i'm angry. i'm tired. i'm fed up. again and again, this happens. everytime something like this happens the first thought that runs through my mind is "how can i inflict harm this time??" what's disturbing about this is that it makes me feel better to think about the different things i can do. it actually feels good. i bet it'd feel great to actually do it. do i really hate myself that much?

i always think back to what my mom's always asked me, "do you really hate yourself that much?" the answer is, i really don't know. my therapist asks me "what did you ever do to make yourself hate yourself so much?"

if i could only make a list. if i could make a list of all the awful things, i think only then i'd be okay.

i remember right before my senior prom, my aunt gave me 100 to buy a dress. she gave them to me in a card, and i had gone over to her house to thank her. she then started naming off qualities she believed i had. i started crying. i felt awful. i wanted to die right there and then. wanted to scratch out my eyes and shove a knife through my ear, anything to stop the noise. thinking about it right now, i'm thinking of awful violence, and again, it soothes me.

i don't want to be close to anyone. they all end up hurting me. what the fuck did i do to them? where did i hurt them? what did i do to deserve this violence from them?

there are some memories that are replayed in my mind, again and again. one of them was a time when i was elementary school... i couldn't have been older than 9. maybe i was still in pre-school... i don't know. i remember i had done really well in school, really really well. to celebrate, my parents had taken me to toys r us and let me choose any toy to buy. i was so happy. i chose a barbie necklace that had water and glitter in it. i was so happy. i remember i was still living in the apartments, and i remember there was a fence and on the other side there was another apartment complex. anyways, i had gone out, it was dark out, and there were two older girls that had asked me about my necklace. the asked to see it, i let them. then they said they threw it over... i wanted to go inside, but not without the necklace. i asked again or something, and they kept insisting that they had thrown it over the fence and that i had to look for it. i went inside and my parents had asked about the necklace and i told them. my dad and i went out with his flashlight to look for it... nothing.

i still remember that. i don't know if i'll ever forget it.

i remember another time when i was at my grandma's and i was sitting next to my cousin and he poked my side and said "i thought you were supposed to be skinny" i guess i had a muffin top. this was when i was in third grade, i'm pretty sure i was.

i remember another time when i was in seventh or eighth grade, a friend of mine looked at me and said "wow, you're chunky".

i think if i were to make a list of memories that have stayed with me the longest, i'm sure i'd find the root of my mmm self hatred. or something.

i still fantasize making horizontal cuts on my arm and a vertical cut... and peeling the skin right off. i think of the sound the ripping flesh will make. it makes me feel better. i don't know why. thinking about blood always makes me feel better. that and pinching skin i guess. watching the skin break, seeing the blood flood over.

i would like to love myself one day. don't know when that'll happen but i really would like to love myself.

i feel like things would be easier if i were single... not dating someone. less pain. i don't think i've allowed anyone to hurt me this long. i'm a very defensive person, incredibly defensive. hurt me once and that's it. try to confront me about it, i'll just see that as an opportunity to get even. it feels good. i like making people cry. it feels good to know i have that kind of ... mm not power but that influence or push or something. it feels really good. i guess that's why i've chosen to date the guys i have. it's like some kind of mission at first, get them to fall in love. after that, i don't care anymore. it's like a game. it's easy to call it off. no regret after. i scare people, and myself sometimes.

with this guy, i don't know.

sometimes i feel like things are great, like he can read my thoughts. i feel so in-tune with him, it scares me. i feel so complete, like everything else i'm facing doesn't matter anymore. like i can just run away. i feel like everything's okay. i really can live in that one moment.

unfortunately, this moment, this ecstasis is never a result of dialogue. in fact, it's with dialogue where i feel lost. we don't exchange words. it's all light and fluff. "pop-corn talk" as my friend would put it. as long as it's left right there, everything's fine.

i don't want that. that doesn't fill me. i feel hollow.

i'll mention this, or how i feel about that, or something awful that happened here and the reaction of course is always cold. not cold in the sense that he means ill, no, just in the sense that "i don't know how to react to that". does that make any sense?

i like challenges. he's been a challenge, he is a challenge. maybe that's why i stayed. but i want more. i want to talk. i want to connect. i need to connect. maybe that's why i stay? because if i ever do connect like i had those many years ago, i might almost die again. i don't want to die. i was so vulnerable. sad part is, if i ever saw him, i would probably die. i really would. i think a part of me still loves that person he was, but he's different now. i'm different now. i would have done anything for him.

what's good about this relationship. m. i'm fighting off boredom. i'm not lonely. i'm able to do things like go here and there for school or what have you. i really can't think of anything else. i wish he hadn't said he loved me. things would be so much easier.

why, after saying all of this, am i so jealous? this is what drove me to writing this entry. it was the intense jealousy that i'm experiencing. why. am i in denial? is there something more?

i like sex, i do. it's not the orgasm, he's never even made me orgasm. it's being so close to someone. it's having some cling on to me, and clinging on to someone. it's that. it's the breathing, the physical contact. for forty minutes, nothing outside the truck matters. for forty minutes i'm whole. for forty minutes i feel okay. why does it take sex to feel whole? i don't want it to be sex. i wish it would be conversation. something.

i'm so tired. i really am.

i'll never forget that. how could you do that to me? why would you ever do that? i've always tried to look after you, i've always shown you kindness. you left me. to starve really. how could you go in there and have your meal, knowing i was thirty feet away clinging on to my body, trembling out of both hunger and anguish. and after, expect everything to be okay? how could you ever do that. i can't forgive you for that, i haven't forgiven you for that.

and you did it again. i was starving. i was so hungry. and later on that night, you cut off the conversation. you expected everything to be okay? again? not only that.. you didn't even ask if things were okay. you just went on, nervously. fiddled with this or that. and when i tried to get close again, you were stone. did i ever even have a right to be hurt in this relationship??

it's always been me to bring up issues. you address them for a week and then you revert back to your behavior that drove me to all this. i can't be close to you. i don't want to date a child. i want to be able to talk, freely. i want to be close, i need to be close, but you push me away. i don't even want to touch you anymore out of fear of being pushed away. that fear shouldn't be there. i don't deserve to feel afraid. fuck you.

i'm so hurt and angry with you. there's a long list. i can write pages of all the awful things you've done. and i bet you're not even aware of a quarter of them. i've never complained whined or anything like that to you or to anyone. i've always, very calmly talked about a couple of things. just a few. really, just a few. but it's like you wont change unless you feel threatened. unless you're under the fire, then things change. then i'm asked about how i'm feeling, if i'm okay twice in ten minutes. why do you feel the need to wait? i don't want to learn anything from you. i don't want you as a teacher. i'm so angry with you right now. i've been angry.

i've put up with so much, i really have. to have to deal with you, and other crap, is this really necessary?

i'm living on an entirely different planet. if you had my worries, i'm sure you wouldn't be fucking around. you have no clue what i have to deal with. you don't know what it's like to go to school knowing that you won't be able to continue. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO STILL DEPEND ON SO MANY PEOPLE FOR LITTLE SHIT. YOU CAN'T IMAGINE HOW FRUSTRATING IT IS TO ASK PEOPLE OVER AND OVER FOR THIS FAVOR OR THAT. YOU DO NOT KNOW. YOU DO NOT KNOW. IF YOU KNEW, GOD IF YOU HAD A TASTE I'M SURE THINGS WOULD BE DIFFERENT.

but no. that's exactly what i thought you'd do. i should have seen that coming last week, but no, last week i had faith in you. i believed in you. i was stupid enough to hope.

i hate my body and myself because i can't live up to my standards. i hate myself because i know what i've done is wrong. i do so much violence to my body because I'M AWARE.

dear self,

you are pretentious, obnoxious, and cold. you're in denial. if i had a chance to hurt you, i would. if you ever decide to do something about your position, i'll be here to put you down. bring you back to earth. you have unrealistic expectations. you're not an optimistic person, just a dreamer. so lucid. you need to stop hating people. it's not their fault you're so fucked up. you're not god's gift to women or men. fuck you.

sincerely,

self

p.s. i hate you.

p.s.s. i don't know.