Scars.

My kitten scratched me. She is very playful, and she accidentally scratched me while I was playing with her. A deep scratch. On my left wrist.

My mum saw it happen, heard me exclaim "Ow!!" and asked if she had scratched me. I pulled back my sleeve and looked at the long, bright, glistening, strawberry score going down my arm.

I almost burst out laughing when I saw it because it directly intercepts a long, horizontal, white, ridged scar. One of many. One of many that I have given myself. It seemed ironically funny to me that I complained that that little scratch hurt, when there before me was clear evidence of a much deeper, longer, more painful cut that I had inflicted upon myself.

I'm not sure if my Mum saw that it cut through the scar - maybe I only noticed it because I know exactly where they all are and what they look like. However - she has never mentioned the scars to me before. I think she just doesn't want to bring that horrible time up. It's not like I hide them anymore, but no one seems to mention them. RG did once, but after my reaction, never did again. I saw my Dad staring at them when my bare arm was forced in front of his face on the tube when we went to London. I quickly moved it. But he didn't say anything.

I saw E for the first time since March yesterday. She pulled a worried face and said I looked too thin. She left it at that - no probing. I liked it. Later than night I went to the pub wearing skinny leggings and a T-shirt. No one said anything. I wanted them to notice. Maybe they did; but no one said anything. I hated that they didn't, but more than that, I hated that I cared that they didn't tell me how thin I am. Even though if they had, I would have been scared that they wouldn't drop the topic.

I remember well the first day that I didn't wear arm "warmers" to cover my arms, and I bared my scars to the world. It had began as a fashion statement for me I suppose, wearing the arm warmers (I was kind of "gothy"/"emo"). I would make them out of stripy knee high socks or footless tights, so that they would be long enough to cover 3/4 of my entire arm. I was never seen without them. They became useful when I began cutting. I was afraid that they would think it strange that I wore them in summer, but I had been wearing them for so long that it wasn't that big a deal. And I had made a thinner summer pair out of fishnet tights.

Then one day - a year or so after I stopped cutting - I decided that perhaps the ugly, purple stains, ridges and grooves had faded enough to white that I could perhaps not cover them. It was a very hot day, and I was growing out of my "emo" phase - the arm warmers didn't look right with my new wardrobe. So I didn't wear them. I was nervous, but kind of excited. What would people say when they noticed?

But they didn't.

I don't know if they didn't notice, or just didn't want to say anything. Maybe they already knew. I don't know.

It was a weird feeling. People must have seen them. They must guess what I did to myself.

It made me wonder. Those scars - that I gave myself - reflect a self destructive side of me. And I am doing exactly the same to myself right now, but in a way that could produce less obvious scars; a thin body can be covered up, pale faces can be painted, flaky skin can be moisturised, dry hair can be cut and dyed. But essentially it is the same. And are these scars more dangerous? I probably have much scarier scars inside of me - my bones and organs. Why am I so self destructive? For attention? I don't think so. I don't know.


It's like I am choosing to be unhappy.




I think that, for now, this is goodbye.




  

trying to go backwards to go forwards

Thank you Courtney and Camille for your comments on my last post. Your concern means a lot to me. I love how, in this secret world, we can find support from strangers who feel like lifelong friends.

yesterday was better. it was sunny, I sat in the garden all day reading "Eclipse". it was a soul warming day, but in the evening when my boyfriend came round my mood had dropped a bit. I was trying to work up the courage to ask him what he honestly thought about my weight, but i couldn’t.

"what's up?"
*standard, programmed answer* "nah, it’s nothing, I’m just tired."

*inside answer* "I honestly have no idea, but I know that I’m not happy. it’s nothing that you have done, it’s what I’ve done to myself. I’m probably so depressed because I haven’t been getting enough nutrients because I haven’t been eating enough. I don’t know why I haven’t, but one day i decided to drop a couple of pounds - i don't know why - and i didn't stop. but i don't feel better. my clothes are too baggy and i am tired and grumpy all of the time. i am obsessed with counting calories, and i am tired of it. sorry, we cant have a proper conversation because i am trying to work out how many calories will be in tomorrows dinner, so i can work out what i should eat during the day. i know that i need to be eating more to maintain my weight, but i don't know how. there are lots of chocolates and biscuits in the house, but i don't want to do it that way. i suppose i could start small - semi skimmed milk. start using margarine again. using 2 slices of bread in a sandwich, not one. it's just, I've gotten into bad habits and they are hard to break. and this is too much mess for me to burden you with. i got myself into it, and i will get myself out, i don't want to worry you about my silly troubles. we are in love, and i don't want to introduce you into the secret food world in my head, because i think you will be scared. you don't belong in it - its not the real world, its just in my head, and i don't want to risk losing you by introducing you to it for no reason. I'm so sorry, i haven't been  myself recently, but i will be back soon. i love you too much to leave."

today i woke up gloomy, and the weather mirrored it. guhhh, looks like its going to rain for my party too, boo. will just have to get so drunk that i don't notice :) but not as bad as on my 18th when i passed out in a field and everyone thought i was dead. (poor them, i was oblivious and thought i was only gone 5 minutes! i had a great night haha). anyways, its later on in the day and i don't feel so bad. so that's good.

i was going to not blog for a while, but it feels weird not to. i think what i need to do is not use my calorie counter for a while, but that is even harder.

i was going to upload a picture of myself, but i don't think that would help. both positive and negative comments would probably cause me conflict.

i have to go backwards now. i need to increase my intake, and gain a couple of pounds to try and get my life back. but after going in one direction for so long and for so fast, its hard to go backwards, but i suppose it will take time. like a ship being put in reverse; its not going to happen straight away.

Change.

This is one thing that I can safely say I fear, hate and aviod.
Sure, sure; i'm up for trying new things- how can life be fun without a little experimentation, a little adaptation and unknown?And if these new things turn out to be a good thing; something that can be experienced by all those who matter in my life collectively, then change in this aspect is bearable. I can accept, cherish sometimes, when something changes, and everything or everyone that matters changes with it.

But when one idividual thing changes and everything else stays the same; that's when I start to panic.

She used to be so fun. There was never a dull moment when she was around. Everyone wanted to be her (or to be with her). I envied her for her beauty, her wit, her sharp mind. And most of all i envied her for how strong she was. Nothing bothered her; anything that could easily damage the confidence of a lesser being such as myself promptly bounced off her. She had no worries about guys - everyone wanted her, so she could deal with wanting no one.

I suppose love affects people in different ways, but I have never thought that it could replace a whole person (even if it is love- how can she tell from never have being in a relationship before? I know all too well myself how you can be decieved by "love". Especially the first time.) I don't know how, I just know that my best friend has changed - she has been replaced.

He is like a disease on her mind, all consuming, rotting her personality. 5 months seems a pretty short time to decide that you will dedicate your life and soul to one person. She doesn't socialise any more - talking to him on Skype is far more important. I know more people in her flat than she does. She's immobilised when away from him - she was physically homesick from him after two days.

Perhaps I am being too harsh, too judgemental. But I don't like the person that she has become in to; and it appears that that person doesn't like me either. Perhaps it is my fault, but she hasn't spoken to me in over a week- nearly two, because I got way too drunk and forgot to text her when I was going to the Student Union (which is on campus and a 30 second walk from her flat.)

I feel guilty now, I have tried to help her, but she sees no sense. She is always in a bad mood because she spends too much time alone thinking about how much she misses him. She told me that she feels better when she is around other people so that they can distract her. Seems like a simple solution really, but no. It appears that she relies on me to go out with because she has no other friends, but she can't go out anyway because she has no money, despite living in the cheapest accomadation possible. She has no money because she spends it on going home almost every weekend, and buying him a car for him to come up the weekends she doesn't go down ... incase it snows and he can't use the motorbike. And buying him an array of other expensivve christmas presents.

Oh, and she's saving up for a tattoo. One dedicated to him. On her wrist. And she wants to become a doctor. That is, if she doesn't quit so that she can go live off benifits with him.

I don't like change, especially when it steals people from me. Or am I being too harsh? I suppose everyone has to go crazy in love at some point. I just hope she realises before it becomes too late and she ruins her life.