There was that November

When nothing was hard

You lay on the concrete

No you sat on the car

And ash fell from the sky

And sat in your hair

Your veins were inked

Into your skin

And your bones were sharp and delicate

And the sheets stayed on the floor

And the radio never turned off

You lay on the bed

No you sat on the bed

No you sat on the ground

And it was fine and it was cold

You took a knife

And you cut your hair short

And it bounced on your shoulders

Whenever you moved


Then the next November

You sat at the end

Of your bed with your legs crossed

And your hair was longer

But it never bounced

And your sheets stayed on the floor

And the radio never turned off

And your head was full

Of voices you didn't recognise

And you would jump when you heard

The kids next door laughing

Your veins were inked

into your skin

You took a knife

And you cut into your wrist

And your heart didn't beat any faster

Like it used to

And you went to sleep only to feel

Those few seconds

Where you forget what is wrong

When you wake

i actually have tea this time. not one things is wrong right now! ok bye.

as promised, i don't have any tea so here is a post. i've just realised i could have been making tea instead of writing this. kind of annoyed with myself. i'm gonna go make tea.

i probably won't post much anymore because, aside from the fact that blogging is a little gay, i'm also pretty happy at the moment and i only ever used this when i was upset about shit. maybe i'll just write about being happy. that's probably a better idea. weeeeeeeee..! i drank so much tea today, it was a good time. why isn't anyone making me tea, fuck this shit. i'll write stuff when i don't have tea and i'm mildly annoyed about it.

-i don't have any tea and i'm mildly annoyed. in 5 minutes i'll have tea and that'll be good. the end.

i tried really hard, just like you tried when i was waiting for you to be ok.

well down. even my brain feels sick.

stupid... things.

i think i just passed out.. in any case i certainly woke up on the floor.

the first person to tell me i was anorexic was a doctor. because he took my weight. and he went on about bmi's and similar shit. and how mine was 14 and my blood pressure was very low. that's why i keep fainting. and it was boring. he told me to eat so what i did was not eat.
i spent months literally doing nothing. i could not move without being exhausted. i couldn't stand up without stumbling a little before i found my balance.

didn't eat at home or at school or at friends houses. occasionally a sip of milk or an apple. cut up into tiny pieced and spread out across two days.

someone tells me i look sick; good, i'm doing it right.
someone tells me i'm looking better; don't eat for 10 days.
collapse every time i attempt anything physical. go home, sleep immediately. that's ok, no time to eat when you're not conscious.

meet people with eating disorders and it involuntarily becomes a competition. meet someone who wants an eating disorder and beg them not to be so fucking stupid. meet someone who acts like they have an eating disorder; i would punch you in the face if there wasn't a chance i would break in the attempt.
meet someone who goes on and on and on about their fucking eating disorder. they are known as the one with the disorder, they try to make it cool. they want it because they think it's interesting.

another month and i would have died. it's not interesting, it's fucked up. tell someone you don't remember the last time you ate. "since yesterday?" "nah, a week ago, maybe?" like it's normal. get forced to eat. "why are you doing this?" "i don't have time for this shit." "i can't afford to put you in hospital so just get the fuck over it." 

i'm going to make myself better because that was really fucking ridiculous.

i don't trust anyone, but some of them are ok

i did want to die but there would have been no one to high-five in a coffin. i'm going to live foreveeeeeeeer. heh... ok. what am i even talking about. it makes sense in my mind.

like, there are a lot of shit times, but after a certain amount of good times, the shit times seem comparatively really fucking shit. and you don't want those to happen again. so you keep trying with the good times. and i think it kind of works

i thought i was supposed to be doing things then i got confused and took mushrooms and mdma instead.

my name's jacinta. i just made muffins. i opened the oven early, a couple collapsed.
my parents like drugs. they are insane. sometimes they're ok. mostly they're insane.
i like my sister. so do my parents, more than they like me. we watched flight of the conchords today. she's funny.
sometimes i don't eat. because i like that feeling.
sometimes i do eat. i like that feeling, also.
my window has a hole in it. it's raining on me. i get anxious when i'm alone, but there aren't many people i enjoy being around. my dad said i'm useless and then he went back to being asleep. i have a headache. i wish milk came in glass bottles. i'd enjoy that.
when i got home my sister wasn't here because my parents had been arguing. i listened to them arguing. the pixies only partially drowned it out. i considered taking more codeine. i told myself to shut the fuck up. i had water instead.
my mum believes in ghosts. i decorated the muffins with desperately ugly pictures of kitchen utensils. not exactly what was required given the theme of the event they were made for.
i spent most of prometheus asleep on hamish. like the time i watched alien, except that time i wasn't asleep on anyone. i think people appreciated that.
love is scary. i avoided getting to that point for ages. i thought it would make me weaker. i hurt some nice people because of that. i don't think i regret it... i do feel kind of stupid, though.
i love you very much, hamish. you are proper great.
blogs are weird. i wish you could draw pictures on them. like, when they got that updated msn thing and you could draw stuff at people. but by that point msn was becoming uncool.
that's what happend to me today.

i enjoyed some brief codeine related fun and now i'm up with a massive everything ache at 2 in the morning. it's probably a fitting punishment. still, fuck, ow

once on a yellow piece of paper,

he wrote a poem

and he called it "chops"

because that was the name of his dog.

and that's what it was about

and his teacher gave him an A

and a gold star

and his mother hung it on the door

and read it to his aunts

that was the year father tracy

took all the kids to the zoo

and let them sing on the bus

that was the year his little sister was born

with tiny toenails and no hair

and his mother and father kissed a lot

and the girl around the corner sent him a

valentine signed with a row of x's

and he had to ask his father what the x's meant

and his father always tucked him in at night

and was always there to do it

once on a piece of white paper with blue lines

he wrote a poem called "autumn"

because that was the name of the season

and that's what it was all about

and his teacher gave him an A

and asked him to write more clearly

and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door

because of its new paint

and the kids told him

that father tracy smoked cigars

and left butts on the pews

and sometimes they would burn holes

that was the year his sister got glasses

with thick lenses and black frames

and the girl around the corner laughed

when he asked her to go see santa claus

and the kids told him why

his mother and father kissed a lot

and his father never tucked him in at night

and got mad

when he cried for him to do it

once on a piece of paper torn from his notebook

he wrote a poem

called "innocence; a question"

because that was the question about his girl

and that's what is was all about

and his professor gave him an A

and a strange steady look

and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door

becaue he never showed her

that was the year that father tracy died

and he forgot how the end

of apostle's creed went

and he caught his sister

making out on the back porch

and his mother and father never kissed

or even talked

and the girl around the corner

wore too much makeup

that made him cough when he kissed her

but he kissed her anyway

because that was the thing to do

and at three a.m he tucked himself into bed

his father snoring soundly

that's why on the back of a brown paper bag

he tried another poem

and he called it "absolutely nothing"

becaue that's what it was really about

and he gave himself an A

and a slash on each damned wrist

and he hung it on that bathroom door

because he didn't think

he could reach the kitchen

-Stephan Chbosky, The Perks of being a Wallflower

i wish you could be completely by yourself forever without getting lonely, cause i never want to have to deal with people again

i used to love being my myself so much.
but now every night that theres not someone with me i stay up 'till morning panicking and hurting myself and crying and when i finally do fall asleep it's all nightmares.

i am sick of everyone. 

nooo, i don't want this to happen again. i want to be happy. i want to have a house next to water of some description and own one of those tiny boat things. i don't want to use it, i just want to have and watch it float a bit. and then i could be like, 'why am i so shit?' and then, upon remembering, i'd come to find that perhaps i wasn't so shit after all and exclaim; 'jesus, i own a boat' and then i'd look at the boat.

i came home and sat in front of a fire that wasn't going and i burst into tears and i hated so many things and i felt crazy and i looked in the cupboards and i cried some more and i felt like shit and i was weirdly lonely.

fuck you, Hamish.
(nah, i love you)

"do you think we'll be in love forever?"

"i already ate," doesn't work anymore.

then i had to eat, like.

aww, people... no...

i don't even know what i'm saying.

jesus, i'm a shit person. oh well, one week.

i'm sorry, ones that i like

ok, no more. she's better without it, anyway. it'll be the same as last time, she knows. hopefully done better. she will be careful.
you're worth better than that. it will be good. she will be empty. dizzy and amazing, and light and little, and nothing will be left but bones. good enough to love properly and purely and it will be perfect.
nothing will be bad, all control. lovely control. 'till bone.

hungry. hungry. hungry. ow, i'm ok. hungry. faint. dizzy. alright, something small i s'pose. full. no. no no no no no no no. fuck. no. unhappy. unhappy. unhappy.
hungry.

"she knows how to be lovely without having to try. she knows how to love without feeling anything. it's not real, but isn't everyone happy?"

i think it will happen again and i think it will be bad