Bloody Scribbled down on Thursday, 1 September 2005 0:33:07 AM
<<--I'd like to thank the person who emailed me yesterday, your words meant a lot to me. Somehow I was feeling incredibly shitty and those uplifting words did a lot to me, thanks once again, they are very treasured-->> Dearest diary, You won't believe how bad I've been feeling these past few days. Blood was all that kept me going. I feel like I have no contents, I even wonder why some people bother talking to me while I'm not interesting and I can't even find good arguments for things that I stand for. I feel I'm a simpleton. I'm getting tired listening to my mother, she's always talking. I can't answer her, listen to music, think what to write and write and also correct my writings and the tv is annoying. I can't do so much at once. I know she doesn't mean to bother me, she is only trying to be like normal families. Anyway, I hate the programm that she's watching (Oprah is now instead). It was one where they humiliate ugly people, where they select a new sort of 'commercial' face. I wished I could kick the tv or destroy it with this very hard wooden log so it will stop talking. I'm so angry. Maybe my anger comes because I miss M. so incredibly much. I miss his softness and sweetness and all the things he'd tell about his life or current events. I miss his presence, his being, the knowledge he's close by. I'd sleep with my mobile near as if he was lying aside me in real life. I feel sad he may be in the hospital, losing the memory of me. It pains me. And I feel like I'm in love with L. too (but I love M?!), I'll admit that and it so badly sucks that he is always offline now. It's like this: Monday he's on, Tuesday not, Wednesday again, Thursday not and so forth. I want him to be here so we can talk. I know he sees me just as a talk buddy. I want to do something to him (hurt him, kick him, slap him), I don't care if he would do the same back to me. Or maybe I felt sexually attracted to him? I never speak about such things but I think I do. I liked his flirtatious ways. He was like those wandering lost souls on the streets but who knew clearly what road lead to where. And I wanted to be his mistress, the one to make him feel good and beautiful. I wished he craved me.. I spoke to him while I was talking to my host. I was getting so pissed at him as he was talking lots of nonsense because he was stoned. I didn't even feel like talking to him than nodding and giving stupid replies. He was being a complete scientist, ranting about the weirdest facts I don't wish to hear except his feelings and his thoughts. I told him I was sort of disappointed he was stoned and hoped to speak to him when he was sane, when he would actually mean things he were telling me. I also asked him about his preference for brunettes with green eyes. I find him a superficial, discriminative idiot. I do have preferences but if the cake is red instead of green, I'd still like it if it tasted the way I wanted it to taste. I wished I never added him to my contact list. A bad thing, I can't erase him. If he would do the same, I'd feel like he never gave a shit about me. I don't understand guys, they are so complicated and he wasn't good for me as he was constantly smoking and drugged. There'd be a moment I'd get fed up with his unreal state of being as they are just fantasies, hallucinations. I want the real him. In spite of all the things I couldn't accept from him, he was so adorable, so nice to talk to (when he was sane). He looked like a good lover. Like the type of guy who'd grab you harshly and pulled you close and kiss you passionately. Or I was a dreamy girl. M. wouldn't do that as he's soft and I do like a certain bit of aggression, it's something I have always felt I had in me. That's why sometimes I doubt whether I actually feel pain, maybe I enjoyed it but lied to myself that it was hurtful and I went so far that I actually, really believed it. I have no idea. My appointment with the psychologist went alright. She appeared to have changed over the few months we hadn't seen each other. She wore a dress, sort of fluffy which was sleeveless. Somehow it showed her legs beautifully. In a word: she looked gorgeous. I could only look at her in fascination as I wanted to be just as nice as her. There was a moment she sat at her desk to telephone another unit to ask whether they could allow me to have therapies over there. I think my psychologist will be a guy. I'm not happy because I don't talk well with men. She let me know she was happy my lifely situation was fixed, my mother's problems had help and that I had insurance, she was proud of me that I had done all those on my own. I had no choice. My mother sometimes feels like she's my daughter, instead of me being hers. I am learning things on my own and I don't mind. I sat up straight, without leaning back whilst I answered all her questions. 'Do you have anything urgently to tell me, that needs help and can't wait longer?' I remember one of the last things she asked before she put an end to our conversation that didn't last more than half an hour. 'Uhhmm.. I don't know if I should say or how to say it..', I replied in a manner like I was confused while I were smarter than that. 'No, I don't think I have anything that needed help urgently' I added after a short time thinking. 'Do you think of suicide sometimes?' I doubted whether to answer that question or how to answer. I said 'yes...' what she understood as 'sort of but not much'. She won't know I think of it daily. Before I left her office I wondered why she couldn't help me and what was what she actually did over there. She does psychotherapy (I don't know if they spell it that way) but can't help me as she focusses more on one or two topics (I seem to have tons of issues). Therefor I needed to go to another professional, which is next week already. I must say, she is sweet after all. Perhaps it's the whether that changed her. She shone, she wasn't cold but like a star. But I hated it when I was looking at her and her eyes were wandering off elsewhere as if she didn't want to look at me. Am I that hideous? She's happy I sought contact again. Yes, sure. I sold a few stuff of my collection for 10 euros. I'm such a bad negotiator. I told the girl the cost for mailing the package is 6 euro, she sent 5. So I had to pay 50 euro cent extra. I feel like doing something but well, at least I got something. I sell stuff to get money to buy myself some ingredients for my birthdaycake. The woman I talk to will mail out the things she promised me. I told her I'd pay her and she seemed happy. I will wait to buy the real thing till the end of October, till I was sure M. wasn't going to return ever again. I don't have hope. I hope to see L. tomorrow, I miss that idiot. Why are people so fascinated by beauty? Am I abnormal that the beauty I love isn't humanly accepted? I would like to go visit him and have him teach me to do a good trip. I actually want to seduce him. I'm a bad girl... 'Don't believe I'm happy when I act this way'. P.S: Starting from tomorrow I will try to beat Isole by weighing 55kg. At least I have something real now to compete with. I will be starting to fast while taking medications, they will make me sleep. I will miss L... *sighs*

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