Film

She kneels in front of us all, face earnest as she focuses on me - "I'm worried about you, Emma." Well go be fucking worried! Don't tell me in front of the entire cast how my depressing writing worries you - don't hold me! - and now you look half-scared. Something in my furious mind must have leaked into my face.

You judged my film first without even seeing it. I say "I made a film!" and I expect to be congratulated on my creativity and bravery, on sharing a part of my with so many, but no! Instead "I'm worried about you." How am I supposed to open up to you in front of so many others? Is this anything other than a power show?

I expected more of you - but I guess I shouldn't've, not after the last time I opened up to you.

holy shit I just read http://www.wattpad.com/4456825-letters-to-jen-one all the way from the start to the finish and there are tears in my eyes please go read it i don't think ive been this touched by a story in a very long time

just

read it

letter to ___ (1)

i've been trying and trying to figure out how to write this for weeks now

subconsciously and consciously rewriting and editing and changing and deleting over and over and over

it won't be perfect

but then again

neither am i

i think ill be writing a few more of these

thats why i numbered it already

i can only go so far without breaking

but i guess you know that

this should really be part of the letter shouldnt it

oh well

i guess the letters a fuckup too

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

dear ___

i wont say your name here but i know (for now) who you are

okay look so i realised how much i hate myself, being myself, today

i can't

b

r

e

a

t

h

e

and i hate myself

and my stomach fucking hurts and i know why and if you were here you would too

i hate who ive become

i hate that it's just a lie

i hate

hate

h

a

t

e

not being able to -

i shant finish that thought

ive been thinking of awful things

doing awful things

not just to me to other people

i feel like i have

i feel so many things you have no idea, ___

im so scared

im scared

im scared of getting hurt again

im scared of not letting myself get hurt again

im afraid of failure

i failed yesterday, did i tell you?

cause i definitely told you id be able to keep up my 'winning streak' of passing everything

i guess i fucked up

i guess i am a fuckup

because maybe someone who wasnt a complete waste of space wouldnt hate themselves so fucking much

and i know i know i know i could actually go tell you all this (online)

but im scared

i want to be able to cry

but i cant because my parents might find me and i cant show emotion i have to be strong why does no one REALISE THIS

i wish i wasnt me

i wish i wasnt around

i wish i trusted someone who wasnt several fucking years older than me and was dealing with too many things to be able to cope with mine

i wish

i wish

i wish i wasnt a fuckup

i wish there was a button i could press and it would just remove every memory of my existence

i wish i wasnt me

love
_______

Piano

She is playing the piano again. Her fingers find familiar notes and my ears prick up, though I do not look. Cannot look. She plays the song I do not - cannot - listen to and I want to cry.

Because of your words and hate I grew to hate a song I adored. When our song comes on I have to turn it off or run. My brain enacts the flight or fight rule, and more often than not I run like I always have done. We took a song we loved alone and loved it together. I learnt to play it for you as well as for me. Even though it was my weakest piece you still claimed to love it.

After we broke apart, like the meteorites that fly together for a few months then leave for the dizzying emptiness and blackness of space, I stopped playing the piano altogether. My social life is like their space: I wander lonely like a cloud, trying to ignore things that remind me of us, what we had. So when my friend plays our song, I do not tell her why it makes me sad. I just tell her that it hurts deep inside, and she knows not to ask further.

She hasn't stopped playing our song. I haven't stopped listening.

Update 3

Had my biggest and longest panic attack to date today. Maybe half an hour of various levels of terror, panic, and crying.

I'm not... in a good headspace right now.

As well as exams, I'm having panic attacks, I'm in two productions, I'm trying my damned hardest to study, friends are constantly social or depressed or both or fucked up in SOME way. I'm also working on a slam poem which I probably won't post up here because I'm pretty protective of this one.

I'm keeping on trying to write because it's quite therapeutic, but... we'll see how it goes.

Update 2

I feel like I've not been writing enough lately, and what I have been writing is pretty shit really. I'll get back on it eventually. I could blame exams but that's lazy. Sorry guys.

These Are A Few Of My Favourite Pieces

Because I wanted to know which I should share with people if they ask. For my own reference, but I guess it'd be nice for you all to see which pieces I'm most proud of?

The Floods
Love II
I Am Human And So
Haiku IV
water droplets for words
Dear Harriet, Love Amber
Love I
Broken Me and Broken You

Actually, that's weird! I say "Nah, I don't write poetry" then only two of the pieces I'm most proud of are fiction! Huh.

Readers? Are you out there?

So go on. Tell me who you are! I pour my heart out here. The latest stats for this blog: 22 visits from NZ, 9 from America, and 4 from France. There've been people from all over. Canada too at one point I think. A couple of you I've actually given the link to this, let them look at every inch of me. Some I regret. Others I'm glad. I'll leave it up to you to figure out which category you fit into.

So leave me a comment, kay? It can be anonymous or whatever, but I want to know - who you are (optional of course (like all of this)), where you come from, if I gave you this link or not, and why you're reading this, if you've been reading for a while or just stumbled across it, and which the post that most resounded with you/you liked the most is.

For me?

The Floods

Barely contained terror tide
wells up and floods my walls.
Panic engulfs this
typhoon-tossed leaf.
Swept hither against my will,
these waters will not settle.
I shove my sandbag shelter,
praying for a hole, a crack.
My walls are solid sand -
mountain 'strong' am I.
Harmonies soothe my turmoil,
calm and peace is mine for now.
The sandbags always loom higher.
The monsoons always return.

I think I'm breaking.

No, breaking is too hard and fast a word for the emotions - or lack thereof - I'm feeling. It's more like crumpling, like an internal implosion. You know that delicious feeling you get when you slowly crumple a piece of paper down to flatness, when you crush a can? Demolition is in our natures, only sometimes, others don't even know they're hurting us. Sometimes I don't even know I'm hurting myself until it's too late.

Over the past week, I've had at least five people come up to me, just randomly as we pass each other, to ask if I'm alright, if I'm okay, if I'm fine. I force a smile, say "yes" or some variation with just enough emotion, and then continue. It's not like I can talk about feelings face to face. It's too weak of me. [UPDATE: I was smiling and someone still asked me if I was okay.]

I've been avoiding people at school, yet desperately seeking them out. I wish I could tell them all to go away, while I hope desperately they'll ignore me.

I've been stupid lately. I have too many scars from everything I've been through, both inside and out. Only one person has even come close to figuring it out. No one will. They didn't last time, or the time before that. I have to tell people for then to notice. And I won't.

It's really strange. I feel more perfect that I ever have before, but I feel more hopeless and useless and despondent and worthless than I have for a few days. These feelings come and go, and somedays it's all I can do to hold the mask in place, while I hope so much someone will notice the mask and ask better questions. After all, does anyone really expect an answer other than "okay" or "fine"?

Stop asking. Stop asking if I'm alright because I'm not. I'm breaking. No - crumpling.