Yeah, I’m not dead.

Yeah, I haven’t been kicking around here lately. I haven’t died or anything, I just haven’t had a ridiculous amount of anything to say.

Stopped cutting for four months, but slipped up today.
Got tired of Ben telling me that I get upset with him too much and that I’m always angry.
At least if I get mad at myself, I’m not mad at anyone else.

I’m in college now.
Studying Paralegal.

So far, I haven’t gotten a mark lower than 93%, but of course that isn’t good enough.

Because I’ll never be good enough in my eyes.

And that’s about all there is to say about what’s new with me…

Happy Day Of Birth To Sarcastic Narcissist

Happy Holy-Crap-You-Actually-Made-It-Through-19-Years-Of-Life to me.

I really don’t want to sound bitter, and all of that — because it is my birthday, it’s the one day I should be happy for no reason, just because it’s my special day sort of thing. But so far, the day just has not gone over well. It’s only 6AM, but I hardly got any sleep last night. It’s too hot. Even with the fan on. So I’ve reduced myself to taking meds again just so I’m able to sleep a bit. All of my “Friends” (you know, the ones who were just jumping over cars to see me when I visited home last month), are back home… and I’m up here. Sure, I’ve got some people to spend the day with here — but  it’s not the same.

My boyfriend is determined to make my day a good one. I’ve got a surprise in store later, and he says he’s going to be getting me some nice flowers as well. So maybe that’ll cheer me up. I’ve honestly never been with a guy who was nice enough to give me flowers (… even though I’ve constantly expressed interest in getting them before. >_>)

Then he’s taking me out to supper at this pub with good food and booze (which I can legally buy now). Should be interesting.

I really am trying to make the best of today — but it seems like I’ve got this block that prevents me from actually being happy about it, even though I really, want to be.

After all, I didn’t think I’d make it to see 17, let alone 19.

The Sky Is Always On My Side

Well, it’s been weeks since my last post. I guess I fooled myself into believing that the only reason I wasn’t writing was that by some miracle of a chance I was happy. That the only reason I avoided reading the blogs I usually read, and writing in my own — was that I was happy. Of course, you really can only lie to yourself for so long before you realize that it’s entirely pointless. What is, is. And you just have to learn to death with things the way they are. Change them if you must, but there’s no use pretending. Just deal. However you can.

I’ve been listening to a song I used to love recently. It’s called Gloomy Sunday and it’s a remake (slightly altered) of the famous “Hungarian Suicide Song” of the same title, that is done by MC Sniper. It’s in Korean, but I like it. I looked up the translated lyrics, and really liked them. Especially the line: “The sky is always on my side”. Don’t know why, but I like it the most. It’s the one repeated throughout most of the song. I like it. It’s comforting, in a weird way. The entire song, comforting. Almost as if the music is just carrying me away to another world where I’m free to feel how I do in peace. No one telling me that I need to get better overnight, no one making me feel like I’m a horrible person because of my flaws. Sanctuary. There, my flaws are accepted. They’re expected. When they’re dealt with, I’ll leave and go back to reality.

I wish I had more to write about, honestly. But when I’m not pretending to be happy, I don’t feel much of anything, and therefore, don’t have much to say about how I’m honestly feeling.

I turn 19 in 6 days.
Celebrating another year that I’ve made myself push through.
I didn’t think I’d live to see 19.
I never thought I’d live to see my graduation either.
Now the question is… am I going to be able to see myself go to college? Or do I want to?

I’m not making sense.
I am sorry.

Acting

I hate reading the things that I write and thinking to myself, “Well, I’m pretty pathetic.” That pretty much sums up what I am; pathetic. I shouldn’t have the mind-set that I do, and I should be able to just pick up and move on with my life, but I can’t. It seems each entry here is in some way, shape or form stating that same thing: “I should be better but I’m not.”

I had a collective 28 grams of acetaminophen, and the leftover 300mg of citalopram I never took,  yesterday just chilling in front of me. I felt like a collector or something. Instead of stamps, fancy pens from around the world, or anything neat like that, I was collecting medication. My original intention was to just take the entirety. Of course, that would have meant a fifteen minutes of solid swallowing pills. (Considering the acetaminophen was a collective of four different bottles.)  But I’m not stupid. I’ve learned from my past mistakes. I would need some sort of barbiturate along with it to enhance the toxicity of the acetaminophen. And let’s face it, it’s near impossible to OD on citalopram. >_> That drug is seriously good for nothing. I don’t even know why I still have the leftover pills when I stopped taking them.

So instead of ingesting my little collection, I decided to just stare at it for a bit — almost feeling proud of myself. I had my own little collection of shiny little pills.  Of course, after a while I figured I’d better just put them back before anyone becomes suspicious when they are missing.

I quit my job at the Petro-Can before I even started.
I can’t do morning shifts.
I’m going to my interview at the Bay instead, if I don’t decide to get on the bus, say that I’m going to the interview, wait an hour downtown, then bus back home. I hate group interviews. I don’t see the point in them. I guess it’s because they want outgoing people to work for them — it’s the same as Chapters.

I’m no where near outgoing, but at least I can pretend. I’m really good at pretending. Maybe I should take up theatre or something, maybe it’s something I’d be good at. If I can get up in the morning, shower, get dressed up all nice, and go to an interview all the way along with this giant smile on my face, and lie convinceingly enough to give the apperarance that I’m outgoing, well I’m pretty sure I could fit into whatever role they needed in a theatre. Of course, I’d never do it. I did some acting back in my happier days. When I was in Grade 8, I was in the school play or whatever. Err, I guess it was just for people of Grade 8, but still. It was the only play the school had.  Run, Robber, Run it was called. I think I did rather decently, but the only thing I failed at was fake-slapping this chick in the face, which is what my character had to do. Bleh. Maybe my acting sucked afterall. Maybe I’m just good at pretending. Maybe all I’ve got is a vivid imagination.

I honestly, wish that I made more sense in these entries. Because then it wouldn’t hurt the heads of anyone happening to be reading.

Throwing in the towel

I’m pretty much an idiot, and I pretty much hate myself.

I kept asking myself what changed, how I became the way I am. How I just didn’t seem to notice that I was changing; changing for the worst.  It’s just kind of sad that I’m realizing it even happened after I stopped caring. That’s really what’s happened now. I used to actually care, I used to see that something was wrong and try to fix it. Now, I see that something must be wrong (although, not a soul out there seems to believe me) — I can’t be bothered to do much about it. All I want to do is sleep, and be alone.

I just wish that somewhere out there, there’s some tiny part of me that still wants to be better. That somewhere out there there is something that can help me put together the pieces and figure out what’s wrong with me. Or if there’s even anything.

There has to be. That’s why I don’t understand every single time I’m told there’s nothing wrong. If there was nothing wrong this is just something that I could overcome and wake up one day feeling better. I’d be able to put all of this behind me. To just wake up and say, “Well, that was unpleasant. So, let’s move on.” But I can’t. I tried, and I can’t.

I don’t want to try anymore.
I don’t have it in me to try anything anymore.
I’m broken; defeated.

No longer unemployed.

I’ve finally got a job.
Odd, isn’t it?
I had saw an ad for the local Petro-Can (gas station), and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to drop in a resume. So I go in, and the cashier guy tells me that I need to fill out an application. As I’m filling it out, the guy comments on the pendant stone on my necklace (I love the thing to death, my boyfriend got it for me a while back), and then goes to get the manager. So the manager come down and asks me a few questions. (You know, the generic: How old are you? Are you still going to be in school? What hours are you looking for? How close do you live/ do you have transportation?) you know that basic stuff. So, I answer her questions, and then finish filling out the application.

She takes a half-a-second look at it, and looks back at me, saying, “What are you doing this weekend?” I tell her I’m not doing anything, and she tells me I’ve got the job.

Hopefully that’ll help me feel better, considering I had a horrible morning. I just kept crying, asking myself over and over how I let myself get to this point. I used to be so outgoing, so full of life. I used to be full of ambitions, and goals, and dreams. But where I am now I’m having a hard time caring much about anything. I talked about it with my boyfriend, and he suggested I take up group therapy again. I might think about it, it might be better up here than it was back in the valley.

I’m really failing at writing meaningful entries.

How I miss the days…

I miss the days…

before the depression,
before everything stressed me out,
before bills,
before leaving home,
before the overdose,
before the hospital visit,
before citalopram,
before therapists,
before group,
back when I was happy.
So that link there, was a video that my friends and I made. There were actually a series of them. Screw remaining anonymous — I’m the chick with curly hair && navy sweater.

Watching videos like that makes me a little upset, honestly. I used to have those close friends, and I used to be incredibly happy, all the time. I’m not entirely sure what went wrong once I left High School, but that seems to be where the major problems started.

I don’t know, really.
What I’m trying to accomplish with this entry.
Maybe just show people what things used to be like for me.

(PS. The basement down there that this is filmed in, was at my old place. Bet you’d never guess that there’d eventually be a drug bust down there because my Mom’s boyfriend was a douchebag.

Humidity.

Humid days always have their way of making my body feel… heavy. It’s almost as if the moisture in the air collects itself inside of me and just pools. Shallow breathing, pounding head, staggering speech. I’m not a fan of the humid summer days.

I’ve got an interview for a part time job on Friday; The Bay. It’s only part time, so it shouldn’t be too extensive and stressful. And The Bay is a nice atmosphere, I’ve been there a couple times before. It’s a group interview, which are always a bit intimidating. I’m hoping it will be fine, I’ve done them before after all. We’ll have to see.

Tomorrow’s Canada Day. Should be interesting. I usually don’t do anything for the holiday, except for last year when a couple of friends and I set off some fireworks, went swimming, and did the generic “get together” type deal.  This year my boyfriend’s parents are having a little barbecue and then he’s taking me downtown to see the fireworks display they’ve got going on. Fireworks are always so pretty, so it should be nice.

So the start of July means I’m just that much closer to the end of the month, which is when I have my 19th birthday. My friends back home want me to bus back so that I can “get drunk small town style”, but I’m not entirely sure that’s what I want. I’m not a huge fan of the big party scene anymore. Sure, a year ago I was all for it — I’d drink whatever you’d put in my face and have a grand old time. But back then I wasn’t afraid of going outside in public for long periods on my own. Besides, I got a little upset when my boyfriend made it seem like me asking for him to spend a day away from his computer for my birthday, and he ended up saying that if it meant that much to me, that he wouldn’t mind doing that. I can’t just be like, “Oh, nevermind. I’m going back home to get drunk.” No, I don’t really want to do that.

I thought I had a lot more for this entry, but apparently I don’t. Maybe I will try again later.

The Morning After

I finally managed to get to sleep last night. I had to take some sort of… cough and pain medication that made me drowsy. Make me glad I wasn’t on citalopram anymore, because apparently since the stuff contained codeine, you’re not supposed to mix it with anti-depressants. Of course, I wanted to sleep pretty badly last night, so I probably would have mixed it anyway.  I hate feeling like I’ve sunk this low. It didn’t always used to be this way.

I’m sick of always feeling sorry for myself, y’know? I feel as if I should be able to just look myself in the mirror and say, “OK. We’re done with this. YOU’RE done with this. Game the fuck over. OK. So let’s pick up and move on from where I left off.” Sometimes, I feel like screaming these things at myself. Wouldn’t do much good, but hey — it’s a thought.

So as one roommate moves out, another moves in. My friend from back home was having some crazy issues with her boyfriend, and didn’t want to get stuck moving back home. Me, being the good friend I am — talked it over with my boyfriend, and agreed to let her stay here for three months. It’ll be nice having someone I actually used to know living here, but at the same time — I’m skeptical. Just a little. She’s a compulsive liar. Sometimes, I think she can’t help herself when she does lie. It makes it to the point where when she actually does tell the truth about things, you never really know when you can believe her. I’m partially feeling like she’s making a lot of stuff up just to move into a place that’s a lot closer to her work. She’s messed with me in the past, and I’ve called her on her lies I don’t know how many times, but nothing changes. Like I said, she probably can’t really help it.

I am sure that everything’ll be fine. She’s agreeing to pay 400 a month, plus buying her own food. I guess I will have to see how this goes, I guess. I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt, for the most part. I’m only slightly skeptical. I’m trusting her on this. I’m trusting that she’s been telling me the truth, and that she’ll go through with everything she agrees to. That may or may not be wise on my part — to decide to invest my trust in a toxic source. Or perhaps, what used to be a toxic source. People do change, right?

All I know is that once someone screws me over after I’ve decided to trust them… then it takes forever to trust again. Of course, I’m sure that’s a trait I share with a lot of people out there. That’s always how it is, right? You’ve got to look out for yourself, you’ve got to look out for number one. And if in the process it makes you a bit paranoid about things, then so be it? Can’t get hurt if you’re cautious. But then you’re not really living, you’re not taking chances.

That’s what I’ve been trying to do lately.
Take chances. Take risks.

Coming up here, was the big one. Choosing to stay was another.

And the next big risk?
Trusting my friend.

I’m hoping it turns out well, because I have a habit of making horrible choices. My boyfriend assures me that it should be fine. As long as she pays the money, all is well. And she’s got a good job, so she’ll have the money. But money isn’t everything. If she lied about everything to make us feel sorry and let her stay here when we weren’t looking for a roommate at all (… in all honesty, I was pretty happy about the idea of not having another roommate once the current one left), then I can’t make the promise to anyone that I won’t pack her stuff up, and leave it outside.

I don’t react well to finding out I’ve been lied to.

But that’s just the “if”.
I’m entirely sure that won’t happen. OK. Maybe not entirely, but partially.

Late Night Contemplations

I love not being able to sleep. I’d surely like to blame it on the cup of coffee I drank hours upon hours ago… but I really know it’s not simple. I also know that it’s stupid to write a blog entry while you’re upset, but frankly… it’s 1:30 in the morning… who else but random people reading this am I going to vent to? No one, because there is no one else. They’re all sleeping, or just not bothered to care.

That brings me where I am now. Feeling like people don’t care. I’m sure they do, but it’s like… they care when I don’t really need it. And then when I do, boom — nothing. Nothing at all. Just like me. Right now, I’ve got nothing.

I moved to another province, where I didn’t know anyone. Left my friends, family, my job, my plans for school, everything. I moved away from it all, left it all 5 months ago to come stay up here because I fell in love with the guy I’m currently dating. Sure, that’s all fine and dandy on paper, romantic even but in practice… it’s not so swell.

I’ve really lost everything. I have hardly any friends left to talk to. I’ve been unemployed for fuck knows how long because I can’t seem to land a job. And every passing minute I just seem to be going further and further backwards. Rewinding all of my hard work to try and make myself better.

Wait. Who am I kidding. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m sorry, I forgot. Because if I’m not comfortable talking with you long enough for you to give me one of your fancy little diagnoses, then that means there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. I’m sorry, did I mention it was late?

So my wise decision five months ago… has left me here. Wide awake at 1:30 in the morning, contemplating my life and how I got to where I am. A year ago… I’d just graduated from High School. I was in such a positive mood… I was hopeful for the future, I was going to attend University, I had a decent job. And hell, even when I decided not to go to University for another year, I still had the decent job, and even got a promotion. Yep. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty nifty. Work a bunch of 3-11s, have a day off, go chill with friends, and go back to work. I liked it. Gave me purpose.

Now the only purpose I have is… well, nothing.
The world won’t stop if I don’t get up in the morning.
Hell, the world won’t even notice, y’know?
A handful of people, sure. Don’t get me wrong.
But the gears just keep on turning, with or without me. I’m no one important. And it kills me, because I used to be. I used to have purpose… I long for that again.

I don’t even think if I had a job now, I could hold it down. I can’t go a day without crying. I can’t go a few hours without some sort of mood swing. I can’t go a few minutes without feeling overwhelmingly stressed. Those don’t sound like skills I want to stick on a resume. I’m pretty much useless at the moment. And that eats at me.

Then there’s the one person up here that keeps me up here — the boyfriend. I really, truly love him. I mean, I’d have to in order to give up everything I have to be up here with him. But I’m always coming in second to something. Something always comes up. He’s always working, which I understand. Hell, someone has to pay bills around here. But when he’s not working… there’s always something else. And of course he compensates by going, “Let’s go out and grab some food, or run some pointless errand.”

I don’t want him to take me out. Really, I’m extraordinarily content with just curling up on the couch once in a while, and watching some TV or a movie. Nothing lavish. I don’t want to be showered with gifts, or taken out to fancy restaurants, or any bullshit like that that guys seem to have in their head that they have to do when they feel they’ve messed up. No. A simple, “Hey… how about we just chill here and watch a movie. Yeah, I’ll even step away from the pointless non-work stuff I was doing on my computer and curl up with you.”

Sometimes… I need that closeness. Because in all honesty… it’s the only thing that reassures me I made the right decision in coming up here. Because I ask myself that question every day.

So here I am… unable to sleep, just contemplating all of this stuff from my life. I’m sure that this blog made next to no sense, but I’m pretty sure no one is reading it anyway. I suppose I’ll need to quest up something that’ll make me drowsy, and deal with all of this in the morning.