Almost died 3 weeks ago

I knew it from the very beginning, so I’m not sad

That’s a line from the lyrics of “D.L.N.” (Dark Long Night) by The Gazette. The first part is true, the second part couldn’t be any further from the truth, actually I was heartbroken.

I had or have, I dunno, that one special friend. I really loved him (as a person, not as a man) from the very beginning, I also grew fond of him as a man but especially, I appreciated the person he is: Calm, friendly, down-to-earth, normal and eventhough he’s got a good sense of humor, he can be serious and mature when needed. Or that’s what I thought. Anyways, his calm and his helpfulness have worked wonders on my quality of life, I finally had a trustworthy, sweet and honest friend.
And again, that’s what I thought. However, being too attached to him, and him being rather shy and stuff, I knew from the very beginning that our friendship would end in tears and shards. I once told him I could no longer be friends with him, that he’d hurt me too much. That made him cry, but we talked it over and things seemed fine. The 2nd time, he told me, but not so nicely, and I was the one crying, then dying. I knew it’d end that way, I always had known. I’d push him too far, he’d hurt me too much, and we’d just clash hideously.

So yes, he’s always been very helpful and nice to me but I got a good “6th sense”. I can smell when something isn’t right. When people are hiding things from me or when they’re being dishonest. Which is why I have, at some point, started to doubt or friendship and its sincerity. Being a borderline personality, I appreciate honesty and my emotions, good or bad, are intense. Impressions also hit me harder than others. And with him, I’ve had that feeling, for a while, that he isn’t as fond of me as he once seemed to have been. By “once”, I mean him initiaing hugs and kisses (on the cheek, dumbass), starting conversation etc. I thought it was because I once got pissed off at him for lying to me and making me waste efforts in the process by pretending he and I and 2 more friends were still moving in together while he simply didn’t know how to break the news to me that he said so on a whim and doesn’t really want to live under the same roof with me. I saw him lying to my face but the whole truth reached me through another friend so I got pissed and sent him an overly emotional, angry mail. He apologized but what he doesn’t seem to understand is that an apology ain’t worth shit when you’re gonna do it again and again. He says I should change some of my behavior and he’s damn right, but so must he.

And that’s the thing. Why should he? My flaws have a name and a therapy. His probably don’t, so why bother? That’s his mistake. He thinks it’s enough to feel guilty and say so a thousand times, and go on just the same as before.

So now I got into a fight with another “friend” we share. That asshole ruined something for me that I was looking forward to, all because borderline bitch me said a few bad things on a few bad days. It was a vacation in Switzerland, our whole bunch of friends was going because my friend here, has a house there. So behind my back, little asshole had me voted out and my friend said that this whole thing was to his convenience because now, he finally had a “valid” reason to not take me along because oh my god, how to handle a crazy borderline bitch? Easy, when I’m pissed just leave me alone for 30 minutes. Everyone else seems to do just fine, only he was lying to my face about me being welcome to join in until the damage was already done.
But since Little Asshole was the one I fought with and the one who screwed me behind my back, I found that he was to be punished. Everyone will confirm that he has been an asshole. But he was still welcome to the trip, I was excluded. So one night I stayed at my special friend here, and Asshole’s external hard drive fell into my hands. I found photos on it that I had taken but definitely never sent him. WTF? So I thought, “Hey, you fuck me so you’re not enjoying my work, motherfucker!” and deleted them. My only thoughts were: Piss that Little Asshole off. It never even occurred to me that I would, by doing so in his house, break my friend’s trust.

And so the next day, he said the following: “Fuck off, I don’t wanna see you ever again”.

Having read those words, I sent the email he said them in, to my mum who I was chatting with, explaining why I was now gonna kill myself. She didn’t really take it seriously, but soon I went offline and also switched off my phone. That was the tenth of June 2009, the day the others departed to Switzerland.

Since I’ve been suicidal for a while, I had a 100 pills of Phenobarbital 100mg, and 100 Diazepam 10mg. And although the good sides of our friendship have worked wonders on me, the bad sides have always been hurting. His lying (by which he tried to AVOID hurting me but ended up doing so even more), his distance. And as I said, if I grow too fond of a person, I can react very intensely on an emotional level to everything they do. So him having said that, I posted a message on Facebook saying “I’m not home, don’t bother, but my pets need to be rescued 2 days from now”. By that, I wanted to guarantee my pets’ safety and at the same time, make sure I was dead by the time anyone’d find me.
I crushed the pills into powder and mixed them with some pudding. While falling asleep, I wanted to watch the Kubozuka movie I’d been looking for for 2 years but the region wasn’t compatible with my DVD player. So I just put on some music. Evanescence, sad stuff. Originally, my suicide plans (I’ve been having them since last December) were to first send my suicide note and last will to my friend(s) but I had just lost the one I’d trusted the most (eventhough he was the biggest liar of them all). So I didn’t bother and just put it in a visible spot so the police, or whomever, would find it and pass it on. I also didn’t bother going to the old ruin at the sea to off myself, I was afraid I’d change my mind en route. So the couch had to do. I took some anti-vomiting pills and something to speed up blood circulation (= speed up the effects of the other drugs), and ate the disgusting mix of drugs and pudding, then drank some alcohol just to be sure. Tried to slit my wrists but damn it hurt.

I put on some decent clothing (who’d wanna be found ungroomed?) and lay down on the sofa, smiling, I remember I was smiling. I never cried. I was a bit sorry, about my mom and my cats who loved me so much but I was glad, and hurried, to finally have found the “guts” to relieve myself from all pain and grief that had accumulated since the 90s. My heart had always been cracked and my friend had now broken it completely and I kind of thanked him for doing me this favor. I was finally determined to let go and rest.

2 days later, the first thing I saw was an orchid next to my bed. My hands were tied down, I had tubes in my nose and mouth. Things were over-exposed and I kinda noticed the presence of my mom who was supposed to be in Berlin, Germany, not Leuven, Belgium. Somewhat later, the nurses asked me whether I’d agree to be moved to the psychiatric facility in Kortenberg. I think I said yes, but I was in no state to judge or think, no word I heard or said was truly valid. But they still stuck me in an ambulance and a little later, I was, still totally out of it, I found myself locked up in a closed facility with surveillance cameras above your bed. 3 weeks.

3 weeks during which I’d lost my apptetite and didn’t eat in 2 days, at all. When they put me in a straitjacked in a dark room for no valid reason other than me complaining about there being no internet, I put my fingers into a socket, hoping to electrocute myself but nothing happened. In that solitary confinement room, they’d thrown me to the floor and just left me there with a sprained tailbone, stretched out in water I’d spilled. I hit the alarm button many times, crying for help, but no. They were watching me on video, but no help came. Hours later, I’d fallen asleep, they let me out, traumatized. I remember the first 3 days because I basically don’t. I was only dizzy, sleepy, drowzy, or sitting/lying on the floor crying. I remember crying and bawling out my friend’s name, sometimes accompanied by “I’m sorry”, sometimes by “How could you?”. But soon the whole department, the closed one, knew his name. It came in high amplitudes and frequencies from my room. I also remember crying about the flowers in the closed yard being mowed off. They were the only beautiful thing and I remembered begging an orderly to stop the lawn mower guy.

I had 4 messages on my voice mail from June the 10th. 1 was one of my best friends telling me he was gonna miss me in Switzerland (he had voted for me). He'd lateron visit me in the nuthouse. 2 of them were from an old friend who was worried and who told me that he had been the one who read my Facebook message and called the police. One message was from a cop, very friendly, worry in his voice, “Hello Anna, this is Jan from the local police department, we heard that you were about to kill yourself, please open the door and let’s talk things over.”. Of course I didn’t open, I was already gone. My mom then got a call from my mobile phone, relieved to see my name coming up. It was that cop saying, “Your daughter’s alive, though her condition is critical.”
They must have used those “1, 2, clear!” electro shockers on me, judging by the way my black gothic mini dress looked. Cut open and stuff. I was in intensive care for 2 days, then in the nuthouse.

Today, July 2nd, I was transferred to an open department specialized in borderline personalities, and there, I was free to go and I did. In the 3 weeks, I thought about a lot. About how my friend wasn’t pissed about the JPEG files, but about the trust I broke (what about mine he’d broken more than once, btw?). That he wasn’t ignoring me out of sheer hatred, but because he was scared and feeling guilty. That I could manage without binge eating. And that death feels nice when it’s sleeping pills. I was happy to leave, devastated to find myself alive and my Phenobarbital dealer arrested. I hated my friend for calling the police and for saving my life, because now I had been locked up with the pain of my broken heart, unable to escape.
My mom had taken care of me all the time, one friend visited and one called, both events had me burst into tears. My mom should have gone on a world trip, Berlin to Beiruth, she was looking forward to it but instead, she had to take care of her near-dead daughter. She’s an angel really.

I still feel like killing myself off. I also made sure I find another dealer. But as long as my mom is here, I won’t. I’ll try to live on for a while. Death didn’t feel so bad and I’m not shocked by my actions at all. I’m glad to know how easy it is when required. But right now, I don’t have the heart to waste my mom’s efforts. And the last bit of hope that our friendship be revived. Although I have a ton of things to throw at his head, from hurting me to insulting me, I’m very forgiving to my loved ones, and he’s one of them.

But dying felt okay. It was not really my friend’s fault, he only was the last straw. It was everyone’s and no one’s fault and my own, my personality disorder’s, the world’s, to hell with it.

I have no regrets trying to kill myself. I did it once, and people, when they did something once and don’t regret it, they will do it twice. Me, too. Not now, not tomorrow, maybe tonight, maybe in 10 years, maybe never.

Where do I go?

I hate it at home. It's dirty, chaotic, lonely and everyday it's only a matter of time before I melt down in tears over ridiculous things.
School is only once a week anymore and I don't know the majority of people there and my best friend there is leaving anyways.
I hate being with my mum, and there's no life for me there.
My brother offered to share his place with me but what can I do in Israel?
A psychiatric institution is out of the question.
I can't hang around my friends' place all the time.
I have nowhere to feel home anymore. I'm only going from one random, meaningless place to another. Some places suck worse than others but none is home.

Nathalie Merchant - My Skin

Find the song here

Take a look at my body
Look at my hands
There's so much here
That I don't understand

Your face saving promises
Whispered like prayers
I don't need them
I don't need them

I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long
As if I'm becoming untouchable

Contempt loves the silence
It thrives in the dark
With fine winding tendrils
That strangle the heart

They say that promises
Sweeten the blow
But I don't need them
No, I don't need them

I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long
As if I'm becoming untouchable

I'm a slow dying flower
Frost killing hour
The sweet turning sour
And untouchable

O, I need
The darkness
The sweetness
The sadness
The weakness
I need this

I need
A lullaby
A kiss goodnight
Angel sweet
Love of my life
O, I need this

Do you remember the way
That you touched me before
All the trembling sweetness
I loved and adored?

Your face saving promises
Whispered like prayers
I don't need them
No, I don't need them

O, I need
The darkness
The sweetness
The sadness
The weakness
I need this

I need
A lullaby
A kiss goodnight
The angel sweet
Love of my life
I need this

Is it dark enough?
Can you see me?
Do you want me?
Can you reach me?
Or I'm leaving

You better shut your mouth
Hold your breath
Kiss me now you'll catch my death
O, I mean it

Hospital again

Felt a crisis coming again so I went to the psychiatric emergency station of a city hospital. After 3 or 4 hours of waiting, all they gave me was half a fucking Xanax. I explicitely asked for pillS (<-- note the plural) to help me survive the coming DAYS and that bitch gave me one half Xanax. And ofcourse I had to pay myself a taxi home. Fuck emergency services, they totally play with your balls.

Drawing

I'm so fucking tired of my so-called friends who drag me along to hang out and then just park me on the couch to forget all about me. The only thing that I EVER got positive attention for, are my artistic skills, especially drawing. I'm that chick who draws well. That's all people have ever appreciated about me. If it weren't for my drawings, nobody'd ever talked to me in the first place. I hate it. Drawing's become the one thing that makes the world give a damn about me. That's why it started in the first place. As a child, I was already lonely so I made up imaginary friends and drew them. Drew imaginary adventures with imaginary friends and what I drew happened to be above average in quality so people noticed me for the first fucking time and praised the living bajeezus outta me. I mean, when I wasn't being praised and cuddled for my drawing skills, I was getting yelled up and/or beat up for my existance. I mean, ugly fat kid mustn't exist, world keeps proving that to me even now. As long as I produced nice drawings, I was safe, people liked me. But drawing is something I do best when I'm undisturbed (though among people who peek over my shoulder; love the silent attention), so the vicious circle started. In order to have my existance appreciated, I had to draw. But in order to do that, I had to be alone. And that wasn't so hard to accomplish, ugly fat girls are usually alone. And that's how ugly fat girl got better and better at drawing: Having lots and lots of time alone, undisturbed, unnoticed, unappreciated. That's how you get good at this kind of things. By having lots of alone-time. Of course, encounters with people who were as good as or even better than me, were catastrophic. They were a threat to my very existance or at least, to the world taking notice of it. So the pressre I was constantly under, was enormous. And while I was frantically working on improving my skills, I grew to HATE drawing. My mental aversion to drawing at one hand getting me attention and at the other hand stealing it from me, became physical and I had back- and headaches, my wrist would suddenly hurt and I could no longer take the smell of pencils. The dilemma and a vast mental emptiness started at that point. I no longer enjoyed drawing because I'd suddenly realized that all the time, it had only been a way to have my existance noticed in a positive way. But it has also become my only real hobby. But now that I no longer enjoy drawing, now that I no longer feel inspiration and accomplishment now that the truth has come to me, what do I do? What can I kill my abundant alone-time with? There's nothing I enjoy doing. And how can I now get appreciation, now that I can no longer hold a pencil for more than 10 minutes without feeling that immense hate and despair rising inside? What now? More boring alone-time. More binge eating. More being fat and ugly and nothing else because the "drawing" is gone. The only thing people appreciate me for, has gone from me and I hate it for leaving me but at the same time, I hate the thought of picking up the pencil. I want to all the time but I know I wouldn't enjoy it. I'd love to draw comics, but as soon as I start, the mental hate of drawing turns into aggression and panic attacks, physical pain sets in that artists usually feel after HOURS of hard work, but not after a few strokes; I have to stop for it'd break me, but when I stop, I have nothing left to do with myself.

I hate this gift.

Missing

Can't stop those feelings of feeling abandoned, lonely, hated,
redundant, like the world doesn't want me. I love my friends and I know
they kinda love me back but I just can't help but feel alone and unloved.
It's nobody's fault.

Just fuck you, I hope you die

I just burnt up all my friends' photos. Now my snot is black from the smoke. Funny. And I just realize I forgot a few. Whatever. Because like, one day they promise you to take some time and talk things out because you've only just been hospitalized for a suicide attempt, then at the table they forget all about your presence. Like, I'm sick of that. I hate people who pretend to care and when the time to care for real comes, they're busy mocking seniors and talking politics.

FUCK YOU.

My weekend was okay

Just back from my friend Cathy's. Last night we went out drinking. Didn't mention my problems to her, we just got drunk together. We wanted to get a man-whore from the red-light-district but didn't find it and I was like dying from that cocktail. Called Car Crash. Rightly so. Gin, Rum, Vodka, cointreau and champagne. What a fucking cocktail, how can that be legal... damn... And she sent text messages to my friends from my phone lol... wtf did she tell them making it loook like it was me... Lol I love such things. It's funny. Stan called me about it and asked if I was okay. I'm not fucking okay but it's sweet he called. Nobody does that usually.

Miracle Cure (Blank & Jones)

What can I do?
Where I can I hide?
Who can I back?
Who's gonna lie?
Who can I trust?
Who's gonna try?
Who's gonna stay with me tonight?
Who's gonna stay in by my side and when I'm feeling paranoid?
Who's gonna fill this empty void?

Typical thoughts of a borderliner who's home alone.

Charcoal is eeeeeeeeew

Been to the hospital last night and it's all my mother's fault for a) giving birth to me, b) raising me in an environment that could only break me and c) giving the that annoying shit on the phone:
"How can people like you when you don't like yourself?"
Yeah right. That statement is incorrect. It must be:
"How can I like myself when everybody constantly reminds me that the world hates me?"

So her stupid talk pissed me off, I wrecked a few things, everythings full of broken glass here, and I got pissed off and took 1200 mg Phenobarbital with half a bottle of 18% Pisang. I was like "That's what you get for reminding me of how bad my life is". But unfortunately I rememberd I hadn't yet sent instructions for taking care of my pets to my non-existant person of trust so I called an ambulance. How embarrassing, all because of my mother and the life she put me through, I had to call for help. It was so humiliating, they had their siren on. The guy in the back who talked to me was cute though. Not the smartest but cute. But them those barbiturates work slowly. By the time I became a LITTLE dizzy, they were already making me drink "activated charcoal". A black, thick "beverage" that works like a magnet to all sorts of toxins.
I was a green patient so there was no urgency in treating me. Which meant hours of waiting, connected to a fuse and some monitor. unable to reach for my backpack and my books. I had Wetlands by Charlotte Roche with me, about a girl in hospital who's had her anus operated on. I had my backpack with me because I was assuming I had to stay for the night. And I was able to pack it because those fucking Phenobarbital things don't work as fast as they should. Do you think I'd call an ambulance to my doorstep? No, I walked a few hundred meters to meet them at a bus stop. I don't want neighbours peeping.

I had a dream about my school friends inviting my other friend Cathy to a party of their film workshop group. She told me about it and turns out, I wasn't invited. That was when I woke up. It's so typical. Just leave Ugly out of things, she'll ruin the fun and all group pics with her ugliness. Yeah, just leave me out.

I'm so annoyed at everyone saying "You're not ugly, the reason why you got no boyfriend is your character/because you don't love yourself". Bullshit. There's nothing wrong with my character, at least I don't show it. Not until recently but I have NEVER had a boyfriend, and will never have. And that's not because of my character. I have a great sense of humor, I'm intelligent above average, I'm devoted and helpful, I'm loving, I'm loyal, there's nothing wrong. It has to be my monstrous looks, what the fuck else? I wish people could stop with those lies. It IS my looks, I AM the ugliest piece of inferior shit in every class I go to.
And the doctor said that beautiful girls, too have issues. I don't think so. I see nothing wrong with the pretty girls in my class. They are slim, they have boyfriends, they are photogenic. What more does one need?

And my so-called best friend who said he would be there for me? Fuck him. I'd love to kill myself in front of his eyes just to enjoy the face he'd make. I mean, he said he'd prefer me crying in his shoulder rather than me posting weird messages on Facebook. So why was I left all alone and ignored Wednesday night when I was feeling scared and suicidal and when I carved things into my arm? Even days later he wouldn't bother even sending a text message. That's the kind of friend he is. As long as I'm being convenient we're good. If it were the other way around, I'd be there for him. But no, nobody's ever there for the ugly bitch with the fat cellulite ass, the masculine body hair, the bad teeth, the eye rings, the old wrinkly hands and the strong chin. Ugly people don't get affection. Especially not when they're about to kill themselves, because that's what everyone wants to happen. Or at least, that's what my so-called friends' behavior hints me. I want to get away from him, have him erased from my memory. He's nice, sweet, lovable, nothing wrong except that he drops me when I become "heavy". I don't want friends who only appreciate me when I'm being convenient, I need people who are there for me when I'm sitting in a corner scared of myself because those pills and razor blades are only 2 steps away. If I'm too much for him, why won't he say so and let me move on and find a new/better friend? Why does he keep my around at all? I don't want to be kept around by people who only love me when my mood is nice.

While I was waiting for the ambulance, while I was sitting at the hospital and while I had a taxi drive me home for vast amounts of money, the only thought running through my head was: I should have taken all 100 pills, emptied the whole bottle of alcohol, slit my wrists, go out into the cold dark night where nobody finds me and die for real. Still thinking that. I mean who'd miss the ugly shit?

Sand is overrated

Annoying stalker is back. She just doesn't understand when I delete her from all my social networks and contact lists. She's a good person but I just don't like people clinging to me unless I really, really love them. So no, I am not gonna accept her new friend request.

Watching "Eternal Sunshine of the spotless Mind". Into it 3 minutes and I already love this movie.

It sucks, I joined a dating site for serious relation ship searchers and everytime someone's interested in me, I retreat into my stupid little self. He's a nice interesting guy and we had a nice chat until he offered to buy me a drink. That was when I wanted to either die or go up in smoke, just as long as I and my conscious would vanish.

About niggers

I don't hate black people. I only hate people who behave in an annoying way. And black males age 18 and up, strangely do so alot around me, so I hate most black males from the moment they make eye contact with me.
You'll never hear me complain about black women or kids but the males just piss me off. They must leave me alone. Do I talk to strangers? Do I ask people I barely know for their number? Where they live? Whether they're in a relationship? Do I? No. Because it's gross. Anyone who does that is disgusting and must get out of my face.

About out of my face: Finally that annyoing schizo bitch from 24 killed herself. It wasn't fair, she was like me but at least she was pretty = cared for. That's not fair so I'm glad she died in pain.

So bored

I'm so fucking bored I'd kill myself just for the fun of landing in a hospital being asked strange question by strange people but the problem is, how to get to a hospital? Nobody cares about me remotely enough to be worried and call an ambulance and it's a bit stupid to go there by myself by bus, with my wrists open, like "Hi, I tried to kill myself, can I have a room please?".
No school, nothing to do, stupid fucking village, no money, bad weather, all the chaos here, it sucks. I don't see how others get everything they (don't even need to) wish for, just naturally, and I don't get shit. All I ever get to do is sit in front of the TV and eat. I'm not allowed to enjoy life any more than that. It's not fair and I'm not taking it much longer. I am the ONLY person in this world that I know of, who's ugly, lonely, hated, ignored and has no succes at anything. All I do is attract niggers.
Just kicked my mother off my MSN. It annoys me so bad that she keeps commenting on my status there. It's none of her fucking business what I write behind my MSN name. I don't want to answer questions that I deem redundant. You don't ask questions about personal quotes or nicknames, it's annoying. I refuse to even considering to answer questions that I don't find a convenient answer for the second I'm being asked. And why should I bother. Why should I think about an answer to the question "Why did you write ... in your MSN nickname?", "How are you?", etc? Those are stupid, annoying questions. I'm not answering them. It's like asking a director why the woman in his movie wears blue jeans. JUST BECAUSE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF WHORESHIT!!! How annyoing is that to have to think of WHAT to answer, HOW to answer, the TIMING of answering, the CONSEQUENCES of the answer, the LENGTH of the conversation depending on the answer, etc.? For such a stupid question? The mere idea of answering annoying questions disgusts me. Last Saturday I was fucking that annoying nigger again. Some guy named Momococo. He asked if I liked him. What an annoying question. How can I like someone who's more than 40 years old, who's annoying, who asks personal questions, who talks so softly I hardly understand him, who stays longer than he paid for, who thinks he's good enough to be my boyfriend etc.? How can I like that nigger? Absolutely unthinkable. But he dared ask tht question and it's still pissing me off and I hope he dies. He mustn't ask questions I find inconvenient to answer. My closest friends are the only ones allowed to do that. That's 2 (read: TWO) persons. Not my family (lol "family", fuck you all), not my stupid customers who can't find a woman who'd fuck them for free, not anyone. If I said no, he'd be pissed and I'd be forced to discuss with him. He's old, poor, illegal = not worth talking to. If I said yes, he'd stay and steal my invaluable time. Yes, my time is worth more than a poor old man's. He has NO legal ID papers, NO money, NO respect. I've checked his wallet when he was on the toilet. He's an illegal immigrant with no such thing as credit cards. Eeeew. Such people should die.

Bodylanguage never lies

That's the title of a book I've read all the way through in less than 4 hours yesterday. Incredible, I've never read a book so fast before. It told me that my best friend's both a liar and absolutely not fond of me.
Leaving for work at 6am. I hope I get AIDS so I won't have to be brooding about all that shit anymore. Who's lying, who's honest, who likes me for real, who actually hates me, who's pretending, who's talking behind my back, what are their intentions... I know that a large part of my mistrust in people is caused by my borderline disorder but it's not only since I've read that book that I thought that sometimes, certain people's bodylanguage doesn't fit their nice talk. I don't want anymore of this. Nobody ever fucking bothers to make my life worth living.

just shut the fuck up

People really need to stop telling me to commit myself into a psychiatry. Do they know what the fuck they're talking about? As an in-patient, you loose your dignity, your rights, your pride, you're treated like an idiot, you can't say "no" to anything without getting some kind of injection and locked up, strapped to tables, you get your clothes ripped off your body, showered by people in white, they look up your anus for drugs, you don't get a razor and AS A WOMAN you'll have to go unshaved, in ugly in-patient scrubs. When you complain they won't take you seriously. You don't get a computer, no internet, nothing I can keep myself busy with. I need internet, I need my drawing tablet (on the computer), my photography, my friends, my freedom, my pets, my pets will die without me, they'll just give them to the pet shelter where nobody will treat them the way they deserve, they'll just rot away the same way I'd be rotting in the psychiatry. How can people suggest such horrible things? I can't take the thought of going into a crazy house. It's like putting a lion in a zoo. I'm too intelligent and too sensitive. The boredom and the loss of dignity will destroy what good is left of me. I'm not going to such a place. I can't take the panic I feel everytime I even think of it. Here's what happens when you say to me that I should consider going to such a place.
So anyone who as much as suggest I should get committed to a crazy house, is guilty of murdering part of me and pushing me into self-harm and eventually suicide after massive panic attacks. Leave me the fuck alone with this kind of suggestion. You want thsoe horrible things to happen to me that hapen in crazy houses? Ok ,so you don't love me. You don't have to . I know i'm ugly and unlovable. But if you want me to suffer and eventually die, please at least pay me? Asshole. I hope she dies for suggesting such horrible thihngs. Me, in the crazy house. I know I'm mentally ill and need help, but a crazy house won't help, it'll make things worse.
fuck you all to hell and i still hope that bitch from the bus dies.

Oh fuck you all

Too bad. Disappointing not to have got that very damn good reason to rid myself of my life. I mean, who'd want to live with HIV? They told me there're many happy HIV-positive couples with children. Yeah right, how disgusting, pathetic and ridiculous is it to use a condom with your beloved? Love is sharing everything without boundaries, spontaneously. But what lover would I ever have, anyway? I mean, who'd want an ugly piece of garbage like me who's so ugly no man would ever want me? And even if I were beautiful, I would not want "love" with a wall aka condom between me and my man. Condoms are for one-night-stands and prostitution but a total love killer otherwise. I mean, some men go soft when I try to put it on, what if my partner would, too? No sex at all then? If I really loved someone I'd fuck him even if he'd give me AIDS. Love is about being together and if being together leads to dying together, so be it.
And oh yeah, I was told my teeth aren't that disgusting. Yeah right, they're so gross I cannot ever laugh or smile. I have to shave my face twice a day and I'm not ugly? Yeah right. If I'm not as ugly as I think I am, how come I'm a) not photogenic, b) not an actress in Hollywood and c) forever unloved and undesired? How come I only fuck 15 men per shift and my slim colleagues do 25?

These are things I talked about today with that free-of-charge psychologist moron the STD center offers. They bothered me to talk to her and I did, so they'd finally stop nagging. But I knew talking to some stranger won't change shit and I was right. Look, I'm still ugly! And what's more, talking to her made everything worse because talking about my problems rubs them into my face and all I've been doing since 17:20 is cry because they made me talk to that bitch and remind me how urgent and importand and inevitable it is that I be dead.

They called my test results good news. I was hoping so hard for a final push. Well fuck you, I'll just fuck without a condom now, I will get it eventually.

Just thought of a way to down my 100 Phenobarbital 100mg at once despite my modified stomach. Crush them and mix them into a big bowl of tiramisu :D I can down that. I'm wondering though, should I get 100 more? I heard you need at least a 150 to be sure to die. But I was gonna do it this weekend and the dealer is in Hungary so I'd first need to order, pay and wait for my order to arrive. Damnit. Or just take those 100 I've got with some strong alcohol and slit my wrists and freeze to death all at the same time, that should work.

And thanks to my other teacher for telling me I got 0/20 on Lighting, made me lose hope for good what concerns school. Thanks for convincing me that I don't need to wait till September exams. Cause that'd be a problem. I can't freeze to death in summer, dying would be so much more difficult then.

29 January

Just checked the schedule for the coming 2 months. Looks like I'll only see my friends on Monday from now on. I'm starting to really hope I'm dead soon.

Old people should move outta the fucking way

January 28th, for real this time. Me and dates...

So my teacher seemed to love my short film. He was laughing and grinning all the time explaining the flaws and good points.
Tomorrow I'll be getting the result of my 2nd HIV test. If they turn out positive, I'll just kill myself. I'm done here. Done with the world which is done with me. I'll be kicked out of school and never see my friends again, loose my only real interest/time killer/ambition and my last remaining reason to get up in the morning. So I might as well stay asleep forever. And even if I stay at that school which I doubt, I'll never see my best friend again. He'll change schools, byebye, been nice knowing ya. I mean, out of sight, out of mind. People never bother staying in touch with someone as worthless and ugly as me. So when I can't meet my friends at school, I can't meet them at all. Not that I don't wanna, I just know from experience that people are glad to have a good reason to not have me around and they'd certainly never invite me.

I should just die anyways. Just now something happened that mustn't happen. I couldn't stop tears from going down my face, in public. I lost face anyways now. Like, everytime my life is okay (never good) something happens to tear it all to bits. I just can't stand the mere thought of losing my best friend. I know he ain't my babysitter and I don't want to put the burden that is my life, on his shoulders but it's a sad fact that right now, the straw I'm clinging to has his face. I'd probably do him a favor if I died. And I really should. He's always been good to me though really frustrating ever so often but when he's around I feel like life is great. But as soon as he's out of sight the sky breaks down on me and all I want is die. It's not fair, of me. He's just a 20-year-old kid and I should be dealing with my problems on my own but I can't. I just fucking can't handle my fucked-up self without him around. Not in love with him anymore, but I still love him as a person and a friend. And that's what makes me so unhealthy for him. I wish I could ever mean even half as much to anyone as he means to me. Not to my mum, her motherly love is programmed by nature, doesn't really count.

Not gonna see my friends till Monday. I feel like I'm not gonna survive those 4 days, especially not after I get the results of my HIV test. My village now has busses on Sunday. I have time till Sunday to finish my testament and remove my disgusting self from this earth. Wait till I get the results, then die. I hope they'll be positive so I finally have no reason left to chicken out or change my life. Lol this is hilarious, I'm hoping for AIDS...

So meanwhile I got home. I was sitting on the bus for about 5 minutes when an elderly lady, mid-60’s with fake blond hair, got on the crowded bus. The seat next to me was free but my suicase stood in the leg room, so she started tugging at MY property, telling me to move it. I wouldn’t know where else to put such a heavy suitcase. I mean, she could have sat down with her legs in the corridor, I do that sometimes and on a crowded bus, you have no choice, for chrissake. But no, she wanted me to stand up for the 30-minute-ride because she was as high and mighty as to demand flawless seating. Forced to climb over the seat because she wouldn’t move out of the way either, I broke my expensive eggs I was looking forward to. Everything in my bagpack (sketchbook and the artwork inside, fabric pencil case only available in Israel, the sleeve of my laptop) is now covered in sticky goo. Because that fucking disrespectful piece of shit elderly piece of social garbage, useless and short-lived due to age, dogsucking whoreslut wouldn’t accept a seat with little legroom. I hope she dies and savors every second of it. I mean, wtf?? Old people who’s future is already part of the past, should make room for the young who still have a future ahead of them! Why are priorities and special services given to the old and the handycapped aka the useless who do shit in return?? WTF??? It wasn’t even a priority seat btw, and even so, that one stupid grandma who turned out to have a shorter travel than me, could have sat down next to me. So I had to stand, with my heavy luggage. I really hope she dies and I wanna watch her agonize.
When I got home from this injustice (none of the 100 other passengers bothered to take my defence btw) I broke cupboards, cages, the remaining 4 eggs, possibly the dog’s rib, well, it’s all that old bitches fault. My day was already fucked up but if she hadn’t had me stand for no reason, on an aching foot and with heavy luggage, I could be enjoying exceptionally large and expensive eggs right now. It’s all her fault my house is a mess now. And I’m not cleaning it up. Not my fault. I wouldn’t have snapped if that whore would have let me keep my seat. I sat there first, it was mine. I pay for my ride, €342.50 per year to be exact, she is 60+ so she pays SHIT and gets a seat???? *I* pay for my ride, I have the future, I have the bad foot, I have the heavy luggage – and she gets my seat although she has no more contribution to make to the world except die??? WHAT THE FUCK????????

The noodles I was just having were disgusting. Almost as disgusting as my overweight body. They tasted like rotten bread, but hell, I was too lazy to go and cook others, that fucking old lady ruined my mood to do anything good tonight.

So I shall now proceed to tearing up and then burning my sketchbook. The egg goo is only on the rim of the pages, but that egg goo is the symbol of injustice and interrupted perfection of events, and of ruining my mood so I no longer accept both the book and my drawings inside. Same goes for my beloved Israel pencil case, the notebook sleeve, and everything else I needed/cherished/whatever. That old bitch’s disrespectful behavior got it dirty literally and symbolically so I hate it now. Oh right, the backpack I bought in Japan has egg goo in it too. So I have no backpack left. Great. I loved that one. I hope that old whore dies. Why is such garbage breathing?

January 27th 2009

I don't get it. Why do healthy young women sit on their lazy asses and beg for the working man's money? Even if illegal, there's something everyone should be able to offer in exchange for money or else the money is undeserved. It's just wrong. I had a "heated" argument about this with Jon who thought I was wrong and that not everyone can find work and because some beggars are just stupid but puh-lease, you don't need brains in order to paint or to shine shoes!! I just hate it when people ask strangers for money without offering shit in return. And being a hooker ain't so bad, I'm giving the customer pleasure in return for his money so I believe I'm being a decent person. Sitting on my lazy ass with my hand open, that's a thought that disgusts me to no end.
And I shoulda walked him to the central station, now I'm sitting here at the Proximus store, bored and alone waiting for my turn.
14:45 pm some chick is gonna interview or cast me or something, for a TV "documentary". A hooker who's looking for a different job lol like I'd ever let go of my current job. I earn hundreds of euros a day. Cashier, clerk, cleaning lady - beggars earn more! I'd rather die. Dying is still an option anyways. My life still sucks and now I can't even call that psychiatric help thingy because Proximus turned off my phone for unpaid bills. I paid last week for chrissake!!! I NEED to make that call, my life literally depends on it. Without therapy and pills I won't live much longer. I mean I just saw my reflection and I'm so fucking ugly, something needs to change. I have the face of an alcoholic. I don't drink but I'm still ugly as hell. I mean, why else does no decent guy want me? The scum that pays me doesn't count, they just suck. They just want to fuck some easy-looking chicks and fat girls are easy for fear of rejection. And niggers and Arabs have bad taste anyway, they LIKE fat. Yuck. All I want is a full-blow anorexia. But no, I got borderline instead. Anorexia would solve my problems, borderline just makes them worse.

I still wanna die, less because of suffering but b ecause it's so damn easy. All problems, gone with the swallowing of a few Phenobarbitals with some Martini. I mean it’s not fucking fair. I was thinking about that while on the subway to school this morning. People effortlessly get everything they think is natural, like good grades, being able to study, lose weight, get a guy, only I don’t get shit from life, not even the ability to try. It’s not fair and I don’t see why I should be putting up with this unfair shit. You want to keep me around, you help me solve my problems, it’s that fucking easy.
Oh speaking of problems, I’m getting my HIV test back on Thursday and AGAIN those motherfucking retards will tell me to see their psychologist.
a) I am not going to talk with anyone in FRENCH unless it has direct benefit for me. Immediate, tangible benefit.
b) I am not going to waste time on things that may get things off my chest but won’t solve shit. Does talking burn fat? Does talking make me younger? Does talking change my grades? Does talking cure AIDS? I don’t think so, so leave me the fuck alone.
c) I don’t need a free-of-charge aka incompetent psychologist. I need a psychiatrist because a psychiatrist can prescribe me happy pills. I don’t need talking to strangers, I need drugs. When I need someone to talk to, I’ll talk to people who I care about enough to want them to understand me. Why care about what some doctor thinks? I won’t deal with them in everyday life anyways. “Hi, I’m Anna and I wanna die, kthx bye”. Come on…
For making the mere – obnoxious, repetitive – suggestion for me to go see that shrink, I’d love to see them die but then who’s gonna make those free-of-charge STD tests? Ok, testing for all STD’s (gonnorrhea, HIV, syphillis, herpes, hepatitis) you pay €12.90 but the HIV test alone is free. But this time they offered to pay and insisted on it, too. I hate them for that. I’m not some poor little girl that can’t spare 13 euros for health. I wanted to pay but they wouldn’t let me. I don’t want pity or charity when it’s about money. I hate that, it makes me feel so pathetic. I work hard, and although the job tends to suck, I work with pride. Because I work. I WORK and I sweat for my money and I want to put it to use. I don’t feel shame about my work. I feel shame about receiving inappropriate charity. I’m capable of working for my own money, so I fucking do. What do I work for when others pay in my place? What do I let those 50-year-old Arab fuckers fuck me for? I can’t take care of my BPD on my own and I can’t take care of the problems BPD has caused and keeps causing, I already need help with that (weight, debt, studies, health,..). So at least let me feel capable of paying my own bills wherever I can… It’s a ridiculous 13 euros we’re talking about!

I can't believe I told Jon my darkest secret. I can believe even less that he doesn't seem to hate or avoid me after that. I mean, what I did made me feel like I deserved to die for a long time. But maybe he's as insensitive as he acts. I know a few people who'd cancel my human rights for what I did. But Jon just goes "Aha". Kinda weird but kinda calming too. I wonder what his limits are but curiosity killed the cat so I won’t test it. Not on purpose anyway. But who knows where the borderline carries me next. I’m quite stable but I can’t trust it. I just finished reading Anthony Walker’s “The Courtship Dance of the Borderline”. I’m so glad I have no boyfriend, although I’d love to have one. I need affection, sue me. But I’d just hurt and destroy him with my sickness. “Why do you need to go to work? Why go see your parents? Are you that disgusted of being with me? You promised to never leave me!”. Extreme, but typical borderline talk. I did this to my mother so often and I feel horrible about it. I wouldn’t want to put another loved one through the same shit. Another good reason to kill myself. Not to hurt and annoy others anymore.

Actually Jon kind of really frustrated me today. I can’t say he “pissed me off” because that’s like, not the word here. He wasn’t being bad, I just hated his choice of who to side with. Like, when I arrived at school today, it seemed that there was a workshop that I didn’t know of. So I asked the teacher if I had to participate today. Instead of answering my yes/no question, he hit below the belt yelling at me that he isn’t here for solving my personal problems. WTF? I was only asking if or when it was my turn and when that had been announced. And the proof he tried to show me was non-existant. Hm, weird.
So anyways, Jon acted like I was overreacting. So what if I kicked the fence, a garbage bag and a trolley, I was fucking yelled at for no reason! So Jon concluded that that teacher is only human and has his flaws, and I don’t say he’s wrong. What’s fucking wrong is that Jon seems to accept that guy’s flaws and human-ness, but not mine! I’m only human, too so if Mr V. yells at me for no reason, that’s forgivable, but when I feel hurt about it, Jon says I’m being unfair? WTF? He still seems to think that I’m that tough macho woman who’s always wrong because she’s just a bit weird anyways, so he won’t take me seriously. I thought I’d prooved him wrong about that, but no. Do I need to suffer a nervous breakdown or worse, cry in front of him or other friends who’ve known me as strong, before some of them people realize that, I too, am merely human and absolutely hurtable? I was being polite, just asked a question, and that guy yelled at me and even told me I was stealing his time! HE was the one going on and on and on about things HE brought up and which were totally out of line, out of context, out of topic. He is a good teacher, no doubt about that, but he was still being fucking unfair and mean but Jon only sees my reaction and thinks I deserved it. It’s not that because I’m weird and V. is a good teacher, that he’s automatically right and I, wrong.

So anyways, seems like I can forget about school. Jon asked me what I was gonna do if I had to quit school. I honestly don’t know what to do with my life if that happens. The only future I’ve been seeing was studying at Rits. Problem is, the day I’ll know for sure that I’ll have to leave, it’ll be September. Not cold enough to freeze to death after a coma-inducing dose of sleeping pills. I can’t swallow 180 pills at a time though. I need the freezing cold to finish the job. I’d know where to do it, everyone who truly cares about (knowing) me does. I mean, it’s obvious. And no, it’s not Tel Aviv or Tokyo.

Pictures

A few pictures I made to express my typical feelings. And don't even think of committing image theft. The copyright of these is with me only.

Evanescence - "Missing"
And if I bleed,
I'll bleed
Knowing you don't care

You won't cry for my absence I know
You forgot me long ago

HIM - "Join me in death"
This world is a cruel place
And we're here only to loose

Dir en grey - "Kodou"
I am addicted to the perceived fate

Because I can't take it anymore
Because I can't stop it anymore

Kill the voice,
Close your eyes
And drowning in darkness,
Stray around

RTT Ruin
This shows a place that's holy to me. I return there from time to time. The blood is real, I found out that razor blades don't hurt that bad. Only they leave obnoxious scars. The pills on the pic are Luminal, look it up. The writings come from song lyrics (see above). My friend called this "unexpectedly emo", but if only he knew how "emo" I was most of the time...


Help, redefined
"We're doing this to help you" aka What psychiatries do to you. Photomanipulation.


Purchase of Happiness
Things worth living and fighting for. You struggle to jump from one insignificant, but temporarily life-saving pleasure to another as you're burning out inside.


Ruins
My heart


The Book
My last will, pages filled with reasons, thoughts and post-mortum instructions. Along with the pills I'd take. Hidden them well.


Bunnies
What borderline feels or can feel like.

Do I smell bad?

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
(Don McLean – “Vincent”)

This is my attempt at understanding myself and deal with BPD – Borderline Personality Disorder. I won’ explain what that is, just consut Wikipedia. Why am I writing this and publishing it as well ? Well, it helps. It helps me think twice before speaking and it may help others understand BPD before judging people who suffer from it. Because we do suffer immensely. It’s said that one out of 10 borderliners commit suicide.
I’ll slightly change names to protect some close people’s privacy. I’ve changed them in a way that they themselves and those who know them personally, will still know who’s meant.

January 27th 2009, 6.15PM
I've now known that I'm borderline for about a month or two. Before, I thought I was simply born to loose, born to fail and to suck and that the only solution was suicide. Now I know there's hope in the form of therapy although it took a serious suicide “announcement” in the form of an internet search for barbiturates to make me look for help. Police came, Interpol had alarmed them of that user who was looking for drugs for suicidal intentions. Afraid of being locked up in a loony bin I promised them to get help of my own free will in order to make them leave. Now I’m seriously looking for help. I’m still considering death and I have the pills well-hidden. I’ve gotten used to and calmed by the fact that I have a way out that I can use any time. My last will is written. The day a person of trust finds it in their post box, it’ll be too late. However I can no longer say that by Febrary this year I’ll be dead and that was originally the plan when I started writing my testament at new year’s night. I was determined and during that period (November-December-January), I lost interest in a lot of things that kept me afloat. Now it’s “do or die”.

So today I met 3 of my 4 closest friends at the same time which is rare because they’re from 2 different environments and although I still don’ feel like I can « let it all out » I think I can trust them, especially Jon. Eversince he made me spill the beans abot the barbiturates, he seems to realize that sometimes, I need my friends’ affection displayed more openly than normal people do. And eventhough I no longer have the hots for him (he ain’t even my type, was it really romantic love or just bigass affection?) I still love him as the best friend I’ve ever had. He doesn’ judge but he does criticize, he never loses his cool. It calms me to be around him, all my troubles seem to disappear. I don’t want him to feel responsible for my wellbeing, but it’s a fact that I’m at my best around him. And the moment he leaves, the blue sky turns grey, that’s my perception everytime a “happy-pill” is flushed out of my system. He motivates me but he also slows me down when needed.

Now I know what to blame my horrible fits on. I’ve always had a bad temper and when I exploded, I did my very best to emotionally hurt the other person and hurt myself by doing so. This was usually my mother : the closer and the dearer a person is to me, the worse I will hurt them. Since she moved far away I’ve calmed down but I’m still so very sorry for all the pain I’ve put her through. And even now I cannot promise her that her dearest and only daughter will live and be happy. But now that I know that I’m not a bad person but « just » sick, I feel like I can control myself so I won’t hurt those closest to me again. Or at least, I’ll try. Jon would be the likeliest victim just because he means so much to me and the last thing I want is to hurt him. Not only for the simple selfish reason that I don’t want to lose him but also because he’s a wonderful person and I don’t intend to be the first to change that. Borderline constantly has you provoke and test relationships. I’m trying to keep myself in check with Jon. Luckily, we’re just good friends, not as close as I am to my mum, so I’m very unlikely to ever get him to cry, break down and crumble as I often did to my mum. I’d have to explode for that and I rarely, or even never, explode with “just friends”.

So anyways, today I went to the cinema with Jon, Stan and Kartrin. « Eleve libre » was a weird movie about a boy discovering his sexuality in a foursome. I didn’t exactly need to see a 40-year-old dude fellate a 17-year-old but I think I’ll live…

So what I was gonna say when I trailed off at the thought of old men being submissive towards little boys, I realized 2 things about my 2 very best friends which I noticed again today. I love being with Cathy but I don’t feel the same intense emotions that I feel towards Jon or Karlo. I’ve known her for 10 years, the boys for not even 2. It’s not Cathy’s fault but I always switch to cool mode when I’m with her while I dare to be emotional and clingy with the guys. Maybe Cathy and I are simply not made for sharing hugs and intense emotions ? We know of each-other’s issues but we never get intense over it. We treat them very matter-of-factly. The other thing is something I noticed about Jon. Everytime we touch inadvertently, he flinches back. Be it shoulders touching at the cinema, legs touching on the crowded bus or feet touching in bed (as in “sleep-over”, not “sleep together”), he seems to be allergic to me on a physical level. I wonder, am I that disgusting ? I shower every damn morning… And I’m not gonna rape him. It’s not that just because I had a crush on him, that I get hot everytime I happen to touch him. Actually, he never turned me on. It’s kind of mean when he acts like I’m a smelly, contagious fungus covered in dog poo. It’s something else when he goes silly-hysterical over hugs, or that’s what I thought until it occurred to me that not all his evasive maneuvers to physical contact with me, are an obvious comical act. It’s more like a horse that flinches when it touches an electric fence. I can’t smell that bad, I mean, I’ve had sex with 118 rather enthousiastic men so far and they never complained and they didn’t touch denim, they sucked my pussy. So what should be expected to smell worse ? A pussy fucked by 17 men in one day, or an arm that has been scrubbed and deo’ed just a few hours ago ? This is the kind of situation that has me mistrust my judgement. Is it the BPS talking, making me feel hated and disgusting, or does he really have a problem with me ? I’m trying to think he doesn’t but the evidence… He’s my best friend, can’t be that bad? Or am I overestimating his friendship? My reasoning tells me we’re good but I don’t avoid physical contact with close friends, he does in my case. So is there a problem or am I being paranoid again?

What I’ve just been typing reminds me of how you can never, at no time, trust your mind to be clear when wou’re a borderliner. I thought I was clear and lucid writing this but in the end, the disease is omnipresent. I do not trust my feelings and the thoughts I’m putting down here. I love my friends, but while the little angel on my left shoulder tells me that they love me back, the little demon on my right shoulder is reminding me of possible problems that might proove the little angel wrong.

Just finished the chocolates a customer had given me. They were great. Getting presents always embarrasses me though, I feel so unworthy and when someone spontaneously gives me a present, I feel guilty and owing. I shouldn’t because that makes me prone to abuse and being taken advantage of, but I can’t reject and refuse every damn nice gesture people make either.