have gone and checked your sm and i read that, and i don't know why, but it kinda broke my heart i guess i alreday knew, and you'd just come to the realisation, but to see it written its all i can do not to cry at the moment. i mss you. 3 days left of school for the term, if i can get through them, which juding by todays effort i won't i need to see you, i got the invite for nicks, but its got no info on it, mum wants an invite with details, bout parents and stuff, can you give me deails, or lie to me, so i can tell her ohs, on that saturday, iv gt art at schoool, i thought, maybe i could come to yours after that. probs around four or 5 i unno i just feel like crap.

59 kilos. I weighed myself just before. It’s been awhile since I’d done that and I have no idea what possessed me, usually those sorts of numbers don’t get a second glance. Its not about the number, its about how tight my clothes are, how prominent that curve of my stomach is, how much my hips bulge over my jeans. I’m sorry darling, that I got so shitty at you the other day, for offering to help me. I don’t know if you read that in the message, but I was raging. You have to understand, I’m not angry at you, Im angry at me. It’s that summer all over again, a couple of summer’s ago I put on 8 kilos, in 6 weeks. Since then, I haven’t lost that. I just got a little used to it, I pull my stomach in tighter, bought slightly bigger clothes. I hate it, I hate myself, I used to be thin, I used to have hipbones that you could grab onto, not too protruding but enough. My stomach used to be almost flat. It was never as disgusting as it is now. Even my face was thinner. I know you say you love my body, but I cannot even begin to comprehend how. It is disgusting. And the reason darling, that I got so mad, is that it won’t change. I’ll continue to put on weight. I won’t exercise; I won’t stop eating too much. It doesn’t change. Something happened, I lost all my motivation. I can’t seem to do it anymore. I used to be able to run, to do 200 sit ups if I put my mind to it. I was okay at yoga. And now I’ve stopped, somewhere, somehow in the last couple of years I stopped. I was never very strong, but now, now I have no strength. I’m not playing sport now, and I don’t exercise. If I kid myself, I can maybe say that walking is my exercise. But it’s not. I used to have days spent, of activity, of doing stuff. And now, I don’t really do much. I don’t care so much about being a stick anymore; I just want those numbers back down towards 50, below 55, sitting on 52, even 53. I want be less disgusting. And baby, you can’t offer to help me, well you can. Just I won’t take you up on it. I’m too ashamed to let you see how unfit, how weak I am. And you’ll say you won’t care, but I do. So much. Im just being stupid and pround, of something that there is nothing to be proud about. I’m just hoping, that maybe something will change and that I can get that bit of motivation back, the motivation that pushed my asthma riddled lungs to play centre, to try and keep up with my brother as he ran the city to bay, to be able to do 200 pushups. Maybe, I’ll start trying. See I started, on the weekend, I forced myself to not go in the car, to walk, to do some yoga, to not binge. Then I get back to here, to this shed. To the charged emotions, the hills around me, and the full pantry. And I lose it all again. And now I’m making excuses. I’m out for now. I can’t see to type anymore for the tears.

I’m so sick of the noise. Wellie has been banished to the bedroom and he will not stop running his feet along the iron. The dogs whimpering. That bloody alarm. The scuffing sound of her uggboots. The violence in all their actions. In this place, there is no way of hiding, no privacy from their arguments, and the noise, the noise. Lately it has been unbearable. I crave silence, but even in silence there is that ringing. It’s so bad now. So loud. My ears are killing me, always. Music one of my favourite things, and I know that I’m taking it away from myself but I have to have my ipod loudish, otherwise I can’t hear it for the ringing. It’s a vicious circle, starting with my metal phase so many years ago, when I first started being angry at the world. I cranked those tunes so loud to block it out, and now, I’m paying for it. I hate how we think we are invincible, or that what we do today on’t matter because we’ll be gone in a few years. How wrong we are when we believe in that. We are such fragile broken things, living out our lives withering slowly one day at a time. The world is breaking. We are broken. I cut the other night, the first time in so long. Not deep though, twenty times. The satisfaction of seeing the blood roll over my side and onto the sheets. I guess, I really didn’t have to. But I decided to, I wanted to, and I was so worked up that nothing else seemed that it would work to put me down. As soon as I put that blade to my skin the adrenalin began to kick in, and I was calm, I stopped shaking. I hurt, and bled and I still worried but it was easier. I don’t know why. Just is that way. It was lovely being with you today, by the way dearest. Our ‘walk’ lying on my bed, being sneaky behind the art book (; I wish you hadn’t had to leave. I’m alone now. Stuck in this fucking hell hole. anndd i feel horrible. so huge and fat and disgusting >__

um. so. yeah i see you tommorow (: yayy! i have to say though, i'm a tad aprehensive about having my picture taken, but ill guess ill have to deal, umm weekend plans have been shot to hell i cannotdonotreally want to have to lie to the parents honeeslty im not even sure i wanna go anymore movies is out too, i have no money, i spent it on art stuff and im only working two hours this week what else? i unno i want to saeeyou though. movies at yours again???

last day with internet. i am actaulyl so happy that it would conncect (: um. so im exhausted. i cried alot, played with blades but didn't cut i'v done a heap of homework, and i feel slightly better, i'm going to go to bed early and stuff, try and kick this shitty feeling oh i got my formal pics today i hatedthem at first glance, but now there are a couple i want, three to be exact, one of jay and i, one of my philosophy class and a bros photo. i also have my art indepth question, illustration as a valid art form. ahh my head is everywhere. thsi weekend, jay, i'm thinking movies on saturday and tehn oscar shoudl be havign a party on sat night, and we can sleep over and it will be great. i need to talk to you about art btw, ums im thinking, not in my room anymore, i'm thinking plain white background if there's somewhere we can do that, um and yeah i need to make some stuff for it, but maybe, i unno, in a couple of weekends?? i'm not suree.

I spend almost as much time thinking about cutting as I do thinking about jay, possibly more. lately though it’s been haunting me like never before. I think about the urges, the feeling of the blade slicing through. that nowdays, I can’t bring myself to press just a little bit harder to make them deep. about whether or not I should get a new first aid kit, just incase I start again. I gave most of my blades away, but now should I go get more. I cannot stop thinking about it. every time I get an urge I make the descision to not cut, no matter how hard I’m craving it I try and ride it out, dictract myself. but I fucking miss it, and I know, one day sooner or later I will cave. ill start again and I want to so fucking much. but I don’t want to. I don’t even know. I have depended on it so much. I think things start to get better but then i’ll get yet another urge. these urges, I have so many triggers, so much makes me want to cut. any small amount of anger sadness and disappointment and I can feel a ghostly blade slashing at my wrists. I feel it all the time, I know the signs; my heart sinks and then my wrists start to ache. pleading for the blood to be released. did you know, that when you make those little silly shallow cuts, they have a name? their called hesitiation wounds or something. it’s sick I know that, sick that I know the positioning of every major artery in the body. I feel sick sometimes when I someone else’s scars because I want them so badly. I use my own scars like a stress ball, stroking them to relieve the tension. I want to cut. I need to cut. I want to, I have to. so why don’t i? what the fuck is stopping me? home is horrible. dad’s actually not so bad. I know that they’re having a hard time accepting it. but he seems to be trying, unlike her. he seems to paving the way for me abit.a nd though I doubt I’ll ever tell him I’m thankful. I’m also cynical, maybe it’s just because its for art that I can see her. I don’t know. I was so fuckign wrong back then when I thought that they would accept it. I should have known I guess, but I had so much hope. dad was asking her tonight if jay can come up to help me, because I’d asked and she hadn’t answered. she always does that. she said not while I’m at home. that doesn’t work. she’s always at home. always. it’s my fucking art. it’s not like I’m going to be kissing her there or anything. because oh no mother fucking dearest I try so fucking hard to not scar you with any details of our relationship. I need to talk to you mother dearest I need to fucking have it out with you. I should ring ross. I need another appointment. I wonder, could we do a thing, me, ross, jay and the parents. maybe? I’ am so sick of it. i’m so down. Friday night was amazing but I have cried so much in the past few days. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted, stressed and losing it. winter is always bad for me. I love the cold and the rain and everything. but it makes me sad. this is when is start cutting again. I just want to be able to see her, to not live in fear that my mother will rage at two girls kissing, a gay pride site or a text from jay. I am not myself with my family. I am a shadow, a ghost. I try to be who they want to be, to some extent. I ahte it. they don’t even fucking know who I am. and when the internet is cut off. then what? I can write, but you won’t be able to read it. it’s been awhile since I said this, but I’m craving some oblivion right now. I managed to ride out the night, to cry and talk to her, finally achieving numbness. I don’t like it. she’s been putting on a mask to. she can’t cope either. mm. it just occurred to me that this may not make any sense at all whatsoever, its seven in the morning and I’ve had about four hours sleep, but that’s more than what she had. her eloquence is amazing, all these things I’ve felt for years she manages to describe it perfectly: “and I just feel like fucking crap, I’ve been putting this mask to everyone, that I’m fine, that I’m perfectly in control of myself and it’s driving me insane. but I’m keeping at it. I can’t afford to fuck up as much as I want. to just fuck it all and run away some place with you. I can’t, it’s not a real option and I just have to fight through my mind. it’s a constant battle with it to stay in control for myself and everyone around me.” “I won’t keep up a mask for you, but I will be strong for you, even if it’s just for you. because as long as we’re fine, I’m fine and as long as you’re okay I am too. the thing is I am genuinely happy when I’m with you. all the bad things I’m feeling go away. then they all come flooding back and all too quickly and it’s dreadfully overwhelming. but I’m okay I can control it, it isn’t that bad. kit certainly isn’t nearly as bad as it used to be. I love you and that’s all that fucking matters. and I’d do whatever it takes to keep you from going over the edge… and if you go, I go with you. it’s just the way it is. so together we rode out the night, crying, hurting. alone. separated by fifteen minutes of distance. it could be another fucking state it seems that far. this morning, four hours later, somehow awake and moving my mother starts blabbering at me, telling me okay, Jacinta can come up tonight. I’ll pick you guys up from art, dad will take you home afterwards. I hate her. honestly, how does she think that she can just do that. you’ve got guitar ensemble after school, so that wouldn’t work anyway. and my ideas are changing, I want to plan them a bit more. you can’t just do that. I cried for hours last night, for you to turn around and pretend it never happened. I’m sorry. I just can’t do that. I give up.

it wouldn't let me reply to your post, but it said something along the lines of, as soon as i stepped out of your room i was missing you. i realllyreally do have to see you soon, as soon as possible, i dont know when, but soon. when we're together it seems as thuogh we've never even been apart, but when i have to go, it's as if the world shines a little duller, so yeah, i's like to see you SOON, now, my bit, about last night (: there is something about her moans, about making her writhe in pleasure. my favourite moments are looking at her while we’re fucking, there’s this look on her face, her eyes half closed, I cant describe it, but it makes me so happy. tonight, wow, I have never felt more in sync (and not in that way darling girl) we were just perfect together. I wish I was back there, so bad, kissing you, playing with your piercing, teasing you, up and down your stomach, across your pelvis, occasionally licking you, softly biting your neck, lingering on your nipples, oh those nipples. and your ears, just everything about you. last night was amazing, the best night we’ve spent together so far, meeting callum. then the bus ride home, you resting on me, talking, that guy was creepy though I couldn’t tell what his glances were supposed to mean. then your place, your mother trying to detain me, keeping me from your bed. thank you again to your dad darling, I feel somewhat indebted to him, without his ‘strict instructions’ such a night would not have been possible. I can’t actually string words together in a sentence to describe the awesomeness of last night, I can give you words though: moans, touch, stroke, bite, kiss, fuck, cuddle, l word, distraction. I got home, tired and content, not even the mother could bring me down, just a wonderful feeling. I cannot cannot wait until we are living together, to be able to fall asleep in your arms, to not have to worry about my parents coming to get me, to have all the time we want to spend together, sleep ins on the weekend.

i rreally would like someone to decide my future for me, that or to have an UH-HUH that's my calling moment its that time of year, the ceeebs time, 16 more weeks left of highschool EVER, and then what? the then what freaks the fuck outta me. so yeah um, im getting shit from my teachers, ms robson saying shes worried coz i havent done anything, whihc is BADDD when she says that and ms hunts like youre not doing your best, i was aiming for 18s in evertything i doubt i can get it, i just dont care. not at all. on a lighjter note, i fuckign love babysitting, tonight, we watched swan lake and i streaked the mother's hair im gonna see you tommorow jay, i HAVE to, fuck the rest, i need you, and i need to do my art. (:

i am surprisingly apathetic, i am doing nothing, school is seemingly sucha wate of time,onyly sixteen more weeks, thn its over but that's so long then after the future, fuck that i want t o spend eternity in bed withyu i want to disregard reality i want it all to fuck off for awhiile and the stupidhypocritical thing is i dont actualyl feel tht bad just ergghhh imm fucking sick ofit. i need a change of scenery

i am grumpy> see tumblr post. but tomorrow i'm going to jamie, and i'm seeing jay, and it will be wonderful and OH FUCK i'ma hypocrite i jus sent this massive email to dot, coz i'm fucking worried about her, then i start talking to someone else how i dont wanna be =eating tomorrow. agrh. i wonder, one day, will i ever stop hating myself? one day, will i wake up, and be able to spend the WHOLE ENTIRE day without thinking osmething bad about myself. i really dislike fb chat too, its STUPIDO in the extreme. last night i had this MASSIVE oh god, seventeen weeks and then i won't be at school anymore, it's scary, it's so hard to imagine. i'm considering nuring then specialisig in adolescent psych, it scaes me though to think, not about next year, but the year after, when Jays finished year twelve, and america and stuff.,,