2007

A year of suck.

I don't want to live through another year.

Choices, choices, choices...

Money!!!

My blog has earned me 32 cents, by hosting a Google ad. If people click on the link, then I get something like 6 cents. And when I get to $100, then Google will actually give me the money. Everybody click the link! Multiple times! Hurry!

Apologies

My hands really hurt. Punching stone buildings is never a good idea. I have a couple of fag burns on my arm, but other than that, I'm ok.

I'm sorry I was a crazy drunk. I'm sorry I hurt everybody. Please forgive me.

London

It was cold. But OK. I don't think I spoke more than twice the entire time. There were pictures, not very interesting to be honest. So much of modern art is utter shite. But some, some were good and special and meant something to me. Some were awesome, in their skill and perfection and wholeness of existence.
There was a man with a hawk at St. Pancras station. It was the best thing. He has his fierce bird of prey, and sends it out to scare pigeons.
A tramp on the tube scared me. He was walking down the trains, begging for any spare change. He had gangrene, walked with a stick. Scared me so much with the misery of his existence that I'm dizzy and horrible. The whole world spins out like crazy and for some reason all the nasty gets spun into me at the centre.
London is dirty. And there are lots of people running. Everyone else had fun. Its calming to listen to others talking and laughing so effortlessly.

Headache

I have.

Detox does this. Or it might be staring at a computer screen with wonky glasses.

I'm going to London tomorrow for art. I'm dreading it. I don't know any of my art group, don't really want to know anybody to be honest.
Big cities make me want to run. To jump in, lose myself, vanish in the noise and dirt and crowds. In the city, you can be free and alone and invisible. But I can't run. Not tomorrow. I have to stay, look at art, when I'm not in a visual phase. I can't see. I can only look and scribble dumb meaningless notes and scrawl far too cautious sketches which don't resemble anything and crawl out of the paper to scream failure and inadequacy at me.
Phases. So irritating. All of my life governed by some bizarre external/uncontrolled subconscious force, deciding whether I can read or write or draw or speak or move or care. For a month I can paint, then the brush turns to worms and the paint splatters and smudges in all the wrong ways. So I start to write, to speak, to natter and ramble on and on and on. Then it all starts to dry up. So I lie in my bed and cry with dry eyes until I feel lines criss crossing my mind and its time to paint crimson. Every stage interchangeable and I never know what I need next. No wonder I have no future plans, when every few months, weeks, days, I'm a different person, shiny and new or dragged out from the depths of the past old.
There have been too many different stages, new acts, but no new scenes. This characterisation is disintegrating, do you believe in reincarnation?

Ultra Spintastic 2 Minded Being

I really don't know what I feel any more. Its like, I veer from hope to crushing despair every few minutes. It really is tiresome.

HOPE
I got my first tattoo. Star outline behind my right ear.
I'm detoxing. Juice fasting. Or juice and soya milk fasting anyway.
I'm not dead.

DREAD
I couldn't go to school last week through depression and anxiety attacks.
A friend tried to kill themself.
I'm dreading Christmas. At my Grandma's house, at Grandad's nursing home. Being watched. Seeing everyone try to be happy in spite of it all. In spite of the obvious, screaming blackhole horror of the situation.
I'm utterly paranoid that I have no friends and I'm forgotten and rotting here in this hole.
I'm just paranoid really.
Everybody thinks that I'm just too lazy to do anything, to go out, to finish my work. When in my ideal world, I'd be doing everything, efficiently and on time. I'd be the perfect student. But to be honest, it's far too difficult to read even one page.
I'm just thick.
I'm so fucking pessimistic. I whine all the fucking time. The Dread list is about ten times bigger than the hope list. Really, girl, just SHUT UP!

Oh yeah, I forgot to add: I'm really fucking fat.

Anger

I've suddenly become an angry person. I think its PMS.

But really. I'm punching walls, smashing my head against walls, yelling at people for really odd reasons.

Everything is wrong. I only realised how irrational I was being when I had to turn some breadsticks around so they weren't pointing at me. Then I got pissed of when my brother moved them back round. They were pointing at me. BAD. BAD. BAD. Errrgh. I'm supposed to be doing German revision now. But to be honest, I can't focus enough. I think I'll go take a bath. Or something.

God I'm just so agitated. There are all sorts of rubbishes fleeing about inside my head. Family's problems. Problems. Random crap. What the hell. What the hell what the hell what the hell.
I'm pathetic. Totally pathetic. What am I doing wrong? Why doesn't it work?






What the hell what the fuck what am i even on about these days? I want to cry but i can't and I really don't know what is wrong I know there is something, but what? You can't be afraid of a nothing. But really, isn't the nothing what we all fear the most? Nothing happening, nothing. Empty. Alone. Dead and gone into eternal nothingness. Just no. I've been taking my meds I have I swear. I mean I really have I've been doing everything right I ate good I exercised I did work I went out. But everything goes wrong and all my monsters are here to eat me or maybe I will eat them you never know. Fucking eating disorders you never know which way they're gonna go.
Wait I don't have an ED i don't have a problem I have to tell the psychiatrist that I'm fine because she won't help me anyway. I want to leave. I thought I had left. No it all came back. I failed as usual. I should have been born dead it would have been so much less trouble. Smash your ugly face in you crazy bitch. What the hell. Really. This is like what it is in my head. It's all background noise, I can't usually make out what's being said, but its there and and it fills up and I want to escape but you really can't escape your own head is it? They hate you. Paintings I want to go home. Oh no oh god. Meow. Hahahahahahaha. Lalalaa. It all fades into an inaudible buzz. I've not heard voices, i don't even know what my mind is trying to tell me except that I'm fat and that something dread is going to happen but isn't it always? Maybe I should get some better meds. Tranquilisers or sleeping pills or something worthwhile. Something to fix everything and make me bright and beautiful. Hahahaha as if. Dreamer.

Somethingy

I'm ill, again. You see, I got epically drunk on Saturday. And so caught a cold. And, having this cold, I smoked cigarettes. Then did a 50 minute workout. And the next morning, I was dread poorly. And losing my voice.

We had tutor review day today. Basically a progress check to see how you're doing in school. And it seems I'm really not doing so great. Which is hardly surprising, given my 52% attendance rate. I'm predicted B in Psychology and English Lit. a D in Art, and a U in German. A U?!!?!!?! That really is unecessarily harsh. Ok, so I've missed pretty much every German lesson this year, but... well, I should be able to get at least an E. I hope. Man, who am I kidding? I fucking suck. And I'm no good at art. I'll never get into art school. I can probably make it to study something crap like English, but I really have no talent. And that is one sucky realisation to have to face.

Other news... well, I realised why I was so fat, andwhy I'm ill all the time. It's the Pill. So I'm not taking it any more, and I'll see if my immune system starts immuning me from stuff again. This is my approach to medicine. I should have become a doctor.

Waste

I jusat wasted my entire night's work. I totally screwed up my painting, to the extent that I had to cut out the whole page from my sketchbook. I want to cry. I make me sick.

The dreams are getting more real. The world is going grey. And I think I'm disappearing.

Vegan

Yes. I am now vegan. Meaning much inconvenience for anyone who tries to feed me.

Now, my reasons: Animal products have been inside animals. That is icky. Unclean, impure, gross, diseased. And it is not nice for animals to be treated as food machines and kept in boxes. Animals cause pollution and use up resources, contributing to global warming, the apocalypse, etc. etc.

Really, it is irrational. Animal stuff. Ewwwwwwww. Except honey, I don't mind that. But really, just don't try and make me food. It won't work. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Fuckin' Psycho

Well, according to the internet I am. I've gone from various mild disorders, to 'moderate to severe' Bipolar I disorder. Although there is still a hope that it could be bipolar II, the less severe kind.

Don't worry, it's all bollocks. I also have moderate ADHD and anxiety, and a high probability of being an alcoholic, having OCD and having an eating disorder. Online psychiatric testing - you know its the future. All these spurious and exaggerated diagnoses must be making fortunes for the drugs companies, who have convenient ads placed next to the quizzes. Why does everything have to be driven by money? How much have I netted for Bayer pharmaceuticals in my life? They invented heroin. And I still pop their little green pills like a good child, taking NHS money for 'treatment' that has NO EFFECT WHATSOEVER. One day some taxpayers will kill me for wasting their money. Not to mention the thousands of pounds in hospital visit, blood tests, antibiotics, inhaler, jabs, doctors visits, regular therapy, malaria tablets, cream etc.

All this medical intervention, and without it I would still be here, in about the same state as I am now. No, wait. Without the existance of Parvolex I might be in a bad way, possibly dead. And there is the faint possibility that I could have contracted malaria if I had visited the tropics without taking malaria tablets. (By the way, they are the most foul tasting pills in existance. Honestly, that is no lie. They have the bitterest chemical taste ever.) But modern medicine can go screw. I think I'm just angry because it hasn't miraculously fixed me.

Yucky

*WARNING* This post is a depressing and annoying moan * ED trig*

I feel so gross today. 132 lbs. Just, really, what the fuck? Granted, I weighed myself after a big meal, but how much difference will that really make? I'm still too fucking fat. And yeah, I'm moaning, but what am doing about it? Nothing. In fact, I'm eating. Thats a great way to lose weight and tone up.

I don't want to go crazy here. I really can not be arsed with eating disorders any more. But I swear, if I don't do something, then I'll go insane anyway. I know the obvious solution to this is to diet. But my idea of 'on a diet' is everyone else's idea of 'a fucking deathwish' so really, let us not go there. Or... well, maybe... God no. Its not like I can do that anymore. If I don't eat right, I get sick way too easily. I've really sensitized myself to it.

Fucking Hell. This time last year I think I was 49 kilos. And I was in hospital after ODing. bviously, thin doesn't mean happy. But fat definitely equals depressed. Really, I want to get to a stable weight, around 8 st. 7lb. Thats healthy, but I don't look like a fucking whale. I'm just so disgusted at myself right now. I want to be sick just looking at myself. I want to jump off of a fucking bridge. In the interests of sanity, I have to lose weight.

Running

Yes, I bought some trainers.

I ran about 100 metres before I nearly died. I really need to practice this a bit more. And maybe give up smoking. And lose weight. And get a really high pain threshhold.

I really can't believe how unhealthy I am. I knew I was bad, but this is ridiculous. I'll be dead by the time I'm 30 if I don't fix some shit.

A week off

Yes, it is half term. So I have a week in which to do pretty mkuch what I like. Which probably means sleeping.

Update on last post: Dave had run out of credit and was really busy. Saw him on Saturday. Got drunk. As usual. It is a while since I saw my boyfriend while completely sober. Actually, its a while since I went out at all and remained sober. Nothing is fun unless I drink. By the way, Apple Sours are really amazing.

Now, what else? Well, my lip piercing is a bit manky. Its yellow. Which is really not that nice. It has two weeks untill its supposed to be healed though, and it is getting better.

And now, the most improbable plan I have ever made: I want to start running. At the moment I do no exercise whatsoever. And I feel like hibernating. So maybe if I run about, then it'll wake me up. And I'll get more healthy, and not be ill all the time, and everything will be great. I just need some trainers. See, thats how lazy I am now - I don't even own a single pair of trainers.

Yeah... Fail.

Fail is my new favourite word.

And I think it pretty much sums up my recent life. I'm just being an absolute, total, failure. Drinking at 11am. Cutting. Drinking at 1pm. Getting stoned. Going out getting trashed. Sleeping in my make-up. Waking up with glazed eyes and empty mind.

Boyfriend has now gone AWOL. Hasn't replied to texts for 2 days. I know he wouldn't deliberately blank me. Last I saw him he was heading to work about two hours late. Maybe his boss killed him. God, I'm the most paranoid crazy bitch on the planet. He probably just ran out of credit. Always think of the obvious reasons first, please.

School is ok though. Which is strange. I'm a bit behind through being a lazy 'ho, but never mind. I'm not failing yet, I usually turn up to lessons, and I'm not universally hated. So really, good going.

And now for the bestest thing. I got my lip pierced on Saturday! A ring on the right side of my bottom lip. My lip is still a bit swollen. I think that it was the most painful piercing that I've had so far, in that I nearly actually tensed while it was being done. No, the actual stabbing isn't what hurts. The annoying bit is later, when you have to wait for your skin to heal and accept that a piece of metal now lives in it.

My cosin Ali came round on Saturday. Actually, Friday, but I was out with Dave then so I didn't see him. So Saturday night we went down pub so Ali could see the rubbishness that is Belper on a Saturday night. Well it was all OK. Managed to get quite drunk. Ali pulled a girl called Sarah. Then that twat Joe Mills burned Ali's hand with a fag. For jokes. Yeah... that's really funny.

So Ali was pissed off, and we went home, to where my brother's movie night gathering had turned into 2 very ill kids puking up vodka. And 3 kids happy. Well, Ali decided that it was time to begin the party, so got out a couple of beers, and then proceeded to attack and molest everybody. In a comic and friendly way. Alice, my brother's girl, is really funny when she's drunk. She kept punching people by accident. Then my brother's other mate came back and passed out. Of course, we then drew on his face. But no, Ali had to go further than this, and started to feel up the dead guy's crotch. 'OMG, feel this, he's got a semi-on!' He didn't wake up. Then, Ali put a condom on the guy's cock. And he still didn't wake up. And then, Ali put pubes on his mouth. And we left the poor guy sleeping in happy innocence. The next morning was quite funny.

Body Modification

Yes. Tattoos, piercings, scarifications. I'm making plans, darlings. Here's a list:

• Tongue pierced 2 more times
• Lip pierced with a ring on the left side (possibly both sides)
• Tattoo - star outline behind right ear
• Tattoo/scarification on left side of ribs
• Tattoo of a frog someplace
• Nose ring or stud
• Nipple piercing? Or somewhere worse? Do I dare?

In all that lot will cost about 300 pounds. (For some reason, my keyboard doesn't make the pound symbol. When I press that button, it gives me a #. And when I press the # key, I get a \.)

I know that being a walking freakshow will likely make me unemployable. But hey, look at all the people who want to give me work now. Yeah. Like they even bothered to reply to my applications. I don't need to work. I don't need money. Except to pay for clothes. And shampoo. And hair dye. And piercings. And tattoos. Wow, my plan is so flawed. Let's go!

Trash-Head

I just realised that pretty much every post on this page involves me getting drunk or stoned or both. Oh dear.

Party At My House!

Yes. I was actually allowed a house party. A cocktail party, no less. Although the 'cocktail' thing was basically everybody pouring themselves vile mixtures of spirits. We all got incredibally drunk. And yeah, I know you aren't supposed to get wasted at your own party, but fuck it. I'm not missing out on that amount of free booze. My MUM bought it for me. Good, huh? My 18th birthday party, though I'm not 18 for another 4 days.
Now, my memories are a little hazy, but here are a few things worth blogging from last night. We had weed, now its lost. Teddy got really really fucked. My boyfriend Dave was there. Santi arrived having already drunk nearly a whole bottle of rum. Lara arrived and within 5 minutes was in my bed with Santi. Luckily I'd already used my bed. Sammie and Josh bought me some balloons saying 'it's a boy'. I fell down a hill onto my head, because we walked up to the park in the dark. Did I mention that I was really wasted? Haych and Euan came in Euan's mini. Lol, they are a couple, and they both have an old mini. Everyone was being really couple-y.
There was an INSANE amount of girl on girl action. Becki, Lara and EmmaDyke were at it to start with, then we had Dyke and Santi doubleteaming and '8 fingers!!!!!'. And then Becki left and somehow I ended up joining in. And everyone was watching. Until we went upstairs. Just... that has really lowered my purity test score. And I realised that I am completely oversexed. It's driving me insane. I can get myself off just by thinking about it.
The next morning, Jess was feeling rather ill, but everyone else was fine. Which is quite strange, and probably unfair. Actually, I felt brilliant. So we all had tea and toast, then went on our merry ways.
And I had to tidy up. But nothing got broken, nobody was sick, and there was very little mess. Bring on the next party!

End Of Holidays

Well, I think this has been the best summer holidays ever. And tomorrow, it's all over, and I'm back at school. I don't even mind. I'm doing nice subjects, I'm blonde, and I have some new jeans.

It does mean that I don't get to see Dave in the week so much though. Weekends are amazing though, I think we're going out this weekend for Darren's birthday. Went out last Saturday for Foldey's birthday as well, and soon its my 18th. At last, I will no longer get thrown out of pubs :).

This last 7 or so weeks have been mad fun. Pentrich festival, the house party, weed, pubs, camping, climbing, sea swimming, being in the Belper News (complete with spliff), Whitby, Jess' parties, and generally hanging out with my lovely lovely friends.

This is just a mushy fat lump of love and stuff, so I think I'll shut up and go do something useful. Like MySpace. Or playing Oblivion on the PS3 *geek love*

Jess' Results Day Party

Wow that was fun. Dave met all my friends, everyone got really drunk, I smoked way too many cigarettes, and I invented a new, lethal, cocktail. Absinthe, vodka, and Ribena. Vampsinthe. And yes, it gets you drunk. Especially if it is drunk after huge amounts of alcopops.

Jess always has great parties. Love you Jess!

Me and Dave got home really late. My Mummy doesn't like me much any more. Just because I was really late twice in one week.

I'm going to have my 18th birthday party at the Fleet. Got to get planning!

Drunk

Woooooooooooo! Yeah motherfuckers. I'm drunk.

Absinthe, Vodka, Lambrusco, wine, oh yeah.

It was Sophie and Jess' Masquerade Ball. I wore my ballgown! ultra smexy cool

Though now I'm home I've scrathchiedcut myslef some, it isn't so bad. Tomorrow I swear I'll eat nothing. I'll update on that later, coz I always think I'll fast, but then eat loads. (I suck like that)

But I LOVE alcohol. But I'm not an alky. I only drink at parties. I love parties.

Paris

We left on Saturday 7th at midnight to get to Paris. I never learnt to speak French, but I figured I'd get by. And luckily Anne is doing A level French, so somebody knew what was going on. It was a school trip, so the hotel was scummy, but Paris itself? Gorgeous. And of course, we can get served alcohol. So we drank every night. I have gained some kind of fame for downing a glass of absinthe.

We went to 3 art galleries - Musee de Picasso, Musee d'Orsay, and le Orangerie. We could have gone to more, but our brains were totally full. Monet's Waterlillies are stunning. I didn't think I'd be impressed, I've never been that keen on Monet, but the paintings in real life, were amazing.
Although Anne and Jess are scared of heights, we queued for 2 hourse to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. It really wasn't worth it, aside from the fact that now I can tell people that I've been up the Eiffel Tower.
We went to the Moulin Rouge as well. Not actually inside, that would be quite inappropriate for a school party, but we took our photos of the us in front of the famous red windmill.

I spent a ridiculous amount of money in Paris, mostly on cocktails and other alcohols. Being drunk will never stop being hilarious. Also, there is a collection of stupid quotes, and they were nearly all said by me. I never thought I was saying anything stupid, but practically everything I said ended up being amusing for one reason or another. Maybe I should be a comedian? Or not.

Some mad things happened in Paris. One guy got drunk and decided to climb between two third floor balconies. A teacher happened to be walking in the street below at the time, so he got into a spot of bother.
Then there was the couples saga. At least 4 couples were on the trip, and some ingenious room-swapping led to them all sharing. Then, somebody grassed them up to the teachers. They were not best pleased.

The men in Paris are generally ugly, and they also seem very, errr... forward. They look you up and down, blatantly, as though you were just meat, and some even say 'Ooh la la'. I thought that was just a stereotype. Some really awful guys tried to chat us up, but luckily we all know the French for no. Sadly, we didn't know how to say 'Fuck off, you prick'.

Another amazing note, to add to the joyful Parisian joy, is that, despite eating croissant, bread, jam and orange juice for breakfast, and then eating out for lunch and dinner, and drinking a lot, I didn't put on any weight. It is a true miracle. Or maybe the miles of walking helped. We only got to use the Metro in the last two days. But the Metro is really good. Paris is better than London.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Party

Rocked. Happy birthday Marie.

And yes, I was drunk. Everyone is probably very ashamed of me. But I'm not. I think I did good. It was the best party I ever went to.
And we cleaned the house afterwards. Her house is normally really really clean. And we managed to restore it.

<3 And I like someone now. After a long time of lonliness and hate. <3

Yellow

Half my hair is yellow right now. Hilarious, no? The rest of it will soon be bleached. And then, blue!

Last night we went running over fields in the twilight. Lovely.

I keep panicking. Last night was the worst in a long time. I haven't got any work done. I can't function properly in this world. The urges are coming back. The ghosts. Gods.

Tongue Pierced

Oh yesh. I got my tongue pierced on Friday. I love it.

You can feel the needle squidging through your tongue. It stings a bit, but nothing like real pain.
Later though, your tongue swells up and you can't eat properly. Fun, no?

My parents hate my piercing. I think disgusted is the word. But I don't care. I love it.

Irony blood

Yes, scars. I love em. Which is kind of fortunate, as I'm fekkin' covered.
I'm writing an article about self harm. But... I ended up cutting because I didn't know what to write. Oh the irony. Aren't I amusing?

Also... I'm getting my tongue pierced. Laura is my tongue piercing buddy, because we're going together to get it done. And I may dye my hair some stupid colour. Also, I'm going to yoga with my lovely friend.

I'm feeling randomly creative. I made some stuff out of wire for my room. I've ended up nailing wire jewellery holders to my wardrobe. It looks pretty cool actually. Even though I did that stupid stereotypical thing of hitting my fingers with the hammer.

Sleepless

Its 1:24am. I didn't go to bed because I'm sad and angry. Dad keeps having a go at me for smoking. I purged today as well. I was doing so good. Yeah, for a day.
I suck. I just want to cut myself to pieces right now. I feel so scared. Did I just take my meds too late today? Or is this what my life is going to be like forever?
I want someone to give me a reason. What is wrong with me?

Its head fell off

There was a dead fly on the windowsill. My brother flicked it. And its head fell off.

Torture

I'm torturing myself. This pain is unbearable. Inside, I want to scream, I want to tear my skin off. I pace up and down, I twitch, I bang my wrists. I want to escape. So I smoke cigarettes, eat chocolate, slash my skin.
I need to be rid of this evil. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve to be thin, to be pretty, to be loved. If you knew what was inside my heart you would run from me and never return. Please, leave now, and save yourself.
I need to suffer. This hell just ain't hot enough for a bitch as damned as me.

Sunny

The sun is shining, I went into school, everyone is lovely, I'm smiling in a spaced out way.
Hmm. Too many cigs. Too much health food. I started real healthy eating, and it works. I was always very sceptical. As if eating carbs at lunch and 3 meals a day will make me feel better. But it has.
I'm going to Paris. I'm scared. It's going to be so much fun.
And in a minute I'm going to my friend's house. Ain't life grand?

Tiredness

I seem to be suffering from a weird, constant need to sleep. I am tired all the damn time. I woke up at 8am today, had breakfast, then went to sleep until 12.30. What is wrong with me? I'm not just being lazy here, it just seems I need about twelve hours of sleep to function.

Progress

I don't need to go to counselling and get weighed every week any more. Yay! I only have to go in every two weeks, because, joy of joys, I'm fat enough to be considered healthy. I don't need monitoring.
I think it's just sinking in that I've gained nearly 20lbs. Not 'healthy, recovery, get a healthy weight' type gaining, but 'binge eat and then realise that puking up doesn't help you lose weight' type gaining. Of course, I get congratulations, 'don't you look healthy now' 'you looked so sick before' blah blah blah. They don't have a clue.
Luckily, it's not all gloom and shallow self obsession. I'm eating healthier now, not puking up, and keeping track of my progress. I made a star chart, because I'm sad like that. I feel like I'm actually getting somewhere.

Future Pessimism

I feel hollow and tired and fragile. I don't like it. I want to sleep. My mouth tastes like onions which isn't that nice either.
I'm trying to figure out what to do with myself. The Future: one subject guaranteed to turn me into an instant shiering mess. But I have no choice. If I don't make plans, I'll only regret wasting my life. The only problem is, everything seems too damn hard. I want to do my A-levels. I tried that already. I'm too thick. I didn't even get to my first lot of AS modules without collapsing into a depressive, anorexic, mess. I want to go to uin, study philosophy and English. Or creative writing, or something cool and interesting. Without A-levels, thats not happening. And I want to travel the world, do charity work, be a writer, an artist, a creative genius. Yeah fucking right. I'm going to end up in a pathetic, boring job, living in a boring house, dull and alone, until I die. I won't be missed, I won't be remembered. In the end, we all die alone.

"Death is carried in our beating hearts

It can never outlive us

Without life, death is nothing

So in the end, our death dies with us"

Films

I slept at Lara's last night, we watched the film Ghost Ship. It was pretty good. It built up a nice spooky atmosphere. The ending was not the best. I love films with a friendly ghost in though. It adds balance and gives more depth and reality to the idea of ghosts. Because it really doesn't make sense that a perfectly nice person can die, and then their spirit suddenly becomes evil and tries to kill the innocent. The ghosts of children becoming evil is particularly bad. I don't believe a child can be evil. But more on the nature of evil another blogtime.

I've watched a lot of films lately, so I think I'll comment on them all.
The Exorcist (directors cut) - Quite shocking, but also quite funny in a totally wrong way. An unsettling film, but not as terrifying as its reputation suggests.

Girl, Interrupted - A film I can relate to, as I have had errr... mental health issues. The characters are completely real, brilliant acting, maybe because it is based on a true story it has a lot of reality in it. I nearly cried, but partly from the hope that this film gave me.

Thirteen - This film is totally gripping, your eyes are glued to the screen in unhealthy fascination. I can't believe that the characters are only thirteen though, and sometimes their motivation really is not clear. The ending left me almost in tears, it leaves you in emotional shock.

Grandad

We went to my Grandma’s for Easter. My Grandad has been moved from hospital to a nursing home. He's paralysed, can't speak much and we don't even know if he still has his mind intact. The home is a lot better than the hospital, it's run by BUPA and it has gardens with fountains, and budgies, and a parakeet called Hector who likes to eat my fingernails. Not sure if Grandad is ok. I was so shocked to see how frail he is, the muscles in his legs wasted away. I know he can't be happy. He still enjoyed his Easter egg though! But God, I hope I die quickly before I get old.

Cake

Lara and Marie slept at mine. We had a cake eating contest. I won!
We drank some wine and sat on the roof and took photos and looked at the stars. I love my friends so much. They just can’t eat cake very well.

Pink Bunnies

Me, Raven, Xander, Lara, Jesus, and Eddy went to Alton Towers theme park today. It was so fun I think I'm going to explode in little bubbles of fun-ness. We went on all the big rides: Oblivion, Rita, Nemesis, Air. And Spinball Wizards, the Bath Flume (which is a log flume but with a scary Satanic giant duck in it), and the rapids, where we got an awesome group photo. Rides + poppers = lol. Though possibly not common sense.
Another great thing: because it was Easter time, we got free chocolate! We also were herded by a giant egg to watch a show. Pink acrobatic bunnies. It was great, because you could tell that under the bunny suits were proud and masculine acrobats. They also gave us chocolate. And we bought chocolate fondue, which is like heaven, but tastier. Eddy bought a shot of melted chocolate.

The Cyberman
At City Station, waiting on the opposite platform, was a scary Cyberman. He was bald, and had a head/earpiece, and possessed killer Eye Beams. Really, we were so convinced that this was true. We were watching him from the train. He glared at us. I guess we're lucky to be alive.

I'm Sorry

My God I'm tearing apart I didn't mean it. This always happens when I get drunk, I feel great but then inadvertently cause a major problem for somebody else. I've upset Jesus, a good friend of mine who I hugely respect. I never meant to. I just mentioned that ages (about a year) ago, I got off with her (now ex) boyfriend and Fabi in a 3 way playing spin the bottle. I really don't count spin the bottle as very meaningful. In fact, it means nothing.
If you're reading this, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to hurt you.
I'm a slut, a whore, a bitch, a pisshead, a useless piece of crap. I hurt everyone else when I should be hurting myself.

I'm so selfish that I've fallen down into a horrific pit of self loathing and guilt. Today was shitty anyway, so who cares?

Gun City

I went into the big city today. Everything was strange. I went alone, wearing a very short black skirt and stillettos and a grunge jacket, looking like some kind of tramp-whore. I love my boots. Every time I wear them, random weirdos say 'nice boots'. This time, I had complements on my look from a fat middle aged guy (yes, I was weirded out), a black guy, and a random woman.
A surreal moment... walking down a main street, eating an ice cream, dressed like a tramp, with my bag full of drugs. (I spent my easter egg money on legal drugs. The Egyptian gives me a discount on Salvia. He thinks he's saving me from a life of junkieness.)
I did get Easter eggs. I just skinted myself. Dad picked me up from Derby, we got stuck in traffic, and somehow lost in Hazelwood when he tried to turn around in Duffield. Yes, only my dad could manage that. We got fish and chips. Every time I eat it, I regret it and feel ill. The portions are huge, it's greasy and stodgy and yuck. Anyway I threw up. Which sucks, but I was in so much pain. My stomach is so fucked.

Waking in the Forest

We kind of slept, shivered, and woke up at random points through the night. I felt squished in the tent, and my sleeping bag was very constricting. I hate not being able to move my arms. We awoke later that morning to the sound of a woodpecker, the dawn chorus, and the realisation that it was way too early to be awake. Luckily, I had no hangover. Fabian, being clever, drank a can of Red Bull and then decided to go back to sleep. Or at least, he tried. We judged it a failure, and worked up the energy to get out of the tent into a cold morning. Fabian and Eddy restarted the fire from last night's embers. There was a Grolsch can which had appeared overnight in our empty can pile, and an exploded deoderant can. Nobody had any Grolsch. We concluded that the Blair Witch had come by in the night, blown up the can, and had some Grolsh just to chill out.
Breakfast was scotch pancakes. So good. Why don't I eat them more often? And we had some marshmallows, digestive biscuits, Haribo, stream water and cider. Good eating, huh. Next time, we agreed we would need more water and some tea. I spent a long time by the fire being too cold. They did good with the fire, constructing a saucepan holder from sticks to boil water.
The owner of the woods came down. The Lord of the Forest himself. All old and outdoorsy looking, he asked us whether we had permission to camp in the woods. Errr. He didn't seem annoyed. Must have been impressed by the quality fire, or intimidated by the huge knife Fabi was holding at that time.
We left the campsite clean, and walked down to the road, via the lake where everyone but me paddled. It was too damn cold for that! Dad gave us all a lift home. A good time had been had by all.

Camping in the Forest

Wow. Last night was ultra funny. Me, my brother, Fabian, Eddy, Shane and Jesus went camping in the woods. We met in town, and at first everything seemed like total shit. No one would buy us alcohol, and a certain little **** ripped us off (taking forty quid of my bro's money) so we had no weed. Luckily, once we got on the bus, everything got better. A little off licence in the village near where we were camping served me and Fabian, so we got a crate of beer, 3 bottles of wine, and a bottle of cider. I already had a bottle of Lambrini, and Fabian had something a lot funnier - poppers!
We walked for miles up a huge hill to get to the camping area. It was worth it though. It is in the most beautiful place, with flat ground and a massive fire pit area. We got out the amazing pop-up tent. I tell you, it is the best invention. You take it out of the bag, undo some elastic, and BOING! You have a tent, and you just have to peg it down. Fabian and Eddy made a great fire for us. We all helped, but they have the skills. In fact, everyone has great skills. Shane started whittling a wooden stake as soon as we got there. She wanted to be safe against vampires. Marshmallows were toasted, quorn sausages were grilled, and I made some Alphabetti Spaghetti, because I rock.
Then the drinking began. The guys hate Lambrini, so the girls - Shane, Jesus and Moi - had the bottle to ourselves. I think I had the most, Shane close behind, and Jesus didn't drink much. Everyone else had Carling too, but I can't be arsed with beer. It has too big a volume, I can only drink one can and then I'm full up, but not drunk. Eddy didn't drink, because there was nothing he liked. Apparently he's a whisky man. For a while he looked sad and lonely, but soon we were all happy. Jesus was not really affected by alcohol, she says she's immune to it, but she didn't drink a ridiculous amount. I feel sorry for anyone who is immune to the magical powers of booze. We also had poppers. I'd never had it before, so I was very curious. You just sniff, and then your head goes schwoosch and your eyes go funny, and you feel warm and everything is hilarious for a minute. It's legal too.
We played spin the bottle, I think we all got off with each other except for me and my bro, because that would be sick and wrong and gross. It got quite mad. Me and Shane drank beer off Fabian, I got off with Eddy way too much, and I *think* that I licked Fabian. Only a little lick, mind, nothing bad. My memory gets a little disjointed. I spent some time puking up, lying in brambles, and lying on the ground because Brother floored me, the little tit. Actually, he's taller than me now. It is a traumatic turning point when your younger sibling finally becomes taller than you.
Oh, my God, one thing I remember: I cut Fabian! We all had knives, and were daring each other to cut the other person. I, being 1. Drunk and 2. A bit kinky, had no problem with it. But the others were a bit freaked out. And I really don't know how many times I got called an emo because of the cutting and my scars. Eddy said I was fit though, and I think Fabian did too, which made me feel awesome. See, I'm easily pleased.
Eventually five of us all ended up in a three person tent, freezing our asses off. Jesus went home as she didn't feel good or happy. Me and Fabian could not sleep. Shane and my brother slept a lot, and Eddy tired to be hard and do without a sleeping bag. It was one of those nights where you are never sure if you are going to wake or sleep the next moment. Fabian felt me shivering so hugged up to me to keep warm (I'll pretend I didn't enjoy it).
In the middle of the night there was a gunshot bang. Maybe, I suggested, it could be someone with a gun. Coming to shoot us. I like reassuring people. And a lot of our conversations had turned to the Blair Witch. Eventually Fabian threatened to knife us if we carried on being scary.

Relapse Ahoy!

I really want to starve myself. I want to feel my skin stretched tight over my hipbones, see my ribs defined. I want my belly to go in instead of out, and I want a gaunt face and dead eyes and not to have to feel this any more.
I feel so sick. I ate so much that my stomach can't hold it. It was only dinner and dessert. I think puking up so much has really screwed up my stomach, I really should give it a rest for a while. I'm going to end up being unable to keep any food down otherwise. Though that could be good... No, that would just be messy. Imagine it, eating dinner, then standing up to leave and just throwing up spontaneously all over the table. I must stop eating, for God's sake. Then I won't puke so much, I'll loose weight, and everything will be just tickety-boo.

I went on the rowing machine for an hour straight. I've never done that before. I rowed 10,000m. I know, it's pathetic really, but now I feel like Superwoman. And I ate some Spiderman pasta. So I AM A SUPERHERO! I'm going camping tomorrow with my brother and a bunch of people. We're going to get wasted in the woods. Fun, yeah? I really want to get completely trashed, because I'm fed up of reality.

My Dad is pissing me off. He's nosy, overbearing, immature and inflexible. We keep arguing, but he's always convinced he's right. I may as well keep screaming at a malevolent brick wall. I guess I just have to be adult and try and sort things out sensibly.

Mental

I’ve been out of control lately. Its getting stupid. I took sleeping pills and a load of Prozac, just to knock myself out and make it go away for a while. I don’t like this whole recovery thing, but I think I will do it. I want to grow. I don’t want to be a cripple by the time I’m thirty, stuck in a girl’s body when I should be an adult. I have to move on. It’s just so fucking hard sometimes.

Secrets

And at last the secret is out. I never realised how much it was eating me up inside. I never believed I would lie so much, for so long, to my best friends in the world. I truly am dishonest. I just hope that they can forgive me

Face

I cut my face. This is a new low/ A new concept. I'm so fucking sad today. I want to die. My head is fucking with me. I haven't eaten. I woke up in the middle of the night in a blind panic. Everything sucks major cock. Aaah, cock. Now theres one thing I'm getting none of.

Potato

I'm going to eat baked potato in five minutes.

My life is... thrilling.

I'm Magic!

Yes... I stopped taking my meds. So I went high for two days. Magic. I know that I have the power to effect change in the world through force of will. But I will end up doing black magic, because I'm an evil person. I wished my own Daddy was dead today because he annoyed me. He was shouting. I tried to give him a heart attack. I wish I was dead. And I think I have something wrong with my heart (I am a bit hypochondriacal). I get pains in my chest now and am tired all the time. Then again, it could just be Clonazepam and exercise aches. I hope it's my heart and I'll have a heart attack and die. That would be only fair. I'm not high anymore. I didn't get dressed today even. I'm TIRED. Does nobody understand that? They all dragged me out of bed, the bastards. Threats, shouting, violence. Like they care whether I'm awake or not. They only want me to get back to normal. They think I'm all OK because I'm not thin any more. They found out I was throwing up again though, so now they stalk me. I leave the table, and they yell after me "Where are you going?" "Don't go to the bathroom!" It really really makes me want to puke my guts up. But I can't because they're spying on me all the time. I want to leave home.

You are feeling sleepy...

I slept for six hours today, and ten hours last night. I was put on sleeping pills, you see, and they don't seem to like me. Or, they seem to like me far too much. Oh, the joys of medication.

Today I wanted to do a detox diet called the Master Cleanse. It involves drinking only a special type of lemonade for at least a week. Sounds mad, but I've done it before and it works. I think everyone should try it.
Lemonade recipe: 2tbsp dark organic maple syrup, juice of 1/2 lemon or lime, pinch of cayenne pepper/chilli powder, hot or cold water. Just mix it all up in a mug and drink. I think it tastes gorgeous, I really could live on the stuff. Which is just as well, because for 10 days you have to, to detox the body. You can also drink peppermint tea or laxative tea to purify the body. No food, no pills, no other drinks exept water. After the detox, gently ease back into eating fruit and vegetables, starting with broth and fruit juice. It clears up spots, and you lose the weight of excess water and waste built up in your body, as well as some fat.

Of course, I was not allowed to detox this time. Mum was dead against it. It really sucks being ex anorexic, as every time you try to change your eating habits everyone assumes you are about to starve youself to death.




My mum will not let me detox. She has food issues about what food I eat. I attempt something o better my health, and she immediately thinks that I'm about to starve myself to death. Brilliant. So instead, I've given up processed food. It's going to be hellish, because if you think about it, pretty much all food has been processed in some way.

Welcome

I'm sitting here, eating chocolate biscuits which I will shortly throw up again, and trying to think of a good way to start a blog. My identity must remain unknown, so I will not describe myself in too much detail. However, you need to be able to picture me. I'm a teenage girl, not fat not thin, with messy so-dark-brown-it's-nearly-black hair and brown eyes. I wear glasses, and my ears are pierced a few times. Like pretty much every stereotypical teenage girl, I think I'm hugely fat and abnormally hideous. Although I may have take my self disgust a bit further than is normal or sensible. I was diagnosed anorexic, though I think bulimarexic or just "fuckin' fat greedy bitch" is closer to the truth now that I've gained weight. I'm also diagnosed with a "depressive episode", which means I'm a right whiney cunt and this whole blog will be a tedious waste of time.

The title: This blog is named for my scars. I'm an unashamed self harmer, with hundreds of pink and white scars. Oh, and a grey one, a couple of purple ones and a brownish one, not to mention my cuts. I love them, as a recognition of the survival of my physical form. I have problems sometimes with accepting the fact that I have a physical form. Many days I believe I do not exist. Or am I a ghost? The concept of ghosts is currently obsessing me. Sanity. Because I don't believe in it at all.

I live in a small town, in the same house since I was a year old. I have both parents, and a brother two years younger than me. I was a quiet, clever kid, with a vivid imagination. I made best friends, but they always seemed to move away. Luckily now my best friends Lara and Marie live two roads and two towns away from me respectively. I never felt comfortable as myself. Like too many other people, I never felt like I belonged. Most of my childhood was spent playing at being somebody else, and somewhere along the line, I lost myself forever. I was never popular, often fell out with people, but usually there would be someone there for me to sit next to. And my mum sat with me when I cried myself to sleep. At nine, I cried with terror of the lonliness I knew was coming when my friends left. At eleven, the two most popular girls in my class were bullying me. At seventeen, drowning in utter disgust at my newly fat-covered body. My mum and my friends keep me here, although sometimes it's a close call.