Its wierd that I have never felt so misplaced in my life. I think now I understand how my mum feels when she explains that she doesn't feel like she is apart of the family. I, right now, at this moment, feel sick to the stomach because even though I have so many common traits with my family, I also feel a disconnection to something so familiar. This scares me more than anything I've ever experienced.
I feel as I am going insane because I cannot find anyone who can understand and be compassionate about the way I'm feeling.
To be totally selfish and not to put it back on themselves, making them look like the bad person and therefore getting even more attention. So frustating and it hurts.
It hurts like a winding to the chest, after falling down and not being able to breathe a steady breath.
To feel like there is nobody I can turn to who understands how I feel and who can reflect either on something that has happened to them, or just give me advice of the right kind and not make me feel like I'm just making something out of nothing.
So many awkward situations, so many heartbreaks, so many times I just wanted to smash my hand through a wall, or grab a pillow and scream into it uncontrollably.
The frustration kills me so much I just want to grab their head and scream into their face what I'm feeling and everything that they are doing to my self esteem and healthy functioning of my mind.
I get annoyed by the implications of what they say, and therefore my attitude turns into a whole world of anger and negativity. I cannot help this because that is all I see and feel day to day.
Every minute, of every single hour, of every structured day, I think about it. I feel the hurt, the torment of the thoughts running through my mind. Bouncing off one wall to the other, trying to create a solution. Something to make everything okay, or even just some thought of positive thinking, where I know it's going to be okay due to this new breakthrough.
I find myself feeling physically sick. Wondering if I was a better person maybe this would better my situation. But then HOW do I better myself to think more positive. So once again I am placing everything back onto myself when in fact i should wash my hands of it and not have it be my problem anymore. I cannot do that because I am so susceptible to letting everything eat me away until I am such a nervous wreck that I have a nervous breakdown.
This time will be different?
I will run away, like usual?
I cannot see any other solution.
Distancing myself, once again from the people that I love because it is destroying everything I am or want to become.
How frightening.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Written in 2007
A tragedy of hate
by ~Odetosummer
She sat in the corner.
Filled with rage and unable to find any happiness within her pathetic excuse for a body. Tears streamed down her sunken cheeks. Nothing was normal anymore. Her thoughts were tainted. The lies did not fit into the normal pattern of life anymore. Wishes were all she had to keep herself sane. Hope. Hope for love, life. For a better day tomorrow, if it comes.
She crawled into her room and curled up on her bed into a ball. She reached out under her bed and found a photograph from her year 12 graduation. She pulled it out and thought to herself,
"Wow I looked so different back then., before the breakdown."
She then looked into the mirror, which was hanging on her door. She stared.
How sad that the sunken face she saw before her, scared her more than anything. Sadly enough, she was actually comforted that she would never feel unloved like she used to.
How fat she was, how ugly. She could never change, this is her, set for life now, or set for death.
This is her movie and this is the final scene.
She sighed and leant over for the knife, which was glimmering in the candlelight. She grasped the knife and all of it's beauty.
As she had cried out for help in the past, it had done nothing but made her suffer. Her parents had booked her into a rehab clinic for chronic depression. Where had that got her?
They made her put on weight, and made her try to sort out her past problems. Past problems, come on, like they will ever be resolved. Half of the situations she had been in as a child, she had never even told the psychs. Why would she, when all they did was judge her and try to make her forgive them. Forgive a man who forced her to have sex with him from the age of 6. Who made her hate herself so much she turned to the knife and self mutilation to take the pain away?
I don't think so. She decided from the moment it happened that she would never forgive him.
What a joke.
As she thought of past convictions, she turned on her stereo and blasted it so noone would hear her screams. The thought of her parents sitting in the next room made her smile.
The one thought of them finding her, a horrible, naked bloody mess, made her the happiest person in the world.
Sad?
You might be thinking that, but the fact that the man who had molested her for 9 years, was her father and the woman, who gave birth to her and gave her life, acted like none of it had ever happened.
What would you do?
How would you act?
Would you hate yourself as well?
There is only one clear answer.
Yes.
As she began to slice the pain of the years away, her heart lifted and made her feel a happiness that she has never imagend she could feel.
She sliced out every night that he came into her room and made her fell a pain that no one should feel.
Sliced away the looks that he gave her.
Sliced away the shivers down her spine whenever she layed her head down to sleep.
She watched as the crimson blood ran freely from her veins, the colour felt so real and it made her smile.
You might think why would some one cut themselves to feel this pain. but all i can tell you is that the light that comes from the blood, lifts your soul and you feel free, free like the blood now pouring from her veins.
Until you do it yourself there is no way to explain it other that this.
Being free and without pain.
by ~Odetosummer
She sat in the corner.
Filled with rage and unable to find any happiness within her pathetic excuse for a body. Tears streamed down her sunken cheeks. Nothing was normal anymore. Her thoughts were tainted. The lies did not fit into the normal pattern of life anymore. Wishes were all she had to keep herself sane. Hope. Hope for love, life. For a better day tomorrow, if it comes.
She crawled into her room and curled up on her bed into a ball. She reached out under her bed and found a photograph from her year 12 graduation. She pulled it out and thought to herself,
"Wow I looked so different back then., before the breakdown."
She then looked into the mirror, which was hanging on her door. She stared.
How sad that the sunken face she saw before her, scared her more than anything. Sadly enough, she was actually comforted that she would never feel unloved like she used to.
How fat she was, how ugly. She could never change, this is her, set for life now, or set for death.
This is her movie and this is the final scene.
She sighed and leant over for the knife, which was glimmering in the candlelight. She grasped the knife and all of it's beauty.
As she had cried out for help in the past, it had done nothing but made her suffer. Her parents had booked her into a rehab clinic for chronic depression. Where had that got her?
They made her put on weight, and made her try to sort out her past problems. Past problems, come on, like they will ever be resolved. Half of the situations she had been in as a child, she had never even told the psychs. Why would she, when all they did was judge her and try to make her forgive them. Forgive a man who forced her to have sex with him from the age of 6. Who made her hate herself so much she turned to the knife and self mutilation to take the pain away?
I don't think so. She decided from the moment it happened that she would never forgive him.
What a joke.
As she thought of past convictions, she turned on her stereo and blasted it so noone would hear her screams. The thought of her parents sitting in the next room made her smile.
The one thought of them finding her, a horrible, naked bloody mess, made her the happiest person in the world.
Sad?
You might be thinking that, but the fact that the man who had molested her for 9 years, was her father and the woman, who gave birth to her and gave her life, acted like none of it had ever happened.
What would you do?
How would you act?
Would you hate yourself as well?
There is only one clear answer.
Yes.
As she began to slice the pain of the years away, her heart lifted and made her feel a happiness that she has never imagend she could feel.
She sliced out every night that he came into her room and made her fell a pain that no one should feel.
Sliced away the looks that he gave her.
Sliced away the shivers down her spine whenever she layed her head down to sleep.
She watched as the crimson blood ran freely from her veins, the colour felt so real and it made her smile.
You might think why would some one cut themselves to feel this pain. but all i can tell you is that the light that comes from the blood, lifts your soul and you feel free, free like the blood now pouring from her veins.
Until you do it yourself there is no way to explain it other that this.
Being free and without pain.
I can't do this anymore
I can't deal with people today
Their judging eyes, staring
I can't deal with their smiles
How can they be so happy?
When I feel so sad, so alone.
Where do they get off, knowing life is okay?
When I sit here questioning?
I stare into space
Ignore all conversation
I'm in my own little world, trying to forget.
It all seems so hard, so heavy on my chest.
I feel so rundown with inability to get well.
Why is it always like this for me?
I'm at breaking point and I'm ready to explode.
Help.
It's time to ask for help.
To realise what's wrong with me.
I wake up every morning, without knowing my emotions.
Unable to detect which one I'll feel today.
Numb to the constant pain in my head.
Tears stinging my eyes while I try to sleep.
It's hard to say those few words.
but I can't smile anymore.
I find it hard to laugh, be happy, be me.
People are noticing, I can't even be a facade.
The pretty colours are fading and I am so scared.
I don't need or want fixing,
but I want to be happy,
I want to wake up and know I'm going to be okay.
Know I can go to sleep in silence and not have to ignore the negative thoughts.
I want to love myself.
After two years of my dealing with my past.
I was happy to live and be strong.
Yet I am again feeling so weak.
Unable to deal with anything that comes my way.
I just break down and cry.
Battered, bruised, broken.
I watch those people who are so happy,
and try to remember a time when I was.
It makes me cry uncontrollably.
I remember many times I felt that way, consumed and filled with joy.
Now, I feel nothing.
I am capable of only being sad and negative.
This way of life is so easy to stay in,
so hard to recognise there is a problem.
It takes so much energy but to accept the issue,
to live without denial,
hardly.
I hope that one day, I feel good again,
I will not feel those people judging me,
I will be strong and be able to deal with things better.
Loving will be easier,
living will be easier.
Their judging eyes, staring
I can't deal with their smiles
How can they be so happy?
When I feel so sad, so alone.
Where do they get off, knowing life is okay?
When I sit here questioning?
I stare into space
Ignore all conversation
I'm in my own little world, trying to forget.
It all seems so hard, so heavy on my chest.
I feel so rundown with inability to get well.
Why is it always like this for me?
I'm at breaking point and I'm ready to explode.
Help.
It's time to ask for help.
To realise what's wrong with me.
I wake up every morning, without knowing my emotions.
Unable to detect which one I'll feel today.
Numb to the constant pain in my head.
Tears stinging my eyes while I try to sleep.
It's hard to say those few words.
but I can't smile anymore.
I find it hard to laugh, be happy, be me.
People are noticing, I can't even be a facade.
The pretty colours are fading and I am so scared.
I don't need or want fixing,
but I want to be happy,
I want to wake up and know I'm going to be okay.
Know I can go to sleep in silence and not have to ignore the negative thoughts.
I want to love myself.
After two years of my dealing with my past.
I was happy to live and be strong.
Yet I am again feeling so weak.
Unable to deal with anything that comes my way.
I just break down and cry.
Battered, bruised, broken.
I watch those people who are so happy,
and try to remember a time when I was.
It makes me cry uncontrollably.
I remember many times I felt that way, consumed and filled with joy.
Now, I feel nothing.
I am capable of only being sad and negative.
This way of life is so easy to stay in,
so hard to recognise there is a problem.
It takes so much energy but to accept the issue,
to live without denial,
hardly.
I hope that one day, I feel good again,
I will not feel those people judging me,
I will be strong and be able to deal with things better.
Loving will be easier,
living will be easier.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
I'm mental and proud!
Its amazing how my anxiety was at its best when I was a drunk.
I miss how it took away my fears and manic urges.
I took myself off my medication, it does nothing. I feel more anxious than ever.
It's funny though. i get angry at my boyfriend for not being able to hide his anxiety better, how rude of me. It's just I have spent my lifetime hiding what happens in my mind and why should he be able to let it out? That's not fair!
I still get compulsive urges. To tidy something up, or move something because it doesn't seem right. I find it hard at my boyfriends house because everything is so messy. I can handle my bedroom, because it's my disorganised chaos. I can also handle my boyfriends bedroom, however the rest of the house, I feel like I have to constantly clean and scrub. I have always had this weird compulsive urge to write out a word or number or a multiple of numbers. It sounds weird, I'd hear a word and I had to write it out in my head or on a surface or i'd freak out and couldn't handle it. I also do that with numbers, sometimes I'll think of a number, or I'd hear a number and I'd have to write it out in my head, or on a surface. I told my boyfriend about this so now he thinks its funny when I do it, which is fine because he accepts that.
I read a book tonight, about a boy who started having tourette urges and OCD. After a billion (no exaggeration) medicines, he was rehab'd back from his OCD and his tourettes got better and he could exist naturally once again. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I have a mental case of OCD. My fears can become very exagerrated and I will think of some of the most extreme things happening and then obsess on them, and this guy in the book had the same thing. I also obsess on dying and will wake up in the middle of the night from a panic attack in my sleep. I have panic attacks just as I'm going to sleep. At the moment a meditation cd is helping me relax before I sleep as I was told by my psych in Perth that the panic attacks in my sleep are flight/fight.
I am glad I am off the meds. I feel no different being off them, which is weird. I should be freaking out and being mega depressed, but I'm not. I still can't handle stress and this is the main factor for my depression and anxiety. Also when I get stressed the first thing I want to do is get drunk or smoke to get rid of the odd feelings.
It's funny, my boyfriend thinks I'm so together, and I have to remind him, it's because it's all in my head, and I let noone know, NOONE.
End note : I'm fucking mental and I love it.
I miss how it took away my fears and manic urges.
I took myself off my medication, it does nothing. I feel more anxious than ever.
It's funny though. i get angry at my boyfriend for not being able to hide his anxiety better, how rude of me. It's just I have spent my lifetime hiding what happens in my mind and why should he be able to let it out? That's not fair!
I still get compulsive urges. To tidy something up, or move something because it doesn't seem right. I find it hard at my boyfriends house because everything is so messy. I can handle my bedroom, because it's my disorganised chaos. I can also handle my boyfriends bedroom, however the rest of the house, I feel like I have to constantly clean and scrub. I have always had this weird compulsive urge to write out a word or number or a multiple of numbers. It sounds weird, I'd hear a word and I had to write it out in my head or on a surface or i'd freak out and couldn't handle it. I also do that with numbers, sometimes I'll think of a number, or I'd hear a number and I'd have to write it out in my head, or on a surface. I told my boyfriend about this so now he thinks its funny when I do it, which is fine because he accepts that.
I read a book tonight, about a boy who started having tourette urges and OCD. After a billion (no exaggeration) medicines, he was rehab'd back from his OCD and his tourettes got better and he could exist naturally once again. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I have a mental case of OCD. My fears can become very exagerrated and I will think of some of the most extreme things happening and then obsess on them, and this guy in the book had the same thing. I also obsess on dying and will wake up in the middle of the night from a panic attack in my sleep. I have panic attacks just as I'm going to sleep. At the moment a meditation cd is helping me relax before I sleep as I was told by my psych in Perth that the panic attacks in my sleep are flight/fight.
I am glad I am off the meds. I feel no different being off them, which is weird. I should be freaking out and being mega depressed, but I'm not. I still can't handle stress and this is the main factor for my depression and anxiety. Also when I get stressed the first thing I want to do is get drunk or smoke to get rid of the odd feelings.
It's funny, my boyfriend thinks I'm so together, and I have to remind him, it's because it's all in my head, and I let noone know, NOONE.
End note : I'm fucking mental and I love it.
Me.
I remember standing drunk in a freezing cold shower, to try and make my body feel something, instead of being so numb like it had been lately, I was fuelled with thoughts of suicide. I hated myself and why should I bother to keep sustaining life when I was such a failure and would never amount to anything. This is something I have constantly felt throughout my life. I don’t remember ever feeling good enough to actually do anything meaningful with my life. When these kind of thoughts are flooding your mind, it is hard to see any clarity and meaning in life. There was a constant emotional rollercoaster and I never knew how I would feel when I woke up in the morning. Whether I’d roll over and go back to sleep and not want to wake up until well into the afternoon, to hide from life and it’s consequences, or whether I’d jump out of bed full of happiness and positive outlook for the day ahead. Who knew.
I could not say primary school was a breeze for me. I remember having problems with bullies and not understanding why I was teased about such things as body odour, when at the age of 10 I certainly did not have any of that just yet. However, over and over again I was harassed by a gang of 3 kids, I guess themselves building up their own self confidence and therefore sucking all of mine right out of me. I had girl friend problems, one day I was friends with one girl, the next she hated me. It was a very confusing time and I still do not understand to this day why any of that happened. There was a girl who was our same age but taller and larger than any of us average kids and she was one in particular who played games with most of our heads. Telling me as a 10 year old I could not invite my best friend or she would dunk her under water at my pool party. So what did I do? I didn’t invite my best friend to protect her, yet in the same way nearly lost a friendship. I have a distinct memory of the school counselor getting all of the girls together, and getting us to tell each other how we felt when we were left out or harassed, I believe that did not work, and actually made it worse. I don’t feel like I had a terrible primary school experience, however I would not say it probably helped in the future when I felt I was not worth living.
From the ripe age of 15, when most teenagers are heading into a catastrophic hormone nightmare, I was heading in the same territory just like any other teenager of my age. I was prone to being emotional and throwing tantrums as a small child, so being a teenager and the trials and tribulations that came with the fears I held, were finding it hard to head in a constant straight line direction. I had no problems at high school until around 15 years old. In July 1999, my grandpa who I had a strong relationship with suddenly had a stroke and died. Noone saw it coming, especially his doctor who he saw on the day before the stroke, who said he was as fit as a malley bull. My grandma woke up to my grandpa thrashing around and just thought he was mucking around, as supposedly he was prone to this. She then realized he was actually thrashing around for the wrong reasons and called 000. For the next week he was in the hospital. I have vivid memories of going into the hospital room where he was hooked up to so many machines, and holding his hand asking him to wake up. One week later, my grandma told him that if he needed to, it was time for him to go. She read him their favourite line from the bible, and he left this earth. It is extremely haunting, yet so incredibly beautiful. That was the longest week of my life and I don’t believe I grieved for my grandpa until I was 25 years old. My mother became in charge of everything. Mum had to take hold of the funeral, helping grandma, sorting out any necessary details. My grandma was in shock, she lost weight and slowly became severly depressed, and so would I if I had lost my life partner of nearly 50 years. Unfortunately Mum was so tied up with everything that she didn’t know she needed to grieve herself, and help us grieve. Life definitely changed from then on. Grandpa’s funeral was hard. My Dad exploded with tears, as he had lost a Dad too even though he was Mum’s paternal father. They were much closer than my Dad had ever been with his own father. There was an open casket, which wasn’t as terrifying as I thought it might be. I just remember being so very sad for all of our losses of such a great man.
I think we all changed the year one of our friends died in a car crash. It was in November 1999, and I can remember the exact moment I got the phone call from a friend at school. I was sitting in my room with another friend and we were making crafty things. My mum knocked on the door and told me I had a phone call from a girl from school. I was a bit shocked as this particular girl would not usually call me. I was then informed of the newspaper clipping and that it could be this young man. I hung up the phone and got the newspaper, cut out the clipping and realized it probably was him. But how? Why? So many questions filled my head. The next few days at school were a blur. I was having flooded memories of how I was in English class with this guy and how much we had fun just mucking around. We had shared a lot of the same music taste, and had often frequented the local skating rink on a Saturday night. I remembered the times when he had helped me when someone had bullied me and told them to fuck off and leave me alone. I was sad, because here I had made an alliance with someone who wasn’t seen as an academic, wasn’t that good at sport, but was an all round great guy. The funeral was hot, and a lot of students fainted, not being able to withstand the heat. All I remember is singing morning has broken, and the next few days being very subdued at school, especially my English class. I wasn’t even as close as some at the school had been, but I can look back now and be glad that I got to spend the small amount of time I did with him.
These two experiences of death, at an early age and at a time in my life when my emotions were rapidly varying, and not grieving properly, definitely pushed the start of a very depressive and now I look back, terrifying 10 years.
High school after the two deaths, seems very blurry to me. I remember never feeling like I never belonged to any friendship or apart of the school. It was an Anglican school and I did not feel I had a strong Christian faith like many of the other students. I found by the end of year 11 I was not happy at all and in my holidays before year 12 began, I did not know how I could return to that school. Somehow I convinced my parents that they should send me to a public high school. Honestly, I was very persuasive, but really now I think about it, I was just running away from any problems I had at the private school. I might have stayed there, however there just were not enough policies put in place, or help put in place for bullied kids. One of my best friends had been having personal problems and had left high school as well to go to a high school where they studied agriculture, something she had always been interested in, however I know now she was just escaping as well. I did not feel like I wanted to be there, I had to change homegroups because of feeling so unwelcome in my own by two girls, who were twins. Honestly, I would say they made my life hell in high school and even when I think about them today it makes me so sad I could not stand up for myself and tell them to fuck off. They were just so manipulative and as we were all going through hormone changes, they really swapped and changed friends, to whomever they felt they wanted to know week to week. This made me very uneasy and I know that in the time I was friends with them, there were some good times, but the bad times outweigh the good, especially since I had to change schools to get away from all the crap.
Starting year 12 at the public school was interesting. I went from wearing a skirt, white shirt, tie, proper school shoes, to a public school where I could wear tracksuit pants and a t-shirt. It was very different indeed, and this definitely encouraged a much relaxed take on school, homework and my own attitude all together. I remember around that time I was having a lot of problems with my parents. In the end I hated school, a lot of my teachers were horrible and I had once again, problems with friends, and maybe even more severe than at the private school. Once again counselors did not help, and I felt heavily victimized by the school when problems arose. I ended up studying year 12 over two years. I am still not sure whether this was a good idea. I can’t regret the decision, however I can see how it made me lazier, and in the end I did not attend school much at all.
I could not say primary school was a breeze for me. I remember having problems with bullies and not understanding why I was teased about such things as body odour, when at the age of 10 I certainly did not have any of that just yet. However, over and over again I was harassed by a gang of 3 kids, I guess themselves building up their own self confidence and therefore sucking all of mine right out of me. I had girl friend problems, one day I was friends with one girl, the next she hated me. It was a very confusing time and I still do not understand to this day why any of that happened. There was a girl who was our same age but taller and larger than any of us average kids and she was one in particular who played games with most of our heads. Telling me as a 10 year old I could not invite my best friend or she would dunk her under water at my pool party. So what did I do? I didn’t invite my best friend to protect her, yet in the same way nearly lost a friendship. I have a distinct memory of the school counselor getting all of the girls together, and getting us to tell each other how we felt when we were left out or harassed, I believe that did not work, and actually made it worse. I don’t feel like I had a terrible primary school experience, however I would not say it probably helped in the future when I felt I was not worth living.
From the ripe age of 15, when most teenagers are heading into a catastrophic hormone nightmare, I was heading in the same territory just like any other teenager of my age. I was prone to being emotional and throwing tantrums as a small child, so being a teenager and the trials and tribulations that came with the fears I held, were finding it hard to head in a constant straight line direction. I had no problems at high school until around 15 years old. In July 1999, my grandpa who I had a strong relationship with suddenly had a stroke and died. Noone saw it coming, especially his doctor who he saw on the day before the stroke, who said he was as fit as a malley bull. My grandma woke up to my grandpa thrashing around and just thought he was mucking around, as supposedly he was prone to this. She then realized he was actually thrashing around for the wrong reasons and called 000. For the next week he was in the hospital. I have vivid memories of going into the hospital room where he was hooked up to so many machines, and holding his hand asking him to wake up. One week later, my grandma told him that if he needed to, it was time for him to go. She read him their favourite line from the bible, and he left this earth. It is extremely haunting, yet so incredibly beautiful. That was the longest week of my life and I don’t believe I grieved for my grandpa until I was 25 years old. My mother became in charge of everything. Mum had to take hold of the funeral, helping grandma, sorting out any necessary details. My grandma was in shock, she lost weight and slowly became severly depressed, and so would I if I had lost my life partner of nearly 50 years. Unfortunately Mum was so tied up with everything that she didn’t know she needed to grieve herself, and help us grieve. Life definitely changed from then on. Grandpa’s funeral was hard. My Dad exploded with tears, as he had lost a Dad too even though he was Mum’s paternal father. They were much closer than my Dad had ever been with his own father. There was an open casket, which wasn’t as terrifying as I thought it might be. I just remember being so very sad for all of our losses of such a great man.
I think we all changed the year one of our friends died in a car crash. It was in November 1999, and I can remember the exact moment I got the phone call from a friend at school. I was sitting in my room with another friend and we were making crafty things. My mum knocked on the door and told me I had a phone call from a girl from school. I was a bit shocked as this particular girl would not usually call me. I was then informed of the newspaper clipping and that it could be this young man. I hung up the phone and got the newspaper, cut out the clipping and realized it probably was him. But how? Why? So many questions filled my head. The next few days at school were a blur. I was having flooded memories of how I was in English class with this guy and how much we had fun just mucking around. We had shared a lot of the same music taste, and had often frequented the local skating rink on a Saturday night. I remembered the times when he had helped me when someone had bullied me and told them to fuck off and leave me alone. I was sad, because here I had made an alliance with someone who wasn’t seen as an academic, wasn’t that good at sport, but was an all round great guy. The funeral was hot, and a lot of students fainted, not being able to withstand the heat. All I remember is singing morning has broken, and the next few days being very subdued at school, especially my English class. I wasn’t even as close as some at the school had been, but I can look back now and be glad that I got to spend the small amount of time I did with him.
These two experiences of death, at an early age and at a time in my life when my emotions were rapidly varying, and not grieving properly, definitely pushed the start of a very depressive and now I look back, terrifying 10 years.
High school after the two deaths, seems very blurry to me. I remember never feeling like I never belonged to any friendship or apart of the school. It was an Anglican school and I did not feel I had a strong Christian faith like many of the other students. I found by the end of year 11 I was not happy at all and in my holidays before year 12 began, I did not know how I could return to that school. Somehow I convinced my parents that they should send me to a public high school. Honestly, I was very persuasive, but really now I think about it, I was just running away from any problems I had at the private school. I might have stayed there, however there just were not enough policies put in place, or help put in place for bullied kids. One of my best friends had been having personal problems and had left high school as well to go to a high school where they studied agriculture, something she had always been interested in, however I know now she was just escaping as well. I did not feel like I wanted to be there, I had to change homegroups because of feeling so unwelcome in my own by two girls, who were twins. Honestly, I would say they made my life hell in high school and even when I think about them today it makes me so sad I could not stand up for myself and tell them to fuck off. They were just so manipulative and as we were all going through hormone changes, they really swapped and changed friends, to whomever they felt they wanted to know week to week. This made me very uneasy and I know that in the time I was friends with them, there were some good times, but the bad times outweigh the good, especially since I had to change schools to get away from all the crap.
Starting year 12 at the public school was interesting. I went from wearing a skirt, white shirt, tie, proper school shoes, to a public school where I could wear tracksuit pants and a t-shirt. It was very different indeed, and this definitely encouraged a much relaxed take on school, homework and my own attitude all together. I remember around that time I was having a lot of problems with my parents. In the end I hated school, a lot of my teachers were horrible and I had once again, problems with friends, and maybe even more severe than at the private school. Once again counselors did not help, and I felt heavily victimized by the school when problems arose. I ended up studying year 12 over two years. I am still not sure whether this was a good idea. I can’t regret the decision, however I can see how it made me lazier, and in the end I did not attend school much at all.
Life
Laying next to you, though you left today. Laying next to you, with nothing left to say. You've ruined my trust, for a short while. Nothing was said, you just left.You gave me no explanation. I feel somewhere there was a disconnection. Not sure where. Now it's too late to say, I miss you.
You're in my dreams and walking around in my mind. It makes me very tired. You're all I ever think of at night, and day. I miss you more than words could ever say. I feel a shudder of sadness. It's time to walk away. From us and our memories. From all that we used to be. Do you remember? Once you said we'd be together forever, but I guess you lied, and that's life.
You're in my dreams and walking around in my mind. It makes me very tired. You're all I ever think of at night, and day. I miss you more than words could ever say. I feel a shudder of sadness. It's time to walk away. From us and our memories. From all that we used to be. Do you remember? Once you said we'd be together forever, but I guess you lied, and that's life.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Spiritual enlightenment
The way I perceive how people see me and my ranting on spiritual enlightenment is that it just happens one day.
Like.. one moment you aren't inspired and the next you are.
But it doesn't happen like that.
Anyone who has become to feel enlightened will go through many stages, they will often relapse, as the ego can be too strong and take over and switch a person to the negativity side, without them even realising that it has happened until it is too late.
Everyone relapses.
Whether they are quitting smoking, drinking, drugs, any habit, that is hard to shake. So spiritual enlightenment goes a long way and you dip in and out of positive and negative. Yin and yang. You must feel bad to understand what is it to feed good.
Like.. one moment you aren't inspired and the next you are.
But it doesn't happen like that.
Anyone who has become to feel enlightened will go through many stages, they will often relapse, as the ego can be too strong and take over and switch a person to the negativity side, without them even realising that it has happened until it is too late.
Everyone relapses.
Whether they are quitting smoking, drinking, drugs, any habit, that is hard to shake. So spiritual enlightenment goes a long way and you dip in and out of positive and negative. Yin and yang. You must feel bad to understand what is it to feed good.
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