ʜ ᴇ ᴏ ʟ s ᴛ ᴏ ʀ

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.

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 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.