How does Nothing and Change go together so well?

So it's been
About 4 months
Since my last entry.

I guess,
In that time,
I just lost interest.

I do that a lot.
But what have I been doing
Instead?

Nothing, really.
But, I am
Getting a little better.

Not so angry, sad,
Just nothing.
I don't feel much.

I read, in Buddhism,
That they believe,
Life is full of suffering.

And any happiness
is fleeting.
I can relate.

It's funny how words
Develop double meanings.
When someone says something,

The other meaning
Is what first
Springs to mind.

"I cut my hand the other day."
Flinch.
Oh. Right.

"This book's character kills himself."
Flinch.
Oh. Right.

"I need to buy more knives."
Flinch.
Oh. Right.

"I got that scar when I was 5."
Flinch.
Oh. Right.

Some words,
Ring alarm bells.
I wonder,

Will I ever be able
To hear them again,
Without associating them

With what I do now?
It's a change of perception,
In a way.

There's been a lot
Of changes.
My arms, and legs, and hands

Have all been changed.
For good.
Darker skin marks what I've done.

My thoughts, my opinions,
My knowledge on various topics
Have all been changed.

And these are the kinds of changes
You can't undo,
Or change over so they're different.

Love from, Me.
xx

If the worst was to happen, it would be my fault.

And so I was wondering.
What if she did.
Like, did it.


Killed herself.
My best friend.
She writes about it.

But would she do it?
Would she have the guts
To end her life forever?

I'm not mocking her.
No guts for that
Would be a good thing.

It would almost kill me.
I swear we are
Psychologically connected.

I could not eat.
I could not sleep.
I would not go to school.

I bet.
Hypothetical, of course.
But still.

Would my mother
Understand?
Understand the fact

That I can't function
Properly?
Would she leave me alone?

Because I wouldn't want to talk.
If my best friend was killed
By accident

It would be bad
Enough.
If she did it on purpose

It would be so much
Worse.
Because I would know

That I could've done
Something - anything -
To stop it.

Because I knew
Her secrets.
Precious few do.

Most of them
Are overseas.
I see her everyday.

That makes it my fault
If she kills herself,
Because I would be the one

That knew.
And that should
Have done something.

But I hope
It will never come
To that.

I hope
So bad
That it won't.

Love from, Me.
xx

The Trials of My Perfect Sister's Life.

Bloody sister.
She's a fucking bitch.
Stupid comments.

I say something:
"No one cares."
"Shut up."

You shut up,
Bitch.
Slut.

No one fucking cares
About you.
Bitch.

That's a lie.
They do.
Everyone cares

About my goody-two-shoes
Whinging, ass-kissing,
Bitch of a sister.

Not about me.
She thinks she
Is so fucking hard-done-by.

False.
She has no idea
At what it's like to be angry,

To hurt, to feel pain
Like I do.
She lives the sheltered life

Of a favoured princess.
Gets what she wants.
Always defended.

I hurt myself.
An idea
She couldn't fathom,

Not even in her
Scariest nightmares.
Cause she doesn't have nightmares.

Not like me.
She has
Mildly disturbing dreams.

The life of a bitch;
The life of my sister,
Must be a pleasant one.

Her biggest problems
Are me calling her names
And her group of friends fighting.

Ouch. That must hurt,
An awful fucking lot,
Bitch.

Toughen the fuck up.
"This steak is chewy..."
Fucking, spoilt, princess child.

Quit your fucked up singing,
Shut your stupid mouth,
And toughen up, bitch.

Love from, Me.
xx

Memoirs From My Messed Up Mind

I made a mistake.
I looked at his Facebook.
And our formal pictures.

And I talked to him
On MSN.
So, a few mistakes.

Now I've backtracked.
I'm back in Depression.
I still want things back.

So I occupy myself
In other ways.
Youtube.

I look up videos
That some may consider
"Disturbing".

There's red.
And sharp stuff.
And beautiful images.

This just goes to show
How fucked up I am
In the head.

I think up
What I can do
To myself

When I've got my stuff.
I take pictures.
Save them to my computer.

I want to do it now.
But what I use
Isn't where I am now.

Fuck that.
I really,
Really want to.

Fuck that as well.
I'm fucking messed up.
Clearly.

I listen to depressing songs
And learn the lyrics.
I wanna be Dark. Reckless.

I want that red, though.
The beautiful carvings and inscriptions
Of words and phrases.

Not on paper.
Not in the sand.
On me.

On my arm,
My leg,
My shoulder.

Don't copy me.
Trust me,
You so don't want to be like this.

It's quite horrible,
Actually.
Lying, Concealing,

Doing it anyway.
Because I'm stupid,
And fucked up.

"Help" isn't working.
I'm only going
To keep mum happy.

Well, that makes one of us.
Better than
None of us.

"This is for you..."
"Love is blood ...and tears..."
Beautiful Inscriptions.

Love from, Me.
xx

What is This? I Don't Exactly Get It..

There's something
I can't exactly
Comprehend.

I'm feeling...
Better.
A little. Just a bit.

Not very much.
But a tiny, little,
Miniscule, bit.

I think
It's maybe cause
I'm starting to finally accept it.

The fact he doesn't want me.
The fact that great thing we had
Is over. For good.

I heard a song.
That song by P!nk -
Long Way To Happy.

It sounds depressing.
Maybe it is,
For those happier than me.

But for me,
I found it
Inspiring.

"It's gonna take a long time to love,
It's gonna take a lot to hold on,
It's gonna be a long way to happy..."

It made me realise something.
That maybe, just maybe,
There might be something at the end.

Something that might
Be worth
Living for.

I don't know, though.
I'm just guessing.
But maybe there is.

The fact that there is
A "long way" to happy,
Apparently,

Implies that
You can get there eventually.
But can I?

There are a few stages to grief.
I'm not sure of all of them,
But I know the first few.

Denial.
Anger.
Depression.

Acceptance.
I realise "losing" someone
You never really had

Isn't exactly grief,
But surely the same principle
Can apply?

Either way,
I think I'm finally starting to enter
The Acceptance stage.

How much better
Will it make me, though?
If at all?

I don't know.
But I do know,
Some people

Go back and forth
Between stages.
What to make of that?

Love from, Me.
xx

And this was Only One Afternoon of the Week.

It all started
When I couldn't find
My phone charger.

This loss succeeds
the loss
of my fucking camera charger.

So I look
And look
And look.

Finally I find it.
And my camera charger.
Together.

I go off
At everyone
For moving my stuff.

For fuck's sake,
It's no wonder I can't
Find anything,

If fucking people
Keep touching it
And moving it around!

So I yell at mum,
She lectures back,
And brings up my driving.

I'm fucking sick
Of her holding that
Over my head.

Then she brings in dad.
She says he never takes me.
I remind her of the obvious.

He's never fucking around.
I don't live with him, and
he always has to go out when I visit.

It uspets me.
It makes my eyes well with tears.
I get angry and make to escape.

I cry in my room.
I want to punch something.
But I try to do the right thing.

I ring up my counsellor.
I've been emailing her.
But her shift just finished.

I hang up.
I missed her. Again.
I feel so alone.

Cause now I have no one.
Everyone to talk to,
The whole one, is unavailable.

Mum comes in.
I hide, but she finds me. She says
She doesn't like seeing me upset.

Yeah, that so makes me
Feel better.
She says its not my fault.

My eyes are red.
My nose is stuffed.
And I'm so not okay.

Love from, Me.
xx

Bloody Friends. And Boys. And Cold.

I just feel
So down.
Especially today.

I hate
My life.
It fucking sucks.

My friend,
Was all like,
"I don't want so-and-so to know."

So you know what she does.
Naturally.
She tells so-and-so.

Who will almost definitely
Tell the other girl
That she didn't want to know.

Cause that's just what so-and-so does.
She's a gossip.
And a bit of a bitch.

My other friend
Found out the other day
About how I took those tablets that time.

I wish I hadn't told her.
I feel like I have nothing
To myself anymore. Almost.

That friend
Told me a secret.
Which changes lots.

Easily the rest of her life.
Possibly the rest of mine.
And others'. But I hope not mine.

And he doesn't like me.
Obviously.
Mum warned me the other night.

"Be aware, I've heard
He's a bit of a playa.
I don't want you to get hurt."

Fuck that.
It's too late to tell me now, mum.
Though I knew that already.

So I just say,
"Why are you telling me?
We are just friends."

Ha. As fucking if.
Lies. I tell lots.
Not that anyone realises.

My little secrets.
Oh well.
Everyone has them.

And to top it all off,
It's fucking freezing today.
It was so hot last week.

It's only the fucking
First day of autumn.
And I wish I wore my scarf.

Fuck this.
At least I'm going to sport tonight.
It saves what little sanity I still have.

Love from, Me.
xx

Bitch, Essay, and Fifteen Days. Argh.

Bitch.
My mum,
That is.

Won't take me driving
Cause I was in bed
Five minutes after requested.

And you know what?
My fucking sister gets
No punishment for the same thing.

I hate this.
Seriously.
She laughs in my face.

Whinging at me.
Telling me
What she 'wants' me to do.

I tell her
That I
'Want' to go driving.

Fuck.
Nothing's going my way.
At all.

I have a fucking essay
Due tomorrow.
Have written one paragraph.

The introduction.
Did that five minutes ago.
It's gonna be a long night.

Want to punch something.
A wall would be nice.
But mum'd yell at me. Again.

And to top things off:
I didn't see him last night.
Fifteen fucking days, now.

He hardly talked to me
On MSN last night, either.
Watching a movie, apparently.

I hate my life.
It's fucked up
And I want to get rid of it.

No I don't.
I don't want to die.
I just want a break.

A break with just
Me and him.
I don't really want to go for good.

Not right now,
Anyway.
One reason.

If I do,
It'll be permanent.
I'm not good with permanent.

And he
Won't be with me.
But that's about it.

Love from, Me.
xx

Now I Have Nothing, Cause It's All Over.

He doesn't like me.
What I see
Is good as proof.

His new MSN name.
Of course, it couldn't possibly
Refer to me.

He never called me that.
He hasn't seen me
In almost two weeks.

Fuck,
It hurts.
Like. Hell.

But he said that
He did!
I guess things change

In the few weeks
Since he said that
To me.

I'm wasting
My fucking time
Wanting him.

Cause
I'm never
Gonna get him.

I never get anything
I want.
Never have.

I go further than
I ever have, with any
Other boy, with him.

Which isn't very far,
Admittedly.
But it means something.

I don't think
He gets that, though.
But why would he?

But all that effort,
All the fun times,
Were in vain.

It's not like they
Ever led to anything
Past what they were.

Holding hands at the movies.
Webcamming over MSN.
Pictures over text messages.

My mum would
Kill me, if she knew
Of those pictures.

But it's over now.
I'm left sad, depressed,
Dead.

I want those times back
So badly. So, so badly.
But they're out of my reach.

Love from, Me.
xx

He is over me. I can tell. :'-(

You know what I think?
I think
He doesn't really like me anymore.

Not like
He used to.
Those moments are gone.

And I hate that.
Cause for that time,
I was happy.

Not now.
Not anymore.
Not now those times are gone.

He told me he liked me.
Then after that,
He never acted like it.

Fuck.
Boys are
Frickin complicated.

What was he thinking?
What is he thinking?
I have no fucking idea.

And it hurts.
I want those times back
So badly.

I miss him.
Seeing him once a week
Is so not enough.

I don't want
To get used to the fact
That this might be the end.

I won't be able to cope.
I'm not coping now.
I feel fucking awful.

And to top things off,
I think he's ignoring me on MSN.
Fuck.

I tried to talk to him twice
The other night.
No reply.

It makes me angry.
Then upset.
Then rejected.

He doesn't want me.
I bet it's my fault.
But what did I do?

Was I too clingy?
Always wanting to talk on MSN?
I tried not to be.

What did I do
To make him change his mind
About me?

I don't know.
Fuck this. Boys' minds
Work funny.

Love from, Me.
xx

All I Want Is Red. Red, Red, Red.

My best friend
Fucking lied to me.
To help me, apparently.

So I wouldn't worry.
I don't care.
She still lied.

It makes me angry.
But I can't
Stay angry at her.

I sympathise.
Empathise, actually.
Cause I know it all too well.

I still hate it all.
Smuggle scissors into the bathroom
After my shower, attempts.

Doesn't work.
Only leave red marks.
Next to no fucking blood.

It makes me angrier.
I want to see
The red go down my arm.

Plan for next time:
I'll steal a knife.
From the kitchen.

Those ones are sharp.
Mum said so.
She said don't use them.

Fuck that.
They might actually do their job.
Cut.

Their fucking blades
Might work on my skin.
To split it.

Then I'll see the red
I want to see.
It would make me feel better.

I'm sick, I know.
I'm fucking messed up.
Well tell me something I don't know.

But I want it
So badly.
So, so badly.

To hurt
Injure
Fucking wreck myself.

But I can't.
Mum would notice.
My best friend would notice.

Back to the doctor's.
Back to the psychologist's.
I don't want to go there.

So I have
To be careful.
Hide it.

Love from, Me.
xx

Don't Waste Your Time Lecturing Me.

So Dad comes in.
Talks about me
And my sister.


Go away, Dad.
You have
No. Fucking. Idea.


Don't bother telling me
About boys and their testosterone levels
And girls and their estrogen levels.


I'm not interested.
You were a boy.
You don't know.


Don't pretend to.
And don't think you do.
Cause you don't.


I don't want to hear this.
What I haven't already learnt,
I'm not interested in hearing.


You think you know me
So fucking well.
You don't. No one does.


You have no idea
What it's like to be me.
You can't imagine.


Here's the truth then:
I don't know where I stand
With my favourite guy in the world.


It hurts like fucking mad
To see and hear
The things he says to other girls.


I am depressed.
It's not fucking
'Chemical Imbalances'.


Not like you think.
I need help.
And not from you.


From a bloody shrink.
But you don't know.
Because you don't know me at all.


I am always angry.
It explodes in me
And I have to hit things.


My sister is a bitch.
But no one seems to realise.
She is sweet to them.


I am left out
Cause I'm invisible.
Must be boring, too.

I feel horrible.
My own mother titles me Bully.
That makes me fucking hate myself.

So there you go.
A slice of my life.
No all of it. But some.

Don't ask me how I survive.
Cause I don't fucking know.
On bitterness and anger, perhaps.

Love from, Me.
xx

My Sister is a Bitch.

My bloody sister.
Getting on my nerves.
As usual.

So I hit her
A couple of times.
Not even any bruises.

Attention-seeking
Bitch.
She is.

Whinging
And complaining
And bitching

To anyone
Who will listen
To her.

Always about me.
They talk
As though I'm not there.

I'm only in the
Other room.
I can hear.

Bitch.
Shut the fuck up
And get a life.

You only want
People to sympathise for you
And hate me.

Well you got it.
Now they do.
I'm sure.

And that fucking hurts.
It's not nice
To feel like you're hated.

You have no bloody idea
At what
Goes on with me.

There's a lot more to me
Than just yelling
And sometimes violent outbursts.

I hate everything.
But I don't want to hate him.
He unknowingly hurts me.

None of you
Know that,
Either.

You think
You can just take everything
At face value.

Well here's news:
You can't.
Not with me.

There's so much more
Than what I let you see.
But you don't care.

Bitch.
Continue fucking talking.
I hate every fucking thing, anyway.

Love from, Me.
xx

I Want to Punch a Hole in the Wall.

I'm angry.
At mum, him,
Myself.

Checked his Facebook.
He's been talking
To her.

In the kind of way
I'd want him
To talk to me.

God, it hurts.
He SAYS he likes me.
I want it to be true.

He's done
With school.
Hardly see him.

Mum is a pain.
Can't make up her bloody mind
On small decisions.

I go to my room.
I cry.
I punch my door.

Mum comes up
Lets herself in
Despite my protests.

She talks to me.
I pretend
It's all about our argument.

Well, it's not like
I can tell her
What's really going on.

She wants me
To punch a pillow in future.
No point in that, is there?

Pillows don't hurt.
Pillows don't crash.
Pillows are soft. No good.

Hate this.
Hide my nail scissors
As mum walks in.

Stab my pasta.
Mum tries to joke,
"It's already dead."

Ha ha ha.
So funny, Mum.
I continue to stab my pasta.

Now
I have to talk to him
On Messenger.

Pretty up -
We might use webcams.
I hope.

I hope he comes
Online.
Have to talk to him.

Love from, Me.
xx

Just One Of The Things I Regret

I did it
Two
Nights ago.

Nothing too
Serious - Just
Stupid.

I got
Information
That I hated.

Because it wasn't
Fair. Also wasn't
My fault.

And I couldn't
Do anything
About it.

So I went to bed.
I cried.
I got a blue pen.

I pulled up my
T-shirt sleeve.
I wrote.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
I wrote it
Again and again.

On the same
Spot. It kinda
Hurt. A bit.

I was upset.
I was angry.
I was being reckless.

The next morning.
Blue on my white
T-shirt.

That night.
I go to wash it off.
Only most comes off.

Red marks
Of the words I wrote.
And slight blue ink.

The second night later -
Tonight -
Still a little ink left.

And red marks.
Look,
And the words are readable.

I kinda wish
I hadn't done it.
Mum might see.

Oh well.
Probably - hopfully -
It'll be gone before she does.

I wonder
When it will go?
I'll have to wait. And see.

Love from, Me.
xx

I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry... :'-(

I haven't spoken to him
In over
A week.

I'm starting to
Quietly
Fret.

What did I do?
Something wrong?
Is it my fault?

Have I been
Pestering you too much?
I try not to. Really.

But was it me?
If so,
I'm sorry. Really sorry.

He was on tonight.
When I
Got home.

Signed in.
There he was.
Online.

He didn't talk to me.
He didn't talk to me.
He didn't fucking talk to me!

And now
He's offline.
Not. A. Word.

I try.
So hard.
My head hurts.

Cause that's where I keep it all.
My thoughts.
Everything.

I do my utmost.
Usually I think
I'm pretty successful.

At not being possessive.
Obsessive.
Smothering.

Outside
My head,
Anyway.

Inside
It's a whole
Different story.

I am possessive.
Obsessive.
Smothering.

But I keep it
To the confines
Of my head.

But was it me?
Please, talk.
Talk to me.

I need to know
We're ok.
Please, talk to me.

Love from, Me.
xx

It Just Keeps Getting Better, Don't It.

Day was alright.
At first.
It started after lunch.

"Dad, Dad. Dad, Dad, Dad!"
Take some time
From your 'busy' schedule for me.

"What's wrong with my foot?"
Bubbles. Blisters. A couple of them.
"Probably from second degree burns."

Sunburnt feet. Agony for the past
Two days.
Well now I know what's wrong.

So I sit
With a water bottle in a towel
On my feet.

I text mum.
"What can I do?"
No sympathy: "You should have been more careful."

I text my friend.
Ignored that fact.
Resumed normal conversation.

Then, argument with dad.
About my hair.
Again.

For fuck's sake.
When will he realise?
He does not know more about my hair than me.

Doesn't stop him from
Arguing.
That's so him.

In the end
I get my way.
Along with a guilt trip.

Bloody hell.
There's nothing
Particularly sharp.

I drop my clothes on the floor.
I turn on the shower.
I want to cry.

No knife though.
It's about killing me.
Yet I can'y cry.

Eventually in bed.
I hear dad and partner laugh.
Buuuuurn.

They have forgotten all about me.
Probably complained for a while
Then got over it.

And I thought today
Was a turnaround.
Finally getting on together.

Foolish, I know.
As if
That's gonna happen.

Love from, Me.
xx

*Originally written 14th January 2010*

My 40 Minutes at the Beach

It's afternoon; it's overcast.
Sitting up among the sand dunes.
Trying to be out of the wind.

Watching the waves.
Jade green turns into
Steel grey to the horizon.

Continuous.
Crashing.
Slightly hypnotic.

Calming.
Sort of.
A bold, headstrong, calmness.

Watching the boats.
Two of them.
One eventually disappears.

Watching the salt spray
Get carried by the wind
As the wave rolls.

Watching a jogger
Every so often
Run by to the beat of an iPod.

I huddle to my knees.
The wind spits sand at me.
My fringe flies crazily.

Thinking
About the mesmerising effect
Of the tide.

Intrigued
By its movement.
I have all the time in the world right now.

Goosebumps on my legs.
My shorts have sand in their creases.
My jacket hood blows off.

Almost magical.
The fact I'm kinda cold
Ruins it.

I almost like it better like this.
No sun, just clouds.
No blue, just grey.

No people.
Just the tourists:
Parents with overexcited kids.

Not quite happy.
Yet also not unhappy.
Satisfied. For now.

Look over to the neighbouring beach.
Just the same as mine.
Only higher buildings behind it.

Looking at the grass.
Being hammered by the wind.
The unrelenting wind.

Time goes strange.
Fast, slow, fast, then slow.
I'll go now.

Be gone an hour.
And my toes are getting cold.
Pale underneath the sunburn.

I'll visit again.
Tomorrow.
Love an overcast, windy beach.

Love from, Me.
xx

*Originally written 13th January 2010*

My Kind of Good Time

Squished
In the back of the car
On the way home.

Me,
My sister,
And her friend.

Singing
At the top of our lungs
Laughing in between words.

"Bye, bye, Miss American Pie,
Drove my Chevy to the levy,
But the levy was dry..."

I'm the oldest.
But sometimes the 3-year age gap
Can just disappear.

Strange.
It's not like me and my sister
Are exactly friends.

But I guess,
Sometimes there are
Exceptions.

So much fun.
Best time I've had
In ages.

Probably since
My formal.
Last year.

I was dancing,
And singing,
And laughing.

I don't have that good a time
Very often.
Usually it's just bad.

But it was good.
I want
To do it again.

Maybe another time.
But I don't know when us 3
Will be like that again.

But I had a good time.
On the way back
From the movies.

Also
Eating M'n'M's.
Playing Corners.

Strangely good times.
I was laughing.
How odd.

Yet true.
I was laughing.
And I wasn't faking.

Wasn't just laughing
For the sake of it.
So I blended in.

Laughing cause I meant it.
Cause it was funny.
Cause I was happy.

Well,
As close as I can be,
To happy.

Love from, Me.
xx

What Was It? Pleeease?

There's something
He's not telling me,
I reckon.

So I brought it up
With him,
He might maybe say?

I reminded him
Of the occasion on which
It happened,

He started to say something,
But never finished.
Rolling my eyes.

I was left with a,
"nvm":
Never Mind.

Irritating.
Highly.
I will mind.

But tonight -
Oh, it could be magic!
He forgets.

He forgets, my ass.
Said very quickly.
Along with, "goodnight."

So I wish him goodnight.
And race to Facebook.
I have to check.

Is he just appearing offline?
Apparently not.
He's not online on Facebook, either.

He must have really had to leave.
Despite the fact -
He usually leaves an hour later.

Gotta wonder.
Don't ya?
Even if you shouldn't.

Maybe I'm going
A little overboard.
Maybe.

But what can I say?
I'm really dyyying,
To know what he was going to tell me.

Well.
Not about to find out now,
Am I?

Nope.
Looks like I'm gonna have to
Just keep on wondering.

Unlikely that I'll
Ever find out
What he was going to say.

No.
I don't like that fact.
At all.

Love from, Me.
xx

To Work It Out

I spend ages
Trying to decipher
What he means

Stalking Facebook
Reading through comments,
Wall messages, anything

Trying to work it out.
He doesn't sound alright-
What's going on?

'View All Comments'
Click.
Looooong discussion...

But he doesn't say.
Only dw:
Don't Worry.

So over to the archives-
My journal:
Nothing special happened on that day.

Text messages:
Still no result.
Think, think...

MSN history:
We didn't talk that day.
Think again....

So it must not have anything
To do with me.
I guess that's a good thing.

But wait!
Two days later
I talked to him

On MSN, so the history shows it
I realise what it was
My detective work pays off.

So now I know.
I remember.
I sink.

I realise that must have been the day
He found out he was moving
Away.

But that is only one case.
There have been others.
Searching, looking

To find out lots.
Is what he says to me true?
Should I know anything he's not told me?

But the thing is:
I know it all already.
He's told me before.

But I can't help it
Still looking, checking,
Even for a different perspective.

But at the end of the day,
You have to remember,
There's only so much you're able to find out.

Love from, Me.
xx