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.