"Have you had any suicidal thoughts lately?"

"No."
I'm not suicidal or anything at all.

I just think about dying a lot.

Nightmares and anger.

The past few nights have been filled with nothing but dreams that are bringing out the worst in me. One after another every night, and it's really getting to me.

My past, present, and future is haunting me.

The other night I dreamed of getting smashed in the head with a nail, but was totally fine despite the blood getting everywhere. That's not what bothered me though. I was in the car driving with Arty, his mom in the passenger seat, his father and I in the back seat because they insisted I got medical attention. As I was looking out the backseat, we were having conversation, and I suppose I let slip out, "Oh, well I don't like showing off my body and dressing nice," and his mother replied with, "WELL WHY NOT? YOU'RE SEXY WHY NOT SHOW IT OFF!" and his father chimed in with "SHE'S RIGHT SHOW OFF A LITTLE MORE," and he started tickling me. At that point I was disturbed. I don't want you to touch me. I don't want to show off my body. Go away.

Monday night, I got the worst of it. I dreamed of being at home in the sitting room. Mr. B was there, only it wasn't him. It was some cracked out, autistic, sexually deviant, immature persona in his body. I was scared. He wouldn't let me go. He kept laughing and holding me down and made me do this and that and this and that and I don't like it anymore. I remember how it felt, I remember what I saw, I remember how he acted. Why? I don't want to remember. Please, go away. Let me go and go away. I woke up in shock, at first, not remembering what I was afraid of in the first place. I let the situation of what happened develop in my mind. As soon as that happened, I got up and broke down. I was terrified to even close my eyes again. I couldn't, wouldn't let myself go back to sleep. If I had dozed off for even 10 seconds I woke up in horror. I wanted to tear off my skin to get rid of the dirty feeling. I held it in my hand against my skin in my futile attempts to keep me awake. As I woke up in shock, my hand shook pressing the blade lightly against my skin. I have shallow flesh cuts.

Last night, was a different dream. Still disturbing, but I can't grasp it. I was in English again, I was closing my eyes, but I knew I was wearing what I had worn earlier that day--my AE flannel and bullhead skinnies. I had my head down and Ms. S came up behind me to me and said, "Dianney, what's wrong?" I tilted my head back and kept my eyes closed, I was cold, "I'm tired, I'm so tired." Ms. S leaned in closer to my face, "I love you Dianney," and I said, "I love you too." And she repeated it, "I love you Dianney," and I was going to say it again, only her lips pressed softly against mine stopped me from doing so. My lips move with hers; I don't know if I wanted them too or not. "I love you Dianney" and she pressed her lip against mine again, tongue in for a split second, slid out, completed the kiss and I opened my eyes. She smiled and walked away. I woke up.

I don't know what my subconscious mind is trying to tell me, but it's really scaring me now. I don't want to remember. I'm doing so good at blocking out the bad things, why are you doing this to me? Mr. C told me today that in our minds, while we're awake, it's like having a continuous conversation with oneself, and in essence that's true, though I've never thought about it. He said that while we're asleep, we still have conversations with ourselves, only in pictures, and you aren't really there to control what's being said or done. Which is a good point. But. Why do I want to tell myself these things? Why am I bringing back the hurt? I don't want to hurt anymore. Hey, me, why do you want to hurt me?

Today, my mother had used my Hello Kitty container, and it really made me upset. I'm still upset about it quite frankly. First of all, it isn't hers. I bought it. I bought it, don't fucking touch it. Second, she used it to put her greasy ass chicken in it. BITCH, don't you know oil and shit sticks to plastic and it's almost IMPOSSIBLE to wash out!? I hate you. I hate you for taking my things without permission. I hate you for assuming it's okay to do that. I hate that if I even said anything you would say something like, "I'm only borrowing it," or  "I'm your mom be nice." Both are invalid reasonings to me. I bought that container merely of comfort. Knowing it was mine, and mine alone in a pattern that I enjoyed was comforting, and what do you do? YOU TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME. Just like you take everything else away from me. And I can't do a fucking thing about it. Do you realize how much significance that had to me? Yes, it was only $1 but it was MINE. MINE MINE MINE MINE. I don't have anything else that's MINE. My life isn't really my life, my decisions aren't really my decisions, why can't I have anything!? Why! Tell me why?! I try to be nice, and respectful in hopes of getting that returned to me, but NO. I can't. I can't win. Why would you do this to me? I hate you. I hate you so much. I got so mad earlier, and I couldn't stop crying. I tried to suffocate myself in my sleep, or induce some sort of heat stroke upon myself as I cried. I woke up, and cried some more. Only I was more angry this time. I punched walls, threw things, and pushed things over. I hate you for making me this way. I really hope that one day you will see how much damage you've done to me because I don't have the strength to show you now. But someday you will see, and you will regret ever having done anything to me.

I just want to throw up everything inside of me.

blood,

lungs,

and even my heart.

Who needs that stuff anyway?

I don't.

Even though I don’t really believe in the concept of ‘love,’ I still, every now and then, wonder about what it could actually be and if it really exists. 

I wondered about it today.

I sit mindlessly at the computer skimming through books and articles as part of my makeup work while you sit behind me. You take out your phone because you have a missed call. I am listening to your conversation.

Hey what’s up.

I love you too.

…

I love you too.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

 You said it so many times in just a short phone call. I didn’t really understand the significance of me trying to dissect anything any further. It’s just so puzzling. 

I was a little jealous—only because you had someone there for you.

I was jealous of anyone who had someone there for them—a best friend, a lover, a fiance, a parent, etc.

I wondered, what it could be like. To have someone that I could call or say something like that to. To have someone to hug and laugh with me and act silly with and keep me warm on most days. To have someone make this world feel less lonely than it already did. To have someone to love and love back, even if it doesn’t exist.

But who am I kidding?

I do not believe in love.

Love does not believe in me.

Love does not exist.

Today
I woke up thinking

"Wow, I don't feel good.
I think maybe I'll throw up
and
faint today."

Current teachers shooting glances of concern.

Future teachers showing the same concern.

Guidance counselors who are not even technically my guidance counselor showing concern.

I am one giant walking affair.

Today was wierd. 

My thoughts were getting pulled around left and right inside my head,

 and I was just very tired all day.

But

Liz drew a smiley face on my leg

in one of the holes in my pants.

It made me feel better.

You vs. Dianney. Vs. Self - Round 1

A pass with my name written correctly has summoned me into your possession.

I sit in the same spot I always have. I put my things in the same place I always do. We talk about the same things we always have. You're repeating yourself for the umpteenth time. I don't know if I should tell you or not. I'm kind of annoyed by it, but at this point just hearing you talk brings a sense of security that I don't care what you're talking about, as long as you're talking to me. It scares the bad voices away.

It is cold, and my clothes are too thin.

You ask me of a drawing that I had shown another teacher earlier this morning. The other teacher had been worried about it. The drawing was basically a self portrait of myself. It's a clown holding black balloons in striped clothing with a toy gun to her head. Having this be one of my more morbid and straightforward drawings to appear from me, you ask me not to show you my drawings to anyone else without showing you first. I agree. I assume you're directing it towards drawings that are straightforward and morbid, not to all my drawings.

You are asking me questions now. More personal and invasive than usual. Questions like "Have you ever been emotionally/physically/sexually abused? Has anything traumatic/dramatic ever happened to you?" Etc. I am getting somewhat uncomfortable. You tell me I am not obligated to answer if I do not want to. I say no to your standardized questioning. You tell me to think about it. Because there has to be a source as to why baby Dianney feels the way she does -- it can't just come out of nowhere.

You are asking me harder questions now. One of your questions are too hard for me to answer and I make up a lie so I don't look more of an idiot that you probably think I am. Your other questions are easy though and the answers are of instinct. I do, however, hate to admit what the answers are to you.

Am I really that embarrassed of myself?

You continue talking. You talk about what we can and can't control, good people and bad people, pretty people and ugly people, smart people and stupid people, etc. We talk about my hair and you ask about academic performance, You give me a solution which I had known all along. I am lazy, not stupid.

We have taken about 40 minutes, and I get back to class with only half an hour remaining. I keep my head down on my desk for the rest of class because I am not prepared today. I am not prepared any day. I play with the words you planted in my head and decide that I do not like them. They are making my head swim and I want to throw up.

I will try though. I will try to get through this.

Well, the weekend past, and I miraculously managed to stay sane and unharmed. It was alright, I suppose. I ran, which is good. I got a new desk lamp. I got a new Hello Kitty journal. I made brownies. I stayed up. I slept. I made brownies. I procrastinated.

The week ahead is sort of hectic, and will most certainly be different.

• Monday - Orthodontist appointment; Fateful day where they tell me if I still need my braces off or not. I hope I get them off. *knock on wood*
• Tuesday - Advanced Classes Summer Work Meeting; Really considering not going to this and just getting it the next morning. It just doesn't seem worth the stress.
• Wednesday - Concert/Dentist appointment. If I need to be at the concert, I will be there. If I don't, I will go to the dentist for my final feelings.
• Thursday - Marching Band practice; I really hope we're outside.
• Friday - Little brother's first Semi; I'll go to 3rd Friday and take some pictures.

I also get my first roll of film developed after taking pictures with my Petri FTII. I'm excited to see what they come out like.

After Friday's meltdown/breakdown, whatever the hell you want to call it. I feel like everything will be different -- whether it's good or bad, I don't know. I don't know if I'm excited or nervous or just apathetic toward it; I just kind of want to make it toward the end of the year. 

Cold air
Teeth chattering
Goosebumps
Shakey hands
Weak knees
Watery eyes
Empty stomach

Maybe I should just chop off all my hair
and
call it a life.

I won't say anything anymore.

I'll be a good girl now.

The bell rang for dismissal and I hesitantly walked out. I stood outside and froze in my place, "Did I want to go home? Or did I want to go talk to Ms. Smith?" I stood in the warmth of the spring air for a minute and found myself heading back inside. The door was locked from when I came out and I ran to the other entrance in urgency. I barged back into the classroom, hair in my face.

"What's up? Are you okay?"
"No."

I put my head down on my desk and tarted crying hysterically. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her,

"I'm so scared."

and cried some more.

"What are you scared of?"

I pointed to my head and cried again. She asked me what was it that made me scared. I told her about the thoughts that circulate in and out throughout the day, "Rip off your skin. Poke out your eyes. Pop your lungs." She asked me if I wanted to cut myself, and I said yes. She asked me if I already had. I said no.

No hard questions, mostly yes or no ones. She said that she didn't want to see me off on the weekend if I was feeling like this, so she contacted the guidance counselor, and no response. We walked down together, with me following close behind her long, lean legs, and she slowed down and put my arm around me and told me it'll be okay.

At the guidance counselor's office, no one was really there. My guidance counselor, according to last name, had been out, and the one that I usually spoke to was out of the building. A different guidance counselor, however, had gotten a hold of him and called Ms. Smith in to talk to him. I suppose she explained the situation and how the grey grey voices in my head were whispering bad bad things to me and that I needed help, like, now.

We sat and waited in the office. I watched her fiddle with her bags and things. The office felt like an ice box and I watched my goosebumps make all the hairs on my arm stand up, my hands start to shake and my teeth start to chatter.

Ms. Smith then said, "I forgot!" And I just gave her a questioned look. She took up her purse an took out a small container of Play-Doh and gave me half a piece, "For something to do while we wait."

We sat and played until Mr.Cirocco had come in.

I got up, and Ms. Smith had stopped me and said, "I don't think I can stay around, but here. Everything will be okay, I love you." It sounded so sincere.

I.. I didn't know.. that it was possible to love some sort of monstrous creature like me.

She handed me the rest of the Play-Doh and sat in the familiar office with the familiar Mr. Cirocco. I cried some more, and he put his hand on my arm. It was really hot, but it felt nice on my cool skin -- I could have sworn part of me melted in steam when we made contact -- I heard it. I took out the play-doh from it's container and played as he asked me some trivial questions about the grey grey voices and the bad bad things they say. The warmth from Ms. Smith's hands stuck onto the play-doh as it moved through my fingers. It was like the warmth of her heart was transferred into it too.

After a couple minutes, he finally concluded I get outside help, such as a therapist, I must attend weekly sessions with him.

I called my mother and she didn't comprehend. Mr. Cirocco hearing the frustration I was getting out of the call, took my phone and spoke to her. I understood that she didn't really understand what she was saying and that she was just saying the socially acceptable thing.

We made pinky promises of me not hurting myself, and such.

He had to leave, and he had asked me where I lived to see how long it would take for my mother to get me. I mentioned my address and he knew it along with the other guidance counselor he had sent to babysit me while I wait. Apparently, that's where the other guidance counselor lives. He lives right down the street from me. What a coincidence. He's actually nice, and we got along really well. He also understood what anime was and that was awesome too.

Mr. Cirocco came back to see me one more time, gave me a hug and a kiss on the head.

I was caught off guard... Someone.. someone cares..? Is this really what it feels like?

My mother came, and I had papers for her to sign, and instructions that they had to call in Monday morning. She tried to make me tell her what I'm thinking, and I told her. She thinks I'm crazy.

My dad said he wasn't mad, and he called the school crazy for calling me crazy. Which is absolutely ridiculous, because in NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM did they call me crazy..

Then they both thought it was some big misunderstanding. Some huge joke that this was happening only because it was Friday 13. Totally irrelevant.

It was bound to happen someday, and today it did, but do I have any support from the people who I actually need it most from? No.

I should have never said anything in the first place. I should have kept my mouth locked and tight like I have been for years. They don't get it. They don't understand. They try to explain how upset felt like, but it's a different upset than what I feel. They are not there for me.

I always set myself up for things like this.

I have tons of things due in school.
My grades are slipping again.
I'm behind in everything.
I'm no longer focused..

was I ever focused to begin with?

I can't remember.
I just want to get through this
and not disappoint anyone.

But that's not possible
because
I can't do anything right

I am a failure.

All I can do
is

Sleep

sleep

run

sleep

procrastinate.

Lay

lose sleep

cry

starve

sleep

wake up

repeat.


And
I'm not even good
at that.

Everytime I open my eyes,

it always feels like

I see too much

Like I hear too much

Like I smell too much

Like I've swallowed too much at once.

I want to throw up.

I wish

I could just put my head down

and keep my eyes closed.

Even if I'm not sleeping,

it's okay.

I wonder
when my spine
will finally
rip through my skin.
And when my limbs
will finally fall off
their joints.
And my eyes
will fall out its sockets.
And my blood
will cease to flow life through my body.
And when my heart
will
finally
stop
beating.

My teeth hurt.
They want to tell my secrets.
My skin itches.
All my blood wants to spill out.
My head hurts.
My thoughts want to escape.
My eyes hurt.
They're tired of what they see.

But on another note, I'm gingey now, and I really like this picture.

Junior prom.

Why didn't I think of logging this down earlier? The fact that I'm an idiot is probably why. Anyways, Last night I went to junior prom with AL, and it was amazing. I mean, I usually hate going to those sort of things, you know? I'm always wallowing in some back corner with a pretty dress, nice hair, and good make up all by myself. But you know what? I had a good goddamn time. I danced, I ate, I did everything I usually wouldn't do.

Well, first of all, I went for a nice two mile jog beforehand. I couldn't make a new PR because I had pulled an idiot moved and forgot to drink, so I got dehydrated on the way back. Not good. I made it home though in under 26 minutes, which is all that really matters to me. I went to Rite Aid and picked up some make up and got home got ready. I had some pretty good goddamn timing cause I did my hair and make up perfectly.

AL had arrived, and as he came to the door, he looked at me and said, "My parents are STARING right now aren't they." I look past him, and both of his parents are gawking at us. Awkward, but hilarious. I got my corsage, I got my ID. Picture taking time!

Love this picture of us!

Guess where I got my short genes from?

His mother and father!

Pictures were over, and off to prom we go!

So we get there and everyone is there, but it hasn't 'officially' started because people are just getting pictures taken, dinner hasn't been served and the dancefloor was empty. We take our seats and wait for the festivities to begin. 

Dinner~ We cut everyone because our table is right there and it looks like we're just waiting to sit. AL tells me to fill up a plate of food with him and so I did, but I actually didn't eat it all. VV worked there and that surprised me. I felt bad that she was missing out on the fight to be cleaning up after a bunch of juniors in high school. 

Dancefloor is open! GT, AJ, AL and I get out on the dancefloor and at first we don't know what to do. Eventually, we get more comfortable with ourselves and find ourselves dancing in a way that we didn't really think we would. All in good fun, though. I enjoyed it. We even slowdanced, and that was fun too! Watching the gay boys dance though made me kind of jealous, I mean, they could dance better than we could! 

Desserts were served~ Belgian chocolate cakes, cherry chocolate cakes, carrot cakes, chocolate eclaires, lemon squares, strawberry mousse, and cookies. I had a little of everything, but didn't actually finish anything. 

Too cute!

Back to dancing~

They crown king and queen and play 3 more songs, and prom is over. We're waiting to get picked up to go to applebees.

Ahh, I keep saying each picture is my favorite, but this is so cute~

We get to applebees and we eat very little. Mostly, we're talking and having a good time. 

We don't leave until around 1.

All in all, junior prom was great. I ate, I danced, I laughed, I forgot.

If only these moments could last forever.

Happy Mother's Day.

I just wanted to give you a big

Fuck you.

One bad decision for a lifetime of guilt

or

No decisions at all for a lifetime of sadness.

Dianne : 0

Life : ∞

I just can't seem to win.

Everything is so heavy.
Heavy head.
Heavy eyes.
Heavy heart.
Heavy mind.

Held down,
Tied back,
Mouth shut,
Eyes closed.

I can't breathe.

Running out of hope.

Running out of blood.

Running out of breath.

Running out of life.

It's breaking.
I can see the cracks
and they're spreading.
I can sense the entire structure trying it's best to hold itself together.

It's no use.
Pieces are starting to fall off.
They kiss the floor with a crash
and a pile of dust and rubble is left.

No one is going to clean
and
pick them up.

No one.

They are just going to ignore it
and leave it a lone.