What The Hell, Emotions?

I hate my therapist. I don’t know why; he’s done nothing wrong. I just can’t be near him without being filled with rage and resentment. It’s a recent development, too. Funnily enough, these are the first true emotions I’ve been able to identify in so long. Should I tell him?

Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

I’m tired of this world.
I’m sick of this body.
I’m sick IN this body.
I hate people.
All I want is to be nasty.
To give up and give in to violent self-destruction.
To give in to primal desire.
And destroy everything in sight.

It Was A LONG Month

Where to start? The head-first dive into depression? Breaking edge? The broken promise? Sleepless nights? The spiders and all the beetles? My stupid, harpy of a stepmother? My bratty little half brother?

The beginning might be a good place. The drive down wasn’t that bad. Took us 3 and a half days.

We (me, dad, and Vern) got to our summer house late afternoon. It wasn’t more than 4 hours later my brothers Andy and Chris show up with Andy’s girlfriend Jen. They talked our ears off. Then Chris stayed the night. Me and Chris stayed up till 4am talking. We talked about our anxiety, my depression, cutting. He made me promise to stop cutting. Fuck him. He promised me he’d talk to dad about my anxiety and depression so dad would get me to a therapist and on medication. Fuck Chris because he never did a damn thing! Fuck Chris cuz he was so drunk he couldn’t remember a fucking thing. Why the fuck should I honour the promise I made to him if he didn’t honour the promises he made to me? There were other promises, but this one burns the most.

I felt like shit most of the month. I got so depressed at times I wanted to die, or something to distract me from my misery. I wanted to cut so bad, but I thought Chris would pull through with his promises so I didn’t. It was this depression that lead me to breaking edge.

I was invited to stay the night over at Chris’s apartment for the night. Yup. This is where I break edge. I was invited because I was miserable at the family reunion earlier that day. My aunt Sherrie thought it’d be a good idea. Sherrie, Chris, Andy, and my cousin Matt all live in the same area (actually Chris and Andy live in the same apartment building and Sherrie and Matt live in the apartment across from Chris and Andy). Plus, my cousin Amanda was visiting Sherrie (her mother) with her two kids. Amanda and Chris picked me up from North Tay, that’s where the summer house is, and then we went to Sherrie and Matt’s apartment. When we got there, Sherrie was already smashed. It was both sad and hilarious at the same time. We (me, Chris, Matt, Amanda and my cousin Andrew) watched her down a wine glass of gin and orange juice. We laughed as her words got so slurred and as she stumbled around. Then, Sherrie tried to tell me that I didn’t have to drink any beer and stuff like that. She was so far gone. After that, She went to the liquor store with Andy to get more booze. It was after she left that Chris offered me a beer and Matt handed it to me. I WAS going to refuse. For some reason, I couldn’t refuse. Maybe it was because I wanted to drink with them. May be it was my tiny crush on Matt that made me take the beer. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any fucking spine and I felt so much pressure. Anyways, it escalated from there. We went outside and drank more. Went to my cousin Kelly’s party. Drank more there. Nearly passed out on some boy’s bed. Disgusting, isn’t it? I’d love to blame this event on someone, but I know I’m the one at fault. I didn’t have to accept the beer. I could have said no. But I didn’t. SInce then I have been switching between self-pity and self-loathing.

I had lots of nights where I couldn’t sleep. A couple of them were energy drink-induced I know. The rest of them, however, I have no clue what cause was.

Stupid harpy bitch, aka my stepmother Mary Anne, was nothing but bitch bitch bitch, whine whine whine, kvetch kvetch kvetch when she arrived several days later.

And my little brother Vern was horrible. I can’t even express how he acted. The effort of finding the right words is folding my brain into an origami swan.

Lastly, the bugs that resided in that house. It’s like oh em gee! Look at all the spiders and beetles! I killed at least 20 bugs in all. Spiders: I hate them. Especially the one I nick-named Indianna Jones before killing it, as it decided swinging across my room was a novel idea. I didn’t actually mind Indy at first because he was pretty ninja. He managed to get across my room without me noticing and I was looking out for him like a hawk. But Then he had to swing over my bed like the real Indy in Raiders of the Lost Arc. It was lights out for him.

It’s Almost That Time Of Year Again…

I hate family vacations. Why? They always involve going to New Brunswick and no internet for a month. It also, unfortunately, includes me losing some sanity and becoming suicidal. It’s a nice place to visit for a week or two, but a month? No.

First off, I will be packed into a fully loaded minivan, driven across the country during a 4 or 5 day period, and be forced to eat foods that are not entirely vegetarian-friendly. Secondly, I will have to stay in a house that has been standing in isolation for roughly 200 years. Old houses are not as romantic as they are made out to be. Also, this house has the most hideous wallpaper. Come on! Light pink roses against forest green. *vomit* Thirdly, I will have to stay in Andy’s old room to better preserve my sanity because my room there makes me break down. Fourthly, I will be driven into a minor state of insanity. Fifthly, SPIDERS THE SIZE OF TOONIES. I shall take pictures with my camera to show the world these monstrosities. And the fact that there’s A HUGE FUCKING NEST OF THEM OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. Sixthly, NO INTERWEBS!!!! I shall suffer… Lastly, I will be packed into the van again for a week long trip back. There I will be picking up the pieces of my mind and duct taping them together.

The only thing to look forward to is seeing Andy, Chris, Matt F *swoon*, and Emily. Also, the rest of the cousins, relatives, ect. Why are most of my relatives in New Brunswick? And all-too-soon, it will only be me and Ben living out here in Alberta. Mary Anne and dad are moving back to NB in a bout 5 years.

Speaking of leaving, why do all the people I care about or admire leave me? I find these awesome people, but I never know them for long. It’s cruel.

You Only Call Me Melissa When You’re Drunk

I hate it when he drinks. I really do. He acts like he knows everything. It’s the only time he gets real sociable. It’s pretty much the only time he talks to me. I get so depressed. People wonder why I hate my father. I just can’t stand him.

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Now playing: Angels & Airwaves – The Adventure
via FoxyTunes

Pathetic, Just Pathetic

Everyone, get your iPod, find your favorite song to dance to, and then dance. Tis what I’m doing between typing. You know why? They’re [my parents] finally figuring out that I despise them! *dancing to The Killing Lights* Thought I’d have to spell it out. I’m so relieved. Pent up hate is bad. *now dancing to This Celluloid Dream*

That reminds me, This Celluloid Dream, of my current dreams. I’ve been having these really nice dreams where I own a coffee shop (a cafe for other people) and I’m a waitress there. It seems really nice because even though I’m the only employee, there’s not a whole lot of customers. *grin* But the customers who do come in are pretty famous (most of the time). My favorite person who’s gone there is Jeph Howard. Nice guy to talk to, even if it is only in my dreams.