Nothing Scribbled down on Saturday, 3 September 2005 20:48:23 PM
Dearest diary, I wished I were dead. Why do I wish that? There's always a why. I don't have the energy to give you a detailed description. I feel incredibly lonely. So lonely that I talk loudly to myself untill I start crying because I know how unfuctionable I am in this world. I can't be anyone. I am not pretty, I don't have big boobs, or a big booty, I don't have a small nice figure, I don't have long soft hair nor green eyes (like it would make such a big change). I am angry that I'm so insignificant. I am an artwork people would look with eyes that scream 'ew'. I found a knife in the kitchen last night but it was dull when I tried using it on my arm. Just awhile ago I hid a bottle in a towel to break it. All it resulted in was loads of noise the neighbours below would hear. It simply wouldn't break for me to cut myself with it. My mother found a bloody bandage. I don't care. She's not longer angering with me. It's like she saw a book about tarot or something she isn't familiar with but doesn't really like. All she commented was: 'I don't want you to bleed dry on me, or get me into trouble'. I replied she should stop messing around in my stuff even this bandage was in my jacket. I used it when going to the psychologist. I self-injured and didn't want it to be noticeable therefor I covered it in a bandage. You know also what I like, diary? When the bandage gets sticky when you don't use bandaids. I no longer remove it carefully but I just ripped it off when its sticky on my arms to make the wounds open and bleed again. I feel so much strength, so powerful when I bleed. I feel like I'm a God. He can't decide or make me stop doing this, it's so pleasant, it simply feels so good. That is sometimes... I slept almost the whole day and now I weigh 58.1kg. Fabulous. It's because I haven't eaten much. With clothes on it's 59.5kg. I feel better than I've ever felt in my life. My waist is shrinking, my legs are getting longer. Only my shoulder bones above my chest are starting to show and around my hips a bit, but not so bad as my shoulder though. My mother seems to copy me too. She now lives by the rule: 'When you eat, I too will eat'. Poor her. She's 62.7kg, I noticed, without clothes on. Not that I saw her naked, she just had a towel wrapped around herself when I was checking her weight. She told me while I was lying in bed thinking about nothing, that if one day one of us (her children) came to die, she would also die. Great, isn't it? She simply couldn't let go off me. She can't see that I'm now an adult, not a child anymore. I am not a baby, I'm an own identity. I am only related to her by blood, but I should be able to create my own life. You understand now why I was never given the chance to mature, it's obvious. The guests are about to arrive. And I think and miss talking to L. I know this is a total fantasy and I love it, really. I know if I told him the truth that I were in love with him, he'd say it's impossible because we hardly know each other. But for my feelings we did and I wanted to cuddle him so badly. After the past relationship he had that broke his heart, I wanted to cuddle him, kiss him and show him that he's beautiful and a wonderful person. I adore him, though not as much as M. M. meant a lot to me and that I didn't adore him as much was because he was a bit avoidant of me (refering to L.'s 'superficialness' from time to time). I got a bit angry with him yesterday when I asked him who he's close to as in talking. He was mentioning other people than me that I got so angry! I asked: 'What am I to you then? Just nothing? Just a talk buddy to kill time?'. He replied: 'Of course not, you're more than a talk buddy to me'. I wonder what I am? I'm so unfortunate that I'm ugly. I only feel pretty now when I'm starving myself. I wished I could pick my eyeballs out and put green ones, or make my hair long. Or give myself a shiny skin, then everyone, the whole world would love me and want me. But then, they'd only be fascinated by the shell... I will always want to have someone love me for me, not for my looks. It will never work that way. But some internet love were lucky when they knew each other and when they met and saw both had good lucks, they only were blessed with a succesful relationship. (Now I can brag with my beautiful girl or guy) Looks matter so much. And I want to be taken out of this story without people ever noticing I were gone.

«« death taking place -- prisoned by life »»