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

Sunday, November 14, 2010

They said that hell's not hot

Psychiatrist increased my dose of Abilify because I'm still psychotic. Going to go to the Early Psychosis Program on Thursday with asshole doctor who thinks all your problems will be solved if you get a boyfriend. Boys are disgusting, vile creatures, I don't want to go near one. Lovely!2&/

I don't fucking care. Everybody sucks. Losers.

45 calories a day. 35 calorie yogurt. 10 calorie salad. No MORE than 95 a day. Because I am HAPPY. No, because I need to lose weight. No shit. Oh and exercise 3 hours a day. It sucks that after ten minutes you start burning less calories. Fucking gym teacher, I'd be happier not knowing that. Oh well, hula hooping burns 60-80 calories in 10 minutes and I need to get better at it, so fuck

today, everybody died in my world

I am alone, so alone...

My therapist was born on HaLOWEen. I died on Halloween... Sunday is gloomy... I do it better in smaller amounts, thank you very much

my dearest Marilyn is ALIVE. She's a beautiful porcelain doll of mine, and she moves on her own. I love her. All my dolls are alive, they fell down in the night once and I freaked out and... Rats, I want rats. But my mom won't let me.

I love life!!! So beautiful and amazing and WONDERFUL. Not really, but life can be okay. Emilie Autumn is so sexy. I can't wait for February 15. If I were 18, I could make out with Veronica Varlow... Maybe with my mask I will look older. Corona Theatre Montreal Quebec plague rat soup

funny how things change.

Suicide, dead inside... Overdose, comatose... I don't know the lyrics... Suicide Commando! I cried for you.

I can't stop shaking... Wake up and stop shaking cause your just wasting time... But I can't... You probably could... No I couldn't... Shut UP

wonderland, I found WONDERLAND!!! Fuck yes

I kill myself in small amounts, we all do... We're all dying... Nobody dies of old age. Marilyn Manson agreed with me... I bet he wants to fuck Emilie Autumn... Who doesn't? But he's a loser. Emilie is so much better.

It was NOT a phase!!!! Fuck

fisk worn Alene DNA ANSI she ska

I'm going to go kill myself again

Sunday, November 7, 2010

We'll say that we don't believe...

I had a dream (this one I feel the need to mention), I was happy for a while and I stopped being scared and ashamed to say what's on my mind... Wow...

I, Alice Nightningale, official inmate of the Wonderland Asylum for Curious Little Girls, am going to see the Headmistress of the Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls, Emilie Autumn, LIVE in Montreal on February 15, 2011 with my Blood Sister, who is ironically also named Alice. Fuck yes. It will certainly be nice to visit a different asylum for bit.

I became Blood Sisters with Alice on Halloween night. We cut our palms and mixed our blood. We plan to do this ritual every holiday and every full moon. We plan to kill ourselves together... Kind of. I'm thinking reenacting Emily (with a 'y') and Anne's suicide, jumping off a bridge together. Hopefully neither of us will be like Emily and survive. And why? Because we have no talents, nothing to live for. There's nothing we can do with our lives. Unless Emilie decides to take us in and make us Bloody Crumpets, or we get committed for life.

But enough of that. I have four elastics on my wrist, each named after poisons. The beige one snaps the best. He is named Cyanide. The purple one is Vitriol (as in 'spit vitriol, not swallow'). The blue one is Atropine, and the green one is Treacle.

A few weeks ago, I had a WONDERFUL tea party with Emilie Autumn and Marilyn Manson. Marilyn needs to learn to shut the fuck up, though. Emilie, on the other hand, was very sweet. Marilyn was rude and kept interrupting us and randomly started screaming when we began talking about something particularly interesting. Asshole.

So. I'll lose some weight before the EA concert. I already have a plan laid out.

I'm making gifts for EA and her Bloody Crumpets. I'm nearly finished Emilie's and it's beautiful. I'm working on Suffer's right now, and after that will be Lady Aprella.

Life is beautiful. Not really, life sucks but THAT'S OKAY. Because I'm going to see Emilie Autumn live on February 15, 2011.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

pretty dead doll

I'm going to miss two events that I really want to go to. And I was so disappointed that I decided... the only thing that could make up for missing them (and I refuse to say what they are, even to myself) is being stuck in a hospital, preferably the psychiatric kind. Sure, I must be pretty stupid to want such a thing, but at least I can admit it. So. I have a plan. Neither my psychiatrist or therapist will be here for the next 2-3 weeks, so my parents won't be able to contact them, and what else can they do but bring me to the hospital? Because I'm not going to eat or sleep and hardly talk until they put me somewhere. I'll lock myself in my room and talk to my imaginary friends and my dolls and ignore my parents annoying me all day long.

All of my dolls are kind of insane. They're in The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls, like me. Evelyn has psychotic depression (she always looks sad). Emily is bulimic (at first her bloomers kept falling down, now they stay up, which indicates something's wrong with her diet) and her parents didn't want her. Emily's little sister, Lola, is also unwanted. And Alyssa is bipolar (every time I look at her, she has a different expression) and a copycat anorexic (her bloomers fall down every ten seconds, but only after she realized Emily had a problem). Last night I sang a few songs to them and read them chapter one of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. They're eagerly awaiting chapter two tonight.


I'll admit, I've had a lifelong fear of dolls. When I was a child, I would only have Barbies and smaller dolls, but the collectible ones like the ones I have now terrified me. They still do, but only at night. The first night I had them with me, I had to face them away from me and keep turning on the light to see if they moved, and I was scared they would notice I'm afraid. I was certain they would kill me... I'm slowly improving, though. Watching scary doll videos on YouTube probably doesn't help. Like Robert the Doll. That was frightening...

In any case, my best friend and I are making a video with our dolls. We're almost done our first one, and we quite like it. It has the song Lullaby by Midnight Syndicate, which is very creepy (especially at the end), and once we're finished we'll put it on YouTube and nobody will care because nobody looks at homemade creepy doll videos. Except us. Eventually we might make a video with the song Haunted Nursery by Midnight Syndicate, also very creepy. Especially because of the baby crying, and I'm kind of scared of babies. It seems like a lot of people are afraid of dolls, my best friend and I included, but I don't seem to know anybody else who agrees.


And I'm pretty sure my antidepressants stopped working... My self-hatred is coming back, when awhile ago I didn't really care... But along with self-loathing comes determination, which I will use to my advantage and I will be as close to my version of perfect as I can possibly get, no matter the cost... I'm going to stop taking my antipsychotics. Sick of them. I kind of want to hallucinate, and if that's all that is fucking stopping me, then screw them. Medication is free here anyway (at least the ones given by your doctors) so it's not like anything's going to waste.

Oh. Yes. I pre-ordered The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls by Emilie Autumn. I've wanted that book for nearly a year and my parents wouldn't let me get it. And I'm almost glad I waited, because Emilie Autumn is going to sign every single copy shipped to North America. I'm so happy about that! I love her so much, she's so devoted to her muffins. It's going to ship in October...


And now my parents want to talk to me, which is never good news.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

razorbladekisses

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

RazorBladeKisses is one of my favourite bands. The fact that they're beautiful Gothic Lolitas make them even better. Their dark, haunting lyrics make them perfect to me. Their music is one of my sweet addictions. So is cutting. Which I've done a lot more of recently. And I got blood on my white nightdress last night. My mom hasn't found out yet. I can't get it off. Last night, when I found out there was blood on it, I freaked out and decided I had to cover my wounds with makeup. I knew that would be a bad idea, but I was desperate because I could not let her see how badly I was doing. So. I had to put a lot of foundation on my wounds. And it hurt so badly. Putting makeup on open wounds. Really fucking smart. If I didn't have an infection before, I probably do now. And I did it again this morning. And I didn't even need to show her my arms. What a waste of suffering.

Back onto the topic of addiction, I have another new one. A song. Strawberry Gashes by Jack Off Jill.

Watch me lose her
It's almost like losing myself
Give her my soul
And let them take somebody else
Get away from me
Watch me fault her
You're living like a disaster
She said, "Kill me faster"
With strawberry gashes all over, all over me


It's about a girl whose friend is a cutter. The girl cares a lot for her friend, and tries to get her to stop. She doesn't, and kills herself. This causes the girl to start cutting herself, too. The excerpt I put in was from the ending, which is why she says the strawberry gashes are all over herself. I love that song. I love Jessicka for creating it.

I've gotten into two physical fights in the past twenty-four hours. My anger and depression issues have gotten worse in the past week. I've been cutting for no reason, just because I feel like it. Not even because I want the pain, I just want to cut because... I don't know why. I just do. I get paranoid often, but I love it because it makes me capable of nothing but sitting in the darkness of my room listening to depressing music and cutting myself. I know how emo that makes me sound, but I don't care.

Oh, and I dyed my hair this past Saturday too. It's the darkest black you can get. It looks nice. When I dress up in full-out Kuro Lolita and put on some liquid eyeliner and red lipliner, I look like a gothic doll. Maybe one of those Living Dead Dolls. But better. I know, it's strange for a self-hater to compliment herself like that, but it's true. I guess I do have some self-confidence. It must be the Remeron.

I'm going to be just like Alice... only with a darker personality. I'm going to find Wonderland, I'll get through the looking glass. And I will never have to come back to this world again. I will be free. Because not only am I obsessed with Alice, but I believe Wonderland and the looking glass world to be real. Every fiction novel has a hint of truth to it. Dodgson may not have known these places existed when he wrote about them, but they are. I just have to find them.

Last night I cried for the first time in what feels like ages. Putting aside the brief moments of intense emotion, I've been completely apathetic. I think my best friend hates me because sometimes I ignore her completely and sometimes I snap at her. And my parents get pissed off at me every time I stop speaking. I think I do this when I'm feeling something, but I'm not sure what. Some sort of mixture of anger, sadness, and something else. I don't know. But it happens frequently.

My current goal is to lose 30 pounds by mid-November. Yes, that's giving me a long time. I could explain the reasons why, but it's boring. I never feel like eating, anyway. When I'm apathetic, I just don't care if I eat or not. And then during those bouts of anger and/or despair, all I want to do is lock myself in my room and cut and drink the blood and smile because of the lovely, beautiful pain. Except I don't drink my own blood. Not very often anyway. Only sometimes. I did it more when I was a child.

I think you're all crazy here
I think you're all crazy here
You should be locked away, my dear

Don't take me, don't take me home

Saturday, July 17, 2010

broken girl

Back from my vacation. Had a wonderful time. The concert was lovely. It hurt, but it was still by far the most fun I had in those two weeks. I was in the first row and people were suffocating me and pressing against me and hurting me but I loved it. And they played most of my favourite songs of theirs. And it was literally the first time I screamed since I was a child...

I want to die. And yet at the same time, I don't. haha, I feel so weird right now. Everything feels so funny... And you know what? I'm fucking sick of writing this. I want to keep my problems to myself. Nobody needs to know what's going on in my life. Nobody fucking cares. I seem like some self-centered bitch (which, when I think about it, I am) who just wants attention. I used to be so afraid of what other people thought of me. Now I don't give a shit (though sometimes my social anxiety kicks in again and makes me care, but that's a lot less often since I've been on medication). The weirdest thing is that I actually relied on this blog to make me feel... not better, but I don't know the word for it. When in reality, I end up feeling worse later for letting my problems out to the world. I've found that people suffering from depression live very isolated lives (obviously). They don't share much with anyone. I've been sharing too much. I'm depressed. I might as well be fucking good at it and fit the image of psychotic depression perfectly. Then I'd finally have a talent. And I'll be the best fucking depressed girl on the face of this planet.

If I'm going down
Then I'm going down good
If I'm going down
Then I'm going down clean

If I'm going down
Then I'm going down the prettiest broken girl that you've ever seen.

Friday, July 9, 2010

manipulate me if you can

My dad brought a laptop, so I was able to get on after all...



I'm practically glowing with happiness right now because today I went to the Chinatown in Calgary... No, not a big deal. But, there was an Asian entertainment store where I got two music DVDs, hide and X Japan. And then in some other store I bought a Death Note. Haha, so pathetic... And on the second floor... there was a store... (lots of pauses)... where I bought a pair of black socks with black lace and ribbons at the top. They're beautiful, and when I saw them I thought they would be perfect for lolita. Then I went to the store across from that one, and I saw lolita dresses! I was so shocked and happy at the same time, and the store owner saw me looking at them and helped me choose two (they were on sale for half price, brand name dresses for $80 each, so awesome) and she said a few things about lolita and explained how to make my own petticoat... So I bought a beautiful black dress with bows and lace and ruffles, and a another beautiful black dress with white lace trim. I was so happy, but there were two or three other dresses there that I wanted, haha... Maybe I'll convince my parents to let me go back... no, I don't think so... oh well... I'm still happy.

Yeah, so most of my trip has been good. Only one bad day so far, where I had a mental breakdown in the middle of a dinosaur museum in Drumheller. I climbed the Rocky Mountains, saw a dinner theatre about piano (which was hilarious), met my family, bought a lot of clothing (five dresses, a blouse, and some accessories), saw the parade for the opening of the Stampede (I was dying in the heat though) and at the parade saw a country lolita (not participating, though), and I have bad memory and can't remember anything else... Tomorrow I'm going to an antique mall, Sunday I'm going to the Stampede (hopefully for the whole day, but at least in the evening for the Grandstand Show), and I don't know after that. Oh, I saw the Body Works exhibit at the Science Centre... And I've been burning off most of the calories I consume. On Wednesday and Thursday I'll be staying at a hotel in Edmonton, hopefully I'll find a parasol there.

I also met my niece, who is about three months old... her name is Felicity. I used to hate babies, I thought they were creepy and extremely ugly. Recently, I've started to like them more... My family is really kind, polite, considerate, and talkative, which makes me feel so awkward around them, but I've tried so hard to sound normal. But I've been wearing Goth/GothLoli/CasualLoli clothing everyday so they already think I'm weird. Though I got a lot of compliments on my prince-style Gothic Lolita outfit. And today I smudged black eyeliner around my eyes so I look really tired and put a little bit of red lipliner around them so I look like I haven't slept in weeks. I've tried this makeup before, but never in public.

So, I've been wearing a lot of dresses lately, and though I always wear stockings, I'm more used to loose-fitting jeans, so I've been noticing the shape of my legs a bit more. And I've decided I don't mind my calves, but I hate everything above the knee. I hate my entire arms, I hate my stomach, and I hate my face... I think losing thirty pounds will be a start. And I'll go from there... Since I'm so obsessed with the lolita fashion, I've noticed that (obviously) fat girls look terrible in it, healthy weight girls look okay, underweight girls look beautiful, and severely underweight girls don't look so good, though it's probably just because the clothing isn't made to fit stick thin girls. Otherwise, they'd look fabulous... So I'm not setting a goal, I'm just going to lose weight until I'm happy.

While I was walking to the house I'm staying at today, I started singing Miss Lucy Had Some Leeches in a dramatic voice. My family was way behind me (I walk fast) so they didn't hear me, and people in cars saw my lips moving and probably thought I was singing along to my iPod, but it was actually turned off. And I got enough stares because of my dress and stockings anyway (mostly from little girls, but also random adults), so that was amusing. I love peoples' expressions when they see me. Mostly positive from adults (at least in lolita, not goth), mostly negative from youth...

So I don't know when my next post will be, but it's not like anybody cares anyway. I write this blog for my own amusement and well-being, anyway. I have two selves: the one I show to the public because of my social anxiety, and the one I'm able to express freely. Here, I can be myself. So that's why I write this...

Friday, July 2, 2010

let me in your dream

I'm so proud of myself right now!! My parents left to drop off our dog at my uncle's place, so I spent the time looking for something to cut with, since they found and took everything I had. First I tried to break a glass, but I couldn't smash it against the floor because my brother is still here, so I tried it outside, but the ground is too soft. So I gave up on that idea and went to look for pencil sharpeners I could take the razors out of. I started by scouring all of the middle floor, but couldn't find anything (though I did get a screw driver so I could take out the razor) but a mechanical one, which I had no idea how to take apart. I looked in the basement, nothing, I looked in my parents' room and found the calligraphy pen I used to cut with. I took that, and continued my search because it wasn't good enough. (Yeah, this is turning into a story, haha) I took the mechanical sharpener, and tried to get the razor out. I used multiple screw drivers, but the fucking thing wouldn't move. After spending over an hour trying to get it out, I was extremely pissed off and tried cutting myself with the calligraphy pen. Like I suspected, not good enough. I bled, but it dried instantly. So I looked back in the place where I found the mechanical one, and lo and behold, there was a double pencil sharpener. I removed both razors, and despite the fact that they're old and rusty, knew I could use them. I washed them off just in case they might give me an infection (I think I have one already, anyway), and hid everything in different places so my mom can't find all of them. I know I'm stupid not to find the thing I was looking for instantly, but it was fun, and I'm so happy now that I don't even need to cut.

So anyway, I'm going to Calgary tomorrow... I have two books to read on the plane, because it's two hours to Toronto, then four more to Calgary. The Looking Glass Wars and Goth Girl Rising (which I refused to read a few months ago because I couldn't find what I believe is the prequel, but it's not sold here so I just decided to buy it)... And I deleted all of Marilyn Manson's music from my iPod because I fucking despise him now... Before, I couldn't decide whether to love or hate him. Now I'm absolutely certain that it's hate. I hate everything he does, everything he represents. His music is good, but I don't care. He's not worth listening to. And one of his girlfriends got an abortion (his child) which pissed me off even more... And his song Get Your Gunn, I absolutely despise the lyrics. He talks about cutting as if everyone who does it is fucking emo, and is basically saying how stupid pro-life is. Well, not exactly, he's insulting the hypocritical ones who take away life when they say they promote it, but still.

But I digress... I couldn't do my fast because of my parents, but it's alright because I'm so happy right now and I know I can get my revenge on them very soon. My breakfast in Calgary will simply consist of tea and nothing else, and I'm sure I can have small servings for lunch and dinner, since my parents are used to me complaining about how I'm never hungry enough to finish things...

And I've recently fell in love with the Gothic Lolita band RazorBladeKisses. They only have one album, but their music is dark and enchanting, they look so amazing, and their lyrics aren't the best, but still good. And their video for Ballerina is simply lovely... Or maybe it's just that they're lovely... Whatever. I'm still rambling...

So I have to stay on Remeron for now, but that's alright because I will fucking show them, prove to them that I am not depressed, and they will regret ignoring me. My psychiatrist said that I might stay in a hospital (a good one, outside of my city) for a month or so to get re-evaluated since I'm absolutely certain that I'm not depressed, but we'll see later. I'm not certain, actually. Just maybe 85% sure. If I have a mood disorder, it's not a serious one. Maybe dysthymia or cyclothymia.

And I have to go now, so that's all the pointless things I'll be rambling about today. I don't think I'll be posting again until I'm back in two weeks, and I haven't read anyone's blogs in about a week so I'll have a lot of catching up to do. Haha, talk about being a self-centered bitch.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

they said that hell's not hot

I kill myself in small amounts
And each relationship is not about love
Just another funeral
And just another girl left in tears


So at my psychiatrist appointment, she gave me three choices for my medication. One, increase the Risperdal (antipsychotic which also tends to help mood and anxiety) I'm already taking... two, take an antidepressant from a different group (the last two I was on were from serotonin reuptake inhibitors) called Remeron... or three, take a drug used to treat bipolar depression, Lamictal. But when Lamictal is used on children, they tend to have bad side effects, like rashes and things like that. Since I am very indecisive and didn't know what to do, I got my father to decide. He decided to put me on Remeron. Now my parents hate me because I get into a huge fight with them every time they try to make me take my medication. I hope my psychiatrist takes me off of it again on my next appointment.

Since I have nothing left to cut myself with, I've started relying on choking... Instead of using my hands, I use a belt... Last night I looked in a mirror while doing it to see what it does, and I looked very sick... Eyes have closed and almost watering, red face... And now I'm hoping that if I do it enough, after a while I'll start getting scratches on my neck... Kind of odd to want to be scarred, isn't it? Well, not really odd, just kind of twisted.

As for food... I'm still paranoid whenever I eat, but I've still been having more than I would like. I'll try to think of some kind of plan I can follow without my parents getting suspicious of me. However, I'm going to start a fast tomorrow. It will end on July 3, which is when I'll be on vacation. There, I will eat no more than 500 calories a day. I'll be back on July 17, so that day I will start another fast. It will last until August 1.

Oh, and I deleted all my past posts to mark a new beginning where I won't screw up with anything and will lead as close to a perfect life as I can manage. Then again, I don't want the perfect life... But either way, I won't mess up this time. If I say I'll do something, then I will. I'll actually try to respect myself. At least, psychologically. Physically, I don't mind injuring myself.

I gave my soul to someone else
She must have known that it was already sold
But it was never about her
It was about the hurt