Psyke.org

Lelu

Copyright, Lelu

Beginning

My self infliction was never bad. In fact, it wasn’t even serious. To the eyes of my own… but people believed it was, and that I could really harm myself. I didn’t really wish to die at the moment as much as I kinda do now. But don’t get my wrong… I don’t want to die because I don’t like my life. my life’s fine. Sure I’m on happy pills and my mum still is all itchy but she’s getting better and I’m happy about that but… I’m just so interested in the dead, in death, what happens after you die? I want to find out so bad that it kills me to find out now. Even if I do leave people behind…

But back to my whole self infliction little problem. I believe it all started in the 7th grade without me even realizing it… Is that even possible? I was so obscure. Anything’s possible. I would always play around with my cat, this little demon that could totally thrash your hand up with her claws… I let her.

I let blood run from the marks she caused out of play… I allowed it, and it felt good… But I didn’t realize it till I think about it now… But I really can’t tell you when I officially began cutting. Except it was last year… Last summer…. 2001…. Around softball season in school. So around September… That’s when it happened…. I kept scratching my arm with a rock creating this huge massive scab of pain and burning sensation on my inner wrist… I kept telling myself however that I fell off my skateboard and I hit a rock, and that happened… I told myself that so much, that I believed it. And told other people… I realized it’s not true by my little elf friend Nemo. Don’t ask, he’s a different page.

Then I started to scratch myself with a simple safety pin. A safety pin! Come on! What harm can a little needle do? I didn’t produce ounces of blood. I just liked the ill painless rush the pin caused… It wasn’t like a knife… Deep and slow… It was a quick tingle and I enjoyed it. That happened a lot, but I made it look like cat scratches. My friends started to notice and realized they weren’t cat scratches. I then started on manicure scissors… Slicing it through my arm… NEver created blood, but the scars, over 2 months old, are still there, red, and trying to rebuild all the skin I tore away…

The day I stopped was when one of my best friends told my last year teacher and my sister’s this year teacher… My sister was going to tell him later but she got there first. My sis asked why my name was on his hand and he told her he had to talk to me. He found me after getting a pop. I could tell he really cared for me as a teacher and friend. We went to the counselor and I asked if she wouldn’t tell my parents until after thanksgiving. I didn’t want to put stress on them… My mum was so stressed. And I still feel like it’s my fault.

My counselor told my dad that I wrote depressive poetry. She read some… I told my dad later that night when I had talked to the counselor. Because he overheard me telling my sister that I wasn’t going to die. Then after 10 minutes of crying… I finally told him… He seemed so upset and… Maybe afraid… My mom’s been going through the same thing! We’re both depressed. And she doesn’t know… But my sister is too…. I just know it. But no one can really realize how suicidal I truly am. They can’t see it like I can… They’ll be too fussy over my sister if they found out she was depressed… I don’t know why… Just… Ya… I’m not going to go killing myself either… Not until all my stories (50) are finished. And I am slow at finishing. So that’s a good thing I guess. The other world will just wait.

I stopped when the next day me and my dad told my mom. I promised to never cut again… She was asking me if I should be sent into the ward. Me. But I told her no cause I wanted to go to the movies… I think I should have… But now, I think its too late. Sometimes, like at finals, I did cut myself in a way. I scratched my self with my nails. I don’t want to break my promise to my mom… I semi-broke it… But not fully… But I still have the deep desire to feel the rush… To go extreme with an exacto knife, or regular paring knife… To feel the burning sensation of blood…

I don’t think I will ever heal… The scars will just keep on coming. In one form or another… I’m not as bad as other cutters. Hell, I’m a wimp compared to them! Another of my best friends told me I should go kill myself because I was moving anyway… She mocked me telling me there was nothing wrong with me, that I wasn’t even hurting myself cause I was using a safety pin… No one even gave me a shot for gangrene. Maybe I’m doing this for attention… But I don’t know. I really am doing it for the sensation and to get rid of repressed feelings that won’t leave…. Life’s a drag but you keep on living. If I keep on, will you?

Lately however… I’ve started up. I don’t know why but it feels good. This time, I’ve been using an exacto blade I got from CODE. I keep it in little compartments until Nyx finds out and takes it away from me. I can’t tell my mum or my sister because I want them to think I’m getting better and not be so unhappy, I don’t want to leave either… But I’m cutting in discreet places… I’m going to tell my psychologist that I’m still cutting. I couldn’t tell her that I was because my mum was in the room, and I can’t let her find out. Last night, I saw toy story on ice, but before and after I felt miserable. I was fine there, I had fun, but before… After… I felt so miserable, after I couldn’t stop crying. It killed me, I haven’t felt like that in so long…

Nemo

I have psychotic depression. Which is like schizophrenia… But it’s not. With schizophrenia, you don’t know the things you’re seeing are fake, but with psychotic depression… You do… See, I see this little elf named Nemo. I know the bastard’s fake, that he’s not there, but he is there! And won’t leave.

You’re probably wondering who the hell Nemo is right? Well… I’ll tell you who the hell Nemo is. But you gotta promise not to tell a soul.

And this elf that I keep seeing that’s… True with everything he says… Won’t go away… His name’s Nemo and he’s this elf. And I began to see him when I was 8… But I figured what the hell, he’s just there, I’m 8. Every kid has an imaginable friend that’s not real… Mine was different. So I didn’t tell anyone about him. He didn’t want me to. I’m a really good believer in stuff, and I don’t spaz out when I see something different, freaky, or whatever. I just… Don’t. It’s not weird, it’s… Cool. Because I don’t spaz out to the fact that I’m seeing a damn elf that I know isn’t real, but won’t go away.

He was a good elf… But then… He started to tell me to do stuff, and I wouldn’t, because people can’t just force me to do anything. I’m not that stupid… And they were bad stuff like go get my dad’s gun and go shoot my cat. He said she was in a lot of pain and wanted to be free. But I couldn’t do it and I wouldn’t. I don’t really tell anyone this because I hear that that’s what you’re thinking but I don’t want to kill my cat! I love my cat!

And then I got this really bad fever and almost died… Because I had the flu or something. My dad had to put me in the bathtub of freezing cold water… It was so cold… And all I could do was cry. I kept seeing Nemo upside down on the wall counting down his fingers singing some song. I thought he was going to kill me… But then he flipped a coin that was different than what he called and he shrugged and jumped into the sink and disappeared… Then, he told me to do something else a year later that I didn’t. My grandpa fell and broke his hip. He got into the hospital… So I listened to him. I listened to Nemo and my grandpa was okay… But then… He asked for more, and I just walked away and then, my parents went to the hospital… And Nemo was doing cartwheels laughing… And on July 5th… My grandpa died.

And then… he told me someone in my family would die, and I kept trying to ignore him, and then my uncle died. He wouldn’t go away. And he started to tell me all sorts of things. Weird things. Bad things. Happy things… And when I wouldn’t listen something bad happened. My dog got really sick, close to dying — he was only a puppy… And… All this stuff and now… Someone whom is like my grandmother is about to die cause I told him to go away and never come back. He’s pissed off… He keeps telling me I should kill myself so I can become an elf and see the world with him… But I don’t want to… And I don’t want her to die… Why won’t he just… Leave?

Nemo killed her… Nemo killed her… That little bitch.

Well… This is Nemo. A little elf stalker that won’t leave me the hell alone and kills people… Stupid bastard. I try to kick his ass, but I go right through the little bitch… Well…

Feelings, babbling about how life is…

Noel’s been great. It’s quiet down here and nice. The 20th was Ashley’s birthday, the 21st was my mother’s, the 23rd is Deborah’s, and the 23rd is Gillian’s. But back to Noel. Noel is a place 4 hours south of Kansas City, very close to Arkansas. It’s a very small town. Really small, and it has a beautiful green river right next to the cabin. We have a cabin on the river. It’s great. My mum’s friends came down with their kids. Sara, Annette, and Annette’s 3-year-old daughter, Shelby, and my parents’ other friend, Heather.

I thought I’d be happy down here. I actually am better here than back in Kansas City. I don’t know why. I just do. I don’t want to go back home yet. But we’re leaving on Sunday because my sister and I have guard camp from 10 am to 5 pm from Monday to Thursday. I hate camp, but I have to go.

When I get back to Kansas City though, I’m going to call up Dickinson’s to see if they’re hiring yet. When I called to see if I was hired, the manager said she wasn’t hiring due to a floop. I hope they are now and I hope they’ll consider me. I need a job.

I really don’t have anything to talk about. I guess I only do when I’m really happy or really sad. But I’m just kind of… in the middle. Neutral or so. It’s better than morbidly depressed. So I am grateful. I guess I really have to go get checked again, but I don’t know when I can. What if they put me in a ward? And I won’t be able to get out? After I heard about merit hurting him self to where he needed stitches… I wanted too… but I didn’t. But I wanted too. Why he could feel the greatness from it, I don’t know but he claims he didn’t. Guess he’s stronger than me. I’m so tired. I don’t know why, though, I just am. Guess it’s because Dakota woke me up this morning. I hate it when she wakes me up. Her voice is so annoying. It’s… traumatizing. I could die from it. Honestly. It’s like this melancholic scream that stays in your ears and won’t leave. It could make you deaf I’m sure. So off-key and everything. I hate it.

Hmmm… I need to lose weight. I’m unhealthy looking. Gah! I want my chimi changa! But I don’t know if I’ll ever get it. I watched movies today. Woo me. ‘A guy thing’ with Jason lee. I love him. He’s one of the greatest actors. So is Robert De Niro. He’s good too. Especially in ‘Analyze This’, and ‘Analyze That’. I love those movies. He’s great in it. Also saw ‘Saving Silverman’ and some other movies, but I do not remember. It was fun though. Went on a boat ride and went floating for maybe 20 minutes before me and Sara decided to not go down the river, so we got out. But there were a lot of hot guys around. It’s so annoying that there is no hot guys in Kansas City, but there are everywhere else! Gah! It’s damaging.

I wish I were God. Or even a healer. I hate seeing my friends in pain. I hate it so much that I wish I could cut so their pain will subside. It kills me that I can’t help them. I wish I could just take their suffering away. I’ve found a way to accept it and the emptiness doesn’t bother me anymore. Maybe it’s because I’ve dealt with it for so long. I don’t know. Maybe the medicine is actually helping? I feel weird when I forget to take it. Like glitches or something. I don’t know how to explain it. But for a mere second I feel ice cold, and like the whole world just took a massive shaking. It leaves me dizzy and lightheaded. I hate the feeling. But I don’t know. Maybe I’m just so confused in my own emotions. Wishing no one could be depressed, no one would hurt themselves, no one would have to suffer. I believe that every parent will listen if you just give them a chance. But they’re just too scared. Thinking that they won’t listen, or they’ll be mad. I thought the same thing. But they found out and they got me help. I feel more better now than I did before. But not all the way yet. Probably because I need more on my medicine. But if it doesn’t work, then you try a different medicine. If a parent tells you that it’s just hormones, you get all mad because you think that they won’t listen. You have to tell them that you believe it’s more than that! Maybe I should become a psychologist. To listen to people and try to help them. Kids mostly. I could be the one that can help them trust, be happy, smile. I don’t know. There’s so many things I want to be. Maybe I should just become God so I can become all of them. I know I’d do better than the one we have now… she let’s everyone suffer.

“You wouldn’t realize how good the good days are if you never witnessed the bad days.”

Sure this may be true. But you can’t just put someone through so much misery that they’re too weak to see the good days! I hate life so much. Why does it have to be so complicating? Why can’t it be like on T.V. with the adventures, and magick and bad guys that try to take your soul and up to someone to try and save you. That’s so exciting. At lease you have something to wait for. Your chance to be saved. Not clinically saved. Just… saved. From the evil. Maybe life is like super heroes. Depressed is where you’re kidnapped, and when you finally become happy is when you are finally saved.

Maybe I just think immaturely. My mom told me tonight that I need to grow up. That my thinking is illogical, unreasonable. But is it? Is thinking something that makes you feel remotely better illogical? It’s better than thinking the reality that everyone dreads. I finally finished this one book called Violet and Claire.

Claire reminded me so much of me in a way, despite her quietness. She dreamed of a place of faeries. Of a happy place where there’s no harm. That place where everyone is happy, that’s trapped below the earth that only the willed can seek. The willed that aren’t too tired of life and just want to give up when it’s just getting started. This depression. It won’t last forever. It won’t. It’s just a long phase, a bad dream that we have to wake up from. Maybe we all have to embrace the sadness and make it become us. I think I tried that. I became hollow and I see life as a darkening sunset. Where the sun no longer rises. It’s dark. Peaceful. With little rays of light from other travelers coming to find me, to bring me back to that sunrise. Maybe here I’ll just wait, unaffected by this depression, and just wait till I’m completely happy again. Here, no one will worry about me. No one will fear for me. Because here, I’m perfectly fine, and saddened by the wrong in this world that I have to wake up to each day wondering if I will get in a car crash, or get shot for being in the wrong place, or being hit by an oncoming car that didn’t see me there walking peacefully minding my own business. Maybe I’ll get some disease that’s life threatening that the doctor’s can’t cure, or maybe I’ll just die. Who knows. I’m just waiting to find out. If you hate life then stop, think, and make the best of it. Piss everyone off and enjoy it the way you can. Maybe I should start doing that. If only I didn’t have a consciousness for my parents and sister.

Everything feels so grey and dark, I think. I don’t know what’s wrong really. I’ll just look around and everything’s so dark. So lonely. Like it’s scared. I usually don’t perceive the world around me as so dead, so quiet with an innovation for sadness. I hate this non-leaving feeling of helplessness. This is how I felt before November 2002. So repressed with depression. But then I seek help after my friend saved me from myself. I never really knew if she thought I was mad at her for it or not. But I do. I wonder a lot about what my life would be like if my parents never found out about me cutting. Would things have been worse? Or would I have fought around it? I used to think the Zoloft helped. But now I’m not so sure. I have crying spells again. Thoughts of regret, sadness, and suicide.

Even though I know I can’t kill my self because I care too much for my friends and my sister, I still wonder what it would be like. To not exist anymore. What would happen? I have my belief that you’ll end up alone and in sadness for all eternity, but it’s just a thought. What if it isn’t true? What if I ask god for forgiveness and then he allows me into heaven? Or maybe he doesn’t care either way. God doesn’t care about us. He wouldn’t be there to save us if we killed each other off with nuclear bombs, or if rabid infernal aliens from the planet invaded us outside of our milky way.

I hate this feeling. I hate the fact that I broke my promise with my mother to stop cutting and started to cut again. I hate it. I hate that I still cut. I hurt my sister so much. But I’m trying to stop. So far it’s going quite well… or maybe it’s just a phase. Wait for the wounds to heal then play again. I don’t know. It just… feels so good. It’s like those guys that walk on nails, or swallow fire or pierce their whole bodies. They love pain. I love pain. Maybe I should just pierce my ears. People do not see anything wrong with that. I miss being a child. Having the imagination that when we got older everything would be perfect. We wouldn’t be depressed, we’d be happy, and everything would go our way.

Me and my next door neighbor used to dream about going to the same college, living together in this massive unable to happen house. Security cameras, an elevator, hot tub, pool, diving board, slide, sliding doors, escalator, our own cars. It was so cool, what we imagined. But I guess we grew up and it just faded away.

Grew up.

Why do kids have to grow up? I wish every day that I can be like a kid again. I just don’t feel the power to become a kid. Sure I still have my imagination. Guess I just put it into writing. In a way, I guess I am still a kid. Just wish I could bring back time. Be nine all over again. Those were the great days when we hung out on our street with Jeremy, J.D., caresse, Danielle, Angela, and Ashley.

But then Jeremy grew up and left.

Angela moved to Raytown.

J.D. got into pot.

And it was just caresse, Ashley, and I.

And then Ashley moved.

And then it was just caresse and I.

And now she’s moving…

And I’m here in this neighborhood all alone. Sure I have friends. Tons of them at school! Well… About five close friends, and about five hang around at school occasionally friends.

Mum says I need to, “span my horizon and make more friends.”

She doesn’t get it. You just can’t go up to a group and say, “Hey, I want to be your friend, nice shirt!”

It doesn’t work that way.

Maybe I have trust issues? But I like this saying from this movie I saw, ‘The Italian Job’.

One of the men always said, “I trust everyone, I just don’t trust the devil inside of them.”

I believe that.

Or maybe I push people away. That’s what my friend Kenny told me. He and me used to be really good friends. I like to think we still are. I tried so hard for him to not talk or meet my sister. But then he did. And they started talking and then they met and…

Then they went out.

He seemed to have more time for her. My sister. He now always hangs out with her, talks to her, laughs with her. He’s no longer there for me. Every time they’re together, I just go away. I’m sure they don’t want me around. They’d rather make out. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just jealous that she gets all the good guys and I can’t even keep one because I’m afraid of commitment. I don’t want to get hurt.

There’s so much wrong with me. I don’t even remember what my psychiatrist told me I had. It’s depression, but the level I can’t remember. But I lied to her on some of the things. My mum was in the room and I didn’t want her to know that I was worse than what I showed. I worry about my mum so much. But she just doesn’t seem to get it. I can never live up to her expectations, to her standards. I’ll never be good enough for her. Never will. Especially if there’s something wrong with me! I can’t tell her I’m still cutting, I can’t tell her anything. Even though she says she will still love me and won’t judge me. I just still feel like she will. And then she’ll start crying and then I’ll start crying because it hurts to see her cry. I hate it when she cries. I feel so terrible. That it was my fault that she feels this way. I give her so much stress with getting bad grades. My depression. And if I tell her I still cut, that will add to her stress. I just wish I could make her happy for once. But I don’t think that’s even possible. Why can’t I be good? I don’t think before I do something, I’m forgetful, I don’t pay attention, I don’t do anything right. I don’t even take care of my sister, and I’m the older one. She has to take care of me. I wish I could take care of her. Like an older sister should do. But she’s so independent, stubborn. Maybe she doesn’t want me to. She says she wants to be just like me. I think she’s even better than me. She should just become me so I can just fade away. But then she’d be depressed, and I don’t want her to suffer like that, even though I think she’s already depressed. She doesn’t like life. But she has everything. All the guys love her, she has a lot of friends, everyone wants to hang out with her, she’s pretty, she’s popular, she’s fun, optimistic, she’s everything. Everything that I am not… and will never be.

She always chooses my littlest sister of me and my other sister. It’s annoying. She always gets mad at us for not hanging out with her or talking to her. I always talk to her! I always hang out with her. She has friends! Why should we be responsible for her well-being and happiness? She doesn’t give a crap about how we might feel. It’s so annoying. It’s always her little girl. She doesn’t have to do anything, she doesn’t have to work, it’s too hard for her, she gets whatever she wants, mum always says yes to her! But does she say yes to us if we whine? No! But if she whines, okay! Ugh! She has no respect. It’s all about her! Her! Her! Her! And my littlest sister. Excuse me. I have to go hang myself.

 

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