The more blood the Better.

So I lied.

But inadvertently.

I really did think I was over it.

But she hit the roof, I couldn't remain civil and well... the rest is history now.

So obviously I wasn't as over it as I initially perceived.

I don't really know how I feel about this to be honest. I'm kind of really mixed up. I mean, I was so, so angry as we were fighting. I'll admit spreading what I have probably wasn't the best response, but do I regret it? Not really. Nor do I regret warning anyone about anything. And I most certainly did not cross the friendship line. So I'm starting to think I'm feeling a little bit hurt. Only natural, I suppose. I'm also a touch upset. And then of course, I find myself laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation I now find myself in.

I was told she was upset by the situation, and excuse me for being a little crass but this is how I felt. Not really sorry for that one either. Welcome to my world bitch, it's about time you felt something. A few people had to even pick themselves up off the floor upon hearing that she actually had feelings.

I'm promising myself that this will be it. This friendship cannot continue. It's poison and it will slowly kill me. It has consumed me enough. If this is the way she's going to react to a situation she created herself then I cannot and will not be her friend. I am not a scapegoat and I will not be used nor abused any more. It's not been worth the trauma, or the pain. And I simply cannot live like this. It's not good enough. I do deserve better. I am a person. I do feel. I want to be happy too.

It just seems like I'm not destined to be happy sometimes. I just feed my own demented mental state til I don't know which way is forward any more and I commence walking in circles. So many war wounds, so little progress to show. Another fucked up friendship to add to the list.

There's something wrong with me. Surely. What else would explain it? I could even write a list of all the things that are wrong. But I won't do that because I don't need to see that list. Ever.

Carrying on, once more. Pretending I'm bulletproof without a care in the world.

If only.

- Sky

and that's when I Let Go

I go away for three days, no phone, no internet, and just like that its gone. No more anger, no more confusion. just sweet, sweet clarity.

It seems I finally got the space I need to reconcile everything that happened and move on. But it's the space that was the key because it was space I was not allowed before. And having finally got that space and time not to be irritated for hours every night, I was able to breathe and let go. Not that I'd say that I've healed, yet. I still get frustrated and I still get jealous, occasionally, not nearly as much now though. But it happens. I think that's human.

The other thing that happened while I was away was me being honest, to a degree. They more or less forced us to share and I relived a few of my more painful memories, ones I make as unhuman and emotionless as possible for my various former therapists. I by no means let everything out, and I probably never will, but I let enough out that people now actually understand. Those who were there were most horrified to hear my brief history recounted. Their horror really only made it worse for me. I've always hated pity, but the horror makes me go 'is it really that bad?'.

And it must be.

But apparently I'm so used to it that I accept it as normal now. Is it kind of sad that I deem being sick and crippled as normal? I more or less define myself by my injuries and illnesses and mark the years with the dates of appointments and dates of initial injuries etc. It's easy to get lost in it all. Easy to just be that sick person. Easy to accept that you'll never be whole, functioning... normal.

And I know you all know what I mean by normal here.

While I was away on camp I slipped running and threw my 'good' knee out. The kneecap doesn't track normally and causes me a great deal of pain. How the fuck does that even happen? I can scarcely believe it because I slipped and I know it wasn't that bad. So I just. I don't know. The pain is incredibly frustrating. I'm a little bit stuck on the 'how did this happen, again?', but I'm trying so hard not to dwell because if you don't laugh you cry. I guess this whole little incident really reflects how painfully abnormal I am, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't trying. It's very trying. It gets more and more trying every day.

And there's no outlet for my feelings.

I blog, yeah. I tell people a few things, yeah. But mostly what I'm thinking and feeling stays within the secure confines of my head. Trust issues born so long ago that I can't remember who first violated them or why I'm so hard pressed to talk. So once again we come back to cutting. I can't believe how far back I've gone into that. I look at my little 'collection' and I'm kind of astounded. But not horrified. I don't care. I could mark myself a thousand times and it would honestly make no difference. My perception of self is already so warped and weird that I don't really see the harm in the damage.

I mean, I'm so screwed up I truly believe I'm doing myself a service. Of course I am. Why would I do myself any less? I'm just out to help. To help myself feel better. To feel like I can face another day.

Even if it's one cut at a time.

But I'm not normal anyway. I'm a freak.

- Sky

Excuse me while I go find something Sharp

With today being a new day and all, I've done some thinking... with the help of someone else actually. And do you know what I now realise? I got absolutely no semblance of an apology. None!

I know this isn't in my head, so CLEARLY the friendship just can't be worth that much.

And now having bitten someone else's head off for no apparent reason, I'm going to go cry in the corner now.

- Sky

It's just not worth it.

So I decided to Man Up

So tonight I put my big girl pants on and I manned up and I spoke to my former best friend. And I laid it all out before her and it was hard and the whole time I thought I was going to just cry and cry and cry and then I wasn't even sure I was going to do it and then I just did.

And she doesn't want to lose the friendship and she wishes I'd told her sooner so she could have "fixed" it and she asked some questions and seemed a bit shell shocked and just pieced the last few months together very gradually and asked some more questions.

And well, I don't know. She's 100% ready to continue on like nothing actually happened and here I am ready to well do nothing. I think that one day we can be friends again, properly. But right now, I'm not ready. And I don't know when, or if I ever really will be.

Because, after all, the damage has been done.

Not that you can really see it. But she's taken a wrecking ball to my mind and I can't get a grip on myself. Every little doubt I've ever had is rising up and my old negative self talk is rising up and gripping me once more in its iron grasp. And I sit here and I listen to it and I let it consume me and I believe it. Every little word. All those things like 'no one cares' or 'you don't deserve comfort' or 'you have no friends' or 'nobody likes you anyway' or 'you never fitted in and you never, ever will'. And I believe.

It's sad really. I think anyway. I don't know what to do, which way to look or how to help myself. So I cut a bit. The scars are stacking up now. It's kind of, nice, in a sick way to see how real I am. To see my own blood appear, my skin scab and heal. I am real. I do feel pain. And I can heal.

But I don't know how anymore.

For a long time I was winning and was getting better and I was able to cope and to deal and the doctors didn't even dent me as they would have in times long gone. But not so much now. I'm emotionally fucked up, as I've said time and time again. And I'm tired because I'm emotionally fucked up. And I have no idea which way to look. I don't even want to do my homework and to be honest, I'm sorry I try to lean on people because it only ever makes me feel worse when they don't know what to say to me.

I don't want to hear that there are no words of comfort, that's just a little bit too much these days. A broken soul doesn't need to hear that anymore.

Where's the light at the end of the tunnel I was promised, years ago?

- Sky

I was lying in bed writing this post so I thought I'd better just get up and actually write it...

I don't know why I'm so hung up on the friends stuff.

I'm not exactly angry at my former best friend anymore, it is what it is and I don't want to spend my life being angry. But with each passing day she inadvertently finds another way to pierce my heart and I think its needless to say that I'm growing tired of this. As I was lying in bed pondering my 'friends' I had to fight back the tears because I feel so, so alone. No one seems to really want to talk to me, let alone listen or even just have the time to be my friend. And its lonely. I feel out of place in every aspect of my life and like I'm just not a part of anything anymore. And why should I be? No one wants to hang out with boring, self pitying, old me.

I'm just having another pity party. I know it's just the depression kicking my arse. But I feel so jaded and lonely. I'm always getting back to where I started and then finding that there isn't a clear path forward.

I wanted to be happy, have friends, a job I enjoyed. Instead I'm sad, don't trust anyone enough to say "can I talk to you?" or "I need help" and I don't really like my job much either. So then what do I have? Not a lot.

Not a lot at all. And certainly not enough to inspire me for life. But I'm not here to discuss ending it. I'm not really here to discuss anything at all. I'm sitting here typing out the warped cry for help to no one because I'm nothing worth paying attention to and/or listening to.

More from my personal little bullshit pity party.

If I wasn't so busy engaging in my own pity party I'd be pretty damn angry at me. Because I'm a pretty sorry excuse for a human. Just sitting here whinging on my crap arse blog like people actually care and read it. If I thought people cared I'd be talking to someone wouldn't I?

But no. I'm not.

And I'm still having my pity party. Still listening to my screwed up mind. Still feeling like shit. Still alone.

And I don't know what to do this time.

People joke about having a screw loose, but I actually have one. Several maybe. Possibly. Probably. Definitely.

This is the worst post ever. So much to say and no words and all I've come out with is a bunch of nonsensical bullshit. I still don't feel better and I'm going to go to bed anyway and pretend I'm okay and then proceed with this charade tomorrow.

- Sky