2013-11-01 18:33:38 (UTC)

This Is Not Happening

"Through the Glass" by Stonesour

I'm looking at you through the glass
Don't know how much time has passed
Oh God, it feels like forever
But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home
Sitting all alone inside your head
And it's the stars
The stars that shine for you
And it's the stars
The stars that lie to you
How much is real? So much to question
An epidemic of the mannequins
Contaminating everything
When thought came from the heart
It never did right from the start
Just listen to the noises
(No more sad voices)
Before you tell yourself
It's just a different scene
Remember it's just different from what you've seen

[Please read the lyrics. They are branded to my heart. Even if my heart is just an organ that pumps blood throughout my body. Even though it knows no love.]

Friday November 1, 2013 7:37 PM

Weight: I really don't care

I hate saying that my day was horrible. I really do. But I almost burst into tears about ten times today. That's not counting the times I actually did burst into tears.

Why is every day like this?

No where near as bad as today, but that's still bad. I'm not depressed. Nothing bad happened in my life when I was. Can I not win?

I asked for this. The deepest part of me knows I did. I always wanted to be special. I know I am, though. If only to myself, at least I know I'm just a tiny bit special. But still...

My fantasies split real life. I obviously knew what was real and what wasn't. I was living in the real world... the fantasies were in my head, behind my eyes, paper thin.

Still. Half and half. One day, I was raped. Another, my sister was dead. My dad. Mom. Lily died. Ethan died. We got in a car accident. That one was popular. After the accident two years ago, I kept thinking about how terrifying, yet exhilarating, it felt to be at the mercy of speed... of whatever force that caused the car to go spinning into a telephone pole.

Let me start at a few nights ago.

Me: When will dad not have cancer?

Mom: (turns to me) What?

Me: Um... when will dad not have cancer?

Mom: He doesn't have cancer.

Me: What? But at the table, a few weeks ago he said-

Mom: Oh my god. What an idiot. He doesn't have freaking CANCER. Well, he does, but it's benign. God, I can't believe how insensitive he is! Especially after what I went through. Cancer is a traumatic experience.....

She said more. I'm trailing of there because you get the point. My dad lied. Or not exactly he just... What is wrong with him?

And he keeps.. Asking me things. Don't be angry, they say. Never be angry. Veronica, you seem much to angry lately. Are you manic?

No OF COURSE FUCKING NOT I'm not... I'm not bipolar. Please. Stop. Please.

My home life has never been like this. So scattered. With my sister home because of what happened. My parents fighting more and more. Me, not bothering to tell my mom about half the fights me and my dad have in the morning now because I really don't want to drive a wedge between them. And me.

Recovering from depression. A cutter. Extremely insecure. Invisible!!!

I know it could be sooo much worse. So much worse. But I feel like I'm going to implode. I punch and punch and punch and hit and kick my bag until my knuckles bleed. Maybe that's a slight exaggeration. That's only happened twice.

People can't see me. They can see the boring part of me.

And here, I want to tell Lily these things but when I write too much I scribble it out and even then I feel dirty for what I told her.

I feel so dirty. This morning, dad telling me I was a bully. I was teasing Micah, and she was teasing me. The way friends do. But no. Dad got her to leave the room and told me, "You're becoming a bully. You're going down that path. I did not raise you that way."

And then he tried getting me to eat?! What!? No.

I've had so much anxiety lately. I've had to skip meals because of the feelings in my stomach.

And then just now, he walks in all cheery asking if I want to get quesadillas with the family and then says, "Your sister thinks you're anorexic."

No. No, I am not. Yes, people don't see me eat. Yes, I've lost a lot of weight. Yes, I don't like eating. Yes I weigh myself too much. But I know how dangerous all that is. I do. I ate lots today. I ate ice cream and a really disgusting wrap and several carrots and like five handfuls of craisins.

I'm fine.

But by accusing me of all this shit on top if what has happened in my life? Not cool. Nasty school days I can deal with but having this on me all the time is not okay.

It's squashing me. I haven't even written as much as I should.

What is happening? I'm so cold. Not again. Please, not again.