Here’s a delightful little picture of my cousin’s belongings~

With these things there’s no telling, we just have to wait and see.
But I’d rather be working for a paycheck, than waiting to win the lottery.

Hello, hello, hello.
Before I go any further into how I’ve been and what’s been happening with me, I’m billing over my sincerest apologies for yet again, not updating at a consistent pace.
I’m overall at a very happy place right now. My home situation isn’t that enjoyable but I’ve come to recognize that it won’t be my home situation forever.
I’m in year 12 now, I’m hoping to somehow muster enough money to get into Shillington College, I’m not really good at much else. If all else fails, I plan on cutting hair for a living.
I can’t wait until these next 3 terms are over, oh the burden that will be lifted of my chest, I can’t wait for that relief.

I can’t wait till it’s over and I can laugh to all those people that said, ‘Enjoy it while you can, when you work, you’ll wish you were at school.’ I will never miss school, all of my schooling life was and will be hell. And even if I don’t enjoy my job, I’ll get paid for it. Compromise~

I’m not that stressed or worried about anything right now. Conor Oberst’s voice has been repeating for the past two hours and something about it, and knowing I’m safe and comfortable for once, makes me feel at ease.
Have you ever felt so happy that you just wanted to cry? I’ve been feeling that lately. I feel like sobbing because I can’t believe it. If you’ve ever been sad, if you’ve ever known sadness or pain, or depression or loss, or hurt… If you’ve ever known any of it, you’ll understand what I’m talking about when I refer to that heavy feeling on your chest, as though there’s an elephant sitting on your lungs.

If you’ve ever recovered, or been on your way to it, you’ll understand how it must feel when that elephant finally decides to get up.
If you have ever recovered, congratulations. Enjoy your happy tears, you deserve them. You made it. And if you haven’t recovered yet, don’t stress. Just keep breathing. That elephant will get tired of sitting soon, have faith.

 

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Letters To Queens

September 6, 2011

The Freshmen

September 5, 2011

I won’t be held responsible, she fell in love in the first place.

I just wrote an entire essay that I was going to post, but I highlighted that shit and backspaced it all. None of it seems right.
I’m not sure what’s happening to me lately. I can’t draw. I can’t write. I can’t do anything. I think it’s because I’m happy, being miserable suited me well. It made me great. My cynicism and negativity fed my emotions. Now I’m too pleased to bother being creative. And I’m scared. I’m so terribly scared. I don’t want to be miserable again. I did it for too long and I’m not ready to go back to that. Thinking about it right now is making me teary. I’m getting a lump in my throat just picturing it…

To be honest, I don’t need art. I don’t need to draw or to write or to do anything that requires my right hemisphere at all. I have no desire to sit in white rooms, stringing together consonants and phrases. I have no desire to have paint all over my clothes, I have no desire to be covered in red stains. Red stains of any kind. If my cynicism is being taken away from me, and I can no longer hold a brush…
If I’m no longer allowed to be miserable, and  my sentences stop making perfect sense…
Then fine. I’ll give all that I could do, every stroke, every word, every minuscule letter. If it means I’m happy, I’ll give it all.

I want a tattoo on my inner left wrist, saying ‘My scars will heal.’
Shall I explain the meaning behind such a choice?

When I was in year 8, the doctor said I had depression. This was the year that I began cutting. I cut my wrists, my legs, and my waist.  This was the year that my life changed. I became indescribably unhappy. Year 9 was much the same, only worse. My problems increased, as did my cutting. Year 10 felt like the worst year of my life. I ran away, attempted suicide… more than once, and felt more lonely than ever. During this time frame, I saw psychologists, counsellors, youth and health officers, etc, etc. You name it, I saw it. No one seemed to be helping.
Towards the end of year 10, my soul mate moved away. My sister left the state, and I was left with no best friend,  no one to talk to, and no one to hold me when I cried. That girl is still the only one who understands me. Towards the middle of year 10, I began to worry about my weight. It slowing became more and more significant and I then began to realize, how much fatter than other girls I am. I’m not that fat… But compared to the other skinny, pretty and much more beautiful girls, I felt obese and disgusting. Then year 11 came, and with it, other problems. I lost the remainder of close friends that I had, and therefore became more depressed. Instead of just feeling alone now, I actually am. I’ve found new ways of harming myself as I don’t eat very often any more.  If I do, I’ll make sure it comes back up.

I can’t say that I’ve gotten better. I can’t say that I’ve gotten worse.
I’m sick. I might die, I might not. But these series of events, problems and difficulties in my life forced me to throw myself into the art world. I began drawing what I thought were meaningless artworks, paintings, etc, etc. From this, I then realized what I want to do.

I turn 17 this year. When I finish high school, I plan on going to COFA and getting a Bachelor of Fine Arts. I want to become a tattoo artist, not because it seems like a pretty fucking awesome thing to do, but because I want to engrave permanent reminders like, ‘My scars will heal,’ on the bodies  of other people with difficulties, problems and shitty lives, so they know that not only are they not alone, but they are alive.

They will make it.
Their scars will heal.

And if you give a damn, take me baby. Or leave me.

Everything that drains you, or makes you tired.
Everything that tells you, ‘Give up. You’re not worth it. Sink into the ground where you belong.’ The voices in your head eventually subside.

It’s my birthday in 4 days.
It might be hard for some people. They’ll have to deal with a change in their life.
Though, it won’t be that big of a change. I never made much of a difference.
But it will be one of two changes.

They will either have to deal with my death, or with my going off to find life.
As of late, though I feel drained and dead, I’m finding myself wanting to live. I’m finding myself looking at old couples and smiling. Or looking at a laughing child, and laughing back. When a few months ago, I would have turned away and frowned. I’m finding beauty in things I once looked at with such hatred.

I want to live.

There’s only us, there’s only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.
No other road, no other way, no day but today.

And this is my reaction to everything I fear. Cause I’ve been going crazy, I don’t want to waste another minute here.

Mother has decided to have guests over. Joy.
So, I woke up this afternoon and had a potato because I was starving and that’s pretty much the only thing in the house that didn’t make me wanna throw up.
Didn’t sleep very well, but my day was pretty good yesterday.

I saw someone who means a lot to me. Which was pretty cool, I don’t get to see her much.
There was five drunk females in my house, including me.
I made a cake, it actually tastes horrible.
Apart from the fact that we made it while drunk, we didn’t follow a recipe.
Just, chucked things in. Though, it smelt great.

I have to go to Carramar tomorrow, not looking forward to that.
I don’t mind the whole, ‘seeing a health/youth counsellor’ part. She’s a lovely person.
I just don’t like the whole, ‘catch a train by yourself,’ part. I get lost while walking home sometimes… and I do it everyday.

Anyway, Shannon’s gonna go be bored elsewhere. I do think I’ve saved a draft somewhere,
might post it later today.
Have a good one.