isuckandotheressays

[isuckandotheressays]

You're standing on a bridge

I haven't written ages, it's almost like I haven't needed too.

But at the moment, my brain is being extremely mean to me and making me mean to others around me that I love. I take full accountability to this, I think when people blame bad behaviour on mental illness it’s a cop-out, I think that a lot of people lie about it to justify being total jerks.  

But sometimes I am a jerk. I’m not a jerk because of my misc. mental illnesses, which at this point I'm not even sure I have. I’ve had adults telling me what I have and who I am my whole life and it isn’t till recently that I realized, you don’t actually have to listen. You can just.... not.

My partner is an angel, not the type of angel that you would think. My man straight up makes me Question existence, for all the right reasons, for the beautiful reasons. He’s kind and strong and looks good in flares. He strives every day to find more ways to understand the universe and sometimes, accept that some things are not meant to be understood.

Me; a stubborn Leo, sorry I had to, or ENFP whatever you want to call it. Have been relishing these gifts, I would pay money to walk around in his mind and understand the complexities of his thoughts. I’ve never loved someone too much and been at peace with the fact, that in the end, I may not understand, or can't understand or will never understand. If that shit isn't magic, I don’t know what is. Because he is magic.  

The one thing I know for sure is that in these 4 short months I have wanted to be the best version of myself that I can. I guess versions is not the right word because at this point in time I am on a metaphorical bridge watching myself go by.  

Insanity, right? No, not at all.

My anxiety is vicious, they’re scars left by a bunch of people that matter no more, they should not be the burden of my beloved. We all have those; scars I guess I think if you don’t you are not human and go away back to the space world.  

Anyway, absolute compassion, that’s what I have to work towards, it’s one thing to be yourself but what if you could be better? Wouldn’t you?

Like Baba Ram Das said, the legs are going the whole thing is happening, but nothing is happening, no matter what is happening.

4 months ago, I would have rolled my eyes. But it takes a special type of person to make me check myself, I appreciate because with complete compassion I must accept the consequences of my behaviour.

So, buy your crystals, go to Macdonald's, make love to the man that lifts you up even when you are nailing his sweet ass to the cross with wholemeal pasta and kisses.

After all, We’re all going to be dead soon anyway, we are running out of water

[isuckandotheressays]

Are you influenced?

Let’s talk about influencers.

Let's talk about the people in the world that currently dictate what we buy and why we buy it.  

1. How ridiculous

2. Again how ridiculous.

3. This is very good but also very bad.

Okay so, there are people that follow and people that lead but there is also the sort of person that it's there, evaluates, doesn’t follow everything and keeps quiet and doesn't lead either.

So you are of a desert island, who do you want to be stuck with?

Because I personally don’t want to be told about sugar bear hair while I'm building a literal hut or fire.  

Anyway, I'm getting off track, I think that we are in a really bizarre predicament. Is there really someone out there that is telling us the truth? Or are there just a bunch of salty nymph-like attractive woman being paid a lot to tell you what you WANT. They don’t know what I want that’s for sure.

What do you NEED?

So, lets see, are we at a loss for the genuine? Or has it always been like this? There has always been Bettys and Veronicas and Virginias and Marilyn's. Have we been subliminally told that we are Ugly and we need the next fun goo to put on our face? Or are we out here idolizing these women because we don’t idolize ourselves? Because god forbid, we actually like how we look or feel? Or at some time, don’t actually fucking care.

Some days I do, somedays I don’t. Does that me vain? Maybe. Does that make me a follower? Probably. Does that make me genuine? Nope. Does me sharing these nonsensical ramblings helpful to others feeling the same bitter dysphoria? Hopefully.

Just remember at the end of the day you can unfollow that glorified beach babe, but you can’t unfollow yourself.

Because you are the only one out there doing you.  

[isuckandotheressays]

be brave and unblock me

An open letter to the man that was in my life that is there no longer.

I don’t feel think like normal people do. Ever since I remember the conflict has made me scared. The thought of someone wanting or needing anything from me makes me want to dig a hole, get inside and cover myself with dirt.

To start, my life has not been easy. People feel things about me I cannot control, I cannot be held accountable for. The fact that you like the way my mouth looks when I'm talking about something discredits what I'm saying.  

So hello, here it is, for you to read over and over and misconstrue and argue with as much as you want.

You do not know me. I can’t stress that enough.

The fact that you think I owe you anything makes me so fearful my skin hurts.

I wish I never went on the website, I never put myself in the line of fire, never indulged your advances.

That’s not to say that you that not help immensely, were there when no one else was and put food in my body and clothes on my back.  

But for you to say, be brave and unblock me is so disappointing it makes me consider your motives in the first place.

The boy that I chose to spend time with, the catalyst for the cut-off. Is no longer in my life because again, I chose me.  

I chose survival, protection and solace.  

And what do I have now? Fear. Fear that you will lash out, fear that you will knock on my door, fear that you will contact my family work your way into my life again like you belong here.  

I don’t feel think like normal people do. So, respect me and let me go because the doctor will only prescribe me extremely small amounts of valium. The cold sting of embarrassment ripped down my spine when a red window reared its ugly head on the prescription laden screen:  

This patient has spent extensive time in psychiatric hospitals. She has previously attempted suicide with hoarded prescription medication, take note when prescribing sedatives.  

So, be brave and unblock me? Be brave and leave me be.

[isuckandotheressays]

Feather Weight Dishwasher

Please welcome him to the ring.

Our love is easy but my love is difficult. Me, a child, also difficult.  

He, a featherweight dishwasher studying fine art.

Me, a literal mess.

We met when we were 16. Watched each other grow up, him never giving up and me never losing hope.

He met one other along the way but she wasn’t soft like me. She was hard and spiteful and wanted him to feel the way she did.

He didn’t.  

We were banished from each other’s lives. I had been sucked dry by another, I wasn’t wounded anymore, no muscle exposed, stronger from it even. I had wrapped my custom-made suit of leather-clad armour so tight around me that there was almost no breeze touching my skin.

But guess what, he said he had a feeling he couldn’t tell me about yet. He told me that even though I was the person I was he wanted to sleep next to me, taste my skin ask if I had eaten today.

I hadn’t but I was so full. I had been surviving off Instagram and vending machine food.  

Then we said it and everything got really slow and warm.  

[isuckandotheressays]

My life as a centaur

You know how when you have a bad cold, you really struggle to remember what its like to not be sick?

Or maybe you are a student and you work too and you actually don’t remember what its like to be not tired. I feel like that with my mental health. People talk about having good mental health and that concept is so foreign to me it might as well be written in Latin.  

So, I have to laugh at myself a little bit when I'm praised for keeping it together with all my ailments because, in total honesty, I really can't remember being NOT like this.

I remember being little and never eating my sandwiches at lunch purely so I had one thing that I had control over, I think that’s where it started, the issues with food anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I'm not anorexic or anything, but it do have a complicated relationship with food.  

I fucking love pizza, like one time, when I was feeling sad, I ate three pizzas to myself. Honest to say, didn’t taste as good coming up but anxiety makes it very hard for me to keep food down.

Once I threw up because I thought I lost my wallet, another time I threw up because I thought that I was going to get food poisoning from a bit of bread that I later found out was dropped on the ground.  

I've taken laxatives, I've only eaten yogurt, I've limited myself to only those weird aloe drinks that are full of aloe jelly bits. But regardless of how much I've dieted or worked out my body has stayed about the same. Don’t get me wrong not eating much does make you lose weight and I do tend to fluctuate between about 54kilos to about 62. I've been blessed and cursed by my pseudo-Mexican body. I'm what you call now, thanks to the Kardashians and Instagram, a 'centaurian'. That’s right, like the half human half horse hybrid.  

I remember seeing fantasia and making my mum and dad fast forward to the 'pastoral symphony'. If you don’t know what I'm talking about you should 100% jump on YouTube and check it out because it's an absolute a synesthetic delight.  

I don’t know if this contrast of a beautiful , svelte, coy half horse half woman completely skewed my ideals of beauty.  But I definitely identify with the duality of beast and beauty. There is a part of me that is this, devil may care fuck off feminist powerhouse horse. I'll outrun you like its nothing. I'll be happy alone is my weird metaphorical paddock happy eating hay and drinking beer. Or whatever the horse equivalent to beer is. I'm not super good with metaphors this essay, played myself.

But there is this other side its gooey and pink and wants boys to tell me I'm pretty. It makes me want to grow out my buzzcut learn how to contour and get one of those bras on Instagram that pushes all your stuff together all nice. I want to sexy baby laugh at shit jokes and drink red wine and maintain a perfect red lip.  

If I met this version of myself, I would probably roll my eyes, maybe out of indifference, maybe out of spite or jealousy. For now, though, I think I just to be a peace with being a really sardonic centaur.

[isuckandotheressays]

Oi though, how good are supportive friendships? In this past year, I thought that I would never really be able to have close friends again and now I'm surrounded by absolutely amazing people! some of them are like, not even my mum!

[isuckandotheressays]

Professional Scaredy Cat

DECEMBER 2017

I'm so fucking good and being scared,

like if being scared was a sport I would be a fucking gold medalist,

but instead of being scared of like, normal things, like spiders or sharks or whatever,

I’ve become this sullen cliche that is absolutely petrified of commitment.

Like how rich is that? coming out of a three-year relationship and being like

some damaged garbage person and I are scared of commitment.

There is a bit of method to this madness though,

I fucking love being alone. Like I feel like was starved of oxygen for three years and now that I’ve had a big deep breath I don’t want to share the air with anyone else. so there is that.

I spent 3 years with someone that I thought I was going to have in my life forever but post us breaking up, bear in mind it wasn’t like a big scary breakup, my ex-became the fucking antichrist, smiting my name and basically character assassinating me, so naturally, I’m a bit afraid.

I am like, such a nut case and i don’t wish my nutcasery upon anyone.

So yeah, how good is that shit, I’m being belled with the presence of some of the most gorgeous humans ever but yet I’m on a fucking slack line in my head eating for me to fuck it up.

I feel like I lost my magic and i just talk about how self-deprecating i am, or like my dad, because he’s both sick and siiiiick.

So yeah, how interesting am I? riveting right?

I am a dirt human.

What that entails is simple.

It a delicious combo of complete and utter self-hatred and stupid Leo prowess. Yeah I thin sat signs are a thing, even though it's preposterous, I am so very much my start sign. Leo's are obnoxious,  overbearing and somewhat autocratic.  

I'm definitely overbearing, I think most of the time I show my cards too early.  

"Hi I'm cay, I have crippling anxiety and sometimes I lose control and go to psych wards, nice to meet you."  

Or worse, I just completely resonate farcical confidence. Fake it till you make it right. I know a lot of people can relate this dysphoria of confidence and feigning a certain thing until you find your own type of truth.

I think that’s why I make art. I really like making music, singing etc., but that takes a certain level of vulnerability, you have to be there present. When I make work, it's made, it get put on the wall and you can take it or leave it.  

[isuckandotheressays]

Bad Sugar Baby

WRITTEN IN MARCH 2017

I was desperate for money, my boyfriend on 3 years had moved out, I lost my job, I had hit rock bottom. I unfortunately also have a complex about working hard, and wanting to work hard. I also love people, and If I would be paid to just be a charismatic blob I would.

I was told about seeking arrangement, but hadn't really thought about it until I matched with some guy called Trent on tinder. His photo was the words sugar daddy on a wood background. He looked pretty gross, not going to lie, like someone's dad at a barbeque, bit greasy, you like had to be weary of him, he was like a 'cool dad' but also like a bit of a worry. Trent wanted to fuck me though. I didn’t want to fuck Trent, no matter how many tacky Pandora charms he wanted to buy me.

Anyway, I did cave and go on seeking arrangement, because I wanted and needed money. I kept it coy, Uni student blah blah I work hard blah blah I'm poor help me blah blah. I wasn’t sure what people wanted and I was ever as naïve think ing that people would just meet me and want to take care of me. Like some old wealthy friend that buys me nice things and holds me and tells me it's going to be okay.  

My life was in shambles at this point as stated before, my friends were not talking to me, I was barely eating, living day to day on ciggies and sunlight. Also in the back of my head, I was starting to convince myself that I was some type of sociopath.  

I was hanging out with lots of handsome boys my age, ones that if I kept trying I would end up dating like an idiot. I am consciously making myself stay single, I need to be alone, but not this alone. Literally, the only person that wants to spend time with me right now is this gorgeous 50's sailor level of a handsome boy and we have slept together I'm not sure he's even going to want to see me again. Alls well that ends well anyway, I probably shouldn’t be hanging out in the daylight with handsome people, it gives my security false hope. I need to be single, I need to remain Single.

[isuckandotheressays]

Maybe she’s born with it, maybe its rapid cycle bipolar

It's been two days since I've written to you, you are still avoiding me, I feel sick all the time, I feel useless I feel like nothing I ever so will revive our friendship. I guess I am to blame, my idiocy, my inability to be a good person. I don’t know how to redeem myself, you are getting closer to him, he's whispering things to you about me being a dishonest person, about being unclean and psychotic.  

Maybe I am those things, I don’t know anymore, no matter what I do I still feel extremely awkward and anxious, I thought that we were forever, I really did, my ride or dies, but presently I feel dismissed, ugly and obtuse. I feel attacked without there even being a fight, I feel lost even though you are right there. I'm stuck and not worthy. I wonder what I would have to do, how long I will have to wait, how hard I will have to push how soft I have to be. How long until this exile is over, this foul bitter feeling at the back of my throat somewhere between choking back tears and wanting to scream.  

My body is weak, I'm looking for love in the wrong places, I'm looking for love at all. I know that you love me, I know you always will, but when will you hold me again tell me it's okay, accept my apology, free me from this horrible feeling that I'm just as much putting myself through as well as you. I don’t even know if you know, that I cry all the time, that I'm not really sleeping that I'm eating less and less to stop myself from slicing up my skin from sheer frustration.  

This is not your problem, of course, it's mine, I've done this, I've put myself here, if I was better, if there was a cure, If the medication I took completely eradicated all symptoms, would I be in a different place? Or is this just you being sick of me, giving up on me, everyone else has I should be surprised, I do deserve to be alone, I'm draining and tiring and I'm toxic to others. My illness, ruins everything, it lies and wriggles and fucks whatever it wants, it runs its grubby hands down my sleeves and uses me as some sort of demented puppet.  

I am that, a symptom. Maybe she's born with it, maybe its rapid cycle bipolar.  

I don’t know whether to send this, if it's worth it, if the damage my actions have done is irredeemable if I deserve to be forgiven if I deemed to feel like some gross victim of my own delirious manic actions. I was scared, I was lonely, I wanted everything and anything and my insatiable hunger made it really hard to stop what I was doing. I didn’t even know I was doing it, to some extent anyway, I've never been out of control like this, tumbling through a break up a breakdown and hitting the official ROCK BOTTOM. How do I get out, please tell me, please help me be what you need? Someone you can bare to be around because right now, I have nothing. No job no boyfriend no best friends no money no happiness how much more can I lose? Watch me fuck up my life further? Is that even possible? I'll probably find a way.  So far, I've proved to myself that the things that I thought were the most solid in my life will shift if I push too hard, even when I'm not trying to.  

So please indulge me, why are you doing this and how can I fix it, because right now, I'm seeing very little point in existence.

[isuckandotheressays]

Cold Chai

I think it's really hard to come to terms with how you look as a girl.  One minute, you can feel like Beyoncé herself, otherers you can feel like none of your features fit on your face, you can feel like you can't look good without your liquid eyeliner and mascara, or maybe you need to chuck on a red lip to get through the day, or some weird 70's hat that you bought on eBay, from personal experience, that’s how I feel.

When I was little, an a girl and an only child. I was told nonstop that I was a 10/10, by adults anyway. At school I was always such a 'nothing' girl. I grew up never understanding why my first crush didn’t think I was drop dead gorgeous while my mum was telling me I was like an angel sent from heaven.  

Side note: when I was around 3 or 4, my dad played me 'the most beautiful girl in the world' by pronce and told me with total conviction, that the song was about me. In the playground while sporting a new blue rueshed 'boob tube' I told my one friend that I really had that prince wrote a song about me, my dad told me so. This girl (who turned out to be a bit of a frenemy buts that s another story), looked my in the eye with total confidence, later I would learn of the word arrogance and realize that was probably more fitting, and told me that that song was in fact about her and her dad had told her the same thing. I saw fucking red, I can't remember if I punched her or just had a total tantrum, but I remember he having a bloody nose and experiencing that word in German that you feel joy from another's misfortune.  

I digress. My first proper crush was Julian Chai, he was a nerdy Japanese kid that we best friend at the time also liked. I remember I made him a really elaborate card and put it in his tote tray, like amongst all his works sheets from year three about how many tens are in one hundred. He picked it up and looked at it, I think I had put about a solid hour of effort into it but didn’t write my name. I was a girl, collaged face and all, in a pink backwards cap winking, her face was made of a bit of paper plate, it was a masterpiece.

Okay, so he laughed and put it in the bin joking with his friends that some psycho put it in there. I'm not being a dick, but Julian wasn’t like some Casanova 3rd grader, I assumed he would be stoked that someone was interested in him but he chucks my hours effort in the bin like he was some sort of in demand hunk.  

I did cry, a lot. I couldn’t understand why when all these adults were telling me I was this vision in buck teeth (we both had buck teeth from memory) , that this B grade 3rd grader didn’t want to dance with me at the disco (I'm honestly so sorry Julian if you ever read this I'm sure you are like super established now and I'm some grub writing this on my old mac book at my parents' house).  I would literally do anything to get his attention. I don’t even really know what I would have done once I got him, like hold his hand or something?

So fast forward to picnic day, like end of year beach day where everyone wears lame rashies and talks about how they are going to tennis camp or to see their grandma in Adelaide. My mum, understanding my adoration to this otherwise indifferent 8 year old, let me buy him an x-mas present to give him to show how much I cared, and in hope that we could maybe go see transformers on the holidays or something G rated anyway.

I walked up him heart full and bionical in hand.  

"I got this for you for Christmas, I didn’t know which one to get you but I thought that the best on was the silver one because its shiny and the rest were blue and red and silver is so much cooler and I think you are cool"

"I can't take this...."

"why? I got it for you, you know I like you, it's for Christmas, don't you like Bionicals, did I chose the wrong one"

"I just can't take it.... I'm sorry I can't"

"why I don’t understand, just take it I got it for you!"

"if you take it back, I'll tell you who I like, l'll tell you right now.."

He leaned in, almost like a kiss and whispered in my ear, hand cupped:

"it's you"

And that was it he ran away. My little brain exploded, a ran to tell my best friend who at the time was wresting with a crush on the very same Julian. She didn’t believe me, no one did.  

Still to this day, I have no idea why he couldn’t take the Bionical. And also, why we never became boyfriend girlfriend, didn’t even get to hold his hand. Fucker.

[isuckandotheressays]

Say thank-you not sorry

Say thank you not sorry.

Time to write something that does not evolve myself.  Going to try my best to not say me and I.

The other day I was walking, fuck, this is hard. The other day, walking, there was a young guy, he had really bad dermatitis, he was sleeping it rough his name was Allan. He was doing paintings on bits of cardboard for money. I (sorry I'm trying) say with him for a minute, asked him if he was hungry if he wanted a pie or something. I (fuck it whatever) went to the convenience store and asked if they had pies, they didn’t, so I sheepishly bought a pack of chips a can of coke and a choc chip muffin.

Look fuck this is actually too hard but this story is not about me a swear. It's about Allan.

I was about to go meet this 10/10 dreamy smart boy that is hanging out with me for some reason, thankyou not sorry.  

Allan was beat down but not broken, his skin was chapped and his face was sullen , he didn’t look cold he didn’t sound hard done by, he was just sitting there doing his think dealing with the hand he had been dealt. I gave his the stupid choice of food and he laughed when I told him that they ran out of pies.

"Foods food hey"

"how long have you been sleeping rough?"

"since I was like 14"

I didn’t want to ask why, I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to be given more reasons to try and adopt him and make him come with me on a pseudo date.

"where are you from?"

"I'm from Wollongong, ive slept just about everywhere but its easier to get people to give you money in the city, everyone just assumes I'm on ice or something when I'm is Wollongong"

There was a pause.

"im not on ice.."

"didn’t think you were, even if you were would still have bought you a shit muffin"

We both laughed, I was going to be running late but I recon dreamy boy would get it.

"Do you have Facebook?"

He got out a smart phone, just because he was homeless didn’t mean he wasn’t connected to the vacuum of social media. I said I didn’t , worried about what the consequences of giving him my Facebook would bring.

"no I'm not I'm off grid *nervous laughter* "

"oh that’s cool, what's your name anyway? I swear I remember you from headspace in Camperdown hey "

"I'm Cay, yeah I used to do stuff there that’s cool you remember"

"yeah...."

The silence was a cue, I had to go anyway, I had to go hang out with the sexy boy.  

I felt like a good person as we awkwardly shook hands goodbye. I thought that It was a nice thing to do, but in hindsight I'm not sure if I did it to make myself feel good or to make him feel good, regardless, my account was in minus money again.

[isuckandotheressays]

Part Two

So that last thing you read, the thing about everything working itself out, yeah I thought I was but, nah.

To be honest, I didn’t think that rock bottom existed. But guess what, it fucking does.

I have lost my best friend, who I thought was the love of my life. I've lost my other two best friends because I'm a toxic idiot with no social skills and no concept of boundaries. I have no job, no sense of self and no money. Literally, the only people that want to talk to me are people that don’t know my, or boys that want to have sex with me. I'm pretty sure I'm a psychopath, or maybe a sociopath, but how else could I have single handily ruined my whole life in a matter of months. Oh, right I know how? Because I'm a fucking idiot.

I am totally feeling sorry for myself but at this point in time what the fuck else am I supposed to so, I'm getting really fucking bored of hanging out by myself, I'm drinking too much. I actually think I'm the antichrist at this point. I've dug a hole so deep I can't get out. I'm manic, have cramps and have to move house day after tomorrow.  

So what should I do, besides grovel? I just sent my best friend flowers, because it's all I could think of. They are getting delivered to her work and the card says

'Thanks for putting up with my shit, hope I can fix things,   From memory, these are our favorite. Stay tuned for me being less of a trash human and more of me being a good one. Love you always'

I do want to be a good person, I just always manage to fuck everything up. I then proceed to think I didn’t do anything wrong. I'm doing the therapy, I'm talking to medication but I still a total waste of space. I wonder if the only reason people tolerate me is that I'm charismatic and pretty. Like at the moment, I'm so disassociated from myself. There is a part of me that wants to move forwards and I think that stuff is all new and nice. Some boy likes me and I feel physically attractive. But inside I think I'm this insidious piece of shit.  

Like what does being a good person entail, I like buying food for homeless people and giving them money, I adore my parents and try hard to be what they want me to be. I usually contribute to society, but now i’m not like sure because I have no fucking job. I like making people smile and I like smiling. At the moment though, I am having a hard time with that but you know whatever.

So what now, but self-help books? Listen to self-enriching podcasts? Do I get super fit? No, I go back to the loony bin ? You tell me? What should I do?

So reader, if there even is a reader, I'm sorry that I'm pathetic and I'm going to try harder, or something.

[isuckandotheressays]

PART 1 ; self-saboteur

How can you even start to talk about something like this without sounding so fucking cliché it makes your teeth hurt. Stuff is hard, like really hard, and it will be forever, and I know that. I am like, obscenely good at whining, I can whine about pretty much anything, the weather, the fact I have nothing to wear, the fact that I don’t get what I want. I'm internally spoiled, but I think everyone is really, any one that isn't is lying, what type of crazy person likes when they don’t get what they want? Unless you are ,like a masochist, which in some ways I probably am, or at least a self-saboteur.

Anyway, unimportant. More importantly, my life is currently in shambles. The love of my life won't talk to me because he's upset that I tried to kill myself. Now I'm sure from an outwards perspective that makes him sound unfeeling, a dick, but to be honest I'm the dick.  

Don’t get me wrong, I 100% wanted to die, I could not see my way out. I weighed out my options, I could hang myself from the loft bed he built for me, but I'm too tall and it wouldn’t have worked. I would slit my wrists, but then I would get heaps of blood on the 70's carpet and that would be just like, disrespectful to my housemates. So, my final thought was just to take as many of my sleeping meds as I could and just like, go to sleep. I wrote a note, in tears, obviously, I had fucking lost it.  

I individually popped out the pills and took them one by one, slowly getting more and more tired, getting less and less conscious. I kept thinking about random things, like how mad everyone is going to me if I survive this, how fucked it's going to be for Luke, how I've probably ruined his life. So I thought in my drug addled state, I should probably just like message saying I'm sorry to all my friends or whatever. Because I'm a dirt human.  

Suicide, is a really selfish thing, the most selfish thing you can do, but at that point in time, I couldn’t see my way out. I felt worthless, that the person I cared for the most in the world was never going to trust me again, that my best friends didn’t want to hang out with me because I'm so fun because I'm a useless sad lump that wines, can't even drink red wine because I become some heaps horrible bitchy cynical version of myself. That I would always disappoint my parents, because to this day, I don’t actually want to do what they want me to do and I really just want to be a starving artist and make art about how sad I am all the time.  

Anyway, I squeezed out some drama queen ass text to the people that meant the most to me, 'I'm sorry I love you' , which I meant but in hindsight as someone that wanted to die peacefully and alone in their house, is not a good move because people care about if you are dead or alive and well, got scared if they get that message out of the blue. So next minute, my dad, arrives in a cab, and I go to Emergency, and no one really takes what goes on particularly seriously and then in a bed and some doctor is making me drink some sludgy black coal shit to soak up all the medication in my stomach (side note it's been three days at this point and all that is coming out of me is like spirited away anime style sludge.  

So, I wake up and I'm going to the ward, this is like 8 at night, I did all this pill business at about Noon, and I'm sitting in the waiting room with my mum and dad who are literally at their whit's end with their nerves shot because their only child has an inability to cope with real life.

Side note, I am a productive member of society, I have job, that I mostly like and work hard at, I do a little bit of 'faffy' modeling for cash when I can, I get up I get coffee, I catch the train to school etc. Granted my mum pays my phone bill because I'm a 22 year old child that can't do real life human things. But yeah, back to the ward.

PART 2 ; repercussions

I'm sitting there waiting at the mental health ward and they literally come and give me some belongings I left there the time before. Like I'm some frequent flyer, I sort of laugh under my breath but try to stifle it because I love my parents  more than anything and I don't want to make this situation any more confusing and awful than what it is. I go to the tiny mini fridge and fish out a cheese sandwich because the stuff I took to OD makes you so fucking hungry.  

So I'm admitted, given the awkward PJ's, some hectic sedatives and put in the room with the vinyl mattress like the ones in jail I'm sure, except in the ward they give you milo and night and speak in hushed tones and take your blood pressure a lot and offer you adult colouring books.  

Then I'm in the room and I'm thinking things. The things I'm thinking are about the fact that I did not succeed in ending my life and now there are repercussions. I have to not only feel shit, I have to feel guilty because what I have done to the people who love me is so monumentally horrible and I'm a bad selfish person who is never going to be loved, etc. Then I think about if I had done it another way, if it had worked, then I fall asleep.

I'm woken up by a student nurse that looks about 15 rolling in a huge blood pressure machine. The soft voice ensues like fucking silk "so, uh, cay, do you feel safe? Do you feel like hurting yourself? Killing yourself? Feeling a bit better than yesterday?" And me, being a fucking idiot, says, "oh yeah I'm fine now, just tired you know". Because, from lots of practice, I'm a master at pretending I'm okay (I'm being sarcastic hopefully you get that and I don’t just sound like a prized IDIOT).  

Hours down the track in walk out in my gross green PJ's and look at who else in in the ward. Literally exactly what you would expect, some full grown woman with pink hair doing a puzzle of teddy bears, some 'methy' looking guy talking to himself in the room (until this point I thought this was a ward for woman only) that has a video of a waterfall on loop and an extremely greasy middle ages Asian woman being scolded for trying to sleep when she has to be awake because its day time. Nobody talks to each other, we are all sort of collectively embarrassed, no one really knows how to act, do we like smile at each other? Or do we have to prove our sadness to each other? I just keep my head down mainly until I get handed the sludgy meal that we have to eat with a spoon because u could mince yourself with a fork or knife. I recon if you really wanted you could use a spoon, I recon if you really wanted you could use anything like, it's pretty fucked up but I think about that all the time. I know pretty much all the things in a room that I could use to hurt myself.  

Like spoon? Easy, I would just either with all the force in my body, sorry for the gore, slam the not spoony part into my wrist and like , blood would Tarintino style go everywhere. I could also just like shove it down my throat and choke. I recon I could like, paper cut myself to death, that’s so morbid, oh my god, sorry.  

PART 3; insidious thing  

Fast track to now, I'm at my parent's house, with a shaved head, in the country, the love of my life won't talk to me. I'm almost certain that he's going to leave me, he's already moved out and he's basically sick of my shit. And to be honest, even though it fucking hurts, its fair enough.

Backtrack again, I worked at the pub, and everyone there just like, happened to do cocaine, so I tried cocaine, and of course, it was great but very expensive. If went from something fun to something I needed to get through a shift because I was so tired. Then I would spend all my money on it. Then the guy would show up at the bar and I would just swipe my card and take money out of the till. Like at the start it was spending my money, and then I started stealing the money.  

Now, I have a huge problem which honestly, I like being on drugs, plus being bipolar, oh yeah, but now that’s up for negotiation and could be a personality disorder or whatever. I didn’t tell anyone I was doing this, not even my partner or my friend who could have helped me. Especially, my partner. But again, dirt human remember.  

So, I was holding that secret in for ages, like was literally killing me. It was the most insidious thing ever. But I've always stuffed in and marred the truth to protect myself. When I was younger, like childhood till I was 16, I had a really hard time at making friends so I literally would just make shit up. But when I was first diagnosed and had my first break up, I worked out that, that probably wasn’t optimum to being like an alright human. So I stopped saying I was related to famous models and that I got kicked out of karate because I punched the teacher and started telling the  true story about the stress nose bleeds, of the white robes and I was related to a bunch of people that lived in Yass, as in many merinos (no offence to my family - you are all phenomenal).

PART 4; him

Forward, I hadn't told my parents this immense thing, and I was lying about what actually happened. So I told them. And, they really didn’t care. Not only what this an insane and complete surprise to me, it made me feel even worse that I have been an absolutely horrendous person to my partner.  

So now, I am petrified. I'm writing this with my newly shaved golf ball head, he's not talking to me and I'm this total wreck of self-hatred and total disarray. Because I want to be with him, I don’t want to hurt him. But I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know how to make someone trust you again, and I sure as hell don’t think I deserve to have such a fucking angel in my life.

Like you know those classically handsome boys from teen movies, yeah think about that, but like Bowie dreamy. Big ass blue eyes, freckles, tall, absolutely killer smile. He supports my art, he's good with kids and animals, he's stupid crazy intelligent, goofy and gets my humor, that I barely get sometimes. Like I have no idea how human trash like me could have made this person fall in love with me. One time, he fucking flew overseas to see me on our anniversary because he missed me. He has written obscure punk songs about me. He also supports me immensely, which I owe my life to, on many occasions.  

To be honest, I will understand if he's over it, he could do so much better, he could like, date a  girl who is not legally insane, that would not self-harm and lie and do batshit stuff like some crazy murderer. But, I do want to get better for him. And I am trying, I've enrolled in this crazy program that the psych lady said would improve my honesty as well as make me be able to deal with real life grown up situations like an adult and not some mentally inept baby thing. I am trying. Shaving my hair was a thing for me. I needed a physical change to put stuff in motion. I'm in motion now. And I hope that he sees that, but I understand, I truly I am the worst.

Skip forward to two weeks later, we ended it, I broke it I really did. But that okay, because you have to have a red hot go at being by yourself. I am weirdly happy, elated even, I feel like ive got myself back. Its crazy that you don’t even notice how much you have lost yourself until your alone, the cracks in what seemed like a perfect relationship start to show. Not to throw shade, but I think that I embarrassed him sometimes and tried to hard to act cool. And to be honest, I recon I am pretty fucking cool. I bent myself to fit around him, even my aspirations, even my work even my internet presence. He never let me 'vlog' he thought it was lame, seems like such a teeny thing but I full want to vlog. I want to talk into the abyss that in Instagram, hear an echo or not.  

I guess its all a learning curb really, you got to lose what you think you want to get what you need. I could 'smiths' along and ask to 'please please, please, let me let me let me, get what I want this time' but right now, I'm still working out what that is. It's pretty flippin' great.