secrets of spilt milk.
irritations: five cent pieces. lime green. sunsets. milo. spiders. insomnia. bride wars. greasy hair. old things. feet. procrastination. pepsi. dry. women's business suits. envy. bruised apples. country. the prince. understatements. skin. lack of physical contact. fluro yellow. the earth. mundane. perfection. truth. bordem. gabriella cilmi. being goood. procrastination. vomit colours. chaos. long dresses. silence. sitting still. early bedtimes. illustrator. real talent. safety. loving people who don't deserve it. the ‘right’ thing to do. being careful with my heart. realism. crap stories. la soliel. white stripes. the cross. procrastination. more procrastination. being honest unnecessarily. straight men. beautiful things. curved lines. straight figures. the usual. clean. appreciation of ugly. agreements. people at ease. coughs. Fred. trying hard.
*
"Let me tell you something about the world, kid. It's a big place, and there are a lot of people in it. There are bad people and good people, monsters and angels, people you should trust and people you should just downright avoid. And you wanna know the worst thing about it? You have no idea what a person is until it's far too late."
"Then what are you?"
"You won't know until it's far too late, kid."
- Bloo-Jelly
01 June, 2010
Withdrawal
Keep blogging because I can’t do anything else properly.
I feel like I fell from a ten story building.
I don’t know what to do.
I wont let myself think
so everything is spilling out physically.
I’m not myself.
I want to puke.
My eyes are sore.
My head is pinched up so tight I can feel the little connections as they tip toe around what I really don’t want to think about. Tip toe around all fucking day, all fucking night. Just don’t hurt me.
Cleo, you’ve really fucked things up.
I don’t need your pity.
Pity was all I had. I have to stay neutral. Tell myself to focus on the future and all I see is black dots and patches where I try to hide all the plans I had. Tell myself to think about my passions and the things I enjoy. Everything feels fucking flat and dead. I can’t motivate myself. I keep walking around and doing things but don’t get anywhere.
So long as I don’t think.
Please forgive me,
I’m not my fucking self.
I wish you all understood, what goes on. I wish you could all meet logic. Logic is the super ego in this game that we’re playing. The will to live. Logic would like to tell you all, that in fact, this is not me. This is not really who I am. I wouldn’t do this normally.
I did what I had to do, just to survive. What do you do, when everything tells you to quit? I had to speak up. I had to call the attention my way.
Did I ever ask for this?
Better than nothing, right? I don’t know, I don’t know. I used to have control. I used to be able to keep quiet and deal with it alone. I used to be able to deal with this but it just got too big.
Don’t you fucking see that I’m not myself?
I wish you all understood. What it’s like. You can’t have sympathy for someone so terrible, right right right. I don’t want to hurt anybody. But the first instinct when drowning is to pull on those around you. Even if it takes them down.
I need help that nobody wants to give. You can leave and quit but I can’t. I live with myself all the fucking time, how do you think that feels?
All anybody can say is things I should take. Take some vitamins. You need more vitamins. You need more something else. You need more.
The answer is going to be inside a tablet.
I don’t want to be me anymore. So I keep misbehaving. Keep fighting and kicking and scrreaming my way out of this trap. Tear this out. Tear me up. I can’t see the sun.
I’m drowning.
Cross my heart.
Hope to die.
I never meant to hurt anyone.
Except myself.
Let me tell you the truth.
I’m not myself.
But whoever I’ve become
wants out.
Right now.
I wish you knew.
Labels: ache
8:46 PM
Spin me round again and rub my eyes
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May 2010 June 2010
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
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