Blind....

I don't see the point. Everything's gone dark. I'm tired and cold all the time. I scream but no one can hear me.
I'm bleeding and crying.
I've got my pills.
And I want to die.
Just waiting for a better day.
Who knows if I'll be back.
If not, thank you for your support and your comments.
I guess no one can save me now.
No one can fix something they don't know is broken.

Black Mariah.

I'm Back...

Hi, again, guys.
This is going to have to be a really super quick post because I have a Maths test TOMORROW and I'm going to FAIL because I haven't studied AT ALL and I SUCK at Maths. Slightly overboard on the capitals there, but what can I say?
I'm trying to stop cutting. People have started calling me emo at school and they don't even know about the cutting. I was really flattered when they called me that but I'm aware that people already assossiate emo with self harm. I wasn't at all the way I am now when I started like aaaaages ago, but I know if people find out they'll blame emo. And the last thing I want is for my school to go all psycho on us and make us stop wearing what we like (we do have a uniform, but we can get away with personalizing) and make us all completely cloney conformisty unindividually boring looking. I really don't want that.
Technically, the reason I'm trying to stop cutting is because I absolutely hate the fact that I'm so addicted to it. I hate hiding all the scars, I hate lying to people. I thought the scars looked really cool, but they don't. They get in the fucking way. Can't wear shorts, have to hide when I'm getting changed for PE. It's horrible, completely life controlling. And I'm still pretty much depressed, but it's much less frequent. I'm completely bipolar at the moment. Totally high and totally low. It's weird, but that's just me! Ha, guess how I'm feeling now? High!
I just thought I'd inform you nice, supportive people that I'm trying to stop. And I'll probably be back here in a week depressed and suicidal and pathetic because that's seemingly the way I work right now. Plus I'll have failed a Maths test. But that's not really a reason to go suicidal, is it?
BUT just because I won't go suicidal over it does not mean that I'm okay with failing it, so I'm going to go and study now, because I've got tons of other stuff to do tonight as well and I'm going to bed in a couple of hours.
Happy Thursday people, and I'm sorry if I've weirded you out with my strange bipolar ways.
Thanks for reading! Comment please!!

Black Mariah.

I'm Sick Of Trying....

Hi again, guys

I think I only tend to write on this blog when I'm really depressed. I think the reason I was away for like, two weeks was because I was totally fine. I was still cutting myself, but that's just me. That's an addiction like any other, drugs and alcohol and all that crap. I was having a great time but then last night I just crashed.

I don't know what made me. Last night, I shut myself off from everyone for four hours. That's not a good thing to do when you're like me. Hating yourself. Spending four hours, depressed and alone with someone you hate....There's a lot you can do to your body in four hours. And while it felt so good last night, while the falling blood helped me to escape, helped me to...I don't know what...now, I'm left with the consequences. That's the thing with this addiction. When you go to sleep, you have to carefully position yourself so you're not lying on your cuts. That hurts. When your getting changed for a gym class....that's an interesting experience, we'll put it that way. When you knock the area that's been cut (in my case, the top of my right leg) you have to struggle not to wince in pain because people will wonder why. You have to sneak off on your own to the school bathroom to check if the bleeding has started again. It changes everything.

But I have to do it. I wear the pain on the outside because I can't put it into words. I wear the cuts like a badge. I hate them, I'm proud of them. I hate that I'm proud of them and I'm proud that I hate them. The cuts are me because they are all I'm sure of now. I thought I knew my friends, turned out I don't. I thought I knew my family, turns out I really don't. I thought I knew myself, but I never thought I'd be a self harmer. I guess I don't know anything for sure. All I know is the cuts.

And the more I cut, the more I want to. The deeper I want to go.

The more I want to bleed.

That's all I really want.

To bleed.

Or to die.

I'm sick of trying and failing. I'm sick of living. I'm sick of hating who I am and being unable to change it.

I've become everything I hate and I've lost everything I love.

It's time to give up.

So why can't I?

Black Mariah

Don't Want To Let Go....

Hi guys. It's been a while....

Well, all you lucky people (like, the one or two who do read this) are very lucky because I am SO in the mood for a rant right now. If you happen to have a thing about teenaged girls bitching, then you may not want to read this. I'm going to try and be as un-bitchy as possible, but I can't be held responsible for what I'm saying.

I'm am so fed up of people sayind "you're my best friend" and not meaning it. We are totally killing the whole concept of best friends. People! BEST FRIENDS IS A PROMISE, NOT A LABEL! REMEMBER THAT! I'm the stupidest person in the world. I thought that I would be able to trust me supposed "best friends" to keep that promise. I thought they cared. I thought they were friends. But I know now that they aren't. I wish I wasn't the pathetic sort of person to hide who I am and just bitch about my friends on the internet. I wish I was the sort of person who could tell them all exactly what I think. I wish I was the sort of person who could just let go of them. But I don't want to let go.

The more I hold on, the harder it gets. The more I hold on, try to stay connected, the more I see them moving away and there's nothing I can fucking do about it. I'm apologizing for my language now. I don't know what's got me so wound up right now. It's just....seeing them all like that and knowing that I used to be like them, I used to be one of them. Knowing that they've changed, and I've accepted that but then they can't accept me for what I've become. That's the only reason I'm so mad at them. If they could just look at me and see me as the girl they used to, then I would be fine with that. I might be able to let them go and start new memories with my real friends.

People change. That's life. That's just the way things go. If they didn't, then things would be insanely boring. There'd be no point to like, anything. There is no point to anything. If you don't change, you're a clone. If you do change, you're a freak. What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm screwed no matter what I do. I know that you can hardly ever get exactly what you want in life. That whole "so, you want to have your cake and eat it too?" thing. Well, duh! Of course I do. What the hell is the point in having a cake if you can't eat it?

I'm only making sense to myself right now. Sorry if you're lost. If you knew my friends, if you could see exactly what's happening to me right now, you'd understand.

But it's not just me this is happening to. There's my friend....we'll call her Alex....She's a total slut. I'm sorry if people take offence at that word and I'm sorry if people think I'm being totally unfair, but she is. Everyone knows it. Even she does. Totally unrelated to the story, but she called me the other day to "gloat" because she had a "hot new boyfriend" but she was really "depressed" because she'd gone to a party where she'd had "ten guys all over her" and she already had a boyfriend. Ha ha, s-l-u-t!

Anyway, she's been flirting with two of her friends boyfriends (even though, in the past three weeks, she's had three boyfriends) and now she's being totally dragged down by these girls (not the guy's girlfriends, but the guy's girlfriends friends) and she's struggling. I don't know what to do. Should I help her, be nice to her? Even though her life's desire seems to be to make me so jealous of her that I'll start foaming at the mouth? Or should I just let her fade away into nothingness, like she did to me? Even though she promised me we'd be best friends forever. She was never one to keep promises anyway.

I need to accept that life as I knew it, is over. It's time to end it altogether, or let go and make a new one.

But I don't want to let go.

And that's the problem.

Black Mariah.

Never Is A Promise...

The images went a little bit wrong, sorry about that

Because you can never tell me
That I'm perfect in your eyes
And you can never hold me
And wash away my cries

And I'll never be this sorry

I'm sorry for my lies

I told you I'd keep holding on

Even knowing I will die

So when I take this school tie

And hang myself from this beam

I'll choke the words "I love you"

And leave with one last scream

And there will never be another who can

Make me feel the way I do

Because never is a promise

And I can never have you

Thank you, and especially to whoever Mariah is, who keeps leaving me little comments, they're really appreciated because they do really help me!

Black Mariah.

Silent Screaming...

Once, I was told that you can get whatever you want as long as you do what you can to get it. Once, I was told that if you really want something, then you will do what you can to get it. Once, I was told that if you aren't sure if you'd do anything to get something, then you don't really want it. But is it possible to really want something and then change your mind. Or does that mean you never wanted it to begin with? I always thought I wanted to grow up, get married and have kids. That's all I wanted. But now, when I see kids, I see ugly, screaming things that take your sleep and steal your youth. When I see marriage I see safety, predicability, knowing what's going to happen day after day. Boredom. When I see growing up....I don't. That's the thing. I can't picture myself living after at the most sixteen. And even that seems hard. Too hard.

Once, I was told this gets harder. That I'm sure of. Every time something bad happens, I convince myself that this is it. This is truly rock bottom. But then the ground opens up and a whole new rock bottom is created and it starts again. That's it. It can't get any worse. But it always does. And it always will. I know that now.

I can't sleep, can't think, can't breathe without that feeling now. That feeling of something sitting on your chest, crushing all the air out of your lungs. Or sometimes the feeling of very cold fingers clawing at my chest, tearing apart all of my skin and then ripping at my heart. I feel it all the time and I can't get rid of it. I tell myself it's stupid. I tell myself I'm stupid. I tell myself anything and everything, anything I think will make the feeling stop but it won't. I'm sick of feeling that pain. I'm sick of feeling.

Today, I was sitting in an English lesson, looking round at everyone else having fun. I didn't say one word throughout the whole lesson. No one tried to talk to me. No one ever does. Everyone else was laughing together, having fun, making jokes. I mean, granted, as I watched, I saw why we're considered the worst behaved year group in the school and our school's one of the worst behaved schools in the area. But that's England for you. The most dangerous thing about England is us, the teenagers. Not usually the ones our age, at fourteen and fifteen, but that's where lots of us are headed. I notice the looks I get when I walk down the street, dressed in black with one eye totally covered by my hair and the visible one practically tattooed with very heavy eyeliner. I wouldn't hurt anyone other than myself. I'm not like that, but it won't stop people being scared of me. I'm pretty tall for fourteen, too.

As I watched people, I thought, Why can't I be like them? Why can't I force that happiness on myself? I've almost giving up pretending now. People honestly, hand on heart, don't pay any attention to what I say or do. I could probably shave my head in the middle of the school yard and the only thing people would see would be the red hair falling.

As I watched them, I saw that special boy and I saw the way he was looking at those other girls. And when I looked at those girls, they were smiling, laughing, joking. And what makes that all worse is they were being themselves. I know he hates fakers, so that's me ruled out anyway with how I pretend all the time. And then if I stopped pretending and was really myself, he'd hate that too.

If I'm someone else, I'm hated. If I'm myself, I'm hated. If I don't kill myself, I'll never know if suicide is the answer. If I do kill myself, I'll never know if suicide is the answer. I'm screwed either way. I'm screwed anyway.

I'm going to die anyway. What's the point in forcing myself through all this shit just to die when I'm done? What's the point in anything when ultimately, your reward is death? Death would be rewarding for me right now. It's what I want. Just to die.

What I really want is my needle. What I really want is to bleed.

Black Mariah.

Pessimist...

Hi again, you cool people!!

Everyone's really cut up about Josh. School's just not the same. Everywhere you go you can feel how bad people are feeling right now. It's awful. You can hear people talking about him and you can tell by what they're saying that he was really loved and liked by everyone and it's just so sad. It's one of those things that you can't control and you can't fix. And it's one of those things where the world would be a much better place if it had never happened.

Weird....I just heard the word "optimist" on TV. Just thought I'd put that down as I titled this "pessimist".

Anyways, the whole point to the title of this blog is that yesterday, in light of the historic event of Barack Obama being elected to be the next president of America (even though I don't live in America I'm really happy about that) and after playing us his "Yes, We Can" speech where he talks about that one hundred and six year old woman and all the changes she's seen, our History teacher asked us to write an essay thing on "If I Lived To See The Next Century, What Changes Would I Expect To See?". So basically, I sat down last night trying to think...if I lived until I was, what? Wow, one hundred and six, just like that woman! Anyway, I sat down thinking, if I lived until I was one hundred and six and I got to see the 22nd century, what would I see?

It only took me about ten or fifteen minutes to write down a whole page and there was nothing positive on there. It was all about war, global warming, extinction, over crowded prisons (which, let's face it, is always going to be a problem when you live somewhere like England), financial problems and all that kind of thing. And maybe that is going to be the future of the planet but I was pretty much the only one who thought like that. Is that because I can see the planet for what it really is? Deteriorating? Or is it just because in my deteriorating mind, if it's going down, everything else must be going down with it? Is it because I've become so depressed, I really can't see anything good about the planet? Or is it because I've just become a pessimist?

Another thing, totally unrelated, is that I've noticed the way I feel about...everything really, changes around certain people. There's these two friends, really good friends, who I feel relaxed around and things look up. It's easy to laugh and I see the funny side to everything, even things that aren't funny. Things seem brighter when I'm with them but I don't feel like I could talk to them about this, or go to them for help with the whole cutting issue. But then, I have these other two friends, who are also really good friends, or at least used to be, who I feel really stressed around. Often I feel sick, and I don't know why that happens. And when I'm with them, I don't feel like I can be myself, but somehow, I feel I'm more myself around them than I ever am and especially with one of them, I'll show my dark, miserable side even though I'm afraid to do it. And then with the rest of them, I'm just acting. It's like, no one knows exactly who I am. I don't know who I am, but I know how I feel and that's all I need. But everyone else....the only way I can describe it is with this poem (I don't know who it's by or what it's called, but it says it all)

Everyone sees

Who I appear to be

But only I can know the real me

You can only see

What I choose to show

And there's so much more

You just don't know

Describes it perfectly.

Posting that poem has now made me want to post one of my own.

Unfortunately I can't. I have to go because even though I don't think I have any written homework, I DO have to go and study for a test I have tomorrow. A hard test apparently. Brilliant. I'm so stressed out with school at the moment!

Thanks for reading.

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease leave a comment and come back soon. Let me know I'm still being listened to. In a way.

Black Mariah.