Saturday, December 08, 2001

You're Better Than I Want To Be


I am determined that this will be good-spirited and not so blah and down on myself. I'm so full of self-pity I make myself sick. You see where this is already going? So, I did cut myself last night. I needed to. Sort of a closure thing for me. I feel once again that a new part of my life is coming out. Maybe because I've been acting so nostalgic lately. I picked up a very well worn book of mine (Collected Poems by W.H. Auden) that was formerly my uncle's, given to my dad, stolen by me and as far as I'm concerned it's mine. I haven't picked it up in quite some time. Funny the things you remember. I could still recite a poem that I memorized in seventh grade, that I had to recite in front of my english class in eighth grade (to which my english teacher asked me why I read something so...depressing. ha.) I won't bore you with the whold thing, but the last two stanzas went like this:

He was my North, my South, my East, my West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now:put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

I also read the first 15 chapters of Pride and Prejudice today (I'm enjoying it mucho) and started that book by Dean Koontz. I feel almost productive, but compelled to write. So, anyways, I was also taking a trip down memory lane by going through my old notebooks. I've kept a written journal since February (2001), and it's really depressing to see how miserable and sad I was. I'm sure most people didn't see me as being like that, but I was really sad inside, and I don't like being like that. I like being optimistic and happy. *sigh* So, no more sad entries, okay?

I dreamed of warm kisses and marshmellows and sexy scarlet red impossibly stilhettoed stripper shoes. I need a warm kiss right now, marshmellows wouldn't be too bad, and who doesn't need a pair of sexy stripper shoes? I will admit, I lust for those shoes that you know you could never wear because nothing in your wardrobe is that scandelous, nor do you have any place to wear it, and nor do you have the pain threshold to stand in them for more than a half hour. If I'm ever rich I will have a room devoted to those shoes so I can have sex in them, becuase, hey, you don't have to be standing for sex.

So, no more sadness. Ha. I refuse to be unhappy, how about that for being stubborn? I'm getting along really happily with Nic. I'm not head over heals with him, there isn't this incredible passion between us that finally has escaped, he's not forbidden nor dangerous nor an asshole. In short, he's not like most of my exes :) And I think that's A-okay. Actually, it's more than okay. My soap opera life is on hold for a while. As I was saying, Nic is good for me.

But I keep listening to Nickelback. "this time I'm mistaken, for handing you a heart worth breaking." I wonder if my heart is worth being broken? I don't know, I don't really care right now. I want to grow up and be old and make pies for everyone. This chick in the Dean Koontz book, at the begining they introduce her as the Pie Lady that no one could have ill will towards because she made pies for everyone and was such a good person. She was forgiving and kind and optimistic and saw the good in everyone. Then of course her husband was killed, she almost lost her baby, and her baby is destined to have to face an evil as bad as satan. But I like to think that that's just Dean Koontz being nutty. After all, karma right? Well, I know the baby will win out in the end, but...he shouldn't have to go through with the battle because he has such good karma from his mom. Then again, I wouldn't have a book to read.

I need to stop being such a nerd. I can't help it. I love books, I cherish them. They've got a special place in my heart. In geometry we were talking and this girl Angie, used to be a good friend of mine until I had a falling out with her crowd, anyways, she's always checking out what book I'm reading and I have a new book every few classes (as, that's how I tend to spend my geometry class: reading). She asked me, "brittany, how many books do you think you've read? like...200?" I laughed. I have no idea how many books I've read (although I almost wish I did. I wish I could own every book I've ever read), but I'm so sure it's more than 200. God I'm a dork. Anyways, tomorrow my mom and brother and I are going to the library. I haven't been for...like...6 months. But...there are some books I hope to check out that I can't seem to find at any bookstore. See, I loved my library until I realized that there were all these kinds of books that my library didn't have. Then I hated it for not being cool enough for me. But it has these three books. One that I didn't have enough guts to check out on my mom's card last time we went (well, it's got a bright pink cover with two pairs of female-legs on the cover, and it starts off with this lesbian picking up a girl in a bar and the amazing crazy sex they had and how one of them became absolutely infatuated with the other. That's as far as I got, but I'm dying to finish it), and then a few books from my childhood I'd like to reread.

I find it curious that I'm being so nostalgic. Nic said he felt like a 5 year old because when he was 5 he didn't hate anyone because he didn't really care. Something like that. I also found out that he and Duck apparently broke up at Blueberry Hill. How sad :( See, their math teacher thinks they're quite queer together, which I think is funny because Nic is sooo not Duck's type. But hey. Duck thinks that Nic is like a gay actor who always plays gay guys. Now, I'll leave you guys with one last poem by Mr. Auden before I go indulge in my other morbid obsession (psychotic killers. Do you think that's healthy?)

All of us believe
we were born of a virgin
(for who can imagine
his parents copulating?)
and cases are known
of pregnant Virgins,
But the Question remains,
from where did Christ get
that extra chromosome?

*pixie goes off clicking her heels*

Friday, December 07, 2001

I can’t do it I can’t do it I can’t do it. I hate this. I got off the computer and tried to read my mom’s new Dean Koontz book but it just doesn’t appeal to me. Right now I can’t deal with that style of writing. Blah. So I went to sleep, I kept waking up and turning on my music louder and louder until I slept for three hours peacefully. Then I woke up and just lay in bed, hearing the music pounding in my brain. I know what this means…the only times I ever listen to loud pounding music is before I cut. God I miss cutting, I miss hurting myself. I miss seeing blood trickle down my skin, I miss my scabs and my scars and cutting deeper and deeper and wider and wider until I start to wonder how can I be so thick? Until my fingers start to tingle because I’m losing circulation to them. I miss it and I want it and I need it. I need to be able to stop feeling, I need to be able to take all my anger out on my body so I can be left being nice and sweet. (oh, another thing about Robert, he never ever treated me like a naive child, he never believed it).

I dream of blood and vampires and dark monsters ripping out tortured souls. I feel so empty inside, and I don’t know why, and every day it’s getting harder to live.
Didn't have a chance to go on the library computers today because first break I was busy helping Jessica stalk this girl that she's lusting after (it all started because she had a NIN patch on her back pack), and second break was quite icky. I gave Duck a note I wrote, because we're both being driven nutso by the same person so we've been talking about that and it's good for me. I know I can talk to him and not feel like a bad person because I've had less than fuzzy thoughts for this person. And that's half the reason I try not to bitch, because I'm so convinced that if I do then I'll be a bad person. So...we're in the girl's dressing room and the bell rings and Robert walks in and Duck leaves so I talk to Robert. I need to explain one thing about this situation here. Nic isn't too fond of Robert because Robert told Nic that he would do everything he could to break us up because he's still in love with me. So...I wrote Robert an e-mail asking him why he said what he said to Nic (at the time, I didn't know the whole thing he told Nic. He told me that he told Nic that he wouldn't be depressed if we broke up. It wasn't until today that I found out what he actually said).

So...anyways...Robert walks in and I'm like, dude, you never e-mailed me back. And he was like...well, you said you were grounded so I figured that you wouldn't be able to read it, so I figured I'd just talk to you in person.

So we talked...and he asked me how me and Nic were and I said good and he was like "I'm sorry" and we talked. He apologized for what happened with the whole Jude/Robert/Me thing, and he explained his feelings and how he thought that there was a chance for Jude and him, but he's glad it all happened because it made him see that there really wasn't a chance with Jude. And he apologized for fucking up with me. We hugged and I started walking to class and Nic was around the corner. Boy, he was pissed. Incredibly pissed and angry.

He called me and we talked about it. He just doesn't feel safe in his place with me. But, like I told him, Robert wants me but Nic has me, so why is he worried? He just feels really threatened and he thinks Robert's an asshole. I told him that Robert did something special for me a while ago and because of that he'll always have a place in my heart. He told me that he's not all happy-jolly with me hanging out and talking with Robert but he wouldn't stop me.

So...what did Robert do? Back when I had my second to last bout of cutting (over 30 times on my forearm) Robert was one of the first people to see. He actually went and checked and looked for them because he knew I'd done it before. And the look in his eyes, and the way his voice talked to me, I knew he cared. And he *really* cared, he looked so full of pain for me. There are very few people in my life that I've thought truly cared about me. Absolutely truly. Even with some of my best friends and family, I know they love me, I know they care about me somewhat, but I don't think they truly care. With him it was like, no doubt. And it was that look in his eyes that made me not be so scared, and that's why he has a special place in my heart and why I know that he can do asshole things, but he's not an asshole.

I don't blame him for doing and saying everything he does, not really. I mean, if you thought you loved someone, if you thought that you really really loved someone, wouldn't you do everything you could to be with them? So, I can't blame him for thinking that he loves me and wanting to do all he can to be with me. But Nic doesn't see it so he can blame him, lol.

So...that's sorta it. I ate a lot today. Well, not a lot compared to what I would usually eat, but a lot. I've been feeling very sensual and sexual lately. I made the most kickass skirt today and I now have the most kickass outfit. I took this dress I have that I got many a year ago from Miss Pink. It has potential, but it's sooo not my style. So I cut it into two parts, top and bottom. Then I threaded ribbon through the top to make a drawstring. Next I cut the slits (it already had two low side-slits) up to mid-thigh. It's black, and I wore it today with my boots, black tight top underneath my blue lace camisole. It was very cute.

I've been having these mind boggling orgasms as of late. I'm glad, I missed my libido. I've determined that the best thing about sex is being naked, and the best thing about being naked is the way it makes you feel about your body. I've been air-drying myself after my showers, and hanging out naked I'm so much more comfortable with my body now then I used to be. I'm glad I don't think of sex the way most people do. I don't think you need to be nor should you necesarily be in love with someone to have sex with them. I think having sex with your friends can have benefits and bring you closer to them. Sharing your body with someone is a really great thing, but people don't do it enough.

So everyone, go have sex this weekend, ey? And think of me. Pixie

Thursday, December 06, 2001

A few words. Daughters Of The Moon by Lynne Ewing is a really good book series. It’s about these four girls with special powers that are goddesses and have to save the world from a horrible evil. I know, it sounds cheesy and overdone but I think they’re way cool. Just the fact that they mention Special K and cutting and Okie Dogs makes it one of the best series I’ve ever found. (Special K: a drug for cats, used recreationally by humans, not very popular in fiction books. Cutting: they mention blood sports (water sports is to urine as blood sports is to blood) and these people lose all the hope in their life and they cut themselves to feel. Okie Dogs: bean burrito hot dogs mentioned in Francesca Lia Block books).

Next: Marilyn Monroe is an awesome singer. “Santa baby, just slip a present under the tree for me, been an awful good girl, santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight”. You want to wrap her voice around you so you can be surrounded by her mezmerizing sound.

Finally: I’m really emotional right now I think. I’m listening to songs and they’re making me tear up. Must be the moon or something. I can’t wait to get my guitar (I’m getting one for christmas, yippee). Tomorrow I’m going to be crazy and ask Nic if he finds me attractive. It’s a stupid question, I know, but it spawns from a mixture of low-self esteem, irrational fears, and doubt. I have to ask. Although when I actually start to write about what’s up with me and him well…he thinks he’s in love with you. According to Vivi he is absolutely head over heals for me. We write poetry to each other and everything is just really great.

Some songs I recommend:
Marilyn Monroe – Santa Baby
Train – Drops of Jupiter
Bush – Glycerine
Killing Heidi – Live Without It
Jane’s Addiction – Jane Says

Sometimes everything is so beautiful it makes me want to cry. Sometimes the world is so hateful it makes me want to cry. And sometimes I’m just beside myself with emotioin.
Long time no talk, ey? Yeah. Blah, I wish I had time to tell you all the things that have been happening. I’m so sick of being here at home, it sucks, I look forward to school. I’m just being pretty blah in general about my life, every day my mom has made me cry. It sucks. I’ve been being really short and bitchy with my friends but I can’t help it because….well…I just can’t. It’s just how I’ve been feeling and my friends have been pissing me off, some of them. I don’t know, any of you, I’m sorry, it’s just everything is blah right now. I don’t know, there’s just one of them, and she has just made a few comments that really upset me because I thought that someone in her position wouldn’t say things like that, and it’s just been bugging me. Of course I didn’t say anything to her because I’m not like that. It just upsets me that I’m so blah and upset and that I’m letting my home life effect my school life. I try I try so hard not to be like that, I’m the happy perky perfect untouchable pixie. That’s the persona I try to project and it’s just not been working out lately. Tomorrow I’ll go to the library (if it’s open) on the breaks and I’ll type up all about me and Nic getting together (and that’s going pretty well, although I’ve had some doubts but doesn’t everyone? All my friends love him and think he’s the best for me), and I’ll type up how I got in trouble…yeah, all that good stuff. If the library is open and if I have time. I’m going to Barnes and Nobles with my dad, maybe I’ll steal something and make myself feel better. *sigh * I’m sorry, I hate myself for being like this, for being so unhappy. Fortunatly there have been a precious few of my friends keeping me sane. And Harry Potter. I’ll tell ya’ll all about my Harry Potter obsession too. Hey, guess what? On December 17 it’s my 3 month anniversary and I can submit my diary to the other diary critic. Neato, isn’t it? Pixie

Monday, December 03, 2001

I am sick and tired of coming home and being interregated about my day, I am sick and tired of coming home and getting a twenty minute questioning of where I've been and what I've been doing and who I've been with. I am sick and tired of having everything I say questioned and doubted. I got hit in the face today with a hockeystick. It hurt. I bled. I practically killed myself playing hockey because I was so competitive, running up and down the court, killing myself, it was a good way to hurt myself without really doing it. Because physically it hurts, but it doesn't leave any marks. Quite frankly, right now, I'm sick and tired of living. My life is pointless. I look foward to going to school, I dread coming home. I stay locked up in my room so I don't have to deal with anyone or anything and sleep as much as possible to get away from it all. Why do I feel like this is middle school all over again? I know this sounds horrible and needy and wah-wah-pity-me, but...it would just be easier if I were dead. It would save my parents a hell of a lot of money. It would save my friends the hassle of putting up with me, it would save people the hassle of avoiding me and not talking to me, it would save my brother because he'd never have to worry about hearing "you're just like you're sister" if he ever dares to mess up. It would save everyone. And it would save me, from having to come home wondering if my mom has figured out a place to send me away. It would save me from having to hear the silence from my dad - he still hasn't talked to me. It would save me from all these horrible feelings I've had that make me hate myself more for feeling them. This is my fault, it is all my fault my fault my fault, I have no right to feel angry or mad or bitchy or anything. My Fault. It would save me from the hate that I have for myself.

unfortunatly, I don't trust myself to really kill myself and i don't do things half-assed.

Sunday, December 02, 2001

I'm in major trouble. Instead of going to the concert we (me, Vivi, and Nic) went to Roma's (a little cafe reminiscent of my days of queer youth group) and I got caught in some lies. To all of you that haven't been able to talk to me: I am okay and alive, but I'm in deep deep shit. My dad hasn't talked to me yet, there was a bad scene with my mom. Mostly about how it was all she could do not to kick the shit out of me and how she was going to take all my shit and throw it on the front lawn, douse it in gasoline and burn it all, how she was too good of a mother to deserve that, how she couldn't live like this and how it was all she could do not to kick the shit out of me.

What's going to happen to me? Unknown. It's pretty clear though that I'm not allowed on the phone or comp (no one is home so I'm doing this from my bro's comp, all future posts will be from school, I can't check my mail so if you want to talk to me do it through my guestbook). My mom is not happy with me living here so...we'll see what happens. I gtg.