feedback loops of bruises coloured blue

-35

the worst day in a while.

even worse than the day that you slipped up and ripped yourself open. even that was only a -20. you were so tired then but you stopped yourself and got rid of them after that first one.

you thought you were doing better but don't fool yourself.

a always says that this game of tallying up points for events is unhealthy. honestly, she's right. especially since you're hiding in a fucking bathroom to type this all out. can you even make it to tuesday without ruining everything.

you're just a fuck up. you always have been and you're kind of always a bitch. nobody wants to be friends with you, honestly.

you're a mess.

normal people don't act, don't react, like that.

you're never going to get close to anyone. everything you try is too little too late. there's honestly no point in even trying anything.

it's fucking ridiculous to feel like shit and like you're not worth anything at all when just a few days ago you were telling a that your week was an eight. why can't you figure out how to not be a disappointment to everyone you know.

there's an empty space in your drawer at home. it should scare you, how easily the thought of wanting those instruments back slides into your mind. you don't need to be here, burdening everyone you ever cared about and taking up space by existing.

maybe if you wait long enough everyone will forget you and be all the better for it.

and where he ended up no one knew

The picture of you in my mind is hazy. There are so many little details that I've forgotten: your height against mine, the exact shape of your smile, the spikes of your hair, the cadence of your voice and the tones of your laughter, the gestures you would make.

But there are some things that aren't so easy to forget. Some things that time can't blur from memory.

It's easy to remember you. A wonderful person with a good heart who welcomed so many of us into a home when we didn't know we needed it, who inspired us to enjoy life.

Forever eighteen, so brilliantly alive and vibrant.

Is it unfair of me to say this? It must be infinitely harder for the others. But even so...

Seven years has gone so fast. I've lived more of my life without you than I did with you.

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

don't waste your time on me

Things I'm apparently really good at: fucking up and giving myself a fuckton of emotional pain.

I don't have the time or the energy for this, but it still hurts to think about the way that you abandoned me. It shouldn't because this is all so fucking stupid, and if that was the road that you wanted to take then I'm better off, right? But it hurts because even though I would never force that on you, when it comes right down to it, I wanted you to be on my side.

I fucking miss you. Do you even care?

and many countless days later

i spoke to V on Sunday night for the first time in three? years. honestly, i wasn't really sure if we'd ever come back to each other especially since we haven't met often. but she's been there for me through... a lot of things. a lot of years.

i've been thinking a lot since then. the guilt and resentment weighs, thick and heavy and cloying. everyone was so worried. they tried to help but they couldn't understand.

there was a time where i didn't have the words to talk about myself. where i didn't understand myself. where i was more anxiety than myself. more scared of myself than anything else.

a time where the only thing i knew to do was to either lash out or hide it.

sometimes it's easy to touch and just imagine. what if, once more, would it help?

the scars may have faded but i know they were there.

there was (is?) a time where that was the only thing that helped.

seasons come and seasons go

I haven't thought about REC in so long really, even though I have photos up in my room, but when P said that some of the videos were online, so many things suddenly came rushing back.

Thursday and Sunday practises. Spending holiday breaks painting. Chicken shop chips and milk bar chocolate and Yumba juice. The times that I skinned my knee while B carried me from F block to the gym. Watching T light an entire box of matches on fire. 5AM wake ups for 6AM bus rides. L coming in to help out. Having first rehearsal and being the hidden performance. So much time for hair and make up, being teased, ribbons bobby-pinned, "My face is cracking off". Costume hunting. Lollipops and snacks galore. Freaking out over dead batteries for lights. Tetris and Space Invaders. C and M having a size argument over a tiny pair of shorts. A simultaneous sense of superiority and camaraderie. "10 points if you close on H." A cannon in canon. Being taped so tightly it felt like circulation was being cut off. Sets in sheds. Sitting in car parks. Competitions and S crowd surfing. "Do we get changed side-stage or behind stage?" Icicles and grass packs. Follow The Leader and conga lines. Newspaper weddings. The dunce cap. K having a meltdown and everyone being lectured by M, and K coming back and I'm sorry, you guys are awesome. Astro Boy and elephants. "That's such a Rocka move."

The nerves and the screaming until our throats were hoarse because we, just like everyone else, wanted, so badly.

So many memories that I can't believe I ever forgot.

And always, always, One More Time.

is it this way or that way?

if you have a complex it's because everyone keeps leaving.

the name calling and violence and rejection may have dulled but it's not so easy to forget.

you still remember.

you know the truth.

nobody can know just how deeply personal your self-loathing is.

whether it's sweat or tears

i can't sleep but what else is new?
why do i keep coming back?
why can't i just leave?
it goes around and around and i'm the one who looks a fool
please just let me breathe

my steps go nowhere i scratched it from my memory

Is it you who changed
Or is it I who changed
...
We’re the ones who’ve changed I guess
Everyone is like that I guess

Vacant room in my memory
This lunatic night swallows me 

i don't know when things suddenly started tumbling down and no matter how much i look for something it doesn't work 

i keep going back to trying to believe that YNWA but why burden others when they have their own lives to deal with 

things are still so much one step forward two steps back that is it really that happiness is too rare too lofty a goal 

a lot of times i'm not sure if i can achieve it or hold on to it 

if i am happy now it must be fleeting

i'm so scared i can't breathe that it kills me inside that i wish it would just end 

while i'm running alone on tracks in a place that's been left the call of the void becomes increasingly inviting

if i ever knew i've long since forgotten

it's one long night that i'm passing through

it's okay to be angry and never let go//it only gets harder the more that you know 

i've never been so thankful to be on a break before. even the kids were starting to look at me funny. at least now i don't have to pretend that every thing is peachy, sunnyperfectdon'tletthemknowsmileyou'refine. keep it in even when you feel like your face is burning off. i had enough practise at that, once. 

it's been a long time since i blogged this frequently. i guess i never felt like i needed to hide so much these past years. i know that i'm slipping back to a bad place but the last thing i want to do is lay it out for everyone else again. they shouldn't be dragged down just because i can't get it together.

being blue is better than being over it

...right?

I don't want to forget.