Keep in mind... all of these paintings were done like 3 years ago. I'm much better now... but I don't have a camera to photograph my new work because I am too damn poor.
In sum. Since the onset.
I'm twenty years old, I'm female, and I'm nothing but an engineering major. My blood pressure is under the normal range usually, as long as I'm not crying. I used to live with my mom, but she's seriously schizophrenic and I really hate her, so I moved into an apartment for about three months. Then my condition worsened, so I moved in with my grandmother about a month, and that arrangement was ruined by my mother while I was living with my fiancee for about a month. Now I've been living with my father for two months.
I have headaches a lot. I don't drink a lot of water though I try to do it. Parts of my body go numb in the evening at times. I've experienced drastic personality changes in the past year. Sometimes, when a negative thought passes through my mind, I can have a full mental breakdown. I think that I want to disappear a lot, want to spontaneously get killed and wiped away. I wonder a lot if I were falling to my death, if I'd regret it in my last 5 seconds of living... and I usually think that I probably would not, except maybe saying the bittersweet "Goodbye" as though anyone would hear. I don't want anti-depressants, because I'm afraid of their side effects, and I'm afraid they won't do much for me... and I'll be trapped in that state of mediocrity via addiction. I used to see a therapistpsychiatrist, for maybe two months, but it didn't help... not even a little bit. Sometimes I try to push through and function and do well, but it only lasts one day, leaves me exhausted, and ends in failure anyway.
I took 60mg vyvanse last spring around mid-February. It worked. I had perfect grades and was happy-- for about two months. In eight months, it sent me to three very serious panic episodes, one I went to the hospital for, two I should have gone to the hospital for. These panic episodes were comprised of uncontrollable screaming, crying, shaking, tingling and numbness in my limbs, and extremely high blood pressure, fainting, hyperventilating, and more fun.
It usually made me have little panic episodes, like 90% of the time when I took it, and they would last all day. Eventually I stopped taking it, I went from straight A's to straight F's in the classes I was taking, I was constantly suicidal, constantly considering either jumping in front of cars, trains, or driving my own car into a pole or oncoming traffic. Most of the time, I would lay in bed all day and cry. All day.
I used to paint, I used to play French horn, but I quit because I thought it was maybe taking too much time from school. I feel guilty now.
I do not have any friends within 100 miles of me. I don't go out and do things. Most of the time, I sit in front of my computer, wishing someone would contact me, but they never do.
I have a fiancee. He lives in Atlanta. He bought me a cellphone awhile back. To be honest, we don't get along a lot like we used to. Like, when we're together for too long, all we do is fight. When we're apart I want him to talk to me and say something or do something to help me through my constant problems, but he never answers his phone. He rarely calls me himself. He can still talk about things he does. I can't blame him for not giving a damn. He always says he loves me, but for some reason, I don't believe him. Saying "I love you" is nothing, because guys who have cheated on me and talked behind my back and endangered my life said "I love you." Those words mean nothing to me, especially since he ALWAYS plays it off like he's too busy for me even though we don't talk anyway.
I cry probably 30% of the time when I have to do work or study. It always really bothers me, because it makes me feel very inadequate. I do my best and usually pull the lowest non-failing grade in the class, well below the average, while other students can sleep or skip the class and get an A. It really bothers me, and its happened with multiple people in multiple classes.
I usually cry uncontrollably when I get exams back. It ruins my whole day. I can't focus at that point.
I live with my dad. It's really annoying. He and his girlfriend are constantly "cleaning" for me, and then everything goes missing, including "personal items," and to be honest, it's an invasion of privacy and is also harassment to me. It really annoys me when Kim says she knows that I'm having my period, when I'm about to have it, knows when I have medication for things like a yeast infection, or for headaches. My dad constantly tells me I'm lazy and not a hard worker, and that I'm stupid compared to him, and how all of my problems aren't worth a shit compared to his.
I'm ashamed of myself. Even now as I type this, I'm crying horrendously.
I have the mind of an anorexic, and the body of an undisciplined person. On some days, I don't eat, simply because I hate myself. Some days I'll work out until I see flashing colors and can't stand up straight. Some days, I binge, and then I cry. I have to mentally avoid purging, because I don't want to somehow become bulimic. I have wanted to go to a gym for a long time, but I have no friends to go with me, and if I ever start to try to go myself, I can't. Because....
I have really bad social anxiety. I can't be in a large group of people I don't know for more then half an hour without sweating, getting a throbbing headache, blushing, heart palpitations, and eventually breaking down crying. I've tried to go to social events, hoping to cure SOMETHING somehow, but it always ends the same way. I feel alone in a crowd, I freak out, I leave. I hate talking to people in my classes. I feel like some of them make fun of me, and some of them plain don't like me because they can tell there's something wrong with me.
One thing that hurts me the most is when I feel like I've disappointed those I look up to. Example: Dr. Meyer. I have a class with him, and I always get 30% on his exams. I used to get perfect grades in his other classes, though it was hard for me, I always made it. I thought I was special, I thought I had a knack for learning things thoroughly and growing and solving logical problems. And now, I'm proving that I don't work hard enough. I want to work harder, but I just end up getting really stressed out and crying in the bathroom for two straight hours after his 1.25 hour class.
My blood pressure is normally lower than the average person's, but when I get one of these stress episodes, I sometimes get light nosebleeds. This has maybe happened three times, and it always happens at school.
If I were granted three wishes, they'd be these: One, I wish I could get along with people better and actually make friends and do social things like normal people. Two, I wish I could work hard without constantly crying, and I wish my work would pay off and send me to the top of the class again. Three, I wish that I were on the bottom of the rung of beautiful; I wish I were skinny and cute and unique looking, not a model or a beauty queen... just to be a little bit above average.
But maybe, I only need one wish.
The wish that my negative thoughts would go away. Forever.
You know what?
If I'm so batshit mediocre, then why the hell did you bastards advise me into this major in the first place?
/groan.
I really hate it when some bastard who literally sleeps through all of the classes scores higher than I do. I got really pissed and told him "You know, all of your good Karma was spent then and there... and you're going to get hit by a fucking tree when you step foot out of this building. Fuckin' dick."
Obviously, I've been held back my whole life due to mediocre expectations and a lax upbringing. But what the fuck should I care. I'm doing my best. And I'm never EVER going to let you fuck heads know that.
/shame.
Don't cry.
I should stop this bullshit and just take vyvanse again. It was the only time I got straight As and actually learned. Obviously, I need it. I don't care if I die while I'm on it. I don't care if I die.
I'm visiting the doctor. I'm not telling anyone I know personally. No one I know personally knows about this journal. I'm going to amp the dose up really high and snort the shit. Fuck you pharmacology. Maybe I'll be at least above average if I do that! ABOVE AVERAGE AND DEAD.
Why.
Am I already taking a practice MCAT? I don't even know if I want to go to grad school... but honestly... I probably should... at some point.... being a biomedical engineer and all. (No one listens to you unless you have a Ph.d...)
God damnit. I'm so sleepy. And miserable. I wish I had settled for mediocrity and gone to art school or into a simple Biotech thing... but no.. I just had to be a BMEngineer.
You don't even have a goddamn idea what it's like to be in this major.
- - - Kud
edit: Actually, I somewhat already have the personality of a grad student... because instead of studying for calculus, I whip out a book on biophysics and read it. Which brings me to my next point: I really want a kindle. :)
I called it. Calc III just started doing what we did in Theoretical Physics yesterday. I don't care what you say... the more math you have, the greater an advantage you have in Theoretical. I'm the middle of the road... but I'm not as disadvantaged as a few...
God I fucking blow at calculus. I always forget the idea behind proofs... which makes it harder to find many ways to make applications. Maybe I just have a shitty short term memory. I really wish I were better, but practice doesn't seem to do the trick for me... and there's just so much I need to pull out of my ass and consider while problem solving.
McGivern stabbed me in the side with a pencil during Chem today. It actually hurt, so I was like "OW," and it was actually really embarrassing because everyone turned and looked... and the prof asked if I was okay. No one saw why I was hurt.
I finally gave Dr. Meyer the polymer clay rubik's cube I made last semester. I was debating for a long time whether or not to give it to him. I don't want him to think I'm a faggottyass suckup, but I really think it suits him. So I gave it. At first, I just left it on his desk, and he was puzzled as to whose it was. I later explained that I had left it there. He seemed pleased with it. I think Meyer was working with all sorts of polymers when he was in the field... because a lot of his problems involve polymers... and he asked me what kind of polymer the cube was made of. I said I didn't know, only that it cures at a relatively low temperature of 275ºF... and he spouted off some polymer terminology and I just sort of nodded. He helps me greatly when it comes to his classes... but I have a lot of practice to do for this section.
Oho.
There's a nice goal for me. Learning systematically how to solve a rubik's cube. That's a nice hobby.
I'm currently sitting in Macs. I was doing my homework for EI and Chem lab, but I got really exhausted all of the sudden and sort of nauseated. I'm taking a break because I've gone non-stop since 8am. I sorta am in love with EI because I seem to score near perfect on the lab reports... and perfect scores don't happen for me anymore these days (college).
The roads are scary today. So snowy and shitty.
I'm thinking about doing an artist table at CCon. My friend Gibbs is apparently one of their staff monkeys. I'll see how cheap I can make it for me... to maximize my profit of course. Ray wants to go with me too. Sounds like fun... indoor waterpark... exploiting weeaboos... reunion-ing with a (relatively) useless network of people that I am part of...
I really, really don't like certain people... when I don't like people, I find that I make fun of them to their faces in such an underhanded way, that it's a quite brutal and confusing to them. I mean, who the fuck does that one bitch think she is? I don't even know her, yet the moment my dumbass ex becomes her dumbass ex, she comes running to me to dig up shit on me? No, fuck you bitch, I'll just embarrass you, so gtfo. I know what she's trying to do. It's immature, but amusing to me in a twisted way.
I've dropped shitfucktons of names in this entry. I'm a faggotty hipster for school.
In other news, the new stat is: 12.5 pounds gone. 27.5 to go. Not bad. Not bad at all...
I went to the walmart in some big modern city with Grandma and Amber. Then, it was evacuated with an alarm because it was perhaps collapsing. Store personnel tried to keep us there.
When I got to my car, I got on, and in on the other side, this fucking little old lady was going through my glovebox.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing." I grab her by the wrist and call the police. Obviously, she was trying to mug my shit. The police never came. I got her a job at a hamburger stand. I told her that if I ever catch her around during the day and that she's not working every day, I'll gut her like a kipper.
Just like prison. Except it serves her right and actually helps her.
::
2010 27 January :: 5.36 am
:: Mood: distracted
:: Music: The Clinquot - Beirut
I woke up at 4am today.
To study for my calculus exam.
But I don't feel like it.
I don't understand. All I ate yesterday was fiber cereal (topping out at 60 calories) and salad with things like chickpeas, egg whites, sunflower seeds, olives... no cheese. No horrid fatty dressing.
And yet I gained 1.5 pounds.
The day before that, I binged out on cereal, a full chicken breast, a salad, tons of vegetables, carrots, jello, and snacked on shredded wheat for forever, and lost 1 pound.
Dieting surely is a mysterious thing. I think I'll just eat what I want today, seeing that it's literally impossible to lose weight. My body defies the whole calorie deficit thing.
She made me cry harder and spiral deeper than any love has ever done to me. That is to say, she didn't intend to "make" me do anything, but she did.
She was the only one I willingly came back to, really. Consciously. Clearly. Certainly.
Most tell me not to dwell on the past and to move on and not be like this. I feel like I'm in the desert still though, being led by something that is probably a mirage.
It's a drive I don't have control over. Even not being totally cut off from her has somehow made me happier. She doesn't even care.
Luckily, I can sit here in my own little world, knowing things aren't shattered entirely, and that feels good.
A new definition to: well, well, well, you never can tell...
You know.
Maybe it's good that I'm weird looking. A little ugly. A little chubby. Not the fucking spitting image of perfection and beauty.
I like that people are intimidated by me. Take me seriously. Don't chase me for a lay too often, that shit is annoying. People respect me in a manner that childish crushing boys can't fathom. I like that males swallow their pride and come to me for advice and help. I like being a nerd girl who has pink hair and wears hyper-realistic rubber shimps in her hair.
Aside of that, I've found a deep love. He's fascinated with what is me and my unique form. He is not amused by conventional views on beauty; in fact, he despises it. He defines what is attractive in his own head, and I just so happen to be all that. I'm grateful. I don't need anyone else to look at me. He's mature enough to love me the RIGHT way.
Thank god.
...
but still... I'm going to keep trying to look my best for him. Heh.
Living a Lie
Sometimes, there are these morons who drag their religion into political debates. These people make me want to go anti-Christ... because from what I see, Christianity is for morons... and I'm not a moron.
People are stupid.
It depresses me.
I feel lonely.
::
2010 19 January :: 7.37 am
:: Mood: tired dog
:: Music: Dare - Gorillaz
Where is left?
I think I'm getting really screwed up. Yesterday, there was this band banquet at school. I essentially did the following in 10 or 15 minutes: walked in, stood for a bit, said "hi" to friends I actually cared about, pretended I forgot it was formal (when in reality, I just don't own any formal clothes), sat essentially alone at a half-full table, stared through them and sipped my water, skimmed the pamphlet and realized they had forgotten to print my name in there, sipped my water more while exponentially getting more anxious and upset, and finally just slipped out of the place with an uncomfortable expression on my face that I hope was being read as "I'm going to the bathroom". Really, I just left without a trace. I walked in the snow and cried for awhile. Then I went to my car and cried for awhile.
I went home and had a headache all night since then. Got no work done.
I wish this anxiety would go away already. Whether I'm with people or not, I always get really screwy at times...
In other news, I fell for Ray again this past weekend. We stuffed our faces with sushi and went on walks mostly. We also came up with these really kickass icecream stuffed fortune cookies. All I remember is how well I could feel him... his face, his neck, his chest, his spine, his biceps... I can feel all over him. Blindfold me. I would be able to tell you which one was him out of thousands of men. I swear to god that his ribcage is keeping my heart hostage... because I love his form. I can tell his saliva apart from mine... I can tell all of our fluids apart. He's so much slipperier and gooier. I can feel his shape with any part of me. I can feel him touch every nerve, and I know which nerve...
...
Raymond. Don't go. You can make me feel however you want to. Even a year in, you can make me get the sensation of just meeting you and falling in love with you. The sun shines in the bedroom when we play, and the raining always starts when you go away.
I've been through many others. Don't tell me this could happen again. From experience, I know it couldn't. I just know it.
Heh. I was cruel and selfish... to take you so soon... all for myself. I hope you like that though... <3
All I have to say is that in the past few months I haven't gotten any better. I need to try harder... if that's even possible.
...
/facepalm.
I'm doomed. His legs are longer than a strip of buildings... and I am merely burning rubble in his street. The rain comes. I wash away no matter how sticky I try to be.
Honestly. I've done this already and the only way it ever got better was to leave the whole thing behind. I'm older and more experienced, but I'm weaker and not even the same person.
I need to get angry again. Like I used to be. I should ditch my sentimental Ray-supplied library and fill up my waves with Megadeth and such metal things again.
Enough of this heart skipping a beat when "Venus" suddenly turns on. Enough of my heart sinking like mesh when he pulls from an embrace. Enough pain in my chest and crying when he obsesses over something for a zillion hours that isn't me.
Fuck that shit. I've already done it and it teaches you nothing.
I've gotta stay true to who I was. Angry. Aggressive. Ass-kicky.
I don't care what happens.
I hope who I am now dies and never comes back. That's right. The current me needs to die. If I could physically kill her, I would. Put her out of her pathetic misery.
Piece of shit.
In other news, I'm not bothering to make a list of resolutions because A. They're the same as last year, and B. they'll never happen.
Just thought I'd drop in again
To say that I hate myself and that I want to die.
I've done nothing for weeks.
I'm so depressed that since Thursday I've not left my house. I usually lay in bed and cry. Or sit in a chair and cry. My body is cold and shaking yet sweating.
::
2009 6 October :: 9.33 pm
:: Mood: cold
:: Music: No matter what the rhythm, this voice matches it.
The voice.
I can't be alright when there is suddenly a voice in my head endlessly chanting "Hopeless hopeless might as well kill yourself. Kill yourself kill yourself..." while I am sitting here trying to do my homework.
When I mentally slow down, the chanting gets slower. When I speed up, it gets faster. It never stops. I just can't be okay... But no one will listen to me, let alone help me.
Therefore, I am doomed. If I didn't get out of it by now, I never will.
I'm destined to kill myself. I fucking knew it. It's only a matter of time until then. I don't know how the hell it will happen, but the trend is showing that it will.
Even when I'm not this bad, I continue to value my own life less and less each day. I wish this voice would go away. Right when I thought I couldn't get any worse, I did.
Oh my fucking god. I'm really like this. Oh my god. It's terrifying.
Also, I'm about 99% sure that I've developed some kind of mental problem in the past five months due to many things. Don't really know what it is. I can't talk to anyone anymore. About anything.
Like... I was in lab one day... and I just started to cry, and it wasn't a little one. I couldn't stop for two hours or more while in class...
The other day... talking to my calc prof about stuff... just sharing our knowledge on schools I might consider... I stood up, and I almost started crying again for no reason.
Sometimes I can't leave my room for a day. Because I'm in bed, crying, endlessly.
Sometimes I cry in class. I have violent mood swings. I'm a million different people from one day to the next. A tycoon wannabe, an emo, a poet, an artist, an engineer,an ice-queen, a lover, a bat-shit insane bitch, a nympho, a shy girl, happy. Sad.
And all of these feelings are at an extreme. No examples needed. Trust me.
I got what I wanted. All of these years, I've been wondering how fucked up I could get, because I wanted to sink into being something dark to enrich my warped mind... to fuel my creativity. Getting drunk off my own brain chemicals.
I wanted to live an ugly life. And boy, am I living it in my head. It doesn't fit well with being an engineer.
For the love of god.
Please.
Show some pity.
I rarely directly address people about this.
Show. Some. Pity. I really need it. If I didn't need it to LIVE, I wouldn't ask for it.
Oh my god what's wrong with me.
I went to the doctor. I took multiple exams and tests. Nothing appears to be wrong... no pregnancy, everything is perfectly normal... since it's not a physiological problem...
::
2009 16 September :: 11.32 am
:: Mood: pissed off
A word of advice to people who ever have calc II with Little:
Don't take it. It's a waste of your time. When it comes to taking an exam, learn to write at (literally) 2.998x10^8m/s. DO NOT study how to do integrals. Do not practice the math.
So, I went 8.5 hours straight Sunday. Then, I went 9 hours straight on Tuesday, and I got to bed by 12.
I went to take my exam today, Wednesday.
How did I do?
Perfect. Mother fucking perfect. All of the studying and working paid off, in my eyes at least. I used all of the identities I knew, I approached every problem systematically, creatively, logically, perfectly. I know how to do everything. I understand how it works, and I could probably teach this unit.
However. Time limit was too short, and test was too long. I worked out every problem, and they were all right.
Problem is, I didn't feel like being a monkey who mashes buttons on its calculator. So, I didn't reduce any fractions, nor evaluate any definite integrals. Time ran out. "Oh shit."
Hence, I failed my test, because I can't write at speeds that require relativistic evaluation. I am not a slow worker. I'm not a slow thinker. I'm just not impossibly fast.
THEREFORE:
FUCK THE GRADE THAT APPEARS ON MY EXAM,
BECAUSE I SWEAR ON MY LIFE, YES ON MY LIFE,
THAT I COULD HAVE SCORED WELL OVER 100%
HAD THERE NOT BEEN: A RIDICULOUS TIME LIMIT
AND/OR A RIDICULOUS NUMBER OF QUESTIONS
AND/OR A RIDICULOUS AMMOUNT OF STEPS TO WRITE OUT.
Fuck Calculus II as a class. I've got mad skills, and I don't give a flying fuck what I score, because I truly KNOW this bullshit. Bullshit as it is, I know it.
Fuck calculus II, exams, cocky students in the class, graders, the prof, studying for 8 straight hours; FUCK IT ALL, I AM AWESOME.
::
2009 13 September :: 11.00 pm
:: Mood: restless
Risk.
It is a risk to take time to be myself.
So, I was pretty much on the verge of dying Friday night.
Then I lay in the sun. In my driveway. And folded pieces of grass.
And I felt a little better.
Something came over me... to take a risk... to let go of work for a day.
I went to dad's and had some sushi for dinner, since I didn't eat all day again. Later that evening, I ended up rushing my father to the ER. He inhaled something bad at work. He looked really bad, because he was essentially suffocating to death. I believe he was experiencing a chemical burn or some abrasion in his lungs. He ended up being okay though.
I'd never felt so shitty and weird in my life. I'd rather give up everything I've earned so far than see my dad get hurt or die. Seriously. I'd magically turn my life into collegeless, working as McDonald's going no where if it would save dad from something.
My Saturday was spent doing an oil change and some body work on my car. I also waxed it. I got more sushi. It was delicious. I barely touched my homework. I didn't care.
I burned a candle and went to sleep. Had a weird dream. Dr. Meyer was in it. It was weird, but it made me awkwardly happy.
Sunday morning. Woke up. Home. Laundry. Eat. Shower. Leave. Library for 8 and half hours. Home. Throw that shit in the dryer. Ray. Here I am.
I don't want to go to class tomorrow.
I want to chill out again. Shit felt good and gave me the mental edge to last 8 hours with nonstop Chemistry/Calculus/Physics.
Know what I'm thinking about? How useless social life is. Millions of friendly acquaintances here at BW. Zero of them are friends. All of my friends are gone. YAWN.
Apathy in a sea of apathy = Pissing in an ocean of piss.
Integrity in a sea of apathy = Still probably pissing in an ocean of piss, but I'd like to believe it's at least puking in an ocean of piss, or something more interesting.
