gravity of love.
Today... today, something cracked inside me.
I don't know what, I don't know how, I don't know when.
But I know I am so close. Dancing on the edge of a metaphorical razor, so to speak. I'm so close to going back to my old ways, and I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
School is getting too much. I can't handle the workload, the pressure, or their new fucking rules. It's a public school and they're putting stupid rules in place that shouldn't be there. Uniform is enough... but to make it so the chicks have to wear nothing under their fucking see-through shirts? Get fucked. I am not subjecting myself to the hormones of teenage boys. I refuse to be sexually harassed and have you lazy sods do nothing about it.
I can't stand it at home. My parents are pressuring me into getting my math at an impossible level because they want me to skip a grade. My brother is a fucking jerk; last week he got in shit at school for swearing and pinned it on my music. Needless to say, I can't listen to half of my iTunes library while he's in the general area. The fucking douche spends every waking moment in front of a screen... and our house is far from big as it is.
I had an argument with my dad this afternoon, because my mum went off at me because the school is fucked. They made me wear some raggedy old maroon shirt for my school photo, because my white button-down [part of uniform, may I say] wasn't bought for fifty/sixty dollars and didn't have the school logo on it. We don't have a lot of money. We can't afford that amount of money for a piece of see-through material that will be ruined in three months.
That's how it started, anyway. Then I wanted to sit down at the computer and do my homework later, when my brother goes to bed... but no. No fucking way is that acceptable, even if that's what we do every week. So, I yelled, I screamed, and the same thing happened to me. I ran into my room in tears, came out twice to pick up my bag and binder and whatnot so they thought I as doing my homework.
Really? I had a belt around my neck. And I was so fucking close... but then I fucking pussied out like the cowardly cunt I am. I sat there and I just hit my wrist against the floor... and it hurt so fucking much, and it still does. It's like a bump, and then all bruised and red and I hope to fucking high hell someone will notice and ask me what happened, just so I can tell them that I fucked it up doing something else.
Maybe I could slip in my sudden desire to starve myself too.
But you know what I did, when I had that belt around my neck this afternoon? While I was bawling my eyes out and choking on air and everything else? I put on my Negative mix on my CD player. The one with all the slow songs, the sad songs. Still Alive is the first track... and I don't know why, and I don't know who the fuck in their right mind would let a fucking... bitch like me live, but somehow they did.
Something in that song and the ones that followed made me take that belt off from around my neck. Soemthing about those songs made me stop trying to break my wrist against the floor.
I don't know what, I don't know how, I don't know when.
But I know I am so close. Dancing on the edge of a metaphorical razor, so to speak. I'm so close to going back to my old ways, and I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
School is getting too much. I can't handle the workload, the pressure, or their new fucking rules. It's a public school and they're putting stupid rules in place that shouldn't be there. Uniform is enough... but to make it so the chicks have to wear nothing under their fucking see-through shirts? Get fucked. I am not subjecting myself to the hormones of teenage boys. I refuse to be sexually harassed and have you lazy sods do nothing about it.
I can't stand it at home. My parents are pressuring me into getting my math at an impossible level because they want me to skip a grade. My brother is a fucking jerk; last week he got in shit at school for swearing and pinned it on my music. Needless to say, I can't listen to half of my iTunes library while he's in the general area. The fucking douche spends every waking moment in front of a screen... and our house is far from big as it is.
I had an argument with my dad this afternoon, because my mum went off at me because the school is fucked. They made me wear some raggedy old maroon shirt for my school photo, because my white button-down [part of uniform, may I say] wasn't bought for fifty/sixty dollars and didn't have the school logo on it. We don't have a lot of money. We can't afford that amount of money for a piece of see-through material that will be ruined in three months.
That's how it started, anyway. Then I wanted to sit down at the computer and do my homework later, when my brother goes to bed... but no. No fucking way is that acceptable, even if that's what we do every week. So, I yelled, I screamed, and the same thing happened to me. I ran into my room in tears, came out twice to pick up my bag and binder and whatnot so they thought I as doing my homework.
Really? I had a belt around my neck. And I was so fucking close... but then I fucking pussied out like the cowardly cunt I am. I sat there and I just hit my wrist against the floor... and it hurt so fucking much, and it still does. It's like a bump, and then all bruised and red and I hope to fucking high hell someone will notice and ask me what happened, just so I can tell them that I fucked it up doing something else.
Maybe I could slip in my sudden desire to starve myself too.
But you know what I did, when I had that belt around my neck this afternoon? While I was bawling my eyes out and choking on air and everything else? I put on my Negative mix on my CD player. The one with all the slow songs, the sad songs. Still Alive is the first track... and I don't know why, and I don't know who the fuck in their right mind would let a fucking... bitch like me live, but somehow they did.
Something in that song and the ones that followed made me take that belt off from around my neck. Soemthing about those songs made me stop trying to break my wrist against the floor.