I made it to my birthday and I didn't try to kill myself even once.

Last night I got pretty fucking close. Rampages are THE MOST terrifying thing to experience completely alone. I want to live I want to live and I know I do because I had it in me to get help and help came and cleaned up my mess and I was kind of okay then.

I threw thumbtacks and one got stuck in my foot.
I pushed things out of the pantry.
I pounded my fists on desks and counters
I tried to talk myself out of it
My diaries had no hope, I broke one against the hall floor- I cried about it
I slammed drawers. I broke one- I cried about it
I stood against walls, I paced the apartment
I tried to talk myself out of it.

What I didn't do was break one single thing that was glass and could hurt someone else.
I did not pound my head against corners or floors
I did not kick walls
I did not ruin anyone else's possessions.

So I did alright.

I felt like a snowball (excuse the poor analogy). It started with writing on here, then writing in my private journal, then SCREAMINGANDSCREAMINGANDSCREAMINGANDSCREAMING. When I think about it now I want to cry some more, because that scream came from a place I didn't even know existed inside of me.
I remember being morbidly fascinated by itt, noting that I knew I was screaming but also not believing that the sound filling up the room could be coming from me.

I thought the neighbors would call security, or the police. The general loudness of my apartment was my saving grace last night - If I get put away again that will be the end of me.

So I'm alive, and I'm okay and I'm a little tired and I have a headache. So I feel like a human being again.

It makes me sad to think that if I wanted to have a child I would not have the mental capacity to take care of it.
Weird thought, but it's true. It's heartbreaking.









endpost.

The sporadic nature of my thoughts is becoming impossible to cope with.
My palms sweat with the minor regrets I put myself through because not one person knows how to deal with me.
I'm pushing everyone away, then I'm feeling alone. I don't want to be a burden but I'm hurt when I'm left behind. I have friends that I just want to sit and stare at but not talk to or even be in the same room with sometimes. I just want people around. I want to feel unconditional security. I want to stop ruining everything for myself.

And I want to stop fucking crying. This will be like the 5th time this week- fucking child.

I want to be off campus in the company of the people I love here. I want to belong in my group doing something somewhere else

I feel like the more in control of myself I try to be the worse I do. I get this mean spirited attitude where I am so sick of myself that I want to fucking puke.
Unpredictability is wonderful when it does not concern mental health and dependence on medication to keep me functioning as a normal human being.

I could fucking rip someone's face off.

Here's something I'm learning to like about myself- the fact that I can cry and scream and almost give up, but I haven't actually given up yet.

This semester I have been offered so many easy ways out. I've been told to sign up with OSS, spend my time being pampered at a mental institute, take the semester off, take classes from home, etc... Maybe it wasn't the smartest route, but I'm roughing it out.
I would absolutely not say that I am doing so in flying colors- my clothes are dirty, my room is a mess, I whine about every class I have to attend, I project my frustrations on my family and friends....BUT. I am doing it.


My birthday is tomorrow. I'm turning 22 and I feel miserable about it because 22 is old and I don't want my actual age to start matching how my insides sometimes feel (60, 70, tired...). At the same time, my heartheart feels like it's maybe 15 at times. Except not mean 15. Just more youthful than 22 will allow.

So anyway, I was resisting the idea of celebrating my birthday pretty hard at first, but it must be said that I am GLAD TO HAVE MADE IT TO 22 ALIVE. A few scrapes and cuts extra, yes, but I'm not dead!
Weird that exactly two months ago I was crying in a car with my ex-lover wondering if I would make it this far. Weird looking at diary entries stating that if my emotions got to exactly where they are now I would fucking walk away from this existence.

I guess the instinct for survival has a greater pull than just giving up, which is cruel considering my body is just going to stop working one day.

The addition of Josh (my BELOVED) into my life has sincerely been 75% of the reason that I am still around. I really do think that. If he had been absent for like one minor issue that seemed like a huge hurdle, I would have dropped the ball. But he wasn't and I didn't and that's what a partnership is.



endpost.

I woke up with a headache and teeth that were tender.

Things that need to get done today:

1. Brush my teeth. It's just got to be done.

2. Relieve myself of this headache (may or may not happen)

3. Finish 3/4 incompletes. WAWAWAWAWA!!!!

Do you think that my professor hates me now, for holding up the grading process?? Because that makes me sad. It isn't what I meant to happen. But sometimes when I'm sick I don't know what else to do but idle for a while. Venus tells me to pamper myself, but my teachers just don't get it. Because what kind of excuse is that anyway

I get to a point where I am so overwhelmed that I try to put on the brakes and make it all leave. And that just exacerbates things and it's a total mindfuck because when my instincts are wrong things get confusing.

Things I don't Understand:
1. Myself. And also the fact that I think I understand myself better than a lot of other people. Does it take being completely psycho to reach this type of almost-understanding or what?? Idgi

2. This weather and why it makes me feel shitty and why it is completely useless except for to make me feel shitty and make my feet wet.

3. Why my bedroom always reflects how I'm feeling (disorganized, messy, ridiculous, pathetic).

4. Why I crave endless patience from everyone else, but I lack it for everyone else.
*I think this potentially makes me a bad person



I am tired of being the most selfish person in my life, and I thought I was getting better at not being that way but I was wrong.



endpost.

"Nanny, I only read pop-up books."

Yesterday was super eventful.
We attended a punk rawk show. The cops came, I fainted, I ate pizza, they took our men, I was passed out on the car ride home with the 3 others in the back seat (packed vehicle).
Then Josh puked his brains out, so good thing he didn't stay over. And I woke up with a cough. It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon and I got no plans and no friends in siiighttt!!!!!!

In last night's dream he left and was replaced by someone not as good
I had his phone, but it was actually hers
I laid in wait but had to move
The couch was prepped for painting

On the airplane he wore purple
I screamed angrily that he had just arrived
We sat together, daylight replaced the hotel party


Weirdest sleepless dreamy nights

I have nothing to say.
My ability to form real sentences is out da windahhh, and I don't know why. I'm just not as good at it anymore, at least not on here.

I write novels in my diary though.

I find that I am frustrated with all the wrong people recently. My temper is short with some, and endless with others. I feel like everyone around me thinks I am crazy, and if they don't think I'm crazy they think I'm delicate- which is worse. Maybe it's paranoia, because that is a symptom you know.

I want to GO. And I'm going to. I'm good at helping myself. I don't like it when other people have to deal with me. I don't like a lot of things, but I let them happen anyway because I am typical and weird.

I wish that college was a more convenient place to want to behave antisocially for a few days, and read and write and eat chips in front of the TV and stuff.

On the brightest side, I have never felt happier or healthier in the company of another human being. I feel like it radiates from me, because it's so big and perfect and surprising.

I'm healing



-endpost.

*****************************

The dreams were different yesterday because they were less real
The toilet was not a toilet, it contained giant pennies- a fountain of sorts
I couldn't empty out in my dream so I woke up to do it
Relief

Second slumber, there were more dreams
They each contained at least one familiar face
The rest was full of discomfort
My focus was there, even in sleep
My back hurt the next morning

Digits numb- exhaustion, deprivation
Mind gone blank, call it an accident
From the backseat, she cried the full 30 minutes home.
We fought, we sat silently

I had this dream that their faces were red with emotion
because they both wanted the booze
and their love was forgotten

And I dreamed that she was pregnant with a black child
but he was white
so it didn't make sense
and we couldn't tell who was lying

And we fought and fought
and our words were walls
and we lost each other forever
And we weren't "us" anymore




These dreams have got to stop

Yesterday was Day 1 of not taking a nap. It makes me moody - sorry friends. Napping leads to weight-gain!!!! Boo.

Strangely, I do not like making other people feel sorry.
Sorrow is a terrible thing to feel.

Today I felt happy because of my LGBT class, my partner, and walking in the snow with friends and then solo. And also meeting a stranger named Flip.