#he took too many yass pills on this day i think

[paddysbarbie]

why is he standing like an f slur

[isuckandotheressays]

PART 1 ; self-saboteur

How can you even start to talk about something like this without sounding so fucking cliché it makes your teeth hurt. Stuff is hard, like really hard, and it will be forever, and I know that. I am like, obscenely good at whining, I can whine about pretty much anything, the weather, the fact I have nothing to wear, the fact that I don’t get what I want. I'm internally spoiled, but I think everyone is really, any one that isn't is lying, what type of crazy person likes when they don’t get what they want? Unless you are ,like a masochist, which in some ways I probably am, or at least a self-saboteur.

Anyway, unimportant. More importantly, my life is currently in shambles. The love of my life won't talk to me because he's upset that I tried to kill myself. Now I'm sure from an outwards perspective that makes him sound unfeeling, a dick, but to be honest I'm the dick.  

Don’t get me wrong, I 100% wanted to die, I could not see my way out. I weighed out my options, I could hang myself from the loft bed he built for me, but I'm too tall and it wouldn’t have worked. I would slit my wrists, but then I would get heaps of blood on the 70's carpet and that would be just like, disrespectful to my housemates. So, my final thought was just to take as many of my sleeping meds as I could and just like, go to sleep. I wrote a note, in tears, obviously, I had fucking lost it.  

I individually popped out the pills and took them one by one, slowly getting more and more tired, getting less and less conscious. I kept thinking about random things, like how mad everyone is going to me if I survive this, how fucked it's going to be for Luke, how I've probably ruined his life. So I thought in my drug addled state, I should probably just like message saying I'm sorry to all my friends or whatever. Because I'm a dirt human.  

Suicide, is a really selfish thing, the most selfish thing you can do, but at that point in time, I couldn’t see my way out. I felt worthless, that the person I cared for the most in the world was never going to trust me again, that my best friends didn’t want to hang out with me because I'm so fun because I'm a useless sad lump that wines, can't even drink red wine because I become some heaps horrible bitchy cynical version of myself. That I would always disappoint my parents, because to this day, I don’t actually want to do what they want me to do and I really just want to be a starving artist and make art about how sad I am all the time.  

Anyway, I squeezed out some drama queen ass text to the people that meant the most to me, 'I'm sorry I love you' , which I meant but in hindsight as someone that wanted to die peacefully and alone in their house, is not a good move because people care about if you are dead or alive and well, got scared if they get that message out of the blue. So next minute, my dad, arrives in a cab, and I go to Emergency, and no one really takes what goes on particularly seriously and then in a bed and some doctor is making me drink some sludgy black coal shit to soak up all the medication in my stomach (side note it's been three days at this point and all that is coming out of me is like spirited away anime style sludge.  

So, I wake up and I'm going to the ward, this is like 8 at night, I did all this pill business at about Noon, and I'm sitting in the waiting room with my mum and dad who are literally at their whit's end with their nerves shot because their only child has an inability to cope with real life.

Side note, I am a productive member of society, I have job, that I mostly like and work hard at, I do a little bit of 'faffy' modeling for cash when I can, I get up I get coffee, I catch the train to school etc. Granted my mum pays my phone bill because I'm a 22 year old child that can't do real life human things. But yeah, back to the ward.

PART 2 ; repercussions

I'm sitting there waiting at the mental health ward and they literally come and give me some belongings I left there the time before. Like I'm some frequent flyer, I sort of laugh under my breath but try to stifle it because I love my parents  more than anything and I don't want to make this situation any more confusing and awful than what it is. I go to the tiny mini fridge and fish out a cheese sandwich because the stuff I took to OD makes you so fucking hungry.  

So I'm admitted, given the awkward PJ's, some hectic sedatives and put in the room with the vinyl mattress like the ones in jail I'm sure, except in the ward they give you milo and night and speak in hushed tones and take your blood pressure a lot and offer you adult colouring books.  

Then I'm in the room and I'm thinking things. The things I'm thinking are about the fact that I did not succeed in ending my life and now there are repercussions. I have to not only feel shit, I have to feel guilty because what I have done to the people who love me is so monumentally horrible and I'm a bad selfish person who is never going to be loved, etc. Then I think about if I had done it another way, if it had worked, then I fall asleep.

I'm woken up by a student nurse that looks about 15 rolling in a huge blood pressure machine. The soft voice ensues like fucking silk "so, uh, cay, do you feel safe? Do you feel like hurting yourself? Killing yourself? Feeling a bit better than yesterday?" And me, being a fucking idiot, says, "oh yeah I'm fine now, just tired you know". Because, from lots of practice, I'm a master at pretending I'm okay (I'm being sarcastic hopefully you get that and I don’t just sound like a prized IDIOT).  

Hours down the track in walk out in my gross green PJ's and look at who else in in the ward. Literally exactly what you would expect, some full grown woman with pink hair doing a puzzle of teddy bears, some 'methy' looking guy talking to himself in the room (until this point I thought this was a ward for woman only) that has a video of a waterfall on loop and an extremely greasy middle ages Asian woman being scolded for trying to sleep when she has to be awake because its day time. Nobody talks to each other, we are all sort of collectively embarrassed, no one really knows how to act, do we like smile at each other? Or do we have to prove our sadness to each other? I just keep my head down mainly until I get handed the sludgy meal that we have to eat with a spoon because u could mince yourself with a fork or knife. I recon if you really wanted you could use a spoon, I recon if you really wanted you could use anything like, it's pretty fucked up but I think about that all the time. I know pretty much all the things in a room that I could use to hurt myself.  

Like spoon? Easy, I would just either with all the force in my body, sorry for the gore, slam the not spoony part into my wrist and like , blood would Tarintino style go everywhere. I could also just like shove it down my throat and choke. I recon I could like, paper cut myself to death, that’s so morbid, oh my god, sorry.  

PART 3; insidious thing  

Fast track to now, I'm at my parent's house, with a shaved head, in the country, the love of my life won't talk to me. I'm almost certain that he's going to leave me, he's already moved out and he's basically sick of my shit. And to be honest, even though it fucking hurts, its fair enough.

Backtrack again, I worked at the pub, and everyone there just like, happened to do cocaine, so I tried cocaine, and of course, it was great but very expensive. If went from something fun to something I needed to get through a shift because I was so tired. Then I would spend all my money on it. Then the guy would show up at the bar and I would just swipe my card and take money out of the till. Like at the start it was spending my money, and then I started stealing the money.  

Now, I have a huge problem which honestly, I like being on drugs, plus being bipolar, oh yeah, but now that’s up for negotiation and could be a personality disorder or whatever. I didn’t tell anyone I was doing this, not even my partner or my friend who could have helped me. Especially, my partner. But again, dirt human remember.  

So, I was holding that secret in for ages, like was literally killing me. It was the most insidious thing ever. But I've always stuffed in and marred the truth to protect myself. When I was younger, like childhood till I was 16, I had a really hard time at making friends so I literally would just make shit up. But when I was first diagnosed and had my first break up, I worked out that, that probably wasn’t optimum to being like an alright human. So I stopped saying I was related to famous models and that I got kicked out of karate because I punched the teacher and started telling the  true story about the stress nose bleeds, of the white robes and I was related to a bunch of people that lived in Yass, as in many merinos (no offence to my family - you are all phenomenal).

PART 4; him

Forward, I hadn't told my parents this immense thing, and I was lying about what actually happened. So I told them. And, they really didn’t care. Not only what this an insane and complete surprise to me, it made me feel even worse that I have been an absolutely horrendous person to my partner.  

So now, I am petrified. I'm writing this with my newly shaved golf ball head, he's not talking to me and I'm this total wreck of self-hatred and total disarray. Because I want to be with him, I don’t want to hurt him. But I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know how to make someone trust you again, and I sure as hell don’t think I deserve to have such a fucking angel in my life.

Like you know those classically handsome boys from teen movies, yeah think about that, but like Bowie dreamy. Big ass blue eyes, freckles, tall, absolutely killer smile. He supports my art, he's good with kids and animals, he's stupid crazy intelligent, goofy and gets my humor, that I barely get sometimes. Like I have no idea how human trash like me could have made this person fall in love with me. One time, he fucking flew overseas to see me on our anniversary because he missed me. He has written obscure punk songs about me. He also supports me immensely, which I owe my life to, on many occasions.  

To be honest, I will understand if he's over it, he could do so much better, he could like, date a  girl who is not legally insane, that would not self-harm and lie and do batshit stuff like some crazy murderer. But, I do want to get better for him. And I am trying, I've enrolled in this crazy program that the psych lady said would improve my honesty as well as make me be able to deal with real life grown up situations like an adult and not some mentally inept baby thing. I am trying. Shaving my hair was a thing for me. I needed a physical change to put stuff in motion. I'm in motion now. And I hope that he sees that, but I understand, I truly I am the worst.

Skip forward to two weeks later, we ended it, I broke it I really did. But that okay, because you have to have a red hot go at being by yourself. I am weirdly happy, elated even, I feel like ive got myself back. Its crazy that you don’t even notice how much you have lost yourself until your alone, the cracks in what seemed like a perfect relationship start to show. Not to throw shade, but I think that I embarrassed him sometimes and tried to hard to act cool. And to be honest, I recon I am pretty fucking cool. I bent myself to fit around him, even my aspirations, even my work even my internet presence. He never let me 'vlog' he thought it was lame, seems like such a teeny thing but I full want to vlog. I want to talk into the abyss that in Instagram, hear an echo or not.  

I guess its all a learning curb really, you got to lose what you think you want to get what you need. I could 'smiths' along and ask to 'please please, please, let me let me let me, get what I want this time' but right now, I'm still working out what that is. It's pretty flippin' great.