I could be the one

I've been off meds for a week or two now. I don't feel any different, but... Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe it's all in my fucking useless, mental, quilt-ridden head. I don't know what to do with myself. Then again, I never have. I've never been happy with myself, at least not for as long as I can remember. I've always resented myself. For everything I am, everything I have done and everything I do and say.

It's hard to be around people. It's hard to talk to them. It's hard to look at them while knowing just how much you hate yourself. But the problem isn't that. No, the problem is my inability to let the fuck go. I can't do that. It hurts me so goddamn much to dwell in the past which sure as hell wasn't sugar and rainbows, but I can't let go. No matter how much it hurts, it's... safe. Yeah, it's safe. I am not entirely sure whether I'm here because only I want to, but I am sure that I've been left behind.

I've said this so many times I've lost count, despite not ever keeping any. I can't do anything right. I always say the wrong things, I can do nothing except let people down and hurt them. Which removes my right to be upset when they hurt me in return. I really deserve it all. I do, I fucking do.

But I'm trying. I'm trying so fucking hard. It's difficult, though. Everything keeps reminding me of the mistakes I made with everyone and I can't help but to wonder what should I have done and said to be saved from that bullshit. Should I have been more social when I was younger? Should I have killed myself when the bullying got worse? Should I have done something differently? I reckon I'll never know.

What's done is done. I can't forgive myself, ever, even if everyone who I've ever hurt forgives me. I can't forget, I can't put the past behind me and just move on. I am not like that. Maybe everything does happen for a reason. I wonder what it could've been I did in my previous life. Maybe I burned down an orphanage for puppies.

Whatever it was, all this happens for a reason and if there's ever going to be a chance for me to be truly, utterly happy; I'll take it.

Fucking hell this gets old. It's the same rant every fucking time. And I am so sorry for that.

Doryan the Enlightened

It's almost 0.00 and I have school tomorrow, but I decided to be, once again, pathetic and come vent about my insignificant little life. I wonder what's wrong with me. There's a part of me that wants to put myself out there, be social and, you know, do things. But then, there's a bigger part of me that wants to wrap tighter around myself, wants to crawl deeper into the shell I've built around myself. That part of me that doesn't want to do anything but lay down and die.

And maybe it's just because I am... lonely, and maybe it's not. In a way, I like being alone and I want to be alone. But there's a difference. There's a difference between being lonely and being alone. I don't want a massive group of friends, I have never been any good with those. All I want is one person who doesn't leave me, who is willing to stick with me, who is willing just to be my friend. I reckon there aren't many of those. Hell, I reckon there aren't any of those.

Which is why I am thankful for the few who haven't left. And yet I can't bring myself to hate the ones who have. Why? Because, the sad truth is, I understand why they left. I blamed them when I was younger because I was in denial, I wasn't ready to face that it was all my fault. I remember being 10 or 11 and crying, asking my mum why no one wanted to be my friend. I reckon it's one of the saddest memories I have. I don't cry in front of anyone.

But as years went past, I started seeing all the awful faults everyone else had seen in me, and I started detesting myself. That turned to hate. I often found myself thinking how much easier it would be if I just didn't exist. If I just wasn't here. That was quite easy to imagine, as people who had been big parts of my life pretended I didn't exist anymore. Pretended I wasn't there, like I never meant anything to them. Which I probably didn't.

I am tired. But despite that, I still have dreams. I have things I want to accomplish and do, there are places I want to see. Maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep down, I am not ready to lose them just yet. Maybe I still want to have hope, maybe I still want to believe I can somehow swim through this endless, cold ocean. Maybe I can.

Maybe I can't. Maybe the real thing keeping me down, wearing me down is myself. Destroy what destroys you, right? I am the thing that destroys me. I take it as I have to destroy myself before I can ever be truly happy. If I still can, that is. Maybe I lost my chance. Maybe I did something so bad, so unforgivable that I am doomed to be forever like this.

I often wonder what I should have done differently in order to be happy now. Should I have been more social when I was younger? Should I have made more friends? Should I have been better? I reckon I'll never know. I'm not sure if I want to, though. Maybe this is my destiny.

But maybe something can make me happy again. Maybe there will be a light that will shine upon me, to breathe life into me, to bring me back to life. I want to have hope, I want to believe. It's just hard. Fuck, I am so tired.

Tribute to the past

They do not care, they never did. They never will. They only blame me. It is okay, really, I blame myself too. I hate myself more than anyone ever could. And I am sure a lot of people do, in their hearts. They might not tell me that, they might want to pretend I do not exist anymore. But I can see it. All the little things they did, the details, I see them now. I understand - when they pretend I am not here, they can be happier, they can forget the things I never will. They can forget the things I did not do for them and hate me today, maybe even tomorrow. If it makes them happier, it's fine by me. Really. If I would not be here, a lot of people would have had happier moments in their pasts. I am only here to fuck things up.

That is all I have done these past years. The guilt is catching up to me, it is eating me alive. I only wish that they could see that they are not the only ones suffering, I wish they could just give me a break. Not that I deserve it, though. I have said all of these things before. To empty walls. They do not care to listen, no one does. They want to move on and they have, they have forgotten everything, everything I never will. I am left here in the past picking up pieces of my heart and soul, shattered across this empty starlight room. Who will pick me up?

I know now why it is always winter in my dreams. Winter is a symbol of ill-health, depression and misfortune, it can also be analogous to how you feel. Emotionally cold and frigid. I know now why someone often has a video camera in my dreams. Someone using a video camera in your dream indicates that you are reflecting back on your past and old memories. I know now why there are of then photographs in my dreams. Photographs in your dream means that you are clinging on to the past and false hope. I know now why there is always snow in my dreams. Snow is a symbol of inhibitions, unexpressed emotions and feelings of frigidity. It can also mean that you feel indifferent, alone and neglected.

It all makes sense now. I understand my dreams have been trying to tell me things - I only now see how well they reflect me. Everything I can never say out lout can be found out from my dreams. When I dream, I often dream of running away from something. Running away from someone in a dream indicates that you are trying to avoid something, or you are not facing your fears. I am fascinated of the things my subconsciousness is trying to tell me in my dreams. My dreams are often very vivid, I can remember certain places. I am always present in my dreams, even though I am not always me.

Maybe one day I can be free, too.

I noticed that this blog actually turned 4 in April 2014. As much as I would love to delete the old posts, I will not. It is funny to see how much I have changed in four years.

Shadowgate

I want to scream, but I can't. I want to cry, but I can't. I want to disappear, but I can't. What the hell am I supposed to do, I can't breathe, my thoughts are like a tornado of the mind, my chest hurts. Everything hurts. All the memories come flooding back and I can't take it. It hurts. They hurt. Everything hurts.

When I was younger I didn't want to blame myself for anything. I wanted to push the blame on other people, because it seemed like something I should do. However, as years went by, I found myself blaming myself for everything that went wrong. A friend moved away. Probably my fault. Friends left me. My fault, it happened so many times, it had to be my fault. I did everything wrong. I must have been a terrible person. Fuck, I still am. I still do everything wrong. I don't care enough, I care too much. I'm too cold, I'm too nice. I have always done everything wrong. And now, I see it so clearly, I have no one left to blame for my uselessness and loneliness but me. Poor, old fucking miserable me.

I did all of this to myself. I made everyone hate me, I made everyone leave me. I was always too different, it's like I deliberately asked for people to treat me like they did. I haven't always been so good to people either. Hell, I must have treated my own friends like shit. I have been so awful to everyone. I always say the wrong things. I don't mean to, I never have, the words just come out of my mouth before I can think and before I know it, I have hurt everyone. And knowing that makes it painful. Knowing that I lost it all by being such a dick to everyone, and knowing that I can never make it up to anyone, I can never get anything back.

I have to suffer now, I realise, because of what I have done in my past. I should have stopped. But I didn't, and I hurt people. I deserve all of this, don't I? I don't have any rights to complain. It's all my fault, really. When I hurt people, I began destroying myself. I just didn't notice it before. But everyone does that, don't they? It's nicer to push the blame on everyone else, it's the easy way out. No. I have had enough. I have to stand up now and take all of this pain now. It's the only way I can make it up. If not to the people I hurt, then to me. I can't forgive myself. I am a terrible person.

It's true, though, everything they said to me. How could I ever have told myself it wasn't, since I repeat the words to myself every day? I have to stand up and face all the suffering. It's the only way I can make myself feel even.

To everyone I have hurt. I am sorry. But I hate myself more than you ever could. I am sorry for everything. I am so sorry for not saying sorry before, for not being able to say sorry, for still not being able to come up and say it. I am pathetic. I am sorry. For everything. Please. I am not asking anyone to forgive me. My guilt is eating me alive. I am sorry. For everything I said and everything I did. I am sorry. I am sorry for being like this. I am sorry for not caring. Or better yet, I did care, I always have fucking cared but I am sorry for not being able to show it like everyone else. I am too damaged for that. God. Excuses after excuses.

I am sorry.

Eternal world

I haven't written anything proper for a while and I thought I could now, since I really don't have anything else to do at the moment. It's 1.34 and Saturday the 14th of September. Like you probably know as I said it before, I got sick on Wednesday and I've had fever for 3 days (though I didn't today, yay) so I wasn't at school. Kinda nice, since I sometimes get really stressed and anxious because of school and just need to get out of there for a few days. Anyway, I thought I could do something I don't think I have ever done before.

I'll tell you my story. Not everything, like when and where I was born and what was the first thing I ever ate and whatnot. No, I will start from kindergarten (also because I only remember bits of kindergarten and elementary school, my memory is really bad).

When I was in kindergarten, I was six, my little sister was born. I remember having conflicted feelings about it, as all the staff there were congratulating me and telling me to congratulate my parents too. I mean, I was old enough to know that I wouldn't be the only one getting all the attention anymore and I have to admit, I sometimes still wish I had more attention from my parents, especially since I'm moving away in three years or so. I don't remember much of kindergarten, I had a mate or two and everything was relatively easy. Although I did get punched in the face but I can't really remember it so it's alright.

Next year I went to grade 1, the elementary school. Grade 1 wasn't so bad, I did get picked on but not so much at first, I had a friend who was a year older than me and I had a few mates on my own class, too. During grades 1, 2 and 3 things went a bit downhill for me, as my ''best friend'' would always lead me from one trouble to another. Like, we would always be late and teachers sent notes to my parents and obviously they didn't approve of me being friends with her. I did nothing to avoid these problematic situations, however, I was like a dog on a leash. I practically did everything I was told and looking back, that is probably the reason why I hate being told what to do. It is also why I come off as a bit bossy, I am just scared that someone will put me in a leash again and control me. 

Anywho, in grade 2 I found out that this mate of mine had been talking shit about me behind my back, but since I practically, being the little fucker I was, worshipped her, I did not realise that I couldn't trust her. I was a twat back then, I really was. She was actually one of the people picking on me, calling me whatever names, as it got gradually worse during grade 2. I was constantly being bullied because of my height (which actually led to me having a height complex and it was, for a long time, something I was really embarrassed about), calling me 'pea' or some other things like that. I have always had a round face and I got called names because of that too, I was also called fat and even something about my lips, too. Luckily no one ever picked on me because of my diabetes. 

So grade 2 was the turning point when it all went straight to hell. One thing I'll always remember because it was really so incredibly stupid thing to say but at the time it hurt like hell, and it happened when I was at the cafeteria, going to a table along with my classmates and one of the girls blocked my way and said ''You might want to think about how tall you are''. It doesn't make any fucking sense! Like I could've magically decided that oh hey, I'm going to grow taller, no fucking way, it doesn't work like that. That's just something I think I'll always remember, I suppose.

In grade 3 my so-called ''best mate'' moved away which, even though saddened me at first, led to me doing better at school since I wasn't in trouble after that, at least not so much. At one point, I think it was in early grade 3 or late grade 2, the girls in my class had this stupid thing that each of us should, at their turn, be alone for a week, and guess who they chose first. Yeah, me. And somehow I got left alone after that week, and I couldn't believe that I had actually though that they would do it too. I was a twat, I already told you that. Anyway, at some point in grade 3 I got a mate. I thought that she would always be there and that we'd always be mates. Everything was all fine and dandy.

Grade 4 had nothing special to tell about. I can't remember a lot from it, mainly because nothing really happened. I did still get picked on, occasionally, but not that much. I reckon other people in my class were wondering why was my mate hanging out with her, you know, I've always been 'that weirdo'. It never bothered me, though, I just wish that they would've left me alone with it, instead of constantly reminding me that I was never going to fit in with anyone. And I never did.

In grade 5 my world came crashing down. It was only a few weeks after summer holiday, actually. I had an appointment, for a diabetes check-up, at the hospital, so I was absent that day. I had no idea what was coming and I certainly wasn't prepared. We had just left the hospital, my dad and me. I remember sitting in the car, I even remember the fucking part of the road we were at. Fucking memory, always remembers things I'd rather forget. I remember getting a text. Just a simple text from a mate of mine that said ''She said she hates you''. At first, I was confused. I remember thinking something like who, who is she and why does she hate me? I probably asked something like that. And yes, it was that ''best mate'' of mine. This mate, who had sent me the text, had overheard them people talking near the playground at the schoolyard, talking about me, and my 'mate' had said that she hated me. Next day I went to school and she didn't sit next to me on the bus. I knew then that it had been just a big fucking lie. I hated everyone and everything.

I remember wanting to die. I kept asking myself what did I do wrong. I kept wondering if the others had converted her or if she had been pretending all along. I was confused and I thought I was going mad. Then everything cleared, if only for a while. I got mates, two of them. I've never had so much fun with anyone. We did a lot of stuff together and we always had fun - we hung out, oh those times when I actually went somewhere else to be with someone. I guess I ruined that too. 

When we got into a fight over a thing that didn't matter, one of them 'left' me and the other girl. It wasn't anything big or special, I s'pose, but yet I found myself asking, is it me again? I later on heard that she did in fact blame me for everything. I was mad, yeah, but I couldn't blame her for blaming me. I blamed myself too. I always have blamed myself for losing people and I've always hated myself for my failed friendships. Because I am a worthless piece of shit, that's why.

Anyway, back to the main thing. After it was just my only mate and I, we both got bullied since we shared a love for anime and manga, things obviously too weird for the others. Looking back now, I wonder how did I pull through all that shit. The first time I ever hurt myself was when I was 11. I remember hating the German classes the most. They were probably the reason why I didn't continue German in secondary school. 

Grade 6 went like grade 5, nothing special there. Bullying, but we were always with that 'it's us against the world'-attitude and we had a tendency to say some 'nice' things back to the people who bullied us. At one point that mate we had a fight with blamed us for having no friends, and I do not think I have ever been so ticked off before in my life. I mean. I still do not get it.

So elementary school, basically, was a hell for me and I was so glad to get out. That's why I will stop here, because there was nothing that out of ordinary in secondary school which I want to tell about. Yeah, there were fights and things that led me hurting myself again and left me confused and alone, but I think I learned to accept what I should have in the beginning - the fault is in me. The people who left me, it wasn't their fault and it's not fair to blame them. It was my fault, all along, there's just something in me that pushes people away and that's why no one sticks with me. Or if they do, they'll always have someone who is more important. It's kind of sad, actually, to realise that you're no one's best friend or favourite person.

I want to admit that I am crying while writing this. It brings up memories I do not want to remember anymore, all the things and people and words and places. I am used to putting up a front. People have said to me that I give vague answers and that I appear to be all calm and collected, when I most definitely am not. I just do not want anyone to see me. I like being alone, but I hate being lonely. I am struggling at school every day, every fucking day is filled with anxiety. I see people with their friends, and I realise how alone I am, it hurts. Group projects make me want to impale myself with a pen, I do not function well in a group. My medication sure as hell isn't helping me and I am probably going to regret writing this, but I just need to let it all out. Even if no one is there to read it, even if no one cares.

All I would want to know is that what is wrong with me? Why does everyone do this to me? Is it really my fault? Am I really such a failure? I lie all the time and say I do not think about killing myself or hurting myself. These thoughts are there every day. Sometimes worse, sometimes almost gone. If I could decide, I would never leave my room. I do not like talking about my problems because I always feel like I am bothering people. I am only wrapping myself up tighter in this shell. 

But this is all I have to say for now. I probably won't write anything this long and proper for a while, so... Don't expect it. If anyone even bothers to read this. Oh, who am I kidding. No one gives a fuck. Why should they, since I stopped caring a long time ago? I am not the only one with problems - I get that. That is why I do not talk about my problems - they are insignificant. 

Just like me.

Also I am not naming any names here, as you can tell, and I am not going to name anyone. All these things happened years ago, and they don't really matter anymore.Well, they do for me but not for anyone else.

Have a nice Sunday and stay metal.

silent as a butterfly

I'm tired... I just wish I could go to sleep and never wake up...

People would often ask me, and probably everyone, what are they afraid of. For a long time I really didn't know what to say. Maybe all those basic things, like snakes and heartbreaks, but in the end, everyone's going to get their heart broken and feelings hurt. So I thought, what am I afraid of? And now, I think I finally have an answer.

I'm afraid of life. I'm afraid of all the things that could happen, are happening and have happened. Life is... scary. Just think of all the diseases you can get, all kinds of assaults and beatings, never mind all the emotional and mental suffering... It's scary. Life is unpredictable. You can be happy one second and dead the next, and you'll never know how it happened.

That's why I would probably give anything if I could stay in my room for the rest of my life and not to face life. I don't want to find out what's going to happen to me in the future, or what isn't. The events that currently take place are bad enough.

Everyone hurts. And often, when they do, they act like they are the only ones who hurt, feel sad and cry. Well, they're not alone. No one can know how someone feels, so you can't go to someone and just say; stop crying, you're not hurting, you're just faking it all. You can never know. You could be the one who pushes those people over the edge, when they lose it. 

People are eager to blame someone, anyone but themselves for their problems. When in reality, often they create them on their own. People can be triggering and they can hurt you, but in the end, it's in your own head. If you choose to be sad and miserable all the time, you are.

And yet, they don't see how their words, such little words and actions, can hurt someone else so much. So much, even years after they wonder what did they do to deserve to hear that, to be called that. 

I can ask these same questions. What did I do to deserve to get bullied for so many years, to hear all those things they said to me? What did I do to deserve to be left alone, to be thrown away like nothing, to be failed by the people I trusted the most? Maybe I'll never know. Or maybe I already do.

It's because I'm selfish and heartless, isn't it? I've heard that so many times I can't even count. Do you just know how it makes you feel when one time after another you're being told that everything you say and do is wrong, it's like you're not even allowed to speak.

So I ask myself, why do I wear that same smile every day? Why do I keep on going, when I feel like just going away. I wouldn't bother coming back. For some people, it'd be a nightmare. A dream for me, honestly. To be... gone, in a far away place where no one can fuck you up. To disappear, leave all the people behind, maybe start something new. 

With scars from the past, is that really possible? Why can't I... work, just like everyone else? Why am I made of pieces that don't fit together like they're supposed to?

I just want it all to go away. I just want to be happy.