Tuesday, July 31, 2012

How to break a heart

   This is me reciting the poem. *I'm not playing the piano, it's from Youtube.

How to break a heart?
Well, it's really not that hard.
Take her soul and play with it
The pain she'll feel is infinite.

How to break a heart? It's easy.
Shake it fast, make her dizzy.
Squeeze it, punch it, maybe throw
The thing against a wall.

Break this heart, my dearest boy
Take it, now it is your toy.
Break it, break it, break – hooray!
Who cares if she'll never be okay?

How easily you walked away
Left my path, picked your own way.
You don't need, dear boy, to care.
To break my heart, I know you'd dare.

And so I'll cry all night in fear
Because you broke that heart, my dear
That heart which once belonged to me
You broke a heart, proud you should be.

Monday, July 30, 2012

Smoking lunatic

   "To purge or not to purge; that is the question."

   Only 15 laxatives for today. Intake, lower than usual. Still too much, because anything above zero is too much. Go to hell.

   I smoked a cigarette last night. It took me some time to light it up, because there was an awful storm outside because of which I could not sleep. The cigar was stolen from my dad. I either don't know how to smoke or they were just awful, but I never want to do it again. It stinks like hell and the smell is hard to get off. But I felt, I don't know, relaxed. Still, I don't plan on doing it again anytime soon. I don't need more addictions.

   I like to think of this experience as a way to prove to myself that I don't need to be like everyone else, if I don't want to. Cigarettes are awesome when you are with your friends and everyone smokes, you suddenly think they are sort of okay and that you could do it for the rest of your life, but the truth only comes out when you are by yourself.

   I have always been by myself, I guess that's why I have the personality I have. I didn't let people influence me.

   I have been having chest pains. I want to be locked up in a psych ward, with my fellow lunatics. That place feels safe. Horrific, but safe...

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Purge -- We're all mad.

   I can't even describe what I am feeling right now. Mentally, I am numb. I don't know if I am happy or sad or depressed or God knows what. I just.. am. Something.

   But physically.. Physically, I am dead. I have been purging daily these days; both throwing up and taking laxatives. My head is spinning, it aches awfully. I finished the purge a few minutes ago. I could not stand on my feet anymore. I lay on the bathroom floor, naked, toothbrush in one hand. My heart was beating fast. My head was heavy, my eyes were sore and closed, I could not breathe because of my runny nose. I felt like I had run one billion kilometers. My throat hurts like hell and my voice is hoarse.

   I am dead. Or at least, I wish I were.

   I feel lonely. I want someone to hug me and tell me that yes, I am stupid, but that it is okay to be like that. I need... I don't know what I nee, what I want, everything seems unreal. I do not believe in the world, I do not believe that I exist, that I am writing these things. It's all fiction, it's all fantasy, we do not exist. I'm mad.

   We're all mad.

Edit: This is the 100th post. How very nice.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Fade away

   I am back. It's only been a day, and I have already cut (after a long enough break) and taken a box of laxatives, I have binged and purged and my throat is sore now and my voice is hoarse.

   The trip was nice, except..

   "Well, you've got fat that's hanging on your arms and, umm.. your legs aren't that pretty either."

   Are you fucking kidding me. This is what a guy will tell you when someone asks him to tell his honest opinion on a girl's body. Go to hell, asshole, you mad me want to take all the pills in the world and cut until I can't anymore. He was an ugly, dumb guy. He's got huge, disgusting pimples all over his body, I don't even wanna think about him.

   Thing is, it is confirmed. I am an ugly fuck.

Saturday, July 21, 2012


   I don't know what to say.

   The blog stats show that this week's traffic was mostly brought by the keywords "columbine high school massacre." I have written a blog post on that a few months ago. The reason why I think people have looked for it is the recent Colorado Dark Knight Shooting. It seemed quite unbelievable to me, but I am sure it must have been horrifying.

   Things have been going on in a weird way lately.. I gained muscle weight from the gym, then started eating less and dropped 1 kilo (2 pounds). Now I am on the second round of lax today and I hope I'll be "done" by 8 o'clock this morning. I hate the unexpectedness they bring..

   I will leave on Sunday, but I'll be back in a few days.

   Everything feels more normal than usual. I am scared.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

My thoughts fly to you

My thoughts fly to you in the darkness of night
Behind the window I am writing in fright
I see a light across the sky
Rain is falling, the clouds cry.

My thoughts fly to you in the darkness of night
I hear a thunder, then the sky's turning bright
Where are you, love, will I see you in my dream?
Will I cry again, are you going to make me scream?

My thoughts fly to you in the darkness of night
Your face and your eyes are all I have in sight
But can I compare them to the beauty of the rain?
The lightnings and the thunders, a majestic refrain.

My thoughts fly to you, do yours fly to me?
I find no rhyme, so I'll just let it be.
Today I fell in love with the water from above
And I cannot decide for which of you I feel more love.

I wrote the poem last night while it was raining. I dreamed of him after that, I have been dreaming of him for the past two weeks. Kisses and stuff, the two of us being happy together. He texted me today, he wanted to go out but I couldn't. 

His thoughts flew to me. I knew it.

Monday, July 9, 2012


   It's almost 4 AM and I am sitting in front of my laptop, sleepless, tired. I am cold and warm and sweaty and I have cramps -- this time not from laxatives. This time it's from the craziness that surrounds me. The hot weather, bugs flying around me, eating and purging and awful chest pains that scare me to death: what if I die? So I wait and wait and wait, still hot and tired. I will try to sleep in the morning, but I know that I will fail because the weather won't get any colder; no, it will get hotter. I will feel worse and I will die, drowning in my own sweat and acid and tears and water.

   I don't know what to do, I can't go to sleep. I have been reading, surfing the internet, stalking people on the net, reading stupid useless articles and watching series, but nothing works. I have cramps, why the heck do I have cramps? I need to write to distract myself..

   The clock is ticking.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Chronically hallucinating.. (3)

   This is the last post from the "Chronically hallucinating" series. Enjoy it. (Warning: Long post, but I can't cure the passion, sorry.)

   If you have been reading my blog for a while, you should already know that I am fascinated by mental illnesses. While doing research and reading the symptoms, I have found that some apply to me. I will now talk about the cases in which many/most symptoms apply to me.

   Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified

  1. Meet all criteria for anorexia nervosa except have regular menstrual cycles
  2. Meet all criteria for anorexia nervosa except their weight falls within the normal range
  3. Meet all criteria for bulimia nervosa except they engage in binge eating or purging behaviors less than twice per week or for fewer than three months
  4. Purge after eating small amounts of food while retaining a normal body weight
  5. Repeatedly chew and spit out large amounts of food without swallowing
  6. Meet criteria for binge eating disorder

   Let's take them one by one. I am a bit skeptical and unsure about the first two. I am afraid of weight gain, I have a preoccupation with food content and calories, I have fine hair over my body (lucky me), I purge, I do not see myself the way others see me (thin, etc), I have depression (oh yesss), I am "withdrawn and secretive," my hair is a mess and so are my nails, I have constipation, maybe calcium deficiency (both my dad and therapist said that, because my muscles go numb and because they hurt very much sometimes), I can't see anything when I stand up because I am getting dizzy, sometimes my teeth hurt even in contact with air (breathing). 
   In conclusion, I do meet some criteria for Anorexia Nervosa, but still am at a normal weight (BMI around 19; under 18.5 to be underweight; under 17.5 to be considered anorexic) and have my periods. Therefore, I am not anorexic. 
   The above symptoms apply for bulimia too, I suppose. The only thing is that I rarely binge, because the purging does happen in my case (vomiting, laxatives). Therefore, I am not bulimic.
   Number four does apply.
   Number five and six do not apply.

   I guess I'm left with EDNOS.

   Schizoid Personality Disorder

  I am not very familiar with this one, since it only hit me a few days ago that I fit some of the diagnosis criteria.

  1. Neither desires nor enjoys relationships or human interaction, including being part of a family TRUE
  2. Almost always chooses solitary activities TRUE
  3. Has little, if any, interest in having sexual experiences with another person ? (I do not have interest in sexual experiences, but kissing and romatic-affectionate-ish things? Definitely.)
  4. Takes pleasure in few, if any, activities with other people TRUE
  5. Lacks close friends or confidants other than first-degree relatives TRUE (Not even first-degree relatives. I only trust my therapist, other people know nothing about me)
  6. Appears indifferent to the praise or criticism of others TRUE (more indifferent to praise than to criticism)
  7. Shows emotional coldness, detachment, or flattened affect ? (I have been told that I am not empathetic at all, that I am cold and sometimes mean. I feel exactly the opposite. I feel that, because I can relate to people's suffering, I am more empathetic than anyone, despite not showing it because I do not want others to see that I know what it is like to suffer)

Other things that apply to me:

[...]have trouble establishing personal relationships or expressing their feelings in a meaningful way, and may remain passive in the face of unfavorable situations.
[...]there occurs an impoverishment in which one's self image becomes increasingly empty and volatilized, leading the individual himself to feel unreal.
[...] secret schizoids presenting themselves as socially available, interested, engaged, and involved in interacting in the eyes of the observer, while at the same time remaining emotionally withdrawn and sequestered within the safety of the internal world.
[...] the schizoid individual is able to express a great deal of feeling and to make what appear to be impressive social contacts while in reality giving nothing and losing nothing; because he is only "playing a part," his own personality is not involved.
-Unloving, intrusive, or neglectful parenting is hypothesized to play a role. (I liked this one.)

   Selective mutism

   This is not a mental illness, but more like a symptom of anxiety disorder. 
   Children and adults with selective mutism are fully capable of speech and understanding language but fail to speak in certain situations, though speech is expected of them. [...] The failure to speak is not due to a lack of knowledge of, or comfort with, the spoken language required in the social situation.[...] The former name elective mutism indicates a widespread misconception that selective mute people choose to be silent in certain situations, while the truth is that they often wish to speak but cannot. To reflect the involuntary nature of this disorder, the name was changed to selective mutism [...] Despite the change of name from "elective" to "selective", a common misconception remains that a selectively mute child is defiant or stubborn.

   If you read everything that I managed to read/research in about two hours (SPD & Selective mutism - the EDNOS part was researched and experienced day and night for the last year or so), you, sir/lady, deserve a medal. Thank you very much.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Chronically hallucinating.. (2)

   The hallucinations.

   I don't know if I should really call them hallucinations, though I couldn't call them otherwise, either.

   I think it happened in April. I was on holiday, it was around 4 o'clock in the afternoon and I was at home with Dad and my brother. I wanted to weigh myself. To reach the scale, I had to get out of my room, go through my parents' bedroom and then into my mom's bathroom, where the only scale in the house is located. Therefore, I get out of my room. Before entering my parents' bedroom, I saw my mother entering the house and closing the door. She just came back from work, which was odd, since she never comes homes before 6. She walked to the mirror downstairs (I was upstairs) and put her keys on the table. She then took out her blackberry  and started reading e-mails. I didn't say hi, just kept walking until I got to the scale. I stepped on it -- it was totally off. I triple-weighed myself and got different numbers each time, so I gave up. I had to tell my mother that the scale wasn't accurate, so she could buy a new one. I went downstairs and couldn't find her. I went to my dad and asked him about her.
"She's, umm, at work?"
"But I swear she was here 2 minutes ago!"

   This happened to me twice, both situations with my mother coming home from work too early. It seemed so damn real. If that was not a hallucination, I don't know what it was.

   I also used to have auditory hallucinations on Saturday mornings. I used to lie in my bed after waking up and hear voices downstairs. It was usually one of my grandmas or my brother's ex-nanny. When I asked my parents if anyone had come over, they said no. I carefully listened each time, and could swear on God that I heard their voices and usually could also recognize whose voice it was. It was not the television. And my parent's don't have the ability, as far as I know, to change their voices to match my grandmas' and the nanny's.

   Sometimes, when I walk, I hear something "clicking" in my head with each step I make -- and it's not my earrings. It is an annoying sound, but it has not happened in a few weeks. Other times I just hear a long "riiiiing" somewhere far, far away, but it seems so near and it is disturbing, especially because I am the only one who can hear it. It also happens that I hear an old, high-note alarm tone from my mother's alarm-thingy. We have it since I was a little kid and used to play with it then. I do not hear it as if it would actually come from the alarm, but more as if it were in the back of my head.

   I think the hallucinations I got after not sleeping for a long period of time don't count -- because those are caused by lack of sleep. I was paranoid and saw all kinds of lights and shadows (among other auditory and tactile "hallucinations"). Check out the post here.

   That would be it, I guess. What do you think? Lunatic or not? Kidding.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Chronically hallucinating.. (1)

   Okay, that is just a line from Emilie Autumn's "Girls! Girls! Girls!" but it is the best title I could come up with. This post will cover three topics:

The world in my perspective (and how out of my body I feel sometimes
Mental illnesses symptoms that I have

Later edit: I will make a series of three posts, because they tend to get longer than they're supposed to and people will get easily bored of my ramblings.

  The world.

(Not trying to influence anyone's opinion/perspective/thoughts on the world. Just my thoughts on the subject, you do not have to agree.)

   I think that the world is practically useless. You are born, live a pretty shitty life and then you die. What is the point of living when you don't get anything in return? "Well, if you've lived a happy life, then it was worth it.." NO. What if you have had a happy life? You will die and after that, everything you have done would be forgotten. Yes, there might people who care about you, but the will die too.
   For example, a person who lived 700 years ago. Say it's a woman. She had a happy life, ten children who loved her and whom she loved, a loving husband and an overall awesome life. One sad, horrific day, poor woman died. Her family cried and mourned her and so on, and said that she would never be forgotten. A few years later, the husband died. The kids cried and mourned again and, a few decades later, they died too. They were cried for and mourned by their wives and kids. Later, those died too, and their friends and families were sad. Then, those died too and so on and so forth. WHO GAVE A FUCK ABOUT THE WOMAN ANYMORE? Yes, that woman in the beginning. No one. 

   Sometimes I feel that I am not myself. I look in the mirror and there is a girl who looks like me, but she stares back at me and talks to me and tells me that I am insane. She laughs and me and pretends to be crazy, pretends to have escaped from a psych ward or something. She points at me and tells me I am so stupid, so mad or so insane. She looks at me in the mirror when I cut and laughs at the cuts, "Is that all you can do?" or "Blood! Finally!"
    Sometimes, when I get up from a chair or bed, I feel dizzy. Actually, I always feel dizzy. Then I make a few steps while still being dizzy, but I can see some shapes and colors. After a few moments, I "wake up" and wonder how I got there. I vaguely remember walking towards that spot, but I keep denying that I am the one who brought me there. It feels like a dream. Or in the mornings when I get out of bed, walk towards the mirror, check the way my abdomen looks and then fall back on the bed because I am too dizzy. I blink a few times and feel nauseated, I close my eyes and after opening them, it feels like nothing had happened, like walking towards the mirror and falling back on the bed was all a dream.

--> Happy Birthday, America! :)

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Lady Butterfly

Release the butterfly,
Let it die, Let it die
For it can no longer fly
Let it cry, let it cry.

Lady Butterfly
Wants to go, let her go
Lady Butterfly is sad
All those fuckers got her mad.

I am Lady Butterfly
I'm the one who wants to die
I will now cut off my wings
Cut control, cut off the strings.

Down my fingers flows the blood
I throw my heart out in the mud
Careless whispers, silent screams
They turn to nightmares, no more dreams.

Restless mind, endless voices
My hear beating, million noises
All these monsters, they were under my bed
Now they're all crawling through my shadowed head.

They grab my feet, pulling me down
They bite me, in my blood I'll drown
I'm rotting, I am a mess
One more thing I have to confess:

Remember Lady Butterfly?
If she wants to, let her die.
I am Lady Butterfly.
I want to, so let me die.

-One month since we broke up.


   Well, how could I not be confused when he called me last night? I saw the phone vibrating, but he was the last person I expected to call me. So I answered, I think I had a funny voice because I was shaking and laughing.

   It takes him one week. One week to check how I am doing, if I am still alive, if I am okay. Or maybe he does it to avoid an awkward situation like me saying "But you said we'll keep in touch, and you don't even bother to say hi?!" which would have probably not happened, nevermind.

   Now back to the question, how could I not be confused? How could I know what's going on when my feelings towards him and our situation are so twisted? Last week I was crying and slitting my wrists and bleeding in the bathroom, my hand was numb, I didn't know how to kill myself faster -- and now I am manic, I had trouble falling asleep last night, I listen to Juliet (by E.A.) which is a song I didn't like so much, because it was too happy. I even ate breakfast, which I have never done in my entire life (a few exceptions here and there). I've taken laxatives anyways, which reminds me that I need to buy some more. I don't feel like eating a ton of food, I look in the mirror and look just fine. I have so many plans for the future and am enthusiastic about college and all those things.. I am no longer suicidal. I still think life is not worth living and that I'd be better off dead, because it makes a lot of sense to me that people die anyway, therefore there's no point in life. Thing is, I no longer want to kill myself, I don't need to cut (I think my last one got infected) and I am all in all feeling so much better.

   Which confuses me too, because on Sunday I started crying out of the blue because I wanted to die.

   Mania in ma' head! I am mad, don't tryna hide, we all mad heeere! Grab anada' cup of tea and folla' me!

Monday, July 2, 2012


   This is the way I have been feeling lately.

   I went to some kind of festival on Saturday evening. I expected to see him, and I was right. I walked past him four or five times, he must have seen me. I am sure he has seen me, or that his friend has at least seen me. He knows me too, and has probably exclaimed "Look, there's blondie."

   After that, I have seen my other ex. He is more physically mature, but I can't guarantee his mind has grown, too. No, it could not have.

   Every time I saw my guy coming towards me, my knees got weak and I felt warm. I didn't know which way to look. I purposefully chose to walk on a certain street, because I knew he would come there, too, and I was right! What if he did the same thing? No, it can't be. Because I'm the only one who stupidly believes things could be the same again.

   As soon as I got back home, I cut. I filled the sink with warm water and let the blood flow there. It was so bright red, a sink full of water and blood.

    Okay. Now I think my cut is infected, because I "played" a bit with it yesterday. I could be a damn good surgeon, if I were into Biology. I kept cutting and plucking my cut. I felt like saying "Scalpel" and "Suction, please," like in Grey's Anatomy.

   My therapist still wants to send me to a psychiatrist because I have been taking Nurofen, but I have talked about that before.

   The only reason why I am not killing myself is because I am afraid of the possibility of going to hell after that (since there is no absolute, trustworthy proof of its existence). But I felt so low on Sunday, so suicidal that I started crying because I had only one wish: to die, and not even that wish would be fulfilled anytime soon. I cried and cried and felt like crap, but I am better now.

   I am at my grandma's again, where there's a little less chaos. I feel suicidal the moment I enter my house and room, because that's the place where so much crap has happened. Cutting and vomiting and starving and laxatives and Nurofen and sitting on windowsills and fights and my mother leaving and me being suicidal and crying and so on.

"Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you

With the last breath of my soul I'll be blessing you." 

- Gloomy Sunday, The Hungarian Suicide Song.