Journal

I feel like I must explain myself a little. I disappeared as I always do and then I came back briefly yet I didn't actually help anyone. I've been here a year and half (wow) and I owed you all much more than I gave you in the time I was here. Granted I was good. I was damn good and I was helpful I think (I hope) at times to many people.

But I made my friends and left them all at once. I continue to do the same thing that was done to me to stop it happening again. I've cut and I've bled and I've cried but hey who hasn't. I cannot be dependant on anyone and I cannot be hurt. A dangerous and lonely combination I'm afraid. I must be entirely honest in the past few months I have not been happy. At all. I have been stable. I have built my peace around me. I have survived. I have steadied my hand and I have bitched whined and at times stomped my way through my life. I have and will always say that I am not depressed anymore.

I am lonely. I am tired. I am bored. I am surviving. But I'm going to say it right here and right now I know it is and will never be enough to survive. I would rather die doing something I loved than live in mundane peace. It is killing me. It is depressing me that in a futile attempt to protect myself I have damaged myself in ways I could not have imagined. Anyone reading this I can name on one hand: hazel, NewView, PepsiOne, PowerOut, Winny maybe a few others. Eventually hopefully you whoever you are will come to see that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for my neglect and I'm sorry for my ingratitude. There was and still is love for this place. But I can't come back. Not for a while anyways. Even when I'm bad even when I do spend that one or two three days even in limbo I will keep going and I will persevere. I did this week.

Suicidal tendencies are something that will never leave me or anyone else in their time of need. I have learnt to accept them as acts of passion rather than desperation in my case. I am still glad of and will never hide my scars. They remind me of what I was, that I'm still searching for what I actually am. The fog has lifted. I am blinded by the world. It's beauty, it's ugliness, it's pure hideous fabulous complexity and despite everything I am interested. Yet I cannot access it without looking within my own heart, my own self. I cannot hide here anymore.

I look at this room, within these four walls a replacement for the ones I sat in the year before and the year before that. God if I was ever crazy I never needed a sickbed or a section. I built my own. Fabulously independantly dependant upon my own self-doubt and hatred.

Thought it was forgotten. But no. I see it everytime it is denied. Everytime I convince myself that despite being only a UK size 12 I'm huge or I'm too ugly to wear something. That I'm too plain despite being told my entire life I'm pretty. Convinced by my own self-determination and intelligence that I can win. A strange mix. However perhaps I didn't count upon my own habits. So I've decided once and for all this chapter of my life is over. 2009 is going to be amazing. Not like 2008, 2007 or especially 2006. This is over. I promised myself. More importantly I promise my family. I will try. And I will succeed.

To speak with such conviction and have it all fall to crap is a hell of a thing to endure. Such is my paradox. Apparently i am the Jungian artist-scientist. I am brilliant academically, but everyday life, relationships escape me according to that. Well if they escape me they're still fucking there to find aren't they? I'm trying. I'm trying to work with myself for myself. I'm not rebelling for the sake of it. I'm not listening to others negativity. I'm doing what I want to do be it good or bad. I'm doing everything and all for the people I love and for myself. Fuck the rest of the world in that department.

So I've decided to make my lists, objectives for the day. I've been trying for the past week to get by. I was very down about coming back, about my friend dying. Spent forever drinking the week before I came back because I'm never sure I can carry myself. I guess like U2 say though the only baggage you can bring is all that you can't leave behind. Ghosts have no power over you. But they do.

I saw Tony yet again. In the pub with some friends from work. He drawled over me that my mother was yet again a bitch basically. I just smiled raised my eyebrows and didn't say a thing because I know how futile it is. That is an improvement on crying. Or just indulging him. I still can't bring myself to say a single word to him. He doesn't scare me. He just disgusts me. He appears beneath me in so many ways, beneath everyone I've ever known with a soul. He appears to me the lowest form of life sometimes. And he frustrates me. So he started to raise his voice that if I had something to say I should 'fucking' say it. I'd said nothing at this point. Then it was I 'couldn't be arsed' to say something. He had nothing to say about the fact that I'd left for uni. Told me Birmingham was a shit heap, offhandedly. I just walked away from him. Then I cried. Then he left. Without a word. I was kinda drunk so I know why I cried otherwise i don't think I'd have bothered. I always see him New Year somewhere around. Three years in a row. Still he is what he is. It is my problem now, that association. So I'm going to attempt to get some counselling. I checked up before I left but it was too late since I'd be home before they could book me in for evaluation.

Last week I continued to write and research a vital essay despite feeling like shit despite wanting to slash my wrists. Despite hearing bad news. I figure now that maybe my work rather than be a hinderance can be my salvation in many ways. I've figured out a plan. Whether I stick to it or not is a matter of patience but I'll give it my all. I had to organise myself quite literally day by day in objectives too. I got far more done than I usually do despite feeling like utter crap so I think I'll stick to that since my own brain is far too smashed to organise itself. I've applied for the university counselling survice student-to-student but as a counsellor since thanks to you all I survived so much. I enjoyed helping. I was never altruistic. I loved that you were all fucked up as well as wanting to fix it because I didn't feel so bad either then. I loved seeing people improve even despite feeling a little jealous sometimes. I want to do that again, in a smaller format. So I am.

I'm making twice weekly (or at least once) visits to the job centre and online. I'm also attempting to get an internship at the The Echo newspaper over Summer. I just have to keep organising how I'm doing this whole thing. A day at a time. I have small objectives like simply starting up a conversation with people in seminars which so far I've kept to but hey it's the first week and yeah we all know this probably won't be the last you see of me but I have to try.

I'm building a life here. This is what I'm here to do. This is what I'm studying for. Not to go running back home and settle into old ways. I have to leave some things behind.

DS yes but not you reading this. I do not know anything I can say that will make me seem like less of....whatever it is I must appear like to keep coming and going like this. All I want to say and I all will do is wish you good luck and hope you wish me the same.

I'm leaving my email address at the end of this entry and I hope to see some of you through email or msn etc. If not I completely understand.

I'm heading into the storm. I'm giving up my peace at least in part for something new. I hope I succeed. I hope despite everything I don't come back for what it will signify. I'm also keeping my journal for myself now as part of helping face myself for real now. Writing is helped only by the person you are not by the projection you show others. I'm studying Oscar Wilde too this semestre. Bring it on.

As much love as I can give,

Adios Amigos, Take good care of yourselves.

You deserve it.

Katey Alice

Gerra2k2@hotmail.com