So Bricks Were Shat…

…Last night (actually this morning, 5am) when this gigantic fucker of a spider decided it would be awesome to pay me a visit. That previous spider from before? Ha! It was tiny compared to this one. I was going to spray it with Raid, but then it started heading my way and I ran upstairs to grab a ’swatter. A ’swatter that which I could not find! I go back downstairs and find that it has disappeared. I shut down my computer and then run back upstairs like the little girl I am. I was one step away from hysteria. No spider should ever get that big.

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.

Life As It Is

Well, school’s out on Friday. I have a two more exams to go. I’ll do okay on my math exam and so-so on my social exam. But still pass both.

Still have that spider problem. Killed a much smaller spider. That other spider got away after I snapped a pic of it and grabbed a fly swatter. Next time I see it though… it’s going to be one flat fucker.

As for my culinary arts practical exam… ACED!!! My dessert was the best bit out of my group’s 3-course meal. I kept being stopped by teachers who kept praising me. Also, smugly I must add, I got quite a few stares from my peers when my culinary teacher, Chef Len Hallowes, shook my hand and congratulated me on my awesome dessert. Chef Hallowes has always criticized our class for a lot of things and praise is actually quite rare. Shocks everyone when he shells out praise.

On a much darker note, I was being hit on by complete strangers this morning. Cat calls and whistles. Made me feel ill. They looked like they were part of my school’s ground maintainance crew from the way they were cruising around the school grounds in a white pickup.

An even darker note. Every once in a while, I look at my fading scars on my arm, the ones from when I tried to slit my wrists last September, and get the urge to replace them with more cuts. I swear, all I want to do is mutilate myself. Mutilate, starve, scar, pierce.

Also, I smother Americans with the Canadian flag. Not. But sometimes I want to. Right now I’m content enough to wave my Canadian flag in Americans’ faces.

Spiders. I Hates Them.

As you might’ve noticed in my last blog, I have a problem with spiders. Tarantulas are okay, but large, hairless spiders are NOT. Like the following which I found right beside me a few minutes ago:

These spiders are not cool. Especially when you’re positive that they’re making babies underneath your rug after you watched three different spiders of varying sizes take refuge in a certain corner of said rug:

I will not go near there. Will not, will not, will not. My skin is crawling. The fact that this corner is behind my desk doesn’t really help me. I can’t stop looking there with my flashlight. Scalp is crawling, crawling, crawling… Can’t relax.

ええ!何 ですか。

I stopped in PJ’s Pets today and saw that they had a pink-toed tarantula. I looked at it for 5 minutes. I decided I liked it. It was grey (no pink at all, not even the toes), small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, and very furry. AND I WASN’T AFRAID OF IT. That had to be the strangest thing ever. I’m seriously creeped out by those small, hairless spiders, but I could probably hold that tarantula I saw today and not care.

ZOMGZ!!!111!!! Cleaning My Room…. Voluntarily!!!

Sorry for the stupid title. But I AM cleaning my room. That is a miracle within itself. I should vacuum, too. Yet ANOTHER taboo in the sun-deprived world of Melissa/Saint Sorrows. Already it’s looking cleaner in here. Hahahaha! No pics, too bad for you.

Cleheheheeeener!!! Not done though. Well, I guess NOW. It’s the cleanest it’ll get. At least no bugs will take residence here, besides spiders. Spiders must exist in all of my rooms for some odd reason. In all of the rooms I’ve ever had, I’ve always had some weird experience that left me really freaked out. We won’t get into that.