Monday 30 December 2013

all i'm going to do today is read georges bataille and feel sorry for myself

Sunday 29 December 2013

the idea that things heal is bullshit. i can think about something small and seemingly insignificant that happened years ago and still feel the weight. i have never moved on. i will never be able to willingly detach myself from my life - the only time that detachment has ever happened has been during depressive episodes where i finally wake up and weeks have passed and i can't separate my dreams from reality. it happens with a frequency that astounds me. and it scares me, and i feel like a coward. and i watched secretary a few days ago and i didn't realise that so much of the story involved the pain we inflict on ourselves vs the pain we allow others to inflict on us, a contrast i'd never even considered before. when maggie gyllenhaal turns up at james spader's house after their relationship has been established and she bangs on the glass door and she's crying and she's trying to say something to him but all that comes out is "i want, i want" - i know exactly what she was trying to say, i want you to hurt me. not, i want you to help me or hold me or stay with me. i want you to hurt me, because sometimes that's the only acceptable way. and who is saved, who is healed?

Tuesday 24 December 2013

I chuck my smoke and turn hard from the
morning outside with the taste of something
true in my mouth

my inner thighs are covered in bruises and bitemarks i had a really good weekend

Wednesday 18 December 2013

i just wish someone would want me. is that too much to ask? to be wanted, to be someone's priority

Tuesday 17 December 2013

"I am accused. I dream of massacres.
I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them,
Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the
world conceives
Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love"

Wednesday 4 December 2013

remember being fourteen and slitting my skin to see what would come out of me, i was always disappointed and surprised (relieved?) to see the blood
i hate that for the longest time i confused pain with love. i hate that i live in a society where women are taught that violence represents passion. i hate that it is normal to believe that "the reason we hurt each other so much is because we are deeply in love with each other". i hate that films and books and every single type of media i can think of puts forward this belief that true love means betrayal, and pain, and hurt. that the only way you can know if someone really loves you is if they leave a mark.

for the longest time i thought it was acceptable to be fucked around and hurt so much by one person, because everything in my life had taught me that love is unbalanced and fucked up and confrontational and passionate and angry and unrequited. i hate that i hurt myself for the longest time because i thought that i deserved what you gave me, that it was normal for women to go to bed drunk and weeping because their man had done them wrong. i hate that i romanticised it, that as soon as i was removed from the situation i justified it in my head and tried to make it sound beautiful and poetic and worthwhile. i hate that back then i was so fucked up that i'd rather have you in my life treating me like shit than not at all. i hate that i prioritised your presence over my own, in my own fucking life.

Monday 2 December 2013

"Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone"

in my recent dreams i am always losing the people i love. i wake up crying and unsettled because i can't stop it from happening. i dreamt that i, along with two of my closest friends, went on a pilgrimage to find three girls who had gone missing in the woods, and when we found their bodies, the girls who had gone missing were us. we buried the bodies and made grave markers out of sweets and coloured paper and leaves. it was a beautiful day. i didn't feel sad at all. we walked out of the woods together, silent, hand in hand, knowing exactly where we were going. and now i can't remember where that was - if it ever existed in the first place, if it ever will