I keep meaning to post something but it all feels so worthless.

Current weight: 99.6lbs.

While I'm asleep, she'll arrive at his place, and he'll smile and hug her and kiss her and then they'll spend the next three days together. And I am all alone.

And if you're in love, then you're the lucky one
'Cause most of us are bitter over someone
Setting fires to our insides for fun
To distract our hearts from ever missing them
But I am forever missing him

Fuck.

066; Always.

I really fucked it up this time.

We tried and we lost. Maybe someday, but I'm not going to hope. Whatever happens, happens. My heart is broken, just like I knew it would be. I'm still not sure whether it was by his hands or mine. I wonder if it was worth it. My insides ache. I want to cry but I can't. You're the only one, and I know you know that. I don't know what I am to you - does it hurt when you think about me? Maybe this will never end. Some wounds never heal.

May she meet you half way on all the roads I made you walk alone.

065; Contradictions.

I don't care. I do not care. This is me not caring.

Be an asshole. Think you know everything. You know me too well. Keep playin'. I ain't gonna be part of your games any longer. You're so full of yourself. I love you. I hate you. You are poison. I'm better off without you. That's a lie. Think of me as a liar and a quitter. It doesn't matter what you think. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic (I don't know if I'm referring to you or me.) You make me hate myself. You make me smile. There's too much water under the bridge. We've been through too much. Forget me. Always remember me. You've given up. I've given up. I will never give up. It's over. It's over. I don't care. It's over. It's never over. Fuck you.

Be gone, be gone, be gone, be mine.

060; That's just me, thinking of you.

You write "there's 'her' and then there's everyone else", and it brings tears to my eyes, makes me nauseous, and my heart flutters. And I think, why? Why do you get to me when no one else does? Why do I even think you're referring to me? WHY? It makes me sick, and I wish this would just stop, I hate you but I love you but I hate you but I love you but I hate you but I need you. You drive me fucking insane, and I hate that you're right, that you will always be right, and I am still your hostage, always will be, can never escape these chains. You came back, and I left. I ditched you because I can't handle rejection, I can't handle these feelings, I can't handle shit. It scares me to fucking death. I left you, and still I feel like you gave up on me. Everything is a contradiction, and I can't make heads or tails of anything.

"But you still feel me like I'm right there at your side."

You told me I was the most difficult woman you ever met.

Fuck.

057; Always.

I told him everything and I hoped that it would hurt. (It must've, I heard him crying.) I read him old journal entries out loud while he held his head in his hands and trembled. I told him about my scars. He kept asking why and when, as if that mattered. I told him I hated him, and he told me I was a bad liar. Minutes dragged on for hours, days. He begged for forgiveness, and I said I needed time. I told him that I'd been waiting for him for eight years and it needed to stop. He told me I hadn't been the only one waiting, and I asked him if he meant it. I told him I didn't know if I could trust him. He told me he'd wait. I told him that if he fucking lied to me, I would make him regret it. He told me he loved me. I told him to give me time.

We still love each other even though it's more like a knife fight.

055; I'm better without you.

You're gone and my heart feels lighter. I feel free.

Sometimes when you fall, you fly.

Maybe now I can finally begin a new life.
Time to do all the things I've always wanted to.

054; Nail in my coffin.

You know what? Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you fuck, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you fuck.

052; (Falling in love just makes me blue.)

Love is a universal migraine.

I. Tomorrow Is A Long Time, by Bob Dylan.
II. Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down), by Nancy Sinatra.
III. I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You, by Tom Waits.
IV. You Will Miss Me When I Burn, by Palace Brothers.
V. Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown), by The Beatles.
VI. Still Got The Blues, by Gary Moore.
VII. Since I've Been Loving You, by Led Zeppelin.
VIII. Love Her Madly, by The Doors.
IX. Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen.
X. Ruby Tuesday, by The Rolling Stones.
XI. Kentucky Avenue, by Tom Waits.
XII. It Ain't Me, Babe, by Bob Dylan.
XIII. Say You Love Me, by Fleetwood Mac.
XIV. Wild World, by Cat Stevens.

(Fourteen songs because that's how old I was when I first fell for you.)

051; (There are no words.)

All I do is lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, at the walls, through the windows, watch the light change and disappear, until there is only darkness. A car or two would pass, some birds might sing, children cry, but all I hear is the dull thump of my heartbeat, reminding me that I am still alive. My eyes are swollen and my throat is rough, as if I had been crying, and though I feel like it, the tears never come. I drag myself out of bed once or twice, to drink some water, take some pills, nibble on some bread, go to the bathroom, and of course, to have a cigarette (or fifteen.) His words are ringing in my ears and I repeat everything over and over again in my head until I'm not really sure what was ever said. Breathing hurts. My body aches. When I stand, I feel as though I'll fall, and several times, I do. I have been awake for less than six hours and I think my head will explode if I stay awake any longer. I curl up underneath my blankets once again.

(Now it's 11:11 and I'm trying not to wish for you.)

049; Hold me, hold me tonight.

Lately I've been dreaming of being left behind--betrayed, abandoned, or simply just forgotten. I am easily forgettable. He hasn't been around lately; I'm alternating between hating him and needing him. Mostly I stay curled up in bed, crying and hitting the wall. My hand is covered in reds and blues and yellows and it's beautiful. I've also taken to smoking in my room again.. if mother finds out, she'll be furious. I burn incense to hide it. (I just want to escape.)

I'm eating less, but healthier. Today: a bowl of cereal (115) with milk (100), a handful of mixed nuts (116), one kiwi (46), two slices of rye bread (166) with butter (166 356), a diet shake (180) = 913 calories.

Songs I've been listening to a lot lately:
† Broken Brights by Angus Stone
† The Longest Day by Laura Gibson
† Colorblind by Counting Crows
† O' Sister by City & Colour
† Dead Deer by Lovers

048; (just leave me in the mess I've made)

nononononononononono you're wrong, you can't trust yourself because you, you only ever betray yourself and it doesn't matter what anyone says, because no one could ever convince the ghosts living in your mind. this time i'm certain that something's hidden inside my skin, that i need to cut the shapes of little red stars into it, that i need protection, and where are you? (you're probably off doing something more important, you don't have time for me, why would you, i bet you finally decided i wasn't worth it, i swear i'm a mess that you don't wanna clean up) but no, don't listen, don't fucking listen to yourself because you are your own worst enemy, trust anyone but yourself, you're a fucking mess and you shouldn't be allowed to make any decisions when you're in this state, but then, whatthefuckamisupposedtodoshitshitshitshitshit, because you're not around, you're never around, and fuck, i really need you to fix me right now, keep me steady, keep me strong, because without you, i am n o t h i n g.

046; You make me break all my rules.

I'm tired; of the past I can't leave behind, of all this back and forth, of the way you act, of how you make me feel, of my insecurities and my sudden mood swings (one day I'm afraid I'll give myself whiplash.) All I want is to lay in your arms, your body surrounding me--a safe haven, somewhere to rest, and for you to whisper in my ear that you care, you care and you love me, that you won't let anything harm me (not even myself), that I need to stay with you or you'll die, that I'm too good for this, that you want to keep me safe. Keep me in your arms, and in your heart.
If I could have this, then maybe nothing else would matter. Maybe the self-hatred would simply fall away, fall off the edge of the world, like the sun beyond the horizon. Maybe you could heal these scars with your fingers and lips. Maybe your embrace would keep my nightmares away. Maybe your voice could still my demons. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

(Maybe I'll never stop hating myself for feeling this way.)

045; I am too pure for you or anyone.

If all I have to do to keep you is to say yes then I will say it again and again and again, if it means you will hold me together, if it means you'll stay in my life, if it means that when you sing, you sing for me, then yes. Believe me when I tell you that I will never say no to you, I will do anything to keep you, and I will let you unwrap me like a present, revealing layer after layer, until I am all bare, all porcelain skin and Japanese paper, underneath your roughened hands.

A sacrifice.

042; We're like fire and gasoline.

when you play, I search for clues
in the way you move your fingers across the strings
or the way you close your eyes
when you hit certain notes
and I wish I could see inside, but
you're a mystery to me

when you play, I can feel my heart
breaking inside my chest
and I find myself wondering if your heart is
breaking too (is it?)
and I wish you would
tell me
(whisper
in my ear)

when you play, I want to
close my fingers around your wrist
to count your pulse and see if it matches the melody
that you're playing (are you playing for me?)
and I can only wish
that your fingers were tracing my spine
vertebrae by vertebrae
instead

and when your lips mouth along
to the lines of a song,
I wish I could feel them moving against mine
mylipsmycheeksmyjawmyneckmyspine
across every single bone in my body
and I wish that you knew
that I'm really no good for you
(I know I'm no good for you)

(I will only ever let you down)

041; It's really bursting at the seams.

I'll take a rusty nail and scratch your initials on my arm.

I'm falling apart and you're not here to hold me together, though you've told me you're constantly afraid I'll hurt myself, that you'll wake up one day and I'll be dead, and if you'd just lay with me and whisper that in my ear for the rest of my life, I would probably be content, but you're not here and I'm not there, and the bottle's only an arm's length away, the knife in my pocket, the pills in my bag, and it's so easy to just forget for a while; forget the fear, the anxiety, the emotions, the highs and lows, the fall and rise (if only it was the fall and rise of your chest), and my fingers are growing numb, the wine blacks my lips while the smoke blacks my insides, wash away my sins, wash away my sorrows, and tomorrow might be better though I know it won't be, it never is, and I know I'm not doing myself any favours, only making it worse, only making it harder, but I don't want to listen, because this is easy, cutyourselftakethepillsdrinkandrepeat and oh, will you still be here to be the one to save me from myself?

039; I need to be cared for, like a potted plant.

“I know exactly how that is. To love somebody who doesn’t deserve it. Because they are all you have. Because any attention is better than no attention. For exactly the same reason, it is sometimes satisfying to cut yourself and bleed. On those gray days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen and you are washing a glass in the sink and it breaks accidentally and punctures your skin. And then there is this shocking red, the brightest thing in the day, so vibrant it buzzes, this blood of yours. That is okay sometimes because at least you know you’re alive.”
—Augusten Burroughs, Running With Scissors

This is what you reduce me to; a lovesick creature, always craving your attention. I would do anything to be the centre of your world, yet you can never convince me that I am. Always two sides to everything, never enough. To see myself through your eyes; you tell me I'm beautiful, that you love me, despite all my flaws, despite my manic freak-outs and self-destructive behaviour. Despite that I am who I am. I ask you, time and time again: why? Why me? What could you possibly see in me? Why do you love me? You answer, "I always have and I always will" and how can you know that? All I can think is whywhywhy.

All I know is that there's an end.

034; (Sinking.)

"I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine for the rest of my life."

I barely know what to do with myself; I feel infinitely sad yet strangely alright. It's only when I think of you that I become more and more, like turning up the volume until the silence is too deafening, and I drown in myself and my thoughts and the demons. Where are you? Did you forget me? I miss you. Do you care?

I can't wait to forget you. I'll never forget you. I am easily forgettable.

028; Will we get out of this little hell?

There's a degree of difficulty in dealing with me.

I wish my moods wouldn't rise and fall so quickly; my world turns from pleasant to black in the matter of seconds. Like Jenny Lewis sings, The lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap. And all I can see is darkness. An infinite, starless night. And I wish to god I could tell him, I do, but I.. I can think of a hundred reasons not to. "He's busy" or "he'll get worried" or "I'd be bothering him". He says he accepts me, flaws and all, but there's only so much he can take. I flip so easily. I turn on myself. I fall. And everything hurts, and there's nothing anyone can do to make it better. I fall, and then I dig myself deeper and deeper, and I feel like maybe one of these days I'll fall out of a hole at the opposite corner of the world. And there's nothing I can do about it.

(And then Dallas sings that the blackness in my heart is a storm I can weather, and I curl up underneath my blankets, and cry myself to sleep.)

Songs I've been listening to a lot lately:
† Little Hell by City & Colour
† Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones
† Wasted by Angus & Julia Stone
† Li'l Red Riding Hood by Amanda Seyfried
† You Will Miss Me When I Burn by Palace Brothers

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