Okay, listen up. I'm pissed. I am so fucking done with people being insensitive little shits and using things like 'bipolar' as insults. As someone who has bipolar disorder, hearing someone say, "Stop being so bipolar" in an argument really fucking pisses me off. It is a disorder. It's not like it's something I can control, If I could stop changing moods at the drop of a hat, I would. I don't enjoy being confident one minute and wanting to kill myself the next, it's not fun for me. And just hearing people use what I have as an insult, that stings. Gay should not be used as an insult. There is a reason why people yell at you when you call something retarded. Neither of these things can be controlled, neither of them are a choice and that is why they should not be insults and that is why bipolar should not be an insult. Why are most insults based on things that are out of our control? You throw like a girl. I just had a total blonde moment. You are so white.
Why can't you see this is a bad thing?
Okay. I'm done.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Sooo...
So.
It's been a while.
There is a reason for that. Several, really. Most of them are health related. My father's health has never been exactly great, but it recently took a turn for the worse, and now he has oxygen that he carries around in a tank fed to his nose via cannula. My health has been quite shitty recently as well.
When I was a child, I had the immune system of a fucking rock. Now, suddenly I have allergies. I have to take medicine, I have asthma, I need glasses, I'm getting sick every month, when did I become such a delicate butterfly? My mental health has taken a nosedive as well, and that's more than a little unsettling. My mother saw the scars on my arm. She cried. I cried. She asked if I only just started. I told her she only just noticed. She's trying to get me to see a shrink.
I don't want to write about this anymore.
Last month was my birthday. My girlfriend baked me a carrot cake and got me roses and an enormous cup of coffee. She knows me so well :)
I reread Fahrenheit 451. It was even more awesome than I remember. I mean, holy shit, just read this:
“There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that’s too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood. Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life!”
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
If you haven't read it, read it. Right now. The movie is crap, but read it. Also Will Grayson Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan. And, fuck it, I'll make a list.
It's been a while.
There is a reason for that. Several, really. Most of them are health related. My father's health has never been exactly great, but it recently took a turn for the worse, and now he has oxygen that he carries around in a tank fed to his nose via cannula. My health has been quite shitty recently as well.
When I was a child, I had the immune system of a fucking rock. Now, suddenly I have allergies. I have to take medicine, I have asthma, I need glasses, I'm getting sick every month, when did I become such a delicate butterfly? My mental health has taken a nosedive as well, and that's more than a little unsettling. My mother saw the scars on my arm. She cried. I cried. She asked if I only just started. I told her she only just noticed. She's trying to get me to see a shrink.
I don't want to write about this anymore.
Last month was my birthday. My girlfriend baked me a carrot cake and got me roses and an enormous cup of coffee. She knows me so well :)
I reread Fahrenheit 451. It was even more awesome than I remember. I mean, holy shit, just read this:
“There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that’s too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood. Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life!”
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
If you haven't read it, read it. Right now. The movie is crap, but read it. Also Will Grayson Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan. And, fuck it, I'll make a list.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
I'M NOT A STONER. Wooaahh, duuude, look at my hands...
Let me start by saying this: I need glasses. Seriously, my mum and I were playing cows on a drive last week and I had such a hard time telling the difference between cows, horses, and the occasional deer that I stopped calling out "Cows" and started calling "Quadraped!"
It was not my best moment.
But anyway, I need glasses, so the other day, my mum and I went to get my eyes checked so I could get the right prescription, and let me say, it was the single most confusing experience my eyes have ever been through. There were flashing lights and blurry images and my mum being all haughty because she had better eyesight than me (but she got laser eye surgery, so it doesn't count) and at the end, the put these drops in my eyes that made my pupils dilate so I couldn't focus my eyes. And when I say dilate, I mean dilate completely. I looked like I had been possessed by a demon, there was no iris left to be seen.
And they stayed like that.
For two hours.
And when your pupils are dilated, they take in more light. Which means that for two hours I sat with my head in my arms and my eyes closed shut to make sure that no light got through to my retinas because it hurt so much. I felt like a vampire, and I probably looked like one too.
Now here's the funny thing, when I got home, my pupils still hadn't shrunk to the normal size yet, so that added to my new found sensitivity to light meant that I looked really, really stoned.
I took a picture:
And what they're supposed to look like:
Scary, isn't it? (Sorry about the crap lighting.)
It was not my best moment.
But anyway, I need glasses, so the other day, my mum and I went to get my eyes checked so I could get the right prescription, and let me say, it was the single most confusing experience my eyes have ever been through. There were flashing lights and blurry images and my mum being all haughty because she had better eyesight than me (but she got laser eye surgery, so it doesn't count) and at the end, the put these drops in my eyes that made my pupils dilate so I couldn't focus my eyes. And when I say dilate, I mean dilate completely. I looked like I had been possessed by a demon, there was no iris left to be seen.
And they stayed like that.
For two hours.
And when your pupils are dilated, they take in more light. Which means that for two hours I sat with my head in my arms and my eyes closed shut to make sure that no light got through to my retinas because it hurt so much. I felt like a vampire, and I probably looked like one too.
Now here's the funny thing, when I got home, my pupils still hadn't shrunk to the normal size yet, so that added to my new found sensitivity to light meant that I looked really, really stoned.
I took a picture:
And what they're supposed to look like:
Scary, isn't it? (Sorry about the crap lighting.)
Friday, March 15, 2013
Happy.
Recently, I've been feeling very shit. So, I decided that I would make a list of things that make me happy.
-Spring Break is officially here
-My beautiful girlfriend came back from Israel
-I am eating pie out of a bowl and it is delicious.
-I learned how to play Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons on the ukulele
-In art class we talked about Frida Kahlo and Louise Bourgeois
-Tom Milsom released over an hour of unreleased music and it is amazing
-Swing Club was today
-I am alive.
The last one doesn't always fall into the happy category, but right now, I'm glad to be alive. I spent the day with beautiful people doing wonderful things and right now, I am just so happy and excited about everything!
And sure, my back hurts and it's really hot (71.8ºF!! Contrary to popular stereotype, California is not all beaches and 80º on a cold day.) but right now, life is alright. And that's a damn sight better than what it has been.
-Spring Break is officially here
-My beautiful girlfriend came back from Israel
-I am eating pie out of a bowl and it is delicious.
-I learned how to play Little Lion Man by Mumford & Sons on the ukulele
-In art class we talked about Frida Kahlo and Louise Bourgeois
-Tom Milsom released over an hour of unreleased music and it is amazing
-Swing Club was today
-I am alive.
The last one doesn't always fall into the happy category, but right now, I'm glad to be alive. I spent the day with beautiful people doing wonderful things and right now, I am just so happy and excited about everything!
And sure, my back hurts and it's really hot (71.8ºF!! Contrary to popular stereotype, California is not all beaches and 80º on a cold day.) but right now, life is alright. And that's a damn sight better than what it has been.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Life is confusing and terrible.
Today was quite possibly one of the most emotionally stressing I have had in a while for no specific reason.
I started the day by waking up crying because of I nightmare that kind of opened up a lot of old wounds and poked at a lot of insecurities. After I had calmed down, I realised that I was incredibly tired. So tired, in fact, that I collapsed as soon as I got up. I tried to solve this with a gargantuan mug of tea. In first period, I had a math test. At 8 AM. I did alright, despite my lack of sleep. Then during second period I promptly crashed. And burned. You think Chernobyl was bad? That bitch ain't got nothing on me.
Second period finally ended, which was good because at that point, I was stabbing myself with a pencil to stay awake. During break I just gave up and took a nap on a bench. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Third period is art. That was all good. Nice and peaceful, just creating value scales with tempra paint. But then, the teacher called up everybody to have their picture taken. I feel like I should clarify that I hate having to have my picture taken when I am tired. I don't like having my picture taken on normal days, but when I'm tired, I loathe it. What I hate even more than that is having to smile. I don't find smiling natural or pleasant. It just doesn't work on my face. But my teacher wanted me to smile, so I smiled because I like her and she just wants me to be happy and then I saw my picture and why do I have to be so god-awfully hideous? Then I had to struggle to hide an anxiety attack.
Fourth period was choir. Normally I love that class, but today I fought back tears for the entirety of it. At one point I escaped to the bathroom so I could have a bit of a cry without anybody noticing.
Lunch was loud and dismal.
The rest of the day was just lethargic. I just wanted to crawl in a corner and cry. I still sort of do. I dissected flowers in biology (boringly easy) and then had gym (terrible).
I want to conclude by saying this: I haven't self harmed in a week and I am miserable. I was happier when I was cutting daily because you know what? The reason why self harm is so addictive is because it works. You hurt, then you feel better. And now I'm supposed to stop doing the only thing that made me keep on going and be happy about it? Why do I have to quit in the first place?
I started the day by waking up crying because of I nightmare that kind of opened up a lot of old wounds and poked at a lot of insecurities. After I had calmed down, I realised that I was incredibly tired. So tired, in fact, that I collapsed as soon as I got up. I tried to solve this with a gargantuan mug of tea. In first period, I had a math test. At 8 AM. I did alright, despite my lack of sleep. Then during second period I promptly crashed. And burned. You think Chernobyl was bad? That bitch ain't got nothing on me.
Second period finally ended, which was good because at that point, I was stabbing myself with a pencil to stay awake. During break I just gave up and took a nap on a bench. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Third period is art. That was all good. Nice and peaceful, just creating value scales with tempra paint. But then, the teacher called up everybody to have their picture taken. I feel like I should clarify that I hate having to have my picture taken when I am tired. I don't like having my picture taken on normal days, but when I'm tired, I loathe it. What I hate even more than that is having to smile. I don't find smiling natural or pleasant. It just doesn't work on my face. But my teacher wanted me to smile, so I smiled because I like her and she just wants me to be happy and then I saw my picture and why do I have to be so god-awfully hideous? Then I had to struggle to hide an anxiety attack.
Fourth period was choir. Normally I love that class, but today I fought back tears for the entirety of it. At one point I escaped to the bathroom so I could have a bit of a cry without anybody noticing.
Lunch was loud and dismal.
The rest of the day was just lethargic. I just wanted to crawl in a corner and cry. I still sort of do. I dissected flowers in biology (boringly easy) and then had gym (terrible).
I want to conclude by saying this: I haven't self harmed in a week and I am miserable. I was happier when I was cutting daily because you know what? The reason why self harm is so addictive is because it works. You hurt, then you feel better. And now I'm supposed to stop doing the only thing that made me keep on going and be happy about it? Why do I have to quit in the first place?
I am a pathetic human being.
Every month or so, I feel really bad about the way I live and decide that I'm going to get better. I clean my room like a maniac. I tell myself that I'm going to eat healthier and exercise more often.
This is usually what happens:
Me: *reorganizing bookshelves* Oh, wow! I haven't read this one in years! Maybe I'll just read for a chapter or so... *stays up until 5 AM reading*
Me: Okay, Clara. You have to eat. You are not fat. But eat healthy. And no, coffee does not count as food.
ONE WEEK LATER
Me: Fuck this. Doughnut.
TWO DAYS LATER
Me: *looks in mirror* I am so fat.
Me:*goes for three mile run* *comes home wheezing* I... forgot... to... take... my... inhaler.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
Me: *limps pathetically through house* Everything hurts... *doesn't run again for a month*
Who needs muscles and cleanliness?
This is usually what happens:
Me: *reorganizing bookshelves* Oh, wow! I haven't read this one in years! Maybe I'll just read for a chapter or so... *stays up until 5 AM reading*
Me: Okay, Clara. You have to eat. You are not fat. But eat healthy. And no, coffee does not count as food.
ONE WEEK LATER
Me: Fuck this. Doughnut.
TWO DAYS LATER
Me: *looks in mirror* I am so fat.
Me:*goes for three mile run* *comes home wheezing* I... forgot... to... take... my... inhaler.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
Me: *limps pathetically through house* Everything hurts... *doesn't run again for a month*
Who needs muscles and cleanliness?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)