Shallow Cuts

The only reason I'm writing this is because once upon a time, writing these stupid blog posts was all that kept me sane. I have slowly been going insane this year, and I have had two significant breakdowns that I remember - this is the second. I don't remember the last time I cut myself. I threw away the knife I used to use, and I never even thought about it any more. What a blessing. But today, whatever streak I'd been on ended. I cut my arms because the pain inside of me, in my stomach, chest and throat, felt far worse than the feeling of cutting my arm open, even as I was doing it. Even if I had someone to ask for help, I would be afraid to. I did call Hopeline but they closed at 10pm. I've never felt more alone or more empty, ever. It's clear my life needs to change, but I'm not sure what I should be changing. Even before the lockdown, I was isolated and unfulfilled - now it's compounded a hundred times. I have no idea what I should do and my mind is so numb I can barely write this. 

Star .

"Hello? Are you there?": Helplines for Loneliness, Depression and Suicide

I used to have a big aversion to calling helplines.

At that time, I was being bounced around between counselling services trying to find the right one. With each new face, I'd have to tell them my story from the top and as you can imagine, quickly became very distressed at having to relive the reasons I was seeking counselling over and over again.

Calling a helpline felt no different. I wanted to speak to someone who knew me and wouldn't have to make guesses about what would help me.

But now, being completely isolated with no-one I trust, helplines are a blessing. I've called the suicide helpline HOPELINE a grand total of two times, and count myself lucky things aren't worse. More recently I've called Samaritans if I just feel lonely, or an episode of depression has me in a vice grip and immobilised. Being on my own for so many months now, not visiting anyone and no-one visiting me, speaking to a real live person who listens carefully and responds to what I've said is so... reassuring. I feel relieved and calmed. That in itself is wonderful and awful at the same time.

When I used to work in retail about ten years ago, sometimes we'd get elderly customers who'd eagerly talk to us sales assistants for ages after they'd paid. They were very sweet, but impatient customers waiting in the queue would watch and huff, waiting to be served next. I guess those elderly people would either be totally oblivious or not care. I remember wondering if it was because they were lonely and glad to have someone to talk to. My young and blissfully unaware mind then thought, 'If that's the case - that's got to be one of the worst and saddest things ever.'

Star . 

If you are experiencing loneliness, depression, or suicidal ideation,

call Samaritans on 116 123 (in the UK),

or find the hotline number for your country on Befrienders.org. 

Full Circle

After almost six years, I return.

I never thought I would be writing on this blog again. Logging in to see The Alter Ego Writer gave me such a visceral reaction - warmth in my chest, tears pricking at my eyes, my stomach kind of turning over. It was a whole different person that started this blog.

I came back because I wondered if taking up writing anonymously again could heal me. I have been fighting the increasing urge to commit suicide for years as my depression steadily worsened, but these past couple of months have been the hardest of my life. This week I have existed as a shell of myself.

I'm glad I did come back to re-experience this blog again because it made me feel something, after weeks of feeling completely numb. That said, I avoided coming back to this blog for years and years. I was scared to come back and - truthfully? I was ashamed of this blog. I knew how much I had changed and didn't want to come face to face with the old me - ignorant, naive, likely biased and prejudiced from my biased and prejudiced surroundings. The experiences I've had these past six years have shown me the limitations of my own thinking, gently nudged me to be more considerate, more thoughtful, more inquisitive day by day. One the one hand, reading my past thoughts makes me cringe so much it's unbearable. On the other, even having that reaction indicates that I have grown.

So, despite my itching fingers I have decided to leave everything on this blog the same, even though it is horribly outdated, and just continue posting.

Perhaps even seeing the clunky layout and colours I chose for this blog at 17 years old will be a cocoon of nostalgia for me. Maybe this blast from the past will help me remember, or discover, what I truly used to love, before the pressure cooker experience of being moulded by the people around me started to do real psychological damage.

I am exhausted, but despite not wanting to live any more, I do not want to die. I want to put to rest the version of myself I used to be and start over. Cut away the old, dead weight and rebuild myself again, and better.

 

Star .

Seems Like I Threw That Anchor Into The Sea With My Heart Attached

It's taken me a long while to write again, because I didn't know how to piece the words I wanted to say together. I still don't. Wednesday was horrible. It had been a long time since I'd felt so afraid and tired and depressed and exhausted that I had a breakdown, crying incessantly, cutting myself excessively, wondering why I was alive, why I was born, blah blah. S'not like I haven't been there before. Just saying that makes me feel like scum. Sitting here now, I'm getting so sick and tired of these awful, awful days and then looking back and going, oh yeah, had another one of those Kill Me days. Hey, suicide! That seems like a good idea! Why don't I go ahead and ruin my family's life! Maaaaaaaaaaaan. I'm out of ideas, I'm so exhausted, SO EXHAUSTED, I never get enough sleep these days, or else too much. It's like, no matter how much I try to be proactive about getting out of this pit I'm stuck in, now it feels like nothing I does matters. But I don't feel Boo-Hoo about it, just pissed off that I wasn't a stronger person to take control of my destiny. I don't like being shitted on by fate. I know it's something I've done. I know I have to try harder. But I have no energy left, and that makes me very afraid. My mum is so stresses out, my sister said that every time we stress her out like that, we take years off her life. That terrified me to the point of tears. That I could be responsible for my mothers death. I want to help her so badly, but I don't know what else to do, I really and truly don't. I don't trust anti-depressants, and that's all my Doc can do for me, so why bother with the GP? I'd rather be dead than take pills. I realise that it's a terrible thing to say. But for anybody to understand why I feel that way, I'd have to start from the beginning, and when I had a break-down at work and had to explain it to my supervisors, it took a long time for them to get why I was so afraid.

Said this before but as long as I'm alive I'll never stop trying. It's just getting so hard right now. I can't change anything unless I can get better sleep, I can't get better sleep unless I stop with this binge eating, stopping binge-eating is a challenge as I do it BECAUSE I feel so down. Vicious circle. Weakest point seems to be the eating, I'll smash the thing to pieces from there.

There, blog vomit, as I promised myself.

Also did a bullshit boo-hoo ranty vlog for the first time ever. Nobody on this living earth with ever see it.

Typos are no longer my issue, I will never read this again.

How Many Times? How Many Times?

I have been to counselling, I've been to my doctor, I've been to the Health Centre at my university, I've been to see my course leader, over the space of 15 months with a huge gap in between.

I've spoken to a close friend, my Mum, and other friends know tiny details here and there.

I've been recommended to the university Chaplain, to the Student Space Mental Health worker, to a psychotherapist, to my personal tutor. How many more people must I open my heart to? How long does this go on?

I didn't want this to happen. I don't want to be remembered as the one who fell apart. Me me me, the secret nutcase, the one who lives in her head to escape the real world, as Yanamari, as Karalan, as Jean, as Clear, as Kaede - then I return to this shithole-society, as S.K., as Shay, as Ashana Lian, as Isha K, because nothing is ever clear and there is never one of me. I can't cope being just one. It's like some part of me has to compensate for being a Nothing, so it makes multiples. Whatever, man. Whatever. Just give up.

Aren't all of the geniuses of the world basically insane? It would be great if in my mind was a hidden genius, but it seems like I just got the 'crazy' side of things and now I have to make do. I am scared. My siblings and Mama are getting hit by depression too. How do I help them? What do I do?

For now, I'll sing.

________________________________________

Born To Be Alone

I am scared to speak what's on my mind because of the fear of being misunderstood. But I don't want to be alive any longer. Why not die on my birthday?

________________________________________

I Will Find Peace

...of course, as life goes on.

Sometimes I read things in the news that breaks my heart. But I have to find a way to not be attached to those awful things. It's so easy to get sucked in for them to prey on my mind for days, weeks, sometimes months. I'm learning to let them go. Otherwise how can I try to aim for my own happiness if I'm constantly empathising with somebody else's pain?

I need to find a spiritual healer, maybe look into NLP, CBT, meditation, SOMETHING. I'm looking into it now.

S.K.
________________________________________

I'm Really Sorry

It's hard to explain over the phone. It's rare I will be honest over the phone. It's rare I will be honest anyway, no use if you can't do anything about it.

I have realised that when I am REALLY low, I can explain what I mean much better by writing than talking, which is the reason for this. I did this with my friend the other day and it was much better than choking over the phone.

Also, using blog instead of email so that I can put it together with the others and mark my 'progress', also so I don't have to repeat myself... which I may have to anyway because I don't really tell you anything soo.

Several thoughts were on my mind yesterday. First, the fact that I hadn't been able to stick to my schedule got me down. For example, I'd planned to do the assignments for those modules I told you about and haven't been able to, I haven't practised any Japanese, I haven't done any reading, etc. So that made me very upset because it's like, if I'd known I wouldn't achieve anything, I might as well have just relaxed properly and done nothing. Instead I've been stressed all week, intending to do something the next day and never being able to because something ALWAYS comes up, and what I haven't achieved is constantly on my mind. Moving on.

Next, I think I told you about my sleep, but lately I've been having nightmares whenever I go to sleep. On top of sometimes not being able to sleep, sometimes I'm too on edge to just lie down and not panic, especially if my mind is in a dark place but I'll talk about that later. Like I said just now I've been in bed most of today, both times when I feel asleep I've had dreams although they haven't been as bad as some I've had recently. They weren't nice though. Both were about me killing a lot of people or myself (or trying) or else witnessing it.

Next, the reason why I really wanted to see someone is because I've been cutting myself again, a lot, I wouldn't call it cutting though because I have a pin instead of a knife (which Mama took away) so this time it doesn't bleed but its the same motion, blahhwhatever. The reason why is because I was really overwhelmed but what I was feeling, will explain more later, and I was having something that I can only really describe as panic attacks, I'm not sure, I hoped to see someone today and talk about it but now I'm not, will explain LAAATER.... and also I was doing it because when I feel like I'm about to fall apart, the pain of it really helps to calm me down, plus in perspective emotional pain becomes less intense compared to the immediate physical pain, alsooo it makes lots of little ridges in my skin and when I run my thumb across it the day after, it kind of has a nice feeling and calms me down. Yeah. BUT, what I wanted to say, waass, that.. [sorry forgot for a min] was that I don't really feel like going anymore because although they try their best I don't think they're going to help me. I'm not in the mood to have the option of anti-depressants shoved in my face. I don't have much faith or confidence that they will do anything significant, and although I was desperate yesterday, its faded a bit now so I don't think I will.

So the 'overwhelmed by what I was feeling' & 'mind in a dark place', this is a bit harder to describe but I will try.

As you know I often have phase of feeling insecure, inferior, etc, I get stressed by Uni, I get stressed by pretty much anything, the more time passes, the greater my fear of certain things get. Sometimes I feel like, and this will sound silly, but that I have no future, I can never estimate where I will be in X years because from a spiritual point of view, I feel as if my lifeline ends sometime within three years. This feeling has gotten stronger in the last 2-3 months. I feel really ooold. Honestly. Even though I'm 20, lol. The last ten years, looking back, feel like decades now. I have old-fashioned ideals anyway, but I don't see myself being very adaptable to the future. I don't want to see myself at 40. I don't have high hopes for where either I will be or the world around me will be. I often don't think of suicide as in giving up but more because I don't want to be here, I really don't want to be here, I feel surrounded by monsters and fucking idiots. I suppose because I am afraid, but we've covered that already.

I am constantly looking for methods to bring my mood up, I think about what people my age or generally what other people do, and I know 'other people' is accounting for over six billion people, I suppose I mean the Western stereotypes. Say for example they might go out clubbing or cinema or watch a movie or go to a restaurant or play computer games maybe, or draw or paint or just watch TV, or drink alcohol or do drugs, and as you know, I don't like to do ANY of those things. Doing them doesn't make me happy, not doing them doesn't make me happy, I'm a bit stuck, being an anomaly.

As for the thing I do like doing =/ I have dreams and things for the future, I really hope to find a way to bring in extra income to help the family, but, the way I am feeling brings it all to a halt. I haven't really been able to write or do my music (time), or read spiritual or health books (no time) or meet friends or family (money or time) or do anything that I really like, so I'm constantly distressed. Some days I don't feel so bad, and I try to hold onto that by playing some music or... whatever, I don't really know wtf I do, I seem to pass hours doing jack all.

Because of my eyes hurting, I can only read/use the computer for a limited amount of time. Reading and using my laptop is REQUIRED for my course, so it makes studying a pain. Sleeping, covered. My energy is always low. Eating, my eating has been bad so that's adding to the problem no doubt. Mama brought up a smoothie today so good start I guess, trying to erase two months of deviance.

So like I said, the hardest part is figuring out which part of the never-ending cycle I should attack first, because I think that would make the rest unravel, but it's not happening. Which is why I thought I should see someone.



There's lots more to say about it, about for example the dark thoughts I'm having or the fact that I'm considering dropping out of university or changing university, and that I've thought about leaving my job too (the moneyy, I need the moneyyy!)

...but I feel tired just writing the above, I'm sue you'll feel the same reading, my head is hurting looking at the screen as well so maybe another time.

I'm definitely coming to the show though, just let me know what time to meet you. I need to get out of this house.



S.K.

This World Makes Me Sick, I Wish I Was Dead.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm writing this for.

I have a Thoughtbook that I write my moods in as well, but this blog is no less private than that book. Why do I keep writing on here?

Maybe in my mind, as this blog is public, I'm hoping that either somebody can give me the answers I need or else one of my many many tested methods of trying to improve my mood will work for somebody else out there. I really hope so. I am so fucking tired of repeating the same old shit, and not entirely sure what else I can do. Anyone reading this blog must be weary to see me back at the same dark spot over and over. I know I haven't yet tried everything, but I've tried so much that I'm mentally exhausted.

Also, my conscious efforts to stay positive were reinforced by the realisation that my depression has a knock-on effect on Mama, and seeing her cry scares the crap out of me. She's a tough cookie to me. I hate seeing her so helpless.

I've been obsessed with Beyond: Two Souls lately. Usually when I'm obsessed with something, it's a happy distraction from daily life. However. Beyond: Two Souls is possibly the darkest story I have ever been obsessed with, so as much as I love it, it's actually bringing my mood down. I am wondering if that fact that it made me think so hard about the human condition is what brought my depression back so fast.

Today was an awful, awful day. A few different things happened that would have technically made it a bad day, but bad days, compared to my Black Moods (depression) don't phase me anymore. I can shrug of minor unfortunate events. But I'm gonna write it anyway, hoping that a coping technique will jump out at me as I do...

I went to university to get some research done, and on the way I did some foo shopping, not really thinking it through. I ended up filling the bag I brought to carry the library books with more shopping than I actually needed. Never mind. At the university library, the bag broke. Strike one. I had to find a way to carry that and I hadn't even got the books yet. That didn't bother me as much as it could have. I thought, 'Well never mind, I'll tuck the book under my arm, the walk to the bus stop is only 5-10 minutes'. PLUS the bus stop was end of the line so it would be empty when I got on.

When I got to the stop, I saw that the bus was one of the older models buses and for some reason I groaned inwardly but I don't know why. The older buses kinda feel dirty, but that might just be my OCD, I'm sure they do clean it. Funnily enough, I think my reaction prompted later events.

It took ages before the bus was ready to let on passengers, I think because the buses behind it were late. I got on, no prob, then three fifths of the way home we got caught in traffic. As it was taking so long, there were loads of people waiting at every stop, making the journey take longer. Four fifths of the way home, the bus broke down. An just-under-an-hour-journey became almost two hours. And of course I was juggling an armful of books and (broken) bagful of shopping. In my mind, I was like 'okay, this shit happens, fine, get over it.' but my arms were starting to ache from all the waiting and I was aware that I was running out of revision time.

Skipping the rest, when I got home, I had to spend ages tidying up my room so that I could even bloody walk in it, let alone get together my revision stuff; Friday I put all the stuff to sell on ebay in my room, I work weekends, Monday I was out, so today it was a complete tip. MUCH better when I finished but then it was half-two, and I was already feeling exhausted. I hadn't studied all day and at that point I felt a little blue, and I have no idea why because a that point it didn't feel like a 'bad day'.

But then it got a lot worse. For some reason, Unpleasant thoughts began to resurface in my mind and I couldn't get rid of them. Lately they've been such a problem that I listen to music to get to sleep, but at that time it wasn't working. So I got back up and watched some Pewdiepie videos to cheer me up but my mind was so wrecked that I rarely found myself laughing, then all of a sudden I felt like I couldn't control myself anymore, I started shaking and crying and feeling really afraid. It was as if it was uncontrollable. I felt beyond help.

I stayed up, clearing out my email and doing things I never seemed to have time for until my eyes hurt too much to continue. I read one of the books for my course, George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, which I'd been wanting to read for ages so I thought that would lift my spirits. Wrong. There's a part in the book, only a few pages in, that made me feel SO. SICK. I don't think it would have affected me so strongly if I hadn't felt the way I'd been feeling. I would have been disturbed, yeah... my actual thoughts were 'What the fuck is wrong with this author? Do men actually think this? Fuck. Fuck this. This world sucks. I don't want to be a part of it. Get me out of here.' These are usually the thoughts that make me wish I was dead. I feel so tired. I kinda want to cop out. Obviously I don't tell people that, just put my head down and get on, that's what you do.

So clearly, that particular part hit a nerve in me and I didn't want to read it anymore. I'm wondering if I can get by this module without reading it at all. That particular bit I read had really fucked my mind up. It's now an addition to the thoughts circling my head. Then I went to bed and put music in my ears to drown out my thoughts. I went to sleep - I won't say 'thankfully' which is what I'd like to say, because I had this fucking crazy nightmare, which I KNOW is because of all of these thoughts I'm having. I won't go into details but my Dad was in it, and I woke up feeling shaken and very very sad.

So when I got up, my Black Mood had returned. As I'm writing now, I just realised that I didn't even think of cutting myself which is the usual solution. That definately a plus, but now I know I need to see someone quickly. I've been avoiding this for so long since the last one. I'm dreading it.

I feel as if I haven't just gone in a circle, I've ended up in a worse place than before. I really have no idea what to do. I can't write my book when I'm feeling like this. I have NO IDEA what to do.

But people have fought their way out of this, so I've got to as well. Do or die, right?

Anywhoo. Life goes on. I'll find something. Play loud music to drown my thoughts. Find happy stuff to do. I'm sorry if there's typos, but I don't have the heart to read everything I just wrote again. I'm sure you'll live.

First thing tomorrow, I need to make some phone calls.



S.K.

What does your life mean?

[Though when I say 'your', I really mean 'my'.]

Loads of inspiration at the beach today. Am about to sit down and bang it all out, but I have a lot of worries that I need to breathe out into this blog first.

My parents aren't going to be around one day.

I get that now. I understand that I will still be living my life, making decision and friends, doing my job, doing my best to be happy and make others happy, and they won't be there to talk to if I am sad, I won't be able to hear my Dad joking with me, I can't hear my mother's soothing voice, I can't share my joy with them when something good happens, I can't say, 'look at what I did!' or 'look at this book I (highly tempted to say 'writ'... it almost rhymes) wrote!', I can't give them more reasons to be proud of me and not feel like I was a miserable, wayward daughter, because they won't be there. This won't mean a damn to you.

I know I always said I'm never going to have children, and I'm highly skeptical of relationships, but I can see why people go through it. The fear of loneliness is paralysing. If you've lost your family, why not start your own?

I have endless brothers and sisters though, some that I don't even know about. It's so, so bizarre to think that they hold a fragment of my (my father's) genes and may pass them on. But it's my parents who make, or rather complete, the family. Dada and Mama talk easily about 'when they die' - they've lived their life, they've long accepted that it will one day be time for them to go. I'm 20 and I can't fucking accept that. I am such a fucking emotional wreck already that it might realistically destroy me. I don't want to watch them deteriorate.

Sorry for the swear. I feel like crying. (Okay I'm lying. Just wiped away my tears.)

On the drive back from the beach, Dada spoke about his parents heritage, about how my great grandfather came from the Ashanti tribe, in Ghana I think (will need to double check that) and was supposedly the caribbean equivalent of royalty. That stuns me. My Dad exaggerates sometimes (then again who else could I ask?) but he doesn't lie. I already knew that my ancestors were, by the standards of the time, wealthy. Royalty? Interesting.

Now look at me. Waiting for my student loan to come through so that I can have a smile on my face. Because, as you know, money is magic.

My grandparents and greats will never know that their son's son had me, that I am sitting here typing about them on a machine they could never have even imagined. This sort of thing tears me the fuck up. (Sorryfortheswear.) My brain, my stupid brain, can't stop turning it over. Also, this depressingly beautiful/beautifully depressing Heavenly Sword soundtrack is probably not helping... (endingcredits)

Awwwww laptop power run out... hang on while I get the cord...
Slightly lost my train of thought now...

Sometimes the world feels huge. Sometimes it feels so small. I feel like I have power to do anything when I'm elated. At other times, I am nothing, nobody, swept away in fifty years to be forgotten and replaced by another billion humans.

I can't help it. I know one day I will mean nothing, but I do want to feel that I made a difference while I was here, maybe changed the world for the better? On the drive back, I kept wondering to myself, imagine if I died on this motorway and all of this work, everything on my laptop and email that I have crafted and jigsawed together over the years of my life, poof, gone, just like that.

Like my old friend, Hannah Defoe.

I didn't know she had died until I sat down for my break at work last Saturday and opened the Metro to see her picture and details of the court case surrounding her death. I was stunned, I couldn't concentrate on work all day. There's more. She hadn't died recently. She passed away a long while ago. I've been disconnected from facebook and rarely speak to my old Dance Umbrella friends, so of course I wouldn't have known. But it makes me feel beyond strange, beyond unsettled. Hannah Defoe passed away, I didn't know or feel a thing while her parents must have felt their whole world turn upside down. It's not enough to say my heart goes out to them. My heart won't be worth a thing to them. They want their daughter.

I wanted to blog about it, but didn't know how. Hannah is one of the few people at Dance Umbrella that I can think of and remember exactly what she was like. She was really funny, she had a wicked dance style, I'd say she spoke lowly most of the time and didn't raise her voice much, she had nice wavy hair (in the Metro photo it was straightened), and she was very cool, if you get me. As in, very suave. Is suave right? (Probably not) She was great fun to be with and I don't remember having any issues with her, but we weren't close enough friends to have that squabbling going on.

She'll have friends that can give a description ten times better and more accurate than that, because that was how I knew her when I went to Dance Umbrella and that had to be four years ago.

I am completely different to how I was four years ago and depression had definitely touched me in a bad way. I'm pulling out of it, but I'm not as optimistic as I used to be. So although I felt shaken and upset at discovering she was gone by an impersonal means, I was also upset that I hadn't kept up with who she'd become and that we'd fallen out of touch. Linking back to four-ish paragraphs ago, that was why I started thinking hard about if I was just snatched away. Hannah was 20 when she passed, the age I am now.

I really pray that her parents can get to the bottom of the issue and find peace. Maybe not happiness but peace, at least.

Yeah, lots of dark thoughts circling my head today, the ravens. It's like, you get one, and others come.Oh, on a completely different note, I've discovered I don't hate seagulls so much after all! They have a pretty amazing way of flying against the strong breeze from the sea. Loved watching them, actually. Though... not when they came too close.

Today is the first day in the last two weeks that I haven't felt like my existence on earth was using up valuable air and why am I still alive again? What the hell is it all for? Whose grand scheme dictates that I should be here, wishing to not be here? Feeling like I'm out of sync with a world so eager to eb cut above the rest that it can't take a breath and see that there is a destructive element that is touching lives, nature, their own children...?

So in comparison, today was definitely a good day. Well, until now, I guess...

I think I could say more, but I need to end this because I have to write the material I thought up today for my book before bed. I think I will leave the Vlog today, maybe tomorrow though. But I won't do it if I wake up happy, because... why kill the mood?



Star .

p.s. Sorry for the typos. Fix 'em later.
p.p.s I always say that. Oh well.
p.p.afteritookashower.s. Took tired to write my book now. Tomorra. Gonna hit the hay.

Broken

Super Spoiler: Briefly talking about the end of the Hunger Games. BuzzTF off if you haven't read it yet.


When I finished reading the last book of the Hunger Games series, all I could think about was how broken she was. Broken. So many people she loved, gone, or no longer trustworthy. Their whole society - broken. Katniss - broken. The nightmares, awful memories, and deaths of loved ones would haunt her until her dying day. Whoever is in charge of Panem will try to make her a pawn until the very end. She's broken. She's completely broken. And she will never ever be the same again.

Not to compare my life to a (fictional) war on such a massive scale, but a destruction is happening inside of me, quietly, internally. Last year, something happened to some unreachable part of me that has tainted it, and I don't know what it is, but it has broken me. I will never be the same.

A friend said something to me in distress - she said that she hopes to God that she doesn't have depression because it never goes away. I remember feeling so angry with her because I'd never felt better in my life than I did right then, and I wanted to be the one in charge of my life and my emotions. I was convinced that I would come out on the winning side. But it is a sham, a hope, a hallucination, a sick mockery of what my life really is. It is nothing.

I never thought I would ever fully understand what it was like to be depressed. It's something I never talk about. Anyone who's been there, truly been there, will know that wrenching feeling, about not even knowing where to start when someone offers to be a confidant. Those who can open up about it - I admire them. But not me. No more. I'm done. I don't think I will have the heart to post on this blog any more, though I will try to hang on to any event that makes me happy, for as long as humanly possible. What concerns me most right now is how it will end. How will I do it? How will I commit suicide? I don't have the guts to do it. But when I think about my future, I don't see anything. There is nothing but the realisation of who I am, what life is. Nothing. Like I said. Hopefully, I can get back into the swing of pretending I am happy and that it means something, that I am not a small pawn in a scale of something far grander and far beyond my control. But this moment of reflection has helped me understand this basic fact about existence. It's horrible. I am happy for those who don't yet know it. Maybe it is the cause of chronic depression - because those who suffer it really know what's going on. Maybe. Probably.

________________________________________

Power Songs

Perfect for when I feel as f****** melancholy as I feel now. Most are from games - songs without lyrics are like a soundtrack to my life. Not just songs I like, the Power Songs. They are the most important, more than any others at the moment. There will definitely be one I've missed, but whoTF cares.

POWER SONGS

Coldplay - X&Y
Jessie Ware - Wildest Moments (EVERY TIME)
Newton Faulkner - Teardrop (can't believe I'm saying this, but I've grown to like this more than Massive Attack's original version.)
Paramore - Stuck On You
Oasis - Keep The Dream Alive
Thomas Newman - Brooks Was Here & Any Other Name, but although there is power when I listen, the songs are so sorrowful that it also provokes depression.

Jade Empire
Jack Wall - Main theme
Jack Wall - Metropolis I and II

Ergo Proxy
Monoral - Kiri

The Legend Of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Fi's Theme
Fi's Gratitude
Fi's Farewell
Lanayru Sand Sea (the two notes at the beginning give me shivers. Listen in headphones.)
Sailing The Sand Sea (when playing the actual game, the song isn't done justice. The full thing on youtube is epic.)

Gunslinger Girl (Anime)
The Delgados - The Light Before We Land
Aoi Tada / Lia - Doll
Ootani Kou - Kanashimi

Nabari No Ou
Michiro Oshima - Main Theme: Seijaku
Michiro Oshima - Tobari no Ketsui
Michiro Oshima - Departure
Anamu & Maki - Aru Ga Mama
VELTPUNCH - CRAWL (EVERY TIME.)



Blogvomit
Oh God. Has anyone ever felt this exhaustion so strong that it really makes them wish they were dead? How can they take another step, breathe another breath, think another thought? I feel as if the moment I stop typing, I will shut down. I want to eat and sleep and cry. The weather is so nice today. That makes me feel even more blue. (Don't ask me to explain that.) Lately, the moment I start to get tired, my mood plummets like an anchor thrown into in the sea. I never used to feel like this at just tiredness. It's fuckin horrible.

Damn... I'm more disturbed than I thought. I need help.


Star.
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I'm Scared

The last time I felt like this, I had this craft knife and I was etching parallel lines into my arm, watching the blood slowly drain into the valleys of those cuts. The scars are fading, but the feeling is coming back. Too numb and mentally worn out to cry. Wish I could cry, it might make me feel better. Wish I could at least shed a tear for the dreams I am cradling close to me, hopes of a nice future, my creativity expelled - productive outlets for my anxiety fear rage helplessness loneliness rioting-imagination, my secret happy dreams, disintegrating in my arms. Wish I was dead.

Disillusionment

I know I will get it done. One day.

I know that everything I am striving for is waiting for me.

I know that, come tomorrow, I will as be happy as a... thing that is perpetually happy.

But this feeling, right here, right now, feels like death. It is heavy and dark and oppressive. All of my goals and dreams still waiting to be realised sit weightily on my shoulders. I feel bloated. I feel slow, cumbersome, tiresome  weary.

I have so much to say, and to show. There are people, stories, morals, philosophies, magical places and the most incredible creatures. They run riot. There is not enough space inside my head to contain them all. I have so much inside of me that is waiting to be loosed. I want to set it free like opening a fistful of confetti to the wind. I want it to trail behind me like ribbons and make me smile every time I look back.

Well.

For the time being, all I can do is eat my sorrow away, sleep until I am refreshed or dead, and make - yes, another one, my fifth so far... a new blog.

We may or may not soon be graced with the Pink Sovereign.



Star.
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Looking Back

 From Secret Escapes. These images are so therapeutic for me. This looks like a haven...

“The world makes me sick. I also make myself sick. I must seem like I wallow in self-pity every minute of the fucking day. 

I guess it's kind of true. Sometimes I think of nothing aside from how revolting this world is. So corrupted. It's as if I am the only person here, even though I am surrounded with people. I can't connect with anybody, and in day-to-day existence, I pretend for an hour or a few hours at a time that I do feel, that I do exist. After that, I don't know what I am. 

-- Star ”

I wrote that a couple of months ago.

When I look back at S.K.'s words and I feel so sad for her - me - whoever, all of me and my secret alters. Just to reiterate, S.K. is the 'depressed me'. She hasn't come out in a couple of months. I don't miss her, but I do wonder what happened. That why I was looking back over my 'Depression And Stress' posts.

I don't know if I can call it Looking Back yet, it has only been about a month. So many people have noted how much calmer, happier and jokier I am. They say I laugh so much more now. I've noticed it myself. When I think about it in idle moments, I'm so overcome with relief and gratitude that I came out the other end.

So who am I now? Good question...

Am I back to truly being 'Star?' I think I am closer than I've ever been since I first lost myself. Noriko is back for sure, but I'm surprised to say that Shay's made a few appearances (if making cat noises around the house is any measure, heh). I feel as if I have a good grip on my life at the moment. For that, I am truly grateful. I also saw one of my (my? S.K.'s? Sometimes all the parts of me merge together) old posts from this time last year. I remember I'd listened to The Miracle Of Self Discipline and felt so inspired. Then, a month or a few months later, I just crashed. Nobody could explain what happened to me, why I became depressed so fast and so intensely.

Because that was such a key example of depression going in circles, there is a little fear in me that it will come back. I know that if I stay aware, focussed, and remember that there are people around to help me, I'll be fine. But once when Pixie called me late at night, once again very upset about her personal troubles, I suggested that maybe she was depressed - a lot of what she said sounded like depression to me - and she said with a lot of anguish that (in essence) she prayed to hell it wasn't because depression never goes away.

As she is one of the people who knew about my own struggle with It, those words did make me feel a little offended. After all, she'd also noted the change in me. I get that Pixie was too upset to realise what she'd said and what her words meant - that I was cursed for life.

I didn't know if I should've felt anger or despair. At the time, I didn't feel anything. But I'm not sure I'll be picking up any more late night calls if I'll feel worse when I put the phone down. I have my own life to get on with now.

Star .

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Meditative Reflective Depression

Did I become so deeply depressed upon realisation that I cannot be saved? I am only a little person, a human being, an insignificant among thousands of disgraceful, disgusting and evil others. I am pathetic; I cannot help become uselessly upset when the slightest harsh word is said to me. I cry over my own uselessness and lack the courage to die, where I might be happy.

I am so pitifully naive that I have probably unconsciously turned a blind eye to every time somebody has teased me, been racist towards me, spoke lies to my face that I simply accepted as truth, because it is so hard for me to imagine that people can be so cruel. But when it is staring me in the face, I unravel. I cut, and bleed.

I look at the picture above to transport me.

It would be so nice, just for a moment, to escape there, and not worry about money, my constant studying for bullshit educational purposes, friends, family, my purpose in life, my mortality, and my shortcomings as a human being. It would be so nice.



Star xx
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The Sad Truth

I can't sleep. I feel so upset that I just want to close my eyes and rest so that tomorrow will be here, but I can't sleep. The more I am aware, the more I'm just lying here, thinking about what it upsetting me - and the more I can't sleep. It's a vicious cycle that has robbed me of good sleep for the last few days, now.

I feel wrong. I feel like I'm not wired properly or something, like there's a part I'm missing that most people have, simple things like being able to go out, and have fun and not worrying about what other people think, and simply living life day by day without constantly thinking about killing yourself. Thinking back, I'm not even really sure I have ever been 'right', even when I was younger. I didn't think about it then, I was happier and carefree. But I have always been different. The fear that I will always be an outsider is a big part of why suicide haunts me.

What's so stupid is that I know I will never do it; commit suicide. I am scared of disappointing my Mum and I'm also scared that it will be painful. But what worries me is killing myself by impulse, or by mistake.

I am cutting myself again, even though I promised my therapist I wouldn't. My promises don't mean much now anyway - there was a time when a promise made by me was law. I am disappointed in myself for being weak, and distressed that by being weak I am disappointing people who are trying to help me, like my Mum. I don't think she knows what to do, any more. Maybe she doesn't care. She loves me, but I am never happy nowadays and I guess I don't really know how a Mum of six is supposed to deal with one clinically depressed daughter either.

Because I have been self-harming and I have been so upset, tension makes my body ache, and my cuts hurt whenever I sit, lie down, stretch, so on. I'm glad to feel them, because it distracts me from destructive thoughts, and in that brief moment my mind is blissfully blank.

I don't know how to stop myself thinking. I have asked countless people for help; my friends, my family, and mental health specialists. I feel like they have abandoned me, even when they are around, because they don't know how to deal with me.

The sad truth is that I don't know how to deal with myself.

I desperately need to find a constructive way to distract myself from my thoughts of unhappy or embarrassing situations; thoughts of whether or not I have made the right course change; thoughts of how much I hate myself and everything that I am, my face and my name; thoughts of suicide and sudden panic-attacks - without cutting. As long as I live, I must find the answer. If I don't, then that is of no consequence, because I will obviously be dead.



Star.
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Guitar God: Joe Satriani

What's happening to me? Is this hormonal?

I was so upset yesterday. I would like to just give up with all this writing malarkey and dance and just said Fuck It All, looks like I'll never get to do the stuff I want to do, but at the same time, I don't think I'll really do it. I'M ASKING FOR HELP. I scare myself sometimes. Does anybody know how disgusting it is to tear your skin up with a craft knife you found in your brother's old school pencil case from years ago? Well let's not even go there then, because I'm getting tired of looking at parrallel scars on my wrists. It's twisted that even in self-harm, I am able to do it neatly. I have never liked mess.

(I hope to God nobody's reading this...) Somebody from the clinic called me yesterday. Finally. Now maybe I can see a f?£$#&*! counsellor.

Today, though, I felt a lot better. (I put the craft knife under my lamp so I wouldn't be tempted.) But I think that was inevitable. I couldn't feel any worse, so I would HAVE to feel better. If I felt any worse today, I wouldn't be alive. My tiny human brain couldn't handle it.

No words now. Just rock.


Joe Satriani - Searching

Mz Dark Star.
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Simon's Cat

I feel like ending it today. I feel so empty that it makes me angry, which stops me sleeping, which led to me being exhausted this morning. I am KNACKERED. Also, I feel like throwing myself under a car. But I will resolve to watch this whenever I feel like shit. It never fails to get a laugh out of me.

 


S.K.
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Breaking Point

I honestly hope no-one's reading this blog right now.

Whitney Houston passed yesterday. Or was it very early today? God, I don't know. I got the text from my brother today and simply couldn't believe it. It's simply tragic. My brother sent me another text after saying; 'You never know when you're gonna go that's why it's so important to enjoy life, live and be happy. RIP Whitney.' I really do wish I could be happy right now. Just like with Michael Jackson, it's weird to hear about the death of a person who had made such a mark on my childhood; my mother is a singer, and Whitney was one of her most beloved female artists, along with Mariah Carey, The Supremes, Etta James, the very back-in-the-day Rhythm&Blues and Soul singers. Countless, countless times, I've heard Whitney Houston's album blaring so loudly that this isn't a place in the house you can go to escape it, and there's Mama, singing right along with it.

Ironically, after receiving that sombre text this morning my day proceeded to get worse. Even as I'm sitting here, it's dawning on me that all the times I felt pointless, meaningless, unfulfilled and empty these past couple of weeks might not simply be the Mood Of The Day - and I no longer think it's teenage angst either. I don't think I've ever been so unhappy. I'm due to start University to study English and Dance next year and the thought of going turns my stomach. I don't even feel a passion for dance any more. It's something I 'do', not exactly something I 'live for' - and I only do it because it's the only thing that I've stuck with over the years and thus my only talent. I feel like its the only thing I can do - and even then, I don't invest in it at all these days.

I'm supposed to be writing a book. I can only ever get through it in short leaps - every time I see a book or advertisement of The Hunger Games, I feel discouraged. I feel like a fake - and I had my idea before I even knew what T.H.G. was. I've been at my new job for a week, and I'm starting to hate it. I can't take control of my eating habits and the days where I used to motivate myself to actively keep fit are a vague dream. All this shit I'm eating has made my skin terrible and I've gone back to a recurring compulsive habit I have, some fucking ridiculous nervous disorder where I can't stop absent-mindedly clawing at my skin until it bleeds. It's such an old stress habit that I don't even think about it any more, but it must sound awful. And disgusting. I don't know why I haven't got blood poisoning. There's this gnawing pain in my gum that flares up randomly and makes it difficult to concentrate - I'm hoping it's not my wisdom tooth again. I'm biting down on it now - it hurts in the way your nerves throb when you bang the funny bone in your elbow. It's feels weird - and it just hurts. Even my sister says that me being miserable isn't a temporary phase for me any more... it's my character.

This both upset and frustrated me. I can't be happy for everyone - at work, I'm known as cheerful and upbeat, and I manage to keep myself in this frame of mind until I can finally come home and cry. So either my colleagues get the shit end or my family do. I know who is more important. Now that I've changed locations, I find it difficult to maintain that boundless positivity I had before. At first I simply thought that I was just uncomfortable in a new location, but after today, I realised that it wasn't discomfort. It was dislike. For someone like me, who always tries to see the bright side of things, I couldn't help but entertain thoughts of resigning, or maybe being fatally injured so I won't have to.

God. I sound suicidal now. I hope no-one's reading this. I'd better post loads of shit tomorrow to push this post to the bottom.

I feel I needed to address this somewhere... here seemed the best place; I don't really like to offload on other people. Usually I talk to Mama, but she has a few troubles of her own at the moment. Still, I know it's not good to sit with all this on my chest and let it brew. I feel as if I've already reached my limit of how much I can take and I want to do something to change my situation, turn this mess around and shake off this depression that follows me everywhere. I'm sick of trying to please people and I'm sick of 'sorry' being the only word out my mouth these days. It makes me sad to think that my enthusiastic little brother is growing up to think that I'm always like this - he doesn't remember the time when I was just like him, happy and laughing all the time.

From what I've learned, I can't expect answers to fall into my lap, I have to assertively make the adjustments myself, and I know this. When I change my mindset and get rid of these negative thoughts, the energies around me will also change - that's why I've been making an effort to do creative things like paint, draw, even something as mindless as colouring in, to calm my nerves. Although it is effective for a while, eventually I end up feeling like how I do today, and those activities hold no appeal to me. But of course I will continue to try, even though it will be difficult. I don't believe that it's impossible for me to be happy, but I'm starting to feel at a loss as to how I can help myself. I guess I'll keep praying as I do every night, until something comes to me. 

SK.
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