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.
Wednesday 28 July 2004
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.
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