i went to the hospital last night. i'm ok.
why don't they say that on the box? they make it sound like if you take another 2 before 4 hrs have passed you'll be in critical danger. but 8 in 20 minutes. surely that should have been enough.
the CRISIS doctor came to speak to me. i wanted to really talk to him and tell him everything about how i've been feeling, not just for the past month but for the past year or so. wanted to tell him about my dreams and haulucinations and fears and worries.
i couldn't though. somehow. i couldn't. i just sat there. nodded my head. shook it a couple of times. and apparantely that was enough.
Wednesday 15 December 2004
Tuesday 14 December 2004
gulp
yet again, so much has happened since last thursday. it seems tedious to go over absolutely everything that happened, it would take so long.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
Friday 10 December 2004
love will tear us apart
i did my best not to text him yesterday - just the odd 'how r u?' or 'feeling any better?'
and i tried not to phone either. but what's a phone call asking what he's up to? just asking how he is, what he's doing, if he's ok. but apparantely that's part of the crime i've committed too. that and 'not being enough'.
the argument started when i asked him what i should do tonight.
what i said was: you're confusing me. i don't know where i stand. do i stay in washington tomorrow cos of the slightest chance i might get to see you? or do i go and have a laugh with my mates in durham? i want to see you but it's just going to make me feel worse if i wait to see you in concord and you don't come. you're the one who said i'm only young and i need to enjoy myself so what do i do? i don't want to spend tomorrow night in tears, wishing i was with you.
he didn't understand though, at least he didn't want to understand. i understand that he's in a weird place right now but i don't think he realises what it's doing to me. he's suffering? so am i.
and all this shit about needing space. he doesn't need space from anyone else but me. no no. he's quite happy to spend his mornings afternoons evenings and nights in a pub with all his friends. and when i text him i'm 'forcing him to think'.
what does he expect me to do while he's sorting his life out? (and everyone knows the pub's a brilliant place to do that isn't it?) he says he want a break from me. what does he expect me to do? he doesn't want me going out with my friends, he's specifically said he doesn't want me seeing beau (who has a new girlfriend now) and i'm not allowed to see him or talk to him either.
i haven't done anything else for the past year.
for the last week i've got up early, forced myself to go to school, got home and either slept or sat up straight on my black sofa looking at myself in the mirror, thinking.
another downward spiral looms. and i can't take that just now. there's too much in my life to think about, to worry about, to fret over and analyse.
i'm sat here at school writing this and somehow i can't believe i'm here and this is real. i feel so blurry and tired and empty and dead.
i don't believe that any of this real. it feels so impossible.
anyway.
on the phone, after our argument i told him that i can't take much more of this. i can't take being nothing to my boyfriend. he said that wasn't true and he asked him how the hell it wasn't true if hemeant everything he's said to me recently.
and then there was that infamous silence that seems to follow any significant queation i ask anyone.
i wept. still no answer. then i swore and screamed and shouted. another short silence and then he said i need to stop thinking about myself.
i told him we could leave it at that then, and hung up.
no word from either party since.
and i tried not to phone either. but what's a phone call asking what he's up to? just asking how he is, what he's doing, if he's ok. but apparantely that's part of the crime i've committed too. that and 'not being enough'.
the argument started when i asked him what i should do tonight.
what i said was: you're confusing me. i don't know where i stand. do i stay in washington tomorrow cos of the slightest chance i might get to see you? or do i go and have a laugh with my mates in durham? i want to see you but it's just going to make me feel worse if i wait to see you in concord and you don't come. you're the one who said i'm only young and i need to enjoy myself so what do i do? i don't want to spend tomorrow night in tears, wishing i was with you.
he didn't understand though, at least he didn't want to understand. i understand that he's in a weird place right now but i don't think he realises what it's doing to me. he's suffering? so am i.
and all this shit about needing space. he doesn't need space from anyone else but me. no no. he's quite happy to spend his mornings afternoons evenings and nights in a pub with all his friends. and when i text him i'm 'forcing him to think'.
what does he expect me to do while he's sorting his life out? (and everyone knows the pub's a brilliant place to do that isn't it?) he says he want a break from me. what does he expect me to do? he doesn't want me going out with my friends, he's specifically said he doesn't want me seeing beau (who has a new girlfriend now) and i'm not allowed to see him or talk to him either.
i haven't done anything else for the past year.
for the last week i've got up early, forced myself to go to school, got home and either slept or sat up straight on my black sofa looking at myself in the mirror, thinking.
another downward spiral looms. and i can't take that just now. there's too much in my life to think about, to worry about, to fret over and analyse.
i'm sat here at school writing this and somehow i can't believe i'm here and this is real. i feel so blurry and tired and empty and dead.
i don't believe that any of this real. it feels so impossible.
anyway.
on the phone, after our argument i told him that i can't take much more of this. i can't take being nothing to my boyfriend. he said that wasn't true and he asked him how the hell it wasn't true if hemeant everything he's said to me recently.
and then there was that infamous silence that seems to follow any significant queation i ask anyone.
i wept. still no answer. then i swore and screamed and shouted. another short silence and then he said i need to stop thinking about myself.
i told him we could leave it at that then, and hung up.
no word from either party since.
Thursday 9 December 2004
sand and water
i was with him for about an hour or so last night. he's so different. it felt so queer sitting next to him in the car he'd borrowed from someone.
we went to his mam's house and i sat and watched him from the other side of the room. he has these nervous ticks and twitches now. he looked like an old man. scared. lonely. cold. tired. and bitter.
the whole scene just seemed sad and grey and worthy of tears. but i sip my coffee and smile at his mother and thank her for the big mug in my hands. his eyes don't leave the tv screen. like a vegetable. mouth open. gourmless expression.
i was deflating rapidly, my chest caving in like my bones were made of sand. sand and water mixing inside me, turning my insides into cement.
still a smile on my face.
the lights on her pitiful christmas tree flicker and then all go out. all three of us turn our heads and look. no one says anything. then we turn back to the tv screen.
i felt like i was dying. more sand, more water, more cement, hardening into concrete.
i put my mug down. i ask for a cigarette. i smoke it all without flicking it once.
and all this time my insides are screaming in agony. the cement is setting, almost sold concrete now. i can already feel cracks forming.
and then he drives me home in the car with doors that don't close and no windscreen wipers. we get to my house and he leans towards me. slow motion sets in and i think, "ok, so this is the kiss. maybe this is what we need."
and he kisses me on my forehead.
and the cracks grow and grow, and i shatter into tiny little pieces in the front passenger seat. he doesn't notice though, so i get out and tie the door closed. step into my house and turn to wave goodbye.
he's already gone though.
we went to his mam's house and i sat and watched him from the other side of the room. he has these nervous ticks and twitches now. he looked like an old man. scared. lonely. cold. tired. and bitter.
the whole scene just seemed sad and grey and worthy of tears. but i sip my coffee and smile at his mother and thank her for the big mug in my hands. his eyes don't leave the tv screen. like a vegetable. mouth open. gourmless expression.
i was deflating rapidly, my chest caving in like my bones were made of sand. sand and water mixing inside me, turning my insides into cement.
still a smile on my face.
the lights on her pitiful christmas tree flicker and then all go out. all three of us turn our heads and look. no one says anything. then we turn back to the tv screen.
i felt like i was dying. more sand, more water, more cement, hardening into concrete.
i put my mug down. i ask for a cigarette. i smoke it all without flicking it once.
and all this time my insides are screaming in agony. the cement is setting, almost sold concrete now. i can already feel cracks forming.
and then he drives me home in the car with doors that don't close and no windscreen wipers. we get to my house and he leans towards me. slow motion sets in and i think, "ok, so this is the kiss. maybe this is what we need."
and he kisses me on my forehead.
and the cracks grow and grow, and i shatter into tiny little pieces in the front passenger seat. he doesn't notice though, so i get out and tie the door closed. step into my house and turn to wave goodbye.
he's already gone though.
Wednesday 8 December 2004
right to be wrong
things managed to get worse. he ended it. finally. for good.
and i'm devastated.
a year down the drain. so many memories and good times and first time experiences with him.
what have i done though? why is it just me he's punishing? none of his friends are sitting with stomach pains and tears in their eyes, worrying about him. i am. is that the crime i've committed?i can't go through this again. i was here last year and it took a knight in shining armour on a white horse to rescue me. and now even he's left me. and it's christmas soon
and i'm devastated.
a year down the drain. so many memories and good times and first time experiences with him.
what have i done though? why is it just me he's punishing? none of his friends are sitting with stomach pains and tears in their eyes, worrying about him. i am. is that the crime i've committed?i can't go through this again. i was here last year and it took a knight in shining armour on a white horse to rescue me. and now even he's left me. and it's christmas soon
Tuesday 7 December 2004
something
yet again, so much has happened since last thursday. it seems tedious to go over absolutely everything that happened, it would take so long.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
Thursday 2 December 2004
the oasis
anthony's home for good tonight. his transfer has gone through and he'll be in newcastle by either tonight or tomorrow morning. it took a nervous breakdown to get him there though.
there has been word from adam, but no word back to him. i think my cheating days are over. it never used to bother me, but now the guilt is too much too handle. i guess i am human after all.
it felt so strange to see anthony so vulnerable over the last few days. i didn't know how to comfort him; couldn't make myself watch him cry.
on sunday we went to watch the match with his uncle in a pub called the oasis in the galleries. after a few hours and a few cans on anthonys behalf, and a few cokes on mine, somehow, for some reason, he ended up going mental.
i walked away from him in the pub. said i was going home. he followed me. the galleries was empty. he flew off the handle, went nuts, started throwing me against shops windows and metal shutters, clenched his hands around my neck, threw me on the floor, kicked me in the stomach while i lay there in tears.
then the security guards came.
we left.
he followed me home. i felt numb, didn't hear him screaming at me, ignored him when he grabbed me.
after a while we were sitting in my room, he was in tears, sobbing on my blue sofa, i was on my black sofa, sitting straight and expressionless. he made the decision to leave the army then. he should have caught his train half an hour before this.
he went back to his base yesterday morning to get his car and his things. then he's back forever.
great, right?
there has been word from adam, but no word back to him. i think my cheating days are over. it never used to bother me, but now the guilt is too much too handle. i guess i am human after all.
it felt so strange to see anthony so vulnerable over the last few days. i didn't know how to comfort him; couldn't make myself watch him cry.
on sunday we went to watch the match with his uncle in a pub called the oasis in the galleries. after a few hours and a few cans on anthonys behalf, and a few cokes on mine, somehow, for some reason, he ended up going mental.
i walked away from him in the pub. said i was going home. he followed me. the galleries was empty. he flew off the handle, went nuts, started throwing me against shops windows and metal shutters, clenched his hands around my neck, threw me on the floor, kicked me in the stomach while i lay there in tears.
then the security guards came.
we left.
he followed me home. i felt numb, didn't hear him screaming at me, ignored him when he grabbed me.
after a while we were sitting in my room, he was in tears, sobbing on my blue sofa, i was on my black sofa, sitting straight and expressionless. he made the decision to leave the army then. he should have caught his train half an hour before this.
he went back to his base yesterday morning to get his car and his things. then he's back forever.
great, right?
Tuesday 30 November 2004
leeches
christ.
there's so much to say since i last wrote.
there always is though, i suppose.
and i'm too tired, too sore, too hurt and upset to be here and do anything.
a double free period this morning, then almost three hours sleep until lunch time. then this. sciving from PE.
i hate this place so so much. it's like a prison. blood sucking leeches posted at every classroom, every corridor.
i have no energy.
poor poor anthony. he's so unwell. inside and out.i hope he gets better soon.
there's so much to say since i last wrote.
there always is though, i suppose.
and i'm too tired, too sore, too hurt and upset to be here and do anything.
a double free period this morning, then almost three hours sleep until lunch time. then this. sciving from PE.
i hate this place so so much. it's like a prison. blood sucking leeches posted at every classroom, every corridor.
i have no energy.
poor poor anthony. he's so unwell. inside and out.i hope he gets better soon.
leeches
christ.
there's so much to say since i last wrote.
there always is though, i suppose.
and i'm too tired, too sore, too hurt and upset to be here and do anything.
a double free period this morning, then almost three hours sleep until lunch time. then this. sciving from PE.
i hate this place so so much. it's like a prison. blood sucking leeches posted at every classroom, every corridor.
i have no energy.
poor poor anthony. he's so unwell. inside and out.i hope he gets better soon.
there's so much to say since i last wrote.
there always is though, i suppose.
and i'm too tired, too sore, too hurt and upset to be here and do anything.
a double free period this morning, then almost three hours sleep until lunch time. then this. sciving from PE.
i hate this place so so much. it's like a prison. blood sucking leeches posted at every classroom, every corridor.
i have no energy.
poor poor anthony. he's so unwell. inside and out.i hope he gets better soon.
Thursday 25 November 2004
sometimes you can't make it on your own
in my free now.
lets see. tuesday night i went to adam's house. the guilt's starting to get worse and worse now. every time we met things seem to get a little more out of hand, not in physical terms but in the way we look at each other, speak to each other... think of each other.
when i get out of his car after a night of being with him i forget about him until he texts me a couple of says later. i would never have done that a year or so ago. i've noticed this quite a lot lately. in the past i tended to suffocate people as though if i didn't hold onto them they'd disappear.
i did this to jordan. i held onto him, held him down, forced him to hang onto whatever it was that remained of our relationship. i knew he wanted to let go. i wouldn't let him though. and in the end he let me down. he forced me to let him go, and he left me alone. i even remember when it happened.
i had been crying while we were making love. he didn't ask why, he didn't want to know why. he already knew. but still, he said nothing. he knew i was in so much pain, hurting so much inside, and he didn't want to know. it had everything to do with him, and he pretended everything was fine, everything was normal.
i remember looking up at him, vision blurred with tears, realising the significance of the moment.
i lay next to him, his body curled around me. such a loving embrace in theory, but so empty in reality. that was the moment i let him go.
love had nothing to do with it. i didn't fall out of love in that instant. it took a while, i think we were still in love for weeks if not months after then. but i realised something. i can't put it into words. it was the reason i stopped running after him though. no more 5 hour phone calls and £200 phone bills and sleepless nights and football matches and playstation games and page 3 girls on the walls and cruel, vast, englufing emptiness.
he was asleep, his head against mine. i used dream about lying there with him like that. i slipped out of his embrace, go out of bed. he didn't stir. i put my clothes back on. it was dark outside. i left him and walked to the rusty green seat that looks over all of my town. i sat and watched the stars and the moon. there was no shooting star that night.
from then onwards i don't think i've ever made myself vulnerable like i did with jordan. i look at my relationship with anthony and wonder i can't give him what i gave to jordan. i gave him everything. anthony gave me everything a long time ago and yet i still can't manage to give him what he wants, what he deserves.
i'm so scared of committing to something. committing to anything. i can't take the pain of being let down. i give that pain to everyone i love now.
i had a dream last night. it was so real though. so so real.
i was standing at a platform, and he was on the other side. we made eye contact. i knew who he was. he stared harder at me. our eyes didn't move. you don't remember me, do you? he said.
i was numb.
no, i said. he smiled. his eyes. green eyes. still, after almost four years they were filled with the same hate and intent to hurt.
you haven't changed.
neither have you.
i think about it all the time, you know.
why?
it makes me feel powerful. i just looked at him, still smiling. i felt a tear roll over my cheek, so warm against my frozen skin.
i feel powerful now.
don't.
you know that just encourages me.
i hate you.
a train flew past us then and i woke up, shocked, surprised that i wasn't still standing at the platform.
i fucking hate him.
lets see. tuesday night i went to adam's house. the guilt's starting to get worse and worse now. every time we met things seem to get a little more out of hand, not in physical terms but in the way we look at each other, speak to each other... think of each other.
when i get out of his car after a night of being with him i forget about him until he texts me a couple of says later. i would never have done that a year or so ago. i've noticed this quite a lot lately. in the past i tended to suffocate people as though if i didn't hold onto them they'd disappear.
i did this to jordan. i held onto him, held him down, forced him to hang onto whatever it was that remained of our relationship. i knew he wanted to let go. i wouldn't let him though. and in the end he let me down. he forced me to let him go, and he left me alone. i even remember when it happened.
i had been crying while we were making love. he didn't ask why, he didn't want to know why. he already knew. but still, he said nothing. he knew i was in so much pain, hurting so much inside, and he didn't want to know. it had everything to do with him, and he pretended everything was fine, everything was normal.
i remember looking up at him, vision blurred with tears, realising the significance of the moment.
i lay next to him, his body curled around me. such a loving embrace in theory, but so empty in reality. that was the moment i let him go.
love had nothing to do with it. i didn't fall out of love in that instant. it took a while, i think we were still in love for weeks if not months after then. but i realised something. i can't put it into words. it was the reason i stopped running after him though. no more 5 hour phone calls and £200 phone bills and sleepless nights and football matches and playstation games and page 3 girls on the walls and cruel, vast, englufing emptiness.
he was asleep, his head against mine. i used dream about lying there with him like that. i slipped out of his embrace, go out of bed. he didn't stir. i put my clothes back on. it was dark outside. i left him and walked to the rusty green seat that looks over all of my town. i sat and watched the stars and the moon. there was no shooting star that night.
from then onwards i don't think i've ever made myself vulnerable like i did with jordan. i look at my relationship with anthony and wonder i can't give him what i gave to jordan. i gave him everything. anthony gave me everything a long time ago and yet i still can't manage to give him what he wants, what he deserves.
i'm so scared of committing to something. committing to anything. i can't take the pain of being let down. i give that pain to everyone i love now.
i had a dream last night. it was so real though. so so real.
i was standing at a platform, and he was on the other side. we made eye contact. i knew who he was. he stared harder at me. our eyes didn't move. you don't remember me, do you? he said.
i was numb.
no, i said. he smiled. his eyes. green eyes. still, after almost four years they were filled with the same hate and intent to hurt.
you haven't changed.
neither have you.
i think about it all the time, you know.
why?
it makes me feel powerful. i just looked at him, still smiling. i felt a tear roll over my cheek, so warm against my frozen skin.
i feel powerful now.
don't.
you know that just encourages me.
i hate you.
a train flew past us then and i woke up, shocked, surprised that i wasn't still standing at the platform.
i fucking hate him.
Tuesday 16 November 2004
mr scientist man
it's been a while again since i wrote.
more has happened this time.
anthony left last wednesday and he's home tomorrow night.
there was a house party on friday night. lots of drink, lots of boys, lots of loudness and music and cigarettes and joints and... just a really good time. it took a while, but i felt like i could relax and have fun and not worry. i ignored anthony all night though, afterall, that's what i seem to have to do if i want to have a good time. pretend anthony doesn't exist.
there was a pretty boy at the party too - whatever the hell his name was. at one point i woke up to find myself wrapped up in a sheepskin rug with some lad with the nickname 'blackie'. he was nice though - he works with children with disabilities.
saturday i slept, sunday i shopped - with noah. we drank our macchiatos and mochas like students and walked around with no weights on our shoulders. i love going to newcastle with noah.
then there's yesterday - last night to be exact. another date with adam, the first in almost two weeks. we went to the old man's pub again and talked. i can’t put my finger on it but there’s something there with me and him. something grown up and proper. it scares me a little bit but then it goes away and i wonder what i’m doing there with him.
i ignored anthony all night long too. he wasn't happy. not happy at all.
i wish i could open my mouth and tell him i'm cheating on him - i'd love to do that just to shut him up and make him fuck off. i know i won't though.
i'm too scared he means what he said "i'll end up doing time if you ever go behind my back"
what can i say?
oops.
more has happened this time.
anthony left last wednesday and he's home tomorrow night.
there was a house party on friday night. lots of drink, lots of boys, lots of loudness and music and cigarettes and joints and... just a really good time. it took a while, but i felt like i could relax and have fun and not worry. i ignored anthony all night though, afterall, that's what i seem to have to do if i want to have a good time. pretend anthony doesn't exist.
there was a pretty boy at the party too - whatever the hell his name was. at one point i woke up to find myself wrapped up in a sheepskin rug with some lad with the nickname 'blackie'. he was nice though - he works with children with disabilities.
saturday i slept, sunday i shopped - with noah. we drank our macchiatos and mochas like students and walked around with no weights on our shoulders. i love going to newcastle with noah.
then there's yesterday - last night to be exact. another date with adam, the first in almost two weeks. we went to the old man's pub again and talked. i can’t put my finger on it but there’s something there with me and him. something grown up and proper. it scares me a little bit but then it goes away and i wonder what i’m doing there with him.
i ignored anthony all night long too. he wasn't happy. not happy at all.
i wish i could open my mouth and tell him i'm cheating on him - i'd love to do that just to shut him up and make him fuck off. i know i won't though.
i'm too scared he means what he said "i'll end up doing time if you ever go behind my back"
what can i say?
oops.
Tuesday 9 November 2004
a fringe covers everything
it's been an unusual past few days.
since thursday anthony's been apologetic and sweet, and pissed half the time too. on friday night i went for a meal with some girlfriends and anthony was going out with his friends for a lads night out.
i happened to go out after my meal, in the same area anthony was meant to. i didn't look for him though. instead, i stayed with joy and yvonne and eventually met up with beau.
i'm not sure, maybe it's becasue i'd only drank two bottles, but when i saw him i just thought to myself, 'why do i lower myself to that?'
i was standing in the corner by the cigarette machine, and he was by the bar. i saw him walk in, i always notice him first. i stood and watched him for a minute or two before he looked around and his eyes drifted over me. he caught sight of me and turned back to the bar. and then he turned around quickly and looked at me again. he walked towards me, bringing his drink with him.
he touched my new hair and said he barely recognised me. he was wearing the same old jeans with the same old shirt and the same old shoes. he stood out a mile to me.
he asked what happened with me and anthony, said he'd talked to my sister yesterday and heard the news. i told him it was barely news: we'd broken up; it wasn't the end of the world, i lied.
he looked at me the way he does when he's had a drink and it's coming up to closing time. he said i'd changed since the last time he'd seen me. new hair, new me i said. he told me it was more than that. maybe... i mumbled.
i'm so sick of having hidden-meaning conversations with beau. why the fuck can't we just come out and say what we're really thinking for once?
maybe the half a pill i'd taken earlier was kicking in, but for some reason i felt comfortable in my little corner by the cigarette machine, and beau was ruining it. i said i'd better get back to my friends, and he said similar. we looked at each other again and he told me that i'd never been as beautiful as i was at that moment.
i smiled and said his friends were waiting, and turned away from him. i didn't dare turn around again, but i felt him kiss my cheek from behind me.
i missed anthony.
i missed him so so much.
since thursday anthony's been apologetic and sweet, and pissed half the time too. on friday night i went for a meal with some girlfriends and anthony was going out with his friends for a lads night out.
i happened to go out after my meal, in the same area anthony was meant to. i didn't look for him though. instead, i stayed with joy and yvonne and eventually met up with beau.
i'm not sure, maybe it's becasue i'd only drank two bottles, but when i saw him i just thought to myself, 'why do i lower myself to that?'
i was standing in the corner by the cigarette machine, and he was by the bar. i saw him walk in, i always notice him first. i stood and watched him for a minute or two before he looked around and his eyes drifted over me. he caught sight of me and turned back to the bar. and then he turned around quickly and looked at me again. he walked towards me, bringing his drink with him.
he touched my new hair and said he barely recognised me. he was wearing the same old jeans with the same old shirt and the same old shoes. he stood out a mile to me.
he asked what happened with me and anthony, said he'd talked to my sister yesterday and heard the news. i told him it was barely news: we'd broken up; it wasn't the end of the world, i lied.
he looked at me the way he does when he's had a drink and it's coming up to closing time. he said i'd changed since the last time he'd seen me. new hair, new me i said. he told me it was more than that. maybe... i mumbled.
i'm so sick of having hidden-meaning conversations with beau. why the fuck can't we just come out and say what we're really thinking for once?
maybe the half a pill i'd taken earlier was kicking in, but for some reason i felt comfortable in my little corner by the cigarette machine, and beau was ruining it. i said i'd better get back to my friends, and he said similar. we looked at each other again and he told me that i'd never been as beautiful as i was at that moment.
i smiled and said his friends were waiting, and turned away from him. i didn't dare turn around again, but i felt him kiss my cheek from behind me.
i missed anthony.
i missed him so so much.
Thursday 4 November 2004
i used to hate how much of a LAD he is
i feel so numb today. as though i'm made of ice, like an ice statue. only i have so many imperfections; so many chips and faults.
i know that anthony means what he says. he won't go back on what he's said this time. it's over. and there's no way of changing his mind.
but if only there was a way to.
how awful it will be when i'm packing his stuff up tonight - how long it will take. he's lived with me since january. what about his room? his old socks won't be lying around all over the place. no junk in his bedside drawers. no cans of beer in the fridge. his car will never again be parked on the drive. i'll never run down the street to meet him again.
god i'm so confused. i always thought that he was never the one for me. just for stupid reasons though, like his breath and the way he tasted when he kissed me. the way he would never lie with me after we made love, always needing to go somewhere or do something. the way i've picked up on his bad habits; the smoking, the drinking, the swearing. i used to hate how much of LAD he is.
and then there's all the things he did that made me melt, like how he would hold onto me like we were the only two people left on earth, so tight. the way he made all the pain go away for the couple of days he was home every weekend. the way that being with him made all my problems go away. the way he'd kiss my tears away if i cried. the way always knew exactly what to do to me.
i took him for granted.
he's my anthony though, how can it possibly be finished? it just can't be.
it can't.
i know that anthony means what he says. he won't go back on what he's said this time. it's over. and there's no way of changing his mind.
but if only there was a way to.
how awful it will be when i'm packing his stuff up tonight - how long it will take. he's lived with me since january. what about his room? his old socks won't be lying around all over the place. no junk in his bedside drawers. no cans of beer in the fridge. his car will never again be parked on the drive. i'll never run down the street to meet him again.
god i'm so confused. i always thought that he was never the one for me. just for stupid reasons though, like his breath and the way he tasted when he kissed me. the way he would never lie with me after we made love, always needing to go somewhere or do something. the way i've picked up on his bad habits; the smoking, the drinking, the swearing. i used to hate how much of LAD he is.
and then there's all the things he did that made me melt, like how he would hold onto me like we were the only two people left on earth, so tight. the way he made all the pain go away for the couple of days he was home every weekend. the way that being with him made all my problems go away. the way he'd kiss my tears away if i cried. the way always knew exactly what to do to me.
i took him for granted.
he's my anthony though, how can it possibly be finished? it just can't be.
it can't.
lucky man
god i've made such a huge mistake. i could feel him slipping away, all this time i've known how i hurt him so, and i didn't care.
he's always been there for me, and i've always pushed him and pushed him further and further away, trying to test just how much he can take.
he's right. i don't care about anyone but myself.
look what i do to the people i love; look what i did to the one person who actually means something to me.
i'm so cruel. so fake. so fucking selfish.
he's always been there for me, and i've always pushed him and pushed him further and further away, trying to test just how much he can take.
he's right. i don't care about anyone but myself.
look what i do to the people i love; look what i did to the one person who actually means something to me.
i'm so cruel. so fake. so fucking selfish.
Sunday 31 October 2004
romeo and juliet
date number four went very very well. so well that date number five has been moved forward to tonight. drinks and 'a cup of coffee back at his house afterwards'.
i felt like i was being truly wined and dined last night. dinner at coco mo's then drinks at bar 55 and apartment.
when we walked up to apartment the bouncer stopped us and i thought shit, it's cos he knows i'm underage. but instead he rolled out a red carpet and said a pretty girl like me had to walk in in style.
my smile beamed i was so flattered.
we talked about so many things, so many real things that haven't even come up in conversation with me and anthony. i felt so relaxed and as though my every word was considered and appreciated.
he's picking me up in half an hour.
must go and get ready.
i felt like i was being truly wined and dined last night. dinner at coco mo's then drinks at bar 55 and apartment.
when we walked up to apartment the bouncer stopped us and i thought shit, it's cos he knows i'm underage. but instead he rolled out a red carpet and said a pretty girl like me had to walk in in style.
my smile beamed i was so flattered.
we talked about so many things, so many real things that haven't even come up in conversation with me and anthony. i felt so relaxed and as though my every word was considered and appreciated.
he's picking me up in half an hour.
must go and get ready.
Thursday 28 October 2004
all the tired horses
date number three last night. and it went well, better than the last two. perhpas the alcohol played a factor again though.
we talked a lot more this time, and i learnt about his life, his past and where he wants to go and what he wants to do. he asked me those questions too, but all i could give him were confusing, vague, incomplete answers.
he said i was frustrating. i knew what he meant.
we walked home together in the rain, hand to ourselves. when we said goodbye, he went to kiss me again. this time i didn't stop him, i just watched his face come closer to mine and i felt his lips move against mine. i made no movement whatsoever though.
that's the first time a kiss has made me blush, and I’m sure that even in the rain he could see my cheeks were glowing. he said he understood; he could see that i was one of those good girls who were hard to come across. i laughed hard on the inside, for his choice of words and the irony of it. if only he knew what sort of 'good girl' i am.
i just smiled and looked at the floor. he said he'd like to get to know me better before things started going too fast for me. i wasn't quite sure what he meant. but i just nodded.
date number four will be dinner on saturday evening, which work's out well because anthony's home for tonight and tomorrow morning, but then he's on guard duty from tomorrow night until next friday.
perhaps that will give us time to 'get to now each other better'.
i hope so.
we talked a lot more this time, and i learnt about his life, his past and where he wants to go and what he wants to do. he asked me those questions too, but all i could give him were confusing, vague, incomplete answers.
he said i was frustrating. i knew what he meant.
we walked home together in the rain, hand to ourselves. when we said goodbye, he went to kiss me again. this time i didn't stop him, i just watched his face come closer to mine and i felt his lips move against mine. i made no movement whatsoever though.
that's the first time a kiss has made me blush, and I’m sure that even in the rain he could see my cheeks were glowing. he said he understood; he could see that i was one of those good girls who were hard to come across. i laughed hard on the inside, for his choice of words and the irony of it. if only he knew what sort of 'good girl' i am.
i just smiled and looked at the floor. he said he'd like to get to know me better before things started going too fast for me. i wasn't quite sure what he meant. but i just nodded.
date number four will be dinner on saturday evening, which work's out well because anthony's home for tonight and tomorrow morning, but then he's on guard duty from tomorrow night until next friday.
perhaps that will give us time to 'get to now each other better'.
i hope so.
Monday 25 October 2004
california dreamin
another date tonight. lucky me.
it went well, or, as well as a date can go when two people are just watching a screen for two hours. but there was some brief conversation in his car on the way home.
thursday went a lot better. fancy cocktail bars and cosy, romantic little corners. the live act at the vineyard sounded just like eddie vedder. i loved it. i tried a cosmopolitan for the first timei. perhpaps those cocktails are the reason it went so well though.
oh, and anthony. how i ignored him all night long. a "girls' night out" i told him. what's another lie added to the heap, though? and then there's tonight: "a chance for noah, isobel, william and i to catch up on things".
yeah right.
no recent word from jordan, but beau's name has been appearing on my phone screen. i think that's only so he doesn't lose his secure shag though.
and can i really revile him?
i figured out that my " "relationship" " (notice the double inverted commas) with him has lasted longer than any other relationship has with any other boy.
things with anthony are rocky at the moment. we are together, but only by accident, i think. sometimes i wonder how i'd feel if i were in his shoes, and he'd been cheating on me with various boys since the day our relationship started, literally.
i can't keep relying on his ignorance, though. i'll make a little mistake one day and he'll figure it out. it's inevitable.
i think, maybe, i want him to though. then i wouldn't have to keep playing along: painted smile; searing pain; unbearbable guilt. it'll be a cold, hard shock when it does happen though.
adam wants to go for a drive in the country on saturday. anthony comes home on friday. i said yes anyway. what's another broken promise added to the heap, afterall?
boys, boys, boys.
and yet not one makes me want to play golf in the rain.
it went well, or, as well as a date can go when two people are just watching a screen for two hours. but there was some brief conversation in his car on the way home.
thursday went a lot better. fancy cocktail bars and cosy, romantic little corners. the live act at the vineyard sounded just like eddie vedder. i loved it. i tried a cosmopolitan for the first timei. perhpaps those cocktails are the reason it went so well though.
oh, and anthony. how i ignored him all night long. a "girls' night out" i told him. what's another lie added to the heap, though? and then there's tonight: "a chance for noah, isobel, william and i to catch up on things".
yeah right.
no recent word from jordan, but beau's name has been appearing on my phone screen. i think that's only so he doesn't lose his secure shag though.
and can i really revile him?
i figured out that my " "relationship" " (notice the double inverted commas) with him has lasted longer than any other relationship has with any other boy.
things with anthony are rocky at the moment. we are together, but only by accident, i think. sometimes i wonder how i'd feel if i were in his shoes, and he'd been cheating on me with various boys since the day our relationship started, literally.
i can't keep relying on his ignorance, though. i'll make a little mistake one day and he'll figure it out. it's inevitable.
i think, maybe, i want him to though. then i wouldn't have to keep playing along: painted smile; searing pain; unbearbable guilt. it'll be a cold, hard shock when it does happen though.
adam wants to go for a drive in the country on saturday. anthony comes home on friday. i said yes anyway. what's another broken promise added to the heap, afterall?
boys, boys, boys.
and yet not one makes me want to play golf in the rain.
Thursday 21 October 2004
space between
i'm in my free now. i haven't written for a while, and the last time i wrote i thought i'd never be writing again.
perhaps i'm manic depressive, afterall, there's so many times when i feel as though i'd rather die than talk to another human being or breathe in another breath of this dead air circulating around me.
and then there's all the times when i feel like the world is a big bean bag that i'm sitting on top of: everything in control, everything to my liking, no painful reminders of late coursework or forgotten phone calls or people i have disappointed.
i fluctuate between the two, sometimes multiple times in a day, sometimes once a month.
half term begins today. i need it so badly too.
got a date tonight - adam - a 'research chemist for international paints'.
i know the butterflies aren't for the nerves - they're for the guilt.
perhaps i'm manic depressive, afterall, there's so many times when i feel as though i'd rather die than talk to another human being or breathe in another breath of this dead air circulating around me.
and then there's all the times when i feel like the world is a big bean bag that i'm sitting on top of: everything in control, everything to my liking, no painful reminders of late coursework or forgotten phone calls or people i have disappointed.
i fluctuate between the two, sometimes multiple times in a day, sometimes once a month.
half term begins today. i need it so badly too.
got a date tonight - adam - a 'research chemist for international paints'.
i know the butterflies aren't for the nerves - they're for the guilt.
Tuesday 12 October 2004
amsterdam
sweet sixteen - nine hours.
what a joke.
i'm so sad. so unbelievably sad. everything is so wrong today. maybe anthony will be there when i get home - maybe he won't. maybe the school have rang my dad - maybe they haven't. maybe i'll kill myself tonight - who knows?
i'm so sick of life now. i feel like there's just no point in anything i do. it's never right; never the way it should be; never done properly.
i'm just giving myself away, piece by piece by piece: pieces of me lying about all over the place. like a candle that's been alight for years, melting from the inside out.
i'm just a puddle on the floor.
what a joke.
i'm so sad. so unbelievably sad. everything is so wrong today. maybe anthony will be there when i get home - maybe he won't. maybe the school have rang my dad - maybe they haven't. maybe i'll kill myself tonight - who knows?
i'm so sick of life now. i feel like there's just no point in anything i do. it's never right; never the way it should be; never done properly.
i'm just giving myself away, piece by piece by piece: pieces of me lying about all over the place. like a candle that's been alight for years, melting from the inside out.
i'm just a puddle on the floor.
Tuesday 5 October 2004
shoe (singular)
I know it's been ages since i wrote - apologies - but quite a lot has happend.
got inebriated on friday night. me and anthony went out together but ended up separating somehow. he gave me his bank card, i took out £80, i found 'beau', we went to the ranch, then it gets a bit blurry, but then i walked to 'beau's' with him, stood in a flower pot on the way, got stuck, lost my shoe, got to 'beau's', fucked, walked home, had a fight with anthony.
while we were lying in bed together at his house, he told me i was nolonger that sweet innocent girl he used to love so much. i said that was because we keep insisting on fucking each other. how can i seem innocent if he fucks me every couple of months. he got angry, he told me to sort my life out, told me i wasn't even sixteen yet and looked as though i'd been dragged though thirty years of cold, hard, life. i just laughed and told him to take a look at himself.
i said that the only thing that was stopping us from being together was his pointless love for monique. he got angrier. i said she'd probably fucked someone else by now, since she did that to him last time.
he punched his wall and threw his glass of water at the mirror.
i got dressed, i left, i walked home, shoe (singular) in hand.
got inebriated on friday night. me and anthony went out together but ended up separating somehow. he gave me his bank card, i took out £80, i found 'beau', we went to the ranch, then it gets a bit blurry, but then i walked to 'beau's' with him, stood in a flower pot on the way, got stuck, lost my shoe, got to 'beau's', fucked, walked home, had a fight with anthony.
while we were lying in bed together at his house, he told me i was nolonger that sweet innocent girl he used to love so much. i said that was because we keep insisting on fucking each other. how can i seem innocent if he fucks me every couple of months. he got angry, he told me to sort my life out, told me i wasn't even sixteen yet and looked as though i'd been dragged though thirty years of cold, hard, life. i just laughed and told him to take a look at himself.
i said that the only thing that was stopping us from being together was his pointless love for monique. he got angrier. i said she'd probably fucked someone else by now, since she did that to him last time.
he punched his wall and threw his glass of water at the mirror.
i got dressed, i left, i walked home, shoe (singular) in hand.
Tuesday 28 September 2004
walk on
i'm in my free again - first thing in the morning. i've started skipping assembly with some other girls in my class and i've realised that it makes the day go by a little faster and a little easier. i hope the day goes by fast today.
anthony left late last night - again. how many times am i going to hear myself say that? quite a few, i bet.
i didn't break down into hysterics like i did last time, but i was still sad - very sad. he's home on friday though, so i suppose it's not that bad. still - four days.
i spoke to 'beau' again. he rang me on sunday while i was with anthony and some friends, and i had to just talk down the phone as though i was speaking to my friend daniel. he knows the code for ringing me. he rings once, then if i can talk to him i ring him once, and then he rings me back. i was fuming with him. but anthony didn't seem to notice.
i rang him later to let him know how angry i was. he said he was sorry - he said he was thinking about me so he rang me like i told him - i asked him what he was thinking - he was wondering why i came round on thursday.
i told him i had a lapse in morals, but that they were back to their regular standards now - he said he was offended, he didn't realise that to see him i had to undergo a slip in my principles - i laughed - i asked him if that wasn't really what he had to do too. and he said nothing. he's good at saying nothing when it really matters.
after a while he told me not to kid myself - we'll always come back to each other somehow, in some strange way, whether we liked it or not.
i told him it would have to stop - he said it would - when he leaves for florida. i started to cry. he's leaving next year, when he gets his irish passport, to be with monique.
there's something i've never really understood about 'beau' and i. since we started being 'intimate' last july we've never really been happy in our relationships. last summer he was on the verge of a break up with monique, as was i with jordan, only i never really knew that at the time. we both wanted to be with each other then but neither of us could hurt the other party.
when he was single in october, and when i was just days away from being similarly so, we comforted each other with our lust for one another. thinking back, i can't think of a better method of comfort than that. i wanted him then, when all he wanted was to rebuild his relationship with monique.
and then in february when monique was long gone from 'beau's' life, and i was still hovering between relatioships, we had a chance to make something. he wanted to, he made several efforts to win me over - but 'hannah's boyfriend' was such a tough category to win back then. so many contenders, and 'beau' didn't make the cut.
and then there's this summer. monique has gone to florida now but 'beau' is pining for her, while i feel i'm dying inside with my relatioship with anthony. i was ready to give everything up and be with him, but he couldn't - monique was still on his mind.
so much sea-sawing, so many changed minds and unsettled claims. the timing is never right.
what i meant to say before all this drivel came out, was that i've never understood why we've never just opted for the easy way out: dropping monique, jordan, anthony, whoever, and simply starting a relationship with each other, finally.
but i suppose things are never really that simple.
anthony left late last night - again. how many times am i going to hear myself say that? quite a few, i bet.
i didn't break down into hysterics like i did last time, but i was still sad - very sad. he's home on friday though, so i suppose it's not that bad. still - four days.
i spoke to 'beau' again. he rang me on sunday while i was with anthony and some friends, and i had to just talk down the phone as though i was speaking to my friend daniel. he knows the code for ringing me. he rings once, then if i can talk to him i ring him once, and then he rings me back. i was fuming with him. but anthony didn't seem to notice.
i rang him later to let him know how angry i was. he said he was sorry - he said he was thinking about me so he rang me like i told him - i asked him what he was thinking - he was wondering why i came round on thursday.
i told him i had a lapse in morals, but that they were back to their regular standards now - he said he was offended, he didn't realise that to see him i had to undergo a slip in my principles - i laughed - i asked him if that wasn't really what he had to do too. and he said nothing. he's good at saying nothing when it really matters.
after a while he told me not to kid myself - we'll always come back to each other somehow, in some strange way, whether we liked it or not.
i told him it would have to stop - he said it would - when he leaves for florida. i started to cry. he's leaving next year, when he gets his irish passport, to be with monique.
there's something i've never really understood about 'beau' and i. since we started being 'intimate' last july we've never really been happy in our relationships. last summer he was on the verge of a break up with monique, as was i with jordan, only i never really knew that at the time. we both wanted to be with each other then but neither of us could hurt the other party.
when he was single in october, and when i was just days away from being similarly so, we comforted each other with our lust for one another. thinking back, i can't think of a better method of comfort than that. i wanted him then, when all he wanted was to rebuild his relationship with monique.
and then in february when monique was long gone from 'beau's' life, and i was still hovering between relatioships, we had a chance to make something. he wanted to, he made several efforts to win me over - but 'hannah's boyfriend' was such a tough category to win back then. so many contenders, and 'beau' didn't make the cut.
and then there's this summer. monique has gone to florida now but 'beau' is pining for her, while i feel i'm dying inside with my relatioship with anthony. i was ready to give everything up and be with him, but he couldn't - monique was still on his mind.
so much sea-sawing, so many changed minds and unsettled claims. the timing is never right.
what i meant to say before all this drivel came out, was that i've never understood why we've never just opted for the easy way out: dropping monique, jordan, anthony, whoever, and simply starting a relationship with each other, finally.
but i suppose things are never really that simple.
Friday 24 September 2004
with or without you
Anthony’s picking me up this afternoon, in about an hour or so. I think it’ll be weird speaking to him again – I feel as though he’s a different person now that I’ve found out that thing. I wish I knew why he did it. I could never ask him though. No matter how comfortable we are with each other, that would just be the most awkward thing ever. I texted ‘Beau’ last night, hinting for an invitation for me to come back to his place. I was only there for a minute or two though. I stood outside his door and he asked me to come inside – I looked at what was draped around his neck – those fucking golden boxing gloves. I just thought to myself – you fool. I mean for fucks sake, just that very same day I had been writing about how I hated being his sure thing. So, hours after saying that I go round there with the full intention of walking in and taking my clothes off for him again.I was ready – I had my white silk thong on, my white silk matching bra, shaved legs – everything was ready for him. And then I saw that fucking necklace and remembered how horrible it would feel a few days after the deed – the crime – the guilty venture. The awful words floating around my mind for weeks after – such a contemptible, shameful girl.He asked me to come in – I said no – he asked me why – I asked him what we were – he didn’t understand – I asked him if we were friends – and he said we were more than that – I asked him if we were a secret couple – and he said no – I asked him if I was his fuck buddy – he said nothing. I told him the only reason I kept coming back was because he made me feel special – he said it was the same for him – I called him a liar – he looked at me – I told him to ring me the next time he though about me – he said he’d be ringing me every minute – I laughed.I told him to be honest – his expression changed – we said goodnight – I walked away.I laughed and cried the whole way home.
Thursday 23 September 2004
mister christopher 2
i'm really seriously impressed with myself and how much work i've produced this week.
i'm going to make sure i don't fall behind in any more subjects so that i can have time to catch up on others - god knows when that'll be though.
i'm in my free now - and yes i'm going to do some work for once. after i've finished writing on here and downloading music of course.
anthony drove me to school this morning and he's picking me up at 3:00 so i don't have to go to English this afternoon. YEY!
his week off has flown by - he's at court on monday for his drink driving thing and then he's leaving. but he'll probably be home again next friday.
i hate it when he's not here for me cuddle and hold on to and make me feel safe. i just feel empty.
i used to think i felt so empty becasue of him - but i think i was wrong. now i think that maybe he's the only reason i'm not just a hollow shell that could crack any second.
i do love him.
i wish i could tell him about 'Beau'. i feel so guilty about it now - it's tearing my insides out every time i think back to those mistakes. they really were mistakes - big ones. i bet i'd do again though if the clocks turned back to that pivotal moment when he started crying in his bathroom.
what if i hadn't went back there with him? what if i hadn't cleaned the blood off his face? what if i hadn't held his head against my shoulder when he started to cry? and what if i hadn't been so fucking gullible.
what eighteen year old man starts to cry over a black eye? not a fucking amateur boxer with golden boxing gloves hanging round his neck - who was in more fights when we were younger than i could count on both hands.
hands all over each other before we realised what we were doing. we knew exactly what it would feel like - exactly how it would be in a few weeks; a few days even. that heavy tonne weight of guilt in the pits of our stomachs.
it happened anyway. tears, lies, lust, pain and pure desperation all mixed together. all that emotion and yet he was playing naked guitar for me moments later.
it was all just a cleverly planned setup to get me into his bed again.
ironically, jordan was the first person i really talked to about it. jordan, whose heart i broke just a year ago through the exact same act, with the very same person.
he told i was just one of those people who couldn't resist temptation. i tried to justify myself to him, tried to explain to him that i was tricked, but he told me that didn't matter. i still gave in.
so maybe i'm not as strong as other people. jordan's wrong though. i don't know why but i just know he's wrong. it's 'Beau'. he's the only person i have affairs with.
it's just so complicated. we've got so much history, but where did that all come from? what history is that exactly?
since i was nine i used to dream about marrying him when i was older. somehow i think we'll end up together somehow, someway. why else do we keep coming back to each other for more. but the timing's always wrong. maybe it won't be wrong forever though.
how do we know so much about each other? how can we tell exactly how the other is feeling all the time? how do we do that?
i wish, i really wish i knew. i don't want to be read like a book by him anymore. i want to become a mystery to him. i don't want to be his sure thing anymore, and i don't want him to offer himself to me as though he's my sure thing.
i hope that maybe one day we'll be able to see each other across a crowded room and think... good times.
not for a long time yet though.
i'm going to make sure i don't fall behind in any more subjects so that i can have time to catch up on others - god knows when that'll be though.
i'm in my free now - and yes i'm going to do some work for once. after i've finished writing on here and downloading music of course.
anthony drove me to school this morning and he's picking me up at 3:00 so i don't have to go to English this afternoon. YEY!
his week off has flown by - he's at court on monday for his drink driving thing and then he's leaving. but he'll probably be home again next friday.
i hate it when he's not here for me cuddle and hold on to and make me feel safe. i just feel empty.
i used to think i felt so empty becasue of him - but i think i was wrong. now i think that maybe he's the only reason i'm not just a hollow shell that could crack any second.
i do love him.
i wish i could tell him about 'Beau'. i feel so guilty about it now - it's tearing my insides out every time i think back to those mistakes. they really were mistakes - big ones. i bet i'd do again though if the clocks turned back to that pivotal moment when he started crying in his bathroom.
what if i hadn't went back there with him? what if i hadn't cleaned the blood off his face? what if i hadn't held his head against my shoulder when he started to cry? and what if i hadn't been so fucking gullible.
what eighteen year old man starts to cry over a black eye? not a fucking amateur boxer with golden boxing gloves hanging round his neck - who was in more fights when we were younger than i could count on both hands.
hands all over each other before we realised what we were doing. we knew exactly what it would feel like - exactly how it would be in a few weeks; a few days even. that heavy tonne weight of guilt in the pits of our stomachs.
it happened anyway. tears, lies, lust, pain and pure desperation all mixed together. all that emotion and yet he was playing naked guitar for me moments later.
it was all just a cleverly planned setup to get me into his bed again.
ironically, jordan was the first person i really talked to about it. jordan, whose heart i broke just a year ago through the exact same act, with the very same person.
he told i was just one of those people who couldn't resist temptation. i tried to justify myself to him, tried to explain to him that i was tricked, but he told me that didn't matter. i still gave in.
so maybe i'm not as strong as other people. jordan's wrong though. i don't know why but i just know he's wrong. it's 'Beau'. he's the only person i have affairs with.
it's just so complicated. we've got so much history, but where did that all come from? what history is that exactly?
since i was nine i used to dream about marrying him when i was older. somehow i think we'll end up together somehow, someway. why else do we keep coming back to each other for more. but the timing's always wrong. maybe it won't be wrong forever though.
how do we know so much about each other? how can we tell exactly how the other is feeling all the time? how do we do that?
i wish, i really wish i knew. i don't want to be read like a book by him anymore. i want to become a mystery to him. i don't want to be his sure thing anymore, and i don't want him to offer himself to me as though he's my sure thing.
i hope that maybe one day we'll be able to see each other across a crowded room and think... good times.
not for a long time yet though.
Tuesday 21 September 2004
the couch
i'm in my free again, while anthony's probably still lying in my bed. i suppose today can't be too bad - i've only got english and history and then triple golf this afternoon. he's picking me up again too, which i like.
i'm starting to get my head above water with work now, but it's still hard. it feels as though everyone around me is sucking the life out of me like leeches with huge appetites. and now that i'm finally giving them something they want more and more and more.
(sigh)
hopefully the day will pass quickly and i'll get home in no time - to sit down and do about 3 hours of geogrpahy coursework.
i had a dream that i travelled to a place where all the people were made out of icing last night.
i'm starting to get my head above water with work now, but it's still hard. it feels as though everyone around me is sucking the life out of me like leeches with huge appetites. and now that i'm finally giving them something they want more and more and more.
(sigh)
hopefully the day will pass quickly and i'll get home in no time - to sit down and do about 3 hours of geogrpahy coursework.
i had a dream that i travelled to a place where all the people were made out of icing last night.
Monday 20 September 2004
ready to wear
It’s just lunch now, had german, biology, chemistry and maths this morning, and I’ve got French and geography coursework to hand in this afternoon – that I’ve finished though.
I had a look at my friend’s diary this morning, and it made me kind of sad. He’d posted all the pictures of their visit to Lancaster uni, and it made me think about things. I don’t think i’ll ever have fun like that with them again.
The thing that kept our friendship so alive was the fact that we had nothing to be scared or afraid or shy of. Together, we could say, think, act like we wanted without giving a damn if anybody cared. Well, that’s what it felt like for me.
They’re the only real friends I think I’ve ever had. Maybe that’s why it feels so bad that we hardly ever speak or see each other. And I would pick up the phone this second if I could think of a single thing I could think of to say. I’ve been left out of the loop for such a long time.
I hope they’re all still in there, I suppose. Actually that’s a total lie. Why, if they can still have fun together, can’t I be included in any of it?
This all probably sounds immature, but I can’t help but miss the friendships I had with them all and be sad by the fact that I know they’ll never be same again.
(sigh), off to some French homework.
I had a look at my friend’s diary this morning, and it made me kind of sad. He’d posted all the pictures of their visit to Lancaster uni, and it made me think about things. I don’t think i’ll ever have fun like that with them again.
The thing that kept our friendship so alive was the fact that we had nothing to be scared or afraid or shy of. Together, we could say, think, act like we wanted without giving a damn if anybody cared. Well, that’s what it felt like for me.
They’re the only real friends I think I’ve ever had. Maybe that’s why it feels so bad that we hardly ever speak or see each other. And I would pick up the phone this second if I could think of a single thing I could think of to say. I’ve been left out of the loop for such a long time.
I hope they’re all still in there, I suppose. Actually that’s a total lie. Why, if they can still have fun together, can’t I be included in any of it?
This all probably sounds immature, but I can’t help but miss the friendships I had with them all and be sad by the fact that I know they’ll never be same again.
(sigh), off to some French homework.
Friday 17 September 2004
a big, red, bubbling scab
I'm in history and since i've got nothing better to do really, i thought i'd come on here, again.
i've wanted to write an entry about my relationship with my mother for a while, and keep forgetting somehow or i keep getting something else to inspire an entry.
pretty much ever since i started seeing jordan i've been distanced from my mother, as though we both feel i'm too grown up to climb into her bed every morning for a cuddle, or to sit beside her on the green recliner while she reads a book and plays with my hair.
and i never talk to her about my problems anymore, as though by telling her the details of my life i'd be setting myself up for a mass interrogation. and i can't really tell her anything anyway, without having to tell a dozen lies to come out with one line of truth.
but i wish i didn't have to hide things from her. i wish i could tell her the problems me and anthony have and the reasons we argue. i wish i could be honest with her and tell her how much i hate this school and how much i've hated it for the past year - and how i'm failing at it - for the first time in my life.
i wish i could just try and begin to describe this feeling i get of emptiness, and the razor-sharp knife edge i feel running across every pore on my body, tinged with acid, burning my skin until i'm nothing more than a red, bubbling scab.
but i can't, and i won't.
this week though, when i've been coughing and sneezing and shivering and crying, i've been able to cuddle up to her and give her huge hugs and feel like i'm still her little girl deep down, just hidden beneath layers upon layers of lies.
it's this time of year that we went and collected those crunchy brown leaves and placed them on a collage for her to keep forever. that was about nine years ago though.
sixteen soon. there was a time when i couldn't wait to be sixteen. now it's just another year further away from a time when i was able to do whatever i wanted and not be judged, or compared. it's strange but i feel as though i belong in neverland (no, not michael jackson's place) where i could have stayed young forever and would never have had to grow up and face all this reality.
it's all so ugly and real.
i've wanted to write an entry about my relationship with my mother for a while, and keep forgetting somehow or i keep getting something else to inspire an entry.
pretty much ever since i started seeing jordan i've been distanced from my mother, as though we both feel i'm too grown up to climb into her bed every morning for a cuddle, or to sit beside her on the green recliner while she reads a book and plays with my hair.
and i never talk to her about my problems anymore, as though by telling her the details of my life i'd be setting myself up for a mass interrogation. and i can't really tell her anything anyway, without having to tell a dozen lies to come out with one line of truth.
but i wish i didn't have to hide things from her. i wish i could tell her the problems me and anthony have and the reasons we argue. i wish i could be honest with her and tell her how much i hate this school and how much i've hated it for the past year - and how i'm failing at it - for the first time in my life.
i wish i could just try and begin to describe this feeling i get of emptiness, and the razor-sharp knife edge i feel running across every pore on my body, tinged with acid, burning my skin until i'm nothing more than a red, bubbling scab.
but i can't, and i won't.
this week though, when i've been coughing and sneezing and shivering and crying, i've been able to cuddle up to her and give her huge hugs and feel like i'm still her little girl deep down, just hidden beneath layers upon layers of lies.
it's this time of year that we went and collected those crunchy brown leaves and placed them on a collage for her to keep forever. that was about nine years ago though.
sixteen soon. there was a time when i couldn't wait to be sixteen. now it's just another year further away from a time when i was able to do whatever i wanted and not be judged, or compared. it's strange but i feel as though i belong in neverland (no, not michael jackson's place) where i could have stayed young forever and would never have had to grow up and face all this reality.
it's all so ugly and real.
an unbreakable wall of unbeatable things
i thought i'd write a quick entry before i go to physics. i got a phone call from my friend dan last night at about 2 in the morning. when i woke up this morning i thought it was a dream but when i checked my phone he had in fact rang me. i wonder what for?
i know they're all at lancaster uni for their visit thing, so maybe they're just being rebellious and staying up all night.
i feel as though they're a hundred miles away from where i am, and between us are tornados, storms, whirlwinds and sand storms: an unbreakable wall of unbeatable things.
or maybe it's just that none of us are really making the effort.
i know they're all at lancaster uni for their visit thing, so maybe they're just being rebellious and staying up all night.
i feel as though they're a hundred miles away from where i am, and between us are tornados, storms, whirlwinds and sand storms: an unbreakable wall of unbeatable things.
or maybe it's just that none of us are really making the effort.
always and forever
Eurgggh, my back’s killing and my stomach’s acting like a washing machine on turbo cycle. Cannot be arsed with English and history this afternoon, and I’ve got school pictures sometime soon.
I HATE school pictures. Ever since secondary school my mother has never seen any of my school pictures – I just send them back and say I definitely don’t want one. I did that last year, but my parents ended up going ape shit because they wanted to send a picture of me in my new uniform at my new school to everyone they knew. They probably just wanted to show off.
Anthony’s home tonight, at about tenish. He’s been acting different lately though – no longer ringing me every single spare minute he gets, no mushy text messages. When I talk to him on a night time, he says nothing and leaves me to do all the talking. And then when the conversation runs out he says he’s busy and has to go.
But we never used to run out of conversation. There is always something to talk about – it just needs both parties to make the effort.
And he’s just not.
And I don’t know why.
I can speculate though. A new girl on the scene down there? His mind wandering to the notion of singledom? Or maybe he’s just bored of me, like a repeat of last year and all the drama that came from that. Christ I hope not.
Is my quirkiness no longer quirky? My cuteness no longer cute? Has my pretty smile been erased from his memory?
I guess we’ll find out, as little pieces of me are torn away with every disappointment, every let-down, every broken promise and every lie.
Don’t make me go through that again, Anthony.
I HATE school pictures. Ever since secondary school my mother has never seen any of my school pictures – I just send them back and say I definitely don’t want one. I did that last year, but my parents ended up going ape shit because they wanted to send a picture of me in my new uniform at my new school to everyone they knew. They probably just wanted to show off.
Anthony’s home tonight, at about tenish. He’s been acting different lately though – no longer ringing me every single spare minute he gets, no mushy text messages. When I talk to him on a night time, he says nothing and leaves me to do all the talking. And then when the conversation runs out he says he’s busy and has to go.
But we never used to run out of conversation. There is always something to talk about – it just needs both parties to make the effort.
And he’s just not.
And I don’t know why.
I can speculate though. A new girl on the scene down there? His mind wandering to the notion of singledom? Or maybe he’s just bored of me, like a repeat of last year and all the drama that came from that. Christ I hope not.
Is my quirkiness no longer quirky? My cuteness no longer cute? Has my pretty smile been erased from his memory?
I guess we’ll find out, as little pieces of me are torn away with every disappointment, every let-down, every broken promise and every lie.
Don’t make me go through that again, Anthony.
Tuesday 14 September 2004
queen jane approximately
i'm feeling pretty sorry for myself for no reason in particular really. i'm just cold and coughy and smelly. and sad for some reason.
i went through all of anthony's old letters before - i don't really know why. it felt funny reading them; everything's so different now. i remember back in january and february i used to be sort of scared of him.
at the beginning i was just stringing him along with all the rest of the lads i had on the go. and he put so much effort into winning me over. i felt so glamorous back then - so many boys wanting a piece of me.
in a letter he sent me near valentines day he said he knew it had only been a month, but he knew he'd never felt this way about anyone before. and that was when me and jordan were giving it one last try - which fell through, and i ended up falling into anthony's arms.
it's not like that anymore though. i feel like i'm constantly falling and he's hardly ever there to catch me before i reach the ground. he tries so hard though, does so much for me and i repay him by needing him more and more.
he'll end up leaving me in the end like jordan did. and then who'll be there to catch me?
i think i'm going to become good friends with the cold, wet tarmac.
i went through all of anthony's old letters before - i don't really know why. it felt funny reading them; everything's so different now. i remember back in january and february i used to be sort of scared of him.
at the beginning i was just stringing him along with all the rest of the lads i had on the go. and he put so much effort into winning me over. i felt so glamorous back then - so many boys wanting a piece of me.
in a letter he sent me near valentines day he said he knew it had only been a month, but he knew he'd never felt this way about anyone before. and that was when me and jordan were giving it one last try - which fell through, and i ended up falling into anthony's arms.
it's not like that anymore though. i feel like i'm constantly falling and he's hardly ever there to catch me before i reach the ground. he tries so hard though, does so much for me and i repay him by needing him more and more.
he'll end up leaving me in the end like jordan did. and then who'll be there to catch me?
i think i'm going to become good friends with the cold, wet tarmac.
Monday 13 September 2004
fragile
I’m in geography now – should be doing work but I forgot my folder so I can’t.
Anthony left again last night – and I was fine until we were lying together in my bed five minutes before he was supposed to leave. I burst into tears – unable to speak, hardly able to breathe, and he just held me and told me everything would be alright. But he’s lying – nothing’s been right for such a long time now that I can’t see how it could ever be right again.
I had a temperature, so I wrapped up in about four jumpers two pairs of pyjama pants and three pairs of socks, and went out to the car with him. I sat there crying for even longer, still unable to speak. He kept saying that he’d be home in five days, and that’s all very well – but he’ll be leaving me again in another eleven days. No matter how many times he comes home and no matter how long he’d home for – I’ll always be left somehow.
He told me to stop being so weak and be strong for once – but I can’t – I’ve tried and I can’t. He said he loved me and that he’d always take care of me.
“You’re so fragile, Hannah, I’m worried you'll break if I ever do the wrong thing and end up hurting you.”
Why does he keep leaving me then? I can't take much more of being abandoned every Sunday night only to wake up to the cruel reality of aloneness the next morning.
Anthony left again last night – and I was fine until we were lying together in my bed five minutes before he was supposed to leave. I burst into tears – unable to speak, hardly able to breathe, and he just held me and told me everything would be alright. But he’s lying – nothing’s been right for such a long time now that I can’t see how it could ever be right again.
I had a temperature, so I wrapped up in about four jumpers two pairs of pyjama pants and three pairs of socks, and went out to the car with him. I sat there crying for even longer, still unable to speak. He kept saying that he’d be home in five days, and that’s all very well – but he’ll be leaving me again in another eleven days. No matter how many times he comes home and no matter how long he’d home for – I’ll always be left somehow.
He told me to stop being so weak and be strong for once – but I can’t – I’ve tried and I can’t. He said he loved me and that he’d always take care of me.
“You’re so fragile, Hannah, I’m worried you'll break if I ever do the wrong thing and end up hurting you.”
Why does he keep leaving me then? I can't take much more of being abandoned every Sunday night only to wake up to the cruel reality of aloneness the next morning.
Thursday 9 September 2004
spoons
i'm in the schroder suite again, avoiding work.
i did end up speaking to anthony last night late on. the england match had been on though so he was pissed to the extent of babbling nonsense about spoons and the Independant Newspaper.
i spent about an hour and a half trying to convince him that sleeping on the streets was not a good idea and that i couldn't come and see him because i was in washington, and he was in portsmouth, and there's god knows how many hundred miles between the two.
he wouldn't believe me though.
god knows how or where he is today. probably locked up for assaulting anyone who tried to move him from his little patch of pavement. i honestly don't care how he is today. he said so many hurtful things about me; he was on the phone to my mother for ten minutes explaining to her how selfish, uncaring, hollow a person i am.
i hope he did sleep on the streets - i hope he nearly froze to death.
i did end up speaking to anthony last night late on. the england match had been on though so he was pissed to the extent of babbling nonsense about spoons and the Independant Newspaper.
i spent about an hour and a half trying to convince him that sleeping on the streets was not a good idea and that i couldn't come and see him because i was in washington, and he was in portsmouth, and there's god knows how many hundred miles between the two.
he wouldn't believe me though.
god knows how or where he is today. probably locked up for assaulting anyone who tried to move him from his little patch of pavement. i honestly don't care how he is today. he said so many hurtful things about me; he was on the phone to my mother for ten minutes explaining to her how selfish, uncaring, hollow a person i am.
i hope he did sleep on the streets - i hope he nearly froze to death.
breaking the girl
i'm sorting of writing again today because of something i sort of picked up on.
since i went back to school i've become even more of a recluse than i was before - barely talking to anyone at all - only speaking when spoken to. it just feels like such a huge task to make conversation with people now, especially people who just laugh and scream and shout all through break and luchtime.
now i just avoid all that and take myself to the library to read or just sit and think in silence. i know it's not sociable. i even went to the extent this luchtime of walking all the way over to the far edge of the hockey pitch just to get some peace and quiet to sit and read.
i feel bad because there's one girl who's always been nice and always makes an effort to talk to me. it's like i'm being rude to her though, when i don't make the same effort back and finish our conversations early. it's as though i just can't speak though.
this morning in regestration i sat for twenty five minutes in a class room full of people before anyone spoke to me, and it was her - just asking me how i was. and when i replied my voice came out like a whisper - like it wasn't used to being used for conversation with any of these girls. it's not, i guess.
i do a lot of smiling - as though a smile can make do as a 'hey' or a 'thanks' or a 'yeah'. it doesn't make do though. not nearly enough.
there's just so many holes in me that everything i used to be is lying in puddles on the floor. and everyone keeps stepping in them - splashing little pieces of me away and away until they've gone so far they won't ever come back.
gone so far i'll never be me again.
since i went back to school i've become even more of a recluse than i was before - barely talking to anyone at all - only speaking when spoken to. it just feels like such a huge task to make conversation with people now, especially people who just laugh and scream and shout all through break and luchtime.
now i just avoid all that and take myself to the library to read or just sit and think in silence. i know it's not sociable. i even went to the extent this luchtime of walking all the way over to the far edge of the hockey pitch just to get some peace and quiet to sit and read.
i feel bad because there's one girl who's always been nice and always makes an effort to talk to me. it's like i'm being rude to her though, when i don't make the same effort back and finish our conversations early. it's as though i just can't speak though.
this morning in regestration i sat for twenty five minutes in a class room full of people before anyone spoke to me, and it was her - just asking me how i was. and when i replied my voice came out like a whisper - like it wasn't used to being used for conversation with any of these girls. it's not, i guess.
i do a lot of smiling - as though a smile can make do as a 'hey' or a 'thanks' or a 'yeah'. it doesn't make do though. not nearly enough.
there's just so many holes in me that everything i used to be is lying in puddles on the floor. and everyone keeps stepping in them - splashing little pieces of me away and away until they've gone so far they won't ever come back.
gone so far i'll never be me again.
Wednesday 8 September 2004
miss you when you're gone
i haven't spoken to anthony for almost twenty fours hours now. last night we had an argument about the way i think he talks to me - as though everything he says is the law and i must obey or else be punished. i'm sick of being treat like a child.
yeah, fine, whatever if he's six years older than me and thinks he knows best, that still doesn't give him the right to dictate to me what i can and can't do. for every question he asks me there's one correct answer and if i fail to give that he goes crazy.
he's been texting me all day and every message i receive is another guilty hole being drilled into me, leaving me full of holes and drained of energy.
i think this is where it's going to end to be honest. i wish he'd just give up too sometimes. we would have been over a long time ago had he not been so persistent. i shouldn't have to feel this guilty about not feeling...
that's the thing. i don't really feel anything for him. it just feels comfortable to be with him whenever he's home, and that's it really.
i know it's stupid but i had a dream about him last night. i dreamt that he was an evil supervillain, and he kept coming after me. i ran away from him up a spiral staircase, and every step felt like i was lifting a thousand tonne weight. and he flew after me and caught me on the stairs, and punched me and kicked me and threw me around. and then finally he threw me off the stairs, leaving me to plummet towards the ground.
but someone saved me - a superhero. he held me in his arms and vowed to seek revenge upon anthony the evil supervillain.
yeah, i already know it's screwed up and i should probably seek medical help.
yeah, fine, whatever if he's six years older than me and thinks he knows best, that still doesn't give him the right to dictate to me what i can and can't do. for every question he asks me there's one correct answer and if i fail to give that he goes crazy.
he's been texting me all day and every message i receive is another guilty hole being drilled into me, leaving me full of holes and drained of energy.
i think this is where it's going to end to be honest. i wish he'd just give up too sometimes. we would have been over a long time ago had he not been so persistent. i shouldn't have to feel this guilty about not feeling...
that's the thing. i don't really feel anything for him. it just feels comfortable to be with him whenever he's home, and that's it really.
i know it's stupid but i had a dream about him last night. i dreamt that he was an evil supervillain, and he kept coming after me. i ran away from him up a spiral staircase, and every step felt like i was lifting a thousand tonne weight. and he flew after me and caught me on the stairs, and punched me and kicked me and threw me around. and then finally he threw me off the stairs, leaving me to plummet towards the ground.
but someone saved me - a superhero. he held me in his arms and vowed to seek revenge upon anthony the evil supervillain.
yeah, i already know it's screwed up and i should probably seek medical help.
Monday 6 September 2004
seven years
i was sitting on the bus on the way to a history field trip this morning, and i got a blinding migraine. the whole journey i never talked to a single person, and not a single person talked to me.
perhaps i'm invisible again.
all i could hear the whole journey was everyone squealing and laughing and joking and having fun. they make a distinct noise - a jabbering, like they're saying "jabber" over and over and over and over again. every single person on that bus was jabbering away like one of those 'Jabberboxes' you used to be able to buy that made a 'jabber' noise when its neck bent forward. they used to drive me mad.
and while the bus drove happily on its way to Finchale Priory, i watched out the window as we drove past people, buildings, houses, farms, trees, hay bales. despite the stabbing pain that felt like a knife lodged diagonally through my skull, i managed to remember how it was this time of year back where i used to live.
i remember stepping out of the secret door at the far end of my back garden, and being faced with fields upon fields of new hay bales. i remember playing in those fields with my friends - pretending the scarecrow man was alive, games of hide and seeks behind all those hay bales, eating jam sandwiches in the shade. everything was golden and fresh and pure and new.
then when i was eight they built three new estates on all of that land.
i snapped out of my flash from the past and got off the bus to learn some history - yeah.
when i look back i wish that my seventh birthday was my last. nothing had ever been better than being seven years old with no responsibilty, no worries, no pressure. i had an unlimited supply of energy.
where did all that go?
everything was possible back then.
now all the future does is just loom ahead - another piece of coursework to ignore, another exam to fail.
and no one gives a shit.
perhaps i'm invisible again.
all i could hear the whole journey was everyone squealing and laughing and joking and having fun. they make a distinct noise - a jabbering, like they're saying "jabber" over and over and over and over again. every single person on that bus was jabbering away like one of those 'Jabberboxes' you used to be able to buy that made a 'jabber' noise when its neck bent forward. they used to drive me mad.
and while the bus drove happily on its way to Finchale Priory, i watched out the window as we drove past people, buildings, houses, farms, trees, hay bales. despite the stabbing pain that felt like a knife lodged diagonally through my skull, i managed to remember how it was this time of year back where i used to live.
i remember stepping out of the secret door at the far end of my back garden, and being faced with fields upon fields of new hay bales. i remember playing in those fields with my friends - pretending the scarecrow man was alive, games of hide and seeks behind all those hay bales, eating jam sandwiches in the shade. everything was golden and fresh and pure and new.
then when i was eight they built three new estates on all of that land.
i snapped out of my flash from the past and got off the bus to learn some history - yeah.
when i look back i wish that my seventh birthday was my last. nothing had ever been better than being seven years old with no responsibilty, no worries, no pressure. i had an unlimited supply of energy.
where did all that go?
everything was possible back then.
now all the future does is just loom ahead - another piece of coursework to ignore, another exam to fail.
and no one gives a shit.
Sunday 5 September 2004
just like a woman
why is it that i can sit and write on here for hours but can't even imagine the possibility of making an effort to clear the knee-high pile of coursework notes i NEED to look through.
it's like one of those office-type cartoons you see with an IN tray piled up to the ceiling, and a completely empty OUT tray. having said that though, the OUT tray isn't totally bare. my social life, my energy, my joy, my passion, my self-respect, even my dreams are in there. and it's as though they're what everyone is feeding off.
but everyone is so fucking hungry.
anthony left early this morning, leaving me once again to an empty bed. we went to a friend's house last night, and even though we've spent a lot of time there before last night i felt as though i was sitting in the corner watching grown-ups talk about grown-up things.
but the funny thing is, when i went back to school on thursday, while everyone was jabbering on about their amazing holidays, i felt old. i felt like a grown-up sitting in the corner watching children talk about juvenile things.
i don't fit in anywhere. it got so confusing, and so frustrating, to the point where i had to just walk out of the classroom at school and sit in the library for a while to calm myself down. and i had to walk out of sara's living room and sit in the bathroom for ten minutes to stop myself shaking.
when we got in last night anthony and i sat out in the garden with a bottle of wine and a few candles. i tried to explain it to him then but i just gave up in the end.
while i was smoking my cigarette, i noticed dark brown veins forming from the tip. i kept smoking it until the veins reached my fingers. i imagined these veins running through my whole body, like dirty blood: like i was dead, and yet my stale blood still managed to circulate around me.
even while anthony and i had sex later last night, i was still thinking about these brown veins running through me. every thrust was like the heartbeat pumping the brown blood through my veins.
i miss him already. only thirteen more days until he comes home again.
it's like one of those office-type cartoons you see with an IN tray piled up to the ceiling, and a completely empty OUT tray. having said that though, the OUT tray isn't totally bare. my social life, my energy, my joy, my passion, my self-respect, even my dreams are in there. and it's as though they're what everyone is feeding off.
but everyone is so fucking hungry.
anthony left early this morning, leaving me once again to an empty bed. we went to a friend's house last night, and even though we've spent a lot of time there before last night i felt as though i was sitting in the corner watching grown-ups talk about grown-up things.
but the funny thing is, when i went back to school on thursday, while everyone was jabbering on about their amazing holidays, i felt old. i felt like a grown-up sitting in the corner watching children talk about juvenile things.
i don't fit in anywhere. it got so confusing, and so frustrating, to the point where i had to just walk out of the classroom at school and sit in the library for a while to calm myself down. and i had to walk out of sara's living room and sit in the bathroom for ten minutes to stop myself shaking.
when we got in last night anthony and i sat out in the garden with a bottle of wine and a few candles. i tried to explain it to him then but i just gave up in the end.
while i was smoking my cigarette, i noticed dark brown veins forming from the tip. i kept smoking it until the veins reached my fingers. i imagined these veins running through my whole body, like dirty blood: like i was dead, and yet my stale blood still managed to circulate around me.
even while anthony and i had sex later last night, i was still thinking about these brown veins running through me. every thrust was like the heartbeat pumping the brown blood through my veins.
i miss him already. only thirteen more days until he comes home again.
Friday 3 September 2004
kosovo
at school again in another IT suite. i'm wearing stockings today as a dare from anthony. it feels.... breezy.
still no word from any of my friends. i'm not contacting them until i hear from them. that could take a while though.
anthony's home tonight, and i'm looking forward to seeing him. he is, afterall practically the only person left in my life.
he could be going to kosovo in novemeber - for six months.
i'll die.
still no word from any of my friends. i'm not contacting them until i hear from them. that could take a while though.
anthony's home tonight, and i'm looking forward to seeing him. he is, afterall practically the only person left in my life.
he could be going to kosovo in novemeber - for six months.
i'll die.
Thursday 2 September 2004
my work on the wall
i'm at school, once again, in the schroder suite. everything's pretty much the same and i haven't been grilled for not doing any work whatsoever yet. this is my free period and i haven't got any work to do with me - what a shame.
most of my friends don't go back until monday or tuesday, which is pretty unfair i think. i haven't spoken to my friends from my old school in weeks. i think they've pretty much forgotten about me. i never get invited to their trips and outings and parties anymore. maybe i should give up making the effort with them - it never seems to be returned.
me and D went and looked around our old school yesterday. it seemed so strange to be looking at my work still hanging on the walls a year after i left. i know things would be a lot different if i'd stayed there instead of running away. maybe i'd still be with jordan, myabe i'd still have friends, maybe i wouldn't be failing at school. maybe a lot of things would be the same.
but i didn't stay; instead, here i am sitting tapping away at one of the many many state of the art computers that durham high school for girls offers its students.
oh well, back to reality - and some work hopefully.
most of my friends don't go back until monday or tuesday, which is pretty unfair i think. i haven't spoken to my friends from my old school in weeks. i think they've pretty much forgotten about me. i never get invited to their trips and outings and parties anymore. maybe i should give up making the effort with them - it never seems to be returned.
me and D went and looked around our old school yesterday. it seemed so strange to be looking at my work still hanging on the walls a year after i left. i know things would be a lot different if i'd stayed there instead of running away. maybe i'd still be with jordan, myabe i'd still have friends, maybe i wouldn't be failing at school. maybe a lot of things would be the same.
but i didn't stay; instead, here i am sitting tapping away at one of the many many state of the art computers that durham high school for girls offers its students.
oh well, back to reality - and some work hopefully.
Wednesday 1 September 2004
warning sign
anthony left on monday night. school on thursday - tomorrow. oh god.
seven pieces of coursework not done, five of which are overdue.
my good friend D is home for a visit this week. we went to newcastle this morning and did the same thing we always do when he's home. we shopped, made fun of people, went to starbucks, went to the laing.
when we were sitting drinking coffee (non-fat decaf, i'm on a diet) he told me the main reason he came back was to make sure i'm ok.
he said he had a dream on saturday night, that we were sitting on a bridge together with our legs hanging over the edge. he said his legs almost touched the ground but mine were miles above the speeding cars below us.
he said we were talking about death and beauty, and he told me i was beautiful. i told him beauty fades away in the end, just like life does. he said i'd always be beautiful, and i said only if time held me here forever. then he said a train came over the bridge and he couldn't hear what i was saying over the noise, but he knew it was intense. i kissed him on the cheek and slid off the bridge.
the way my body hit the road just sounded like a doll being thrown on the ground by a child.
my head burst open like a watermelon.
i smiled over my coffee and said i'm not about to jump of a bridge, D. he said he knows me, he said he knows i'm too dramatic for my own good.
he asked me what i thought i was saying as the train passed by. i told him that we'll never be as beautiful as we are now. everyday another imperfection comes our way and makes us less and less beautiful. i told him beauty can be immortalised. i showed him a picture we'd just taken of ourselves on his phone and told him that if we died right now this was how we'd look forever.
he told me i'm only fifteen. and i'll grow more and more beautiful as i grow up. he said he thinks i've changed; i'm not his little friend anymore, and he doesn't know how to look at me. i told him it's because we've both grown up, and we're both just starting to realise it. he agreed.
he said when he looks in my eyes he nolonger sees excitement and life and love, just emptiness and sadness and big black pupils. he said he's not going to tell me he's worried about me because i'm a big girl now, but that when he comes home next time he wants me to be alive.
i love spending time with D.
seven pieces of coursework not done, five of which are overdue.
my good friend D is home for a visit this week. we went to newcastle this morning and did the same thing we always do when he's home. we shopped, made fun of people, went to starbucks, went to the laing.
when we were sitting drinking coffee (non-fat decaf, i'm on a diet) he told me the main reason he came back was to make sure i'm ok.
he said he had a dream on saturday night, that we were sitting on a bridge together with our legs hanging over the edge. he said his legs almost touched the ground but mine were miles above the speeding cars below us.
he said we were talking about death and beauty, and he told me i was beautiful. i told him beauty fades away in the end, just like life does. he said i'd always be beautiful, and i said only if time held me here forever. then he said a train came over the bridge and he couldn't hear what i was saying over the noise, but he knew it was intense. i kissed him on the cheek and slid off the bridge.
the way my body hit the road just sounded like a doll being thrown on the ground by a child.
my head burst open like a watermelon.
i smiled over my coffee and said i'm not about to jump of a bridge, D. he said he knows me, he said he knows i'm too dramatic for my own good.
he asked me what i thought i was saying as the train passed by. i told him that we'll never be as beautiful as we are now. everyday another imperfection comes our way and makes us less and less beautiful. i told him beauty can be immortalised. i showed him a picture we'd just taken of ourselves on his phone and told him that if we died right now this was how we'd look forever.
he told me i'm only fifteen. and i'll grow more and more beautiful as i grow up. he said he thinks i've changed; i'm not his little friend anymore, and he doesn't know how to look at me. i told him it's because we've both grown up, and we're both just starting to realise it. he agreed.
he said when he looks in my eyes he nolonger sees excitement and life and love, just emptiness and sadness and big black pupils. he said he's not going to tell me he's worried about me because i'm a big girl now, but that when he comes home next time he wants me to be alive.
i love spending time with D.
Wednesday 28 July 2004
mister christopher
i know i haven't written for a while and there's really no excuse since i've been doing nothing for the past twenty days. i've just felt totally derived of energy, as though every movement is like a task as consuming as climbing mount everest.
i suppose i haven't been doing nothing though; i've been out with my friends, mainly noah, i've been decorating my new room, and seeing beau.
i went out again with some friends last friday night and while i was standing at the bar beau appeared from nowhere and paid for my drink. we talked briefly and i saw some of the friends i made last year when i used to spend time with him. but i had a taxi to catch as me and my friends were off to another bar. when we eventually came back to the area i'd met him, i got a text asking me to meet him outside.
he'd been in a fight and was covered in blood, so i walked him to his dad's house, who happened to be out, totally ditching my friends without even saying goodbye. when we got there we went to the bathroom and he sat down on the edge of the bath tub while i sorted his face out; he had a number of cuts on his face and his nose was swollen.
while i was doing this it was sort of hard not to look at each other and it got quite awkward. he put his head down and he started to cry. i didn't know what to say, i just felt so much emotion it was hard to keep it in. i got on my knees and looked him in the face, wiping his tears away like everything was going to be alright. we had a cuddle and he seemed alright after a while, so i told him to change out of his t-shirt.
he got a top out of his wardrobe and i couldn't help but let out a little laugh. he asked me what it was, and i should have just said nothing, should have just told him some silly lie and perhaps nothing would have happened. but no, i told him it was funny because that was the t-shirt he wore last year when i went back to his mum's flat with him after a night out together. he smiled too and from there we started talking about last year and how good it felt and how much we missed each others' company.
somehow this conversation led to his dad's double bed and somehow we ended up taking our shoes off and lying back together. we kept talking until things got more and more intense and we looked at each other more and more and got closer and closer.
i can't remember who started the kissing, i just remember him pulling away, saying it was wrong and he felt guilty, just like i did a whole year ago. but i didn't stop, i kissed him again and he soon shut up. things just got more intense and the inevitable happened.
it was like desperate sex, even more passionate than it used to be with jordan. everything already hurt so much that the sex was harder and deeper than anything before.
i've never come like that before. i burst into tears and he just lay there with me not asking why, just holding me and stroking my hair for about ten minutes. i wanted to lie there all night with him, but it was two in the morning and my parents were probably wondering where i was.
he walked me home a bit later and we said goodbye in the same spot where we first kissed last year. it was literally two days away from being a year since the night we first kissed.
i was confused all of that night and talking to 'joe' on the phone didn't help. "where the fuck have you been?" "why the fuck was your phone switched off?" and i just wanted to tell him, afterall, maybe if i just told him he would leave me alone once and for all. but i didn't, i just acted totally normal as though nothing was wrong and i hadn't just been fucking another guy.
the next day i went to his mum's flat again and sat with him and his little brother. when he went to sleep we fucked again and he got me a taxi home. i think that by that night i'd made the decision to end things with 'joe' and start a relationship with beau. he'd been begging me all of saturday to leave 'joe' and be with him, and i think that i'd decided that was what i actually wanted.
on tuesday i went to see him again and as soon as i spoke to him i knew things were different. to cut a long story short his ex girlfriend monique was back on the seen and decided she loved him again. so even though i was there with him it was romantic, it wasn't sexy or exciting. just heart-breaking to know that i'd wound myself up fucking good and proper for no reason.
when i got home again i still told 'joe' i didn't love him anymore. i told him the truth; that i feel totally empty when i'm with him. but i feel empty all the time, maybe it's nothing to do with him.
i sure as hell didn't feel empty on those nights with beau though.
i suppose i haven't been doing nothing though; i've been out with my friends, mainly noah, i've been decorating my new room, and seeing beau.
i went out again with some friends last friday night and while i was standing at the bar beau appeared from nowhere and paid for my drink. we talked briefly and i saw some of the friends i made last year when i used to spend time with him. but i had a taxi to catch as me and my friends were off to another bar. when we eventually came back to the area i'd met him, i got a text asking me to meet him outside.
he'd been in a fight and was covered in blood, so i walked him to his dad's house, who happened to be out, totally ditching my friends without even saying goodbye. when we got there we went to the bathroom and he sat down on the edge of the bath tub while i sorted his face out; he had a number of cuts on his face and his nose was swollen.
while i was doing this it was sort of hard not to look at each other and it got quite awkward. he put his head down and he started to cry. i didn't know what to say, i just felt so much emotion it was hard to keep it in. i got on my knees and looked him in the face, wiping his tears away like everything was going to be alright. we had a cuddle and he seemed alright after a while, so i told him to change out of his t-shirt.
he got a top out of his wardrobe and i couldn't help but let out a little laugh. he asked me what it was, and i should have just said nothing, should have just told him some silly lie and perhaps nothing would have happened. but no, i told him it was funny because that was the t-shirt he wore last year when i went back to his mum's flat with him after a night out together. he smiled too and from there we started talking about last year and how good it felt and how much we missed each others' company.
somehow this conversation led to his dad's double bed and somehow we ended up taking our shoes off and lying back together. we kept talking until things got more and more intense and we looked at each other more and more and got closer and closer.
i can't remember who started the kissing, i just remember him pulling away, saying it was wrong and he felt guilty, just like i did a whole year ago. but i didn't stop, i kissed him again and he soon shut up. things just got more intense and the inevitable happened.
it was like desperate sex, even more passionate than it used to be with jordan. everything already hurt so much that the sex was harder and deeper than anything before.
i've never come like that before. i burst into tears and he just lay there with me not asking why, just holding me and stroking my hair for about ten minutes. i wanted to lie there all night with him, but it was two in the morning and my parents were probably wondering where i was.
he walked me home a bit later and we said goodbye in the same spot where we first kissed last year. it was literally two days away from being a year since the night we first kissed.
i was confused all of that night and talking to 'joe' on the phone didn't help. "where the fuck have you been?" "why the fuck was your phone switched off?" and i just wanted to tell him, afterall, maybe if i just told him he would leave me alone once and for all. but i didn't, i just acted totally normal as though nothing was wrong and i hadn't just been fucking another guy.
the next day i went to his mum's flat again and sat with him and his little brother. when he went to sleep we fucked again and he got me a taxi home. i think that by that night i'd made the decision to end things with 'joe' and start a relationship with beau. he'd been begging me all of saturday to leave 'joe' and be with him, and i think that i'd decided that was what i actually wanted.
on tuesday i went to see him again and as soon as i spoke to him i knew things were different. to cut a long story short his ex girlfriend monique was back on the seen and decided she loved him again. so even though i was there with him it was romantic, it wasn't sexy or exciting. just heart-breaking to know that i'd wound myself up fucking good and proper for no reason.
when i got home again i still told 'joe' i didn't love him anymore. i told him the truth; that i feel totally empty when i'm with him. but i feel empty all the time, maybe it's nothing to do with him.
i sure as hell didn't feel empty on those nights with beau though.
Sunday 18 July 2004
Beau
Beau. Beautiful Beau.
How funny it is that I’m making last year’s mistakes with him all over again.
I think it’s more serious this time though. He wants ‘a relationship’. Christ, how I’ve come to hate that word over the last year or so.
That’s such an easy thing for him to want, after all he’s not with Monique anymore. I’m with Anthony though: a whole new relationship I’ve fucked up by fucking Beau – again.
Maybe I’m supposed to be with Beau. Surely all this meaningless sex must mean something? He’s such a nice boy, who’ve I’ve managed to accidentally fuck numerous times. It must mean something.
I’m so tempted to fuck Anthony off and be with Beau. I’ve known him since I was nine years old and used to follow him around when he was friends with my big sister. I’m not nine years old anymore though
How funny it is that I’m making last year’s mistakes with him all over again.
I think it’s more serious this time though. He wants ‘a relationship’. Christ, how I’ve come to hate that word over the last year or so.
That’s such an easy thing for him to want, after all he’s not with Monique anymore. I’m with Anthony though: a whole new relationship I’ve fucked up by fucking Beau – again.
Maybe I’m supposed to be with Beau. Surely all this meaningless sex must mean something? He’s such a nice boy, who’ve I’ve managed to accidentally fuck numerous times. It must mean something.
I’m so tempted to fuck Anthony off and be with Beau. I’ve known him since I was nine years old and used to follow him around when he was friends with my big sister. I’m not nine years old anymore though
Friday 16 July 2004
mental state
Everything’s so fucking quiet. It’s July 16th – 1:51 am and nothing in my life has ever been so quiet. This quietness – I’m sure – is what’s bringing out these voices. No one in reality whispers my name “Han-nah”. People usually just say “Hannah” quickly, trying to fit it into one syllable. But not these voices, oh no siree.
Everything is so quiet that my mind has created them to keep me company. Who knows, maybe they’ll stick around like Mirabella and Nathaniel did. Ah, the good old days when there was actually a point in summer breaks, and that was of course to ride bikes all day long and make houses out of stones and climb trees as tall as ten houses. Seven years old with a purpose in life – being seven. Being fifteen and failing at school for the first time ever kind of puts things into perspective.
As soon as you’re fifteen childhood seems to officially end forever and ever, and every year from then onwards is about the next, and the next and the next and the next. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I’m cracking up big time and no one gives a shit. Why should they? After all, quite frankly I couldn’t give a shit about anyone else either. Why the fuck should someone else’s problems concern me? I’m too busy wallowing in self-inflicted boredom, loneliness, shame, and just plain craziness. The funniest thing is, what fucking cracks me up (no pun intended) is that I’ve finally got everything I wanted.
I got that scholarship – that ‘gateway to even higher achieving’. I got that devoted boyfriend who loves me and does everything for me and puts up with my craziness. I got that detached relationship with my family.
Everything I asked for. But I fucked up big time by not stating what quantities and proportions I expected these to come in.
Everything is to the extreme. I’ve succeeded in fucking up once again.
My sanity is paying for those wishing I frivolously made.
I’m just the epitome of fucked up.
Everything is so quiet that my mind has created them to keep me company. Who knows, maybe they’ll stick around like Mirabella and Nathaniel did. Ah, the good old days when there was actually a point in summer breaks, and that was of course to ride bikes all day long and make houses out of stones and climb trees as tall as ten houses. Seven years old with a purpose in life – being seven. Being fifteen and failing at school for the first time ever kind of puts things into perspective.
As soon as you’re fifteen childhood seems to officially end forever and ever, and every year from then onwards is about the next, and the next and the next and the next. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I’m cracking up big time and no one gives a shit. Why should they? After all, quite frankly I couldn’t give a shit about anyone else either. Why the fuck should someone else’s problems concern me? I’m too busy wallowing in self-inflicted boredom, loneliness, shame, and just plain craziness. The funniest thing is, what fucking cracks me up (no pun intended) is that I’ve finally got everything I wanted.
I got that scholarship – that ‘gateway to even higher achieving’. I got that devoted boyfriend who loves me and does everything for me and puts up with my craziness. I got that detached relationship with my family.
Everything I asked for. But I fucked up big time by not stating what quantities and proportions I expected these to come in.
Everything is to the extreme. I’ve succeeded in fucking up once again.
My sanity is paying for those wishing I frivolously made.
I’m just the epitome of fucked up.
Sunday 11 July 2004
welcome to marlboro contry
it's been a few days since i updated and to be honest i've done pretty much fuck all since then.
on thursday after school broke up at lunch time i met my friend noah who was skipping school, and we went to newcastle. we haven't spent time alone like that for so long, when i think about it probably not since we used to walk home together after school in year 7, 8 and some of yr 9.
it felt so nice to feel so laid-back and relaxed with someone again.
with isobel conversation always feels so tense now because we both always feel guilty for not having spoken to each other for so long. we only speak to each other about once a week now.
with william we talk openly and honestly about pretty much everything, but he's so intense that it makes me feel uncomfortable sometimes. we have an erratic speaking pattern, sometimes we'll talk to each other every night for a week, and then other times we won't speak for weeks.
with noah though, it's pretty steady the way in which we talk to each other. this time last year i'd say he was the one out of all three of my close friends i was most distanced from, but since september last year i've probably talked to him more than any other friend. we speak a few nights a week about nothing in particular, and we also talk to each other this way. he reads what i write and i read what he writes and we don't judge, we just acknowledge whatever the other had said and keep it to ourselves. this kind of relationship requires a lot more trust i think than any other of my relationships with people, even if it is through cyberspace.
but on thursday it was just us two together in a city of thousands. we went to the laing, criticised and appreciated art, drank coffee together in the basement of starbucks, looked through books and dream dictionaries in waterstones, and i bought some marlboro lights.
while we were sitting in starbucks i sat back in the sofa with my coffee in my hands and i swear i felt more relaxed then than i have in months. why can't every day be like that?
on friday night i went out on the piss with some people i haven't seen in ages. beau was there. he was with a german foreign exchange student called lisa.
it's been almost a year since that night. that year's gone by so fast.
i left the pub at 1:30, and walked home. i remember sitting down on a stone wall and talking to 'joe' on the phone, and i was screaming that there were bugs everywhere, cockroaches crawling round my ankles and beetles in my hair.
he told me i needed help and i told him the truth, that i was already looking for it.
i smoked 17 cigarettes in the space of 7 hours.
i got home at 4:00.
on thursday after school broke up at lunch time i met my friend noah who was skipping school, and we went to newcastle. we haven't spent time alone like that for so long, when i think about it probably not since we used to walk home together after school in year 7, 8 and some of yr 9.
it felt so nice to feel so laid-back and relaxed with someone again.
with isobel conversation always feels so tense now because we both always feel guilty for not having spoken to each other for so long. we only speak to each other about once a week now.
with william we talk openly and honestly about pretty much everything, but he's so intense that it makes me feel uncomfortable sometimes. we have an erratic speaking pattern, sometimes we'll talk to each other every night for a week, and then other times we won't speak for weeks.
with noah though, it's pretty steady the way in which we talk to each other. this time last year i'd say he was the one out of all three of my close friends i was most distanced from, but since september last year i've probably talked to him more than any other friend. we speak a few nights a week about nothing in particular, and we also talk to each other this way. he reads what i write and i read what he writes and we don't judge, we just acknowledge whatever the other had said and keep it to ourselves. this kind of relationship requires a lot more trust i think than any other of my relationships with people, even if it is through cyberspace.
but on thursday it was just us two together in a city of thousands. we went to the laing, criticised and appreciated art, drank coffee together in the basement of starbucks, looked through books and dream dictionaries in waterstones, and i bought some marlboro lights.
while we were sitting in starbucks i sat back in the sofa with my coffee in my hands and i swear i felt more relaxed then than i have in months. why can't every day be like that?
on friday night i went out on the piss with some people i haven't seen in ages. beau was there. he was with a german foreign exchange student called lisa.
it's been almost a year since that night. that year's gone by so fast.
i left the pub at 1:30, and walked home. i remember sitting down on a stone wall and talking to 'joe' on the phone, and i was screaming that there were bugs everywhere, cockroaches crawling round my ankles and beetles in my hair.
he told me i needed help and i told him the truth, that i was already looking for it.
i smoked 17 cigarettes in the space of 7 hours.
i got home at 4:00.
Wednesday 7 July 2004
pretty dreams
I’m in chemistry now, starting my evaluation. I’m finally up to date with everything else, which feels great. Everyone reacted the way I thought they would when I came in. “Are you better now? Or were you just sciving?” The only reason I’m better is because I haven’t eaten for 3 days. I can’t keep food down, but I suppose as long as I don’t eat I can’t be sick. I still feel nauseous though.
‘joe’ won’t be home for a few weeks now cos he’s on courses and stuff. He thinks he’ll be drafted for Iraq soon. Great.
I had a dream the other night about my friends noah, isobel and william. We hadn’t seen each other for a long time and decided we would all go out together for a drink.
We ended up going to a nightclub that was actually a run-down cinema, no seats and the screen was torn to pieces.
It was just us there with banging rock music in the background and bottles and bottles of drink. We got hammered and went crazy together dancing like mad animals to eardrum-splitting Nirvana and Guns and Roses and all sorts of other heavy shit.
On the torn screen there were films showing moments we’d all spent together in the past and moments we’d spent alone in need of each other.
As we got more and more drunk the music died down and got quieter and quieter until we were all lying on the floor together looking up at the ceiling.
We talked. We talked about everything, and we were all honest for the first time in ages. We slagged each other off where it was appropriate and apologised for when we were ever in the wrong.
We shared things with each other; things we’d been bottling up for months and even years. We cried, we laughed, and we listened to each other’s stories.
And there was one thing we all had in common. We had all cut ourselves. We all had purple scars on our legs or our arms. We had all experienced the same misery that caused us to mutilate our bodies. It was so strange.
For the record I’ve got no idea if any of my friends have ever cut themselves, or if they’ve ever been close. I think in the dream the cutting was just meant to symbolise our misery when we couldn’t share together, but showing each other our scars showed that we could still share our problems with each other even though we’ve drifted apart over the last year or so.
Maybe it as just another crazy dream though.
‘joe’ won’t be home for a few weeks now cos he’s on courses and stuff. He thinks he’ll be drafted for Iraq soon. Great.
I had a dream the other night about my friends noah, isobel and william. We hadn’t seen each other for a long time and decided we would all go out together for a drink.
We ended up going to a nightclub that was actually a run-down cinema, no seats and the screen was torn to pieces.
It was just us there with banging rock music in the background and bottles and bottles of drink. We got hammered and went crazy together dancing like mad animals to eardrum-splitting Nirvana and Guns and Roses and all sorts of other heavy shit.
On the torn screen there were films showing moments we’d all spent together in the past and moments we’d spent alone in need of each other.
As we got more and more drunk the music died down and got quieter and quieter until we were all lying on the floor together looking up at the ceiling.
We talked. We talked about everything, and we were all honest for the first time in ages. We slagged each other off where it was appropriate and apologised for when we were ever in the wrong.
We shared things with each other; things we’d been bottling up for months and even years. We cried, we laughed, and we listened to each other’s stories.
And there was one thing we all had in common. We had all cut ourselves. We all had purple scars on our legs or our arms. We had all experienced the same misery that caused us to mutilate our bodies. It was so strange.
For the record I’ve got no idea if any of my friends have ever cut themselves, or if they’ve ever been close. I think in the dream the cutting was just meant to symbolise our misery when we couldn’t share together, but showing each other our scars showed that we could still share our problems with each other even though we’ve drifted apart over the last year or so.
Maybe it as just another crazy dream though.
pretty dreams
I’m in chemistry now, starting my evaluation. I’m finally up to date with everything else, which feels great. Everyone reacted the way I thought they would when I came in. “Are you better now? Or were you just sciving?” The only reason I’m better is because I haven’t eaten for 3 days. I can’t keep food down, but I suppose as long as I don’t eat I can’t be sick. I still feel nauseous though.
‘joe’ won’t be home for a few weeks now cos he’s on courses and stuff. He thinks he’ll be drafted for Iraq soon. Great.
I had a dream the other night about my friends noah, isobel and william. We hadn’t seen each other for a long time and decided we would all go out together for a drink.
We ended up going to a nightclub that was actually a run-down cinema, no seats and the screen was torn to pieces.
It was just us there with banging rock music in the background and bottles and bottles of drink. We got hammered and went crazy together dancing like mad animals to eardrum-splitting Nirvana and Guns and Roses and all sorts of other heavy shit.
On the torn screen there were films showing moments we’d all spent together in the past and moments we’d spent alone in need of each other.
As we got more and more drunk the music died down and got quieter and quieter until we were all lying on the floor together looking up at the ceiling.
We talked. We talked about everything, and we were all honest for the first time in ages. We slagged each other off where it was appropriate and apologised for when we were ever in the wrong.
We shared things with each other; things we’d been bottling up for months and even years. We cried, we laughed, and we listened to each other’s stories.
And there was one thing we all had in common. We had all cut ourselves. We all had purple scars on our legs or our arms. We had all experienced the same misery that caused us to mutilate our bodies. It was so strange.
For the record I’ve got no idea if any of my friends have ever cut themselves, or if they’ve ever been close. I think in the dream the cutting was just meant to symbolise our misery when we couldn’t share together, but showing each other our scars showed that we could still share our problems with each other even though we’ve drifted apart over the last year or so.
Maybe it as just another crazy dream though.
‘joe’ won’t be home for a few weeks now cos he’s on courses and stuff. He thinks he’ll be drafted for Iraq soon. Great.
I had a dream the other night about my friends noah, isobel and william. We hadn’t seen each other for a long time and decided we would all go out together for a drink.
We ended up going to a nightclub that was actually a run-down cinema, no seats and the screen was torn to pieces.
It was just us there with banging rock music in the background and bottles and bottles of drink. We got hammered and went crazy together dancing like mad animals to eardrum-splitting Nirvana and Guns and Roses and all sorts of other heavy shit.
On the torn screen there were films showing moments we’d all spent together in the past and moments we’d spent alone in need of each other.
As we got more and more drunk the music died down and got quieter and quieter until we were all lying on the floor together looking up at the ceiling.
We talked. We talked about everything, and we were all honest for the first time in ages. We slagged each other off where it was appropriate and apologised for when we were ever in the wrong.
We shared things with each other; things we’d been bottling up for months and even years. We cried, we laughed, and we listened to each other’s stories.
And there was one thing we all had in common. We had all cut ourselves. We all had purple scars on our legs or our arms. We had all experienced the same misery that caused us to mutilate our bodies. It was so strange.
For the record I’ve got no idea if any of my friends have ever cut themselves, or if they’ve ever been close. I think in the dream the cutting was just meant to symbolise our misery when we couldn’t share together, but showing each other our scars showed that we could still share our problems with each other even though we’ve drifted apart over the last year or so.
Maybe it as just another crazy dream though.
everlasting slumber
‘tis me, writing from the schroder suite. i’m in geography doing coursework, sort of, and i’ve just been to see my form tutor for my report reading. my parents are going to have a heart attack when i show them it.
i never used to worry about reports because i always did well, but this year i got my first ever ever ever D, together with a couple of Cs, a few Bs and a couple of As. when i opened it i wasn't even shocked, i knew it was coming anyway.
my mum's going to want to know what's happening to me, and my dad'll probably shout at me about how much he pays for my schooling and how i'm not worth it.
i can't be bothered anymore. i'm going to stop trying all together, i'll just do what's necessary to get by and waste what was my potential.
i just don't have the energy to do anything anymore. sometimes i'll say something and not recognise my voice because i haven't spoken for so long. i don't like chatting to people; it makes me feel tired and like i just want to curl up in a ball and fall asleep.
i love sleep.
i hate waking up.
right now i feel like clearing my desk and putting my head down for a long sleep.
but what i want more than anything is to fall asleep and never wake up again
i never used to worry about reports because i always did well, but this year i got my first ever ever ever D, together with a couple of Cs, a few Bs and a couple of As. when i opened it i wasn't even shocked, i knew it was coming anyway.
my mum's going to want to know what's happening to me, and my dad'll probably shout at me about how much he pays for my schooling and how i'm not worth it.
i can't be bothered anymore. i'm going to stop trying all together, i'll just do what's necessary to get by and waste what was my potential.
i just don't have the energy to do anything anymore. sometimes i'll say something and not recognise my voice because i haven't spoken for so long. i don't like chatting to people; it makes me feel tired and like i just want to curl up in a ball and fall asleep.
i love sleep.
i hate waking up.
right now i feel like clearing my desk and putting my head down for a long sleep.
but what i want more than anything is to fall asleep and never wake up again
Monday 5 July 2004
i'll have another martini please
i think i've finally lost it.
'joe' was home for another long weekend, and he left again last night. he never wants to do anything with me on evenings anymore: never wants to go out and meet our friends for a drink; never wants to call round at my sisters or round at our friends spender and sara’s; he never wants to just go for a long drive at night down to the coast or belt it down the motorway for a laugh; he won't even go to the pictures like we used to every fucking week.
he'd rather we just bought some drink from the shop and sat in watching telly or rent a film from blockbusters.
whenever i ask him about it he says he just feels old. i'm scared to ask him what he means by that though.
we found something out this weekend that kind of put things in perspective for us. we were in the car on the way to newcastle and to make conversation i asked him what his mum's last name was. he said it was pace and straight away i thought of a boy i knew called david when i was in junior school.
he was a year older than me and we used to be quite good friends, laughing and joking and being sarcastic about everything, thinking we were superior to everyone else. i might have only been 10 or 11 or so but i saw him as a really interesting, sort of mysterious person.
when i told 'joe' i knew him he said he was just a little kid. but he's a year older than me. and i told him i knew christie too, david's little sister, who was about 2 years younger than me and he went silent. he thinks of her as a child and yet she's only 2 years younger than i am.
i get so confused about age when i'm with him.
we're sitting in 'apartment' in newcastle drinking cranberry and vodka and jd and he looks me straight in the eye and says he feels old. i look back and take my first ever sip on a martini. there's nothing i can say.
i feel so helpless.
how does he want me to act? i've tried being 15 and he tells me to grow up, i've tried being 18 and tells me to stop copying sara, and there i am, 21, wearing a pastel sun dress, kitten heels, painted nails, perfect makeup and my hair tied back in a sophisticated bun, cigarette in my left hand, sipping on a fucking martini and that still isn't good enough.
i want to scream at him that i feel old too: decrepit. every second i spend with him is another wrinkle forming on my face. he doesn't know how exhausting it is keeping him happy, or how mind-fucking-numbingly tiresome it is listening to his shit for the entire 2 days of the week i'm supposed to be having a break.
but i blink softly, i smile, i gently sit my glass back on the table, just like a 21 year old might. i don't scream, i don't tell him anything. i just smile and put my hand on his.
when i got home i took the dog for a walk by myself, and i smoked 6 cigarettes one after the other. i got the buzz from just the first one, but that wasn't enough to screen out what i was thinking of.
by number 5 i was sitting under a tree about a mile away from my house crying my heart out. i was wailing like an animal; i've never heard myself make those noises before. i'd never felt so desperate in my whole entire life.
the one person in the whole world who i derive the tiniest amount of pleaure being with feels miserable around me. i don't really know what to say about that.
if i could just tell someone something: tell them i want to rip my skin off and fly away like a butterfly; tell them the awful things i've done to the people i love so much.
if i could just tell them how lost i am and how hard i'm trying to find an identity that fits; that i don't even know who i am anymore. it's been so long since i've been comfortable with myself that i can't even remember how that was.
i was sick all of yesterday. i felt nauseus from the second i woke up, and i'm off school today. there's not even food coming up, just bile. maybe if i'm sick enough the lining of my stomach will eventually come up and the rest of my organs until i turn myself inside out.
and they'll all be expecting me at school. you see, they don't notice me until i'm not there, and then they accuse me of being lazy and unorganized.
christ, if they only knew.
'joe' was home for another long weekend, and he left again last night. he never wants to do anything with me on evenings anymore: never wants to go out and meet our friends for a drink; never wants to call round at my sisters or round at our friends spender and sara’s; he never wants to just go for a long drive at night down to the coast or belt it down the motorway for a laugh; he won't even go to the pictures like we used to every fucking week.
he'd rather we just bought some drink from the shop and sat in watching telly or rent a film from blockbusters.
whenever i ask him about it he says he just feels old. i'm scared to ask him what he means by that though.
we found something out this weekend that kind of put things in perspective for us. we were in the car on the way to newcastle and to make conversation i asked him what his mum's last name was. he said it was pace and straight away i thought of a boy i knew called david when i was in junior school.
he was a year older than me and we used to be quite good friends, laughing and joking and being sarcastic about everything, thinking we were superior to everyone else. i might have only been 10 or 11 or so but i saw him as a really interesting, sort of mysterious person.
when i told 'joe' i knew him he said he was just a little kid. but he's a year older than me. and i told him i knew christie too, david's little sister, who was about 2 years younger than me and he went silent. he thinks of her as a child and yet she's only 2 years younger than i am.
i get so confused about age when i'm with him.
we're sitting in 'apartment' in newcastle drinking cranberry and vodka and jd and he looks me straight in the eye and says he feels old. i look back and take my first ever sip on a martini. there's nothing i can say.
i feel so helpless.
how does he want me to act? i've tried being 15 and he tells me to grow up, i've tried being 18 and tells me to stop copying sara, and there i am, 21, wearing a pastel sun dress, kitten heels, painted nails, perfect makeup and my hair tied back in a sophisticated bun, cigarette in my left hand, sipping on a fucking martini and that still isn't good enough.
i want to scream at him that i feel old too: decrepit. every second i spend with him is another wrinkle forming on my face. he doesn't know how exhausting it is keeping him happy, or how mind-fucking-numbingly tiresome it is listening to his shit for the entire 2 days of the week i'm supposed to be having a break.
but i blink softly, i smile, i gently sit my glass back on the table, just like a 21 year old might. i don't scream, i don't tell him anything. i just smile and put my hand on his.
when i got home i took the dog for a walk by myself, and i smoked 6 cigarettes one after the other. i got the buzz from just the first one, but that wasn't enough to screen out what i was thinking of.
by number 5 i was sitting under a tree about a mile away from my house crying my heart out. i was wailing like an animal; i've never heard myself make those noises before. i'd never felt so desperate in my whole entire life.
the one person in the whole world who i derive the tiniest amount of pleaure being with feels miserable around me. i don't really know what to say about that.
if i could just tell someone something: tell them i want to rip my skin off and fly away like a butterfly; tell them the awful things i've done to the people i love so much.
if i could just tell them how lost i am and how hard i'm trying to find an identity that fits; that i don't even know who i am anymore. it's been so long since i've been comfortable with myself that i can't even remember how that was.
i was sick all of yesterday. i felt nauseus from the second i woke up, and i'm off school today. there's not even food coming up, just bile. maybe if i'm sick enough the lining of my stomach will eventually come up and the rest of my organs until i turn myself inside out.
and they'll all be expecting me at school. you see, they don't notice me until i'm not there, and then they accuse me of being lazy and unorganized.
christ, if they only knew.
Friday 2 July 2004
remorse
'tis me in the suite next door to the schroder suite that doesn't have a name because it doesn't have fancy computers. i hate writing on these keyboards cos all i can hear when i'm thinking of what to write is tap tap tap tap tap tap.
anyway.
i didn't dream about those bugs last night, instead i had this strange dream about beau again. in the dream we were having an affair, like before, and i'm lying to his girlfriend who i'm really good friends with. it was like beau and 'joe' were really good friends, and me and beau's girlfriend monique were really good friends, and we all used to hang out together, and me and beau were going behind monique and 'joe's' backs.
it was confusing.
it felt strange going behind 'joe's' back in the dream. with jordan it didn't count, because we had an understanding; we were allowed to spend time with other people.
in the dream me and beau did so much deceiving and hurting. i think it's better to feel guilty, if you don't that just proves you have no remorse for anything whatsoever.
why do i feel remorse now though when i haven't done anything to hurt anyone?
anyway.
i didn't dream about those bugs last night, instead i had this strange dream about beau again. in the dream we were having an affair, like before, and i'm lying to his girlfriend who i'm really good friends with. it was like beau and 'joe' were really good friends, and me and beau's girlfriend monique were really good friends, and we all used to hang out together, and me and beau were going behind monique and 'joe's' backs.
it was confusing.
it felt strange going behind 'joe's' back in the dream. with jordan it didn't count, because we had an understanding; we were allowed to spend time with other people.
in the dream me and beau did so much deceiving and hurting. i think it's better to feel guilty, if you don't that just proves you have no remorse for anything whatsoever.
why do i feel remorse now though when i haven't done anything to hurt anyone?
Thursday 1 July 2004
bugs 3
in my free in the schroder suite. i'm so stressed about my maths coursework; everyone else seems to have found the general formula and i haven't a clue what i'm doing. nothing seems to fit.
aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!
so i might as well sit here and write this since i'm so crap at everything else.
sometimes i wonder how i'd be doing at school if i hadn't moved here. as fancy and well-equipped this place is it can't make me shit A*s. moving here was supposed to simply reinforce the guarantee that i'd do amazingly well in my gcse years. but what the fuck's happened to me?
i used to get straight As and be picked for all the gifted and talented activities and be awarded and commended in awards evenings and assemblies. now i'm at the bottom of the pile of achievers.
i think it's a motivation thing. i used to do so well because i liked being the best and having everyone look up to me and having the reputation from the teachers as being an 'all-rounder'. i was popular too, like really popular, like one of the most popular people in my year. i was going out with the year's most eligible, sought after boy. there wasn't a thing i wasn't remotely good at (apart from woodwork and that infamous C).
then september came and everything fell apart. i didn't have the same motivation as i did at my old school because none of my teachers or classmates knew my potential. so i stopped filling my full potential until it became mediocre. i've stopped aiming higher. what's the point when no-one expects me to anymore?
ahhhhhh....
i feel better now.
i dreamt about those fucking bugs again. cockroaches, earwigs, worms, beetles. they were everywhere this time, filling the boat and falling over into the river flowing with them. and i try to tell 'joe' but he thinks i'm crazy and tells me to sit down or else the boat will tip over, but what does it matter if it did, we're already swimming in bugs.
aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!
so i might as well sit here and write this since i'm so crap at everything else.
sometimes i wonder how i'd be doing at school if i hadn't moved here. as fancy and well-equipped this place is it can't make me shit A*s. moving here was supposed to simply reinforce the guarantee that i'd do amazingly well in my gcse years. but what the fuck's happened to me?
i used to get straight As and be picked for all the gifted and talented activities and be awarded and commended in awards evenings and assemblies. now i'm at the bottom of the pile of achievers.
i think it's a motivation thing. i used to do so well because i liked being the best and having everyone look up to me and having the reputation from the teachers as being an 'all-rounder'. i was popular too, like really popular, like one of the most popular people in my year. i was going out with the year's most eligible, sought after boy. there wasn't a thing i wasn't remotely good at (apart from woodwork and that infamous C).
then september came and everything fell apart. i didn't have the same motivation as i did at my old school because none of my teachers or classmates knew my potential. so i stopped filling my full potential until it became mediocre. i've stopped aiming higher. what's the point when no-one expects me to anymore?
ahhhhhh....
i feel better now.
i dreamt about those fucking bugs again. cockroaches, earwigs, worms, beetles. they were everywhere this time, filling the boat and falling over into the river flowing with them. and i try to tell 'joe' but he thinks i'm crazy and tells me to sit down or else the boat will tip over, but what does it matter if it did, we're already swimming in bugs.
Wednesday 30 June 2004
euphoria
when i first starting going out with my sister last summer i had this firm belief that smoking was wrong and since almost everyone in a pub seems to smoke i felt like an original person for being the only one to practice this belief. when my sister would offer me a cigarette i'd recline and think to myself 'she only wants me to take it from her so i'll fall into the same abyss she did when she was younger', probably 11 or so.
i kept thinking this for a surprisingly long time, and when jordan started smoking in autumn i'd criticise him for it, and even when i met 'joe' over new year i encouraged him to quit (and he did for about 2 months). i think back and feel guilt for trying to deny them such a harmless pleasure.
i love lying in bed at night with my window wide open, lighting up a cigarette, watching my exhaled smoke transform into fascinating figures against the navy blueness of the sky.
i love lighting up first thing in the morning with the crystals dangling from my windows creating unique rainbows on my walls; inhaling smoke and keeping it there, as though if i force my lungs to hold as much toxic shit as possible they'll pack in and i won't have to go to school.
that cigarette is what makes the day seem not so bad.
it feels as though the rush i get from every cigarette is mine and mine only. my own private pleasure. it's delicious; it turns my mind into a whirlwind of warm breezes and smiles and the feeling that everything's fine for the next 3 or so minutes.
it's euphoric.
it's noxious; even better.
i kept thinking this for a surprisingly long time, and when jordan started smoking in autumn i'd criticise him for it, and even when i met 'joe' over new year i encouraged him to quit (and he did for about 2 months). i think back and feel guilt for trying to deny them such a harmless pleasure.
i love lying in bed at night with my window wide open, lighting up a cigarette, watching my exhaled smoke transform into fascinating figures against the navy blueness of the sky.
i love lighting up first thing in the morning with the crystals dangling from my windows creating unique rainbows on my walls; inhaling smoke and keeping it there, as though if i force my lungs to hold as much toxic shit as possible they'll pack in and i won't have to go to school.
that cigarette is what makes the day seem not so bad.
it feels as though the rush i get from every cigarette is mine and mine only. my own private pleasure. it's delicious; it turns my mind into a whirlwind of warm breezes and smiles and the feeling that everything's fine for the next 3 or so minutes.
it's euphoric.
it's noxious; even better.
bugs 2
in the schroder suite once again, typing up my french coursework. it's funny cos i'm writing about a barbecue my sister and her fiance are organising, but they've split up, so the whole piece is meaningless really. having said that they'll probably get back together by the time i have to hand it in, they always get back together in the end.
i dreamt about the bugs again last night only this time there were more, thousands more, filling our little rowing boat and flowing over its sides into the river. when i scream at 'joe' to tell him he acts as though he can't hear me and tells me to calm down as though i'm acting crazy for no reason. but maybe i just am crazy.
never mind.
i've only written 91 words so far for my french. i can't think of much else to say; it's my family after all, what else is there to say?
oh well.
i'm frustrating myself so i'm going to leave this like it is.
i dreamt about the bugs again last night only this time there were more, thousands more, filling our little rowing boat and flowing over its sides into the river. when i scream at 'joe' to tell him he acts as though he can't hear me and tells me to calm down as though i'm acting crazy for no reason. but maybe i just am crazy.
never mind.
i've only written 91 words so far for my french. i can't think of much else to say; it's my family after all, what else is there to say?
oh well.
i'm frustrating myself so i'm going to leave this like it is.
Tuesday 29 June 2004
bugs
in the schroder suite once again. i've been in town all morning on a geography trip related to our coursework, and the only lesson i've got after this double free is a single of physics, looking over our exam paper (which i did shit in).
i feel a lot better today. when i smile it's because i'm happy, not because i think that it's the right time to pull my lips apart. i can still feel my skin stretching in protest though.
it's weird, when i was in town this morning, some people got their cigarettes out and started smoking. without even thinking it through i instinctively asked to borrow one until i bought some from the shop later on. and it struck me, I'M A SMOKER !
yeah, ok, i've been smoking at home through my window a lot lately but i just thought of that as a desperate cry for tranquillity. but today i smoked because i just wanted to. hmmmm.
anyway.
school finishes next thursday, and it amazes me every time i look back on the year. where did all the time go? i suppose a lot of it was wasted on being with jordan, getting over jordan and hating jordan, and that time seemed to last forever, but ever since i met anthony time has slowed down. it's giving me a chance to savour every moment we spend together, i suppose there are so few after all.
i can't wait for some time alone to focus on pulling myself together again. maybe i'll start writing again, or start reading more like i used to.
i had another strange dream last night. i dreamt that 'joe' and i were on a river in a rowing boat together, all peaceful and romantic, him rowing, me reading, ducks swimming...
i turned around to ask 'joe' a question, and saw bugs crawling all over his face. they were pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his ears. i tried to tell him by screaming at him but he said he couldn't see anything. i saw them on me too, crawling all over my hands, my arms, my chest and over my face. but he couldn't see anything at all.
i think i really am cracking up.
i feel a lot better today. when i smile it's because i'm happy, not because i think that it's the right time to pull my lips apart. i can still feel my skin stretching in protest though.
it's weird, when i was in town this morning, some people got their cigarettes out and started smoking. without even thinking it through i instinctively asked to borrow one until i bought some from the shop later on. and it struck me, I'M A SMOKER !
yeah, ok, i've been smoking at home through my window a lot lately but i just thought of that as a desperate cry for tranquillity. but today i smoked because i just wanted to. hmmmm.
anyway.
school finishes next thursday, and it amazes me every time i look back on the year. where did all the time go? i suppose a lot of it was wasted on being with jordan, getting over jordan and hating jordan, and that time seemed to last forever, but ever since i met anthony time has slowed down. it's giving me a chance to savour every moment we spend together, i suppose there are so few after all.
i can't wait for some time alone to focus on pulling myself together again. maybe i'll start writing again, or start reading more like i used to.
i had another strange dream last night. i dreamt that 'joe' and i were on a river in a rowing boat together, all peaceful and romantic, him rowing, me reading, ducks swimming...
i turned around to ask 'joe' a question, and saw bugs crawling all over his face. they were pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his ears. i tried to tell him by screaming at him but he said he couldn't see anything. i saw them on me too, crawling all over my hands, my arms, my chest and over my face. but he couldn't see anything at all.
i think i really am cracking up.
bugs
in the schroder suite once again. i've been in town all morning on a geography trip related to our coursework, and the only lesson i've got after this double free is a single of physics, looking over our exam paper (which i did shit in).
i feel a lot better today. when i smile it's because i'm happy, not because i think that it's the right time to pull my lips apart. i can still feel my skin stretching in protest though.
it's weird, when i was in town this morning, some people got their cigarettes out and started smoking. without even thinking it through i instinctively asked to borrow one until i bought some from the shop later on. and it struck me, I'M A SMOKER !
yeah, ok, i've been smoking at home through my window a lot lately but i just thought of that as a desperate cry for tranquillity. but today i smoked because i just wanted to. hmmmm.
anyway.
school finishes next thursday, and it amazes me every time i look back on the year. where did all the time go? i suppose a lot of it was wasted on being with jordan, getting over jordan and hating jordan, and that time seemed to last forever, but ever since i met anthony time has slowed down. it's giving me a chance to savour every moment we spend together, i suppose there are so few after all.
i can't wait for some time alone to focus on pulling myself together again. maybe i'll start writing again, or start reading more like i used to.
i had another strange dream last night. i dreamt that 'joe' and i were on a river in a rowing boat together, all peaceful and romantic, him rowing, me reading, ducks swimming...
i turned around to ask 'joe' a question, and saw bugs crawling all over his face. they were pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his ears. i tried to tell him by screaming at him but he said he couldn't see anything. i saw them on me too, crawling all over my hands, my arms, my chest and over my face. but he couldn't see anything at all.
i think i really am cracking up.
i feel a lot better today. when i smile it's because i'm happy, not because i think that it's the right time to pull my lips apart. i can still feel my skin stretching in protest though.
it's weird, when i was in town this morning, some people got their cigarettes out and started smoking. without even thinking it through i instinctively asked to borrow one until i bought some from the shop later on. and it struck me, I'M A SMOKER !
yeah, ok, i've been smoking at home through my window a lot lately but i just thought of that as a desperate cry for tranquillity. but today i smoked because i just wanted to. hmmmm.
anyway.
school finishes next thursday, and it amazes me every time i look back on the year. where did all the time go? i suppose a lot of it was wasted on being with jordan, getting over jordan and hating jordan, and that time seemed to last forever, but ever since i met anthony time has slowed down. it's giving me a chance to savour every moment we spend together, i suppose there are so few after all.
i can't wait for some time alone to focus on pulling myself together again. maybe i'll start writing again, or start reading more like i used to.
i had another strange dream last night. i dreamt that 'joe' and i were on a river in a rowing boat together, all peaceful and romantic, him rowing, me reading, ducks swimming...
i turned around to ask 'joe' a question, and saw bugs crawling all over his face. they were pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his ears. i tried to tell him by screaming at him but he said he couldn't see anything. i saw them on me too, crawling all over my hands, my arms, my chest and over my face. but he couldn't see anything at all.
i think i really am cracking up.
Monday 28 June 2004
perfection
this weekend was the monumental, pivotal point in the break down of my worthless life.
my perfume bottle smashed on thursday night, when i was so ready to do something i wish i had the emotion to regret. i didn't though, until i was pushed as far as i thought i could be pushed on friday evening.
my dad thinks my miserable face is what's making our family fall apart, it's all my fault you see, obviously.
my sister's so far stuck up her own ass to even recognise the fact that i still exist, well, sort of.
my mum, well, my mum hasn't been the same since she realised i was too old for her to plait my hair and take me on journeys to the park in autumn to collect leaves and stick them on a collage for her to keep forever. even if she thought i was depressed she couldn't say anything because that would mean she recognised the fact that i was my own person and not just another chance for her to relive her life and correct the mistakes she made when she was younger.
'joe', who i hate for loving me so much. i've become totally dependent upon his presence as a pillar to stop me from falling. but for five days of the week i'm left witout anyone to lean on, and i always end up falling, so many times. he doesn't understand this though. he doesn't understand anything.
everything sort of jumped on me at once and tried to strangle me with invisible hands. school, friends, family, sex, love... and loneliness.
how coincidental that after i had been picked up 2 hours late with 30 minutes to get ready for a party, alone in my house with a sharp, alcohol tinged shard of perfect glass, i got that suffocating feeling of total loneliness.
i sat on the floor of my shower with the water pouring down over my head, my vision blurred by water and tears, with that perfect, sharp shard of alcohol tinged glass in my hand.
nothing seemed to have ever made more sense than that situation.
my perfume bottle smashed on thursday night, when i was so ready to do something i wish i had the emotion to regret. i didn't though, until i was pushed as far as i thought i could be pushed on friday evening.
my dad thinks my miserable face is what's making our family fall apart, it's all my fault you see, obviously.
my sister's so far stuck up her own ass to even recognise the fact that i still exist, well, sort of.
my mum, well, my mum hasn't been the same since she realised i was too old for her to plait my hair and take me on journeys to the park in autumn to collect leaves and stick them on a collage for her to keep forever. even if she thought i was depressed she couldn't say anything because that would mean she recognised the fact that i was my own person and not just another chance for her to relive her life and correct the mistakes she made when she was younger.
'joe', who i hate for loving me so much. i've become totally dependent upon his presence as a pillar to stop me from falling. but for five days of the week i'm left witout anyone to lean on, and i always end up falling, so many times. he doesn't understand this though. he doesn't understand anything.
everything sort of jumped on me at once and tried to strangle me with invisible hands. school, friends, family, sex, love... and loneliness.
how coincidental that after i had been picked up 2 hours late with 30 minutes to get ready for a party, alone in my house with a sharp, alcohol tinged shard of perfect glass, i got that suffocating feeling of total loneliness.
i sat on the floor of my shower with the water pouring down over my head, my vision blurred by water and tears, with that perfect, sharp shard of alcohol tinged glass in my hand.
nothing seemed to have ever made more sense than that situation.
Thursday 24 June 2004
fools
'tis me, in the schroder suite, in my free, again. i had athletics this morning, and i bravely competed for the high jump for Heath House. i'll not type the height i got though.
i also had to go to a big opening thing for the Hadrian suite, which is for dyslexics like the little girl i teach english to. i remember writing a while back that i'd love to teach children with learning disabilities when i'm older, or even teach english to foreign children living in poor conditions. the only good grades i got this year was for languages: french, german and i hope english although i haven't got the grade back yet.
anyway, 'joe's' decided to come home again this weekend, probably because he doesn't want me going alone to this party tomorrow night. i'm glad he's coming home though. i love seeing his face when he gets off the train. he's definitely not a romantic, but i know he's glad to see me too when he says "y'alright shithead". it's his way of being romantic. trust me.
he's got literally no money this weekend so we probably won't do much. maybe we'll go back to that cornfield if the weather's nice enough.
my sister and her fiance have broken up, meaning she's back at our house again.
great.
i can't stand being in the same room with her anymore. everything she says seems to be applauded when i know that all she's really doing is regurgitating aload of shit she's heard from other people when she's been out on the piss. it's pure shite, not a single original word comes out of her mouth, but our parents love it. fools.
i also had to go to a big opening thing for the Hadrian suite, which is for dyslexics like the little girl i teach english to. i remember writing a while back that i'd love to teach children with learning disabilities when i'm older, or even teach english to foreign children living in poor conditions. the only good grades i got this year was for languages: french, german and i hope english although i haven't got the grade back yet.
anyway, 'joe's' decided to come home again this weekend, probably because he doesn't want me going alone to this party tomorrow night. i'm glad he's coming home though. i love seeing his face when he gets off the train. he's definitely not a romantic, but i know he's glad to see me too when he says "y'alright shithead". it's his way of being romantic. trust me.
he's got literally no money this weekend so we probably won't do much. maybe we'll go back to that cornfield if the weather's nice enough.
my sister and her fiance have broken up, meaning she's back at our house again.
great.
i can't stand being in the same room with her anymore. everything she says seems to be applauded when i know that all she's really doing is regurgitating aload of shit she's heard from other people when she's been out on the piss. it's pure shite, not a single original word comes out of her mouth, but our parents love it. fools.
Tuesday 22 June 2004
oh the fucking irony
Now I’ve just been kicked off the fucking computer by my fucking butch lesbian looking cunt of a geography teacher. Fuck her, I’m writing this in word and I’ll paste it in later.
Anyway, back to the entry. ‘Joe’ was home this weekend, which was really nice. He won’t be home for a fortnight now though so I’m really going to miss him. I’m missing him more and more every time he leaves me, it’s like Jordan all over. It’s alright for ‘Joe’, because he’s never the one being left behind, he’s always going back to something, whereas I always miss him and have to get on with my life without him again. It’s not fair.
That reminds me, I had a dream about Jordan last night, but I can't really remember what it was about, only that me and him had to meet up to sort out legal matters or something and neither of us wanted to see each other. He was like a ghost. I wish I could remember what we were saying to each other.
Oh well.
Anyway, exam week finished last Tuesday and now we're starting to get all our results back. I remember before I moved school the worst grade I ever got was a C in Woodwork, and I alomst had a fit over it. Most of my grades will be Cs this year I think. But shit happens.
There's a party this weekend, and I told everyone about how I bought a whole outfit for £20, and jesus christ some of the looks I got. Someone even pulled me over and said I wouldn't broadcast the fact if I was you. People here at this school have no idea how lucky they are.
I'm so different to them because they've all been brought up in a way so totally different to the way I was. I can honestly say that I don't feel I belong to a single one of the many groups my year group consists of. No matter how different to each other all their little groups are, not one of them I feel comfortable in.
I've been here for a year, and still I have no really close friends here. They're all just strangers I know bits and pieces about and who know bits and pieces about me. It's exhausting coming here every day and slapping on a smile when all I want to do is cry and go back to bed. And now I know there's no point at all in me being here because I'm doing worse than I was in my old school. HOW FUCKING IRONIC.
Anyway, back to the entry. ‘Joe’ was home this weekend, which was really nice. He won’t be home for a fortnight now though so I’m really going to miss him. I’m missing him more and more every time he leaves me, it’s like Jordan all over. It’s alright for ‘Joe’, because he’s never the one being left behind, he’s always going back to something, whereas I always miss him and have to get on with my life without him again. It’s not fair.
That reminds me, I had a dream about Jordan last night, but I can't really remember what it was about, only that me and him had to meet up to sort out legal matters or something and neither of us wanted to see each other. He was like a ghost. I wish I could remember what we were saying to each other.
Oh well.
Anyway, exam week finished last Tuesday and now we're starting to get all our results back. I remember before I moved school the worst grade I ever got was a C in Woodwork, and I alomst had a fit over it. Most of my grades will be Cs this year I think. But shit happens.
There's a party this weekend, and I told everyone about how I bought a whole outfit for £20, and jesus christ some of the looks I got. Someone even pulled me over and said I wouldn't broadcast the fact if I was you. People here at this school have no idea how lucky they are.
I'm so different to them because they've all been brought up in a way so totally different to the way I was. I can honestly say that I don't feel I belong to a single one of the many groups my year group consists of. No matter how different to each other all their little groups are, not one of them I feel comfortable in.
I've been here for a year, and still I have no really close friends here. They're all just strangers I know bits and pieces about and who know bits and pieces about me. It's exhausting coming here every day and slapping on a smile when all I want to do is cry and go back to bed. And now I know there's no point at all in me being here because I'm doing worse than I was in my old school. HOW FUCKING IRONIC.
Tuesday 15 June 2004
genocide
i had such a disturbing dream last night, and i'd give anything to learn what it means.
i dreamt that i had two older brothers, and the country was divided into two religions, and a sort of civil war was happening. me and one of my brothers were part of the religion everyone saw as good, and our older brother was the leader of the other religion, the religion everyone saw as bad. our family was seen as royalty in our country, and the people who followed the 'good' religion followed us as our parents had been killed by our older brother.
we told them to kneel down and pray in the street when our older brother sent a flood of water towards our city, and we were saved, but then he appeared, while we were all praying on our knees and he said this could all end if me and my brother were to worship him.
my brother and i said we would never worship an evil god, and our older brother told us we would have to or else he would kill our entire race.
so i sacrificed myself for my race. i stopped genocide.
i woke up feeling so powerful.
i dreamt that i had two older brothers, and the country was divided into two religions, and a sort of civil war was happening. me and one of my brothers were part of the religion everyone saw as good, and our older brother was the leader of the other religion, the religion everyone saw as bad. our family was seen as royalty in our country, and the people who followed the 'good' religion followed us as our parents had been killed by our older brother.
we told them to kneel down and pray in the street when our older brother sent a flood of water towards our city, and we were saved, but then he appeared, while we were all praying on our knees and he said this could all end if me and my brother were to worship him.
my brother and i said we would never worship an evil god, and our older brother told us we would have to or else he would kill our entire race.
so i sacrificed myself for my race. i stopped genocide.
i woke up feeling so powerful.
Monday 14 June 2004
cornflower blue
just had one exam this morning, maths 2, which went really not well.
me and 'joe' had a really good weekend. we spent a lot of time with my sister and her fiance at their new house, and 'joe' helped solve some of their electrical problems. the more i watched my sister and her finace together, the more i realised how lucky i actually am. her husband to be compared to my boyfriend is a 10 year old.
'joe' is so much more mature than any boyfriend i've ever had, or nearly had, or thought about having. and he cares about me more than any boyfriend i've ever had, nearly had, or thought about having. he's the perfect boyfriend. perhaps his only fault is that for 5 days a week he lives at the opposite end of the country.
he's got my dad's car now, and on sunday morning he woke me up at about 6 and told me we were going somewhere. we ended up in a nearby corn field about a mile away (ironically behind jordan's street). he'd brought a blanket and we just lay there for ages, looking up at the sky. i get so scared that he loves me too much. i never wanted another serious relationship until i was older, but i can just see where this is going. and i know i can't do anything about it.
i don't love him the same way as he loves me. i love him carefully, and in controlled doses, making sure he doesn't grab my heart and never give it back. i'm falling though. everytime i open my eyes he seems to be there, looking straight back as though he's been waiting an eternity for me to wake up.
sometimes i wish i could see how things would be in a year if we carried on the way we are now. i wish that didn't terrify me.
i don't know why i blame him for everything; why i feel so lonely, why i've lost my determination, why i want to finally go to sleep and never wake up again. it's not his fault at all, he's just unfortunate enough to have to go through it with me.
i know that without him i'd crumble again, which is very very bad. that's what happened last time. jordan was the hand holding me up, and when he let go i crumbled. how do i know 'joe' won't let go too?
i'm such a burden though.
me and 'joe' had a really good weekend. we spent a lot of time with my sister and her fiance at their new house, and 'joe' helped solve some of their electrical problems. the more i watched my sister and her finace together, the more i realised how lucky i actually am. her husband to be compared to my boyfriend is a 10 year old.
'joe' is so much more mature than any boyfriend i've ever had, or nearly had, or thought about having. and he cares about me more than any boyfriend i've ever had, nearly had, or thought about having. he's the perfect boyfriend. perhaps his only fault is that for 5 days a week he lives at the opposite end of the country.
he's got my dad's car now, and on sunday morning he woke me up at about 6 and told me we were going somewhere. we ended up in a nearby corn field about a mile away (ironically behind jordan's street). he'd brought a blanket and we just lay there for ages, looking up at the sky. i get so scared that he loves me too much. i never wanted another serious relationship until i was older, but i can just see where this is going. and i know i can't do anything about it.
i don't love him the same way as he loves me. i love him carefully, and in controlled doses, making sure he doesn't grab my heart and never give it back. i'm falling though. everytime i open my eyes he seems to be there, looking straight back as though he's been waiting an eternity for me to wake up.
sometimes i wish i could see how things would be in a year if we carried on the way we are now. i wish that didn't terrify me.
i don't know why i blame him for everything; why i feel so lonely, why i've lost my determination, why i want to finally go to sleep and never wake up again. it's not his fault at all, he's just unfortunate enough to have to go through it with me.
i know that without him i'd crumble again, which is very very bad. that's what happened last time. jordan was the hand holding me up, and when he let go i crumbled. how do i know 'joe' won't let go too?
i'm such a burden though.
Thursday 10 June 2004
facing the facts
i'm in the room next door to the schroder suite cos that's booked for a lesson. just did my history and i'm sure i passed with flying colours. i had chemistry first thing which i'm sure i did badly in and french comprehension after that which was ok. me and 'joe' are back on. i suppose i felt guilty since it was his birthday. i still feel exactly the same way about him though, like he is the reason i feel so lonely.
my parents are giving him a car for his birthday, can you believe that? jesus christ, they like him more than me. maybe they're just giving him it so he'll drive away and never come back. he's home tomorrow though, so i'll have to face him and sort things out properly.
perhaps our relationship really is just based on sex.
my parents are giving him a car for his birthday, can you believe that? jesus christ, they like him more than me. maybe they're just giving him it so he'll drive away and never come back. he's home tomorrow though, so i'll have to face him and sort things out properly.
perhaps our relationship really is just based on sex.
Tuesday 8 June 2004
merciless me
i had my geography exam first thing and i've just finished my french orals. i did ok, and my pervy french teacher let me read out what was written on my card so it's been a good morning.
it's 'joe's' birthday today. last night i told him i never wanted to speak to him or see him ever again. i told him about everything i've been feeling lately; that i'm lonely and it's all his fault.
i made him cry. paratrooper brown cried because i broke up with him. perhaps i am an evil, deceitful whore.
it hurt me so much, hearing him cry. listening to our conversation i realised that he was saying all the things i said to jordan when he told me it was over. 'i'm begging you', 'i'll do anything', 'i can change, i promise i'll change'. it made me feel sick. have i turned into him? cruel, merciless, vindictive, malevolent and totally remorseless.
perhaps it's not 'joe' i hate so much, maybe it's me.
it's 'joe's' birthday today. last night i told him i never wanted to speak to him or see him ever again. i told him about everything i've been feeling lately; that i'm lonely and it's all his fault.
i made him cry. paratrooper brown cried because i broke up with him. perhaps i am an evil, deceitful whore.
it hurt me so much, hearing him cry. listening to our conversation i realised that he was saying all the things i said to jordan when he told me it was over. 'i'm begging you', 'i'll do anything', 'i can change, i promise i'll change'. it made me feel sick. have i turned into him? cruel, merciless, vindictive, malevolent and totally remorseless.
perhaps it's not 'joe' i hate so much, maybe it's me.
Monday 7 June 2004
i love pessimism
'tis me again, in the schroder suite. i've just finished my maths exam and think i did really sucky.
i should be going into town now but it turns out my mother never signed a permission slip allowing me to leave the school whenever i didn't have exams.
we're so distanced now it's unbelievable. i hardly talk to her, and apart from our 20 minute trip to school in the morning i never spend time with her. i've grown to dislike my parents. in a serious way, not just a 'i hate her she wouldn't buy me those jeans' way. when my sister moved out about a year ago they both swore they would never give her any financial help unless she wanted to come back home. but that's funny, because they've just had to remortgage our house to buy her three-bedroomed semi.
they're mad, they really really are. and because they're in all this debt, they can't afford to buy me a new pair of shoes after the old ones have holes in the soles. it's ridiculous.
i heard them talking about me last night, saying i was losing track of what was important (meaning my schoolwork) and that 'joe' was getting in the way of me going forward and achieving. first off how the fuck would they know anything about my schoolwork? they couldn't be arsed to go to the Parents Evening. i don't tell them anything about my work so how would they have any idea how up to scratch it is? and it is pretty up to date at the moment.
it worries me that they feel this way about 'joe'. what lengths would they go to to get rid of him? apart from 'joe', i feel completely alone in the world. because of him, i don't have any other male 'contacts', my durham friends live 30 miles away and my old friends have excluded me from their movie days and their private jokes and their trips to newcastle. i'm all alone and it's all his fault, but if my parents then got rid of him, i'd have no one.
i don't make a difference to anyone's life. what's the point in me being here?
this isn't a suicidal rant but i just feel totally useless all the time.
what's the point in being alive if you're me?
i should be going into town now but it turns out my mother never signed a permission slip allowing me to leave the school whenever i didn't have exams.
we're so distanced now it's unbelievable. i hardly talk to her, and apart from our 20 minute trip to school in the morning i never spend time with her. i've grown to dislike my parents. in a serious way, not just a 'i hate her she wouldn't buy me those jeans' way. when my sister moved out about a year ago they both swore they would never give her any financial help unless she wanted to come back home. but that's funny, because they've just had to remortgage our house to buy her three-bedroomed semi.
they're mad, they really really are. and because they're in all this debt, they can't afford to buy me a new pair of shoes after the old ones have holes in the soles. it's ridiculous.
i heard them talking about me last night, saying i was losing track of what was important (meaning my schoolwork) and that 'joe' was getting in the way of me going forward and achieving. first off how the fuck would they know anything about my schoolwork? they couldn't be arsed to go to the Parents Evening. i don't tell them anything about my work so how would they have any idea how up to scratch it is? and it is pretty up to date at the moment.
it worries me that they feel this way about 'joe'. what lengths would they go to to get rid of him? apart from 'joe', i feel completely alone in the world. because of him, i don't have any other male 'contacts', my durham friends live 30 miles away and my old friends have excluded me from their movie days and their private jokes and their trips to newcastle. i'm all alone and it's all his fault, but if my parents then got rid of him, i'd have no one.
i don't make a difference to anyone's life. what's the point in me being here?
this isn't a suicidal rant but i just feel totally useless all the time.
what's the point in being alive if you're me?
Saturday 5 June 2004
my good friend mr antiobiotics
i am officially a smoker now. how hypocritical of me, after constantly harping on at two different people the effects of smoking on the heart, the lungs, the liver, shit just about everything really.
i don't really care anymore, come on cancer, you're invited to the party in my lungs. lately i've been finding myself searching for symptoms of any kind of illness i can think of. perhaps the painless bruises all over my body are the result of a rare blood disease, or the pains in my chest a side affect of the hole i was born with in my heart. the weird thing is, the more i search for these things, the more i find and the sicker i become. oh how i miss my good friend mr. antibiotics. i'm not on any at the moment, for the first time since christmas.
pain makes everything better. christ, i've never felt this lonely.
i don't really care anymore, come on cancer, you're invited to the party in my lungs. lately i've been finding myself searching for symptoms of any kind of illness i can think of. perhaps the painless bruises all over my body are the result of a rare blood disease, or the pains in my chest a side affect of the hole i was born with in my heart. the weird thing is, the more i search for these things, the more i find and the sicker i become. oh how i miss my good friend mr. antibiotics. i'm not on any at the moment, for the first time since christmas.
pain makes everything better. christ, i've never felt this lonely.
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