The Shit List
Yesterday Erin writes I hate writing this down because I know people are going to see it.. and I don't know how certain individuals will react.. please just everyone remember that this is for me and not to take it on a personal level. I am just trying to think straight.
FUCK YOU ALL!!
Jesus Fucking Christ. Just when I think I'm over this and there's nothing to be angry about something else comes up.
The day all of this shit broke loose I wanted to kill myself. I mean for the first time in AWHILE I really wanted to die. I hope you all know that. You fucking bunch of assholes. I took a shitload of pills and shot up. (Which had been the first time in WEEKS...) What in the fucking hell did you think was going to happen. Oh, yes...I'm overjoyed to finally be getting the help I need...Yeah fucking right.
You're all so fucking retarded.
BUT I want you assholes to know that you can destroy everything I have, everything that keeps me sane, take away everything I love...Just fucking desecrate me...But I'm not going to fail. Which is essentially what you wanted in the beginning I guess anyway.
I never was going to fail anyway. I CRIED OUT FOR HELP YEARS AGO. Nothing came. No one cared. I learned to deal with it.
I MADE MY OWN FUCKING WAY. And I found my own way to carry on. BY MY SELF!!!.
[sigh] No one will ever understand. I don't care. I don't fucking care.
Today I went to see my shrink again. I didn't want to talk to her. I hate shrinks. I hate counselors. I hate doctors offices and things like that. Because I feel so scrutinized. Everything just weighs down so much and crushes me. Everything comes to the surface whether you want it to or not, even if they don't bring it up there. It just comes for me anyway. Issues I didn' even know I had. At this place it doesn't even seem real. It feels like a movie. I sort of want to talk, but I can't. I feel like my mouth is clamped shut. It's easier to just be apathetic anyway. She must think I'm fucking messed up. Oh well.
Damn, the anger has faded now. [sigh] That sucks. Now its just...me...reduced...slightly to a less angrier me... heh heh heh...
Sooo...let's see. Who the fuck all is going to read this??
Mom? Yeah I'm not angry right now, so...I don't know. It sucks that you read my journal the first time, but whatever. I hate therapy. I hate talking to people. I just hate it. I wish I didn't have to, and I wish I could just be left alone. But, like I said...whatever....And. It sucks that you are still blind. What did you think I was going to do? I don't know how to handle things...
Meihl. You're a bitch. I hate a lot of things about you, and I suppose it is very rude and inappropriate for me to say these things, but these are just my thoughts, and I can think whatever the fuck I want to, and I still think that it was none of your fucking business reading my shit anyway. It was none of anyones fucking business. And even if you did read it...yeah I didn't have it protected...There was no fucking reason to take it as anything other than MY RELEASE... Oh yeah. I think you're a bitch because you take all your fucking problems out on us. And you think just because you're a teacher that gives you the right to treat your students like shit whenever you feel like it. That sucks Meihl, and its been a long time since I've had any respect for you anyway. I'm glad you think you care or some shit, but you need to realize sometimes caring does more harm than good.
Chan. [sigh] I have known you for a long time, and I was very close to you once...I can put myself in your place and realize that I may have done the same thing if I wasn't the fucked up one....I'll get over this all in time.
Erin. My anger toward you has temporarily subsided as well. BUT I think you're a bitch too. AND not everything is about YOU.
And uh...Tina...I wanted to reply to you're little..."watch it Cara..." but I respect Christiane too much to be stupid and petty in her journal or something I don't know. Or I forgot about being angry. So either way I don't care right now, but this isn't your shit at all, so stay out of it, and you have no right to be a bitch to me. So knock it the fuck off. I know you like to think you can be the biggest bitch to everyone and get away with it, but life doesn't quite work that way. And I know you've had it rough, which is why I didn't really expect to be getting any crap from you. I remember when you would come to school with your wrists slit too, so just shut up okay?
um yeah, so I'm done...Oh and here's a list of all the things that have made me the way I am. BUT I realize this, so can I please not have to be in therapy???
I remember having suicidal thoughts ever since I was a little kid. Yeah, bummer. I even wrote this really fucked up poem when I was like ten years old that I didn't even understand at the time. I wanted to die then, and there have been points where I have wanted to die, but I've realized that "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem." so hoo rah for me.
I know I have a future that is better than where I am now. I know I will get there. So...just let me, and stop interfering. You just set me back farther.
Yes, I have not made all of the best choices. "I suck at life" etc. Yes, yes I know. I'm not going to fucking throw away the only thing that will take me out of here. Here being Lewisberry. Here meaning this home. Here being the depression I have sunken into. My future is my ticket away. Don't force me to fuck it up.
My childhood was taken from me, which is probably why I um grew up so fast...yes...That makes sense, right?
So all you assholes. Here it all is. You might as well have all of me to finish tearing apart.
When I was five years old I was molested by a boy my age and his older brother. Repeatedly. For probably a year?
When I was six I was also molested by someone else. He was 11 at the time. This only continued for a few weeks.
Thus the ruination of my childhood.
My father died. That sucks. Probably tons of other issues there.
My mother remarried. Step-families never work. I could write a novel. Lets just say that my step-father has more issues than I do.
Oh yeah...the um...fragmentedness of my sex chromosomes or something...what makes me have issues there...
Also during my childhood...The girls I played with taught me how to masturbate when I was like 5 years old?? We used to do that all the time together....Interesting, huh?
I'm sure there is all kinds of emotional abuse brought on by Edd. He hurt me a lot.
I don't know what else there is really that could fuck somebody up. A lot of crappy things have happened.
People have died, my friends have been ripped away from me. I've been treated like shit...a lot... I've had my heart broken. Etc.
Anyway...I'm not sure why I did this...Maybe I'll print it out and give it to my shrink. Since I can't physically speak to her.
So...this is why sometimes I cry. This is what fills my eyes with the pain you see. And lack of a release/escape is what makes me cut.
I explained this theory already to some people.
One needs...or at least I need...
1) A Release
2) An Escape
A release is a way to let go of your feelings, vent, if you will...Just get rid of emotions, deal with things, Release them.
Cutting is a release, so is crying, or writing, or talking about things, or breaking things, or whatever one may do...
An escape is a way to get away from everything that sucks. Running away from your problems.
Sex was an escape, as was any drug, or any activity at all that pushed aside the present feeling of shittiness. This could have even included doing the normal things I did to get away, which were 99% not illegal... (going to movies, getting a bite to eat somewhere...just spending time with friends)
Anyway, I think everyone is running from their problems all the time anyway. Even if you have an escape or a release that is "healthy" or normal, you never really get rid of things. Its all on a day to day basis. You can run for so long, but as soon as you stop your problems and everything you're afraid of catches up. Anyway, so I think I'm just the same as everyone else.
And I think I have a right to sometimes feel like shit.
The end.