Saturday, January 28, 2012

Beautiful pictures. :)

These are taken by me, and I'd like to share them with the world.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Oil painting! -2

Here's the finished one :) It turned out bloodier than I intended.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Oil painting!

Hey everyone. Here is what I started painting last week. I will post the finished painting tomorrow =]

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Won't let you

I won't let you touch me
Not before you prove
You won't steal anything
Anything away from me.

Don't look into my eyes
I warn you not to try
For you'll see a thing
Something to make you cry.

I won't let you know me
You're not even able to
Because you're weak
So weak
Too weak to admit the truth.

I will hide from you
Won't let you look inside
My heart, my soul
My empty soul
So empty, I could die.

Won't let you help
Won't let you speak
I don't need your lies
Your fears
Your tears show you are weak.

Won't let you touch,
Just watch me grin
As you will fade away
So far
Away, won't let you scratch my skin.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

- Chapter 1 - Part THREE.

   This is the third part of the first chapter. The previous part can be found here.


          The floor I'm now lying on is so damn cold, and I can't help but stay here and wait. Wait for the thoughts, the memories to to go away. Wait for a change. What change? I do not want a change. I'm petrified, my mind is somehow frozen, not to mention my goosebumped, paler-than-ever skin.
            It suddenly hits me: it wasn't normal. It wasn't good, I shouldn't have gone through that. I could not tell anyone about this and, actually, I was not even supposed to do so. It was my secret. Mine! I finally knew something no one else knew, and that was not going to change. Or maybe I forgave them too soon, because \God taught us to forgive, and that's what I've done. If it was right or wrong, I don't know. My mind has gone through lots of challenges.
            So has my body. One night I went into my grandfather's bathroom and took his shaving razor blade. My hand was shaking, due to both excitement and fear. I started shivering as it touched my skin. It was cold.
            "I'm not sure if I should do this," my nine-year-old inner voice said. My confusion was obvious, even to myself.
Five minutes later, I was still holding the cold and soulless object. I feel an itching on my wrist. I look down. Scarlet blood.
            I had a fourteen-year-old friend, she was a cutter. I can't remember if she was bragging about it or just telling me, but I know I started doing it after that. I told her.
            I felt angry, yet guilty. "You have no reason to do it. I have real problems, that's why I do it," she tried to convince me it was not worth it. Despite knowing it was somehow true, I was sad. I did not listen to her. After all, I found a new way to cope and nothing was going to stop me very soon.. Which, if you ask me, woud be considered "such a shame" (or waste of time and blood) by everyone else. But I do not regret anything now. Why would I?

Edit: The next part can be found here.

Monday, January 16, 2012

An update

   I just wanted to say that maybe I'll post less often now. I started school today, and since there are a lot of things that I want to do (read, watch Grey's Anatomy, paint), I don't know if I'll be able to post every day.. but I will try. Just so you know, I have already written 8 chapters of the book-attempt, but I have yet to edit them. I am still in the process of editing the next part, so check back tomorrow or on Wednesday and perhaps there will be a new post with the next part.

Thank you and have a nice day =]

Sunday, January 15, 2012

It's always the little things..

   Have you ever wanted to find love? To be able to be perfect in the eyes of the other people? Or to hide your flaws, maybe? To succeed in school or at work? To have lots of friends?

   Okay. These are the bigger things. I have handled a boyfriend for 7 months now. I can hide lots of things about myself, which is why there are few people who know me well. I do well in school. I have lots of friends. Shortly said, I have accomplished a lot of things.

   Now you may ask, "What is your problem? There's nothing missing in your life. You are so selfish!"
Okay, maybe it's not the case, but still.. It's the little things that make me weak. It's a cup of pudding I've eaten, or something that someone has said to me, without meaning to offend me or anything. It's when I am afraid of  people. When I can't speak to them, can't be with them. It's these little things that defeat me and kick me, and beat me up and hurt me. How come am I able to handle big things, but not little ones? You might say I should just get over them, but how? How is that possible? Of course I wish I were able to meet new people, to be able to be in a room with more than one person, to eat a cookie, to not be afraid of what tomorrow will bring..

What is it, that defeats you?  The little things? The big ones?

Saturday, January 14, 2012

A Question

   This question made me think. People are sometimes very harsh to themselves. "You are stupid." "You are fat." "You are ugly." "I hate you."

   Telling this to ourselves makes us want to change something, makes us feel sad, angry. It makes us hate ourselves more. If a friend would tell all these to us, we would either be very mad at them or stop being friends with that person. 

   Sometimes, being our own best friends can hurt. Because we care about our friend's opinions, right? Of course, a real friend won't tell us we are ugly and stupid and so on, but then, why do we do it to ourselves? Why do we always blame ourselves, and what makes us listen to this inner voice? 

Friday, January 13, 2012

You shouldn't have

I won't let you understand
I won't let you see through me
I won't let you see my struggles
And who I want to be.

I know you'll be frightened and get pushed away
And that I'll avoid, 'cause I want you to stay.
My words will stay unspoken, my fears will be hidden
Or else you will get hurt, and that is forbidden.

The shadows will cover light,
I am too tired to fight
Well, I'm actually afraid
I have found out I failed.

You shouldn't be like me
Shouldn't do what I do
This shit cannot kill me
But I know it can kill you.

Maybe it's the opposite
Maybe I'm the one who'll die
Because my blood's not infinite
And someday I will be dry.

But maybe I'm already gone
I couldn't believe my eyes
I couldn't believe what you had done
And that made me whisper lies.

I would've done anything
To know you'll be okay
Now I'm to blame for everything
I hope you'll see someday.

I hope you'll see that it has hurt me
And that I wanted to die
But you won't see who I'll soon be
Just another soul who'll fly.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Happy Birthday to me =]

   Yes, today is my birthday. I had some kind of "party" last night.. and I was the only one invited. I have read all night, the Sonnets of Shakespeare and the book "The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls" by Emilie Autumn. At 4 o'clock AM, I was drinking tea, reading and listening to music. There's no better gift than that. I went to sleep at 5:30 AM, after watching Grey's Anatomy online.
   I woke up at approximately 11 o'clock and got a dress from my aunt. Then I had to say "Thanks. Thanks :). Thanks ^^. Thank you!!" to the people who wished me happy birthday on facebook. People who I have never in my life talked to. Yes, annoying.
   I will go to the ice rink later. I haven't been there since last year, and I can't wait! I love ice skating.

I will end this post with four of my favorite verses of Shakespeare's 16th Sonnet:

Neither in inward worth nor outward fair, Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. To give away yourself keeps yourself still, And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

- Chapter 1 - Part TWO.

   This is the second part of the first chapter, but not the last one. I'm still in the process of editing, so I'll try to post parts of it every Tuesday.
   The first part can be found here.


            I keep recalling those memories. The days when he used to hit me, when my own father used to brutally hit me, the innocent me. It did not happen very often, but when it did, it became almost impossible to forget… and it still is. I remember the pain I have felt.
            As a kid, I was unable to see how much damaged he had caused. In the end, I got used to it, so I didn't bother to think about it anymore. Later it occurred to me that his actions were not normal, and that I didn't deserve to go through that. But who could I tell? It happened so often, that I learned to be okay with it. It didn't surprise me anymore, when it happened. At the age of seven, I wanted to die for the first time. There were so many thoughts racing through my head, so many memories, so many reasons for me to die.
             So as I said, I eventually got used to the whole situation. I didn't care about it, my mind became numb (as opposed to my body).
            I used to close my eyes and shake my hand. "Go away!" I tried to block out the thoughts. Because of that, my mind was slowly breaking. I stopped talking to the people, and started talking to myself. I couldn't trust people anymore. The mean, untrustworthy people. And despite everything that had happened, I was cautiously making my way through life, trying to survive somehow, to fit in. I was alive.

Edit: The next part can be found here.

Monday, January 9, 2012


   Inspiration. Shortly defined as being "a sudden feeling of enthusiasmor a new idea that helps you to do or create  something". Where does it come from? Is it a thing that just hits you, or do you have to wait for a long time to find it? To me, inspiration is something natural. Something that I can create for myself, something that creates me. It's an endless river of knowledge, ideas and fantasy.
   Which is why I don't like people who say "I have no inspiration today" instead of actually trying to write something. I don't say that it's not okay to have a hard time finding your inspiration - this can be very tricky sometimes. I say I don't like people who give up easily. Today, I wanted to start a new chapter in my book-attempt. I "had no inspiration", but I ended up with ~160 words - this is still something. Something that I'll edit and add to, and which will probably turn into 2,000 words.
   Now that we know that inspiration is endless, but sometimes hard to find, let's see how we can search for it.
My best "tool" are my own experiences, because that's mainly what I'm writing about. Other times, I listen to songs. My favorite ones are Natalie Merchant - My Skin and Sia - Don't bring me down. I also find Emilie Autumn to be extremely helpful when it comes to vocabulary (I've learned a few new words from her songs), but her songs are also inspiring me. 
   See? You have to find out what you like best and take out what you need from there. A little bit from everywhere.

How do you find inspiration? Is it songs? Books? Landscapes?
If there's anyone reading this, really, don't be shy. =]

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Blissful Spark - Poem

Written by me.

* Blissful Spark *

Take everything away from me
Just let behing my knife
Who am I? Who should I be?
Why should I live a life?

A life of emptiness, I'm numb
I've just put on my disguise
Watch the pure flow of the blood,
Hiding behind all these lies.

All my tears, oh, all my roses
So black and cold and dark
Oh, those countless overdoses
Such a blissful spark.

Oh, and death ain't misery
It's pretty, isn't it?
And suicide's a mystery,
Only few dare to commit it.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Before I Go To Sleep

   I finished reading a book yesterday. It's called "Before I Go To Sleep" by S.J. Watson. It is about a woman (Christine Lucas) suffering from amnesia. She wakes up every morning without knowing who she is. With doctor Nash's help, she manages to write in a journal for several days, which helps her reconstruct her memories. Christine doubts the things her husband tells her about her past. As her journal grows, she's set on a journey for discovery. 

   I could hardly put the book down, and every page made me want to read further. It is a good book, in my opinion, and I recommend it.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

A poem I've found

I really like this poem. It is not written by me, but I think it deserves to be read. :)

When you wake up tomorrow and I am no where to be found 
When you scream out my name to the emptiness around 
When every beat inside your heart is skipping and unsure 
Don’t cry my friend for I am here, inside your love so pure 
When the waves that used to touch our feet have gone back out to sea 
When everything you once held dear was lost when you lost me 
When the sun that once lit up your face is setting far away 
Don’t cry my Friend for time shall pass, but my love for you will stay 
When age arrives and children play and pain creeps up on you 
When loved ones show you happiness that your life never knew 
When all of your expectations are met, no matter what the pain 
Don’t cry my friend, for I am waiting to hold you once again 
When beauty in your eyes turn gray and all of the rainbow, white 
When strong undying hearts no longer feel an urge to fight 
When winter snows become more pain than beauty in your heart 
Don’t cry my friend, for I am here and we will never ever part

Monday, January 2, 2012

- Chapter 1 -

   This is the first part of the first chapter, edited as well as I could. If there's anyone reading this, I'd love some opinions on it :)

   I can still hear the tall man's strident voice coming from his widely open mouth. I hear him screaming. All these noises make my blood run cold, I am shaking. Being here makes me feel like a caged bird. The fear slowly creeps in. His hand is touching my body.
"Leave me alone!" I say. My heart's racing faster than ever.
            His hand furtively hits me. My body loses all its strenght, then collapses on the floor. I dare not speak anymore. I was speechless, anyway; and I'm not allowed to speak. I turn my head, but know he's still watching me from above. His eyes must be very cold and angry. Why won't he leave already?
            I lie on the cold floor, the hall is dark. He leaves and closes the door behind him. I remember the man brutally smashing me down; I still feel his hand on my shoulder, long after he's left. There was a crippling pain that invaded my entire body.
            I wait in front of my room before I decide to finally get up. As I slightly push the door, my fingers touch the light brown wood. The room was filled by the light of that summer day. There were birds singing outside, everything seemed jollier than it actually was. I walk towards the bed – the rug gently strokes my bare, child-like feet – and lay myself on it, as I usually do when I need to be left alone. Despite that, I leave the door open. What if he comes and apologizes, and admits that his actions were wrong?
"I can not forgie him. Never," a voice in my head says. Lying on my back, I look at the door, though I'd rather never see him again.
            The sound of his footsteps is frightening me. I wonder if he will look into my eyes. The man shortly glares at me as he walks into another room. My face is burning. I can't taste anything but the salty tears who have made their way on my lips. I am sobbing every now and then, and I feel like there is some kind of pressure on my chest that keeps me from breathing. I close my eyes and bring myself back to present.

Edit: The next part can be found here.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Short Intro

I'm sure you've read stories about teenagers. Or teens' blogs. Or maybe you are a teen yourself. This is the blog that will tell you some stories you haven't heard before. Some things you maybe didn't know could happen. Things that make you think, perhaps. I like to believe that I'm okay, that I'm just another teen. But one who's been through quite a bit; so I'd love to share this with the world. I want the world to see that things are not always what they look like.
            I want to write a book. I will post some chapters on here, maybe it will keep me motivated to go on with it. I will also post poems and some other writings. I do not want the people to think that I'm trying to be a martyr or something. But I want to make a change. I want people to see what's really going through an eating disordered girl's mind. I want them to see what depression can lead to. I want people to see how I see the world. I want a lot of things.
            I will not reveal my real name, nor will I tell you my age. You may call me Chanelle, and my age is somewhere between 12 and 17. That shouldn't really matter, honestly. You can find more info here.