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

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