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.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
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?
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?
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, January 26, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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