026; Winter lives inside my bones.

It's funny; it's been a little less than a year since I last posted. Ten months, and I'm still in the same place. Three overdoses (not that I'm counting), fifty-something cuts, innumerable bruises, twenty-two pounds less, nine months worth of treatment, two white pills a day, another three psychologists, and a relationship later, here I am. Yours truly. (Sometimes I wonder if I'm stuck down here for good.)

But it's not all bad. Some days are better. Not a lot of them, unfortunately (especially not during winter), but at least it's something. I have someone. We've been together for two weeks now, but I've known him for eight years. Sometimes I curse him, a lot of the time I hate myself, but at the end of the day he says he's there, no matter what. He's a lot like me. I wrote this in my journal, "you're like the earth around which I revolve, constantly drawn to you as if you've got some gravitational pull on me, and some say your soul mate is only there to tear you apart and break your heart so new light can come in, and that's what you do to me, you destroy me but you lift me up, you bring out the best and the worst in me" and I hold to that. He makes me desperate, insane, anxious, but he also makes me smile. And that's gotta be worth something, right?

Anyway. I don't know why I'm writing this. I'm at an all-time low, but I'm having a good day, I'm lucid for once, and it's two am and I can't sleep. Amy's mixes and cigarettes are keeping me company. I think I might take the pink pills and read for a while until they kick in. I don't know.

This is my life.

Songs I've been listening to a lot lately:

† Breathe Me by Sia

† Stephanie Says by Emiliana Torrini

† Winter Bones by Stars

† Sister Winter by Sufjan Stevens

† Chocolates & Cigarettes by Angus & Julia Stone

003; I would sleep in your shirt, and hibernate away the hurt...

"When I am lonely for boys it's their bodies I miss. I study their hands lifting the cigarettes in the darkness of the movie theaters, the slope of a shoulder, the angle of a hip. Looking at them sideways, I examine them in different lights. My love for them is visual: that is the part of them I would like to possess. Don't move, I think. Stay like that. Let me have that."

— Margaret Atwood

Lately I've been craving closeness and familiarity; red wine haze, silent understanding, warm skin under covers. I'm nostalgic for skin and strong arms, someone to hold me, I need to feel safe. But as soon as I talk about these things, I hate myself for wanting them, for being so pathetic. I don't function in relationships--I lose myself in love, I depend so completely on the other, I crave affection, I stop existing. And in an instant, I'll need to be alone, I'll fight and scream, push the other away, I raise the walls back up. Because I know you will leave, you always do.

But I need an escape, someone to disappear into, a body to hide in, skin to trace with my fingers, freckles and moles to explore, protection from the world.

Songs I've been listening to a lot lately:

† Breathe Me by Sia

† Poison Oak by Bright Eyes

† Ginger by Lovers

† Mr. Gaunt PT 1000 by Soap&Skin

† Baby by Warpaint