I owe a great big thanks to izubotchi. He called me from across the country. I was desperate and scared and needed someone to talk to, even if I did have to pretend to be fine. I couldn’t admit how bad I was feeling because I have to pretend for my grandma. I’m not okay, but I can pretend to be okay for short periods of time. I have to. It is so hard. If I let down my guard I lose everything. I have been threatened so many times. One slip up, that’s all it’d take. I’d go from my miserable little perfect life living with my grandma, (rent free, with my laptop, my television, my stereo, my 100 plus cds, my vcr, my dvd player, my playstation2, my thermal sheets on my big soft bed, a telephone, having some internet access at school and having my own room) to a state hospital for a minimum 6 month stay…with no where to go when, and if I were ever released.

I let some people online see I’m slipping. No one irl knows though. Too big of a chance of my family finding out or the “professionals” finding out. They don’t know what happens online though. Only one person, my bestest friend in the world, sees both the true me and Jennelle, the young woman who goes to class, giggles at all the stupid jokes, has it all together. That’s just not me. It’s an act. That’s it. Just a performance I have to put on every day. High school drama was a prepatory class for life. My best friend and I, who were co-house managers, were always telling the teacher we were going to quit. Left notes on his car “I quit” and on his desk, and in various places. We never walked away though. Stuff needed to get done and there was no one else to do it, so we did it, plus we wanted an A. We’ve always got what needed to be done, done. Despite both of us being mentally ill, these two psychotic depressives always got it done. After all these years we’re still a team. She answers the phone at three am. I’d do anything for her. All she asks from me is to try. She wants me to be okay as much as I want her to be okay. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.

I’ve been cutting a lot lately. I even cut in class on Wednesday. No one even noticed that I was bleeding all over my papers. I tried to get it to stop but the band aid wasn’t enough. My two fingers were bleeding too badly. It was a brand new blade. It felt good. The blood filled the Band-Aids and started leaking through all the tiny air holes within seconds. I was getting blood everywhere. By the time the class was finally over I’d gotten the bleeding to pretty much stop. I then used the hand sanitizer on my hands and wherever I spotted blood. Of course the hand sanitizer is like 62% ethyl alcohol.


Anyone that’s ever put alcohol on open wounds knows what I mean. I know it seems crazy that’d I cut myself, bleed all over the place and then talk about the alcohol hurting. The cutting doesn’t even “hurt” anymore. Not in the way that people understand as pain. It’s a good feeling for me. A relief. It’s not something that’s easy to understand.

Each day is worse than the day before it seems. I just want it to end. I want to cut badly. Deep. So many tears. Crimson tears. Let them flow across the pale skin. It’s getting too much. I’m so scared. I don’t want to go to a hospital. I don’t want to have to live in an institution or a board and care. I want to live somewhere where I can eat what I want, when I want to. I don’t want to live at all. I don’t want to eat. I eat a lot. So much food, juice, candy, cookies, and stuff goes into this body and all I want is to purge. It just shouldn’t be in me. There are people that share this body with me. It makes life so confusing. Some want to eat, some want to throw up. Some want to go to school, some want to kill me. Some try to get me to cut, some try to make me remember bad things but wont let me remember other things. I hate it when I lose time. I do things without knowing I’m doing them, and I don’t remember them later.

I’m scared. And my mind is slowing down. I was thinking okay when I started writing but then it gets harder and harder to think an then all I can think about is the blade. I need to bleed. I need help but there’s no help for bluebird. We’ve tried everything. It’s over; there is no reason to keep fighting.

Saturday morning!

I went out last night! We were going to go to a play at our old high school. It was sold out though. We ended up calling some friends we used to go out with all the time. After several stops, and deciding all the places were too crowded we ended up at a bowling alley to play pool. I drank more than Europa! No one drinks more than her! I had two surfers on acid, two Malibu gins, and sex on the beach. Europa only had four drinks. And I drank part of one of them. I’m really really hyper today. It is like after 9am and I haven’t slept yet. Oh well. I’ll sleep tomorrow or something. Who needs sleep? I’ve got so many things to do now. I’m going to organize everything I own and write a book and do all my school work and write a bunch of nodes and call everyone I know and defrag my hard drive and run scan disk and go through all my floppy disks, and beat that stupid frog on Pac man world 2. (Someone please tell me how!) Then I will write some poems and maybe a story or two and then I will read all those books I have been meaning to read. There’s so many things to do…I better get started!…