"haunted girl"

This picture here is an acrylic painting I painted when I was an eight grader (14y old). I painted this in school, at an art lesson, and I remember the teacher being so mesmerized, so impressed by this painting that she hung it up on the wall for weeks and weeks and asked all her seventh grade classes which feelings this painting radiates.

She later told me that the seventh graders had answered that this painting radiates sorrow.

I got the highest score for this painting, a pure 10 (out of 10) for it.

I still wonder why she gave me such a high score for it. Maybe she was impressed that a girl my age could comprehend such feelings and was able to transform them into a painting?
Hadn't she seen anything like this before? That would be weird, I mean, feeling like the worst piece of shit ever is not that unusual for teenagers. Hadn't just anyone communicated these feelings into the outer world?

Was the 10 on a paper her way of saying: "It's gonna be okay"?

Or was her grading just an objective fact that I was a skilled painter?

What I love

I love love love writing! This is one of the things I know I am good at

Ever since I was a little girl I have written stuff. But they've always been gory, the things I've written. The first story ever I wrote om Word that I remember of was about a boy and a girl and a dragon, and then the police wanted to kill the dragon. I was like what, six years old? I learned to read and write at four, so this wasn't a problem.

You know, when writing you're confirming stuff for yourself. You can do anything to your characters, or rather, the characters can do anything you wish them to do. And the feeling I get when creating, when writing is pure magic. It really is.

Right now I'm writing a script about a girl who becomes obsessed with the thought of becoming immortal by dying a specific death. Creepy stuff. Good stuff. I love writing.

aaaaaahh

I hate having winter depression. Or whatever this is to be called. I hate Januaries and Februaries, because according to statistics, this is the third January and February I want to skip because the inside of me is dying.


I have almost no energy left. I feel anger, and all my energy goes to being angry. I was close to freak out at my work and I felt the need to be silent, because else I would've hurt someone.

I am so tired. Of everything. Of people. Of waking up. Of DOING STUFF. Of going to school.

And yet I do all of those things without whining. I smile to people and talk with respect, even when the inside of me want to strangle that person. I wouldn't ever skip a lesson because I'm tired. I wouldn't skip my job or my pony or anything because I'm tired. I have a good discipline on myself.

Like when I was 16-18 I never EVER let myself sleep for a second efter the first and only alarm sounded.

Discipline. Discipline yourself. Don't freak out. Don't be a freak. Don't let them know.

Accept this. Accept yourself in silence. Be silent. Don't shout at them. Don't shout at yourself. Don't harm yourself. Don't sleep. Or sleep. I don't want to sleep more than necessary. Sorry, wrong brain.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Cry. In silence. Don't let them know. This is a secret. Between us. Who? The ghost of my brain, and I. We. We are one.

Talk. Talk to them. Tell them. I know.

Transgressive

There is this social scientific term called "transgression" or "being transgressive". I have not heard of this term outside of school, and there only once.

Being transgressive means that a girl uses boyish and manly coded features and way when behavning. This is not about being trans or even about gender identity, but a girl that chooses to be more manly to get attention or to get a particular social input-output.

I think I am transgressive in some way.

I have used manly coded behaviour since I was a little child. I always wanted to play boys when we played in kindergarten and daycare and I played a lot with boys toys. That I had a 1,5 year older brother might have a reason in this ofc. I was in my most boyish period when I was twelve, and I dressed up in boys clothes sometimes.

When I turned thirteen I changed the baggy jeans to miniskirts and leggings but the behaviour stayed. I was very aggressive and fysically assaulted another student during that year. Typical boyish behaviour when not feeling good inside.

Yesterday someone said "This role is perfect for X (me), she's so aggressive".

And the truth is, I love hearing someone else call me aggressive, or angry. And it's so weird, so wrong. Wrong being an aggressive girl. Wrong being proud of being the way you are. Wrong wrong wrong.

I am wrong.

It's getting worse

It's getting worse. I am getting worse.

Now, I have lots and lots of things I am happy about in my life and I love and cherish a lot of stuff going on but it's like... I can't handle all of the things in my life.

I get so stressed even thinking about some stuff, I get anxiety and "crying attacks" whatever the fuck they're called.

My biggest fear is that, one day, I will develope something worse. Like what if this stress will cause a psychosis or schizofrenia. None of my relatives have had any bad mental illness ever so it's unlikely it's in my genes but I'm still afraid. That one day I will wake up at a mental insitution and wonder why I'm there and I realize it's june and months have passed since I remember anything and I get to know how I hurted myself and others in a psychosis.

I have no lust to harm myself, which is good. I'm just scared I will get suicidal again. Today I felt a little tingle, a voice in my head saying "you won't make it". I pushed it away, as I always do.

But the feeling of dying under this pressure I feel is following me today. Strangling me. Drowning me.

Acting usually helps. It always has helped, because in the state "of being someone else" I get to have a dialoge with myself (it sounds really weird I know) and it kind of confirms my feelings and I feel more secure.

I really really really really wish I won't get suicidal. I don't want to look outside the window and thinking about if I would die immediatly or if I would just break my body if I jumped.

Hurrr.

I don't want to write this stupid blog either. Because it also confirms that I'm not like everyone else. But right now it feels like the only way. I am so bad at talking about myself and what I truly feel to others. My mouth gets dry, my heart starts to race, I feel like crying/cry, I feel like a stranger in myself when even trying to opening about it. I simply can't. Three times have I done it, the first time at age 18 and then I broke down in the middle of school crying and crying and the second time I had to whisper it to even get it out and the third time I cried and cried.

Wish me good luck.

Pouring a life into the internet

The last few weeks I noticed that being on tumblr (a website similar to any social media, but for a very weird reason social outcasts seem to gather there. It's used as a platform for ranting, fashion, artwork, FANDOMS, and nice feeds) has become boring.

There was always the same like four people out of the group of 40 I follow that posted anything like ever. So I went and checked upon the list of people I follow

and I felt a big black clod in my chest. Kinda the anxiety you get when you realize things are not the way they used to be, or the way you remember it.

Out of a group of 40 waay over half of them hadn't uploaded any content in over a YEAR. Why hadn't I realized that? That they were gone from the website?

And the worst part was that I don't even remember the feeling of seeing their content on my dashboard anymore. I don't remember who they are or were.

And here I am, feeling stuck in some kind of forever wishing 2013 would repeat itself because then, back then being on tumblr was similar to being alive, everyone was active and shared stuff and we all hyped the same fandoms and aaarghh it was so FUN!

That's five years ago. FIVE. I turned eighteen five years ago. I was in love with a guy who saw nothing but a friend in me, and I had no true friends in my own school, and that was maybe the reason why tumblr was so fun. Because I felt uncomfortable in my own skin (or with my own person I guess) and having this platform, this escape from the real world was something I so badly needed.

Now I could say the situation is different, I have true friends, a fiancé (!!!) a future, and I spend most of my time outside of the escape. Maybe that is why it's more boring to log in on tumblr?

Would I truly want 2013 to repeat itself? No. It was such a draining year and yes, I BELIEVED 2013 was a good year. Because everything had been shit, and thinking back, 2013 was shit as well.

I don't wish to anyone that they'd feel so lost and hated in real life that they'd rather pour their life into the internet, because you will always find people like you on the internet.

Failure

Two days ago I gave up on this one project. I just couldn't do it, I cried for an hour and told them I quit.

Today one of my friends there messaged me and told me he was dissapointed in me.

Dissapointed.
DISSAFUCKINGPOINTED!

And now... I guess I will never get rid of that. It's like a fucking leech on my shoulder, always there, telling me how fucking bad I am at keeping myself together.


Failure.

Hopefully I'll get help to manage this project. Oh well