| These are simply excerpts from my journal, so enjoy the insanity that is me. |
| 6/27/01 Things are going on inside my head, I just don't want to hurt anyone or do anything to scare or pain them. I guess cutting them all off was my last protective action, my last act as a real friend. They don't understand, I know that, and it may hurt them a little right now, but it wuz the right thing to do. ~Raksha |
| 6/27/01 I was scratching myself in my sleep again. I drew blood on my face, bruised my arm, and I dunno what else. Everything is spiralling down again and I don't have the strength or will to stop it. I'm not sure I want to. It's sick, isn't it? Well I already knew that I wuz fucked up so oh well. Am I just a pretty face, nothing on the inside? So very empty? In place of a soul I have a beast that creeps under my skin at nights and mornings. I will never be free. I'm already dead. ~Raksha |
| Psychotic Bitchyness |
| 6/27/01 I don't think you understand how preoccupied my mind is with death, how many ways there are to go, the possibilities of how I could make it happen now, right now, this minute, just end it all for no other reason than that I can and/or that I want it to end, to go away. Sometime I just see things or feel about myself that are not quite human. And why the fuck won't this thing get out of me!?! ~Raksha |
| 6/26/01 Under my masks, both physical, emotional, metaphysical, metaphorical, I am so very ugly, horrible, disgusting, disturbed, cruel. I can still feel it inside me. The nausea is back. The movie reminded me of something I never told you, or anyone for that matter. Sometimes I wake up in the morning, parts of me, like my hands or feet or legs don't look human and I try to change their position to make it better but it doesn't and it disgusts me and scares me but I can't seem to look away. It's horrible. It's starting again. ~Raksha |
| 6/26/01 You know what makes me sick? Therapists and Psychologists saying it's bullshit for a teen to try to kill themselves. It's like, well thanx for empathizing! Insults don't really help you know. Girl, Interupted is now my favorite movie. Somethings in it remind me so much of me and my situation, other parts are total bullshit. One part especially hit home though cuz it's something I feel a lot of the time. It hurts to smile. What is it that I fear? Not death. Death is my friend. A wonderful, beautiful consort. Maybe life. But no, I don't fear life, I simply hate it. Well, not hate. More of have and utter disdain, disgust, and/or complete indifference of and toward life. Perhaps I fear myself. Things I know I can do. The things I am capable of. The dark thoughts and visions in my head. The things I want to do so much that it hurts. Or maybe I'm not scared of me, but of the thing inside me. The thing that is trying to get out, that I want to destroy, that tears me apart, that can control the outside world somehow from within, making a bedroom, a house, a life into a prison for the mind, heart, body and soul. It's inside me. Crawling around. I can feel it under my skin. Moving. I heard it. From inside me. I HEARD IT. It is so fucking real. But it can't be. It's so hot. So fucking hot. It's moving. Seething. Itching. Pinching. Scratching. I'm burning up. Make it go away. It's in me. Make it stop!!! I just went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, and washed up: trying to reconnect my nerve endings with the real world, not the world my mind creates in the absense of the light. Now as much as I doubt I'll be able to, I need to get some sleep. It's only 1:13pm but I've been going to bed really early lately cuz of the meds. Luv ya. Buh Bye and Blessed Be. ~Raksha |