| Written by Diana, on 10-07-2000 23:00 |
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One month ago I swore to myself that I would never cut again. That promise was useless to me. Well, I just got off the phone with Michelle and we only talked for a half an hour because she was flying to Georgia tonight. She said "you talk on the phone really well, bull shit. I was ecstatic to be talking to her and have my parents and sister out of the room. I only feel worse though. I should feel better but nothing came out of it. She kept asking me questions about things I didn't have answers for. Honest to god. She was probably at home packing when I called. I am in hell and I couldn't tell her.
I don't know why but she sounded like she was in a hurry so I didn't want to mention anything--the cutting, the poems--anything. I felt like she wasn't all there. And I don't yet feel comfortable asking her things unless they're about me. It was really a very uncomfortable conversation but she seemed to think I was VERY comfortable. That's all that counts. I wish it was so bad that she was EXTREMELY concerned about me. But it's not that bad. At least I can't convince her of that. I think it really is THAT bad. I am dreading tomorrow and the next day and the three days after that. I HATE it here. Again, I don't have enough words to express what I'm feeling. At least none that won't make me feel stupid if I decide to read this again. Ones that won't make me roll my eyes every time I even think about this entry. I want to die it's so bad here. I'm dreading the second my sister and parents walk in that door. And my sister wants to keep that door open to my parents' room. Michelle asked me if they fight.
I can't think. And this poem here is only making it harder to do so. So many things are running through my mind that I am having trouble sorting things out. It seems like it is this way more and more these days. So much I can't express. Don't know how or what it is that's bothering me. I shouldn't have scheduled that appointment with Michelle. It was a big mistake and is only going to make it easier to let her down. Which is getting easier with each day that goes by. I don't know why but whenever I see someone suffering on television and my sister or mother says something about it or makes some "sympathy" noise, I roll my eyes. It makes me sick. I don't feel bad for them. Ever. I feel so alone all the time. For two hours a week I feel not so alone. It's tearing me up inside. I love the movies or television shows where people die. I feed off their agony. I want to be able to tell them what I think and have them hear me. They don't HEAR me. They know nothing's all right yet they keep on!! My sister..my sister just thinks that she's in control of the world. That everything should be going her way or else it should go no one's way. She thinks that life is beautiful for her and everyone else. I have nothing further to say about her. My mind is filled with words to say. I don't know where to start, how to say them, or in what order to say them in. It's getting late and I fear they'll come walking in the door any second. Every sound I hear makes me wonder if they're home. And my stomach drops.
I hate it here because I am forced to eat. I hate it here because I have every type of food at my disposal. I can't wait to be home. To be once again with the world at my disposal. To be free to tell the world how I feel and be anonymous. To express my worries, and my anger. To get answers. To make people happy. To wow them. To make them feel that they are not alone. To stand out. To appear concerned and knowledgeable. To be respected. To be heard.
I am so full of words yet I do not know how to put them. They are all scrambled up in my head though I have used them all. Clinical Depression. It sounds momentous but really it just eases my soul. It makes me feel like all this hurt inside, all this anger is not really my fault. It's in my blood. In my brain. And there is nothing I can do to make it go away. I can't be more outgoing or act nicer to people. There is nothing that will make it go away except drugs. I look forward to taking whatever they give me simply because maybe then I will be able to think. Maybe then I'll be able to express myself clearly. But what if it makes things harder. What if it makes me feel less angry at my mother and everyone else when they really don't deserve it. I don't want to have these feelings that my mind doesn't want to have. Yet I want to have feelings other than confusion, sadness, guilt, worry, hatred, agony, etc. because that's all I feel right now. I have been defeated by my own thoughts, by the chaos that runs through my mind. It confuses me and makes these feelings come out that I know aren't real. I fear their voices when they come home. I fear their thoughts and feelings. I fear their WANTS, NEEDS and DESIRES. I fear tomorrow, the rising of the sun. I don't know why I laugh at stupid shows. Maybe because I feel I should. There's no other explanation for it. Because they're not funny. And I have no reason to appear so happy. They make me sick they're so stupid. Most days now I want to slit my wrists. I have so many chances I don't know why I haven't yet. It's not lack of brevity anymore. It's indecision. It's not wanting to be unsuccessful. It's also that I would not get to see the effect it had on the people around me. It would make me sick to see the effect it had on my parents and sister. I would want to see what affect it had on Cyndi, on Brianna, on the rest of my family. I'd want to see Sarah's reaction, and Ryan's reaction. They're finally home. I have to go because Lisa won't shut the HELL up and I can't stand it. Their happiness makes me sick. My mother's bugging the crap out of me. Lisa has no common sense. I fear that someone will see some part of what I'm typing and wonder. I hate not having privacy. I thrive on privacy. My anger has reached the ceiling and I have no privacy (or the razor) to cut and I'm going to break down. We are going to Epcot tomorrow. I wonder what Michelle will say when she finds out how many times I cut. I plan on cutting many times and deep. I pray to god she doesn't lecture me again like she did the first time I told her because that will only make me want to go do it some more and I won't be able to tell her what made me do it. I want to see the look on her face so badly that I can't stand it and I can't stand the wait until Monday. It makes me sick how my mother doesn't understand that when I don't answer her that she should just bow out and deal with it. She's obviously just making me more angry when she comes back and makes me answer her. Anyhow, my legs hurt so bad that I'm afraid they'll kill me tomorrow but if I say anything to ANYONE I fear they'll just put me down as usual. No doubt about it they'll have to make some crack that I need to walk more or some other smart remark. I'll want to hit them so hard, and then I won't speak to them for the rest of the trip but that's how it is now. I just don't want to provoke the cutting that I already know will happen when we return home at the end of this week of hell which has barely started. I hate that my mother doesn't understand my pain and that it's all a joke to her. She thinks it's all my fault this pain I feel inside and the anger I have towards her. She thinks that if I go to a therapist that they will tell me how to change, what I'm doing wrong and tell me how to be the ideal child. I hate her for that and my father for provoking her. He supports and even speaks for her in some cases about things he knows nothing about. He makes these things up in his head. He believes they are true yet he does not know me or my problems. They are all what he hears come out of my mother's mouth.
Last update: 10-07-2000 23:00
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