Friday 10th October 2008 4:10pm
Ordinary. I take my seat on the bus and the word bounces around my head like a ball enclosed in a circle, or a spider in a glass, searching at every edgeless place for an escape.
Ordinary.
Depression can’t describe the dear & general paranoia & isolation I feel, every step on every street. Every click my hells make mocks my heart, which is going out of my chest.
Saturday 27th April 2013 10:54am
My little brother, the older one, tells me I might be sad because of a Greek myth to do with pomegranate seeds. The way he tells it is slightly off but he is only eight.
Persephone is stolen by Hades and kept in the underworld. She eats six seeds from a pomegranate he gives her and is then bound to the underworld for six months, which are autumn and winter. People went looking for her and neglected their crops, while the gods ceased the growth of anything new, which is why the leaves fade and fall from trees.
I am underground, I am only sad because of the autumn. People are looking for me, I am not abandoned, I am just trapped in the dark, beneath.
I wish I were an alcoholic. This would be a valid and recognized reason for acting the way I do.
Wednesday 27th March 2013 8:56pm
Dinner by myself @ Dukes - I feel as if I have almost never done this. Breakfast, lunch, my God all the time, but a meal alone at night implies an intrusion of others’ evenings. As if I might dampen their night with my solidarity, leave it sodden with their inability to not feel sorry for me. In all honesty I feel just the slightest bit sorry for myself. The sky is heavy this this leaden impending rain & the library wouldn’t accept my card to get out these four huge books on drawing. I want to draw women, desperately. I have so many ideas & no way of laying them down in a way that I admire. It is extremely claustrophobic. To be embroidered inside your own head. Stuck with all of these beautiful women staring at me eagerly & eerily, vines around their necks, feathered eyelashes, wings.
Uh.
I need to be on the receiving end of service more regularly I am too easily filtered into the background, a watermark, in terms of my job. To come into contact with so many different people on a daily basis but to remain almost entirely unnoticed weighs heavy on me at times. But really, would I dwell on my intrusive, unfeminine waitress? With sparse eyelashes, t-shirt, jeans, boots, a strange awkwardness not suited for the position? Well, perhaps. But most wouldn’t.
_____’s had been described as cancerous, a cancerous environment to work in- & I agree. I try not to think about it but it is almost all-consuming. I just find it so difficult to understand how people can be so nonchalant about their cruelty to others, or more so, to others who have done no palpable or horrific wrong. I can be cold and flustered and uncaring when we are busy and I am stressed but for the most part I really do try to make people feel warm and welcome. Possibly pandering to my own selfish want to be remembered (please write a review where you mention the ink-haired girl with pale skin but ruddied apples to her cheeks, please, mention how kind and welcoming she was). I suppose I have to leave, again.
Monday 14th January 2013 10:26am
Well, happy fucking birthday _____. twenty-two years old, huh. How bout it.
Sleepless night last night. Utterly so. No sleep at all, lay in bed a couple times & then decided my best option was to take naked photographs of myself instead & put them on the internet.
I feel this was a pretty great way to start my birthday.
Monday 19 November 2012 1:28am
____ finally bought me a new lamp. I didn’t mention, I got rid of the one I’d had since I was maybe ten. Stuck to it, still, was a ribbon that once held a flower ____ picked for me on our Valentine’s day & a small plane we’d made out of a receipt out the back of Espressoholic when it was still on Courtenay Place. And we were very, very young & self-doubting, but not when we were together.
Talking to ___ the other day & musing how odd it was that people just dwindle out of the central attention you give your life. I said I didn’t know how that happened, while my head was against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and simultaneously remembering a lot of sweet, numb things I wish I could have forgotten by now, & I pulled away.
___ has changed his tune from supportive, caring friend/lover/flatmate (?), to guy on a warpath, sneering at me to tell my parents that I am sick, dirty looks as I split a pack of cigarettes with ___. He’s right, I shouldn’t be smoking. On my breaks I sit outside and watch the restaurant & feel very, very bad about it. Totally unforgiving of myself. I guess there must be a part of me that wants to die, although I couldn’t possibly pin-point where that part lies.
No, a part of me is ambivalent. Or, living in the moment (isn’t this what my Dad always said to do?).
I came, I saw, I slept with… (most of you)
Thursday 20/October/2011 6:29pm
I never want to forget my own birthday. That surely must be a sign that you either do not care about your life at all or you are too absorbed with other people, other things. I always see money first when I see that extreme level of personal neglect. Or maybe some people don’t see ageing as a particularly important aspect of life. It is the most important, though. We all do have a time limit.
I always thought I’d get cancer. Always.
I don’t see myself being struck down by a car. It will be long and drawn out, painful for everyone and me most of all. Like everything important has been, has ended, thus far into my just-touching-the-skin life. Birthdays are important. Not necessarily to celebrate, that’s a personal preference. But to remember, acknowledge, even for just a hair on a second.
Yes, I am older. On this day, however many years ago, I split my mother in two, demanded entry into a world I have explored as much or as as little I have seen fit or allowed myself to explore, this far. I am this many years old. My eyelids are this amount of seconds living. This is what I have to show for this amount of years. I don’t know, I think it’s important.
But what is it that I know, I’m 20. 21 in January. I’ll remember that, you won’t have to and you won’t.
____’s friend sitting outside Plum today (or maybe 5:30pm is night?) Don’t know if ___ with with him, was tempted to look, but repulsed at the same time. My coat is ill-fitting. I am ill-fitting. It’s sunny and lovely and I escaped to the library to sit inside. Because I am bulky and uncomfortable etc. 6km today at 10kmph. I have a blister now, on my right arch. If I had money for band-aids I would buy some. I have money for nothing. Not even the bus. Joyous lifestyle. My stomach is starting to give me hell. I give myself hell every day.
I wish someone would talk to me.
Town scares me now. I wish nobody could see me. I wish I was very narrow and light on my feet. Flighty and nimble. With quick reflexes and a quick smile too, maybe. Or just to be invisible for a day. It would be difficult to order coffee, I suppose. Not that it matters.
Getting out makes little difference. For all the angst I felt at my house for keeping me inside. Why would I want to feel heavy and unattractive around others? Or catch whatever number of eyes that may or may not be the type to judge? But you can’t stay at home all day watching daytime TV because that’s not typically healthy.
Sunday 13/November/2011 11:05am
My problem is that I am pale & scared. Not a competitive person as I am so terrified of failing. The race will kill me. Sidelined I am safe but unappealing.
Thursday 08/January/2009 5:45pm
SCARY TIMES AHEAD
Beers in the park with ___ today, was marred hugely by the fact I am not thin & comfortable & bendy & angular.
I felt like a lumpy circus freak next to her.
Skipped the noodles, fed them to the pigeons instead. Dinner & a show, they went wild, flung it everywhere.
It was pretty disgusting, actually.
EAT MORE CHICKPEAS, BARLEY, KIDNEY BEANS & LENTILS ——> THEY ARE LOW GI
Sunday 11/December/2011 10:22pm
Getting laid is good. Even the term. Got laid. I was parallel to the ceiling and they were soft and strong.
And my life lay down with me and to my eyes it straightened like my spine did.
I am only ever 100% myself, with someone else, with my limbs stretched out or lilting to the touch of whoever it is that owns me for the evening. It’s just so heartbreaking when the morning demands attention and all my revelations are lost as we stand up.
As humans we get shorter during the day. That’s what it is. To go from travelling the length of your body to being harboured within my own. And to feel myself shrinking.
I am inside myself again, I hope you wish you were here with me.
Friday 22/July/2011 1:33pm (This Time Last Year).
Joints are aching at 5pm, still in bed. Sheets clutching on to her scent with their numb fingertips, but more so mine- the heady smoked sweat and toxic breath. Shower while the jug is boiling, skin is tight across swollen cheeks, mealy marble eyes. Black coffee, Revolution! The bag announces. I stay silent, strut for cigarettes, feel no pull into the almost empty local coffee house. And I feel sickened, smoke on the inside. On the inside, on the inside.
Plans are made, leave again. Bus smells like candy, smells like the mornings before school. Too many places to swill in town. Too many options, always.
Smile. Smile to myself. Think of him (not her), again. My Mother’s place, fireplace and horror film. I want to die occasionally. I eat a lot, want to feel my bones. I want his sinewy skin.
My Mother has a bowl of terrible apples on her dining room table. I have smears of lipstick on my eyelids. I am fairly sure my Mother doesn’t like apples, this notion is approved by their slightly leathery skin. They shrink beneath their exteriors, I dwell on that ideal.
Sometimes I sleep too long. It is often twelve hours or more. My joints throb, my lips and eyes seem content to lick together. My motivation is dainty, it sits between my fingers, resides under my nails. Dormant. I let it sit, I am futureless at times.
I don’t know how they do it. People, in jobs, people on the street, clicking the ground in self-importance. It’s like they run their baths with positivity every evening, they bathe in it.
