(no subject)
hmmm...I just accidentally stumbled across my own journal in my morningly look at other, more interesting journals. I've decided that this needs a little spicing up. Unfortunately for you all, I have absolutely no idea of how I might enhance this journal.
I'll start this mornings rant by talking about school. What about school, Rabbit? Well, it's pretty much the same as last year. We lost some characters and we gained some, but the overall atmosphere is the same. We already had our first group. For privacy reasons, I won't give names. Let's just say that I HATE groups. We almost had a second one that same day, but it never happened, thank god. Not a whole lot interesting has been happening at school. I guess if you really want to find out more about it, you can look at some of the later entries from last school year. I started going to this school around Feb. or March when I was unable to attend my regular high school.
For those of you who don't know, I'm a bit whacked. I guesse it really started to get bad when I was ten. Even before then, however, I was pleading to dead air for my life to end, to ignorant to even think of suicide. Ah, the young and ignorant. How easy they have it. When I was ten, I found another way to escape my pain. It started out small. I would bite my hand when standing in the corner, put there for defiance of my teacher. She was my mother, for pete's sake. How could I not defy her. Alright, alright, I will admit I went to far with the whole defiance thing. Back then I fear that my mental illness controlled me. Anyway, as I was saying, it started out small. I have no idea where it jumped from biting etc. to using actually instruments. Eventually, my mother began to suspect that something was amiss. Even when she questioned me about self-mutilation, I was unaware that I had been doing any such thing. I slowly figured it out, and the no's I told her changed for ignorant no's to no's of protection for my only way of making myself feel good. One winter's day, I accepted to myself that I had a problem, and that I needed to get help. I told my parents what I had been doing, and was sentenced to see a psychologist. At that time, I feared psychologists, but I was willing to accept anything that might help. I was thirteen. Three years had passed since I began the horrible habit. Little did I know, at that point, what I had done. I stopped the acts and was soon able to convince my parents that I didn't need a shrink. I wasn't toying with them. I thought it was all over. Over the summer, it all fell apart again.
I'll have to finish this at a later date. I don't know if this spiced up the journal at all, but it was all I could think of to write. Hope you enjoyed it. See ya! Stay scarily horny.
-Rabbit
I'll start this mornings rant by talking about school. What about school, Rabbit? Well, it's pretty much the same as last year. We lost some characters and we gained some, but the overall atmosphere is the same. We already had our first group. For privacy reasons, I won't give names. Let's just say that I HATE groups. We almost had a second one that same day, but it never happened, thank god. Not a whole lot interesting has been happening at school. I guess if you really want to find out more about it, you can look at some of the later entries from last school year. I started going to this school around Feb. or March when I was unable to attend my regular high school.
For those of you who don't know, I'm a bit whacked. I guesse it really started to get bad when I was ten. Even before then, however, I was pleading to dead air for my life to end, to ignorant to even think of suicide. Ah, the young and ignorant. How easy they have it. When I was ten, I found another way to escape my pain. It started out small. I would bite my hand when standing in the corner, put there for defiance of my teacher. She was my mother, for pete's sake. How could I not defy her. Alright, alright, I will admit I went to far with the whole defiance thing. Back then I fear that my mental illness controlled me. Anyway, as I was saying, it started out small. I have no idea where it jumped from biting etc. to using actually instruments. Eventually, my mother began to suspect that something was amiss. Even when she questioned me about self-mutilation, I was unaware that I had been doing any such thing. I slowly figured it out, and the no's I told her changed for ignorant no's to no's of protection for my only way of making myself feel good. One winter's day, I accepted to myself that I had a problem, and that I needed to get help. I told my parents what I had been doing, and was sentenced to see a psychologist. At that time, I feared psychologists, but I was willing to accept anything that might help. I was thirteen. Three years had passed since I began the horrible habit. Little did I know, at that point, what I had done. I stopped the acts and was soon able to convince my parents that I didn't need a shrink. I wasn't toying with them. I thought it was all over. Over the summer, it all fell apart again.
I'll have to finish this at a later date. I don't know if this spiced up the journal at all, but it was all I could think of to write. Hope you enjoyed it. See ya! Stay scarily horny.
-Rabbit