At war again

I logged on to vent about my knee what seems like months ago now, even though it was probably only two weeks. And in the time since all I've truly done is wallow in an episode of depression. I think it's pretty safe to say that I have never, ever felt so incapacitated by this illness in my entire life. I stayed up til dawn to hit the point of passing out just so I wouldn't have to listen to myself as I tried to sleep. And then I consequently slept late into the day and then just couldn't, or wouldn't, get out of bed for hours. And I no longer left the house. I hid in my bedroom, often with my head in a book again just to drown out my own thoughts. All my feelings became wrong. Where there should have been vibrant emotional reactions there were either none or the feelings were so muted I may as well have not been experiencing them. I have become quite vacant in many ways. Sometimes when in company I will refuse to meet people's eyes, look anywhere but them and stare vacantly. Or I'll just stare vacantly at a wall. It's taken a long time for me to be able to form a coherent insight into my internal struggle and the period in which I had no words was the most frustrating of all.

The lack of words led me to become significantly disinterested in people. If you're seeking my company for the sake of company and to have a good time, great, we can be friends for life. But the moment 98% of people ask me to account for anything I'm feeling I'm done with you. I fear that I have begun to alienate people in this manner and worse still is recognising that I'm not even sorry about it. I am making no move to repair damage, I have no interest in it. I just don't seem to care anymore. Frequently now I read messages from people and just want them to stop talking. I feel myself becoming an awful, terrible person and I'm powerless to change it. And on some level I don't even want to.

Which is even stranger still when you consider that my mood spikes infinitely when I'm busy and being handed a purpose. Saturday through Thursday I was hit with a sudden bout of life motivation and the sole reason for that motivation was a line up of activities I had been anticipating. But now with that purposelessness setting back in, I'm muted once again. And again I'm concerned for me.

In my last post I finally made the connection about my depression being very much chemical based. This delayed observation came about after a thorough examination of my moods during my period cycle. I think there is something very wrong with my hormones because nothing works as it should. My periods are invariably late and invariably unpredictable, ridiculous at my age, and instead of being emotionally unstable while on them I find that I am actually incredibly stable, happy even. I truly believe that a lot of problems could be solved by regulating my hormones and creating consistency in my cycle. But of course, my heart won't allow such interference, and I don't see what other options I have. And my concerns about my cycle and how it's unpredictable and how I only sometimes have cramps and how sometimes it's not heavy and sometimes it is and how my cycle can go from anywhere between 24 and 34 days open up this whole other can of worms and I'm not even remotely prepared nor interested in looking into it. Again this is a problem I'm sure the pill could help remedy but once again... I'm tired of being medically special.

If ever there was a time for me to seek the help of a professional, this is it. But something is stopping me and I'm not sure what it is. How bad can I let it get before I do something?

This constant fight with myself is exhausting,
- Sky

When Seeking Change

I'm finding it very hard to reconcile within myself, in this moment, how well I was just a week ago and how strung out I am now.

I can always count on the week in which I am on my period to even me out. I never, ever feel bad during that week. I'm what I would describe as even. Not super happy, but so very far from low and angry and frustrated and all the other not so great things I feel during the other weeks. And that sort of clarifies everything doesn't it? Because it basically makes my depression chemical; which means that when I so choose I can right it.

But at what cost?

I haven't had the best track record with medications, and truth be told I'm worried about allowing my body a whole new opportunity to hate on me. It takes about ten days for an anti-depressant to settle into your system and start working it's magic. But in that ten days a lot could happen to me and yeah, it kind of scares the hell out of me. So how ready am I to take that step? I don't know. At the very least it seems I need to be having a talk with my doctor to suss all this out and even see if he thinks it's a good idea.

But I have to get there first, and it was a hell of a thing for me just to go back and reignite the investigation into my right knee. It took me two weeks to ring up and make that appointment. And even though it wasn't even that bad and I don't even think I was all that worried, I think doctors on principle just worry me. Which is understandable given the grief they've caused me. But it's also impeding my ability to be a better person. And that's what all this is about after all, being better. The result of that doctors appointment was that I was prescribed even stronger anti-inflammatories and that they think an MRI is an ace idea. I don't think I'll get anything out of these new anti-inflammatories. They've done nothing so far and I don't think there'll be any change in the condition of my knee by week's end. And my growing stash of anti-inflammatories might even be concerning. The MRI poses a much more interesting mental conundrum. My doctor is very sure that the problem will be visible on this scan. I so want to share his hope and believe him, but history is making me cautious. And as a result I feel utterly torn. Because I want to hope with every fibre of my existence that they will be able to see the problem and, even better, fix it. But I know I'm me. And being me does not entail a happy ending. So I find myself conflicted and unable to... deal with it I guess. I just don't want to build myself up with hope only to have to fall all the way down into further chronic pain.

Because truthfully, part of me is scared that all of this has been in my head. Even though the fluid spoke for itself, and so did the presentations of many of my joint related injuries, I have this little niggling fear that I'm even more psychotic than anyone realises. And I don't think I can do that. I've been degraded enough.

At least all of the above has been familiar to me though. It's well trod ground. None of the feelings are new or even particularly different. They are all things I understand and can, to a poor extent, deal with in my own way. But my feelings relating to the post below this are something entirely different. This is not something I've ever had to deal with before and it's been very challenging. I denied and denied and denied and denied the relation emotion and truthfully, I'm still experiencing it now. I just don't know how to process it. I'm not really sure how to process not being wanted. There's no feeling I want to experience here, so I can't even try to guide myself. There are just these various pangs that come and go. I think I miss him a lot. Because we don't talk anymore. And I am definitely hurt because I was, essentially, rejected. And I wonder if I should be mad at myself for trying to deal with it the way I did. But I have zero regrets and it was really just nice to feel hot and pretty and wanted. Because I didn't feel those things for a long time. And I'm not feeling them right now either.

Because I've begun to make my way down this obsessive slope with my weight and exercising and harassing my knee so that I can feel better about other aspects of my body. And some days the scales make me want to cry, and so does the fact that my stomach won't be flat again. And I even cut all my hair off and basically gave myself an afro and I still just don't know who I want to be or why I'm doing any of this.

I'm just left wondering if I'll ever be worth it, or worth anything.

Because I'm not feeling it right now.

- Sky

After the anger...

I know you don’t want to rehash any of this anymore. And I don’t want to rehash it either. But I also know that for us to function as friends that I need to be heard. So I’m not looking for a response of any kind, I don’t need one. I just need you to hear me, for my own sake. Because I have afforded you that much at every corner and I just don’t feel like that respect has been tantamount. And that much I do need. Because I know I deserve it. So I hope you’ll be able to hear me now, and try to understand me instead of reacting instinctively, that you can afford me that much respect.

I talk to our friends and my friends about you and I (and please understand that it was an ‘us’ not a ‘you’) because I need advice. I’m trying to understand that that may be a foreign concept for you and that may be why it riles you up so much, but you must understand that I need to bounce things off other people. I am not a pit of knowledge. I know quite a bit, but in the grand scheme of things, my knowledge is limited. And when I find my knowledge and wisdom limited, I seek that of those around me. And I’m genuinely very sorry that you feel vilified. But let me assure you that you have not been, because no one hates you. There is a resonating concurrence that you have been both a dick and a prick and many other things, but no one – much less I – hates you. And, at the end of the day, how can I incite in others an emotion I do not feel? From where I’m sitting though, I have been led on, I have been strung along, so I can’t help that that alone makes you look the way you do, regardless of what you thought you were doing. In this same way I can’t help it if you feel unheard. At the end of the day, you’ve chosen to remain that way. You haven’t sought out anyone to express yourself. And I’m led to believe that that is something you wouldn’t do, but if that is indeed the way it is, then you forfeit the right to be offended when our friends are hearing me instead of you.

You pertain to know me. And I suppose the simply reality here is that you don’t. So yes, instances where you abuse the small amount of trust I afforded you (e.g. the balcony) do offend me. I can’t help that. Because when you do things like that, I feel fundamentally wronged right down to the very core of my being. I can help you try to understand me better, I can share with you more of the picture, if not all of the picture, if you’d like. But as it is now, you don’t know me at all really. And Friday night was an addition to other things I’ve noticed. Like when you try to fit me into the mould of all the other girls you’ve been with. I find it incredibly affronting that you should assume that I would be so readily emotionally dependent on anyone. That is simply not in my makeup, I have been conditioned to behave in the opposite manner. But I guess all of this is null and void when we do not fundamentally know each other.

I didn’t engage you on Sunday because I was exhausted. I was just beyond it. But I found you very trying and my indelible sarcasm did indeed rear its ugly head in the end. But it wasn’t until a day or so later that I was hit with the emotional backlash. And not just from the weekend, but from everything. One of my great talents is ignoring my feelings - I can delay a response for weeks. And with you I have done exactly that, because there have been other things that are far more pressing than you. But the other day I did get angry, and I was angry for a couple of days. I managed to rage about the entire situation for forty-five minutes to my gym partner on the treadmill the other day is how angry I was. And it was bound to happen, because in all and actual honestly, I feel like I’ve been treated very poorly. Because to me, it seems I’ve asked very little – if anything – of you, and I’ve received nothing but crap in return. I’ve received blame, I've received assumptions, I’ve received accusations and I’ve received some abuse, and I’ve received very little with regard to explanations and understanding. And I feel this very deep need to understand things sometimes, because so many things in my world are beyond explanation. And finally, I’ve had limited opportunity to air how I feel. And I have heard you; time and time again I have heard you. But have you ever heard me?

I had a very long chat with someone last night, and they offered me a very different, but nonetheless invaluable, insight into a character not so different from yours, I believe. They have strung people along themselves in the hope that they might eventually find themselves ready to commit to the person in question, only to find that it can only end in one, painful way. If that is you, or something like you, then okay. If it’s something else, then that’s okay too. I’m not here to fight you, that’s not what I want. At the end of the day I just want you to know that I am, above all else, hurt and fundamentally disappointed. I was warned time and time again that you were exactly the person you’ve turned out to be, and yet I wanted so badly to afford you the benefit of the doubt. So I guess I’m sorry for both of us that it panned out this way. The only thing I really can’t account for is what you ever wanted from me. 

Weighty Issues

Current weight: 76.5kg

A common thread throughout my blogging has been my infernal struggle with my weight. Now, my rational self fully acknowledges that I am not super fat. But, there is certainly excess weight. And I'm just so far from okay with this this that it has manifested into a terrible obsession.

In 2009, I weighed in at a glorious 65kg. I loved that, it was awesome. But I worry that to get there I was bordering on eating disorder territory. Because the reality of that time, and I do not talk about this, was that I just wasn't eating. I would eat nothing all day. Then I would go home and eat dinner. I would eat dinner because my Mum is big on everyone eating dinner at the dining room table together and I didn't want them to know that I wasn't eating. So I ate dinner, and nothing more. And this went on for awhile, and in six weeks I lost seven kilos. And I loved it. It was dangerous, but I think for the first time I really properly liked my body. And because of that, 65kg has become the golden number. Though I know it simply cannot be again, because I cannot starve myself.

After the glory year, I had a weight range that saw me weigh in between 67kg and 73kg. And I remained in that range for about two years. It amuses me greatly to look back at that time and know how much hate seeing 73kg on the scales instilled in me. I couldn't deal with it. I felt stupid, but I couldn't deal with it. If I couldn't have 65kg, I was going to have 70kg. It consumed me. It still consumes me to this day.

So you can imagine my utter horror at helplessly watching my weight balloon out to 83kg while I was taking roaccutane. I was powerless to change it. I was utterly depressed and for the first time in my life I comfort ate. For years, when I was depressed I denied myself food, but not now, not anymore. I just wanted to eat. So I did. And I hated myself, I hated myself so much. I had to quit my highly physical job and I was in so much pain I couldn't do any exercise. I just stacked the weight on. I stopped fitting into my clothes, I cried a lot, I willed myself to die. Not just over the weight, but it was certainly a part of it.

I am fixated. I am totally and utterly fixated on my weight. I don't fully understand my fixation, but I can take a few guesses. The things that happen to me are just completely out of my control, and I guess that my weight is mostly under my control, and so I control it as best I can. I also just really want to be able to love myself. And I sort of found that happiness at 65-70kg. And everyone says that I won't be happy if I lose weight, but I really beg to differ. I really do.

So I'm having a serious go at losing weight, getting fit and even toning up. It's going to happen, I can do this. At the start of this year I was calorie counting and exercising and I became obsessed with it. I felt guilty if I ate too much, I felt guilty if I didn't exercise, I felt bad when I ate the wrong foods. And I started to lose weight, it was working. But then I went on a holiday and fell out of touch with that habit and it ended. But that was made okay when I started that job, because the weight literally fell off me. And I was so busy I didn't have time to eat a lot and dinner became my main meal.

But I know I can do this, I am utterly dedicated. I will have the body I want. I will like it, I may even love it. I will be 70kg again, maybe even less.

- Sky

It all ends the same way

It's nearly 1am and I should be in bed. Because I joined a gym this week and started getting out of bed while it was still morning. Except I was still going to bed in the early hours of that morning. So my hours of sleep have been suffering. And yet I cannot sleep earlier. And I'm going to a horse show tomorrow and I'm getting up before 7am and it's nearly 1am and I should be in bed because truly I am exhausted.

I did not have any alcohol for a whole week until today. And at first I didn't miss it, but then I did and then I got mildly drunk tonight and I remembered why I drink and I swear that I do not have a drinking problem. I function fine without alcohol, I really do. It just drives me up, makes me a happy and confident person. Someone you'd want to be around. Someone I'd want to be around. I wish I was that happy and vivacious person all the time. Me on a normal day starts out okay and slowly falls away, and suddenly it's 2am and I'm experiencing a range of sad and hateful emotions, mostly directed at myself.

And so I look at me, and I ask myself what my deal is. Why do I fight me, why do I hurt me, why do I hate me? And it seems to simply be that it's being me. Because being me has left me so existentially screwed up. I have battled hard for so many years and that struggle just doesn't end. And it just makes me wonder why I do anything anymore.

So maybe I'll stop getting out of bed while it's still morning. Because it really doesn't matter when my day starts.

I just feel really awful right now. Like, the sudden low that's enveloping me just came out of nowhere. I was driving today through the countryside and stopping intermittently to take photos (because sometimes the landscape blows me away) and I was happy, I was free. But now its 1am and I don't feel that anymore. It's just another day like all the others where I end up alone and unhappy, waiting for some happy ending I'm sure isn't coming. Talking myself out of cutting while knowing it's an eight out of ten chance of happening anyway. Vaguely hoping that tomorrow will be a better day, while knowing it'll end the same way.

- Sky

A month long plummet

I've had a very emotionally challenging month since the point at which my knee became inexplicably injured.

I ended up taking two weeks sick leave from my job, waiting and hoping for a miraculous recovery. But as with most of my problems, no such recovery happened. When I stayed off the joint, the swelling and pain reduced. But as soon as I got up and about again, the swelling and pain returned. So I had to call it quits on the job, because it became more than apparent to me that the joint was not going to heal to a point at which I would be physically capable of the work again.

This was very confronting for me. On nearly every level I needed to leave that job. It was destroying me physically and mentally. I functioned on 3-4hrs of sleep every day, my social life was questionable, my body hated me, the job itself made me so angry. So I resolved to finish up on November 15th, I wanted to see out the spring. The selected finishing date would allow me to be around for a lot of the things I wanted to be around in that job for. But, as with most things concerning myself, it did not end that way and I resigned on the 23rd of September. And for the last couple of weeks, I've simply floated around in disbelief. I've had to watch things I should have been there for, and been a part of, happen without me. I've watched people I was close to go on without me. It's been really hard. And all I have to show for my hard six months in that job is a swollen and sore knee.

On my list visit to the doctors, following diagnostic scans, I was told that he didn't know why my knee was doing this. I just laughed at him, I think he was scared. You can't make up the things that happen to me sometimes. It just can not be fiction. And once again I have a medical problem that cannot be explained and as a result cannot really be treated. So I'm just floating around vaguely hoping the joint will just get better, while really hoping I just adjust to the fluid and pain quickly so I can get on with my life as best I can.

In my second week of sick leave, I took up an attitude that was a mix between 'fuck it' and 'yolo'. I started being extremely social and I started drinking again. Three day benders are now a thing I just do. And while that behaviour has made the last couple of weeks much more bearable, they have also made me emotionally retarded. I just didn't feel the things I needed to feel and I didn't deal with the things I needed to deal with. I found more things to do, I didn't go home for a week, I kept drinking and socialising and driving places and just basically doing anything I could to ensure I was busy and emotionally unreachable.

And I forced the hand of the boy who'd been stringing me along for the past two months on Thursday. I just got tired of his games so I made him draw a line and choose, were we friends or were we more. I mean, I know I come across all hardcore, but I am a human and I have feelings. He decided friends, in an intensely egotistical and pretentious manner that does not endear him to me. And it only served to show me that he has me pegged all wrong. It's like he thinks all women are the same, as a result of being tied up with a string of girls previously who have all, essentially, been the same. He expected me to be overtly attached to him and he just doesn't know me at all. So his thinking sort of offended me, in that regard. That he doesn't realise how seamlessly I have cut people out of my life these days. And that despite knowing me, and really knowing me, he can't see that I don't (and can't) rely on people emotionally (or otherwise) like that. There's so much more I could discuss but it's worthy of a post in itself. He said that he can't do a relationship and that what was going on between us was already too 'relationshippy' for him. So as such, I'm going to withdraw. I'm taking the 'radio silence unless spoken to' approach. Let him miss me. Being vindictive does indeed cheer me some.

But today I just lost it, a bit. I was supposed to go out and see one of my best mates as he's leaving the country for a couple of years shortly and this day had been in the plans for about a month, but after the month I've had, and especially the last week I just could not bring myself to leave the house. I felt so guilty, I still feel so guilty. He rang me at some point during the afternoon - just after I watched one of 'my' old horses finish second in a group one, so bittersweet - and I nearly started crying while I was on the phone to him. I did meltdown completely after I hung up. Just lay on my bed in the pile of self pity and it was pretty pathetic really. It was just this moment in which I was emotionally hit with everything I'd been suppressing and it was not a lot of fun. The message here is don't drink so much, but I know that this won't stop me.

It's just that it's October now, and I was promised for years and years and years that things would get better for me post-school. And I guess I'm still coming to terms with the fact that that's been a lie. This whole year has been so topsy-turvy and just the last month has been very trying. I think about cutting myself a lot and while the god awful period where it was a multiple times a day habit has passed (for now, it's always a for now), I think about it a lot. I don't know whether this will end with another cycle or just the odd cut. I just don't know right now.

Usually I round up these posts fairly well, but I'm just beyond words right in this moment.

- Sky

Slave to my pain

Being in constant physical pain does terrible things to people. I should know.

And in recent weeks, my reality of pain has intensified beyond belief. My lower back cannot cope with the lifting and carrying of water buckets any longer. My shoulder, where a felt/heard a rip some six months ago, goes through varying stages of difficulty from locking and sudden short term pain to a dull constant ache. But worst of all has been the increasingly frequent temper tantrums of my already volatile knees. On Tuesday morning my knees just capitulated. For the two and a half hours I managed to be at work, my only need was to get all the weight of my knees. And do you know what a debilitating need that is? To take your weight off one joint is fine, but to try and remove it from both is impossible. I wanted to sit down. I wanted to cry. I persisted with work for two and a half hours with this demented shuffling gait trying to put as little stress on my knees as I could while still standing and walking. And when someone looked at me and asked if I was okay, all I could do was burst into tears and choke out 'can I go home?' For the rest of that day I was in agony. Sitting, standing, walking, lying down. All of it was agonising. Thankfully I woke up to the pain all but gone in my left knee. But my right knee, things are still far from perfect. I'm in pain write now as I sit here writing this.

I am used to pain. As terrible as that sounds, I have become accustomed to a certain level of it. But what I've experienced over the last few days has been beyond reckoning for me and I'm not exactly sure what to do about it. Except self medicate. Too much nurofen, rest, ice, heat, strapping tape and simply hoping for the best.

This whole debilitating experience has simply served to remind me that I am not destined to be happy. No matter how hard I try, I will always lose. There will always be something in my path to trip me over; a wind to snuff out the light as I think I've reached the end of this ever dark tunnel. And once again I can only call into question the unfairness of the cards I've been dealt - even though I know this will do me absolutely no good.

Even as my moods even out, my personal crisis do not. I am dangerously sleep deprived, somehow functioning on three to four hours each day. I am watching my family capitulate as my parents try to bring my brother back to us. I am being blamed for my sisters anxiety. I am cutting deeper and drawing more blood. Mum is getting a partial hysterectomy. We have no money as a family. The ATO could sink Mum's business.

I don't think I grasped the saying 'when it rains it pours' until this moment. But there is no mistaking it now.

And yet, for no reason at all, I continue to get up each day. I continue to struggle and fight. I know that things cannot ever be the way I want them to be and yet I push on in the hope that they might be.

- Sky

Maybe I don't deserve to be saved

I stepped away from this blog for a long time. First, because typing so much with one hand was an exertion I couldn't deal with while my wrist was broken, second, because I no longer wished to write, and third, because I was feeling pretty good for a brief time.

Things sort of fell together. I got a job and it was hell at first hoping my body would adjust and the pain would stop and I'd fall into a sleep pattern that was cohesive with my work hours. The afore happened, the latter did not. But there was a period about a month after I started the job that I was properly enjoying it. There was no taint.

But as with all things in my life, the taint came. And it came so gradually I didn't notice at first. I didn't notice the negativity trickle in. I didn't notice the gradual disinterest. Nor the rebirth of the hate. But I noticed the anger. Frustration and anger, I think, are very hard to ignore. To the point where they were overbearing and simply shouted down any red flags that should have brought my downward slide to my attention. And I was angry for months. I was overexhausted and overworked and over stressed and I was angry about it. I could feel the tension in the knots between my shoulders. There were other things - feelings and emotions and pains - but I was three parts anger at all times. It didn't matter who you were, what you'd done, I was angry at you. There are very few people at this point, that I can spend more than a couple of hours with and not want to maim and kill them.

One of these people is the boy I am suffering an infatuation with. I had a crush on him, it turned out he felt similarly, we sort of got together and then he broke it off without warning having made a decision on his own. It sort of all boiled down to his state of confusion about his past and future and him having decided I'm just too nice a girl for him to fuck up. Once I got past the general shock, I was mostly annoyed that he was deciding - on his own - what I would and wouldn't be able to cope with and now I'm mostly just annoyed that I can't move on. It doesn't help that I see him pretty much every day. And it doesn't help that he wouldn't let me say we couldn't be friends. And it doesn't help that I can spend time with him so easily. It just doesn't help. It's not been good for my head.

So work turned to shit, my group of friends became strangled as I failed to be able to deal with people. One of the people at work who is above me reduced me to tears in front of everyone and I ended up with a week off work.

And foolishly, I thought that this week would benefit me. So foolish. It's only served to make things worse.

Without a job to pin me down, enforce sanity and force me to function I've simply begun to give into the depression. This whole week I have been overloaded with people and activity and trying to be happy when I just wish I was back in bed embracing sweet, beautiful denial. Even in drinking I no longer find safety as I've had incidences where I'm just totally and utterly depressed. I've once again fallen back to self harm. Except it's escalated this time. The tools have changed and so has the game. I bleed through band aids now. I went away from home for a few days and spent at least half of that mini holiday curled up on a bed, refusing to function and totally giving into the depression, allowing all my anxieties to strangle me. I stay up late thinking and sleep well into the day no longer dreaming.

I don't understand what this is. It's been so, so long since I've been like this. I thought I was bad in the past but there was reasons and reasons provide sanity. But now there's nothing and it's like it's 2008 where there's no one and there's self loathing and hatred and white hot anger. Where I fail to function. I scowl. I wish death upon you for even looking at me solely with my eyes. I'm stony. I'm anxious. I want. I need. But I can't ask. I can't tell. It's a strange paralysis.

It's such a strange thing not to be able to talk.

And it scares me. It scares me the loss of normal functioning. It took me two hours on Saturday night, two hours, to convince myself to get up off the floor and shower. On Friday night I couldn't get out of bed to find dinner so I had Pringles. When I was catching up with a friend - after a night full of craving company - I just wanted her to leave me alone to pity myself and literally shred myself. It scares me that I changed so much without noticing and it scares me that I can't stop it and it scares me. It scares me that I just don't even know what to say anymore.

To anyone.

The hopelessness I feel. I'm not suicidal, but I'm not sure I want to live either. But it is just this existential hopelessness and it's smothering.

I can't make decisions about the future, that thought has been terrifying me into a stupor for months. Do I go to uni. Do I hate myself more. Do I keep working. Do I hate myself more. I just don't understand how every direction can end it hate, misery and anger.

And then I remember. I remember that I never planned to see NYE 2012. It wasn't meant to happen. And suddenly it's nearly August in 2013 and the future is real and it's asking me to join it and I just can't.

I can't see it. I can't see me in it. It might as well not be there.

I am hopeless.

I am bleeding.

I am lost.

- Sky

Time Flies

Time is supposed to fly when you're having fun, but fun isn't what I've been having. I've been stuck in a monotony where all the days run into one and suddenly a week has gone by and I still don't know what day it is. It's becoming tiresome this pseudo-existence, but I'm not even sure I care.

The things that happen to me, I can only ask if it's worth it. And I simply cannot say to anyone that it has been, because it really hasn't. I swear, like I actually swear, that every single time things start going smoothly and well and right, something happens and just completely derails everything. I'm just so tired of it, this uphill battle never ends!

I finished roaccutane. But do you think the side effects have ceased in the two months that have passed since? Of course not. I still experience constant pain. I still get blood noses. My hair still comes out at a completely unreasonable rate. I am still exhausted. I fractured some tiny bone in my wrist that no one has ever heard of and it hampers my wrist to varying degrees. I was scarred by the plaster saw. My skin was infected and in addition to the scar from the cut, my skin is scarred from the infected rash. I then wrote off my car. I wrote off my car and everything I had planned just came crashing down around me.

I am so mad at everything. I am so frustrated by everything. I am so tired of everything. I am so profoundly saddened by the things my life continues to throw at me. At some point this was supposed to end and it just didn't. It hasn't and it won't.

Because that would be fair. And if there's one thing I absolutely know about life, it's that it isn't fair.

I'm not sad, or angry, or sorry for any of the thirty cuts I'm currently wearing. I don't know how else to cope with everything. And all these people trying to lessen these things, and trivialise them, and just trying to generally make them less than what they are. I can't deal with that.

I am consumed by two things. How terribly unfair this is, and how badly I need to cut.

- Sky