My house is in utter chaos. Dad is driving mum to the Hospital because her bandages are leaking blood and I’m in my room, crying, because I felt too overwhelmed trying to help dress her for no other reason than being too scared to unintentionally inflict pain on someone else.
Every day for the last two months my brother’s friends have occupied my house and I’m not sure whether I’m happy that he finally has a decent social life or slightly jealous that his social life over eight weeks exceeds my accumulated social life from the last five years.
“WARNING: I have memories like landmines.
You cannot possibly walk carefully enough.
There are days I open my mouth and all that
Comes out is apologies. Days when I’m sorry
But you can’t fucking touch me.”—"Broken" by clementinevonradics.
I completed my first three assignments (which I received yesterday) and they aren’t due until the end of October. Now I can spend more time studying chemistry and attempt the planning for my gas-chromatography report.
“I wonder if you know yet that you’ll leave me. That you are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes that never stay dry. You will fall into her and I’ll go back to spending Friday nights with ones who never learn my last name. I have chased off every fool who has tried to sleep beside me. You think it’s romantic to fuck the girl who writes poems about you. You think I’ll understand your sadness because I live inside my own. But I will show up at your door at 2am, wild eyed and sleepless and try and find some semblance of peace in your breastbone and you will not let me in. You will tell me to go home.”—Clementine Von Radics.
I have the house to myself and I can’t decide between doing homework or watching television shows all night. I did buy therapeutic bath salts on Thursday, maybe I’ll take a bath. Bath. BaTh. Baah. Baaaaah.
"Ordinarily I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable. I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my ways of praying, as you no doubt have yours. Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing. If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.”
1. Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? I could always feel a presence in the corner of my room where my built in cupboard is now situated, so the doors remain closed.
5. Do you like to use post-it notes? Extensively! I used to write in a book dedicated to computer related material, but that was incredibly short lived once I realised that I cannot scribble notes in a book without being agitated.
30. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? Mid December, 2013.
58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? Not frequently, but in saying that I struggle to differentiate my subconscious thoughts from reality so I’m never entirely sure whether I’m experiencing deja-vu or situations I’ve constructed in my nightmares, etc.
I need a computer generated friend that I can talk to when It’s inappropriate to initiate a conversation with real people. Like the one you could add on MSN which replied with automated messages, though I don’t remember what it was called. The Internet may be vast, but I’m always bored. I go back to TAFE on Monday, suffice to say I miss being productive. I hope the people in my class are dead.
“Someone once told me that I was hard to love. The way I switched back and forth so quickly, my emotions always shifted so swiftly- they told me I was unpredictable. Never knowing what you’re gonna get, I go from white and back to black again- never gray, I wish I could explain why I am this way
But its hard. I am hard to love.
You say touching me is like walking on egg shells- never knowing if you’ll be greeted with embrace or a slap to the face, whether I’ll think you’re sweet or just a sour taste- I’m sorry for my change of pace- I am teetering.
Teetering between day and night, hiding in the shadows only to embrace the light never knowing what it is that I want, never knowing when I’ll change my mind- I am indecisive.
Someone once told me I was the most infuriating person they’d ever met, they way I floundered like scared prey desperately avoiding their net- they said I just want to hold you, I said today I don’t want you to.
Borderline. That’s what psychiatrists pegged my Personality with the addition of the word Disorder. My cells are disordered. I am hard to love.
One second I adore your essence, the next second I can’t stand your presence and I’m sorry.
So I will refuse your touch although I crave your attention, the pendulum that is my mind I thought I had mentioned- I am indecisive. I can be pulsing love through my veins at the hour and by the next rain down fury that showers
You, and you will wonder exactly when the shift occurred. I wonder that too.
My hands once used to cradle someone I felt so significant will suddenly find themselves feeling indifferent and I will have hurt you
But I never meant to. I never meant to climb aboard this never ending roller coaster ride, the one that doesn’t prohibit letting more passengers inside- I never meant to be
I don’t ever want to go home to a diseased city full of self absorbed, disgusting creatures who have never spent a full day not pretending to be someone they aren’t. When I left, this was a cross-gender illness. An infection that spread like a fog through every group of people I’d ever had anything to do with. Yes I’m judgmental, because it’s my home. Yes I’m angry, because one day soon I’ll have to live amongst you cretinous wastes of space again. If doing drugs and idolising security guards is your thing, it’s HIGHLY likely I’m talking about you. How about if you cut around acting like a hard man with a crew of spastics, trying to impose your dominance on other equally retarded mutants?? Was the toughest day you’ve had so far in your shit life last Friday in the gym when your gay cunt gym buddy showed you a hectic crossfit workout? If yes then get to fuck you fucking mong cunts.