what's been going on:

it is difficult to look at some of these posts
- whether i'm proud for mild bravery or irritated at struggles, i rarely look at this .. but it serves as a reminder of who i was, who i will become because of it, and what i still have to get over, therefore i won't get rid of it, it's for me.

this, however, is who i am now
and who i have been properly expressed since February 2009


and until i need a reminder, a boost, a confirmation on what i was doing, what
i went through from 2006 on less and less.
phew!

Alright,

writesleepcreatelaughhugcreatesleepwritereadeatsleepcreatecreatecreatecreate.

next week,
mentally prepare yourself.
next week,
physically prepare yourself.
next week,
be prepared.
next week will be okay.

I'm done.

And I'm reaching out to you because I've reached my breaking point, again. See, the first time I went to Columbus, I needed ultimate escape. I couldn't handle things here anymore and the six hours I was away, it wasn't raining so hard on my head. I was able to see clearly and I lasted awhile, hopping in and out of escape when I could. But now, I'm back to my breaking point and though the most recent cut on my arm has almost entirely healed, I'm at my breaking point. I'm going back to Columbus for escape but it's entirely different now.

And I expect you not to mishandle the situation. You seem sincere, strangely sincere. I'll put aside all assumptions and be entirely sincere too. Because I'm at my breaking point and I need to get away. I need my escape again and you offered. Be prepared, I mean it when I say I need it.

Please.

I'm back to slicing

And I need to be writing it here - the kids don't care and that bothers me.
In a way, I moved locations with my words so people would love me.
I did.
I figured, well, I'm not getting any attention over here so I'll go over there.
And now that I'm back to cutting up my arm, I'm back here with allllll the demons.
Bring it on. My entire self, hurts.
And I love that.
Oops, no progress there.
I'm bitter.

Jamie Tworkowski's response: You are not a fake. You are not letting us down. You don't have to apologize. Our hope is that when someone wears a TWLOHA shirt, they're not saying they have it all together or that eveything is easy now. We hope they're simply saying that these issues matter to them, that they're fighting to believe in hope and help, and they're fighting to help others believe as well. There is no membership process, no criteria for acceptance. This is a movement for broken people and it is led by broken people. This movement exists for you and people like you. It is yours as much as it's mine. We want to say that we're sorry for your pain, for whatever it is that hurts and causes you to cut. We want to say that you're not alone tonight. Perhaps more than anything, we want to push back at the lie called shame that suggests you're stuck, suggests you're fake, suggests you're somehow failing us.

"You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters. We live in a difficult world, a broken world. My friend Byron is very smart - he says that life is hard for most people most of the time. We believe that everyone can relate to pain, that all of us live with questions, and all of us get stuck in moments. You need to know that you're not alone in the places you feel stuck. We all wake to the human condition. We wake to mystery and beauty but also to tragedy and loss. Millions of people live with problems of pain. Millions of homes are filled with questions – moments and seasons and cycles that come as thieves and aim to stay. We know that pain is very real. It is our privilege to suggest that hope is real, and that help is real.
i could tell myself that i forgot i saw this
or that i forgot there was this organization
but that wouldn't be true
i know it's out there and i know there's help too
but when i see someone send something like that in,
it reminds me that other people are struggling too
and i would have thought that knowing that
and reading that
would have made me feel better and made me feel stronger
but the truth is, i'm still weaker than i'm telling people
and i'm still weaker than i'd like to tell myself even
i know i'm getting there
and that i took a few good steps in the right direction
but it's really, really hard to stay in that direction
and to stay that grounded.
it's just really hard
i thought seeing this would help but it just makes me uncomfortable
and i know that my situation makes everyone uncomfortable too
because it is an uncomfortable situation
i wish i could change but i'm having trouble still
and i don't think that i want to
because when i saw this and these words,
i wanted to forget that i had
and that makes me think that i wanted to forget about hope
-Post Monday, December 1st, 2008.


Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. After that post, things were stagnantly awful for awhile. Then, eventually things got better and I let them. Now, things are awful again. I got so low Thursday morning. And it's only Friday night and I can't even remember what the light looked like on Wednesday during the day, even though it rained the whole time in Washington. Even though, there was still light. I woke up in a hotel room where the bed was big and the sheets were warm. The elevator had jokes, my suitcase wasn't stressing me out. But then, right around the 7th hour of the bus ride back, my feelings started to sink. Now, it's 12:20 on a Friday. And I can't even remember what the light looked like that Wednesday afternoon. Or on Wednesday morning. Or Tuesday night. Or Monday. Or Sunday. Fuck. I picked up that needle yesterday evening and I don't know what to do now. I feel like a fake, smiling. I feel like a fake, crying. I'm still uncomfortable. But now, I'm uncomfortable because my arm itches for more. And I"m pretty sure that no one saw today, though I wore short sleeves just to punish myself. I just fucking hate myself right now. I really do. I'm just so stupid. I opened that drawer and I can't close it now. Damn, that was stupid. I can't talk about it with anyone - everyone who knew was proud. I can't disappoint people, again. I already did that, as soon as I came back. Hell. I don't know why I did it. But I did and now, I want more. Now, I want blood. Now, I want it again. The deep cuts, the itch during the day to run home to my drawer. Hell. That drawer is open, a little over two months later.
...

i hate giving into weaknesses.
i guess all that nothing
turned into my needle
last night.
fuck.
i was doing well, too.
but as soon as i came back into town,
everyone jumped down my throat
with expectations
and i missed that ledge a few times.
so i tried a few other vices, first.
just so you know, it wasn't my first try.
but my drawer just looked so inviting
with my head banging from all the pressure.
and i wanted to quiet it down,
so i slipped up.
i didn't like it.
but i did it.
the problem was, it felt good
after a minute.
the problem was, i forgot
that i do like it.
fuck.
i hate that drawer.
i just couldn't put it down -
dammit! i was doing so well, too.
fuck that.
i tried.
damn. fuck.
i hate this.
i thought i had a grip.
ahhh

just so you know, it doesn't sting so much this time. i guess since i've been away, i got a little more dressed up and put on a better attitude. i wrote you on the bus. i didn't finish it and i won't mail it. i probably wouldn't have anyways. but it's almost like i'm so tired right now that i'm numb. and i'm tired from being in Washington and i thought about you. i thought about you in the hotel, on the metro, in the elevator, on the bus. but i checked again tonight and it didn't sting so much this time. when i saw it, i just kind of shrugged and accepted it. moved on right away - didn't dwell. i have so much other stuff going on that i can't worry about you. and it's not that i don't worry about you or that i don't worry about us, it's just that chemistry is in front of me and euro is under that. music is playing out of my speakers, my coat itches a little. i have two tests tomorrow and a teen shabbat. i also want to go to appetite after school. so, it's not that i'm not thinking about you or that i'm not worried, it's just that i can't have you in me right now - my head has so much else that i can't. you've been living in there for so long and i thought when you two broke up that you'd get a bed in the corner of my mind, camp out for awhile. but you got back together, and you packed up your temporary suitcase that allowed me to convince myself that you might be staying for me. i don't know what i was expecting. except i know that i was expecting you to call, come, whatever. profess your love for me, the love you always had. saw pictures of you and your other girl too. made me think that maybe she had become just another girl in the picture, someone who changed after you for the worse and someone who you couldn't even talk about because you loved them.

i thought for a minute - considered deleting this entire post. then i looked inside myself for a second to check for bleeding via heart like the first time i heard. i don't even see a tear. my head, when i looked inside, was blank, except for the words i type and the lyrics in the background song playing loudly. it's not that i don't worry or that i don't want you for myself or that i've suddenly stopped loving you. it's just that i'm tired. i'm tired of telling the same story over and over again and you came up in conversation today, in photo, and tina accidentally called you ben. it made me laugh just a little. because when ben left, i scrambled to take pictures to remember him by. becuase when he left, i thought that i couldn't go on with my camera. but i did. you were next. i scrambled that day in the junkyard to capture it all and it makes me laugh now that those pictures are difficult to print. that they're tainted with light stains and out of order for the negatives. the ones i took more recently, ms. conner doesn't really like. C worthy. not A worthy. oh well. because i checked again for blood on my heart, and i don't feel anything. it's not that i don't care. it's just that .. i'm nothing now. it's not numb because that would mean i was stung recently. it's not empty because that would mean i was full recently. it's just nothing. and that's sad. but it's 10:21 and i have chemistry and euro under that. and the same song playing on my computer. i love you, she has you again. she just should know not to let you go again because if she does, she's silly. i can't even type how great you are because the keys from those words are so worn down that i can't even see them anymore. so are the ones for 'i love you' but i keep putting those out there, just in case. whatever, i'm nothing now. and it's not tragic. and it's not something you all should cry over or ache upon. because it's just nothing now. it's just. nothing. and that's just it. nothing. it's nothing. i can't keep repeating the same sad story of 'me and you: the almost was (in my head)' because it's nothing. really, it's okay. it's just getting later and it's just getting less and less hard to put my thoughts in the back of my head for the night and look up bonds and vocabulary and the great depression. ironic. but not really. because it's not depressing. it's just that - it's just nothing. oh well. here's almost another weekend. i might call but i think i have to feel again first. for tonight, i'll let myself feel nothing, it's nice not being distracted by you and you not even knowing it. tonight, it'll just be nothing. tomorrow morning, it might hurt. i might be dizzy from all the nothing and i may see double from all the nothing. but for now, 10:26, it's nothing and i'm okay with that nothing. because it isn't anything. it's nothing.