
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| Weeping |
[13th of September 2004: 23:19] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 okay |
] |
I cut my legs up a day and a half ago, and the wounds are still weeping. I had to wear bandages to college, so as not to get blood all over my jeans. Ripping them off this afternoon was interesting. And painful, very painful.
I don't understand why they would *still* be oozing blood and stuff.
And I'm still a little puzzled by the post-cutting faintness + strange noises in my ears.
I felt really cross with myself today, because I had almost 700 calories. Then I thought, what the hell? That's not exactly a huge amount. Argh. I don't know...
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| Wishes |
[3rd of September 2004: 23:07] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 sorry |
] |
i wish that someone cared
enough to come and save me,
from myself and these thoughts i can't stop.
i wish someone knew me enough
to know what it is that i don't,
to know what i need to make this stop.
if only they'd hear me when i speak,
crying out for someone to talk back
so that i don't have to talk to myself.
i want to be alone so much,
but please don't leave me alone with myself.
i'm not safe, i don't know what i want.
no one comes when they say they will,
no one forfils their promises.
we're all the same, every one of us.
not one of us knows each other
or ourselves enough to know what to do
to insert meaning into this life.
or maybe it's just me,
but if i'm the only one
what am i doing wrong?
but if everyone feels this way,
why isn't it obvious what to say
to make everything vanish?
i want to destroy myself,
to show you how much i needed someone around.
and i know that it won't change a thing,
but i won't have to sit here, night after night,
praying and hoping that something will change
and that someone will let me know that they hear.
|
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| Drip |
[21st of August 2004: 2:28] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
okay |
] |
Every now and then I'm woken up by the sound of my blood dripping onto my carpet.
It just won't stop bleeding.
|
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| Today |
[16th of August 2004: 17:54] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 depressed |
] |
Today I feel...
x ugly
x depressed
x alone
x fat
x useless
x lonely
x jealous
x needy
x resentful
x hateful.
I don't know how to fix half those things. Everything is such a joke.
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| Ache |
[12th of August 2004: 20:44] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
broken |
] |
I ache. I'm so very tired. I want to sleep properly, just for one night. I want to feel something other than "tired". I want to sleep forever.
I must have lost quite a bit of blood last night, or at least thought in my mind that I did. I could feel my heart slowing down and thumping against my chest. But that post-blood loss feeling, where you just want to sit very still, because it just feels good to stay still, is very desirable.
|
|
| Why |
[10th of August 2004: 23:19] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
fat |
] |
To be honest I don't know why I'm still hanging on. It's all going to come to nothing so soon anyway. Why do I bother?
I like the noise that scissors make when they snip at flesh.
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| Skin |
[6th of August 2004: 21:24] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
depressed |
] |
Earlier:
*sits on bed*
*punches thigh for 10 minutes*
"Oh look, it's 9 o'clock, Prozac time."
*takes pills*
*resumes punching thigh*
Everything smells like singed hair, it's none too pleasant.
I'm a stupid bitch. I hate everything.
My wrist is oozing white stuff.
Why am I still here?
|
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| Bruised |
[6th of August 2004: 14:52] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
numb |
] |
I'm starting to wonder about my sanity. Last night I lay on my bed for an hour, punching my leg and talking under my breath to myself. It helped, a bit. I never have the best conversations with myself at the best of times. However, I did achieve a nice big bruise. So really, it was quite productive. I only have to cross my legs to bring back the dull ache.
***
I've broken through the 8 stone barrier. It's good to see the scale saying 7 stone something. 111 lbs, anyway. I still look... urgh... but I'm getting better. I saw a picture of me from last year. That freaked me out. I was so fat. Heh, no, really? </sarcasm> I think my high weight is like 170lbs or something. Wow.
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| Wings |
[5th of August 2004: 12:34] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 tired |
] |
The secrets they share
Through the flight of their feathers:
Dark sins, light as air.
What knowledge I'd have,
Of beauty and life, if I
Understood their words.
***
I'm sorry to post another one.
I haven't been updating my "mood journal", so I'm going to have to remember/make up last week. Most of the time I have no mood; just "tired".
Confusing, frantic dreams again. I'm inclined to blame Fluoxetine, but I was getting them before, for a while.
Or maybe it was because I cut last night, for the first time in a while. Not much, but I can still make out the dark circles on the dark carpet where I missed a few falling drops of blood.
I'm an addict... I'm addicted to sugar-free energy drinks.
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|
| Annoying |
[4th of August 2004: 11:23] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
blank |
] |
Hanging in limbo,
I do not know how I feel.
Someone cut me down.
Oh holy chemists,
Gods of psychotherapy,
I bow at your shrines.
Can you make me whole?
Make me real, make me stronger,
Fill my empty void.
Swallowing capsules
Of neon yellow and green.
They dictate my moods.
(As if I wan't annoying enough...)
|
|
| Pointlessness |
[3rd of August 2004: 12:39] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
too much fight club |
] |
( first cigarette of the day )
I'm finally down to 8 stone/112lbs/my low weight. Anything lower than this will be improvement, rather than fixing from the last few years of binging. I asked my mum if my calves looked any thinner. She said I looked slim from the hips up. Does that mean my legs look fat? I asked. She said no, they just didn't look slim. It doesn't bother me, I find it quite amusing talking about my legs with her like that. I just want them smaller. I've stopped doing my leg exercises, because if I put muscle on them, they'll just get bigger. At least, that's my flawed logic.
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| 114 |
[30th of July 2004: 23:47] |
|
Lost another pound. How exciting.
Fluoxetine has killed my apitite. It's also given my body the idea it doesn't need more than 5 hours sleep a night. I want some more Temazepam.
The heat is killing me. Being away from the sea is killing me. On such a warm day, the air should smell of the sea. I have salt water in my veins instead of blood.
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| Changing |
[19th of July 2004: 22:45] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
tearful |
] |
I feel really fucking lonely at the moment. But at the same time, I don't want to see anyone. Everyone just makes me feel more lonely.
There's no one I can relate to. R, she's just a stranger. L, she has problems of her own, and I feel like I am incapable of helping her. LA, don't even know if I like her any more. We're so different, she has so many new friends who I can't stand. H just wants to spend time with her boyfriend. A lives miles and miles away. And M wants something I don't know if I can give him. Sometimes I feel like I can - I see glimpses of something and I convince myself that means every thing is ok. Rather than treating it like the exception, which it is, because most of the time I do not feel a thing.
I can't even cut properly right now. Just a few pathetic dribbles of crimson. I have a huge desire to binge eat, which I haven't done for half a year...
I want to take my shoes off and walk through the dark across the wet lawn, and never stop walking. I wish there was somewhere private I could go with miles and miles of grass, so I could walk for hours. I could walk around in a circle, but it's not the same. I just want to carry on walking into the dark.
No, I don't want to run away, because the outside world scares me. It's so cold and grey and there are so many strange shapes.
Perhaps if I had a spade, I could just keep digging until I reached the point in the soil where I could feel safe and secure, the place I can't find in my soul.
But I don't want to die. Not yet. Not because of guilt, but there are two things I want to get done first. The first will happen in a few weeks. The next could take quite a few months, but if all goes well, it will take less than a year.
But I do want to sleep for a long long time.
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| Neglect |
[17th of July 2004: 0:23] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 manic |
] |
Sorry, depression journal. You must feel so left out. That's because I've been manic for two weeks now. Not sleeping, not getting hungry, running around the place... I'm starting to suspect I do have manic depression, though I would never like to self-diagnose. "Suspected depression" was the last I heard. But they want to give me anti-psychotics for some reason. I'll do what I'm told.
|
|
| Crying |
[11th of July 2004: 2:04] |
|
I haven't cried properly for so long, and now it feels as if I might never stop...
|
|
| Review |
[10th of July 2004: 20:45] |
|
I had a pretty good few days this week.
Last night I sliced up both my arms.
I don't understand myself. At least the memories of noises stopped for a while. I'm not sure that makes sense... see I keep "hearing" the noise of metal over metal. Except I'm not hearing it at all. Just can't stop thinking about it. It makes me cringe. Ok, I guess it's not really that much of a big deal!
|
|
| Calories |
[4th of July 2004: 12:13] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
amused |
] |
I would start updating this with my calories, but they're the same every day, around 600, with 1 toast, fruit, ice lollies, a salad and some hot chocolate. For the past four months.
My stomach has been in pain for the past 2 days! I think it's because I hadn't done my sit-ups for ages, since I was ill, and now my muscles hurt. Bastards.
|
|
| Funeral |
[4th of July 2004: 1:04] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
depressed |
] |
Today I thought about my funeral. Not about the technical details this time, but about the actual process. I could picture the faces of my family and friends, sobbing with grief over a coffin, standing together, broken apart, in a graveyard somewhere, wherever. I don't hate anyone enough for that...
No, I'm not suicidal anymore... can't say I won't be by this time next week. But for now I'm stuck in limbo again, not wanting to live or die, not even wanting to sleep, or dream.
Everything is hollow. I try to get inside of things to find out what is there, digging deep under the skin of the things that interested me, to find out what it is they contain that I can emerge myself in, fuse myself together with. And I find nothing.
Movies and books and paintings and songs might create little capsules of life, but these capsules far surpass the real thing. They just capture one element of life and can ignore the rest... a millisecond glimpse of the sparkle in the eye of a new born child could last a paragraph, a chapter in a book, three minutes of a song, a scene in a movie, the whole canvas of a painting. It is captured forever and is made immortal. But it is fake, a sham.
In real life, where this moment is only a moment, the moment passes and it is lost. Real life holds so little meaning. Real beauty lasts for as long as it is held in the heart and soul of the living, and when that person dies, so too does all the beauty they carried within them.
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anotherdeadlove's journal
