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I want nothing more than to be that sexy, moody, artistic waif, lounging in a coffeeshop writing poetry, existing off of black coffee and cigarettes.


Wednesday, May 12, 2010

I'm so pissy edgy annoyed irritated upset on edge on edge on edge
i almost started crying at school a couple times.

i woke up at 930 to go to school for my spares and lunch,
to see S.
as soon as i woke up i knew that things weren't completely right.

i get to school, and me and S go to the nautikos room
to do work and hang with Chessy.
ad he's talking and doing his work,
and i get out my notebook to work on some of my Writing assignments
and i'm supposed to just do this simple word manipulation thing
and i start off by writing the example
and then i go to pick a new word, and i can't think
but then i think tree, so i write tree.
and then while i'm thinking of adjectives to go with tree,
i'm mentally abusing myself.
no, are you fucking stupid, a tree can't be loving
and then my brain just stops.

and i look at the word tree that i've written.
and it doesn't look right.
and i'm off in my own world now.

i rewrite it just below.
and again.
and again.
and again.
i rewrite tree all the way down the page,
trying to get it to look perfect.

i'm shaky, my hands can't perfect the letters

i get to the bottom of the page
and then i go back up beside the first word.
i try to write the e's perfectly.
i can't do it.

S stops what he's doing,
writing me cute little messages in my notebook.
he comes over behind me to hold me and kiss my cheek.
he stops and looks at my page.

"Uhm, what are you doing ?"

I had already realized that this looked alittle weird.
more than alittle weird.
i didn't quite know what to say,
without giving away all of my insanity.
yet insanity had already taken me over.

"I was trying to make it perfect. It didn't look right."

He kind of looked at me funny,
and made some comment as a joke, i don't remember.

he goes back to writing cute messages in my notebook.

i pick up the paper and start ripping the edges,
just ripping little notches, about a centimeter apart.
all the way around.

S asks me what i'm doing.
I say i'm ripping paper.

I don't tell him that I rip paper when i'm fucked up.
Whenever i'm upset, whenever i'm gone,
i rip paper.
it gives my hands something to do that my mind can focus on
perfection, get them perfect, all the way around.

then i rip a strip off the side,
and rip it into spirals,
then rip notches into the edges of the strips
i almost cry when i rip it in half.
but i hide that, that wouldn't look right,
that wouldn't look healthy,
that wouldn't look normal.

i am not normal.

the day didn't get much better.
i left bio early, got home and felt slightly better,
crawled into bed to read.

i'm still not so okay.

i'm weird when i'm sick.

i'm going insane.

i'm still fat.

i'm too tired to run.

but all i want to do is run and run and not have to stop.

I want my brother, i want B.
i want him now.
I miss him.
He needs me.
he texted me the other day asking when i was in town next,
i told him i didn't know, asked why.
he said because he needed a 45 minute hug.

when B needs a hug,
something is really wrong.

he wouldnt tell me what was wrong,
then he went to work, stopped texting.

i'd call him if i knew when his work schedule was.

i miss B.

I'm so fucked up.