Shea Butter

be_unmade @ 2004-07-23T09:23:00

2004-07-23T16:26:46Z

Hello

It's me again

I want to ask you a few questions.

Like how you could go from saying you wished you could wake up with me in my arms every morning to saying it would be better if we weren't together. Like how you could act like you were doing this for my own good.

I want to tell you some things.

I want to tell you that I don't know if you ever really cared. You don't seem to care. It meant so much more to me, all of it did. I want to tell you that everybody's acting exactly the same as ever and I'm drowning. I want to tell you that I'm not going to pretend this doesn't hurt, this doesn't kill. Except around you.

Because 'you have more important things to think about' and maybe you do, but I wasn't aware that I was so high maintenance. I thought I was helping.

You told me that you didn't feel much, anymore, but I made you feel.

You told me that you weren't always glad you survived, but I made you glad.

You told me you loved me.

You told me -

I wanted to say hello.

be_unmade @ 2004-07-22T21:57:00

2004-07-23T05:13:19Z

You were wild, where are you now

It's amazing the things you take for granted when they're asleep in your arms. This morning I woke up next to Jen. I was tangled in her arms and a pointless sheet and I wondered why I had ever cut myself. Why I counted calories and went to sleep clutching my stomach. She loved me. I love her. We were us and we were we and it was perfect. It was perfect. For once I was absolutely content with my relationship.

I've seen you laugh at nothing at all, I've seen you sadly weeping. The sweetest thing I ever saw, was you asleep and dreaming. Now you may not be beautiful, but that's not for me to judge. I don't know if you're beautiful, because I love you too much.

But then Sarah made a post in her journal about how she was finally realizing what a 'delusion' her and my relationship had been. Big girls playing house... and God, it killed me. It hit me for the first time that I had left her, I had hurt her... it hit me how much I missed her. She and I had the conversation we had needed to have... but Jen sensed a vibe from me over AIM (she knew Sarah had posted and had read it as well) and asked if I regreted breaking up with Sarah. I told her the truth: sometimes, but I never regretted her (Jen) and me.

Next thing I know Jen's on the phone and we're talking and maybe it would be better and maybe it would be best and you're miserable and maybe it would all be better that way. And next thing I know we're broken up, and she's calm, she's relieved, it's in her voice. She completely okay. Says she needs to concentrate on being okay anyway... which she does. She does! She doesn't need a relationship getting in the way of her being alright.

But for God's sake.

Here I go and I don't know why, I spin so ceaselessly - could it be she's taking over me? I'm dancing barefoot, headed for a spin... some strange music drags me in, makes me come on like some heroin

This morning I woke to find her staring at me. And when I opened my eyes she smiled and whispered 'I love you more than anything'. And I believed her. And there was sunshine and warm body and warm sheets and the radio was playing Dancing Barefoot and for once in my life I felt like every little thing was gonna be alright. For once in my life I believed her when she told me I was beautiful.

And I remember all the things we once shared - watching TV movies on the living room armchair. But they say it will work out fine, was it all a waste of time?

I'm drowning.

I'm dieing.

Careful

2004-07-19T07:44:22Z

(6:00 pm)

It used to be so simple. A cut on my thigh, a burn on the pad of my hand. Now I have two broken hearts behind me and a third, still beating, in my hand. I have to be so strong for the people I love - I used to think I could be. I have to be so strong, and when they finally let me alone and I crumble I still feel that I've failed them. Every time I cut, I think to myself - you're failing them. Failing them. They need you and you're failing them. They have their own pain - they don't need mine as well. My girlfriend attempted suicide last week and I want to follow her. I want to throw off my worries and concerns and be selfish for once, forever. The worst and the best of it is that she isn't suicidal, it was an impulsive reaction to a horrible situation. I wish I were so stupidly brave.

I love Jen. I'm afraid for her - I'm nothing but a hypocrite.

I love Sarah, just differently now. I wish we could have worked
out. I wish... it's pointless, now, though. It hurts.

I miss Kora. My first girlfriend. I wonder how she is, and if she's found another Wonderwall to save her.

I think J and Sarah are getting closer and closer, and I don't know if I'm jealous or not. All I know is that it used to be me that Sarah talked to for hours. It used to be me that Sarah called a goober, whom she shooshed. I gave that up, though. I have to remember that. I gave it all up, I gave her up.

I worry about Nini. I love my Nini-twin too - but sometimes I wonder if she and Jen are supposed to be together, after all. Sometimes I wonder.

I love and hate Elizabeth. I wish she would apologize for once in her life. I wish she wasn't so selfish. I hate that she hurt Sarah - our would-be anniversary is not the time to tell my ex that I'm dating the girl she thought I was cheating on her with (I wasn't).

****

(12:42 am)

It's nearly one and Jen just left. I love her. It's different than the love I used to have for Sarah - it's less, it's more. Maybe it's a more mature love - I hope not, because that would take away from me and Sarah somehow. I did love her, I do love her. Just... it isn't the same. Not the same at all, anymore. I hate that. I hate that I hurt her, that I'm still hurting her. No matter who I am, who I have, where I am now...

I still called being the black cat.

Jen saw the lower half of my right thigh, and I told her it was just a one time thing, a relapse. I'm relieved and upset she didn't see my upper thigh or my left thigh - she just saw the least of it, only nine shallow cuts. There are... 91 other cuts elsewhere on my thighs. It makes me sick. At least half of them are just tiny but deep slashes, but still, they're there. I felt like such a shit when she saw - I suppose it couldn't have been helped, we had just had sex, but still. I should have been more careful. I'm glad she didn't see the rest.

I think subliminally I wanted her to see. I'm such a fuck-up. God, she attempted suicide just over a week ago! She has enough to deal with without me. I don't deserve her... but she says that I make her glad that she survived. Maybe I do help, somehow.

I just have to be more careful.

be_unmade @ 2004-04-23T21:15:00

2004-04-24T04:18:50Z

Something cold is forced inside here
A tear spills down her cheek
Stillborn songs of the dead dreamer
Hymns of the needle freak
With sunlight in her hair
She smiles like she don't care
Her dreams are liquid blue
I cut myself again and again
To remind myself of you

She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares
She feels it die, I heard her cry
Like the scream of the butterfly

Break their hold over me

2004-04-24T04:14:42Z

These precious things, let them bleed, let them wash away...

There is something in my mouth, and it tastes like ash and silences me like a gag. The shadows cast long shadows themselves tonight, promising me embers of disquiet that will settle like angels in the hollows of my collarbones until they burn me clean. I can no longer feel the wind, or the rain, or the sun or the night or the flame.

I can only feel the shadows, and their deep-down bone cold.

Ode to My Family

2004-04-21T03:38:49Z

So this is what it comes to when the lights are off and you can't think but to bleed. So this is what it comes to: safety pins your last resort, bright red where your watch rests, where a wristcuff might go. Safety pins everywhere - on your backpack, the ankles of your jeans, and it's not a post-punk fashion statement but because when you use it you have to bend it straight out.

You ruin it.

But your hands still shake, so you dig at your skin with this fucking safety pin, this fucking tiny thing you can barely hold right you're shaking so much, you dig until you can't even think of the skin as yours anymore. It's just blood, just skin, just furrows like you're ready to sow seeds. Of what? Until your eyes are blurred, and your stomach resents the way you haven't eaten all day.

So you eat celery and watch the red sunset fade, leaving the thunderclouds behind.

Thunderclouds

2004-04-21T02:58:58Z

The sky was angry at me today. The thunderheads followed me home, and I couldn't be sure weather they were chasing the blue sky or chasing it away. I was going to see me friend, who I see rarely and whom I miss miss miss, this Saturday but she's finally got a job and I can't ask her to call in sick. She needs this job, and so I watch the sky turn blue and purple like a new bruise before I slowly move on.

My mom found my Box today - the dollar store heart where I keep my blades, the mix cd I listen to while I cut, some cigarettes (I smoke maybe three times a year), matches... the box where I keep the things that keep me sane. I threw it away of my own free will, saying that I had just forgotten about the box, that it was from last year. My only sanity is in serenity, and privacy, and it's as much her finding the box as having to throw it away that's making my hands shake.

The night is so much colder than the day.

(x-posted to bleeding_beauty, lovexmyxcrimson and my personal journal)

My mother.

2004-04-16T04:56:45Z

My clothes are all wrong.
(toobig toosmall tooold toonew youdon'twearitenough youwearittoomuch tooragged tootight wearsomethingelse)

My hair is all wrong.
(wearitdownmoreoften toofrizzy toostraight toogreasy toogelled)

My face is all wrong.
(washitmore lookatallthosepimples wearmoremakeup wearlessmakeup whyisyournoseallred)

My body is all wrong.
(toofat toosmallchest tootall don'tshaveenough don'twalklikethat)

My friends are all wrong.
(tooloud toostrange tooquiet toofew toomanyguys toomean toorude who'reyoutalkingto whatkindofpeopledoyoutalktoonline)

My hobbies are all wrong.
(tooexpensive onthecomputertoomuch youreadtoomuch youreadtoolittle youreadthewrongthings showmeyourwriting thatisn'tverygoodIexpected better)

I'm all wrong.
(fag)

I hate her some days.

(all your fault I'm so upset, Tiffany.
you should be nicer to me.)

Music and SI

2004-04-15T03:29:45Z

My life revolves around music, so it should come as no surprise that my self injury does as well. Depending on the music I'm listening to, I either cut long, serpantine cuts, many short deep cuts or just a mass of scrapes. Eventually, after ten minutes of bringing down the blade over and over again in the same small area there are deep cuts everywhere, and where there aren't deep cuts there are bleeding scratches. I have three patches of those on my legs right now, and they ache whenever I move. My aunt's a hairdresser and she dyed my hair today - when I washed out the dye it ran into the cuts, and I closed my eyes and cried.

(I always shower with all the lights off. )

I'm so afraid of being alone - those Iove digging their nails into my wounds and tearing them until they can see me, into me... until they can see the shadows. And it's not a general fear either. I can do alone, and solitary. I can sit for hours and watch the new tulips opening. But to lose the people I have. To lose the people who are my family and my pack...

....to lose Sarah....

I could never handle that. I just couldn't.

Tori Amos

2004-04-14T04:48:41Z

My Grandma and my Aunt and my Mom are all discussing my lesbianism. My mom promised not to tell them yet. I can hear their low whispers that they don't even try to conceal, so I turn on Black Dove by Tori Amos and stare out between the window blinds, searching for familiarity amongst the cloudy skies, searching for the stars as shrouded as they may be. I need to get out of the city, where the smoke and the fake-lights steal away my milky way. I want fresh air to make my eyes go bright and drugged, and comets to make wishes upon. I'm tired of glass and concrete - I want to kneel amongst the pine trees and beg silent warm goddesses for rain to soothe the forest fires that cloud the sun with smoke. There is such a difference between fire-smoke and death-smoke, and I choke on the difference a little more every day.

How a lion becomes a mouse... by the woods by the woods by the woods

I used to spin in my sock-feet to this song, my arms flung out wide and my eyes closed. I would sing, and I would pretend that my spinning would fan the words to somebody who might hear them and care. They don't know you've already lived on the other side of the galaxy.

When I was thirteen I would press my cheek to the cold cold car window, feeling the rain on the other side, and turn up Precious Things by Tori Amos until I could feel my shivers run clear through my toes. I would listen and pretend the rain was just as good as real tears. I would listen and pretend that everything was going to get better. Everything was going to be alright.

These precious things... let them bleed, let them wash away... these precious things... let them break their hold on me.

Maybe they are right. Maybe this love is a sin.

It would be just one more to bleed away.