Tuesday, March 1, 2011

I made a new blog, for my new life. The life that I will be doing everything right in, everything wrong in, but never anything in between... My new life involves Alice, Wonderland, Lewis Carroll, imaginary friends, my alternate reality, possibly my 'psychological problems', whatever the fuck I want. And I will not say the address, for nobody deserves to know what I know about Wonderland... Except my sister and possibly other interesting girls... I am not who I used to be. I am trying (but not hard enough) to fit the image of dream-Alice, but I fear Sin and Sorrow will always signify something to me, unless I can find a way to stop that... In any case, this means I am not depressed anymore. That took a while to fix and I still struggle but I'll find a way. I do not starve myself and hate the way I look anymore, for that is not Alice-like at all. I may sometimes restrict the food I eat, but that is all. I will get to Wonderland, and leave this life behind

Thursday, February 24, 2011

pink dress

Du bist mein anderes ich, du bist mein zweites gesicht...

On that note, my life is fucking wonderful. Why? because I am going to WONDERLAND. Wonderland. And that's somewhere Emilie Autumn could never get to. She's a poser, a failure, a liar. She's no Alice. She never was. Her precious Asylum is a lie, it doesn't even belong to her. She couldn't get to Wonderland so she made a reality of her own, but she didn't even make it a reality. She's a sell-out. A slut. She's not asexual, she's straight and loves to fuck men but she's too afraid to admit it. Well, she can admit that she fucks men, but she doesn't want to say she actually likes them. I still love her music and her book, but like Marilyn Manson said about the Bible, The Asylum is great literature. That's all. I used to believe her. She's not Wonderland-like at all. She probably thinks Wonderland will accept her, thinks that she's so special and amazing, just because her last name is Liddell. No, I am not jealous. I am angry.

Anyway, I need to prove that I have self-control. Why? It has to do with Wonderland. I have three possibilities of how to prove this, one of which will not work out anymore. Would have been great, though... Anyway, the two options I have left are food and sleep. Proving this matters especially after I turn fifteen. Oh, one more major test of self-control is controlling my anger. Really should work on that...

I'm not in looove, nor am I obsessed... I'm just very, very disappointed... God won't help me in matters like this. But I'm not like Marilyn Manson, thank God... I'm just a girl, playing the suicide Alice... That makes sense to idiots like me

I had six cups of tea in less than an hour and I couldn't be happier. Well, I COULD but god won't fucking allow it

Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice Alice

Alice. Dream-Alice. My dream-Alice. Lewis Carroll's dream-Alice.

I wish I was Hungarian...

I wish I was finished my novel studies project...

I wish I was a little girl...

I can be a little girl... Psychologically, anyway... Maybe... I'll try...

They said it's suicide... She's trapped inside her mind... She tastes like cyanide... Poisoned right through

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

dead is the new alive

I just got back from Montreal. The Emilie Autumn concert was yesterday, and it was fucking AMAZING. She had a new intro and it was beautiful and everything was shaking right before Best Safety Lies In Fear, and it was beautiful. Before the show started, my sister and I saw black stiletto shoes and started screaming our heads off... The girl wearing them walked over to the curtain and stuck her shoe out and other people started screaming, then she left. It was Veronica fucking Varlow. My sister and I were in the front row to the far left. During Unlaced when dearest Emilie was playing her violin, she walked over to where I was standing, knelt down about a foot in front of me, looked into my eyes, and smiled sweetly yet menacingly. I almost died. I am even more in love with Emilie now, way more. I wanted to touch her or scream 'i love you' but all I could do was grin like a fucking Cheshire cat. I love her!
At the merchandise stand, I bought a black Thunder Rats t-shirt and a Captain Maggot poster. That's all I was allowed to buy. I am so happy.
While in Montreal, my sister and I visited a few goth stores. We each bought a beautiful black and white dress that would be Lolita if it was shorter at a store called Cruella.
I am happy. Happy because I have my sister, I have Emilie Autumn, I have Lewis Carroll, I have Wonderland and dream-Alice. I don't feel sorry for the ones who claim to be 'depressed', whether you're diagnosed or not. It's your fault. There is always something to live for, something to hang on to, you just have to find it. I was stupid. I made mistakes. But now I know the right way to get things done. It's not cutting myself, it's not starving myself, and it's not rejecting emotions, rejecting people, rejecting everything so selfishly just so I can feel better. No, I'm not 'recovered'. I just found out about Wonderland. There's a line in Marilyn Manson's song 'The Last Day Of Earth' that sums it up pretty well... "when I found you, it was almost too late / and this earth seems obliviating" When I found Lewis Carroll, it WAS almost too late. I might very well be dead right now if it weren't for Wonderland. This earth was fucking obliviating, but then I realized I can reject this earth, this reality, for something better. But that's personal, so never mind...

Thursday, February 10, 2011


Well, I tried weed for the first time today. Smoked it off of a fucking SAFETY PIN. What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Well, hopefully we'll have cigarettes tomorrow and he won't be in detention. I was late for math because of it... I have all my classes with my sister though, so it's okay... And he said he might have acid for us on Thursday (when we come back from Montreal). Much more excited about that.

Drugs, they are made in California

yeah, anyway... Well, there's nothing else to say. I'm glad I decided to try drugs while I'm still under 15. Wonderful. I need to try acid before I turn 15 next month. Yes...

Monday, February 7, 2011


Science Technology Art English Math is my shedule
last term there was this guy in my phys ed class who walked up to my sister and I and asked if we did drugs. We said yes, to see what he would say. He asked us what kind, we said marijuana. He said he could get us some drugs and we didn't respond. In January we had our gym exam and he asked us again if we did drugs, we said only on the weekend, he again offered to get us some drugs. He said acid was his favourite and that he would sell it to us. Now gym is over, but he's in my art class and he again offered to sell us drugs, this time we accepted, said we'd buy acid. The net day he found out we really didn't do drugs and said acid wasn't a good idea for our first time and we should try marijuana instead. He's hilarious. On the first day of school, my sister and I saw him and named him The Loner, but that proved unfitting when he talked to someone in gym class. Oh well. We didn't think he'd try to sell us drugs.

I am going to go to Wonderland on May 4, Alice's birthday. Lewis Carroll, oh how I love him. I'm reading his complete works at the moment and it makes me so happy. His story Bruno's Revenge already gave us the Key to Wonderland. What a lovely man, I wish he would have written letters to me when I was a child. Yes, I am going to Wonderland. WONDERLAND! I'll be just like sweet little Alice, my queen, my goddess, the dream-Alice!

And on top of that I'm going to an Emilie Autumn concert. I couldn't be more excited. Well I probably could but I'm a little stressed out right now about my schedule.

I saw a dietician, I can go vegan, eventually

my favourite song is Haifisch by Rammstein. Beauiful!! Depressing, wonderful, perfect, death!

I can't wait to go to Wonderland

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Let them condemn

I haven't cut this much in about half a year. It feels good. I feel good. Nobody can change that. I will never feel bad, terrible, horrible ever in my life because I... Will get my revenge. I fucking swear. The quote that got me through the day is from Otep's song Crooked Spoons. 'Crooked spoons on every wall, genocide lines the hall, ten guage needles and a prayer, smearing sin everywhere.' i've been repeating it over and over and over again. Otep is amazing... You will know me by the scars I bear, you will know me by the hate I swear...

My favourite song by her is Milk of Regret, at the moment. The second song I heard of theirs... I just can't forget the blood, the stitches, the bite marks, the kisses... The glass memories reflecting back. I was so naive, I refuses to feed, waiting for you to notice me...

I am so sick
sick of this
sick of life
sick of you
sick of lies
sick of myself
sick of being sick
I had just come out of my fucking goddamn depressive state and now here I fucking am again. With the fucking scars to fucking prove I was fucking here.
BUT I don't feel horrible because I will never feel that way again. I feel great. I like the depression. It's better than you'll ever be. It keeps me company on the worst days of my life, when nobody else will.

Group therapy for girls who are depressed, mutilating themselves, and suicidal. I might be going to it. But I have social anxiety so maybe not.

Depression is the most wonderful mental illness ever so fuck you

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Don't you hate it when your guidance counsellor sends you to the hospital? I do. But it's fine now since I'm gone. I still have my bracelet on (the one they give the patients). D0293179 DE028432/10

I'm so low. But I'm not LOW, just low. A while ago I was LOW, but the feeling has past and I am in despair. My spirits are rising and my thoughts are no longer revolving around death and suicide. Oh but I'm getting a rat. I'm not allowed but I'll do it anyway and hide it.

I hate Marilyn Manson right now. I even kind of hate Emilie Autumn and that's not normal... It's not the MOOD I'm in that's causing it, but I don't know what is... Oh well. The psychiatrist at the hospital, the first thing she asked was if I like girls or boys or both (what my sexual orientation is). I said no to all of them...

But I still love Aprella and I dearly hope she will be on the NA tour. And Maggot and Contessa and Veronica and I love Emilie again too. Still hate Manson.

I thought I knew you, my sweetest cyanide... I thought I had you believe in nothing... I thought I knew you, my teenage suicide... I thought I had you believe in nothing

I'm happy. Not really. Just... Not happy, not sad, not apathetic. I don't know

I used to hate people who starve themselves. You know what, I still do. But I hate everybody

going to the early psychosis program soon, very anxious about that. I don't want to go. Especially if it's GROUP THERAPY, that would suck. I'd feel so fucking bad. Oh well, I'll survive, I guess. Strive to survive

I really need to die soon