Happy Birthday Andrew.

My baby boy is six today. I miss him so much.

Aint It Just Peachy?

Was on the verge of a breakdown earlier today. All of my teachers called me brainless.
My English teacher ranted about something that was NOTHING to do with her. Some stupid thing about food parcels for poor people. Told us we thought about no one but ourselves. Haahaa... Stupid bitch. So yeahh, I lost it. Got into lotsa trouble, then couldn't stop crying in Mod Stud. My teacher didn't notice, due to me being very quiet about it. Needed to have a full scale bawl, but the damned pride wouldn't let me.

Finally washed my hair avec shampoo tonight. OMG. My hair is clean! :D

I Find It Kinda Funny, I Find It Kinda Sad...

My dad used to say it was me and him against THEM. I once thought he was being a little extreme. He's not.

In pleasant spirits, on my way home from a day out with the girls, and Macy, I decided to drop in on my grandparents, to get my dresses, as I need to think about what I'm taking down to Cymru.

Well, I was very nice, complimenting my grandmother on her new skirt. Asking how they were, being cheerful and civil. She started on me, saying I'd accused her of what happened.

Said she's take me to court. My grandad started on me then.

They accused me of lieing, of making it all up. Why would I lie about something like that?
They threw out my black dress. The one I wore when Francis came up. My favourite dress.

I'm just complaining now...

Hair loss is exceptionally bad.
Like, clumps.
Bugger.
Need conditioner!!!

Fuck It.

Children are an odd subject for me. I love them, yet they scare me, I can be very awkward around them. Or I can be fantastic with them.

Francis has changed the way I see children. I always never wanted to have children of my own, was adamant in that respect. I've changed my mind now. I would love to have them.

But now, after thinking deeply about it, I'm not sure I could.
For medical reasons:
My liver is Fcuked.
My eating disorder would get awfully bad, due to me being paranoid about putting on weight.

Mental reasons:
My eating.
Depression.
Needles.
Hospital.
My experiences. (I couldn't have all those invasive examinations.)


It's really sad, because (Not being big headed here) I think I'd make a great mum, and loads of people agree! I know I'd just get panicky, and end up getting ill.

I've done some research, and it turns out a lot of people are like that.
I hope I'll be better by the time I want to have kids. I really do.

My Self Righteous Suicide...

What left is there to hurt or harm me? What have I not been through?
I've lived a thousand lives of agony, and that's all I have left to call my own. That and my pride. My inability to talk about these things. None of them how bad it is, to feel so alone, to feel that death is the only way out.

Dad, you've done all you can, but you can't stop it. I love you, and you don't have to feel hurt anymore. It will all go away now.

Francis, it'll hurt like hell for a while. But things will get better, and then you can go back to living your life. I won't be around to hurt you anymore, to say all those horrible things, to worry you. It'll be okay, I promise.

We can leave this world,
Leave it all behind,
We can steal this car if your folks don’t mind,
We can live forever if you’ve got the time.

I’ll tell you all how the story ends
Well, the good guys die and the bad guys win (who cares?)
It ain’t about all the friends you made
But the graffiti they write on your grave

For all of us to have seen the light,
Salute the dead and leave the fight,
Who gives a damn if the *something I can’t hear*
Let the walls come down, let the engines roar.

To Francis.

Okay, okay, you were right. I'm not feeling any different, just this indescribable and never easing loneliness.
I don't know why I do these things, I just want to make the pain go away, that's all. Do you know what it's like to spend every waking moment wishing you were dead? I do. It never ever goes away, and nothing makes me feel better. Talking to you just makes me feel worse that you're not here, that you are too far away to help, to be there.

I don't know what makes me do the things I do. It's just never ending. It never stops, never gets easier.
You think that it does, but then, WHAM! Something else hits you, and knocks you sideways, and you don't recover from it for a while. When you do, something else comes along.

And that's when the self harm comes in. Like I said, something comes up, I start to self harm. After a few weeks or months, I try to stop, and things get really difficult. I get really volatile, because I'm not able to cope the way I usually do. Something big happens, I do it all again.

And the nightmares. The never ending nightmares. The faces in the dark, the taunting.
Half of the time I physically don't know what I'm doing, and I can barely remember what I've done.
Like last night.

I keep hurting you and I can't stand it. But I couldn't cope with losing you.
I've lost what it's like to be a human being, to feel, to laugh and cry.
I'm just nothing now, just an hollowed out, empty shell.

Stop the ride, I want to get off.

I went to the Mental Health Clinic today.
But now I feel crappy. And I mean fucking crappy.
Like I want to-well, you know what I mean.

I don't know why. I am calm, collected. I know exactly what to do, how to do it. None of them know. I can't tell them.

Francis hasn't noticed. I've not hidden the emptiness in my voice. He feels pretty down. It was the anniversary of his uncle's death.

I'm hallucinating. I'm seeing things out of the corner of my eye, just little things, not enough for me to say that it's a spirit or anything.

I want to tell him, I guess. But not. He can't talk me out of it. I don't want him to try, or to know.

Things are looking up. And yet I'm feeling worse. A few weeks, and I could feel better. I don't want to wait. I'm going to Wales in a week and a half. Do I want to wait until afterwards? No.

Stop the ride, I want to get off.

Another Year, Gone.

I wonder what 2011 has in store for me. Stupid question really. It has the same things. Some more pain, some more suffering, some more dying. On the inside, at least.

And what have I done this year? Well, me family are gone. They don't know me, don't want to. The only one I have left is my Dad. No grandparents, no mother, no brothers or sisters. I have Francis and his parents, but no family.

If you'd told me this last year, well, I probably would have believed you. On the 3rd of December last year, I was living with Carla. I was back with Darren.

This year? Let's not even go there. It's not worth going into.

Is this what every year is destined to be like? Last year, I went back to my mother. This year, I can't. I can't ever go back.

Life goes on I suppose. Mine's is beyond the mundane, beyond all the fantastical notions of a close knit family, of love and happiness.

But would I rather it was someone else? No. I can struggle through it. I have struggled through it. I am who I was meant to be, and nothing is going to change that. And for better, or for worse, I'll continue to struggle through, and maybe, just maybe, I can make a difference to this cold, dark, bleak world.