Ally? (SUI Trig)

Eyes darting around the bathroom...nothing in sight. I run water in the sink, clearing all the evidence and removing every trace, more out of habit than because I feel the need to hide, I’m not sure I care enough in this moment. I turn and move along the passage back into my room, pausing only at the window to notice that my mum’s car is gone- and no one else will be home for at least a couple of hours, my brother always has extracurricular stuff. He’s always been so much better than me, and now I’m glad. Reaching my room I close the door behind me and hit the button on my CD player, pumping out the new ministry of sound CD at full volume. I go back to my chest, breath catching in my throat as I see the bare spot where my jar would have been if I’d had the courage for this before, at least I know my mum hates me now. No remorse there. I try to convince myself I’m not trying to commit suicide...I’m just going for my blade same as usual, it was probably time for a new one anyway...who wants’ an infection right, it’s got nothing to do with how sharp it is. Surely the universe will forgive me if I accidentally go too far? Can’t believe I’m trying to rationalise this, but I am.

I locate the blade and climb onto my bed, feeling the beat of the music pulse through my veins as I struggle to keep my hands steady. I won’t have the courage for this more than once; blood has always triggered my urge to stem the flow, to fix whatever’s bleeding. I align the blade, for a second I almost laugh...how many times friends have joked with me “if you’re trying to kill yourself; it’s down the street not across the road”. Raising my hand, I bring the blade down onto exposed wrist, pulsing red. I slump back against the pillows; all I can see is red. Red staining my sheets, red ruining my school uniform, and red leaking onto the floor...but what does it matter? I try to sit up, I’ll have to fix this...the world spins and I fall back, everything fading black at the edges. I drift out of consciousness, my last movement to feebly pull the sheets over the top of me with my good hand...wouldn’t want to disappoint you mum, wouldn’t want James to find me...

“Rose!” the voice is distorted, wavering around me as I try to focus, “Rose, stay with me honey, I’m Alys” Something inside me responds, Alys? She’s important right? Ally! “Rose I’m a paramedic, you’re going to be fine but I need you to look at me ok?” No I groan in a soft voice, I shouldn’t have listened, of course it’s a paramedic... a mere coincidence in names doesn’t change that. What is this; this isn’t how it’s meant to be. Throbbing pain seems to have overtaken my left side and I feel appalling. Heavy head and nauseated...what’s going on? I thought I’d be gone by now. My body is jostled, lifted slightly, but I don’t care...I’m already fading.

Once more...and I'll love you (for now)

My legs start to tremble; I can feel the blood retreating from my extremities, leaving me cold and pale. I slowly tip over, unable to unlock my muscles even to save myself, the floor rushes towards me as I sag down onto it. Tears building behind my eyes, I try to blink the thin film away, will it away. I don’t cry. And yet, I can feel the tears quivering in my eyes, ready to fall, I roll over and wobble unsteadily to my feet...heading for the bathroom. As I step onto the cool white tiles I swing the door shut behind me, sealing myself in this glaringly white chamber, I walk to the sink and grip its edges staring into my reflection in the mirror above. Void eyes, wild and full of moisture, mouth pressed in a thin line, edges wavering with the attempt to force the emotion down. This kind of...uncontrollability isn’t practical.

I raise my hand until it’s almost touching the glass, and then direct it back towards me, all but two fingers pointed down. I bury them towards the back of my throat, feeling the spongy tissue as I force them further to reach the spot at which I hear the click at the back of my throat- and have to pull my fingers out as quickly as possible. Better, I feel more controlled already. Hearing the voices whisper soothingly...nearly enough, that’s nearly enough, I’ll love you if you can do it again. One more and you’ll be worth something.  I retch until the tears come to my eyes...but these aren’t weak tears, shed unwillingly out of frustration and upset at an immovable situation...no, these are practiced tears, tears that were entirely anticipated.

I sink down onto the cool tiles, resting my head against the bath, watching the tears drip down onto the school skirt I’m still wearing though it feels as if I’ve barely been there today.  I can feel myself breaking apart...the shreds of control I've managed to grasp at floating away from me. I stumble back to my feet, unable to sit still, unable to think...I know what I need...but my jar is gone. Mind racing into overdrive, searching for the solution, I begin to pace in an absent minded way.

Mortified

Somewhat unsure about this part, I think I may have spent too long on her mum yelling, probably fewer words would have sufficed, but I'll leave them there for now. RJxo

“How could you even think about doing this Rose? How could you even consider...after all your father and I have done for you. Haven’t we told you a hundred times how this is no way out! It’s cowardly Rose, and it’s selfish and deep down I’d like to think you knew that!! What did you think was going to happen?! How could you ever see this as a good way...what if your brother had found you! He’s only young...at any rate he’d probably be completely traumatised. Would you ruin his life!? Would you ruin ALL our lives? You’re such a selfish girl...I don’t know where you came from at all...” I stand silently, watching the ground as her tirade rolls over me; I am completely...mortified to be in this situation. Yes, mortified sounds exactly right, almost as if I’ve turned to granite where I stand, as if my family can walk past me in the coming days and hang their coats on my immobile form. I can hear the slight buzz of her words but my mind’s filtering them out, focusing instead on this compelling image of a granite gargoyle standing poised in the entryway... pondering how on earth my mother would explain that away, involuntarily the left side of my mouth jerks up in a tiny half smile. I hear the slight whistle of air and recognise my mistake almost instantly, her hand catches me across the face, jerking my head back slightly “What the hell do you think you’re smiling about?! Just, get out of my sight. I can’t look at you anymore.” That’s all I need, I run, cheek stinging for my bedroom.

I throw myself down onto the bed and turn my face to the side, “Hi Jaws” I whisper, “I can’t believe how quickly my day just turned”. Reaching up I sprinkle in a small amount of his goldfish flakes, waiting for him to dart to the surface, he seems a little slower than usual, but I’m probably just imagining it. I roll over onto my back and surprisingly feel my mind go heavy with sleep, conscious thought fading with a whisper. I awake only an hour later and almost straight away I begin feeling the emotions grow inside me, swelling up like one of those kids’ toys that inflate on contact with water. I don’t know how but it hadn’t hit me until now, and it already feels unreal, a dream or the memory of a dream on a murky surface. Maybe it didn’t happen at all; maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. I climb stiffly off my bed and kneel before my chest, swinging the heavy lid open; it seems cleaner- uh oh- I reach to the bottom, lifting a fleecy blanket I’ve had since I was tiny. Nothing. My fingers scrabble disbelievingly against the wooden base. It’s gone. It was real, my precious jar is in the hands of my mother...probably gone by now.

Freeze

By the time I retrace my steps through the graveyard and out between the old gates the sun is low in the sky, as I leave with a lighter heart and a pattern of grass imprinted upon my cheek. I enclose myself within the bubble car, reaching to turn on the music for the first time today, my Fine Young Cannibals CD finished the next one cues on- a dodgy mix Ally made me for my birthday last year. The opening of ‘Smack That’ fills my car, and before I know it I’m smiling, imagining us dancing around to this song on a dozen different occasions- each sillier than the last. This CD was titled ‘Top 20 dodgiest songs that are still super addictive’ and the girl had a point...this song is terrible...and yet, strangely compelling, it’s always a party hit. Maybe that’s the only time anyone can safely admit they like it. Whatever the case, I bounce home within the little car; my mind is still humming with the song as I step through the front door- only to be stopped in my tracks.

I freeze. Every trace of the warmth I’ve cultivated this afternoon vanishing as instantaneously as if a snowy drift had suddenly blown across the landscape of my life. My eyes are fixed on the one focal point. Seeing nothing but the colours. Oh the colours, my mother is framed by the light spilling from the kitchen behind her, and in her hands is my jar. In this instant I feel as if she is holding my soul or at the very least my future, my plan b.

“Care to explain this, Rose?” Her voice is hard; I almost don’t hear the tremor as her voice wavers over my name.  I gaze up at her; rooted to the spot when I so desperately want to run, I am but a hare trapped in the headlights that is her powerful gaze. “Wh-where did you get that?” is all I can manage to stammer out, it may be ludicrous but this is all my mind can focus on. Who or what has brought my world crashing down, my facade unravelling before my very eyes. “The cleaner found it today, she thought it would be nice to dust out that chest at the bottom of your bed since it never gets cleaned at all...naturally she called me the moment she unearthed this...what were you thinking Rose? What are you thinking?!” “I just...I just needed to know....be sure....just...in case...you know...I...wanted...I wasn’t trying to hurt you...” I realise I’m making no sense and trail off; leaving the way clear for the lecture I know is coming.

Medium

I press a wad of toilet paper to the straight red lines, shuddering as I wonder how unhygienic this is, I’ll have to clean them when I get home. A shower, some breathable plaster and a dab of Bactroban ought to assure that I won’t have to fess up due to something as uncontrollable as infection. Or face the thought of allowing an infection to spread. It’s miraculous I’ve never had an infection before, all things considered...I guess there are advantages to growing up in a medical household after all, I’ve always known how to treat my own minor injuries. I guess no parent who spends their working hours stitching up people who’ve had run ins with electric tools, other people, cars and so much worse, really has the patience to patch up a child with a skinned knee.

Eventually I emerge from the cubicle, washing my hands I glance up at the girl in the mirror, cheeks flushed and hair escaping her hasty ponytail she looks slightly excited. For a second she almost looks pretty, but then I glance back properly, staring her full in the face, and it’s just me- and I’m still ugly. I scrub at my fingernails to assure that they are completely clear of blood, it reminds me of last year when we studied Macbeth at school and Lady Macbeth was going insane trying to wash the blood from her hands, crying to herself oh will they ever be clean. Although she had murdered an innocent in cold blood I find myself identifying...will I ever truly be free of the blood stains on my hands and blade? I shake my head, watching my reflection blur slightly as I try to physically force these thoughts from my mind and push open the heavy swing door, forcing my way back out into a world I don’t even really want to be in.

I stoop to retrieve my pencil case, I didn’t even realise I’d dropped it on the way in here- a little too disassociated from my dash down here I suppose. As I walk along the now deserted pathways I am acutely aware of everything from the unsympathetic sun burning down on top of my hair and the slight breath of wind caressing my hypersensitive skin, to the rough material of my school skirt brushing against fresh cuts and the slight weight of a blade in my pocket.  I head for the student car park, at least in exams I don’t have to sit in classes pretending to care about what’s going on, trying to act like I’m not about to run for a bathroom to harm myself, or dissolve into tears thinking about Ally. This is better, as long as I turn up for my exams; no one cares where I am. Hell, I don’t even have to be accountable to my mother. As I reach my car it’s already resolving in my mind where I’m headed, I’ve thought about Ally and that’s it, no coming back from that. I might as well head to a place where I can recognise my grief. A place where if sorrow overwhelms you, no one thinks it’s weird. Where you can sit down to cry for an hour, and talk to someone who’s no longer sharing this world with you- and have it be wholly normal.

Twenty minutes later I pull in at the cemetery, as I tread down the path past the crumbling headstones and faded crosses, I try to imagine the people beneath the ground. You’d think it might be unsettling, thinking of all those bodies beneath me. But it actually feels less lonely. For a fleeting second I wish I could join them, the guilt catches me almost immediately, it’s practically sacrilege to think that here, Ally loved life more than anyone I’ve ever known, she believed it to be a gift and yet it was snatched away from her far too soon. While I, wishing for death almost every day, would live to a ripe old age if this universe has anything to do with it. Whoever’s watching over us sure has a taste for irony, vengeful bastard. What did I ever do? What did Ally ever do wrong..? I believe love- or more specifically loss- turns us all into believers, believers in something anyway, before her death I would have proudly counted myself as an atheist. And now here I sit, conversing with a girl who, if I was right before, is nothing but a breakdown of organic compounds. Despite the beliefs I’ve held for years about the rational nature of this world, I lie on the grass and talk to her more than I’ve spoken to anyone all week.

Scarlet tears

Another update, hope it's ok. Contains self harm so stay safe. Oh and guys I started a new blog at: http://www.r-jay-thegirlbehindthemask.blogspot.com/ just because I feel funny ranting about my feelings in the middle of my story, and 'Every Rose has it's thorn' has taken over her for the forseeable future. I realised I could have a second blog under the same name so why not :). Take care, RJx

Tapping my pen, I sit with my legs crossed, foot twitching in mid air, hitting against the desk leg. Yes, I’m one of those annoying people. When I’m in an exam, I fidget, a lot. Today’s exam is humanities...so easy, I’m not even doing any work at the moment and this subject is still blatantly obvious. It makes me wonder how people manage to fail?! I mean what do they do, draw our teacher pictures? I skim through the questions, yes it definitely all looks easy, but I can’t get my head in the game...come ON Rose, but no I’m drifting, watching out the window at the tiny grade three’s playing a game of something in physical education. I swear I was never that small, or that innocent, or that carefree. As if to emphasise my point my fidgeting causes my skirt to bump against my side, hard blade nudging into my leg, it’s surprisingly heavy for something so little...the weight of expectations I guess. Today it feels more compelling than ever...usually just being at school, well anywhere near people, is enough to make me disregard the urge. But today it’s persistent, stinging my mind over and over again with the same thoughts.

“Rose...write honey, you’re running out of time!” Oh crap, you know it’s bad when the teacher has to start reminding you to work during an exam, but I’m way to focused now, I can practically see those small bloody lines behind my eyelids, those small lines that will fix everything, halt the world and stop time rushing by me so fast I don’t even see it passing by- if only for a second. I glance at the clock, only twelve minutes left, whether I answer all these questions or not I’m out of here soon. I re-read the last question and begin scribbling a hasty answer to the vague statement about sustainable living, just as I finish the call comes “pens down...pens down...that means STOP writing Katie” echoes our teachers weary voice around the cavernous examination room. I’m out of the room the instant my paper is collected, beating a path down the stairs and around the corner to the toilets...no one questions this seemingly mad dash, I’ve been shut in an exam room for two hours after all. I slam my way into a cubicle, reaching into my pocket for the favourite blade I know is hidden inside. Sighing I watch the fluorescent lights glint off its bright and promising surface, now that I’m here I don’t actually need the instant gratification, I’m happy to watch it for a moment, pressed against my skin in a macabre portrait. But then the urge returns and I drag it raggedly across my skin, for a second I can’t see anything, and then the little beads of blood rise to the surface, spilling over the edges to seep down my leg- only to be caught on the waiting tissue before they can drip to the bathroom floor. My scarlet tears pool on the light tissue, replacing the true tears I seem unable to cry they slowly stain it red.

New Day Rising

When I finally drift off that night my mind is filled with swirling colours, patterning my skin with all the colours I have gathered in my jar, as I struggle to travel incognito through my dream world...but something’s wrong. It’s not as easy as it usually is, I feel like the mask is slipping...just as I begin to feel unsettled, I snap awake. Disoriented I watch my ceiling fan spin, what was happening in my dream? Uh, it’s fading fast already. I vaguely remember not fitting in...Oh what’s new, stop thinking about it already.

As I lay awake I feel suffocated by my duvet, I can feel the panic rising as I kick my way free and lie panting under the turning fan, and my mind is reaching already. I can practically feel it dragging towards topics I just don’t want to think about. Going through this afternoon was enough, I’d finally gotten to sleep, so it seems cruel fate for me to have to face it again- but now I’m up I might as well deal with it. There’ll be no rest til I face it down and win. It probably doesn’t seem like a lot, a mother raving about her pride in her daughter as she has gone through her final year of schooling with so much happening, without giving in to her less healthy ways of coping. Well that’s how she sees the reality of the situation. Only I know better, only I know how well I can really pretend...

A moment of weakness had overwhelmed me, listening to the praise was finally too much “I’m not alright ok!” I’d snapped “I’m not perfect and brilliant and always relaxed!”... “I’m falling apart! Why can’t you fucking see that I am broken?!” Oh no, I’d regretted it instantly but what could I do, the seeds of destruction were out there, I’d have to explain what I’d meant somehow. Eventually I could find no better way to elucidate what I had meant by ‘broken’ than to tug up my sleeve and flip over my arm, exposing to my mum my pale inner arm, and along with it, my darkest secret. The one I had held within my heart, heavy as a stone, for the past year.  

But she thought all that was over, I went willingly enough to the psychologist...and soon this supposedly highly qualified doctor pronounced me fine, I didn’t need to go back, I was ‘better’. Until that day, I never really knew how well I could pretend. As far as my mum was concerned we’d dealt with that, and we’d buried it in the past. Just something else to make me a stronger person. When really, I was so much weaker I was just a tremor away from shattering into a million and one pieces. And that tremor, turned out to be her speech on pride. No one ever warns you enough about words...sure you learn from an early age that you can hurt people with words, that you can tear them down, that you can humiliate and expose people with words. But you want to know the secret? You know what they don’t tell you about words? The most dangerous words of all are the ones we speak with good intentions. With a whispered I love you a partner can be dragged unwillingly into something they weren’t keen on, your sincere I’ll miss you could be unknowingly preventing your sister from moving away, and a truthful speech of pride from a parent- well that can make you feel like dying, because you know it’s just not true. And if they love you for a persistence, courage and strength you just don’t possess...how could they possibly care about the shell of a daughter who’ll be left behind when all the lies burst like overinflated balloons, stuffed with the weight of possibilities that they just couldn’t match.

Lying on my back I can see the golden orange sun beginning to rise, hanging low above the horizon as it begins its unhurried daily trek across the wide sky. Seriously, how many times should one person have to see the sun rising in one week!? Twice in two days, that’s just not on. I mean, I know I don’t sleep, but usually I’ll be asleep for four o’clock or so to get a couple of hours before I have to act awake and refreshed for school...or at least, for leaving for school. Stretching I sit up, and swing my legs off the side of the bed, might as well start getting ready, there’s no point doing otherwise at this stage.

Hey Guys,

Just wondering if you got that the bit in italics was a flashback? I'm not too sure about this bit to be honest, I think I'm rambling to much, need to get my storyline running again! Grr. Oh well, for now, words are words. Stay safe, RJx

Chameleon Girl (mild sui trig)

It takes me nearly an hour to exhaust my ideas for that list, ranging from the profound to the most trivial of reasons, like to miss tomorrow’s history exam...ridiculous, and yet still strangely compelling. I grin to myself as I consider how ludicrous that reason would be, this is how I rationalise letting myself write these things down- I’m smiling, aren’t I? Maybe it’s not for the purest of reasons, but I’m smiling, and it’s not fake- and how often does that happen in my life anymore. I’m not hurting myself...not physically at least, so how could this possibly be more damaging than pressing a blade to my skin? It’s not like I’m seriously considering it...am I? I only collect pills so that I can watch the beautiful kaleidoscope of colours, blues, reds, yellows, whites, tans and greens moving over one another, seemingly watching me, full of implications.

It wasn’t like I had a plan, it’s not like i was thinking ‘I’m going to kill myself next Tuesday’, no, I was just plotting for every possible future, making contingency plans. Eventually, someone was going to realise who I really was, and at the rate talk spread in our school, everyone would know within a day...they’d hate me. It would be time. When no one on this earth wanted me around anymore, I’d be ready. My parents tell themselves (and me) that they love me, that they’d be completely lost without me...but is it true? Would they really miss me, would I even miss them? I sense we’re all just refusing to ask those questions, way too afraid of what the answers might be. This afternoon when I’d made my way back home and was sitting at the kitchen counter, elbows propped up and head in my hands, mum said she was “proud” of me...I’m surviving...coping with the pressure so well, I smiled and said thank you. Inside I was crying, I’m such a liar. Could my parents really miss this, this girl who was meant to be me.

It’s too sad to admit out loud. But the shortest list of all was the people who’d miss me if I were gone. Without Ally, I’m too much of a chameleon at school to have true friends, peeling off layers of myself to suit the occasion. Drifting between groups of people, different classes, different settings, different expectations and different looks. I would morph seamlessly to mirror the group I was surrounded by...I was good at it. No question, invisibility was my thing. But that didn’t make me interesting in my own right- only for the people I could imitate. The problem is, no one remembers what colour the chameleon starts out; no one cares whether they’re beautiful, they only have to blend in. Conform or die. High schools a lot like that too, it doesn’t matter who you are, strip it away, leave nothing but a blank canvas and be ready to imprint yourself with the visual and imbued characteristics necessary for survival.

Help me, Hurt me

Thoughts raging. I didn’t know it was possible to have this much hate and anger harboured inside me. Pressing down on me, suffocating me, I need to breathe- I need to escape, even for a minute. And I know how. But...I’m stuck. Trapped in a cage of my own making, in school, around people, without anything to help me, every part of my being is aching for the world to send something, anything, to help me hurt me. Barely conscious within myself I faintly recognise that this plea to the heavens is somewhat ironic. "Rose" I feel a light tug on my arm, "Rose, class is over...it’s time for English". Oh, that's right, the real world is still out there, damn. Although maybe it’s a good thing I’m still in existence and this world is still whirling, because if this entrapment in my mind was death, it would be no escape at all. I can’t bear the thought of sitting through another class, my mind needs action, needs to see something other than the futile images of a whiteboard filled with notes I’ll never learn in time to score well in exams. Almost before I’ve consciously decided to leave I feel my feet pulling towards my locker, mindlessly swinging my book bag up onto my shoulder as I head for the reception where I can sign out. I hit the carpark at nearly a run, my haven and escape in sight; I reach my small blue car and heave the door open in relief. Cueing the CD player, I push the clutch and slide into gear just as ‘Ever fallen in love’ starts up, my mix picking up where it left off on the Fine Young Cannibals this morning.

On the road, maybe I don’t have to go home, in the car I have an abandon for direction which I can never achieve in my life, let’s just see where the road takes me; I gratefully hand over control to the wider universe. The road blurs underneath me, trees flash by in a blur of greenery, this is better, I have to focus- can’t let my demon regain control. There’s still a part of me that wonders how easy it would be to just swerve the car slightly, a quick jerk of my hands could alter fate irreparably...but I can’t do that, even if I wanted to, it’s too uncontrollable, too many variables and way too much to go wrong. I just let the road run together, my mind blurring scenery into a kaleidoscopic mass. I finally make it home, though how I don’t know, my seemingly directionless travel has brought me back here eventually, and it always does.

Later that night, I make lists. One for all the things I still have to do, one for all the reasons I can’t possibly consider clocking out early, and finally the one I daren't admit exists even to myself...one for all the reasons I’d love not to live anymore.

Just me- no story!

Interesting day...mostly good day.
A friend and I started doing operation beautiful at school today (operationbeautiful.com) it was so much fun! I haven't laughed so much in ages. Had way too much fun doing it.
In continuing with the positivity of the day I am spamming you guys with post its- deal with it :D.

Not much else to say to be honest...feeling pretty good...more story soon I promise!
R-Jay xo

My demon

Eventually the soft morning light begins to infiltrate my hiding place, signalling that it’s time to face the world for another day as it slants in across my open books. I slump back against the booth, staring up at the ceiling where dust motes can be seen whirling and dancing against the new light. It’s miraculous to me that something can be ever present and yet one can only see and appreciate it when the position is exactly right to capture its beauty, sometimes people are like that too. Back inside the bubble that is my Honda, I’m on the road home; hopefully I’ll be back before anyone’s even up. I feel okay, and that’s all I want. I feel like I can survive today, so as I steal back into the house and up to my room I don’t think about how I could hurt myself, as the water washes over me in the shower, I don’t feel the need to find a blade, and not even the slight sting of my wounded leg reacting to the hot water can change that.

An hour later I change my mind, my mother has lectured me already and I’m halfway into an awkward class next to someone I used to think I could talk to about anything. I’d give anything to be out of there, give anything to be back in the shower and have my chance all over again. Dimly I register that it’s lucky I’m at school and can do nothing about this, but still the demon inside of me rages, not even fighting to be heard over the babble of my class and drone of the teacher- it eclipses them all. Telling me to escape it all, but there’s nothing I can do, nowhere to run right now. I just have to sit here and hate myself.

Rejection hurts (even when you don't believe in yourself)

Sighing I pull an application for Medicine at Monash University out of my folder and over towards me, I’ll never be accepted there since my grades dropped and yet my parents insist on my applying as if nothing’s happened. As if I’m still the OP 1 student I could have been...the student they wanted me to be. Maybe even the student I wish I was. But I’m not her, so not point crying over it, I’ll fill in these applications, maintaining the facade, but I need to sort out my contingency plans as well. As always I work my way through the standard questions; why do you want to be a medical practitioner? What activities paid or voluntary have you undertaken which demonstrate your desire to study medicine? Any other relevant information? It’s getting typical, and yet as always I stumble over the last question in the medical survey, it’s the opening where you’re meant to admit to mental illness, anxiety problems, self harm definitely falls under this umbrella question...and yet I never do, I can’t bring myself to. I hope that’s not a mistake.

One more down, already I’m anticipating the rejection letter. I know in my heart I’m not good enough, I face down that truth everyday...and yet, I still hate having others inform me I’m not up to scratch. It hurts more deeply than I care to admit, even though I insist it’s only to be expected. The boy from behind the counter stretches and ambles his way towards me, he must be new since I thought I knew everyone who worked here. He smiles as he reaches for my empty cup, the second of the night. I could joke with him about the service, the opening is there and for a second I wonder if this is his intention, if he’s interested and then I remember how he must see me, and I shrink away from the idea of witty one liner retreating instead to the safety of my Biology textbook, my assignment on human evolution won’t write itself and I can’t quite leave the student in me behind enough to consider not handing anything in.

Apologies for the mediocre/boring update, I'll try and get a more interesting one out next!
RJx

Golden Arches

I creep down the stairs as quietly as possible, my parents know I go out most nights but I never get in trouble and it’s easiest for all of us if I keep pretending to sneak out and they keep pretending not to notice. Tiptoeing down the corridor and into the garage I pause to pat our elderly dog Sammy goodbye for the night, he too is used to this routine. Reaching my car I wrench open the door of my blue Honda jazz and climb into the small cabin, two minutes later I’m en route to the only place open all night on a Wednesday, the McDonalds half an hour away, with the Fine Young Cannibals blaring from the CD player. She drives me crazy and I can’t help myself...I love this song, and with no memories attached, this album is ideal for calming my mind tonight. Before I know it I’m pulling into the carpark, the golden arches glowing above me, one constant in this crazy world. The sliding glass doors part before me, almost as if they’ve been waiting for me alone, I slide into a booth and start pulling out my textbooks and University applications, might as well try and get something done even if it seems pointless. I wander to the counter and order a large frozen coke from the sullen looking guy about my age, if I want to hang out here all night I have to at least appear like I’m here for the food and drink- although I’ve never known the staff to try and kick anyone out, one in the morning isn’t exactly rush hour for fast food.

I don’t know exactly when I started not sleeping, it seemed as if bad things only happened to Ally when I was away- maybe because it all seemed compounded the next morning, I don’t know. I used to sneak to the hospital to see her all the time, it made her laugh, and I didn’t missing my sleep- without her at school there was nothing to keep me awake during classes anyway, I could catch up then. It’s a habit I can’t break, so most nights I can be found in the McDonalds, or patrolling the streets- although without a job it’s hard keeping up with the petrol bill for that one.

Night Owl

After being forced to sit through a meal of forced cheer, as my family attempt to draw me out of the shell her death hardened around me, I am relieved to escape to the privacy of my room. As I enter my haven I take in the clutter, it probably needs tidying...but I kind of like it, the mess of things feel familiar and comforting. In a flash of orange my eyesight and mind are diverted to the small tank on my bedside table where my goldfish, Jaws, lives.

I know what’s coming next; I’ve travelled this road enough...every day in fact. It takes me exactly a hundred and eleven minutes to share the journey from meeting Ally to losing her with Jaws. I know. I’ve counted. I hadn’t known Ally all that long, well five years, but it feels like a mere blink of time. When I met her we were 12, I was awkward and lonely just starting high school in a body that didn’t feel quite like mine yet and she was, full of a confidence I’ve never had. Ally was the one who stood up to anyone who upset me, in ninth grade she was the girl who punched Elizabeth Lester in the nose when she called me a freak who no one liked. In the time I knew her she became my protector, my big sister in so many ways, I knew she’d been sick before but she was so strong, so full of life I never thought I’d really have to lose her. Ally had been free of the leukaemia since she was 10, the oncologists and others in the parade of doctors had said that ten years was the mark to aim for, the point at which we’d know she was free. It had been seven years...surely that was long enough, it seems like a joke now, and seven years aren’t ten. What a fool I was to believe it.

Suddenly I can’t bear it anymore, can’t sit here watching her last weeks in my mind- again. I grab my car keys and backpack of school things and head for the door.  

Web of shame *Trigger SH*

Reaching into the pocket of my checkered skirt I remove the immaculate blade that has been nestled there throughout the day. As I watch the afternoon light from my window glinting off its silver edge I wonder if it is human nature to pick favourites even in the most inappropriate times, or if I am particularly sadistic...because I’ve always had a favourite razor. In this moment time finally begins to slow down, I can practically feel it becoming more viscous, trickling and oozing around me rather than the mad streaming rush that has been whipping past me since this morning. In the bathroom I hike up my skirt, staring at the white expanse of my thighs, a blank canvas for thoughts...well blank if you ignore the interlacing network of faint white lines and red, raised scars. This web of shame bears witness to my sorrow in a way that nothing else can. The razor poised over my leg, a feeling of anticipation pulses through me, the rush beginning. I’ve grown so used to this that I can manipulate the blade to produce exactly the cut I am aiming for, it’s a sick skill, one I should never have mastered...and yet I am transfixed to see the skin split like an overripe banana, as if it had been waiting for the excuse all along, a brief glint of pale pink flesh may be seen for half a moment before the severed capillaries send a rush of blood to the surface.

As always the blood triggers my immediate response, shit! I scramble for toilet paper, pressing it to the wound as gently as possible. Only now do I feel the pain, even so I am merely aware of my mind keeping tabs on the pain as I struggle to staunch the flow. Dimly I recognise that the ball of despair that was threatening to burst through my chest only minutes ago has dissipated completely.

Stay safe, hope this isn't too graphic, let me know.
Love always, RJxo

Home "sweet" home (continued)

“Rose!” comes the shout again, louder this time, I still haven’t replied. I finally call out a greeting, she’s around the corner and can see me now, can see that my schoolbag sits on the armchair unopened whilst I’m absorbed by my laptop. “I cannot believe you’re not studying again! Do you even want to get into medicine?!” Now that my mother has found me her voice is low, far from being a fan of conflict she gets me with the soft disappointment and care. It tears me apart more effectively than her anger ever could.

I finally escape to my room, laptop held tight to my chest- I haven’t had a chance to erase the history yet, and there’s no way I’m letting my mother troll through the forums I’ve visited. I reach my door with a sigh of relief; I don’t know why I don’t just come straight here to begin with. I guess there’s a slight glimmer of hope within me, much as I try to quell it, that hopes each day will be different, be better somehow. Tears spring into my eyes; threatening to spill as I feel the huge ball of hurt and anger swell inside me until it’s filling my entire chest cavity. I can feel it wrenching me around, as if there’s something physical inside of me, wrenching my entire being around and filling me with despair- until I need nothing more than to release it.

Home "sweet" home

The key turns easily in our heavy door's lock, welcoming me home, as always I cross the carpet pausing only to drop my school bag onto the old leather armchair on my way to the table where my laptop awaits. Computer on, itunes open, facebook open and msn signed in...I'll be set for quite a while. My msn screenname flashes up at me, Eros with my personal message scrawled below if they give you lined paper, write the other way. I can't connect to the girl who wrote these, she seems a distant stranger. I felt so smart when I settled on Eros for my screenname, an anagram of my own name which means love in greek, on a more subtle level I felt it expressed my contempt for stereotypical gender bias as Eros was a son of greek mythology. As for my personal message, I felt it marked me as literary...I have no idea why this seemed important. At any rate, I haven't changed them for so long it would seem strange to. Unsettling somehow.
Flicking over to my facebook page, hers is the first face to catch my eye- as it always is. It's only been 6 months and no one can bear to shut down this last fragile connection with Ally. I surrender willingly to the memories, letting them wash over me for as long as I can bear...I see her face watching me like she's right there, I relive her last week, strained in the hospital with rare moments of laughter interspersed, I could still laugh when she was with me.
"Rose!" Oh no, mums home, and I'm not studying. Again. Let the games begin.

RJx

Nano

I try to force my mind out of the past as I answer his question, I had always loved biology, but lately it's so hard to be interested in anything...learning just isn't coming as naturally as it normally does. I used to crave knowledge like it was my air to breathe, I would read everything I could get my hands on, even do extra reading on a biology topic, just because I couldn't bear my teachers answering a question with "Don't worry, you don't need to know that for this exam." But lately, my drive was gone, I could practically feel my whole future slipping away one class and one grade at a time. People say it's only to be expected..."She's lost someone very important to her..." "Rose just needs time to grieve" "Study's just a low priority at the moment...she needs to work through this first". When they spoke like that I just wanted to yell at them all, reveal the truth, that my amazing best friend had managed to look out for me, even unwittingly, as she left this world...and set me up with the perfect excuse for why my grades had dropped from some of the highest in the year to desperately close to failing out. No one seemed to notice that I hadn't been concentrating or studying long before I lost her...I almost think my parents didn't want to see that.

The school bell tolls through the classroom...snapping me out of my self reflection which I'd been spending far to much time on recently. Gathering my books into a hasty pile I stepped out onto the covered walkway that would take me around the science labs and to my locker, waving hello to people as I wandered around- no one seemed to want to stop and talk anymore. I guess they didn't know what to say, I'd done it before, avoided someone who'd lost a parent or friend simply so you didn't have to face the conversational awkwardness. Now I was the social leper...and feeling more and more like a human tumbleweed as I blew past people, mumbling hello or offering a practised smile before being swept along towards the front of the school and the bus that would deliver me home- whether I wanted to go there or not.

Hope this isn't too terrible- let me know if you have any thoughts Et, I'm going to  need all the feedback I can get!  
Love always, RJxo

NaNoWriMo?

I could feel it inside my pocket...the hard edge pressed into the side of my thumb through the thin material of the regulation school skirt. I just needed to know that it was there, it didn't matter that I was sitting in the middle of Biology, listening to an explanation of natural selection and with a friend beside me, I still needed to know that the small blade was there. It changed everything.
"So, what are the four requirements for natural selection? Rose?" my teacher's voice jolted me back to the present, lucky I could do biology in my sleep or I'd get in trouble with a far greater frequency.

NaNoWriMo this month...I'm very very behind I'm only just starting, figure I might as well try anyway. Although I don't really write so I don't see this going too well :P. Meh I just felt like playing around with something.
Feeling ok today, just tired, post later if I keep working on this.
RJxo

Parachute

I wanna take you with me
to life with no more yesterdays we can start again awake and so excited and change the way we always push
we always push

I'll open up and be your parachute
and I'll never let you down so open up and be my human angel and we'll only hit the ground
running

and when the world gets sharp and tries to cut you down to size
and makes you feel like giving in
oh, I will stay, I will rain, I will wash the words and pain away and I will chase away the way we push
the way we pull
you're beautiful

I didn't have the words today, A,B,D,J,F & Et ...I love you guys.
R-Jay xo
 I'll open up and be your parachute
and I'll never let you down so open up and be my human angel
and we'll only hit the ground
running

and if it feels like we might drop
it will stop
so don't look down
it wouldn't be the same without you
this life is too good to give up on
I'll open up and be your parachute and I'll never let you down so open up and be my human angel
and we'll only hit the ground
and we're gonna hit the ground
running

Grumpy day

So pissed at everything today.
1. Angry at my mum for trying to restrict our schoolies trip
2. Angry at a friend for wanting to drink on schoolies when no one else does
3. Angry at my best guy friend for bugging me
4. Angry at another friend because she's sick but she won't tell anyone but me
5. Angry at all the people who keep asking me about the above friend
6. Angry at my parents who won't leave me alone
7. Angry at my dad for even considering putting down my cat
8. Angry at my cat for peeing everywhere so that my dad gets mad
9. Angry at my best friend for thinking she understands everything, and telling a guy friend about it
10. Angry at the fact that my best friend actually gets nothing about my issues
11. Angry at the world in general really.

Ok, I know there's a lot of irrational anger there! I figured I'd just let myself list, I'm so grumpy today.
It's been such a crappy day. Ok lets face it I'm not mad about 4, that's all worry, I just wanted to keep with the theme haha.
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. SQUEEE!
Cranky R-Jay out, xox

Discontent...

Ok my residual stress seems to have developed into something more, I feel horrible...I can't explain it. I can feel this huge .. ball...that's taking up most of my chest cavity, swelling up inside me and wrenching me around. What is this...usually I have to be really upset. I don't know what's happened. I'm confused right now sure. But this doesn't make sense.
Okay it's wierd for me to know exactly what's causing this...let's list every possibility.
A) I have to do an english speech on a controversial topic on Friday, I'm not sure how well written it is :S.
B) I accidentally kissed my best guy friend on Saturday night and am just kind of blocking it out.
C) I got triggered tonight even though I didn't mean to...but I thought it had passed.
D) I'm worried about my friend(s) - there's two who are worries at the moment.
E) I need to change one of my uni preferences, and my mum and best friend are confusing me.
Hmm the wierd thing is it doesn't feel like it's exactly coming from any of those things. I don't *think* BCD are issues right now at all...A&E maybe a little more.
Oh I don't know what's wrong with me, I feel horrid, how do I get rid of this in a safe way...
Lots of love,
RJ

Stress fueled day

Today was...the poster child for how much work I can get done when I wake up in the morning and there are two assignments due by 3pm! I wrote soooo much today. It was good, but I was fairly freaked all day, I should know better than to leave things til the last minute, but after all the fun of the weekend I had got nothing done. I was trying to calm myself down all day...reminded me of a movie 'I learnt that this heart scares easy...you gotta trick it....say all is well little pal, all is well.' Ok it was in hindi, but that's what it meant! So that was the motto of the day. All is well! All is well! Hang on...I'll link you, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsYZJUQGmiI&feature=related, 1:18-2.00 ish :) haha...and then there's the song, which I love as well. It's my ... calming thing at the moment. Don't know what to call it. But it makes me sad in the end because of them finding their friend dead :(, however in the soundtrack it's easy just to go with the awesomeness of it. Anyway, I'm very off track!
It was a long, stressful day, and I still have that kind of left over/ residual stress if that makes sense haha.
I also got really triggered accidentally before reading a story (Mi, are you safe?) I love it SOOOO much, but the last chapter was triggering for me. Don't worry, I was good. It was just unpleasant you know.
Anyways I'm off, more tomorrow when I've actually been at school.
All Izz Well!!!
RJxo