Lack of content

I am who I am.
Its funny, you're always being told to be who you are; but all I want to do is change.
Everything: appearance, personality, my life basically.
But firstly my appearance, and I'm trying. Just not hard enough, and I'm constantly disappointed in myself. I will never be good enough. Smart enough. Skinny enough. Pretty enough. Funny enough.
I eat too much food. I'm too loud when I talk. I laugh a little too hard at jokes. I'm as far from perfect, as I can be. And I need to change that. My body is a temple of imperfections. Big, black, hollow, dead.
My days are nothing. I don't do anything. My life is being slept away. Day after day. A little closer to the end. Frightening, isn't it?
This isn't life. I have no life. What's the point of living if there is no life? Can you even live?
Shades of black and grey. Nothing ever happens. Is it my fault? Yes. I know that, but I don't know how to change it. Which brings me back to the fact that I want to change things.

My demons are alive. I am reminded of that everyday: the scars on my body from where their claws ripped open my skin. the echoes of their screams in my growling stomach. But only I can see. Only I can hear. No one notices. No one cares. No one knows I'm fighting. I don't believe anyone really knows me. No one knows everything. They never will. I am a master of disguise.
Even though I do everything to keep my secrets, hide my misery, I want someone to notice.
But they don't notice, if they don't look. They don't look, if they don't care. They don't care.

I am wasting my time, trying to be something people would care about. But they never do. Pathetic. Desperate. A failure.

Hard work

Hopefully this is when my dream starts to come true.
I'm on the path to reaching my goals, but it takes a lot from me; willpower, strength, energy, sacrifice. I just hope that I can do it, even though faith left me a long time ago.
It's not recovery, but it's what I want. I don't care if its getting worse, I just care about this working out. So from now on I need to stay motivated.

Scared and scarred

I've relapsed. Relapsed hard.
My skin, is scarred. Not at scarred as my mind.
Ankles, thighs, hips, arms, wrists, knees. Everywhere basically.
It has become a habit. A bad habit. I'm scared of not being able to stop.
I'm aware of how addictive it is. But it's my addiction. My problem. My life. My way of surviving.
It calms me, and I like to look at it. As creepy as it sounds, the sight of blood, cuts, marks, scars, bruises - it's...how can I describe it? Calming? Maybe. I don't know how to put it.
If you're a self-harmer you probably know what I'm talking about. And yes, it's difficult to admit that I enjoy looking at such things, but I do.
A year went by. My scars had faded, and my mind had healed a little.
It's worse than ever now. My mind is bleeding, and so is my skin. My thoughts are black, and my days are black. My mood is dark, and my life is dark as well.
Searching for someone to talk to, but no ones there:
It's like screaming for help at the top of my lungs, but no one answers, they just act like nothing.
It's like drowning, and everyone is standing three feet away, and tell me to swim.
Hiding my depression in a way that I want someone to notice that I'm not well. Maybe it's buried too deep within. I wish that no one finds out, and I wish that someone does. It's contradiction.
Finger tips running up and down my arms. Thin lines break the smooth skin, like tiny little speed-bumps on a freshly paved road.
The shattered idea of a true love softly kissing my burning skin. Too romantic to ever come true.
Not much is ever going to come true. If anything. No sign of hope. No sign of anyone caring. What am I even doing here?

Dead or alive

Some people hate themselves, ok?
And some of us can't sleep at night, because our thoughts and burning skin are keeping us awake. Some of us don't know why we're alive. Why we are here, and what we should do. We just want someone to care about us. Some of us are disgusted by our own bodies. To the point where we just don't want to live in it anymore. We wonder why no one notices us. We wonder what it's like to be sincerely happy. We wonder how we ended up like this. Some of us torture ourselves with the thought of it all being our own fault. Some of us feel so unattractive that we want to cry. We regret everything we say two minutes after we said it, and can't stop thinking about the fact that we should have kept our mouth shut. Some of us people cut ourselves. That might be to feel something. Maybe even just because it helps. Some of us take pills. Why? I don't know? Because it takes away some sort of pain? Maybe. We tend to smoke a lot. We harm ourselves; we put scars on our naked bodies, and we fill up our untouched insides with smoke and drugs. We don't know how we can torment ourselves like that. We just do. And it comes natural to most of us. Some of us want this, some of us want that. But we need to realize that not all of us will make it out of this alive, but some of us will survive. Let's never forget that.
I'm not sure if we're dead or alive. We're dead, yet still breathing. We're lifeless, yet still awake.
But I know that some of us will some back to live some day.

2

 

I act like everything is fine. I laugh at people's jokes, I do silly things with my friends and I act like I have a carefree life. It's funny though. When I come back home, I just turn off that mental switch. Then suddenly I break down. I feel alone, empty, tired, I can't exactly describe how I feel into words. It's like I have 2 different me's. One for the public, and one for myself. Only if they knew. Only if. 

Absent eyes, fake smiles and lifeless laughter

No one is here for me. It would be best if I just ran away. And left everything behind.
I'm just sick of living this way, but too scared of dying.
I can't focus. I'm tired all the time, but I can't sleep. I always end up lying in bed, with tears streaming from my face to my pillow. And I'm not even that sad about anything. I just cry.
Something actually changed. Before, I felt nothing - but now; I'm in pain.
My hollow soul is filled with pain and guilt. Because I'm guilty of making myself feel this way.
I tell myself that I'm not good enough. Pretty enough. Skinny enough.
And I believe it.
It feels as though I'm drifting further and further away from shore.
And I'm falling apart. Control is slipping through my fingers.
Dying for someone to notice my absent eyes, fake smiles and lifeless laughter.
Just say my name. Just talk to me. Just note that I'm not okay.

Reach out to me

Everything knocks me down. I feel so fucking ridiculous for thinking I have a chance with anyone. As a friend, as family member, as a girlfriend. Feeling stupid for being depressed, when I'm not even being bullied in school. When I'm getting grades that are ok. When I have a great family.
I feel fucking worthless and forgettable because even though people know that I self-harm, they don't seem to care at all. No one asks me how I'm feeling or if I'm okay. It's almost a year ago I told most of my friends, and none of them have checked on me once. They probably forgot about my scars, and didn't notice that from 8th grade on I've worn long-sleeves. I don't even know if they ever think about me, or how I feel. They don't think about why I did it - do it - or how I felt when I did - do. Someone told me that she thinks people at school cares about me a lot. I don't believe it.
Hearing that, made me feel even worse. Because it made me think about how they actually couldn't care less. Hating myself more and more, for everyday that passes. How did I end up like this?
Wishing that depression was my faith, because I like the idea of that better, than the idea of it all being my fault. But it is. It's my fault that everything feels pointless, because I tell myself it is.
It's my own fault that I'm fat, because I eat when I'm bored (all the time)
Isn't it fucked up that I actually want to have an eating disorder?
Aren't I an idiot for desiring to cut open my skin, but not doing it so much anymore because I'm too afraid of regretting it  when I'm older and want to wear short-sleeve t-shirts?
Is it crazy that I love looking at my scars, bruises, cuts and the blood?
Am I abnormal for feeling as if I'm going to be sick and getting a headache when I think about my life? Is it weird that I refuse reaching out to people, because I'm convinced that if they want to talk to me, they will (they don't) And feeling knocked down every time I try to reach out.
I hate my body. I hate my face. I hate my voice. I hate my personality. I hate my self.
I don't cut because I want to die, I cut because I want to survive.

Dream come true? Never.

What happens now?
When I don't know what to do? Don't know who to talk to?
What to believe and what to think about anything. About you. About him. About them. About my self? Why do I feel so unwanted? I need someone to love, and to love me back. Not a friend at school, not my mom or dad, or a sibling, not someone from the internet. Someone whose shoulder I could rest on. Someone whose arms I could lie in. Someone whose lips I could kiss. Someone whose body I could caress. Someone whose thoughts I could connect with. Someone I could love.
But what is much more important; someone who wants me resting on his shoulder, lying in his arms, kissing his lips, caressing his body, connecting with his thoughts. Someone who loves me, and wants me. If I had such a relationship, I wouldn't worry about what happens next.
But I don't, so what happens now?
Waiting? Searching? Changing? Trying? I don't think any of that is going to change the fact that I'm not the type of girl you fall in love with.
I just want someone to prove that wrong. Someone to just walk into my life and show me that I am the type of girl you fall for.
As I have got my eyes on someone, they never seem to look back and like what they see.
Over and over that happens, but yet I keep on falling for someone who could never fall for me as well. I don't know why there still is that tiny beam of hope inside of me that dreams that someone will find me one day.
NOTICE ME. Anyone?

Never alone

If my misery is company I'm never alone.
If music is company I'm never alone.
If darkness of mind is company I'm never alone.
But don't go insane. Be stronger.
You're nothing without your mind.
Keep on dreaming. Of a better life.
A life without worrying about being good enough.
A life where I am good enough.
Everything I say.
Everything I do.
Everything about how I look.

That is my dream.

But for now its: my misery, music, and darkness of mind.

When I find love

Have been lonely for quite some time. My whole life changed whilst bones like yours and mine, go dancing in the woods. It's time for everything. I'll call you sweet love of mine.
Destruction is not a crime, for those who find love as a game like you and I.
We'll go dancing in the waters of all the tears we've cried.
But I'll still remember the old times.

How to not

Exhausted. I am simply exhausted.
It has been a long, but good day. Spent the afternoon in the best company ever.
Despite the chilly weather we sat outside, listening to music, catching up, and of course a lot of cigarettes was smoked. Today was soul-healing.
Still this exhaustion haunts me.
Using up all my energy on this inferiority complex, and spending every waken minute worrying about single detail of my life. Basically because I don't know how to not.

 

Guilty pleasure

Sliding my hand down my worn out bag. Feeling the small boxes of guilty pleasure, hidden by the black leather. Two packs of cigarettes. Marlboro Originals.

I could have stayed out there forever. Burning cigarettes, loud music, baking sun.
Oh, if heaven is a place on earth! I just needed the closest friend of mine.
Some quality-time with her, that would be lovely. Longing never-ending summer nights.

As we're heading towards the frosty weather and dark evenings, my mood drops along with the temperatures. What's needed now is fireplaces, warm blankets, hot beverages, good television, and candlelight, to fight off the winter-depression.

I want to live

Think about it, there must be a higher love. Without it, life is a wasted time.
Things look so bad everywhere. Nothing is fair in this world.
But where is this higher love I've been thinking of?
As the world is turning, we are just hanging on. Waiting for anything. Everything.
Because right now, and right here I just want someone to share endless conversations whilst smoking loads of cigarettes, until dawn breaks through the black sky. Just living in that moment, when only our voices, our laughter and the smoke from our cigarettes is everything that exists.
Not caring about anything. The music that breaks the silent surroundings, means something.
Even though nothing lasts; cigarettes burn out, coffee cools, people leave, songs end; just enjoy it for the moment. For the night. Live.

I am indifferent

It happens every Sunday.
When the weekend has passed, and yet another week is about to start.
We're going back to school. To work. To our daily routines.
This thing is growing inside of me. In my stomach.
This ice-cold black monster. But not the kind you check for under your bed. No, much worse.
It's fear. Fear of going back to reality. It feels like the comforting blanket, that is staying at home for two days, is being ripped away by cruel mechanic hands. It is the very same hands that forces me back on track. I don't see any sense for me to be in school - if only for education.
Because the people there, my so called "class-mates" or "friends", they couldn't care less if I'm there or not. So why should I even be there? No one gives a fuck.

I have days like these

My tea has gone cold, and I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all?
The morning rainclouds up my window, and I can't see at all.
Even if I could it would all be grey.


It is night, and the moon hangs proudly whilst I put on my make up.
It hurts. I am in pain. But pills don't heal souls.
So I go out. To cry. To feel something.

I am alive in the city-lights

Hands up in the air
Forehead against the bar
Now, we'll blow off the roof
Ending up in heaven
Where the angels cry
The city is awake
Everything is forgiven, love
Hands up in the air
We'll get drunk
Life is pointless
So who cares?
The night is beautiful
You are as the night
And I'm a winner again

I want it to stop

My eyes are burning, as the pain and dark thoughts fill up my tired head.
I have been swimming in a sea indifference, but now I feel like I'm drowning.
As the black clouds are getting thicker and thicker, my life feels more and more pointless.
Living the same day, waiting for something else to happen.
No energy, always tired.
Tired of black and grey; of problems, of overthinking.

What I want is to just relax and observe the silent waves rolling across the mirror-surface of the ocean, without worrying about hollow screams and truthful whispers.

I don't know

I don't know what I'm doing.

I don't know what to write.
I don't know what to say.
I don't know what I think. About you, about it, about anything, about anyone.

I don't know why I'm here.
I don't know where to go.
I don't know how I got here.
I don't know when I became that depressed girl.

I don't know why they talk to me.
I don't know why they don't.

I don't know why they think they know me, when
I don't even know me.

I don't know why I'm doing this to my skin. To my mind.
I don't know.

I feel empty

They just don't have any idea what it feels like, do they? The emptiness inside of you.
Because it doesn't feel like nothing. It hurts. But that pain...it just feels so pointless. Momentarily feelings, they all go away. As if they were sucked in to a black hole of indifference, that is inside of you. I feel no sincere happiness, nor sadness. It's so hard to explain. It almost feels like everything inside of you have turned grey, and is aching. Chest pains and heart ache. You're tired all if the time. Basically, I'm not feeling well. And that's what's wrong with self harm, it actually helps for a while.

I am addicted to music

Music is

 

Beautiful

Awakening

Inspiring

Moving

Touching

Art

Peaceful

Universal

Evolutional
Passion
Intense
Freeing

Life

Everything

 

 

I believe that music is an universal language of passion. And I am completely defenceless to it's power. I believe its the most magnificent gifts humankind have ever been given.
Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy, said Beethoven and I couldn't agree more. I've always been jealous of people who had a strong faith in a religion, because I was never able to believe in what the priest said in church. But I know what I can always turn to.

Music is my religion.

I don't trust tomorrows

Tomorrow is such a foolish concept.
Because nothing really changes. 23.59 is no different than 00.00. It's the same shit all over again.
My monsters doesn't disappear over night. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, they're all the same. I might laugh a little harder on Wednesday and cry a longer on Friday, but late every night it's the same empty hearted girl crying in her bed, until the next dawn comes, and everything repeats. And nothing seems to change that.

I am so confused

So my ex-boyfriend and I hung out for a few hours tonight. We did some very bad stuff, oh fuck... We're both very confused and I'm not sure if we should try again as a couple or just be friends? So much for love

I know why

People don't even remember the time I told them I was a cutter.
They don't even notice the rubberband I always wear around my wrist.
They don't even see my tiny scars on my arms.

They don't care.

...hate myself

I hate the way I look. I hate my disgusting fat body. How could I let myself get so big..
I'm so jealous of everyone with a small figure. And how it seems so easy for them. I have to fight my urge to eat unhealthy, and I have to push myself to exercise. Some girls can just eat whatever they want, of course some puts a lot of effort into being skinny, but still... I wish I had a willpower like that.
I'm a believer of the theory of people unconsciously judging others by their appearance. Even though you don't realize it yourself. But I trust that I would have much more friends if I had a smaller body.
Oh, my life would be amazing if I had figure that looked good. It's on the top of my wish list.
Why does it have to be so hard?!
We live in a world where the ideal woman is skinny as hell. Sure, I think too that I have to have thin body to be good enough. But young girls like me all think that we need to be skinny and pretty to fit in. I know so many girls who has massive issues with their body, including myself.

I'm going to do my best to exercise and eat healthier. Please God, let me succeed this time. I can't stand looking like this anymore. I pray that you will stand by me on my road to transformation. Take away my hunger. Help me activate myself. I don't want to live in this body anymore. I can't look like this anymore. I can't take it anymore.

...just got home from Berlin

Went on a class-trip to Germany last week and I came home on Thursday.
I had really been looking forward to it, and I guess it went okay. But at some points it was horrible. I felt so left out. I should also mention that my recently ex-boyfriend is in my class, and of course he tried his best to hook up with a German girl.
It's about a week or two since I broke up with him. So we're still pretty vulnerable, but since he still loves me, he saw this trip a possibility to flirt with a lot of girls to "get over  me", or so he says.
The only thing is that one moment he was hanging out with other girls to move on, but then at the other moment he was all over me, telling me he misses me, that he still loves me and is really in love with me. Which leaves me CONFUSED!
Up until not long ago I was 100% sure that it was the right decision to break up, but now - I don't know - I'm not so sure anymore.

Well, that was one part of the study-trip, but other parts was shit too.
My best friend in class and I are usually always hanging out, just me and her, but suddenly the most popular guy in our class was really interested in her. Of course she was enjoying the attention, but whilst she was caught up in her spot in the popular-clique I was left on my own. And of no one even noticed me walking around alone all the time, and that has a very simple explanation: no one gives a fuck about me.

...am hurting

My life isn't great. It's, complete shit, to be honest. I'm depressed actually.
My chest is hurting all the time, and I don't even know, for sure, why I'm so sad. It's like, nothing is wrong, but nothing is right either, you know? I have sacrs on my left arm. They're from a year ago, but lately I've been using some selfharm methods that doesn't leave permanent marks.
People know about my scars and so, but I don't really talk to anyone about them. I have one friend whom I can tell everything to, but I still feel ever so lonely.
I'm not a popular kid at school, I'm not pretty or skinny, I'm not that funny nor interesting to talk to. On the contrary I'm one of those people who are just there. I'm really not attractive, and I am fat, and not to mention my bad looks I'm socially awkward as well.

Hm, that's my life, but there will be loads of boring details later.
So to you, my non-existing readers, have a good night.