D is for Destined

I am having a bad time keeping up with this this year. Maybe I am destined to fail. I have to try my best but I feel as though it isn’t good enough. Maybe it is because I am trying to write about something that is still so fresh in my heart. I have lost so much these past few years. I want go say goodbye but I don’t feel as though I am strong enough.

C is for Cure

Decribe what makes you whole and I will do my best to destroy it.

-Words Said to a Lovers Captive.

I know what it is like to bleed. I know what it is like to crave the pain. I don’t know what it is like when it is the only thing keeping you sane.

My head hurt so bad right now. It feels as though something is crawling in my skull. Ripping me apart from the insides and pushing itself behind my eye balls. I can feel it’s slow decent into my organs. Slowly devouring me and yet I still breathe. It is so very painful and seems never ending. I am not really sure when this feeling started. I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t there.

I want it to stop but…I am not even sure if I will know how to love without it.

B is for Blush

I am not sure how old I was when I loat my first friend. I know I was fairly young and the idea of death wasn’t really big. I knew people died but it didn’t really mean much. Death was final and yet not final at the same time. This may have been because I went to my first funeral when I was around two years old.

I remember the casket clearly. Or as clear as a possible two year old can. It was white…maybe pink. So very very tiny. It held the body of a young girl who had died in her sleep. She seemed big to me though I have been told that the girl was around my age.

Her casket was tiny but she appeared so big.

I remember dancing and playing in the aisles as people cried. There was so much crying going on. I didn’t know this girl…it wasn’t until I was older that I realized I never would.

As I aged I went to a lot of funerals. Never again a child and nearly always males. The female line of my family tends to live forever it seems. I only have one grandfather who is still alive. I have lost many uncles and great uncles and great great uncles. And make cousins…yes…I have lost plenty of those as well.

But

That casket.

That tiny casket with the not so tiny girl. She has always stuck in my mind.

I am not sure if I was related to her. My mother doesn’t like to talk about her much since she was born the same year as my older sister. I think maybe even just hours apart and at the same hospital. I think it makes my mom feel guilty that her child lived while the other ladies child did not.

I am not sure though. I have only met the mother once. I remember the hungry look in her eyes every time she glanced at my sister.

As a kid I figred she was some creepy lady. As in adult I understand. I understand her looks and shaking hands as she patted my sisters face. I understand why she ignored me. I understand why her and my mother walked on egg shells when they spoke. I understand it all to well.

See while I have never lost a child I lost a friend at a very young age. I have lost siblings. I have seen friends cry after they spoke of the children they had lost.

I have seen blushing brides with a baby bump turn to tear stained widows with scars.

I have seen it all and more.

So, while I have never lost a child, I can still grieve with them. I can hold them close and understand. Maybe not fully but enough to be there when needed

How to fail

Easy

Just give it.

I know! Simple right.

Wrong!

It is actually really difficult to give up. Even as one is preparing to give up there is always something telling them to fight on. Sure we can attempt to ignore this…voice(?) But that is really hard. Some people in this world actually have to fight to give up.

Sure we can make example after example of people who clearly gave up but will we really?

Do you know how long it took that people to say that they had enough?

And

Sure we have those who never even tried in the first place, but can we honestly say that? Can you really say that at no point in their lives did they try to do or be better. And by better I do not always mean your definition of better. Sometimes it can mean theirs. Because there are people who the world who believe they are doing good but the rest of us are silently shaming them. In their minds they are trying just not in the way we want them to.

So how does one fail?

And in whose eyes are they really failing?

My wants

I need to be hated. It is easier to bear. Being loved means disappointment. It means hurting others for the sake of hurting them. It means being left behind when they grow to old or two tired. It means having others give up on you when you rather they stay near.

No

I would rather be hated.

I would rather feel that dark pain then know what love feels like. I can’t take the purity of that feeling. I can’t stand living with the what if.

I rather be hated and know what will happen.

Instead of being loved and constantly guessing.

In sickness and in health

Warning :self harm, suicidal ideation, bulimia, anorexia, mental disorders.

I got sick today. Like really sick.

And I know what you are thinking, why the hell did I just tell you about my five min date with the butt throne.

Well my dear people I am telling you this because it made me feel good.

Yes as I sat there puking my guts out all I could think of was

‘This isn’t so bad at all. A few months of this and I can finally be pretty’

Even know I sit here trying to make more come up because I want to lose this weight. I want to be skinny because to me that equals beauty. Now I do not hold this standard to everyone. People can be beautiful no matter what their size may be but I can’t. I will never be beautiful. I will never be someone who people want to give seconds looks. I am barely someone they want to see at the corner of their eye.

Not to say I believe me to be disgusting but I do find myself to be distasteful…borderline disgusting.

I hate myself so much that for a mins while getting sick I wanted to keep doing it. I wanted it all to go away. I kept thinking about all the disgusting foods I can shove down my throat just to have a reason to puke.

So I can be skinny

So I can be beautiful.

I will like to make a point to say that I also have the flu or a cold..whatever sickness this is I have it.

So I did not set out for today to puke up my delicious chicken tortilla soup with extra sour cream combined with a to die foe root beer float. I would have actually liked to have been able to digest that, thank you very much.

But once it happened, I felt relief. I felt alive.

This reminded me of something though. It reminded me of my addiction to cutting.

Both of these cause me great pain but in the end they bring me the greatest pleasure.

Through the pain I know that I am alive. I feel powerful. I feel beautiful. I feel as though I can finally see the light. Do you know how addicting it can be to have all that when your normal is constant darkness and paranoia. To finally have some clarity.

I can see the colors!

All the pretty pretty colors.

Sadly,

I know how destructive this can be. I know what it looks like for someone to starve themselves to lose weight. I know what it looks like for someone to accidently kill themselves.

I know the end result of my addiction.

So I don’t follow through with my temptations. No matter how much my mind tells me that I need to.

Instead I wait with anticipation for the next I cut or burn my skin by accident. I await that moment when I can spend hours in the bathroom due to some illness.

I no longer inflict these wounds on myself.

Instead I wait for someone else to do it for me.

All praise mother Gaia and karma.

May they serve me the pain I need to stay alive.

I hate challenges and other extreme sports

Ok not going to lie, I failed, I have failed big time. Started to do a monthly challenge and like many thing in life, I failed.

I gave it a good start but then things happened and I just forgot or just had nothing to write.

Not sure why I make these kinds of promises. Was that sentience even correct. I can’t believe that I had to autocorrect sentience.

Goodness me.

I feel like I have much ranting to get in with but I will not. Instead I will stop making promises and actually start doing stuff. Write when I can write. Like actually take the time to do the things I say I will do. Stop saying and just do it.

I feel like I will start babbling soon. It is a special skill of mine. Going on and on about nothing is particular. I am extra good at going off on a tangent. Pretty sure extra good was the wrong thing to say….or put there…maybe it fits.

I am not sure! I freaking failed the grammar portion of every test I have ever taken and that includes Japanese as well.

Yep, I am so bad at grammar that I even failed it in a different language. Is that a skill? I am not sure but I have it.