I will be chasing the starlight, until the end of my life, I don't know if its worth it anymore

So.

I think it's fair to say that the stresses of life are pressing down on me, hard. I don't particularly like what I'm hearing from the doctors at this time, but, they are the "experts".

So, now that I know that the pill can increase my pulmonary pressures so much that I could die, I've stopped taking all my meds. This tiny part of me was like "WOO" because the spiralactin tastes feral. Like, it's awful, I want to gag every time I put those in my mouth. Anyway, that's completely beside the point. The fun part is they wouldn't give me any other meds until the lung specialist decides what is safe, and what isn't. I have to wait until the 9th of June. Between now and the 9th of June, I'm going to get a lot of pimples.

This does not make me happy. I'm SICK of having pimples. Why won't they just fuck off!? My next appointment with the gyno isn't until the fucking 22nd of September so no joy with meds until then.

Like, FML.

I started cutting again. They look really crash hot next to my burn scar. Anyway, Mum saw them. Happily, this induced no dramas. Except that she thinks we should do yoga.... okay. Maybe. Probably not.

Going to bed now. Will try to write more.

I have this distraction issue at the moment, it's not cool.

- Sky

So how come when I reach out my fingers, it seems like more than distance between us..

Dear Blake,

I sometimes wonder what happened to us and how I suddenly became so unimportant to you.

I know that message I sent was rude, but I feel it was justified and everyday I die a little more inside when I see you haven't responded. I want to believe that you just don't have the time, but there's a tiny, tiny, part of me that won't stop doubting.

And so I've drawn the conclusion that you, like everyone else, have gotten sick of me and moved on without so much as a goodbye.

I always enjoyed our 4am conversations. It's funny how open we can become. I was secretly overjoyed when you apologised for treating my like shit. I secretly loved that you cared and asked how I was day in and day out. I adore your patience and wish I could tolerate people the way you do.

You know more about me, the real me, than anyone else in this world. In a way, I think love you like a brother and I'm sorry I don't have the courage to say that to your face. My nights are empty without our conversations and it's taken losing you to realise just what I had.

What did I have? I had a real friend, a best friend. I've thought I've had best friends in the past, but I've never had a friend like you. I'm almost quite certain that I will never have a friend who'll mane what you did, and still do to me.

I'm very sorry for the way I've treated you at times. Upon reflection, I think the best way to describe my actions and words at times, is to label them as bitchy. Because that is precisely what they were. I feel like I'm about to try and justify my behaviour, but what I'm really trying to do is help you understand why. Sometimes, I just don't know how to be nice. I don't know how to be nice in the same way I struggle to accept a compliment. I learn, like everyone else, from other people. For a fair portion of my life, I was treated with contempt, and thus my immediate reaction, or defence, when I'm not sure how to act, is to out out with contempt. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for each of the times I've treated you with contempt.

I miss you more than words will ever be able to describe. It saddens me that we've grown apart. I just can't seem to move on, Moving on is letting go, and believe me, I am far from ready to do just that.

I wish I'd seized the opportunities to tell you that I care and that you were/are important to me, bust as they say - it's no use crying over spilt milk. What's done is done and apparently that opportunity has long passed. I am ashamed to say that my fear of rejection has stopped me from making further contact. However, my fear does not change my feelings and perhaps one day I will find it in me to try again - and who knows, you may just find yourself reading this letter.

My desire to respond to the division between us with anger has long since passed and i now quietly mourn and regret it. So I have the following to say:

I hope you are happy. I cannot express that hope enough. If you're not happy, I hope you find a way to achieve happiness. I hope you achieve your goals and reach your dreams. I hope you marry the love of your life and meet incredible people along the way. I hope that you'll look upon our friendship fondly and remember me kindly. I hope that you're doing okay and that you are okay.

I know I showed you the deep dark world of mental illness and I know you once worried a lot, perhaps you still do. But it's okay now, you won't have to worry anymore. I won't put you through anymore pain like that.

I really hope you are okay and that you are happy. I do really miss you and will probably continue to do so for quite a time yet. I will always think of you fondly and remember our friendship kindly. Though, I'm not sure whether to accept that it is over or believe that there is still hope.

I am, in all honesty, unsure how to end this. I have no parting advice, or happy memory. I can only say that I miss you that one day I hope we can be close once more.

- Sky

My Perpetual Circle

I'm tired. I'm tired and I have a headache. I'm tired, I have a headache and I'm completely over this perpetual circle you have me walking. I'm tired, I have a headache, I'm completely over this perpetual circle you have me walking and I don't understand why my only question is 'why?'

So tell me. Why me? Did I do something to you? Is that why all this is happening to me? Is that why I can't feel better about myself? Why I can't be happy? Why my body can't function normally? Why?

No answer? Yeah, essentially what I thought.

Because I'm going to the doctors on Monday and have to sit a SAC and a SAT I can't go with Toby to what will probably be his last race. Because I'm going to the doctors on Thursday I can't go see DeeDee race. I hate the doctors! They can all just go fuck off for all I care. Because it doesn't matter what they say, my life just HAS to get worse before it gets better. And you know, how much worse can it actually get? How.much.worse. I'm done. I've had enough. I'm done. I don't even know anymore. Why do I get up? Clearly, I'm getting nowhere. I feel the same shit everyday, deal with the same shit everyday and do all the same shit all over again each following day. How? Why?

I feel detached. There are two parts to me. One set on being as detrimental as possible and the other is dedicated to pushing the limits and thus I am broken. I disagree with myself constantly. I have these little arguments in my head and if I ever spoke them aloud you'd think I was even more neurotic than you'd previously estimated. The internet tells me that talking to myself and releasing that inner voice promotes good mental health, but I'm more inclined to believe that it means I've reached that point where everything's fucked and no longer worth it because hey, I'm done with all this pain and stupidity. There seems to be no reason for it, so I might just casually walk away from it all now.

Haha. If only.

Not going to lie. I just lost all interest in this entry. May or may not continue in the near future. We shall see.

- Sky

Why can't my brain be this awesome all the time?

I stopped checking my weight obsessively. I've been eating normally and thus weigh 71-73kg, depending on the day. I have had a chat with myself (I have these often apparently) and I've decided that it's best not to check my weight quite so often. It's just depressing. And I don't need help feeling that way. Trust me.

So, once again a considerable amount of things have happened since my last post. I don't have a ton of time, but I'll write what I can in the time I have, and if I feel so inspired tomorrow, I will continue.

I last wrote on the 27th of April. I mentioned that the doctors had decided that nothing too sinister was going on, but they were going to run x amounts anyway just to be safe. So, the good news is, the ultrasound revealed nothing sinister, and on Monday I'm hoping the blood and other related tests reflect that ultrasound results. On Thursday next week I will be visiting the professor lady so she can change my meds. I can no longer take the pill and spiractin as the pill has become very dangerous for me to take. The aforementioned meds have been controlling my acne, quite effectively might I add, but now it seems I cannot take them any longer. My one remaining option is Roaccutane - this one has been linked to depression/suicide. I'm not thrilled, but it's a six month course and it means clear skin (well, that's what I'm hoping). Now, one Friday evening at approximately seven pm the cardiologist rings us to say that he's had a chat with his mate the lung specialist (I assure you I'm paraphrasing and that this is not what was actually said) and that his mate the lung specialist had said that there were reported cases of the pill affecting pressure in the lungs. Yay, we have a cause. But wait, there's more. The effects the pill has on my lungs are terribly damaging and permanent. So... this is all fun to be hearing when you've been taking variations of the pill on and off for the last five or so years.

It does explain my inexplicable lack of fitness. Even I can't believe how unfit I am. But now I know I'm not, my lungs just won't help me. So now I have to visit the cardiologist's friend the lung specialist. And that's on the 9th of June. So it's suffice to say that I am very, very unexcited about this whole medical deal. I have more problems than ever before and it doesn't site terribly well. I'm scared and nervy because I feel like they're going to tell me things I don't need or want to hear. What if my lungs are wrecked? What will I do then? They're already making it difficult to play netball, it hurts to breathe. It hurts to breathe. My throat and chest ache. I get in enough air but it hits my chest like I just breathed in a lungful of razors. Highly unpleasant.

I just wanted it to all be okay, you know? I just wanted to be happy and have a working, functioning body that didn't go off and do things as it pleased. It's really not comforting to know that your own body doesn't want you to succeed.

I'm also feeling really tired, really sad and really defeated. I shall write more tomorrow, because there is so much more left to tell, ponder and discuss.

- Sky