I'm just so much better with books and vinyls and writings than with people. I don't know.
You're part leather, part obnoxious revelation
i just typed out a whole fucking entry and it got eaten up! FUCK
I really, really, really need to crawl into somebody right now. I really, really do.
This white is so bright, it hurts my eyes. I wish it was grey.
I never tell the people I love how much they mean to me. And when they're gone I cry and cry for days.
You are my person. I know I push you away and pull you back in and cry about boys and forget about you for days just to be reminded all of a sudden that you are my person.
Because you are.
Every time I watch Grey's Anatomy ( i know, i wish it was something cooler. ) and Meredith and that chinese chick talk about each other as their "persons" i cry. Cause I think of you and where you are. And where you are is a black blurr to me. I don't know what your room looks like and I miss you sleeping on my belly. I know that's my own damn fault for flying miles across a pond and escaping you. But I need you to know that you are my person.
I can't do life without you. I don't know how I did life without you. I don't feel your presence as strong as we used to cause life got ahead of me and things happend and you're there and I'm here and we're both lazy slobs. But you are my person and I don't know if i'm your person but the thing is that i'm always here. and stuff. always. If you wake up one day and you're fifty years old and you feel lonely and you remember the nights we talked about nothing and conuering the world i want you to remember that you're my person and you'll always be. I love you with all my dirty little pithole of a heart has to give.
This is very impulsive.and all. but yurs.
I just wish you were here right now. You and your comforting presence. Your heartbeat and your breath upon my chest. I wish you all were here. I wish you were right here. Right now. The guy I cuddled with last friday, I wish it would have been you. He was more gentle than I ever thought a man could be. He was stoned out aswell obviously and tired. And so was I - expect for the first part. I was the drunk counterpart. Bottle of Gin all to myself! yey!
It was Tanqueray and I only bought t cause Winehouse sang about it. It made me giggle all night cause I hate Gin and you were born in London. You even told me about the hospital and I've never heard about it. If Winehouse would have sung about you I couldn't have liked you more.
The bits I remember about you is that you made me pure, bitter coffee all night that my friend couldn't even drink with milk and sugar in it ( I got through insane troubles to get her that stupid milk and sugar and then she flushed the whole damn cup away. I drank it pure. Six cups of it. ) . I remember how you talked about not wanting to fuck around anymore and how i said that the sexy marine guy from a couple weeks back had to be turned down by me because I just couldn't do it again.
I remember you taking me out on the boat talking and talking on about how i'm breaking myself apart trying to save everybody else and me trying to convince you that it makes me happy.
I remember sitting on those steps telling you about how confused I am and how i had the tingles all over and you called me pretty, took me by the hand and kissed me upstairs. I just wanted to drop dead during that moment. I remember you sitting next to me cupping my face in your hand and me crumbling apart asking you not to be a jerk and hurt me.
It felt so utterly right and complete and all i can think about, worry about, whine about, sigh about are your lips on mine.
What is the nicest thing someone has ever done for you?
Submitted by tammy
She wrote "If you kill yourself, I'll kill myself aswell."
I know it's morbid and stupid and depressing. But that's the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me. I was in a weird place back then, being beaten up by my former step-dad on a regular basis ( fancy how I can just write that, just like that. In this non-chalant kind of way. As if it was the past now, forgotten, forgiven. Over. It isn't. ) and all this depression going on in my head.
Diana had been on vacation during the summer, some house, some friend, some place. I loved her so much that year, that summer I could barely stand it. She was about 5 feet, tiny and punk all over and inside. She never cared for how she looked. Where she stayed. What she did.
And weirdly enough she loved me back. We were the bestest of friends for a whole summer. Maybe even longer, it's all blurred out by now.
I was in an odd mood that day, being all self-centered, truly 14 with all my senses. I couldn't see forth or back or be in the present. And she wasn't there. We talked on the phone a bit and afterward I txted her how much I couldn't do things anymore. How i just couldn't.
That was also the summer I had started cutting myself. By that day my arms were slashed with cuts, deep, thick ones and tiny little scratches. I think that must have been the summer when people stopped seing me in short sleeves. I was making up this story about how my skin was sensitive and how it got burned too easily. That's when I started getting pale aswell.
It was never anything dramatic or well thought through. I just did it.
There was no giant media coverage on self harm back then - that was about to happen three or four years after with all the emo kids. I didn't know what I was doing was self-harm. It was obviously harming myself but it didn't feel like it... I haven't thought about this in what feels like decades. It's a whole different life.
There is nobody waiting to beat me up after school anymore. There is no fear of not understanding maths and getting hit for it. There's no anxiousness to get the last train before 7 or otherwise I won't see daylight ever again. All this pressure, this giant, massive boulder inside me is gone. It's gone. Back then it seemed like that was how life was supposed to be.
Full of pain and harm.Of not being in control over your own happiness. I couldn't decide wether or not the day would be a good day or not. The day could kill me if it wanted, lift me up, hit me in the face over dishes or a messy room. Over how wrong my clothes were, how unsporty my attitude was, how I was wasting my life in front of the telly.
The telly teached me english. I am self-taught. All of this. I taught this to myself. Tenses, grammer, jokes. All of it. I always had F's in school. In english. They didn't teach me. I did. I spent 7 seasons of Buffy in front of the telly watching the original series with the transcripts next to it and now I am fluent.
He hated it. He hated the potential I was. Reflecting how he has lost every single bit of his by now. He hated my life in front of him where there was none of his. He hated me being smarter then him. He hated me having more opportunities.
Atleast I wish those were the reasons. I don't actually know. But in my twisted head those are valuable reasons to beat up a girl. They are atleast understandable. They make sense to me.
What if he just did it? Just like that. Because he is who he is.
I want him to be a noble. I want his fists and abuse to be noble. I really wanted him to be my dad.
So I cut and I wanted to die. And she just wrote that if i end my life hers will end aswell. How can anything be nicer than that?
Holy fucking crap I have escaped the crap-tastic shithole called Washington! ( Maryland to be exact but what the heck ) I can't recall how much I hated it there, really.
It's been a peculiar three months now and I don't knwo what to expect of this here but oh boy apparently I am driving a brand new BMW with a Navigation system and leather seats in it ( wtf! what if i crash it! haha ), it took two fucking minutest to get me on the insurance and the fridge is filled with Soy-goodies and my favourite crackers. It's like...I got food, dude! I got food! There's Tortellini!
I know, Tortellini!Dude! Who fucking cares. I do. I haven't had any for weeks. Because they weren't on fucking sale.Now, I do understand. Food is expensive in this weird weird country and all but fucking hell if both of you choppers are working get me some fucking Tortellini for fucks sake!
The trip to Penn Station was a whole load of shit and I ended up spending 90 bucks on a cab because I wasn't quite in the mood to go up and down the six million stairs over at Riverdale station with two oversea-bags. Luckily there are three nice people in Manhattan, one of whom helped me carry my bags down to the New Jersey Transit departure thingy and one in the form of an old lady who would watch my bags for a minute so I could get something to eat ( Holy crap lady, though haven't you heard of all the terrorist attacks? There could have been bombs in those bags no kidding )
The last one I have yet to meet but maybe I will on one of those weekends I drive up to Manhattan in my shiny, pretty BMW ( if I do a good job tomorrow driving with the lovely owner of it anyway ). I hate tests. I'll prolly screw fucking up and they won't let me drive everrrr again ever and i'll be stuck on a farm in NJ forever.
If i look out the window in the morning I see two brown, sleek shiny horses and the air smells like somebody dropped childhood and spilled it all over. Now I sat down and wrote my grams a letter, like a proper one and Michael should be back in a bit and we'll go for a cruise or summat, dunno. I'll prolly screw up bad time... I think if i get the 68 or 206, i'll be good. and 130 emerges with 206, 206 going left and 130 going right and if i stay on 130 i'll head into Bordentown...eeeeh I'm confused already but whatever. I looked it up on mapquest to get a sense, all I can do really...
I still can't get over the view out the window.It's green and shit, with horses!
I dunno where life is heading..talked to my sister over the phone for a bit earlier, it's funny how I always end up talking to her.Mum's usually quite a bit busy and my brother is all over the place for the most part. He's in therapy too?! Wtf! And my sister just has a newfound interest in Psychology. It's quite a bit weird. The image of her becoming a Psychologist and my brother being perfectly healthy in the head.It's mind blowing. If they weren't my loved ones i'd steal their lifes for me and run away with them.
I never even realize how much i got until it's over. I never went into NYC much until Manuela came and dragged me. Washington I hated with guts and it never occured to me at all that there would be something appealing to me. If i go back home I'll miss it greatly... i also got a message from Eva talking about how weird Bianca is with that hideous boyfriend of hers. I just think she can't be herself. Ever since i've known her I have absolutely never seen her just losen up, get drunk and dance stupid.. she sometimes did a bit with me cause god behold, i don't give a crap what i look like dancing. It just doesn't interest me, i am self conscious to no end, let the liquor hit in and i won't care anymore... which should be the way we always are. But i dunno.
My back hurts greatly and all i can think of is route 206. I just wanna walk over to that stable and feed that horse a bunch of sugar cookies. He's beautiful. The last hours before Manuela left home we spent watching Black Beauty (never seen it. wtf. ) , well half of it to kill time... The Saturday night out before she left we were riding one of the carriages through Times Square cause the guy fancied me.. We went all the way down to the stables, they're on the waterfront, near 50th? i tink. It smells like hell in there. The horses name was "Lollipop" for the first 25 minutes of the ride and then I announced it's official beautification process fulfilled after clipping my hairclip into his mane and nameing him "Paul Anka" in honor of both well, Paul Anka and obviously Gilmore Girls.
And now there's horses right out of my back window.
dunno.
this is a reminder to my own, very slow-learning, slow-procecessing, self-indulged, stupid mind : Do not ever, everrr ask your mum for advice. Or consult with her, or ask her for her oppinion. Why? Cause it will fuck you over in some kind of way.
If she agrees with what you secretly already do know is the right thing to do you'll actually do the exact opposite as to not follow what your friggin mother would do. Leading to the natural outcome of such thing : You'll screw up and your mother will stand in front of you ( although you can only see her shoes from the awkard positon you're in, face front in the dirt ) waving a sign that says "I told you so"
If she doesn't agree you can basically skip the part where you don't do what she does but just do what you want and think is right and strut straight ahead into the dirt. And the posterboard of course. With neon letters and little reindeers dancing to her delight and your defeat.
Just don't ask her again, please don't.
Also : Don't spend 60 bucks on CVS crap that you don't really need. That's a third of your income fuckhead.
I know, nobody ever told you. But you are a good girl. You are. You are a good girl and you are what I always wanted you to be. You're beautiful in the way you create and destroy and in every flaw you have I see something that makes me smile inside.
I wish I could be with you right now, support you in this time you are in, in this life you are stuck in. I wish I could be your backbone, your safety system making sure you never fall. Because I know you will fail, over and over , be bruised like you have always been, abused by your loved ones, neglected by your surroundings.
But i want you know that it is okay. You are. You will be. I know Im not with you and I wish I would have taken the time I had with you more seriously. In fact I wish I would have spent every wake minute with you, cherishing you.
I miss you truly. And I love you.
Your father.
I think that's what he would say if he was still alive.
