Hubris.co.nz

On Thursday night I had my first summer ale and then yesterday I had my first swim of the summer. Around 1am. At Oriental Parade. In my panties. With my now ex workmates and Bart. It was awesome, and not very warm. Luckily the booze in me kept me warm.

Today, consequently, has been rather slow. I spent a couple of hours at Elements in Lyall Bay eating, drinking latte bowls and reading the paper very very slowly. Now there’s been Thai takeaway and Fred Prinze Jnr movies on the television. And my laptop that I picked up from the shop last weekend is STILL ticking and overheating, but I know that htey must have done something to it because now it says ‘Packard Bell’ on the screen the second time I turn it on. It’s an NEC though. And I say second time because the screen stays blank the first time, every time. Good times.

What else should I talk about? I can’t start my new job yet because my security clearence still hasn’t finished. This is a good thing though because it means I get to have a couple of days off first, wahoo! I can go buy some fancy schmancy clothes to match my fancy schmancy new offices down Lambton Quay way. I’m proud of myself for running around in my underwear last night. It makes me feel more prepared for New Year’s, and it also reminds me of the good times skinny-dipping in KateM’s dad’s pool with not a care in the world, or the olden days when I was regularly doing bad things with bad people when I’d get up and walk around the house butt naked and go read magazines in the lounge – if I knew Clayton was out, of course. Or open the curtains if morning sex was to be had, for the benefit of people in the office building across the road. Heh. My self esteem has been very weird lately, I had some total wigginsing on Thursday night, even though I knew at the time I was just being a dork. If only I’d never gone to that damn talk about Myspace!

Now it’s Sunday, and today would have been Oma and Opa’s 60th anniversay. To celebrate, we got together at my parents’ house and scattered their ashes together around a magnolia tree we planted. That sentence does nothing to describe the comedy of errors that the occasion actually was, with the unmowed lawn all wet and long, and the bugs biting me. The containers with the ashes in them didn’t want to come open for a long long time, until finally Cousin Andrea cleverly pointed out that there were latches on the bottom that could be open and the ashes shaken out. There is something a little bit strange about shaking out your grandparents like salt and pepper, passing the containers around so that everyone could have some time with each of them. But the tree – once we managed to get it staked – is really pretty, and I think it was a nice thing to do. Afterwards, we watched super8 home movies that my parents, my uncle and Oma had all shot in the seventies. The clothes were fabulous, and we were all such fucking cute kids (yes, I wasn’t alive in the seventies, but I whined enough that we got out some ’80s footage too). Mum and Aunt Diz were running around in bikinis and looked hot. My dad was in a floral speedo and despite his womanly hips he still had a good body too. Also, eww, did I just say that? The whole effect was a litle bit like watching many many L&P ads. Or perhaps looking at current fashions. Or super 8 footage played behind the Phoenix Foundation…

I also grabbed Deuchlandriser, which is a board game in which you travel around Germany, and also some large beer mugs. Germany is on October 14, the day after Dimmer, and I’m so very happy because Jessie may be at it. And also I’m very happy that I will finally get to see Dimmer. Assuming that it hasn’t sold out yet. Woo!

Oh, and one more thing that I wanted to talk about was how nice the goodbye speeches for me were, and how genuine they seemed. And also, the best part about them was that they were surprisingly similar to my answers in many job interviews lately about what others would say about me – my ridiculously large banks of trivia in my head, my dry wit and my social skills. If I hadn’t put my card in Bart’s backpack along with my purloined coffee cup (shoosh!), I’d put in actual quotes. But yes, very very good times were had. And everyone who left their computers on will be looking at my face when they get to work as their desktop image…

So! Hehehe. Friday night I’m out with some boys and Lisa, and we’re getting pizza, and we’ve been drinking for a while, and having conversations along the lines of yes, I will show them my boobs if they will pash. And then the boys get ahold of some pills. I of course am crazy (like, LITERALLY!) so I can’t participate, but watching their pupils dilate is hilarious, and being the good sport that I am, I run my hands down the back of their heads, and their wrists and skin and all that sort of carry-on, which is awesome when you’re pilling. The boys start getting a bit handsy – I mean, C had already been giving me lap-dances, but now he was crawling across the floor pretending to be a cat, and pulling up my skirt (hurrah for jeans under) and kissing up my arm, and lap-dancing me some more. D meanwhile was sitting in the corner stroking Lisa’s hair going “your hair is purty – sorry, i know you don’t like being touched” and I’m laughing my head off at that, and then C started kissing my neck and I was like “aaaaaaaaargh” and he was trying to kiss me, and I think we all know that I’ve been keen on D for a long long time. But C is young, and shiny, and cute, so eventually I have to turn my head and WOAH, I’M PASHING! And then I look away, and giggle, and try to pretend that I’m not blushing.

And we stay there for a while, and there’s some more pashing and I am so conflicted cos a) it’s C I’m pashing, not D, and b) we’re in my favourite bar that we go to every week and we’re being tacky and c) I’m feeling stink on account of Lisa also, because dude, I’ve been the “oh my god, what the hell is my friend doing?” friend many many times before, and it’s not cool. So after I have a scorched orange martini I convince people that we really should leave, which at least takes care of problem b). And D declares “well since I’m going to hell anyway…” and reaches over and grabs my breast, and I’m like “awesome!” and I laugh and throw goats. Somehow we end up at Maya, and oh man, it is taaaaacky. So I suppose I deserve to be there. But the hands-i-ness continues when D and I are standing at the bar together because stroking people’s skin feels good even when you’re not high, but then he’s like “ooooooh man, we shouldn’t do this” and I’m like “well, why not?” and then it happens, the thing that I’ve been waiting a good six months or more for – he says “We shouldn’t because I don’t feel about you the way you feel about me” and I am like HOLY FUCKING SHIT, YOU ARE THE MOST AWESOME PERSON IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD, and he may have apologised, and I was like “seriously, you are the total opposite of an asshat right now”, because to be high and handsy and no doubt horny and to have it offered up and turn it down on the grounds of serious matters of respect is fucking amazing (and makes me heart him even more, but we’ll ignore that fact). So that was absolutely awesome to hear, and then plus it made me feel much better about pulling C off into more of a corner to make out with him some more. He was like “you’re one of the best kissers ever” and I was like “are you making fun of me?” cos my self esteem is radness. The other thing he said a bit was “but we’re still friends right?” and I laughed lots because dude, we’re drinking buddies, not colleagues anymore, it’s no big deal. Ahhhh young boys on E, so cute. I apologised to Lisa many many times, but didn’t stop doing what I was doing, which makes me a dick. But I was very much aware of how often this would happen again (like never) which helps with the cognitive dissonance. And so cute and shiny. Lisa eventually left, and I was left at the bar by myself for ages, so I had another glass of wine and went “what the fuck is going on?” before deciding to leave, which meant trying to find D to give him back his jacket whihc was lying at my feet. When I did find him, he was like “OMG, thank you so much for taking such good care of my jacket!” with seriousness, and I was a little overwhelmed. They decided that they wanted to dance, so I went to Sandwiches with them, but instead of dancing I think C and I pashed some more while D was buying us drinks, and I stroked his cock through his pants under the table. Ahhh feeling like you’re 21 again, it’s hilarious.

I don’t know how long we stayed at Sandwiches, but eventually we walked up the hill to D’s house to listen to Tool. He had the same bedspread as my parents, and a LOTR poster, so I was like “awesome, I’m glad you turned me down” in my head. They smoked pot, and I laid on the bed and giggled a lot. Over the course of the night when C had floated the idea of coming to my house i was thinking I would say “You can come home with me but I can’t gurantee that I’ll have sex with you” but eventually I think their pills wore off, and I was really tired, so I called a taxi although I ahd a hell of time trying to think about where the fuck I was, and i was carrying my shoes in my hands and the puddles were icey, and then I saw the clock in the taxi and it said it was 6am and I was like AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.

And yeah, it was very very amusing to me and i hope it was to you too. The part that’s making me laugh the most right now is that C’s mother is the accountant at work and I will have to try and keep a straight face when I see her tomorrow. Hurrah! Also, I want C to digitise my Garland tape for me, I hope he won’t consider that to be stalking. I have more gossip to tell you but for now I am too tired and must go to bed. So later skater xojo

I think I’m menopausal, cos I am full of hot flushes. Although the fact that I’m currently bleeding might suggest otherwise. Oh well.

Today I went to Rumba! It was hilarious, and also super choice because of the following reasons:

Thursday August 8th

Very very very much did not want to get out of bed today, as today is a Low Self Esteem Day. Or rather, a feeling that I am just very incompetant and untalented. Realising that there’s actually a boy in my class who’s kinda cute and intelligent made me perk up a little (I told Terri the other day that I’m currently at the stage where I’m almost developing crushes on Door Knobs and other inanimate objects). Plenary meetings brought me down again, just for a change, cos they’re so boring and frustrating and time wasting. Luckily this one ended twenty minutes early, so I was half an hour early to work, and I had Robyn’s zine to read on the bus on the way in, which was good. Choice even.

I bought donuts for Skew Terri and Bridget for our WIP meeting. No really this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that today I also did my application for Terri’s job. Actually it doesn’t really. I just have the feeling that Skew doesn’t like me and that I hassle him too much, and yeah, donuts seemed to be the easiest way to fix that. I had to make like 30 phonecalls too, checking contact details before we put out our second majorest publication, and mostly got people’s answerphones so I had to leave the same message over and over and over again. It made my head hurt a lot.

And then I was walking home across the Grafton Bridge and it was freezing cold when suddenly there was a girl yelling at me out of a car, and I was like ???? but it was Annoushka (I’m sorry, I can’t spell your name), of course. I mean, it’s just logical that my sister’s best friend would be in Auckland, when I haven’t seen her in years, since waaay before she got married. But anyways, her and her husband gave me a ride home, cos they were staying in the same street, and it was much warmer in their car. And it also gave me the chance to test out my hypothesis that it’s quicker to walk home than face traffic at that time’o day – verdict is that it’s slightly shorter in a car.

This evening I was moping at home alone cos my mind was just mush from too many meetings nad hten having to do horrible job applications and freaking out about the implications of me not getting the job (I am NOT going to have another bout of what I was like the last time I was on the dole, i am not i am not i am not (also, side note – I dreamt about K sometime last week, and in the dream she was telling me that she never gave up on me, i just got it wrong)). Bo was out babysitting and Clay was off filming some random short film somewhere (apparently our house is going to be taken over by vines tomorrow) and I was all Meh, so I was just parked on the couch, although there was nothing on TV and reading would have taken too much brain power. Anyways, BradC showed up, and I was like “clay’s not home” but then he pulled a piece of cable out of his pocket and was like “I can do your network now!” and looked all forlorn when I said that it was already done, so I invited him in anyways, and we had multiple cups of tea. So that filled in a couple of hours, and then he went, adn then I boiled kidney, haricot and pinto beans to make kickass chilli, and Bo came home and there was love and laughter again, and now I really should go to bed.

On Saturday night, I am going to go to a hotel room at the Duxton to have drinkies. I receieved the invitation via web-based txt and I had no idea who it was from, but I conditionally accepted anyways, then got very worried when the person who sent it identified themselves by their first name only, without any lastname initials or preceeding adjectives or abreviations, and I was like WHAT THE FUCK? cos I thought it was someone else, but then it was just Jezza, so that’s cool. And then on Sunday, I’m going to play dressups with Kyla – yay! i like makeup and clothes and stuff. Planning ahead, it’s Bo and Clay’s birthday on the 22nd, and so we’re gonna have party-type things on the 23rd so that I can go to Matakana on the 24th. And that’s that.

We got back the videos of our seminars today (I got an A) so I’ve been watching that tonight. Bopa and Emma say it’s real good, and I’ve even heard Emma reiterating stuff I said down the phone to her friend, but my mind’s so not there. In between thinking that I gesture too much, and watching the pen slowly slip out of my hair, increasing my hair-pushing-back gestures, I’ve been thinking “fuck, no wonder no one’s shagging me” thoughts. There’s nothing like watching yourself on TV for confrontational thoughts. It leaves me contemplating how sometimes I think that maybe I should just become morbidly obese and give up all hope of anyone ever fancying me, but then watching myself on TV I feel like I’m already there. And I hate this, because this generally isn’t me – I don’t tend to talk weight very much in my journal because the last thing in the world that I wanna be is one of those verdana girls, but arrgh! You know, I’d like to think that I’ve always had a pretty healthy relationship with eating, May/June 2000 and the whole stress related thing aside, but maybe that’s just me trying to talk bullshit to myself, and suddenly the reason why I’m sleeping alone just makes so much more sense to me. ( And then there’s a boy who enjoys calling me fat and pretending it’s just his way of being straight up, and while I try to excuse it as him trying to find out what buttons to push to piss me off I want to scream “YOU CALLED ME BEAUTIFUL MOTHERFUCKER! WHY ARE YOU RETRACTING THAT NOW?”)

And the other thing that fucks me off is that I know how closely entwined my self esteem is to my stress levels, and I know that right now my stress levels are almost at boiling point (And I know it’s seldom that you read my journal, and you know that i love you, and that yes, I’m fucking worried about you now, and yes, it’s stressing me out a fuckload, but that’s only because I care so much about you). We won’t discuss that further, but I had a big talk with Joseph my lecturer today and luckily I got an extension on my last Com Strat assignment til Tuesday. That’s kinda relieving and stuff. Plus yesterday, I sorted out one of my issues – or rather the girl whom I’d very childishly not been contacting cos’o a spat emailed me (thank you so much for doing that, seriously) and we made cool. And I get to see my Katie this weekend (oh you know you’re ALL my katies, Kate, but in this instance I mean KateB) and that’s gonna be so excellent, as long as I don’t end up being overburdening.

I can’t remember what else I had to say. Probably not much. I’m due at work in less than eight hours, I should really go to bed. I’m really worn out (but if you’re reading this, please please know that I am ALWAYS here for you, and it’s not just you that makes me exhausted, and you’re not an unfair burden or anything, it’s just the way I feel, okay? and yeah, all that stuff which I know you already know). Plus 2 litres really isn’t as much as you’d think that it would be. But I took two herbal sleeping suplements so hopefully I can fall asleep real soon and then not have to spend tomorrow morning with my head under the covers trying to make the whole world go away. <!– I CAN’T HANDLE CARING ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE RIGHT NOW! like, there’s a primary, and a secondary, and a thirdly, and aaaaargh, and also, what the fuck’s wrong with me and where’s my compassion?) –>

Wednesday March 6th

I myself am often amazed at life’s little quirks.

So I have confessions to make. Do I do them at the start or the end of the journal? Or should I put them in where I guess they fit chronologically, in terms of why I started to think about it allanyways? Or should I put them in here and just get it out of the way? Okay. I’m not a good person. I think it’s commonly known that I’ve slept with someone while I was in love with someone else. It gets worse. You know the boy I refered to as “my fucktoy” ? Well, he had a girlfriend when we started. I felt twinges of guilt if I ever had to hang out with her, but the only time it ever really bugged me was after I had to go and get the Morning After pill when the condom broke, which I’d never had to do before and it was scary although I played it all cool and “yeah it’s not a big deal at all” and he’d offered to come with me but when I went to his house afterwards, she was over. In fact, after he broke up with her, the attraction really wasn’t there for me, except for the night that I scored someone at a wedding who wouldn’t come home with me so I manipulated the fucktoy into shagging me again even though wewere both kind of bored of it. I’m pretty sure that most of the girls that I’ve scored have had partners. I have no idea about a few random people that I’ve met in bars. I use people when my self esteem needs boosting, or when I’m bored, or I’m trying to make some sort of point or if I just feel like having some fun. I take advantage of people. The only thing to my credit in all of these situations is that I’m ALWAYS straight up about it. I never even imply that I have feelings for any of them, or tell them that I want to see them again when I don’t. I don’t ask them to tell me all about them when I’m just using them for one purpose. But that’s not enough to redeem me and give me good karma is it? Karma Police, arrest this girl, and everything.

One of the excellentest things about living in town is that I got up 15 minutes before my tutorial today. I had friends in class today! Since I changed Com Strat tutorials, I now have it at the same time as Mike, who’s Kateb’s friend and who I always thought was cute. Excellent, especially since his girlfriend ISN’T in the same tut. Also, I was chatty with Jinan, who is my partner on our first assignment, so that’s me sitting between two people I knew and introducing them and everything. That feels much better. And then, when I was waiting outside the building to have lunch with Clay, I bumped into BenII who I had a crush on first and second year, and since he’s doing advertising this year, no doubt I’ll see him around also, so that’s good. I think he was the boy that I first starting using the phrase “eyecandy” on. Blah blah blah.

After lunch with Clay, I went to see if Icould get my text books any cheaper from Borders, and then I went to peruse their magazines, thinking all the time about my IMC branding essay that I have to do. I lusted after an Adbusters magazine, but it was like $32 so I settled for a Q instead, because it came with a cd’o the best stuff’o 2001, so now I’m listening to N.E.R.D a lot. And Ash.

In Persuasive Communication this afternoon, we learnt that if you get an inconsistent reaction, you’re much more likely to persist in an attempt to get attention which explains oh so much about me. Apparently also, your levels of persuasion ability are related to your level of self esteem as well – the lower your self esteem the easier it is to be talked into things because you don’t have a voice in your head validating your own opinion. That also makes sense.

This evening Maree picked me up and took me to her house where we met up with Shirley and walked down to Cima for drinks. I got an attack of the blahs and fell silent for a lot of the time, plus I had a lot of study to do so I went home. Much later in the evening, I started to watch Last Tango in Paris, if only so that I could see how Marlon Brando looked mid-career, as oppposed to him being very hot and very young or very old and very ugly. I think there’s a lesson in there that all beauty fades . But it felt too hollow for my liking so I went and bought chocolate and watched The Princess Bride instead. One of Clay’s friends rang for him while he was out and because he’s new to Auckland and doesn’t have any friends he spent 15 minutes insulting me instead. Eventually I had to hang up on him though, because honestly, that’s no way to speak to a lady! He was the guy that I’d meant to score the night I ended up with the boat shoe boy instead, and so he had me worried when he said something about going to a vet to check for diseases. I worried that he was implying that maybe I’d given his friend something, but possibly I’m just paranoid. I don’t remember the sex but I do remember freaking out afterwards and making sure he was wearing a condom. Besides, I’m pretty 99% sure that there’s no way that I have anything, although I will book a U22 appointment real soon just to double check. I know I’m talking very ummm ‘loosely’ in this entry tonight, I think maybe it’s my way of reminding myself not to revert back to this behaviour just because I’m scared that whenever I like anyone I end up getting hurt.

Tomorrow I’m taking Clay to Cash Convertors so he can sell his little tv cos we finally got the widescreen back. Boys and their big toys eh? I swear, this widescreen tv is so fucking ugly, only Ben’s stereo matches it in excessiveness. I don’t have a class until 4, but I do have a lot of study to do before then, especially since I’m interviewing my mentor on Friday morning and I gotta do a lot of prep work before that, and I’m sure there’s something I was going to do tomorrow night. So much work! But I love being back in class, I so missed talking to other intelligent people these past six months being at home all day by myself or even worse having to talk to Ben. Intellectually challenged isn’t really intellectually challenging! Oooh, that’s MEAN. I just have a fetish for arguing with Communication Students, I think. Or not arguing as such, rather having heated discussions. Learning is very good for me. And to that end, I’m going to go and finish reading Q and then maybe try to sleep, but I’m betting I won’t be able to.

Is it ironic at all that I lay in bed reading about Victim Feminisim while Fiona Apple wailed away on my stereo?

Because of vomitting and long late night long distance phone calls and that sort of thing, I didn’t go into tech today. I did, however, get out of bed to give Clayton the converter plug, without which I can’t plug my modem into the phone lines. He hasn’t given it back to me yet, but that’s probably a good thing. I just don’t know when I’ll get to upload this entry. But that doesn’t matter all that much anyways.

I’ve done 1/3 of my intercom work, which is a good thing, I think. Yes. It’s astonishing how quickly I can actually do it, if I didn’t get distracted all the time. But I do get distracted, by Freecell and newspapers and thoughts and stuff that should all just be erased. Stuff. Ha.

Showers are where I spend an hour scrubbing the tiles because I don’t want to leave pounding hot water. The laundry floor is where I curled up last night after vomiting and we’ll just blame that on the gin at Shirley’s, because that’s easier.

And this is fucking victimism. I’m fucking suffering – pity me. Excuse me. And all that shit. No, I can’t write this. Or I can write this, but I can’t share this. Because I hate myself and I wanted to throw up. It’s like Bulemia chic or something. I wanted to eradicate him from my system. Why does that make me want to hurt myself? Do I want to make him guilty? Make him feel responsible? The hot hot shower was better than thinking about scalding myself, submerging myself in boiling water. I’d never reach for knives – I just want to burn. Burn his touch out of me. Burn his fucking memory out of me. I was lied to. I was just his fucking dalliance. His fucking whore. And I don’t know what’s worse - that he really did think that he loved me, or that he was just using me all along. So I feel total hate now, and yet I still love him, and I’d probably take him back, even if he was just going to be thinking of ’her’ the whole time.

And more scary, there’s Tony resurfacing when I was on the laundry floor last night. It’s not the memory of the night, it’s the memories of the subsequent nights where I’ve cried and I’ve screamed – of the motel kitchen, Abby’s lawn, Charlotte’s kitchen, my bedroom. And I can’t get over it. Not when the only guy that made me safe turns out not to care about me. And there are the bruises he left on me – and I enjoyed them. What kind of sick fucked up bitch does that make me? Is that my legacy? And when he pinned my wrists down to the bed, and his kiss was too deep, too much, and I couldn’t move, and it was just like Tony. I hate being damaged. I hate my jealousy issues. I hate how I can’t stand up for myself. I hate that I hate myself. It’s all so self pitying and pathetic. I want it to stop. I need it to stop. I don’t have an eating disorder but maybe I should develop one. And that’s just fucked up, but all I want to do is cram full of that icecream and then throw it up again, but I can’t even vomit properly. I need for this to end.

I’ve got to go to Australia. And there, what’s going to happen? Am I going to throw myself at every possible guy? Turn myself into a whore the way he treated me? Maybe I want to be fucked while I cry, because it can’t be special. It can’t be like the way it was with him, because it turns out that I was nothing, I was a time filler. So maybe if I suck the cocks of everyone else, if I swallow them too, they’ll eradicate him from my system. Other hands touching me – sure, it makes my stomach churn to think about ti now, but maybe if I just let them do it enough, it’ll be okay. They can muffle me, and I won’t say no. Because how can I respect myself if he couldn’t?

I can’t hardly even read what I’m writing. I’m so sick of this self loathing, but I guess it’s better to purge this way than head over a toilet bowl. I must get clean. I need help. Or maybe I just need to drop the amatuer dramatics. I need I need I need to get a grip. Like he said. And I need to grow up. Because pretending like my problems are more serious than they actually are does not make me cool.
It does not make me glamourous. It only serves to fuck me up more, and that’s not something I really need right now.

My self esteem had been so good lately, and now it’s getting knocked back and I just sit there and let it. This is fucked. I swear, I’ve got problems. I argue with myself so much. Is this right? Is it normal to have such a nasty person at the back of my head, telling me how pathetic I am?

I don’t deserve this. I’m a good person.I try and suppress all the bad things I could do. I could say so much about him, expose him, attack him. I think I know him well enough to see where his vunerabilities are. He could probably do the same to me. I have to hope that he won’t because I’d just crumple. I’m so afraid of his scorn. I don’t want to have to hate him, but I can’t do it any other way. he
won’t let me. Why did it have to turn so bitter and nasty? For brief instances, I had paradise. but there’s always her in the background, her that he lied to me about. He said he loved me, and he was wrong. I just have to cling to thinking that he believed it when he said it, that he wasn’t intentionally taking me for such a ride. Surely all his concern for me couldn’t have just been a cover? No one could be that cruel, surely?

But then again, how could anyone love me? He wasn’t loving me for my face or body – no matter how many times he called me sexy. So I could make him come, that doesn’t make me jesus. That just makes me easy. And my personality? Insecure to the point of
neurosis, jealous, self centred, over dramatic, fucked up, pretending to be fucked up. There’s nothing there. I think that maybe he loved that I could love him. And that’s why he tried, for a while, to keep me. he needed me to feed his own ego.

Sounds like Morphine Matt. I really love my victim role, don’t I? Why the fuck can’t I trust my natural instincts? I’m like this fucking hopeless romantic, and maybe I love the abuse. That’s it. I feel like I deserve it. I need REAL trauma because the other traumas
I’ve had I made up or exagerated out of control. Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again and all that shit.

I’ve got to stop this.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with this entry. There’s the part of me that wants to put it up for the whole world to see. I want them to suffer along side of me. I want their false pity and their “awww”. And maybe I want more anger from him, so that I can hate him some more, so that I can sting. And then I’m so scared of what he could do to me. I’m not some stupid fucking suicidal twelve year old anymore, but I don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to be pushed to the edge by him hating me anymore than he already does. And I don’t want to be laughed at. Maybe I’m fucking terrified of that. I don’t want to be dismissed as melodramatic and pathetic, although I’ll do that to myself. I don’t want people to worry about me. Well, I want some people to worry, and others not to. And I don’t want to expose myself further, while I want to expose everything.

I will think for a while on these things. But oh god – I wish I could just turn off my mind. Six days till I go to Australia. I’ve got to hold on.