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.
Thursday, 9 September 2004
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)