[ cut ]

Recativation

Sun, 17 Nov 2002 09:14:15 GMT

~~cuts~~: None, and hopefully never again...

I have reactivated this journal because I would like to have it to reflect on what use to be. To see what is, visit unkissable.
I have learned from several of my mistakes, but reflecting on those mistakes can often make one wiser.

I have not vanished yet...

Sun, 05 May 2002 07:15:39 GMT

~~cuts~~ = [confidential]

I am now grounded, but I will try my best to update this journal. You have more of a chance by checking darkmind.

For the record: Scott cheated on me, I still love Steve, and I started severely cutting myself again.

help me

Random

Mon, 18 Mar 2002 08:46:01 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 0

First, I would like to apologize. My mother happened to stumble upon this livejournal, so I have been trying to make myself scarce.

Second, the reason for my post:

Me: so... in short... Steve thinks I am "whiney"?
Greg:More like annoying, I believe.

And now my heart lay bleeding on the floor.

help me

Hate

Sat, 09 Mar 2002 01:15:48 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 3

Ich ~~liebe~~ Sie.
Ich ~~hasse~~ Sie.

help me

Story Time and Homework Breaks

Mon, 04 Mar 2002 04:43:11 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 0

Hovering, it's mouth is close to mine. I kiss the opening with my lips...
Past, present, future become a blur and with this kiss, this single moment, I decide my fate. A finger, tightening around the trigger. The action not mine, yet is connected to my body, my thoughts. Click...
Copper caresses my tongue.

Wench!

Sun, 03 Mar 2002 07:24:50 GMT

~~cuts~~ = still bleeding

A perfect picture of my, by me.

help me

Comparison

Sun, 03 Mar 2002 06:54:33 GMT

~~cuts~~ = too bloody to tell

Greg: Everything I ever said to you, no matter how much feeling I put into it, it just went out the other ear, didnt it Cherith?

When you decided to contridict your "promises" and your "feelings" you forced them out the other ear. Maybe you shouldn't spend so much time with Steve... ?

help me

Days of the N.E.W.

Sun, 03 Mar 2002 06:34:01 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 0 (as of now, anyway)

To be new? To have something new? The soul has been temporarily cleansed. Tainted, dirty ways twisting and squirming under the hold of the new.
But soon, they will be set free again.

help me

Mindless Chatter

Sat, 02 Mar 2002 02:08:19 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 0

Scott: PLEASE don't do anything ok?
Me: ...
Scott: I will call the E.R. unless you promise me
Me: I promise... don't you dare call E.R.
Scott: Alright. We'll see what you pull. I love you.

help me

A Story For The Ages

Sat, 02 Mar 2002 01:34:44 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 1

A Story For The Ages

Once upon a time there was a young, morose girl who passionately hated her mother. Her mother kept her under thumb, almost as a Nazi would, and told her regularly that she was worthless. The girl invinted ways to anger her mother, yet this was where she had fault. Now the mother had reason to beat the girl. Life is harsh, as she found, so a decision was made. The decision was this: for every wrong, punishment and pain would be self inflicted onto the girl. By accumulationg various sharp objects, she was able to scar the inside of her wrist. Soon, more fleshy areas were introduced to the scar tissue. It wasn't long before her mother found of this and took her to the hospital. As though she felt no pity for her own flesh and blood, the mother whispered harshly in the girl's ear, "Don't you ever make a fool of me. You pretend you're fine, then leave." With this statement left ringing between her ears, she walked to the sixth floor of the hospital.
This was her first time, but not her last, inside the cold, confining rooms.
Once released from the hospital, the girl took to her room... drawing, listening to music, writing, cutting, anything to keep from remembering her pain. She feared to venture far from the outside of her bedroom door; and, gradually, the girl began to hear and see the unheard and unseen. First came the music. An eerie tune that she could not recognize. Then, came whispers from the dark corridors of the school, on the streets and sidwalks which she tread upon, in her own home.... Afraid and alone, her downward spiral began.
As her internal battle continued, her mother still lashed her rage upon her. In this state of confusion, she attempted suicide, and failed.
This is where I end the story, yet this story has no ending. It will continue until the suicide is successful. It will continue, as other's lives. It continues in the hearts and souls of others.

The story needed to be told.
And so, it has.

Obsession

Mon, 25 Feb 2002 12:15:43 GMT

~~cut~~ = 0

Steve: I don't care about what happens to me, but I still care about what happens to her.

I think every moment, emotion, and movement harbor feelings of uncertainty and therefore, taint whatever I see, do, or feel. My obsession with him, and the past can not be healty for me. They trigger too much pain, too much thought.

help me

Beauty

Fri, 22 Feb 2002 21:38:11 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 0

I am ~~beautiful~~.

helpme.

Fri, 22 Feb 2002 17:16:27 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 1 (which is actually a burn)

It screams in my ear, and yet the sound is beautiful. This isolation is bliss...
I'll keep my nothing to myself.

Today. Yesterday... Yesterday is more significant than today. I visited the middle school. Oh, such a sarcastic joy and rapture. I do so hate the past, so why revisit it? People still live in my past. I was scolded for being there "...you should be at the High School where you belong."
I do not belong there. I obviously do not belong anywhere.

He didn't call.
He won't call.

help me.

...

Mon, 18 Feb 2002 12:07:25 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 7

... I drink it all in. Every single one of them.

Last night was hell. I don't think I've every felt a sadness so overwelming. Nothing could stop it.
I sat there with the blood running down my leg...
I picked up a pencil and began to sketch Lain. Drunken swirls ... sitting there sketching and half listening to the warped techno sounds coming from my stereo.
I feel so dead.

help me.

Things

Fri, 15 Feb 2002 00:30:53 GMT

~~cuts~~ = 0

Horrible.
I feel like I am being eaten up on the inside. Every word, every movement is tainted by this "disease."

help me