Sunday, September 19, 2010

I'm not even sixteen yet.
I can't walk properly.
I can't stand without shifting my weight back and forth because my ankles are too weak.
I spend every second of my life in pain.
I have more doctors than friends.
I've been high; but not off any drugs that most people my age are using. No. I've been high off pain medication that I take because I'm in pain.
I'm afraid to even consider starting driving because my legs twitch violently, which could be a problem what with the using your feet for brakes and speed.
I can' wear skinny jean because they don't fit over my leg braces.
I'm too tired most days to do anything, so I never leave my house except for school, doctors, and grocerys.
The constant pain doesn't make me very nice. So kids at school don't exactly go out of their way to speak to me.
Besides, I don't even know how to talk to people.
I'm a teenager. But I'm not. My insides arre old. My skin is young.
And I need to get new shower curtains.

Thursday, September 16, 2010


So... What to say? I sounded a bit crazy in that last post. Sorry. Nothing bad happened that directly effected me. I'm sure something bad happened somewhere.
I've been back at school for a week now, and can I say OW. So many stairs, so little time to climb them. I only have classes on the top floor and in the basement. And I can't walk down stairs properly because my ankles don't bend forward since the surgery.
But besides the stairs thing, and the pain thing, its been good. My sewing teacher is cool, and my English teacher actually spent an entire class having us see who could fold and throw a paper airplane the farthest. I got third place, best out of all the girls. Yes, I know. Pointless skill.
Oh, and I got a new therapist person. Actually, my old phychiatrist had a baby and went on mat. leave, and now I have a therapist and a phychiatrist. As far as I can tell, the therapist just calls in the other guy to write pharscriptions.
He's nice, the therapist. His name is Peter Mary. I meant to ask him if his middle name is Paul. I told my friend that and she didn't get it. Before her time, I guess. Before my time too, really, but I know a lot of stuff from before my time.
Anyways, we talked about elephants. And my religion, because he didn't know a lot about it and he wanted to understand. He also apologized in advance if he says something offending because he doesn't know or understand something about it. I told him I don't get bothered by people offending me, only when they offend people I care about. Then I threaten them or yell or actually hurt them.
I have anger issues.
I think its cause I was always so shy as a kid, and I just kinda stuffed everything down deeper and deeper and then in grade six I made friends with this girl and she just somehow made me stop stuffing and actually act on my anger, but I never learned how to properly express my anger so it comes out about the oddest things and in violent ways.
Like last week, I wouldn't make my sister pasta so she called me a b****. I started grabbing things and throwing them at her as hard as I could. ie a magnetic paper holder on the fridge, a binder, a cutting board, a butter knife, a shirt, a toothbrush...
I don't even know why. I don't even remember much. But I know I ended up in my room, a cut on my face and I had been writ ting on my bedroom wall, which isn't that weird because its kinda what I do, graffiti my wall. My mom says its okay because you can actually see the stud things through the wall it needs new paint s bad and I'm a good artist so it makes it look better. She said that not me. I'm not actually that good.
On my walls I have;
West wall- Boys are like slinkys, useless, but fun to watch fall down stairs. Every rose has thorns. To put it nicely, I hope you choke. My dads phone number from when he was in Texas. A list of my favorite books. When I got really mad at my step dad Iwrote on my wall in runes about why I was mad. a drawing of a rose. We're all ad here. The lyrics to Thinking of You by Katy Perry. A bunch of old stickers. A ceramic fairy I named Fred. A origami valentine the exchange student gave me for Valentines day after I have her a valentine written in Japanese.
South Wall- under my window: Do not close window if open. You cannot soar like an eagle on the wings of a wren. You are a china shop I am a bull, you are a good mean, I am full.
East wall- a giant angel... well, less of an angel, more of a girl with wings. Too much writing to put down.
North wall- that's my closet. I have some Latin on my doors, and the entire "Anyone lived ina pretty how town" by ee commings.
Okay. Oh, and a twilight poster with 3D glasses taped to Bella's face.
Okay, so, I'm going to sleep now. Night!

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Bad Feeling

I have a really bad feeling. A really really bad feeling.
It could be because I'm going back to school this week or the next for the first time since my surgery.
It could be because well everyone else is trying to put my life back together, I feel like all they're doing to taping a broken skylight back together. Soon enough, its gonna rain and its going to break again, falling all over you.
It could be because my best friend's symptoms seem to be getting worse and worse every day, and all she can think about is that she needs to cancel her MRI because she's going to have to miss one Pre-Cal class for it.
It could be because my mom seems to be heading towards the nervous breakdown she nearly had last year.
It could be because I woke up this morning to my stepdad telling my sister, "How dare you threaten me with a knife!" I go to the kitchen to see my sister holding a butter knife with jam on it because she was making herself toast with jam when he came in to talk to her.
It could be because I'm in so much pain I can barely walk.

It could be any one of these reasons, but I still feel like something is going to happen. Its felt like the world has been holding its breath just waiting.
God, I sound insane I bet. But I swear, something is wrong.