ʜ ᴇ ᴏ ʟ s ᴛ ᴏ ʀ

I am going to write this while I still have battery in my laptop left because the charger cable is pretty much fucked. Well, no – it’s not yet. Would that mean it’s fucking? Hmm, now there’s a thought. I have forty minutes remaining – better make the most of the situation, aye?

My life feels like a fucking joke right now. Everyone seems to insinuate that is.. so then, maybe it is a joke? Is it? A joke? Oh, ha ha – how amazing, how funny and delightful. How very fucking funny. I feel like anything I try to do is just a fucking joke. And I’m tired, so very fucking tired. I’m fed up with this place and I hate how I have to keep coming back to it. It reminds me of the person I do not want to be. It reminds me of the fucked up childhood – a massive play consisting mainly of villains with no heroes or help.

And I’m the Ophelia – screaming to myself in the corner and singing and no one hears me. No one had ever heard me.

I hate the person I am. I hoped that leaving my hometown would help me find myself; seek out the person I’m meant to be. The person who’s been trapped all these years, thanks to a certain amount of people – but I feel just a lost. I’m still the stupid little girl, I just changed locations.

And that makes me feel sad. I feel like I’ll always be running from what I used to be and still won’t be any further forward. I just want to get lost. I need to find someone. I need someone to fuck, someone I can lose myself in and just not care anymore. I just want to cry and scream and yell.

Because until then, I’m silent and it’s slowly killing me inside.

I’m cold, I’m ill. I’m rather sick right now. I’ve always been sick, I guess. Or maybe I’m not and it’s all in my head? Am I being melodramatic? Or just painfully honest to myself?

My brain hurts, every muscle aches. My skin grows hot then cold and I’m restless.

I hate being me.

I should sleep.

I have things to do tomorrow.

Counting down the days and I can return to my shit flat with my shit flatmates and shit life.
I feel terribly lonely.

The world is quiet here.

it is a beautiful day
and i'm inside.
again.
always watching the world behind the window pane.

I am going to write something, nto done anything relatively creative in some time. One hundred words on... the sky. Go.



Hello, you are the universe’s most commonly used metaphor.

I don’t blame them; you’re rather big and never seem to end.

Tell me, how far do you stretch?

Do you ever stop?

You’ve been around for some time; it feels like you could be my oldest friend. We’ve been through so much together, you know.

We’ve shared our emotions with one another: I stood beneath you and watched as you wept. I stood and stared at you when you seemed cold and empty and found myself screaming at you when I felt life wasn’t fair.

Oh sky, don’t leave me.

oh, everybody’s starry eyed,
and my body goes woah oh oh!

I love this song so much, thank you so much for introducing me to it, Matty. I can listen to it for hours on end, zone out as if it never really ends and it just goes on and on and on. I escape in my music a lot these days.

I escape through anything. Because anything is better than this shit thing I call a life.
Everything all went boom last Friday, I spent most of the day crying and ranting and pacing. My flatmates are animals and I’m rather unhappy about my living conditions. But after all these years, I’ve dealt with all kinds of hurt and rejection and typical bullying. And now, I just don’t seem to care – everything goes on around me and I just seem to block out and not care about it anymore.

I know, it’s always going to happen. Whether I’m the tiny little child having sawdust shoved down the back of her jumper at Nursery; the bruised and cut teenager trying to pull herself free from the thorn bush she was shoved into whilst wiping the coke someone spat in her face, or the miserable student being kept awake all night and having her food stolen from the kitchen cupboards – I know it’s going to keep happening. There’ll always be someone there to make my life a complete and utter misery.

But I can’t keep it all bottled up forever. And my friends are never always there. And this is where I truly feel alone and feel like I have no one to talk to. Not a single friend. And who do you turn to when you’re so desperate to talk and rant to? Who’s the only person I have left in the world? My mother. So I called and ranted. And she got mad. And she wants me to move and I suddenly realise what I’ve done.

I don’t like to complain. I know that if I kick up a fuss and people try to intervene with the situation, it just gets worse. It always gets worse.

I remember after being tormented by two sisters at school, I told the teachers. They called the girls’ parents. I then remember being chased home by the two girls and their mother after school. I’d never been so terrified in all my life and I knew that if I didn’t stop running, they would hurt me. Even the police failed to do anything, and I lost all faith in authority.
And the worst part was that I had a date. So I was on the phone to various relatives and friends trying to be calmed down after the massive row I’d had with my mother. And I couldn’t stop crying. The tears just kept pouring out. I finally managed to stop and leave for this date.

And it goes brilliant, we have a laugh and he has his arms around me trying to cheer me up and then I end up kissing him. And it’s brilliant, and I feel so relieved and nothing else ever matters and I can forget about what’s going on. And what happens? She phones me again. And I end up crying again. But that’s okay because he just holds on to me and makes me feel better. And I forget again.

He didn’t mind the tears or the streaky make-up or the puffy eyes. He just pulls me close and kisses my forehead and I feel so calm.

I loved that night. Even though the day started so shit, it ended in such a way I don’t think I’d like to ever forget it. I didn’t want it to end.

We made up, but sometimes I get the feeling I don’t want to be home and I feel so nervous. I don’t like it. I don’t know where I belong anymore.

Friend bailed on me. Never felt so hurt about it, I’m gutted. I understand, I really do. I know what she means when she told me. But it doesn’t stop me from being hurt and really mad about it. Not talking right now, I need time to cool off.

I’m fed up with being treated like a child. Like I can’t do what I want to do and no one seems to tell me anything because they seemed scared to how I’d react. Like everyone’s treading on eggshells around me. I hate it when people are like that; it just makes me feel as if something’s wrong with me and everyone treats me different. Special, even.

I am not special. I’m nothing. I’m just... me, I guess.

I also recently discovered that I am O Positive. Oh, the irony.

Yes, yes.. well. Rambled enough. I have work tomorrow and I should sleep. I like sleep.

Well... I tried. Last Friday. And it turned into a bit of a car crash, nearly. Not a total car crash, but yeah. It was the most awkward conversation in my life, I kid you not. I was just stood there; not knowing what the fuck I should say and when it all comes out, it’s like vomit – messy and blunt. I’m amazed I didn’t start crying, I felt like it – but I don’t think that would have helped either of us.

I cried later instead. In private.

It felt good.

It wasn’t all that bad though, seems our friendship is treasured more than anything else. But that’s okay, cos I wouldn’t want to lose that either. I hate to lose friends. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being even more alone that I already am. I am a pretty lonely person, but sinking any lower than that and it’s just bleak.

I feel better now, like something’s shifted and I can get on with my life now – I’ve been thinking about this shit for a few months now. It feels good to finally have the courage to say something, even if it means being single for an unknown amount of time longer. Ha.

Went out on Monday night and got insanely drunk. Stood on glass, broke my phone and got spooked by some lad who was rather keen on me. Oh god, why do I always attract the Chavs and weird ones? Oh god, oh god. I actually had an adrenaline rush and fucking ran for it. Seriously, I’ve never had one like it, I just fucking ran. In a choice of fight or flight – I fucking flew. It was like my feet barely touched the ground, for one brief moment, I was untouchable.

But then my feet found the ground and I felt dirty and wrong. And I could feel a panic in my chest and suddenly I can’t seem to breathe. I went for a shower, desperate to get this guy off my skin and I’m inhaling in the steam and it doesn’t seem to calm me down like normal and I get even more worked up. And I can’t hear the water, just the sound of me trying to take in air – quick, loud, panicked breaths. Oh God...

I don’t know how I got changed again. But I knew I still looked a state by the time Sam and Lloyd got back. I must have looked fucking awful.

I’ve not had a panic attack in a year; I almost forgot what they felt like.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling, like the walls are closing in and they’re pressing in on you. And you’re breathing, you’re hyperventilating but not a single molecule of oxygen is entering your lungs. You’re breathing, but you just can’t seem to breathe. Your head goes all light, like it’s floating away from you and you can’t seem to think straight. You can barely hear or see – it’s like all your senses have cut themselves off. You can still touch, and all you seem to do it grab and cling onto someone – desperate to feel something stable. The need to feel safe has never been more urgent in your life.

I can’t remember how long it lasted. It was a bit of a blur. What I do remember is Sam managing to get my breathing back to normal – which I’ve never been more relieved or thankful for.

Had another two on Tuesday. No one was there to help me, which made it much more scarier.

My phone started to work again. Thank fuck. It plays up occasionally, but m’hoping it won’t be too frequent.

I should get started on my next essays or something. I don’t have anything better to do this weekend. Blah.

Lion heart?

Yeah, right.

I’m such a chicken, I can’t do anything right. I nearly did. I nearly said what I wanted to say, but I bottled. Great. Just fantastic. I’m never gonna make anything happen at this rate – and it just makes me more frustrated and sad. This sucks. Real bad.

Got accommodation for next year, but now I need to come up with the money for it. Jesus, I never realised it would be this difficult. Life is so fucking hard – and I already have enough to deal with. I wish my Mum would just let me get a loan. Maybe stuff would be easier that way – I don’t care about this ‘debt’ – it’s pretty much non-existent to be honest. Ugh. I don’t need this.

Today was... interesting. I think I might start to like my Fridays now. Although, note to self - be more punctual. Ten minutes before I leave is not the best time to have an argument with my hair. Felt stupid being sat by myself – also, why do I have to sit so weird in chairs? It does not make me look cool in any way – it also makes my backside go numb beyond belief.

Mum just rang. Great. Now I’m in tears. Definitely no loan. I just don’t need this right now. I’m just fed up with everything.
I don’t wanna write any more. Later.

I have not posted in a while, it’s rather bad but oh well. I supposed what’s the point of posting when your heart’s not in it. Or you might not have anything to write about. Not much has really happened I suppose. I’ve finished my final essay and handed it in. It’s probably a load of shit full of nothing but historical content. I don’t care anymore. I’m not in the mood to care about stuff right now.

I wish I didn’t dream about dead relatives. Or would just get a decent night’s sleep these days. I just want to dream of something happy and good. No death. No sex. No horror. I’m depraved and it affects everything – right down to the bone. I can’t breathe sometimes. And it gets to me and I dream of stupid, selfish shit that I don’t want to think about. I wake up in the morning in a cold, uncomfortable sweat and I just hate myself a little more.
I just want it to go away sometimes, each little thing makes me feel a little more tainted. Sleep should be untouched – dreams should be when you’re flying and you’re untouchable. You can reach out and touch what’s.... what’s good.

I wish my life wasn’t so fucking complicated.

I thought tonight was going well. I really did. But then... Things were said that I wish I had replied to. God I wish I could have the guts to say something. I’m sick of being so shy and scared to speak. I feel miserable now. Overly miserable. So miserable. God, I wish I could be something better – that I could just say something – just what I felt. I feel like I’ll be stuck like this forever. Always alone and not uttering a word. Not a whisper. Always in my head.

And so I end up being sat outside in the freezing cold, smoking cigarettes I don’t normally smoke and whining and that to friends – begging for advice. What do I do? What the hell am I supposed to do? I wish I could just scream. I need to scream. Lock me away in a place and I’ll scream until I can’t breathe anymore.

I don’t have a clue now. I feel like I’m running in circles every time. It gets better and then by the end – I feel like shit.

I hate being me sometimes.

I’m losing.

God, I'm so fucking cold right now. I can't feel my fingers.

I'm in so much pain right now. I hate being female. It puts me off eating and doing anything productive. I just want to curl up inside myself and die. This seriously puts me off from ever having children. Someone hand me a spoon, I got a womb to carve outta me. Ugh.

Well, at least this explains the recent hormone see-saw. Should realised. Hmm. Oh well.
I should go take a hot bath, might feel a bit better.

My game died on me last night, I wanted to cry. I'd just gotten onto my favourite level and the cut scene starts playing up. There’s not speech to it. So I’m like: “Ugh, skip plz..” and I try to skip the cut scene. And what happens? Nothing. It stops working. Fuck sake. I had to turn it off. So fucking fed up.

Then I started playing The Sims for my PS2 – oh god, it’s so bad it’s good. But only for a little while. When I finally moved in with Mimi she does fuck all but snore and make more mess. Jesus Christ, she won’t even answer the goddamn phone. Bitch. Fuck off, Mimi. You’re a loser. I’m trying my best. And Bingo, won’t even talk to me – what the fuck. You’re a twat. I’m just trying to make friends you retard. This game is retarded.

Anyway.

I still have dinner left over, I want to eeeeat it.

I need to tidy my room too, and make sure everything is sorted for moving back to Sunderland at the end of next week. And write my last assignment. Fucking hell – so much to do and so little time I’m actually awake during the day. I didn’t fall asleep until after 6am (again) and then didn’t get up until after 3pm (again). I wish I could sleep normal hours. This sucks.

I’m still tired.

Okay, I think I should just chill the fuck out tonight. Being Human is on later, yesss.

Life begins tomorrow.

I don't feel like sleeping. It’s nearly 7am and I don’t feel like sleeping. I don’t feel like sleeping because I need to vent. I won’t sleep until I’ve vented.

I watched The Lovely Bones and cried through much of it. But this isn’t going to be some sort of film review. It did affect me and I know my feelings are now running a little too high for my liking. But I cried and when I first tried to put my head down to sleep I felt like crying again and needed to start writing. I said it a long time ago that I had to stop crying and I’m quite clearly failing these days because I fail at most things. But I know that if I rant these feelings out in word form, I might not feel so bad and might feel a little better about myself. I’m now waffling, but whatever – I can’t stop my fingers.

It’s 7.00am – fucking hell. Gotta keep writing.

I’m wondering... will anyone remember me? Will I still talk to my flatmates after this year? Or my course mates... will they have anything to do with me ever again? I don’t find myself t be a very striking person. I’m not attention grabbing or I don’t seem to leave any kind of imprint in people’s memories; I’m not interesting at all. I’m the kind of person people might prefer to forget about. I’m the girl who people don’t remember my name. No one remembers me. Lost girl. Forgotten girl. Dead girl.

I feel like I’m in a huge room full of people and I’m screaming for people to pay attention to me. No one bats an eyelid. I’m just so frustrated and alone.

I’m trying so hard, I want to be remembered – but I feel like I’m pushing people away and nobody will ever want to know.

I always do that. I push people away. Friends and at least three boyfriends – all gone because of me. Maybe it was them, but I know it was probably me. I don’t mean to. I hate it. I get lonely and don’t have anyone to talk to. I’ll never get another boyfriend – what I wouldn’t do just to hear a boy tell me that they loved me. I’d sell my soul.

God, I feel so pathetic. Why the fuck can’t I just shut up?

For fucks sake, you’re a pathetic excuse. I need to get a fucking grip. Shut up!

Go to bed, and get a life. It’s not gonna happen from a livejournal.

Yes, yes, yes.. I suppose.

I’m so fed up. Somebody please, for the love of god – save me.

Sleep.

I remember I woke up around 6am, I’d scratched my leg to fuck. Fuck, not again! Why am I always doing this? My head hurt. It felt like a bad dream, a drum pounding the back of my skull with every beat of my heart. Oh, it hurts. I need nurofen. Done. Must get back to sleep now, sleep is good. I know I’m tired, because weird things start to be said in my head.

“David Bowie’s washing machine.” What the fuck.

Okay, back to sleep again.

I stayed in bed way too long again. But when there's nothing worth getting up for, what do you do? I decided the only thing that's worth doing is not giving a damn about what's going on outside and wallowing in your dreams. Because despite being so weird and slightly disturbing - my dreams are fucking awesome.

Shower curtains that feel like cling film, can’t get a decent shower – and why is everyone watching me? Go away! Stop looking at me! It’s creepy, it’s not right... just stop watching me. Towel. Out. Run. Through a maze of dust and old items, I forgot where my room is. Where did my room go? Oh God, and they’re following me. Two men. Go away. I don’t want you here. I know what they want from me, but they’re not having it. I try not to think about it, become blissfully ignorant of their intentions.

Find a room, my room. Lock the door, they won’t get in now. No. I won’t let them. It’s pink, everything’s pink. It’s horrible and ugly - terribly old-fashioned. Ugh. I’ve got to get out of here, got to save myself – no one else seems to be listening to me, I’m shouting at the top of my lungs what they’re trying to do, but no one seems to be listening. No one seems to care. Change. There’s a second door, take it, get out.

There’s stairs, lots of stairs. This house seems to go on forever. Where’s the door out? There’s another girl, not a little girl – a girl like me. I know her, somehow. But who is she? I feel like I’ve known her for a long time. A forgotten lover, I can’t see her face. I tell her I have to go. I tell her I’m sorry. I kiss her and tell her I have to go before they find me.

And suddenly I’m outside; I’m running across the car park of my High School. Oh god, not this fucking place again. I can’t even escape from it in my dreams. The sun’s high in the sky, a lazy afternoon – everything’s a warm orange and the sky looks so clear and blue. And I stop running, he’s got me. The younger of the two men. I can see his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes. They’re so blue, it’s unnatural. Perfect blue, it’s so unsettling and beautiful at the same time. I’m scared. Where did the dress come from? I didn’t put it on.. and I’m wearing it. It’s come straight from the 19th Century. It looks creepy. I don’t like it.

I’m on the stairs again. People are unhappy, they shout, they riot. There’s a riot going on inside my head – inside my dream. Fuck. I have to get away. I’m starting back, down on my hands and knees, trying to crawl through a space – trying to hide, trying to escape. But he won’t give up. I kick him. Head butting the supports of the house and it starts to crumble around me – but I don’t care. Everything’s falling down, I think I broke it.

And I can hear Florence, it’s my alarm. I’m awake. I’m lying in bed, half-awake. Everything’s warm and dry and safe. I can hear voices, nothing that concerns me. What a strange dream. Huh.

As I write this, I’m sat on the train. But that doesn’t matter because I don’t have any internet and so I’ll have to copy and paste this from Word to my livejournal. But yes, I’m on the train – go me! Going home for a week or so to be spoilt – being spoilt for me is not defined by not having to buy my own shopping and having central heating in the house to keep me warm that goes off at appropriate times.

My head hurts and my legs ache. I had to run in order to catch my train because it’s a bitch and decides to be five minutes early. Ugh. Legs are so, so sore. I want a hot bath.

I look like a drowned rat, it was raining in Newcastle. But that’s okay, because I now own Maus and a new Doctor Who novel. God, I fucking love Forbidden Planet. I’d live in there if I could. I’d eat the shit posters for sustenance and burn all the Twilight merchandise for warmth. Mint. Sounds like a plan – who’s with me? Probably no one. No one likes Forbidden Planet. Well, apart from one person. Maybe I’ll ask him, and then he can have all the Batman comics he wants.

Ugh, just saw my reflection in the window, I look like shit. Hair everywhere, it’s still a bit damp. It smells like the rain, it smells nice. It mixes with my perfume and smells good. On a second glance, maybe I don’t look too bad. My nose is a little shiny, but I don’t think my eyeliner or mascara has run – no, I don’t think I look that bad.

The food trolley is right beside me. They have bottles of wine. Tempted. Very tempted.
It’s dark outside. I don’t know where I am, not home yet anyways. Somewhere Inbetween. I’m stuck in the Inbetween.

.. this bra makes my chest look freaking huge. I could balance a bottle or something..

Everyone seems to have a can of Stella. I want one. Not really, I’ll settle for Strongbow and black. Or some wine. I’ll be your best friend forever if you give me wine.

I wonder if I’m nearly home yet. Better shut this thing down. Might write some more later. Ho hum.

Later. <3

I’m home.

And, I love this song.

There is love in your body but you can't hold it in
It pours from your eyes and spills from your skin
Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks
And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts

There is love in your body but you can't get it out
It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth
Sticks to your tongue and shows on your face
That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste

Darling heart, I loved you from the start
But you'll never know what a fool I've been
Darling heart, I loved you from the start
But that's no excuse for the state I'm in