It's been a while since I've last posted, hasn't it? Well I'm sorry to say I don't have a whole lot of report. I guess I'll pick up from my last post.
I got over the pity party I was throwing for myself and headed to four O's for a bit. I spent the first three nights in a luxurious king sized hotel room generously provided for by Fabio. Needless to say this was a very well spent weekend, on both parts. The bed and shower was also put to good use. Afterward I spent three days at my bother Bill's house outside of town where he lives with his girlfriend, Kenzie. I found this immensely amusing and a very good time. We watched movies, played Scrabble, and fed the raccoons that live in his backyard! There's a mother and three babies, I had a great time fooling around with them. After this I spent the rest of the week with my friend Shannon out in the boonies. This went well aside from her constant attitude problem with her parents, leaving me stuck in the middle of them. I had to make a trip to the local hospital, though, because my throat infection had returned. I was given antibiotics and it cleared up fairly quickly. After Shannon's I was back with Fabio, living in his car for the weekend. It's not quite as bad as it sounds though. I semi ruined things though as I had a cry session in the car after Ice Age Three. Going in we had seen the Canadian flag at half mast. I've known a lot of men who've gone over seas, sadly most of them did not come home. A sinking feeling began to grow in the pit of my stomach. This was precisely why I never wanted to get involved with anyone in the military. The "what if it was.." scenario began to play out. So by the end of the movie I was all tears and sentiments. Needless to say, I made an ass of myself. I couldn't even quite explain to Fabio why it upset me so. I don't think it's something you can really explain, it's something you have to feel. I wouldn't be able to make him understand no matter how hard I tried. How is it I managed to find myself falling so hard for him so fast anyway? I'm usually as guarded as anything.. Strange. He's special though, he's more than any of the other assholes I was with, maybe that's why. All of a sudden I can't picture life without him.. I love that crazy boy.
So anyway, after this I returned home. Things here have been okay but there's a lot of money stress and my parents have taken to ignoring me again. Fan-freaking-tastic. Aside from that, I do have one minor incident to report; a single blemish on my feelings the past two weeks or more. I shall not mention names in case a certain someone should come across this and lose his/her temper, but I received a "Interested" on Are You Interested on Facebook. Yes, this seems very minor indeed and a trifle matter but it meant something to me because it was from one of the ex's. One that I had remained best friends with until one fight over some expensive jewelry he failed to return to me. Anyway, it gave me a mild cardiac arrest and I may have forgotten to breath for a few seconds. That's the last thing in the world I needed to see. I promptly shut Facebook. No, I'm not "interested" in him still. I did not, however, want to know he's still interested in me. The hurt there was too intense and complicated, I'd rather just completely forget that chapter of life.
So this is what has been going on in my life lately. Not overly interesting, but a nice break from the usual chaos. Just thought I'd write a positive post for a change, I'm not all negativity. I'm off for the night though, peacee.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
can't be your superman ;
"Her eyes were upturned, focusing on the stars and trying to put together the few constellations she knew. Tears poured silently from the corners as she tried to gulp down a few breaths of air in between thrusts. Her lips were forcibly parted and her teeth strained at the gums, begging to bite down on the object slithering between her lips. The only sound beside his grunting and inaudible mutterings was the sputtering breath of the girl on her knees. He let out a pleased moan and leaned back against the alley wall, his hands clutching at the ringlets of the whore in front of him. She squeezed her eyes shut as he plunged deeper and her lack of air became even more severe. She began to cough violently and gag, trying desperately to pull him from her mouth; it was useless. He pushed himself deeper as she moaned in pain and tried to pull away. This only won her less air and tighter grips from the fists that had her hair. With her eyes rolling in their sockets, she watched the stars, the alley wall, and his smiling face begin to spin and mold together. Finally, a mouthful of shame rocketed down her throat just before the breaking point. He released her and she fell back, the world still spinning. He grinned and pulled up his briefs, his jeans. With a smug grin, a flash of perfect white teeth in the dark city night, he dropped a twenty on the coughing woman in the dirt. She clutched at it and shook her head, pushing herself up as he walked away. Another day, another dollar."
"She awoke a few minutes before the alarm clock was due to go off. She offered the face of the clock a small smile before rolling over on to her side to peer into the sleeping face of her husband. His eyelids flickered in his sleep and he gave a light sigh. She ran a hand through his dark hair and caressed his cheek as he slept. The smell of last night's love making hung fragrantly in the air. This also made her smile. They were hardly newly weds anymore and there had been the occasional dry spell but last night the vigor had been reawakened; it had been perfect. How long since he had touched her, wanted her, loved her. His eyes opened slowly and smiled back at the face of his wife. He watched the sunlight gently stroke her cheek and brighten her emerald eyes. Suddenly, the alarm clock wailed on the night stand. He gave one last smile then rose from the bed quickly. Within twenty minutes he walked out the front door, his black Lexus car from work idling at the curb. He opened the back door and entered the spacious car as he did every morning, clean shaven and smelling of Old Spice. His assistant smiled brightly at him as he slid next to her. As the car sped away from the house toward the office, he gently slid his hand dangerously high up her thigh and lowered his lips to her delicate neck. His wife lay naked in their bed at home, still smiling from the intimate night with the man she loved. The dance continued."
"She shrieked in pain, begging him to stop, as he shoved the bottle deeper inside of her. It was too far, too far. He groaned with pleasure and drove the neck of the champagne bottle deeper inside her. There was a loud rip followed by a sharp snap. She froze, wide eyed, every muscle of her body tensed. He was alarmed by the sudden noise and withdrew the bottle quickly; it was broken from the neck down. Blood began to pour from between her legs as if a dam had broken. Her body remained tensed as she curled up instinctively and screamed. He stared, dumb founded. Within minutes there was a pool of blood on the cement floor. He bit his lip and paced, slowly pulling on his clothes, glancing down at her as she continued to howl like the wounded animal. Gradually her screams and sobs were quieting; she was losing color. He finally made up his mind. Within seconds he was out the broken window of the tiny decrypted house and on his way back to town. He left her there, where she continued to sob and bleed. The world around her was getting blacker, the angles of the room were less defined. She was slipping away, silently, on the cold floor of the slum in the early morning hours of a hot July night. By morning she'd be just another body. A cold sweat began to ooze from every pore as she realized she was going to die here, alone. She was no one worth remembering, no one worth saving. She began to wail again as this realization slapped her in the face. Alone on the concrete, her body almost floating in the sea of blood draining from her body. She cried long and hard until her terrified cries winded down again into small gulping noises. The iron stench of her own blood and panicked sweat reached her nostrils. For the first time in years she prayed to God, prayed for a way out, for a savior. He left her swimming in her own shame, naked on the unforgiving floor."
"She awoke a few minutes before the alarm clock was due to go off. She offered the face of the clock a small smile before rolling over on to her side to peer into the sleeping face of her husband. His eyelids flickered in his sleep and he gave a light sigh. She ran a hand through his dark hair and caressed his cheek as he slept. The smell of last night's love making hung fragrantly in the air. This also made her smile. They were hardly newly weds anymore and there had been the occasional dry spell but last night the vigor had been reawakened; it had been perfect. How long since he had touched her, wanted her, loved her. His eyes opened slowly and smiled back at the face of his wife. He watched the sunlight gently stroke her cheek and brighten her emerald eyes. Suddenly, the alarm clock wailed on the night stand. He gave one last smile then rose from the bed quickly. Within twenty minutes he walked out the front door, his black Lexus car from work idling at the curb. He opened the back door and entered the spacious car as he did every morning, clean shaven and smelling of Old Spice. His assistant smiled brightly at him as he slid next to her. As the car sped away from the house toward the office, he gently slid his hand dangerously high up her thigh and lowered his lips to her delicate neck. His wife lay naked in their bed at home, still smiling from the intimate night with the man she loved. The dance continued."
"She shrieked in pain, begging him to stop, as he shoved the bottle deeper inside of her. It was too far, too far. He groaned with pleasure and drove the neck of the champagne bottle deeper inside her. There was a loud rip followed by a sharp snap. She froze, wide eyed, every muscle of her body tensed. He was alarmed by the sudden noise and withdrew the bottle quickly; it was broken from the neck down. Blood began to pour from between her legs as if a dam had broken. Her body remained tensed as she curled up instinctively and screamed. He stared, dumb founded. Within minutes there was a pool of blood on the cement floor. He bit his lip and paced, slowly pulling on his clothes, glancing down at her as she continued to howl like the wounded animal. Gradually her screams and sobs were quieting; she was losing color. He finally made up his mind. Within seconds he was out the broken window of the tiny decrypted house and on his way back to town. He left her there, where she continued to sob and bleed. The world around her was getting blacker, the angles of the room were less defined. She was slipping away, silently, on the cold floor of the slum in the early morning hours of a hot July night. By morning she'd be just another body. A cold sweat began to ooze from every pore as she realized she was going to die here, alone. She was no one worth remembering, no one worth saving. She began to wail again as this realization slapped her in the face. Alone on the concrete, her body almost floating in the sea of blood draining from her body. She cried long and hard until her terrified cries winded down again into small gulping noises. The iron stench of her own blood and panicked sweat reached her nostrils. For the first time in years she prayed to God, prayed for a way out, for a savior. He left her swimming in her own shame, naked on the unforgiving floor."
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
i think of you from time to time ;
Ever get so stuck in memory you can't escape? Ever have one of those nights you can't sleep because you dream that the same shit is happening to you again, with someone new you let in? Isn't it terrifying? I hate that scenario, which is why I'm posting today. I'm stuck there again and I'm fighting to break out of it.
I hate days like this. Some days I just get so upset that I can't move on that I wish my March attempt had worked. How can I live my whole life like this? Is it going to get better? Am I always going to have to drug myself up to feel remotely normal? I hate all these questions. The worst part is that no one can possibly answer them. It's going to be a long night; I've been struggling to breath and keep my cool all day. My fingers are itching for a razor but I'm fighting back this time. But I'm coming a little undone tonight. Entering week four of being cut free. Let's hope it starts getting a little easier.
The things I keep thinking about are mostly my past relationships. The lies, the underminding, the neglect, the abuse. I think about all the time I've spent alone while my parents went at each other. I hate being alone. I feel like I've been living like this pretty much all my life. My life's so screwed up. And it's like I'm running out of places to run. I should be a track star the way I run from people and places; I'm always running. It's easier than getting hurt. But now I'm tired of running too. My options seem to be slimming.
All in all, this has been a really down day for me. It's hard to stay focused and relaxed. I need a friend right now and there's no one to go to at the moment. I can't be left alone or I might cave, which is usually how it happens, but there's no one here. It's hard to relax when you're as high strung as I've become. Anyway, more later, I'm going to try to do something else. My thoughts aren't even running in sync tonight, obviously.. Night.
I hate days like this. Some days I just get so upset that I can't move on that I wish my March attempt had worked. How can I live my whole life like this? Is it going to get better? Am I always going to have to drug myself up to feel remotely normal? I hate all these questions. The worst part is that no one can possibly answer them. It's going to be a long night; I've been struggling to breath and keep my cool all day. My fingers are itching for a razor but I'm fighting back this time. But I'm coming a little undone tonight. Entering week four of being cut free. Let's hope it starts getting a little easier.
The things I keep thinking about are mostly my past relationships. The lies, the underminding, the neglect, the abuse. I think about all the time I've spent alone while my parents went at each other. I hate being alone. I feel like I've been living like this pretty much all my life. My life's so screwed up. And it's like I'm running out of places to run. I should be a track star the way I run from people and places; I'm always running. It's easier than getting hurt. But now I'm tired of running too. My options seem to be slimming.
All in all, this has been a really down day for me. It's hard to stay focused and relaxed. I need a friend right now and there's no one to go to at the moment. I can't be left alone or I might cave, which is usually how it happens, but there's no one here. It's hard to relax when you're as high strung as I've become. Anyway, more later, I'm going to try to do something else. My thoughts aren't even running in sync tonight, obviously.. Night.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
there is no need to shout ;
Well it's Sunday night, the semi-horrible weekend is over. I had a run in with Michelle (as expected) in which I was once again deemed the troublesom, spoiled brat, cold, and uncaring child. This is not new news in that household since I left; I've been permenately branded, it seems. Anyhow, we started going at it in the kitchen with her hurling words like stones against my skin and I, of course, started bawling. She's the only human being on earth that can reduce me to tears with words. Obviously, she's not of this planet. So there I am, crying against the fridge while she just stares in disgust. Finally, I threw up the white flag. I apologized for all the things she said I was doing and lied once again, telling her I wanted to be friends (over my cold dead body). She started crying too and hugged me. Needless to say, this only made me cry harder.
Aside from that, my weekend was very good. I went to the movies, saw a couple friends, and spent my free time with Fabio, which is always a pleasure. Though he's four years older than me, the age difference isn't a problem on every level I've seen so far. Aside from my blubbering and bi-polar side, which I'm sure freaks him out, things are good between us. Though I have to admit that even though he told me I should call as soon as I get the urge to cut or just feel down like that, I can't bring myself to do it. It's a hard thing to deal with and, quite frankly, I'm scared he won't be able to. That was a major issue with Justin, being from a good background as he is. It wasn't an issue at all with William because we came from similiar households; financial issues, step parents, tempers, siblings, etc. I'm not sure how Fabio will feel once he gets used to me having those off days. I'm afraid to tell him when I am because I don't want to scare the poor boy off! Oh well, I guess sooner or later he'll have to see it though, right?
Speaking of dealing with my melt downs, let's flash back to Friday for a second. Fabio called repeatedly while I was sitting on the wooden bench in the backyard trying to read so I could distract myself. I knew I couldn't answer or I would just let loose the flood of tears I was just barely holding under control. I wanted to talk to him but I knew I couldn't over the phone. So, twenty minutes and about ten phone calls later, he shows up at my door. I can't describe how much that meant to me. Usually I just shut down when I feel like it and I'm totally ignored because everyone assumes I'm just angry or something. I get left alone to stew. He's the first person to show the concern and take the time out of his day to come make sure I was okay. Well that just brought on a whole new wave of tears! It felt great :) . We sat in his car in the school parking lot, barely speaking but getting all the comfort I needed and more. I didn't need to say anything. I just lay there with my head on his chest and my eyes closed and he calmed me down within minutes. Must be a magic touch, because no one else can ever do that. I was pretty amazed. I felt fantastic and well loved. It's such a good feeling for a change.
Well, I spent last night sleeping in Fabio's car and didn't manage to get much sleep (the poor boy sleep talks and got up to have a conversation with me at 330am) so I'm pretty much wiped. Hm.. it's only 9:40pm. Kind of sad, hehe. So good night and I'll post an update soon as I get a little R+R. Sweet dreams!
Aside from that, my weekend was very good. I went to the movies, saw a couple friends, and spent my free time with Fabio, which is always a pleasure. Though he's four years older than me, the age difference isn't a problem on every level I've seen so far. Aside from my blubbering and bi-polar side, which I'm sure freaks him out, things are good between us. Though I have to admit that even though he told me I should call as soon as I get the urge to cut or just feel down like that, I can't bring myself to do it. It's a hard thing to deal with and, quite frankly, I'm scared he won't be able to. That was a major issue with Justin, being from a good background as he is. It wasn't an issue at all with William because we came from similiar households; financial issues, step parents, tempers, siblings, etc. I'm not sure how Fabio will feel once he gets used to me having those off days. I'm afraid to tell him when I am because I don't want to scare the poor boy off! Oh well, I guess sooner or later he'll have to see it though, right?
Speaking of dealing with my melt downs, let's flash back to Friday for a second. Fabio called repeatedly while I was sitting on the wooden bench in the backyard trying to read so I could distract myself. I knew I couldn't answer or I would just let loose the flood of tears I was just barely holding under control. I wanted to talk to him but I knew I couldn't over the phone. So, twenty minutes and about ten phone calls later, he shows up at my door. I can't describe how much that meant to me. Usually I just shut down when I feel like it and I'm totally ignored because everyone assumes I'm just angry or something. I get left alone to stew. He's the first person to show the concern and take the time out of his day to come make sure I was okay. Well that just brought on a whole new wave of tears! It felt great :) . We sat in his car in the school parking lot, barely speaking but getting all the comfort I needed and more. I didn't need to say anything. I just lay there with my head on his chest and my eyes closed and he calmed me down within minutes. Must be a magic touch, because no one else can ever do that. I was pretty amazed. I felt fantastic and well loved. It's such a good feeling for a change.
Well, I spent last night sleeping in Fabio's car and didn't manage to get much sleep (the poor boy sleep talks and got up to have a conversation with me at 330am) so I'm pretty much wiped. Hm.. it's only 9:40pm. Kind of sad, hehe. So good night and I'll post an update soon as I get a little R+R. Sweet dreams!
Friday, July 10, 2009
all these things i try to hide ;
So, here comes my very first post. I've been free from cutting for the past two or three weeks and today has been a horrible day. So instead of cutting I decided to take some advice and try to vent my frustrations via blog. I guess I'll start with a brief history so you can better understand where I'm coming from.
At twelve years old I moved into a new home with my father, mother, and two older brothers. My parents were constantly at each other's throats but tried to play it off as nothing. Unfortunately for them, I picked up on more than they thought. All the screaming and money problems that popped up because of my mom's secret gambling addiction was very stressful and and began to realize I was experienceing depression. I kept these realizations to myself. I experimented with cutting but had no real interest in it just then. I reached a point where I actually bashed my head with a hammer then covered it all up so no one could see. I guess you could say that was my first run in with suicide. A few years later when I was fifteen my parents finally divorced. This was hardly a surprise. The real surprise was that my mom declared herself a lesbian and that was the real reason for the divorce. I wasn't really upset, I thought it would be best for both my parents and possibly the whole family. By this time my two brothers had moved out.
I lived with my dad at our nice little country home for a few months until he suddenly brought up the subject of his girlfriend. He didn't mention how long they had been dating. I automatically assumed he had probably sought out from her what he wasn't getting from my mom in the final months before the divorce. I was edgy, of course, but reluctantly agreed to meet her. We met and I was pleasently surprised. She seemed nice enough and eager to please. About two months later Michelle and her three children moved from Cali to Canada and into my dad's house. I took an immediate dislike to the children, who looked for any excuse to get me in trouble with Michelle. In September, about two or three months after moving in and my leaving my fathers house to live with my mother, Michelle and my dad got married. It was excruciating.
My mother's first girlfriend Sherry, who I also suspected she had been seeing during the marriage, was a real nut job. This poor woman chain smoked like there was no tomorrow and was constantly making racial or inappropriate slurs. And she always stunk, which was off putting all on it's own. Sherry controlled my compassionate mom and turned her against me slowly until September when I pounced on my mom, accusing her of all she'd been doing wrong, and all that Sherry was doing wrong to her. My mom asked Sherry to move out. Sherry procceeded to tell me that my bi-polar and depressed mother was going to kill herself now and it was my own damn fault. This still haunts me today, I never expect my mom to return any time she leaves the house; it's a horrible haunting thought. I began to cut frequently soon after this incident.
By this time I was in my first serious relationship. My boyfriend, William, was very supportive. Our relationship lasted one year and seven months. The year was great, the months following it were hell. Sexual abuse was frequent and I also knew he had been cheating on me. At this point I had begun to develop a fear of abandonment and so I said nothing. I just tried to do everything right. In the end he left me for her, and I turned back to cutting. I cut everyday, up to ten times a day. I did it on my thigh so no one would know. I'd cut huge slices then slip on a dress or jeans and go sit with my family, thinking to myself how funny it was that I could have cut an arterie and there I sat bleeding while they looked on, oblivious. Half of me was realizing I was sick, the other half didn't give a damn. It was my body, I believed I deserved every ounce of pain. If I bled, then I was human, not what they made me.
By this time I had moved to the city an hour away from my former home. My mother came with me and we got an apartment where we could barely afford the rent and were barely scraping by. My mother left every weekend to go to NS to see her new girlfriend and left me alone, usually with no food in the fridge. I turned sixteen.
Three weeks after the break up I met another guy, Justin. He was the opposite of every single man I had ever met. I had never fallen so quickly for an individual, I was so swept up in him I could hardly believe it. We had something good for about two months before I discovered he's a pathalogical liar. He lied to me about absolutely everything and expected me to go along with it. After the shit I had endured with William, he was in for a surprise. By our sixth month we were both miserable, I found myself crying constantly. Then came my second suicide attempt. My mom wasn't at home, as usual, and I downed any pills I could find on the bath room shelf. I lay on the floor crying bitterly, a suicide note beside my leg, still dressed in the fancy night gown I had bought for our six month anniversary, which he had ditched me for to go get drunk during the day. Classy, right? Anyway, I lay waiting for it all to end. It didn't. I don't know how or why, but nothing happened. I was alive and well. Okay, alive, at least. I was disappointed. On some level, I still am. A month later I was rushed to the hospital after slicing my wrists open at school with a piece of metal in the bathroom during a break down. This occured three weeks after our break up.; we had dated for several months. I had let him fully in and in a lot of ways he hurt me more than any physical pain William dealt me. I knew how to deal with the physical, the emotional was the real drag. I still have trouble coping.
Now here I am, July 10, 2009, still raging war with myself. I want out of this misery. I'm at a loss. The Prozac works some days, other days I'm back with my fifteen year old self on the edge of my bed with the kitchen knife. I have constant daymares and find myself thinking sick things and tracing over the scars on my wrists. I live with my nan, who I am extremely close with and who has congestive heart failure (she's 86), and my aunt, which whom I am also extremely close. My dad resides in the same small town we were in for so long with his wife and kids. My mom has recently left me to go live in NS with her girlfriend of failing health. I have not cut in three weeks. Let's hope it stays that way. Oh, and I'm also seeing a new guy, Fabio, who is four years my senior and much more stable. Let's see how this pans out. I hope it turns out better than my previous picks. I think the age difference might be a plus, and he's just a fun guy to be with, I really care about him. I fall hard, so let's hope I don't lose my head this time ;) !
At twelve years old I moved into a new home with my father, mother, and two older brothers. My parents were constantly at each other's throats but tried to play it off as nothing. Unfortunately for them, I picked up on more than they thought. All the screaming and money problems that popped up because of my mom's secret gambling addiction was very stressful and and began to realize I was experienceing depression. I kept these realizations to myself. I experimented with cutting but had no real interest in it just then. I reached a point where I actually bashed my head with a hammer then covered it all up so no one could see. I guess you could say that was my first run in with suicide. A few years later when I was fifteen my parents finally divorced. This was hardly a surprise. The real surprise was that my mom declared herself a lesbian and that was the real reason for the divorce. I wasn't really upset, I thought it would be best for both my parents and possibly the whole family. By this time my two brothers had moved out.
I lived with my dad at our nice little country home for a few months until he suddenly brought up the subject of his girlfriend. He didn't mention how long they had been dating. I automatically assumed he had probably sought out from her what he wasn't getting from my mom in the final months before the divorce. I was edgy, of course, but reluctantly agreed to meet her. We met and I was pleasently surprised. She seemed nice enough and eager to please. About two months later Michelle and her three children moved from Cali to Canada and into my dad's house. I took an immediate dislike to the children, who looked for any excuse to get me in trouble with Michelle. In September, about two or three months after moving in and my leaving my fathers house to live with my mother, Michelle and my dad got married. It was excruciating.
My mother's first girlfriend Sherry, who I also suspected she had been seeing during the marriage, was a real nut job. This poor woman chain smoked like there was no tomorrow and was constantly making racial or inappropriate slurs. And she always stunk, which was off putting all on it's own. Sherry controlled my compassionate mom and turned her against me slowly until September when I pounced on my mom, accusing her of all she'd been doing wrong, and all that Sherry was doing wrong to her. My mom asked Sherry to move out. Sherry procceeded to tell me that my bi-polar and depressed mother was going to kill herself now and it was my own damn fault. This still haunts me today, I never expect my mom to return any time she leaves the house; it's a horrible haunting thought. I began to cut frequently soon after this incident.
By this time I was in my first serious relationship. My boyfriend, William, was very supportive. Our relationship lasted one year and seven months. The year was great, the months following it were hell. Sexual abuse was frequent and I also knew he had been cheating on me. At this point I had begun to develop a fear of abandonment and so I said nothing. I just tried to do everything right. In the end he left me for her, and I turned back to cutting. I cut everyday, up to ten times a day. I did it on my thigh so no one would know. I'd cut huge slices then slip on a dress or jeans and go sit with my family, thinking to myself how funny it was that I could have cut an arterie and there I sat bleeding while they looked on, oblivious. Half of me was realizing I was sick, the other half didn't give a damn. It was my body, I believed I deserved every ounce of pain. If I bled, then I was human, not what they made me.
By this time I had moved to the city an hour away from my former home. My mother came with me and we got an apartment where we could barely afford the rent and were barely scraping by. My mother left every weekend to go to NS to see her new girlfriend and left me alone, usually with no food in the fridge. I turned sixteen.
Three weeks after the break up I met another guy, Justin. He was the opposite of every single man I had ever met. I had never fallen so quickly for an individual, I was so swept up in him I could hardly believe it. We had something good for about two months before I discovered he's a pathalogical liar. He lied to me about absolutely everything and expected me to go along with it. After the shit I had endured with William, he was in for a surprise. By our sixth month we were both miserable, I found myself crying constantly. Then came my second suicide attempt. My mom wasn't at home, as usual, and I downed any pills I could find on the bath room shelf. I lay on the floor crying bitterly, a suicide note beside my leg, still dressed in the fancy night gown I had bought for our six month anniversary, which he had ditched me for to go get drunk during the day. Classy, right? Anyway, I lay waiting for it all to end. It didn't. I don't know how or why, but nothing happened. I was alive and well. Okay, alive, at least. I was disappointed. On some level, I still am. A month later I was rushed to the hospital after slicing my wrists open at school with a piece of metal in the bathroom during a break down. This occured three weeks after our break up.; we had dated for several months. I had let him fully in and in a lot of ways he hurt me more than any physical pain William dealt me. I knew how to deal with the physical, the emotional was the real drag. I still have trouble coping.
Now here I am, July 10, 2009, still raging war with myself. I want out of this misery. I'm at a loss. The Prozac works some days, other days I'm back with my fifteen year old self on the edge of my bed with the kitchen knife. I have constant daymares and find myself thinking sick things and tracing over the scars on my wrists. I live with my nan, who I am extremely close with and who has congestive heart failure (she's 86), and my aunt, which whom I am also extremely close. My dad resides in the same small town we were in for so long with his wife and kids. My mom has recently left me to go live in NS with her girlfriend of failing health. I have not cut in three weeks. Let's hope it stays that way. Oh, and I'm also seeing a new guy, Fabio, who is four years my senior and much more stable. Let's see how this pans out. I hope it turns out better than my previous picks. I think the age difference might be a plus, and he's just a fun guy to be with, I really care about him. I fall hard, so let's hope I don't lose my head this time ;) !
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