Thursday, May 24, 2007
The past few weeks have been hectic, thus explaining lack of posts. New blog layout, so hopefully, I can muster up the energy to type up thoughts.
I'm now on Luvan, waiting for the meds to kick in. My days are spent getting more agitated, my nights more weary. I'm tired of thinking, tired of sobbing, tired of having to call people up in the middle of the night. I'm angry at myself for being weak, for being unable to handle this on my own and for still hanging on. I'm slashing my wrists with the pen every night to feel something other than the heaviness in my head, in my chest, the ache in my eyes. To remind myself, that as long as they are marks, they aren't scars. I'm scared that one day Thom and Suan Ee and Alex will realize that they are tired of me, and soon they will give up. Scared that one night I just won't call them anymore. Scared that this has become more normal, more resolved, it isn't difficult to find something in my room that could be used to hurt, to injure, to get this out of my head.
Ashamed that Thom and Suan Ee and Alex are here to tell me I matter enough to get help. To sit by me until morning, to talk about the most mundane things, to say it's alright even when it isn't. To Thom who I admire, who I am thankful for and jealous of, who realised that something was wrong, who was scared for me enough to call for help. To Suan Ee who came with every call, who worried about me even when she was worried about other things, who I wish I could be, strong and confident even when not. To Alex who gets out of bed, to keep calm and look after this kid, one of 160 in college, who keep things in check in the background when I wasn't even aware of it.
I was never good enough. I hated myself and hated others, wondering why I was here, why I am a mistake. I hated being a victim. The classic case of every therapy, of the child who was told she wasn't meant to be here, that she ruined the lives of her parents, that everything I did caused more problems. Take responsibility. I wanted to live for myself, to tell myself I'm better than all of them. But what is there to live for, when I don't want to be here?
Living for others, saying they want me to be here. What a laugh. Lives don't change whether I'm here or not. They have fun, they go on, they continue. What is there to live for, when everything else doesn't matter.
I hate trying to say what the problem is when I don't know. Trying to pick up bits and pieces to focus on so they can understand. Seeing the looks of puzzlement on the faces of the doctor, of the counsellor, of Thom, Suan Ee, Alex............of people who appreciate life, who don't understand.....how hard it is to hang on.....about how significant every word, every act is to someone who is trying to say....something is wrong.
How I want everything to go away. Stop being stupid, stop being hypocritical, stop it, stop it, stop it.
Stop saying you care. You don't. Simple, straightforward. The words 'I care' hinges on the I, the person, the subjective view of the person bringing back attention on themselves. 'I care' doesn't focus on the person receiving it, but on the person saying it. It serves a purpose of consoling yourself, saying you have said it, so you can give up responsibility.
I hate you. This is not a phrase from a child who would cheerfully take you back again when you offer candy. I hate you. It is said with venom, with conviction, with purpose. It is designed to hurt. I hate the way you act, the way you talk, the way you try to be selfish in the illusion of care, I hate the way you are. You are insignificant.
I want the voice to stop.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 11:50 AM
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
These lies, this face
The epitome of my mask
Tears like pearldrops
Bloodied bracelets
Trembling lips unspoken words
My mask
Unsheathed
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 12:53 AM
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Life is over-rated...
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 9:26 PM
