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.

Dedicated To Josh...

Josh was a twelve year old boy, who I didn't know well enough to speak to, but I'd recognise his face or his name. He probably knew my brother and sister better than me. I don't think he even knew my name. As I said, I didn't know him very well, but from what I saw and heard, he was a nice boy and I liked him. He had lots of friends, caring parents and he was very happy. He loved to ride his bike and he was really good at it.

On October 31st, 2008, Josh was riding his bike past the local garage when his bike collided with a van and Josh was killed. His tragic death has shaken everyone who knew him, and even those who didn't. He is already sorely missed and I hope he knew before he died just how loved he was by everyone. Because if he can see his friends now, from Heaven, he'll be able to see just how heartbroken they are without him.

And when I think about it, I can't help but think, surely it should have been me? Josh was loved, treasured, respected and he was happy. So many people have been hurt and crushed by his death and a highly valued life was lost. And all that could have been avoided if it had been me. Someone who is unhappy with their life. It would have been so much better, I'd be gone and Josh would still be down here, riding his bike and playing football and having a good time with all his friends. It's so unfair that he had to be the one that was killed. I guess God just needed another angel and knew he'd be perfect.

But when I think these things, I feel selfish and disrespectful. How can I turn something as awful as a twelve year old boy being killed into something that's about me and what I want? How can I do that? It's disgusting. But I really am shattered by hearing the news of his death and I hope his family and friends can find the strength to help and support each other through this.

Black Mariah.

Sleep Tight, Josh, 1996-2008

I'm Tired...

I don't know what to say today. I'm confused. I've got so many people sticking labels to me but I don't fit in with any of them. I'm tired of being labelled. I'm tired of being told I'm emo but feeling like a poser. I'm tired of feeling stupid and idiotic because I don't understand what's going on. I'm tired of living my life for other people. I'm tired of feeling the need to let go but being unable to because I have to hold on for him. The one person I would truly miss and the one person who wouldn't even know if I lived or died. He's been hurt by suicide before. I can't do that to him again.

But I'm tired of acting. I'm tired of faking, aching, breaking. I'm tired of the fact that if a sick person says "I want to live" they have teams and teams of people rushing to help them but when a healthy person says "I want to die" they are deemed a freak, or insane. I'm tired of knowing that's pathetic. I'm tired of knowing suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I'm tired of feeling sick and confused. I'm tired of feeling like I'm drowning but haven't died. I'm tired of feeling like I need to inflict physical pain on myself to mask the other pain. I'm tired of knowing it's not working but doing it anyway. I'm tired of the elated feeling I get when I see my blood. I'm tired of that blood being the only thing I have to be proud of and the only thing I should be really ashamed of.

I'm tired of feeling guilty. It's like, everything I say about what I do, what I think, what I feel, no matter what it is, I feel like I'm lying. Even though every word of it is true, I feel guilty, like I'm dramatising it. Maybe it's because honestly, I don't want there to be something wrong with me. So I convince myself that everything is normal, I'm fine, maybe I just do things differently to otherr people. But I know that's wrong, so I'm lying again. And I don't want to feel guilty. Guilt was given to us as an unpleasant emotion, one we do not wish to experience, and therefore, we should not do things we'll feel guilty for. And you can make your guilt go away by making up for the bad things you've done but what if you're feeling guilty for telling the truth? For trying to express yourself, for trying to help yourself? There's nothing I can do, unless maybe, I'm meant to suffer in silence? Maybe I'm meant to die? Things happen for a reason and maybe suicide is the way I'm meant to go?

But I can't do that to him. Not after what happened last time. When she killed herself, when she did it, they blamed it on him. Not so much him as all of them. The five of them. And I don't think she meant for it to happen. I don't think she meant for her actions to cause him so much agony. And I could try and make sure before I did it, try to make it known that he is the reason I am holding on to life now and he is the only one I'd ever feel sad about leaving but I can't guarantee they'll believe me, can I? Someone will blame him and he will feel the consequences for something that only I could ever have made the decision to do. How can someone make you commit suicide? Either you choose to kill yourself, or they kill you.

And that's why I'm so confused. If I'm meant to die this way, why have I been led to him? To all of them? Why is every cell of my body begging me to end this but every ounce of my soul holding on, purely out of love and respect for him. I won't hurt him like she did. Even if it hurts me.

Black Mariah.

Thoughts Of Drowning...

Watch me fade into the shadows
It's something I'm good at now
Leaving the safety of the shallows
To where I'll make my final vow
Fall down into the ice cold water
Let it take control of me
Help me become another daughter
Of the dead to set me free
And I will never take another breath
Through this heart break and haunting pain
Step happily into the arms of death
Because I'll never see life again.

Today...

Hello, again

I had quite a good day today but then when I got home I just totally crashed. I felt tired, miserable, angry, crowded even though there was no one in the room with me. I really don't understand why this is happening to me. I hate it. So much goes on in my head and there's so little I can do to describe it. I want to talk to somebody but I can't. There's no one that would listen, no one that would understand. No one I can trust to keep it to themselves. There's certain people I really don't want to know about this. My parents. My best friend (not the one who actually does know and doesn't care). My brother and sister. I don't want them to know. I don't. And I know that if I tell anyone then they'd just end up telling everyone else and I don't want that. I know they'd just be trying to help, but only I can really know what I think would help me and telling someone wouldn't. It'd just make me even more stressed and put me under even more pressure which could easily tip me over the edge that I'm only just balancing on right now. Right now, I really hate my life and I don't think it would be hard to end it at all.

Keep The Tears Falling

Let me keep the tears falling

They let me know I'm still alive

Let the rain keep on pouring

It's what I need just to survive

Let me keep the tears falling

And let me feel the pain

Let the rain keep on pouring

But nothing will I gain

Let me keep the tears falling

From my soul that I can't save

Let the rain keep on pouring

Like little kisses on my grave

Sometimes I wish I was ghost and I could go about my day as I would if I was there and see how much people actually cared that I was missing.

Oh, shoot, I have a four page english essay to write for tomorrow!

That's a really bad way to sign off but I have to go.

Sorry. Please come back soon and leave a comment!

Black Mariah.

Taking A Break...

Hi again

I think I might post a poem every time I write a new post. People say poetry is a good way of expressing yourself which I'm having a hard time doing at the moment. And I write a lot of poetry. I'm just too scared to let people read them because I know they're not good. But on here nobody knows who I am so I don't care if they hate it. I wrote one which is really long but it's one of the best so what I'm going to do is sort of...chop it up and put the most important bits (to me) down and create a shorter version.

Untitled

There's blood on the tissues, blood on the walls

What have I done? Another tear falls

Can't keep doing this, makes my heart break

But with no one to turn to, it's my form of escape

Lock in the darkness, lock in the pain

More blood is drawn, here comes the rain

It's self expression, never call it self harm

And then in seconds see the blood on my arm

Look in the mirror, there's nothing to see

Skin stained so red, that girl isn't me

Eyes so dark, seen things so wrong

Give me a week, my life won't last long

Won't make it to Heaven, don't send me to hell

Tried to make it all work, just didn't do it well

I never wanted it to be this way

But I lied when I said I was okay

There's no one to talk to, not anymore

Find me dying on the bathroom floor

Don't hold me back, don't try pleading

Just let me go, I'll keep on bleeding

In this bed with sheets so stained

Hear me laughing as my life is drained

And when you see the ghost of my final smile

You'll know I've wanted this for quite a while

And when you think of me, don't ever cry

It was all I wanted, just to die.

I'm not actually supposed to be on here, I have eight pieces of homework that desperately need doing so I'm going to leave you all now before my mum comes in and starts yelling at me. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think of the poem. I'm curious as to how my work is actually recieved. Wow, that sounded so posh! I'm curious as to how my work is actually recieved. Ha! Anyway, going now!

Thanks for reading (again) come back soon!

Black Mariah.

Another Day...

Hi again, people who actually are reading this.

I'm really surprised about that. But thanks for taking an interest in what I have to say.

I haven't got a lot to say today. I'm just in one of those moods where words don't really help. So I'll post a poem I wrote a few days ago. I wrote a lot that day so I'll only pick one.

Who I Used To Be

I used to call these eyes blue

Now I call them grey

I used to talk for hours on end

Now there's nothing left to say

I used to have all I wanted

Now secrets are all I own

I used to feel so in place

Now I just want to find my home

I used to think you were my friends

Now I know exactly where I stand

I used to think I knew what to do

Now death is all that I have planned

I used to do so many things

Now all I do is bleed

I used to ask God when I was unsure

Now I just have to plead

I used to be so sure of life

Now I'm not sure of anything at all

I used to fly with everyone else

Now I just watch them while I fall

It's not one of the better ones I wrote that day, but it's one of the shortest ones. The longer ones are much better but they go on forever and I can't be bothered writing it down again. And for some reason my computer has an issue with copy and pasting at the moment, so.

In my sad, sad, sad little life, I'll probably be back writing again within five minutes, but I'm going to go now. I'll probably be back with another short poem I wrote yesterday or something, I don't know. See how predictable I am? Anyway, thanks for reading and thanks for the comments! Come back again soon!

Black Mariah

So Much More Than Just A Thought...

You're always on my mind
Can't even escape you if I
Shut my eyes
I just see your face inside
My head and I tried
To forget you but I cried
I couldn't let you go and I
Can't live without you
But you can't stay in my head
You and I
We're so different but we could make it work
I just want to be friends, no more or maybe
We could try?
No, I'd mess you up I never want to see you hurt
Do you know what I'd do to get you to see
In my eyes
You're so much more than just a thought to me
You're on my mind so constantly
I love you, you've done so much for me
And you never even knew
I know what I'd do
Just to get to see you
You're so much more than just a thought to me
You're a Way of getting through the day
You showed me the Way
You're so much more than just a thought to me

One Day Since Yesterday...

I'm bored. I've been downloading music off the internet. I love technology. Nothing makes me as happy as I get when I get a new CD or song on my mp3 player that I really love. Or don't know and can grow to love. I know that's really sad. But music is absolutely my life. Especially one band. I got really bad a couple of months back. Properly depressed and really suicidal. I had my death planned out, how I was going to do it, the date, I even wrote a suicide note and I was all ready but then I started listening to the band and their music totally changed the way I looked at what I was doing. I thought suicide was a way of winning. But they showed me it's just giving the game up. They showed me that I can fight this depression. They're the reason I'm trying. If it weren't for them, I'd be dead right now.

Oh my God. I'm really trying to keep this on a positive note, but I haven't been doing a very good job. But it doesn't matter, because no one's reading this. I don't blame them, to be honest, I'm broadcasting all the worst things about my life. Nothing about my amazing friends---at least the ones I still see, my real friends---or my hobbies---would any of you have ever guessed that I'm a figure skater?---or anything like that. Just all the sad, rubbish stuff.

I'm going now. I think I might delete this blog soon. Even if no one knows who I am, is it really the best idea to go round shouting about all this? What if someone I know, by chance, reads this and figures out it's me??? I'll think about it!

Black Mariah

A Little More....Actually, A Lot More, I'm Sorry It's So Long!!!

I know I was just on here like a second ago, but I've got nothing else to do. Usually I hang out with my friends on a Friday. I don't know why today's any different. But oh well. Just means I have more time to bore anyone who might possibly decide to read this. By the way, if you do for some reason read this, can you leave me a comment? Anything? Just to let me know I'm not rambling on to no one? If that's the case, I might as well just delete the blog. Find some other way of doing what I want to do. Have I even mentioned what I'm trying to do? I don't know. I'm forgetful.

I read back my last couple of posts a moment ago. Can I just point out that yes, my depression causes me to go all...you know...depressing like that, but it's not all the time. Like right now, I'm totally fine. I'm actually kind of embarrassed at posting that poem and that explanation. But that is what it's like! Sometimes. Not all the time. Most of the time I'm just like any other teenager. I like music. I like going out. I like guys. Even if a certain special guy never even looks my way...honestly, seven years I've known him and I don't think I've ever spoken to him. But I will. Maybe not while I'm still trying to reintroduce my brain to the concept of sanity, but I will talk to him. Wish me luck! I'll find myself going on and on and on about him, probably, even though I know little more about him than his name. Maybe the comment you leave could be: We are all very aware that you like this guy. Can you either talk to him or shut up? Something along those lines, feel free! Anyway, my point was supposed to be please don't feel sorry for me and please don't be patronising to anyone you might know with depression. Only my best friend knows about mine, but it still gets on my nerves every time someone says to me: Are you okay? Are you sure you're okay? I'm worried about you. You look depressed. Ha ha. Well spotted. Newsflash! I know you're all trying to be nice, but it doesn't help letting me know that I LOOK depressed as well as feel it!

Weekend! Woop woop! Raving with my friends! Probably not, actually. Was supposed to be going out with them but not anymore. I hardly ever see anyone anymore. I think I'm starting to scare them off. It's quite sad, really. Just because I look different doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me. Why is it that people find skinny jeans and eyeliner and sidefringes and Converse so hard to cope with??? My friends are all really happy, lighthearted, cheerful people and because most of them have no idea what goes on inside my head, I think they're either scared of me or just getting fed up with my mood changes. I don't really help myself, I mean. I know it's my fault that I'm driving them away. I can't help it though. I feel like I'm drowning in myself. Sick, twisted and often deathly thoughts go through my head, I go cold and I feel like someone's trying to squash me. I can't help the fact that when this happens in the middle of a Science lesson I go a bit quiet, or fidgety.

I have only just realised what a pathetically long post this is. Like anyone's ever going to bother reading this! I really need to get a life, don't I???? I'm off now to find some other way of keeping my mind...active? Away from anything that could make me go weird again. Away from anything that could cause me any harm. So, I'll be back. Hopefully not as quickly as I was this time, because that would just be insanely sad.

Thanks for at least attempting to read this! See you soon! Leave a comment!

Black Mariah.

Those Icy Hands

There's nothing left to say

Another endless day

Did you watch me fade away?

Think of me when you pray?

In the coffin I just lay

My features stony grey

Like I was made from clay

Waiting for you babe

But you're never coming

My heart is black

My hands are red

I'm coming back

Back from the dead

The life I lack

And all I said

Feel it crack

Inside your head

But you're never coming

Can you hear me calling for you?

Things you thought you always knew

I'd always hoped you'd help me through

But there was nothing you could ever do

So you're never coming.

Sorry. I always get nervous about my work, whether it's poems or drawings or stories or whatever, I never think they're good. I just want to explain that that poem WAS about me. It's all metaphorical. I'm not dead, obviously, but in my head I am. Not all the time. It's just when the depression takes over, it's like some hands are wrapped round my chest, freezing me, crushing me to death and in my head I'm already dead. I welcome the hands. They just want to help me find where I belong.

I used to just lie on my bed, sit in my classes in silence, waiting for the hands to come. The feeling I get when they come. I can't breathe, I hear things and see things in my head, I can't think about anything about the crushing feeling. But it made me feel strong. I can feel pain. I felt it all the time. I still do. The hands come all the time. But I'm fighting them. I don't want anyone (again, if anyone reads this) to read this and think anything except she's fighting it. She's trying. And if you feel the hands too, if you're suffering from depression like me, we're not alone. We're in this together. No one else can help us. We're not some emo death cult or whatever it is they think. We're an army. I know it's hard. I know every day feels like a battle against the world. I know how draining it is to put on a happy face and pretend like everything's okay. I know how sickening it is to watch your own blood fall and know you caused it.

We can do it. I can do it. I'll get through this. And I'll do it on my own.

Thanks for reading. Please come back soon!

Black Mariah.

Welcome To Black Mariah.

Obviously, it's like, the Number One Safety Rule to never EVER give out any of your details over the internet. I don't want people to know who I am anyway. I just want to get my word across, let people know what I'm thinking. If anyone actually wants to listen. At least I know I've said what I want to say. So those few people, if any people, that want to listen to what I have to say will know me as Black Mariah. I might be interested in different music and I might always be the one to go out in black skinny jeans with tons of eyeliner and I might be the one that has some issues with her head at the moment but I hope that in becoming Black Mariah, I'll be able to say all the things that I could never say to my friends as myself. I hope that I'll be able to show myself that it's not all bad. I hope I'll be able to show myself that I really am just a normal teenaged girl. Just like all the others...

Black Mariah