Under the Noctilcalitic Moon
"Aporia: At His Defence"
No more words, only a forgetting.
If only he didn't hurt me. If only i could stop this pain. Just one day without this pain. I'd give anything for that peace. He doesn't know. No one knows. I need to purge these emotions. I'm dying. He's killing me.
My head hurts. I can't help it.
I wish he loved me.
Why did he want to keep it from me? Why does he blame me? I'm really worthless to him. That's how he makes me feel. I can't even talk to him anymore. I'm in so much pain.
If only he'd tell me that he was sorry.
I can't go on like this. I'm not living. I dont remember what life feels like.
No matter what he says, he will always hurt me. That is all i see before me. I try to forget. I try to make things normal. Better. I try to forgive. It's eating at me. Inside out, i feel like i'm disappearing.
He doesn't love me. He doesn't love me. Why would he hurt me constantly like this if he did? He lies. I dont know anymore. Maybe this is all a nightmare. I keep telling myself that, hoping that i'd wake up. I'm hurting to much i can't stand it.
I love him. I love him. I can't go on. I'm not right now. Sanity is only a memory. He doesn't know, because he can't see pass himself. One day, he'll see. I pray.
How much longer till I reach the bottom of this endless pit?
Come find me, for I have lost my way.
"The Borders of the Vertical Oasis"
He said that we'd talk next week. I dont remember him saying that. he didn't say it. He did. I dont know anymore.
I wake up hungry. I go to sleep. Morpheus is as big as a horse.
Nothing makes sense. I know things that aren't true. Who is this? Where am i? There are not explainations, only death. Only death.
I dont want to be there. I dont want to be here. I dont want anything. My head is about to explode. I'm no longer me. I want to die. I want to bleed. I want my pills. I want the pain to end. I dont care. I dont care. I dont care. I dont care.
He turns away.
Stab.
I've fallen.
Angels drag me back into my cell.
There is no escape.
I see his photograph before me.
Do not mock me! Get out of my system... You see the blood? It's really pus. I'm pus. I'm nothing. Yes. Hurt me. Drive it through me... My only wish is to be slayed. Die in your arms. I love you. I love you. I love you...
There is only one paradise i know of and it is under his skin. I do not want to sleep. It is there that reality is real. I grind my teeth till all i taste is my bloodied gums.
Help me.
I bang my head. i bang my wrists. The bars of my cage are made of razors. Cut me. Cut me.
If only he was here to hold me. Bundle me in a sheet. I'd fall asleep, listening to the sound of our hearts, beating as one. As it should. It was suppose to be. As it should be. Now all i have is the drowning, the screamings, the pain, the blood, the horror, the waking dreams, the voices, the madness, the me.
There is nothing more to look forward to. I've run out of happiness, I've ran out of peace.
Just keep holding me for a while. I'd like fall asleep.
You are the shepard, but I am not and can never be one of your sheep.
"Here"
I died so long ago. I can't remember the exact moment but i can already feel my body rotting all around me. Slowly, it's faculties are shutting down. I just want everything to end.
"Dreaming"
I can't differentiate my waking from my sleep anymore. Everything seems either too real or too illusionary.
Everything hurts. Nothing feels right anymore. There is no more truth, only a waiting. I dont know what lies ahead. Only death.
Little white pills - My salvation. Ready to take me away when things hurt too much. Little blade - My Path. I'll float over the barriers in a river of blood.
Plusating wounds. Infection. Lust.
I need to trancend. Free me from this cage of being. I'm crying. I hurt. Don't trick me. Dont tempt me. I know that they are all lies. What right do you have to try and control me?
"Bohemian Concubine"
I'm someone's other self. I'm not my own. Yet i am only me. I hate this confusion. I hate living for someone else. I dont want to caught up in this system of existance. I dont want to exist.
There are no alternatives, no escapes. I am the true nothingness of somethingful. I am the inbetween. The child on acid. I cannot run. I cannot crawl. I refuse the system. I reject myself. I abject myself.
Falling. Falling. I lose myself in the machine. I cannot express this hate unless I am in the system. The language confines me. Ooga booga has no meaning, not in this context. My soul screams a sound that has no documentation, no convention. No one understands. It is not the norm and i am once again left outside.
Do not control me. My eyes are wide open, yet i refuse to see what you see. This is not my hand. This is not my voice. This is the puppet master in action. This is not me.
There is no solution. Only the realisation that i am in this cage. I hate myself. I am the cage. I am what they have made me. This cage is my eyes, my skin, my bones, my heart, my fingernails. Crawl away. I peek into the beyond and i see nothingness. That is the truth. We are approaching a semeticless oblivion.
This trap makes me my own enemy. I yearn to break free from my self and body. There are no rules. Society is my bondage and my restraints cut into my flesh. I feel the pain. Don't you feel your pain too? Are you numb or are you blind?
Society's whore. Use me. Try me. Test me. Taste me. Abuse me. I am nothing to you and everything to you. Enslave me because I am there to be enslaved by you. It is in your nature. You are control.
You cannot follow me in death. You cannot reach me there. I know it. You know it. You fear it. You abhor it because you cannot touch me there. There you are nothing, because only against that landscape will you acknowledge in full vocal analog that i am your everything and you are my nothing.
"Bandaged Gothic Lolita"
It's another cutting night. i wish i could stop. The bandages itch against my skin. I'm embarrassed. I'm lonely.
I wish someone would put me out of my misery.
I just know that nothing i can do can change anything. Reality is controlled and determined by he who is in power and i have given this force that power over my truths. I can no long defend what i have no control over. I'm too tired to fight him. I'm already dead to myself.
I'm ready to go. i just wish i could.
Hold me back from myself. Save me from the beast that i am. I am not strong enough. I'm dead, but still breathing. I'm wrong. I'm not suppose to be here. This is all a mistake.
Help...
"The King of Dreams"
The voices are back. I thought i'd lost them for good. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what i will do to myself. I'm trapped i this nightmare and can't wake up.
Help me. Someone.
Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Pain. They are beyond me.
I know there is no truth.
I'm lost in this darkness and i can't escape. My burden is heavy and i drag my body through this desert, scrapping my skin against the jagged edges of conventional reality. There is no saving me. I want to die.
I tired to stop the pain, but i came back. I filled my arms with the king of dreams and he pulled me back from the edge. But how long is this going to last? How long before his hold on me wanes?
His innocences and purity fading into nothingness like everything else. I am not his guardian. I am not his guide. He is my servant as i am his slave.
I hunger again for blood. He knows nothing of my desires. Regal and gentle, he touches my brow and calms me.
There is still time. His eyes speak to me. Into me.
I'm dying inside myself. I can smell the decay. I throw up my loneliness and bile in my escape in dreams.
Stop the voices. Drain out my evils. Make me better. Make me whole. I am nothing.
It is not about love. This is not about anyone else. The voices need to be stopped. They are not real.
Cut me again. Let the evil flood out of my body and into the darkness. I dont want to know. I dont want to hear my own screams.
"All I Want"
Extracts from Hakase Mizuki's The Demon Ororon, Volume One:
This was my dream. To share my life with someone who would always be there.
My dream... my life.
---
He said,
"I made a promise to you. I will never leave. Don't cry my dear. Until your dying day, I'll be at your side. Until your body lies dissolving in a rotting heap and melts back into the soil whence it came. Dry your tears. I'm here now."
---
You're sweet, Ororon.
"No, I'm not. I'm cold"
You're cold... but sweet. I don't know what i'd do without you. Now that you're here. I'm happier then i've ever been.
---
This world is so big. When i'm alone. I feel lost. Lost in a forest of solitude.
"I dont want you to feel lost. I'll stay here with you until you fall asleep."
What if i dont fall asleep until morning?
"Then i'll stay with you until morning"
What if i never go to sleep?
"Then i'll stay with you forever."
---
I watched the blood run down the side of my wrist.
What a waste. I'm poison. Nothing but posion running through my veins. I'm not human. I'm no angel. I'm definitely not a demon. I'm casted aside in this world of binaries. I'm lost and unprotected. Hunted and hated.
Save me. Dont leave me.
It was apparent to me, last night, that no matter how i survive, things will never get better. I can only drain myself of my pain.
There are so many forces against me.
I feel faint.
There's was so much blood. Thick and black. There's nothing good inside me. Only pain. Only misfortune. A parody of the normality. I can't get away.
If only he could stop hurting me.
I still love him - no matter what. I remember his promise.
That is my dream... that is my life...
"The Beast and the Black Wave"
I can't describe my depression. The definition escapes me. It consist of the voices, a bleakness that sucks at me, a pain that slices through me, a sensation of nausea...
Like a beast that stalks me, appearing at the corners of my eyes. The dark man, the ghost, the pillar of subzero air. It follows me around. It hits me at the back of my head, pins me down and holds me there. There's is no escaping him. A wave of darkness that engulfs me, and drags me along a sea bed of desolation in it's undertoll. I'm lost.
I thought love could pull me out of this. I thought, if i could break through to the surface, he would take my hand and save me. The distance between us is to great and i find myself fighting this torrent on my own, the forces slapping at my skin. He reels away from my hand, my claws emerge. I am my beast. I am the darkness. The black wave is my body. I am the despair. If my flesh could crawl, I'd run away from myself. I'm screaming.
Just let me go.
If he could love me, if could hold me down and be my light. I'd be alright. I'd go towards that light and bask in its warmth. He's be my gravity and the world would be less mad. I could muffle my screams, because i could hold on to him. I'd cease to float in the sea of desolation. I'd have an anchor. The waves would still hit me, but i'd stop tossing in the current. I'd have a bit of peace.
I dont want to be smashed up against the rock.
If he loves me, I'd be the siren. I'd still be the beast and I'd still be the black wave, but I'd be his siren, fighting against the pain. His love could holding me steadfast against the elements, against myself.
"Mortal"
I wandered around the city today. My mind stift and tired. My coat flapped in the autumn chill. I caught my reflection in the glass windows of the shops. A gothic dream in a shell of grace. My eyes are too large and liquid. Too innocent and too tired for this world. I wish i could pluck them out. My lips too full and sensual for a heart this dead. I wish i could bash them bloody. What a waste. I wish he was here to consume me. At least then i'd know that I had a reason to be who i am.
This is so unfair. People keep asking me why i'd want him. Why i'd endure all this. The distance, the pain, the cruelty. I reply the same way i always do. "Because I love him. Beacuse I know I don't want anyone else." My mantra. My will. A reason for me to survive myself. This beast.
Human life seems so fragile and brief. I know because I've stood on the brink of it, staring into the beyond, a blur of oblivion.
I apply a salve to my wounds so that scars will not show. A vain attempt to preserve a vain body. Why do i go through this? Why do i keep rotating in this circle of pain. Why can't i save myself. i'm sinking deeper into this quicksand and i'm drowning all alone, though everyone is watching. He is watching. He should know that i'm dying inside, that the soul is asleep.
It would have been easier if i had cancer - that i would soon disappear. I'd let it eat at me. My head shaven and shorn like a heretic ready for burning, in preperation for the therapy. He'd love me. He'd stop being mean to me. I don't know for sure. I can only hope.
There is only him. I don't see anyone else who could be like him. Who could fit into that space the way he does.
My head hurts. Maybe this cancer is manifesting. I hope so. I dont think i can go on with this pain. I can only dream on, even if i feel that it's all hopeless.
"Tears of Blood"
I think I started cutting myself when crying stopped being enough. I needed some mode of expression to reflect how i felt. The vision would start and the only was to stop them was to comply. I feel the pain. Everything feels more real, or just real, when i feel the pain.
When did i turn this morbid? When did i start being a case study for self mutilation?
I'm bleeding now. Three cuts in the same ritualistic place. It's the same area, at least. It's some peace of mind to know that if things got bad enough I'd have the guts to run the blade all the way through the artery and end it all.
I dont cut over the same place twice - not until they heal fully anyway. It doesn't matter. The sting brings me a bit of comfort. The comfort i was looking for in him.
I dont blame this on him. Cutting myself is not a form of punishment. I know it's wrong. I know i need help, but i can only deal with this magnitude of pain this way - for now. I'll stop one day. I'll stop when things get better. I hate myself. I hate cutting. I hate the blood. I hate everyting inside me.
I rather hurt myself then to hurt him. I dont ever want to hurt him. I love him too much to ever want to hurt him.
He says that i should stop hurting us, that i hurt us when i cut myself. He hurts me. He hurts me so much. At least the hurt i give myself when i'm cutting is tangible and i can see it heal. The hurt he gives me just gets buried until i forget them them. They dont matter. He matters. He's all that really matters to me. Everything hurts. That's the way it is for now. That's the way it has to be for now. I have to survive this.
This is not him.
I'm alone.
Don't cry.
"No Escape - A Mirage of Salvation"
"Why are you being so cold to me?"
"I think you know. You're smarter then that, Nick."
"I don't know."
"I don't want to go into it."
"I do."
"I'm having a great night, I'm not going to let you ruin it for me."
"I'm sorry."
"You don't even know what you're sorry for."
"I'm just sorry for being me."
"Dont be sorry. You should be proud of who you are..."
I hung up.
I couldn't take it anymore. I thought, after another day of torment, I'd finally have some peace tonight in his attention. I thought my salvation would be in his voice. A few kind words. A gentle gesture to make the pain worthwhile, bearable for a few more moments. Someone to love me.
Only coldness. Only cruelty. I know that I'm truly alone. Why do i keep lying to myself.
This is not him. I try to comfort myself. I try to remember that he loves me.
Convince yourself. He loves you - somehow.
There's no one to run to. I'm stuck, trapped in a cage of my own being, wishing, hoping that he loved me more. I wish he could feel what i'm feeling inside. It hurts so much.
He's my only home. He's hurting me. It doesn't make sense. I hate myself for being me. I hate this pain. I hate these weaknesses. I hate being depressed. I hate myself.
I'm not worth it. I'm not worth this. That's what he meant. God forbid I'd ruin his night. His good night that he cannot live without and the only thing he could go to redeem his ego was to send me a message a few minutes later, "I'm glad you stood up for yourself. have a good one."
In the end, he disapproves of everything i do, everything that i am.
He doesn't get it. It's not about me standing up for myself. I couldn't take it. I couldn't take hurting him. I couldn't take him showing me that he hated me so much. I'm hurting him, by being here. I'm hurting him by existing. I dont want to be here. I don't want to be me. How much longer can i keep up this pretense, before i melt further away into madness. This is me. I am my monster. I am the daemon I'm fighting. I'm the incorrect defective nothing that eats at him. I hate this.
All i wanted was his embrace, his strength, some warmth to get me through the night. Someone to tell me that everything would be alright. That he still loved me no matter what. That tomorrow would just be another day closer to being with him.
I'm in so much pain. I'm betrayed and alone.
Emotionally raped over and over again.
I dont want to be like this. I want to fall into a great big nothingness that will consume me.
Confiding in him means nothing if all i'm running to is a cold hard wall.
Everything maybe a lie, but still, I believe in him. I have to. Without him as the gravity, there is nothing, because nothing can exist without him. Not in my reality. He doesn't understand.
There's no escape for me. I want to die.
Someone save me. Ben save me.
I still love him. I want to die.
I'm frustrated and trapped.
Stop hurting me. Stop the pain. Stop my pain.
I'll wait for you. I'll try. I'm always trying.
"Drowning In Dellusion"
I sit in my room and I know I’m slowing descending into some new madness. I’m don’t intend to stop myself this time. I being to feel the walls of my being cave in on me, engulfing me in a darkness that I can no longer describe. It’s hopeless this time. It has always been this way. I try not to struggle, but instead let nature take it’s course. It will be over soon. This spiral sinking will stop and the voices will cease. It always does. Eventually.
I never thought I’d be this way – a child of the borderline, bipolar era of dysfunctional families and just way too much fucked-up-ness for anyone to care or do anything about it. I’m sure people have tried to care. I’m sure that there are people out there still trying to do something about it. I can’t care. I would, if I could. If I could just pull myself out of this hellhole of pain and depression, I’d do so many things. I’d solve world hungry. I’d find a solution for world peace. I’d find a job and stop sponging off my parents.
Life was not always like this. I remember a better time, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. In reality, it could have been just as true that these “better times” never existed at all.
"Death Be Swift"
I'm freezing in my bedroom.
Ben called me this morning while I was watching "Boys Don't Cry" in class. I missed his 1st call and he freaked out at me. I wish he wouldn't do that. I'm hurting so much from his blast of coldness. I don't want to seem pathetic. I'm struggling as it is to survive myself.
I hate people using me. I'm sorry I can't allow them to have power over me. Any power over me. I'm not that kind of person. I won't respond if I dont feel like it.
I'm young and depressed. It's not fair that i should feel this way. I want something concrete to be cured of, then maybe things will start to get better. They can only mask over the symptoms, drug me up so good that I'd be too weak, too confused to do anything about my misery. Too small and quiet to scream.
I'm so frustrated. I want someone to love me - more. Not much has to be done. Just dont hurt me. Just love me.
"Tormented"
I feel like throwing up.
I dont know what to do with myself. I hate this feeling. This Ooozynessnessness that i can't displace. I hate not being able to sleep. I hate my nightmares. I want them to stop. They are worse then the voices. At least i can try to purge the voices with writing - some form of control over them. I try to convince myself that the voices aren't the ones that are making me write these things down.
I'm tired. I'm very tired but i can't move. I can't stand up. I can't pull back the sheets and lie in bed. I can manage a flop. A pathetic flop and curl up somewhere on the edge of the bed. The heater is close by, but i can't muster enough strenght to reach over the turn it on. I'm freezing. I wish i was dead.
My tummy starts to hurt. My head is spinning. I wish the lights would blow out. I think that maybe if i concentrate hard enough they would put themselves out. I'm so weak. I wish i was on the drugs. Then i'd have something to blame.
It isn't me, it's the medication and making me crazy. I could tell myself that. That might bring me some comfort.
"Who am I? Why am i here? What am i searching for here in this strange place day after day? I remembered a moment ago but i've forgotten."
I dont want this. Someone change the channel. Someone put me out of my misery. I can't go on like this. I dont know how many times i've said that. I want to do something about it, but nothing seems to work. I'm fucked. I'm zoinked out. I'm a mess. A bloody pulpy mess.
I'm grateful that i wasn't born with a more unfortunate backgroung. I'm grateful for all that is in my life. I just can't make sense of it. There is no reason for me to feel this depressed. That's what makes things worse. That's what makes me hate it. My situation and the way i feel. They dont mix. I can't make any sense of it. It only means that i'm fucked. I'm stupid. I'm crazy. I'm abnormal. I don't belong. I'm alone. I'm fucking alone and no one can understand because they dont have my brain. I'm a bad egg. A defective girl. I'm not special, just a byproduct of the idiocy of humanity.
"Shades of Red"
I had a big revealation today. Blood is the essense of your being. Not just in terms of biology. But in terms of the soul, your moods - my moods.
I accidently slit the bottom of my toe today, while cutting a callous. It was kinda stupid. but as i watched the blood trickle out of me, i felt a sense of repulsion. This is me. This is the real me.
The blood was different to that which i see flow out of my when i cut my wrists. It was thicker, darker, sweeter. Some sort of pain being release.
This blood that flows out of my injury now, it looks bright and liquid, like it is evident that i am still physically, medically alive and well. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate this bright coloured blood that tells me i'm still living though my everything is dead. It's mocking me. Even my biology is against me. Can't i just die?
"Cuts, An Essay and the Sleepless Night"
I'm staring at my cuts, my scars. I'm recalling the sensations and the pain. They seem to be right at my heels. I can't run away fast enough.
I spent the entire night writing up my essay. It looked kinda impressive, but i'm not sure what i wrote about or even if the sentances were coherent. I dont know - i wish i could fall asleep now, but the sun seems too bright and the world a wee bit too noisy. I'm waiting for the darkness to settle in.
I wonder how much longer can I keep up with this pretense. This face is not mine. This body is not mine. I am a creature. I'm trapped in something that cannot work or express what I really am. This brain does not fulfil me. It does not function in the way I want it to. I'm twisted and I'm fake. I'm not who I am.
Maybe I'm ultimately nothing inside. I'm a shell - hallow and empty, waiting for a soul to fill me up inside.
I can't do this. I can't continue like this like i'm walking around dead and listlessly. Everything seems unreal and just a simulation of shadow plays. I'm so miserable, but dont want to cry. I can't cry anymore.
I feel like all my ports are inverted to the ones that are needed to plug into this world. Nothing makes sense. I'm staring straight into my inpending doom and nothing can stop it.
I dont want to go. I dont want it to be this way. I'm falling like a leaf into a bottomless pit. I can't see the end of this hole, but i can make out the sky, the scenery pulling away from me. This is not the gravity i want.
I'm simply not there anymore. I never was.
"Amidst This Drop of Time Gone Dry"
I feel this loneliness that I can't describe. It's collected in my body and pushes it's way through my limbs, my chest, my skin and my very soul.
Isolation
I can't feel my body. I can't feel alive. I'm still healing from my cuts. I suppose it gives me some sense of change. Trimmed my nails to a sensible short last night. Had Nana-inspired square nails for a while and got tired of looking at and after them. Why is the world so dark and lonely for me? Did I missing something along the assembly line? Am I defective?
Humans are made to fuck, breed and die, just like any other creature. I don't want to fuck, I don't want to breed but I want to die. That sounds so wrong in so many ways.
Eating is no longer a pleasure, it's more like a painful necessity. I can slim down or put on weight like crazy. I have some control over my physique, I suppose, in that respect.
I hate the retro. It's nostalgic but It's over - get over yourself. Get over your childhood. Get over your past. Move on.
I started on book two of my memoirs. A journal, a diary, whatever you want to call it. A cryptic scrawl of thoughts that can never see the light of day.
This blog is a sideline. This is the remix. This is the left over spittle that hands off the side of your lips after regurgitation, knowing that that last drink was a bad idea.
I want to pass out. I want to scream. I have so much potential for greatness but I'm trapped in my own being. People grade me and are impressed at what they see, yet i feel like everything is just a pretense. Everything is just that simple, and they are all just too stupid to see that I am just me.
There is a difference in being and feeling special. I know I am special. I know I have the gifts. I have the guts and gull to market myself. Exploitation is within my vocabulary. I'm too smart, too mature, too fast for the world on so many levels, yet when it comes to the logical crunch of society. I fall so hard, I can't cope. I want to die. I feel like i'm trapped in a world missing dimensions that i know are there. I'm blinded by the ignorance. I get sucked into this cess pool of dumbness, of retardation.
I'm not deep, I'm normal, I'm not that special - I tell myself these things to try and stop the whirlpool from sucking me in. But it does. I'm a goddess and i'm going crazy.
I'm lost in a world of thin darkness and I'm waiting to be saved by some divine light. I can only sustain myself on my own for so long. There is only so much I can do.
"Little Black Book"
I almost went crazy at university today. I got off the bus and had this flood of thoughts that i could not purge or brush aside. I needed to write it out and get rid of it. I want the voices to stop.
I hate myself. I hate being this out of control. I spent the entire morning trying to convince myself that I looked okay. I had to tell myself that I was beautiful. I am. I know I am relatively gorgeous. I make heads turn when I walk down the street. Girls would kill to look like me, but I'm still afraid. I still hate the way I am. I hate the way people look at me and judge me. I hate my dyslexia. I hate who I am. Yet I love who I am. I dont want to be anyone else. I'm confused. I know that. You know that. It's obvious. No one has to point it out.
"Throbbing Half Pain"
One. Two Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
I'm counting the slashes on my wrist.
Only four of them seem to be bleeding slightly after my shower. The rest of them are old wounds.
I feel better - just a little. I don't know what to do with myself.
I didn't lick up the blood. I didn't want to. It's poison. I'm poison. It's someone else's death. It's someone eles's to drink.
I just want some peace of mind - if only for a while.
I'm sorry, but i do not regret what I have done. I have some relief now and that means that I can concentrate on my work. I thought about it in the shower. I have to be a machine now, just for a while, so that I can complete my university assignments. Compartmentalise. I dont have much time, but it's enough for me to create something good. The cuts should last me for a while. The swelling and the throbbing brings comfort - some. Enough to last me a while, so that i dont have to think about them again.
It started this week as once a day. then it was four today. that should last me a couple of days. i'll have my bandage. I'll have the sting. It's relief. I know i'll be ok for a while longer. I stopped the Zoloft. It makes me tired. I can't be tired anymore. I'm tired of being tired. I'll start again when i have time. I'll try to get better when i have the time. I know that's the right thing to do.
So much for will power - I was so close to making through the day without cutting.
"Blood Temptations"
It's so easy. Just a little further.
My flesh longs for the blade. I know I have to hold it all in.
The tension is taking me over. I'm not sure how to deal with this manner of distress. I can only write and confess this indecency. I dont want the bandage. I don't want the scars, but i'm hungry for the blood. If only...no.. i'm not a vampire. I'm not... You can't be self sustainable and call yourself a vampire. A blood witch? The bloody moon... yes it wasn't too long ago that there was blood on the moon.. perhaps... no... i know not the reasons... I'm only a witch... I can't profess these things.
I give offerings to no entities.
I long for the blood of my lover.
This blood lust for flesh has never ceased. It is fey to do so to. Perhaps, i can dismiss the vampire myth. I am no vampire...
The blade is save and covered again.
There shall be no blood shed tonight.
I still crave...
Just one cut...
No.
I'm in pain. Everything is taunting me. Every sharp object seems to beckon my scarlet carress. I want to bleed. I want to be hurt and bathe in my own essense.
I know this feeling will pass... though the more i deny it the worse my visions get. I dont want to die. I dont want to bleed.
I dont know the truth anymore.
I'm hurting, though i do not feel tormented quite as much.
"Struggle"
My skin is hurting for no reason. The muscles seem to be aching for the blade. I dont want to be like this. I feel taunted and teased.
I touch the blade for comfort, but i do not unwrap it from its dressing of clean tissue paper. I know if i pick it up again, i wont be able to stop myself. I will surely cut myself again.
I have my creams and bandages beside me just incase. I do not intend to use them. Not today.
"Anything to Make Me Feel Alive"
I took a nap. I woke up, surfed and took a nap. It feels like chronic fatigue, but I dont think i'll add that to my list of reasons as to why I'm biologically fucked.
I'm not doing this for attention. Heck, Most people dont even know about it. Though the bandage looks kinda cool. I dont want scars. I hate scars.
I know it's not right to cut myself. This is day four - phase 2. I have decided not to pick up the blade today. Though, having it close is some comfort. I feel sick. I wish I was normal again - whatever that was.
I want to climb out of this hole. I feel the light though. I keep a seperate journal. I stopped writing in it a while back. The pages are running out. My darkest thoughts fill its insides - "The Confessions".
I'm hurting. I want to scream but my voice is muffled. It's emotional paralysis. I want to stop crying.
"Understanding My Pain"
I've been doing some soul searching.
I know i'm slowly losing my mind.
Bloodletting/ - , letting/ n.
1. Phlebotomy, the act or process of letting blooding or bleeding, as by opening a vein or artery.
2. Outmoded medical practice used as a cure for illnesses ranging from fevers to hysteria.
There is a silence around self injury. A close relatve of bulimia and anorexia, it is estimated that up to 1per cent of the population has intentionally harmed itself - yet, for the most part it is a behaviour that goes ignored or unspoken of. Even in the mental health profession, the condition is considered a taboo. Commonly dismissed as an act of attention seeking, that perception couldn't be futher from the truth.
I have an overwhelming desire to hurt myself. For the past twelve days, under a undesirable load of emotional pressure, i finally buckled. Suffering from sever chronic depression for a good part of my years, i never thought i'd ever truly hurt myself in the way that i have been indulging lately. It is abnormal and goes against the very law of self preservation. Already it has taken its toll on my relationships, be it through the ignorance or the sheer exhaustion from helping me deal with this difficult period in my life. I can't thank those involved enough for having brought me this far, while i'm going through this pain and for understanding and loving me.
The Blood Red site provides some explaination to my condition - I know i'm not the only one out there who is like this.
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What is Self-Injury?
Self Injury (SI) is a coping mechanism, just like smoking cigarettes, alcoholism, drug abuse, overeating, anorexia, bulimia, over-exercising, etc.
"Self-injury is a self-preservation technique for many cutters; the self-mutilation relieves anxiety and/or depersonalization symptoms which could lead to psychosis or suicide if not alleviated. Self-harm can be focusing, calming. It can give a person a feeling of control over their lives and their bodies which they have experienced no other way. People trying to help cutters should not try to take this coping mechanism away from the cutters without helping them first come to terms with things that trigger incidents and learning new, healthier coping mechanisms with which to replace the old ones."
"For many self-injurers, self-mutilation seems the only appropriate response to the state of the world and to how they're feeling about it and about themselves. Many self-injurers are extremely intelligent, sensitive, and creative people who have a hypersensitivity to the world around them."
Why do people Self-Injure?
It's relief through release. Most people Self-Injure to relieve some unpleasant emotion, ranging from anxiety to depression. "Studies have suggested that when people who self-injure get emotionally overwhelmed, an act of self-harm brings their levels of psychological and physiological tension and arousal back to a bearable baseline level almost immediately."
There are many speculations about why people Self-Injure. Some experts think the behavior stems form childhood trauma or abuse. However, statistics don't support this theory. The backgrounds of people that SI are varied, coming from both abusive and non-abusive households. People also cited the need to feel real among their reasons for self-injury. Hurting themselves makes them feel something, where they otherwise feel numb to the world around them. Another theory concerning people that SI is chemical:
"Just as it's suspected that the way the brain uses serotonin may play a role in depression, so scientists think that problems in the serotonin system may predispose some people to self-injury by making them tend to be more aggressive and impulsive than most people."
"Abandoned"
How shall I begin this tale so that you will get some sense of what manner of creature I am? I have only come to learn these things through my experiences. Perhaps then you shall learn about me and my nature as i did, in the context of others. - Annabelle
I tried to reach out to my soulmate today. There was this point, this moment, when i felt like I could tell him everything and know that he would never, ever push me away.
He said that I was a waste of his time and that I was hurting us. He didn't care if i was sick. It was my fault that I was depressed. He pushed me away - again.
These are the little things that make me realise that there is no meaning not to cut myself. Rejection - rejection by him. It would have been in on form or the other. He wants that control. He needs it because he desires it. It doesn't matter what i say or do. He will use it against me. It's all about him. I am evil. That's why i cut. I am bad. That's why i cut. It drives me insane not to cut. If only he was more supportive. I wish he could have taken me in his arms and held me tight and said "Stop hurting yourself, just try, i'll be there to make all this pain go away. I'm always here for you."
Fairytales.
Love was suppose to overcome everything. I'm trying, i'm trying so hard but he doesn't see me.
In the glare of his reality, he has pushed me away. Internalise my emotions and I am perfect to him. I am in pain and i have no one to turn to. He pushed me away. They all push me away. I am a monster.
Frustration. I want release. He says i'm not worth it.
Why do i do this? Why can't i just stop? I'm so tired of cutting. I'm so tired of bleeding. I just want to stop these voices, visions and feelings in my head. I can't cope. I don't want to be like this. I hate him for not understanding. I hate him for laughing at me. I hate him for his ignorance and self righteousness. I hate him for being weak like me.
I still love him. He is still my soulmate. One day he will be ready - I can only have faith.
"Living by the Blade"
It's day three.
That makes three cuts in total. I can't stop myself. Everyday I inch closer and close to the throbbing pulse. It trembles under my skin, tempting me.
Today I allowed the blood to swell into a droplet and watched in fasination as it rolled off my arm, under its own weight. Do not judge me. You do not understand because you have not been here. I am not special in my condition, but not all of you know what i'm going through, so do not judge me.
Release me now.
"Bloodletting: My Vampyric Love"
I sliced my arm and watched the blood flow out of me. I could smell the metallic scent that immediately clung in the air.
I can't take this anymore.
I watch my fingers manipulate the blade, almost skillfully this time, again. My mind was fozen.
I hear my voice in my head. It's chanting now.
Do it...do it... again...
I made another mark...
I know not why I do it, but I do know I seek some meaning in the blood and the cuts. Where is the purity? Where is my truth? I've been called a slut, a whore, a goddess, a princess, an idiot, a witch, a priestess... the list goes on. What am I? Am I not blood and bone? Am I not simply flesh and pus? I've been loved and hated. I've been an angel and a demon. I know that I am all that can be created. Is it my crime to exist or is existance my punishment for something even more universally sinister? Am I constantly on trial?
What is it in this blood, in my essense, that makes me who I am? What is this liquid that evokes the worship and abjection of so many. I don't want to be me. I want to die. I want someone to stop me.
By cutting myself, I know that I have moved beyond the natural. No mortal chooses to die for no cause, no reason. I have become a monster. I know that. I am beyond the natural that I thought i connected to. I am no long human. I crossed the line.
The scars. I hate the scars. I hate the memories. I hate the loneliness.
Drink me up. I dont want to live.