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why people should stay away: |
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i guess in a sense i am now broken. used merchandise. defeated. cowed by my own subconscious.
the slightest kind word from anyone can bring on a torrent of tears. i smile too brightly so that no one suspects anything.
my moods can change in less than an instant, from happy and demure to fuming silently.
and to what relief do i turn?
why, to my little pretty red lines.
im not embarrassed about them, really. i WANT people to know so that they can get away from me while they still can, but maybe im too mentally attatched.
i need the love they give to me. i need the companionship, the open shoulders to wet with wretched tears from a wretcheder soul, the slightest understanding, the distractions they provide from my deteriorating self.
but at the same time i know my steep decline will only hurt them worse if they continue to hang around a decrepit whore like me, and so i try with everything in my power to reveal to them my darkest secrets, my little red lines, my madness inside, my eagerness to die if only to make this Voice inside shut the hell up for once.
i want to feel destroyed, helpless, terrible, awful. i want to feel like the hopelessly emotional monster that i am so close to the surface.
music makes me feel better in times of strife, so i have stopped listening to it, progressively. i've stopped singing. i used to positively HATE sleeping on my stomach, and now thats the only way i can fall asleep. i constantly look at myself in the mirror, look at the flaws im covered in, what awful genetics im cursed with, how fat and gross and pug-ugly i am.
i dont care if i starve myself to look thin.
i dont care if i burn my skin to achieve the perfect look.
i dont care if i shed some blood to feel better.
im abusing my body with chemicals so it works the way it should.
however, i will not drink, smoke, do drugs, or have frivolous amounts of sex to feel/look better.
now, why is that?
good parenting, good excuses (soccer, track, bassoon), good morals, or something else? is there some spark in me that refuses to die?
if so, its fighting a losing battle. there isn't a week (most cases, its days, but its summer so i have a little bit to live for) that goes by that i DONT plan my own death. things i have thought of are:
jumping in front of a speeding bus (recently, in the past month)
slitting my femoral artery in the bathroom (last 2 months)
taking out my moms gun and shooting myself (idk when)
sitting in a public restroom and eating copious amounts of poison (last 3 years)
hanging/drowning/carbon monoxide/other methods of asphyxiation (never seriously considered because i dont even like holding my breath to make hiccups go away)
so now, kind jury, what is your verdict?
i'll sum it up so you dont have to re-read this spiel again:
15 year old girl craves abandonment slightly more than she fears it. cuts her thighs to feel better. preposterous mood swings. frequently and seriously (as well as casually) contemplates suicide. has a Voice that abuses her. hates self with a passion and will abuse her body to look appealing to herself (not necessarily others because for some strange reason they're attracted to her and she doesnt like that). has been removing or has an inability to do the joyful things in life. seeks guidance and possibly a chemical cure for the madness that plagues her old and rotten soul.
 bellahnator · Sun Jul 11, 2010 @ 07:00am · 0 Comments |
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