I wake up in the middle of the night. Panicing over something. Hands and feet cold like ice. Heart pounding.
In the mirror I see a terrible looking person. This gloomy, pail, skinny girl, dark under the eyes, thin hair, big dead eyes. She scares the shit out of me. I blink my eyes, and after a while I can see myself again.
My old self. Chubby cheeks, doublechin, little pig eyes.
I've been fasting forever now. Does not seem to help. I still feel....greasy. Fat. I'm still dirty. And I don't feel any better. At all.
I was almost hit by a car today. Damn thing wouldn't have happened if I didn't have to walk everywhere. I really need to get a ride. This is getting redicilous. The walking.
Soon is Halloween, and it's crazy here. But more important, it's some kind of street festival coming up. Flora's been talking about it like it's the party of the year but I'm not that sure. However there's buzz even among the uber-chick indie bitches drinking my coffee at Floras. So I guess it's gonna be nice concerts, at least. See u there?
One pathetic time in my life I used to cut myself. Not deep. I never wanted to die. Just shallow, thin lines so I could watch the blood run down my arms, like it was searching for something. Like I was searching for something.
(I didn't eat and cut myself with razorblades, wonder why I had such a hard time making friends.)
I never got why some people would'nt let me do what I wanted with my own body though. It was mine. It was me who I did it to. Why were they so involved?
Mom was by my side the whole time. She washed my cuts clean and bought me lemons. For several weeks lemons were the only thing I ate. They made my stomache hurt like hell but I told myself that that was good. That it was the vitamins taking care of my body, killing all the bad stuff I had in me.
Mom never said a hard word to me. She never judged me or told me that I was stupid making my arms look like a wall in a cell in a old prison movie. She never forced me to eat. She never asked me why I just could'nt.
When I was three years old I got very sick. Mum told me that I sat under the table when she was making dinner and suddenly just fainted. She rushed to the hospital and after some tests the doctor told her that I had meningitis. I have a few memories of this, but strangely they are all good ones. I remember how cool it felt to have a IV-needle in my hand. The red balloons mum bought me, the colorful playroom with all the fun toys and the kind doctors.
Mum says I almost died and that she was terrified.
10 years later I was at the hospital again. This time because they tought I had anorexia. Maby I did. I still don't know.
I loved hospitals. The kind doctors with their worried eyes and the smell of clean people. I loved the attention, that they cared for me. That I made them so angry.
Met up with Kim yesterday. She's a regular at Floras coffeeshop, kind of easy to spot her among the hordes of hipsters and indiekids. Had a great time. She picked me up with her car in the early noon and we went to the beach, talked and watched people. I had no idea the highways could be as beautiful as in California. So sweet, she made some vegan food but I still have to fast. Maybe she understands. I wasn't sure what she wanted. Always in control of myself; never in control of the world.
Kim, if you read this? I think I found the song they played on the radio. We listened to it on the way home in the car. Kind of fitting, since we had been talking about our future. It's mostly looking like hammered shit.
Give me a lake that I can dive into Bury my head in the shit at the bottom Fuck today Fuck San Francisco Fuck California I realize I never gave you a chance I realize I never gave you romance At the top of the hill At the top of the hill Leave me to stream in the current or breeze
Give me a lake that I can dive into Bury my head in the shit at the bottom Fuck today Fuck Oakland Fuck California At the top of the hill At the top of the hill Leave me to stream in the current or breeze Leave me to stream in the current or breeze Leave me to stream in the current or breeze
Hey mum. I like it here. It's very sunny and the people are more open here then back "home". Kind of.
I made some friends, I've linked most of them here if you want to check them out, but also my boss Flora and the regulars at the café. They are a bunch of crazys and their lifes are very different from mine but I do like them.
One thing that bugs me is that people think I'm sick again. You loose a few pounds and suddenly your a anorexic. Fuck. It's like a curse. I will never understand why it's so irritating for people that I don't eat much. I mean, it's good for the environment, it's cheap, and it makes me look better. Also I don't get my period, so I never need to buy tampons and I won't get pregnant (not that I would either way but you know..)
God, I'm not even that skinny.
Would be great if you came here to visit me soon. I really miss you and you would like it here. To be honest, sometimes it feels like I can't do this without you.
Hey dad. I really miss you. Mum says I look like you. That our eyes gets the same color of black when we get angry. I don't know what that means.
Hey dad. Why did you die? The guys in school said you left because I was so ugly and that you did not want me. Was that really the reason? Did you fled from me?
Dad. Why didn't you haunt my classmates like the ghost in The Grudge? I used to daydream about you riding in on a white horse, headless of course, slashing them into blood porridge with an ax. Still do.
Control. I am. In control. I demand, and conquer, step by step.
However, and I will only explain this once, I like being in control. It's a chosen path. Beaten down by will. My will.
If you are surfing this big wave of life... you can't stop the motion forward. But you can control the board. And choose where on the wave you want to ride. So it has to be a motion in harmony, like yin and yang. If you loose control, life will drown you. If you keep too tight control, you won't have energy enough to reach the top. So, it's all about flow control. Body and mind in a steady flow. And maintaining it by taking precious care of the body, and mind.
Therefore: continuing the fast whilst keeping Flora unknowing and doing some extra yoga.
I just came back from a short walk and some tea-shopping. Finding good tea isn't easy, althou moving to LA certainly has made things easier. So many asians around here it's crazy, but it's easy to get hold of some real nice teas. Anyways, today I didn't have the time to plunge into the asian hoods, instead I took a small walk to the reservoir, Ivanhoe... hahha... and strolled the Silver Lake Blvd down to where it crosses the Strip. About halfways is the Lamill Coffee. Just heard about it, but today I walked past it I just had to go in and check it out. Almost fell in love with this beautiful brewer.
Feeling kind of high, starting the fast over again.
Yes. Well. Fast is off I guess. My boss Flora made me eat some cake today. She made it especially for me so I could'nt say no. Or, of course I could. But I did'nt want to break the poor womans heart. So, I had a small, small piece of cake. Feel kind of ill now. And bad. Now I have to start all over again with the fast. Crap. Cake. Crapcake.
Next time I will not tell her about it. Maby she get's off my back.
On my tenth birthday I got a kitten ("Myran") from my mum. For a long time I did not know what to do with the little thing. She was so small and soft and...I don't know...cute. In many ways, she was a ridiculous animal. Sad excuse for a cat.
Afraid of everything, needy, clumsy and lazy. I remembered reading a book about a kitten being put in a bag and then trown into the river. Sad story for everybody involved. I thought about that for a while. But it was to far to the river. Mum would'nt let me go there on my own. Maby I could just strangle the little kitten? I've heard about small babyes dying in their sleep, this "infant death" thing. Maby that applies to kittens aswell? Hm. No.
I decided to give the pathetic animal a chance, and after a few weeks I really started to love the fucking thing. Myran and I became really good friends, and I regretted wanting to murder her before. She slept in my bed every night, warmed my feet when I was cold.
The day before my thirteenth birthday Myran was run over by a car. The car did'nt stop and Myran did't die. At once. Half her body (the end part) was kind of...flat and soft (In a bad way), and she screamed like an old lady with a troat issue. Mum had to ask out neighbor to take her to the back of our house and shoot her.
Mark: - "If u dont Fuck or cant 4 some reason, then u dont deserve to use the work Fuck. When u forgive yourself first for your self- unkindness then u will see why you have been fucked by so many and 4 so long. Iggnorant people will always be prejudice people."
I have a problem with forgiveness. I can't forgive my classmates for making my life hell for nine years. My teachers for letting them. My cat "Myran" for being run over by a car. My dad for dying before I was born. Woody Allen for fucking (and marrying) his adoptive child. My ex boyfriend for making my first kiss horrid. Mona Sahlin for buying "Toblerone" for the states money. R Kelly for pissing on 14 year olds. My mothers best friend for killing herself. And myself for not being able to forgive.
Arrrgh... I'm awake. Already. It's just not right to be up at this time of the day. If it isn't for something important, of course then I'd had to stay awake all life thru. Because life is important.
Anyways. The fast is going on, I heard some people start getting nauseaus from feeling the scent of green tea after a fast but I just keep liking it better. It's such a relief for body and mind, this tea. I get so tired from fasting, my body won't agree with my demands of it. Poor Flora keeps telling me I need to eat more, discreetly but strategically placing her lovely efforts from her kitchen in the small fridge in the café backroom. I find it somewhat hilarious that she's trying to hide animal stuff inside what appears to be vegetarian food - "It's for your own good!". Sweet old lady. Now it's time for the first hour of yoga. One hour in the morning to get the day started, half an hour in the evening to lay me down softly.
I should be sleeping by now but can't, and this nuisance to my health brings me to believe somethings is wrong. Which of course makes me more upset while discontinuing any and all tries to sleep. But less trying and more doing, you might argue.
Anyways, I could as well write off some thoughts of that bitch on my audition last week. I was given a few lines and a simple instruction. When I entered the room it was this jury - four men and two women behind a table. I did my thing with the lines and the grandmother out on the righ wing side just said: Thank you for your participation, we'll call you in a couple of days. No feedback, no information, no nothing. I wanted to give her the evil eye and a "you talkin' to me, be-yatch!?" but I can't let those things happen. Any audition, any chance might be my step into fame and success and I won't even trip on the bodies I will step over in order to get what I want.
So. No beyatch-yelling. But anyway. On this blog, bitch won't hear me screaming. BITCH!
Yes. Hello. My name is Signe and I'm 19 years old. I don't eat or drink anything that comes from animals. I speak bad english. Sometimes I run really fast. I like lemons. And I've never been raped.
I'm quite sure about the rape part. And it really does'nt make any sense. Because I have alot of rape victim tendencys. I have a problem with being touched. With sex. With trusting people. With my own body.
I've tried desperatly searching my mind for suppressed abuse memorys but so far, I found nothing. Well, besides from the mucus kiss that is.
A little late, yes, but I just did'nt have the time until then.
I was very much in love with him.
He listened to sad music, sat on the roof of his house and wrote poems about war.
One time he broke a mirror with purpose.
His dad was very upset but he just told him it was art.
He had a cold when we kissed.
Maby that was the main reason why I really did'nt like it? The kiss was very gentle, but weird and slimy. I guess you have alot of mucus in your mouth when your sick.
Anyway. I thought: Is this it? Is this what everybody talks about? Uuuueeek! I never wanted to do it again. I just wanted to hold his hand, talk to him on the phone, and write him letters to him even if he sat just next to me. He wanted to kiss me, and I told him no. Obviously there was something wrong with me, so he had to break up. A shame really, but he wrote a beautiful poem about it. And we were close friends long after that.