One day... the men in white coats sill come and get me.

So I lost 5kg the other day when I didnt eat for the day except breakfast. I was please but I dont have the willpower to carry on :S

I was with CC all day and had a good time (except I annoyed him by saying SB is not that bad when CC hates him because of an incident with his brother's girlfriend... meh).

Thing is, I said "I don't understand. ...How..."?
And then he kept bugging me to finish the sentence and I couldn't. I already think he thinks I like him more than I do. I do really like him but I worry that he thinks I am all clingy in love. But I was gunna say "How did I manage to be so fucked up, weird, out of control, complicated, ugly and unlovable... and still end up with a guy like you?"

I couldnt and wouldnt say it. Its fishing for compliments from a guys POV and its just horrible, but its so true. I could never say that to him but...I still dont understand.

SB still makes me giggle and flirt, but I prefer CC (Which is quite something). He's really into revision though, which is nice and makes him seem intelligent (which he is) and caring, but its annoying he's so controlled by exams.

I am a flirt, and I dont know if CC will accept it. He's quite possessive, and I dont know how I ended up with him... but i guess I did. We arent dating but we are seeing each other.

M is as tempting as ever. I'm desperate to do something with a girl, to check. I am so sure Im bi, but I dont want to come out and then retract it because it will look like some attention seeking scheme.

Ella and Chloe said I was the most popular girl in the year. I havent stopped thinking about that statement. It may be true I suppose, but I dont get how it happened! I'm friends with most of my year (except about 2) and quite a few of the year above. I'm a people person... I just don't get why they like me back.

Slightly depressed with myself at the moment. Loves xxx

Hi

The last post was an essay for English. I don't remember writing the last paragraph. It scared me to read it to the class when I found it.

How is everyone?

I feel ugly. I can say it. Sometimes you look in the mirror and feel beautiful, and sometimes you dont. Sometimes thin, sometimes fat.
It's one of those days. i was going to see CC but I felt about as attractive as Susan Boyle on a bad day. I wanted to see him. I wanted to cheer up a bit.

RE GCSE on Tuesday. Yey. I worry that I havent revised or slept. but Im going to try my best when I get in the exam and hope for the best.

Im so tired, I barely know whats going on. Im going off SB kind of, but when I see him I still get goosebumps. Im a flirt by nature though, and so I am pretty sure there is nothing there. I just realised that SB backwards is BS. Oh the irony.

I dont know whats going on at the moment. I havent noticed days passing, deadlines getting closer. I should be stressed. I really should.

M M M M

Mind Mind Mind Mind.

All that is on it.

M.


Well thats not true. I keep thinking about CC. I actually do and it scares me. ive trained myself not to fall in love, or even into like. I dont want to hurt him, I feel guilty flirting. I never feel guilty flirting but hes done this THING to my brain!

Oh deary me. Giddy giddy aunts and high heavens above.

Im off to bed. This post may need to be deleted at some point in the future.

Im sorry.

:p xxx

Hidden Behind Closed Books

Hidden Behind Closed Books

            Emma reached up and pulled the dictionary off the top shelf. English homework was tiresome at the best of times and having to use over 30 verbs in a 100 word essay turned into a more difficult task than she would have originally imagined. It was typical for the only proper dictionary in the house to be on the top shelf of her Mother’s bookshelf. As the book tilted towards her outstretched hand it fell just past her grasp, and from the pages flew about 30 thin pieces of paper, scattering all over the floor.

            Trembling, she picked one of the delicate pieces. She was not meant to be in Mother’s room and it had been a bad day at school. She couldn’t handle another disappointed look, as walking out of maths had meant a call to her parents from the headmistress. ‘Troubled past’ was one of those things which kept teachers on red alert. Since the ‘incidents’ last year she had always been on special alert by the headmistress, automatically contacting parents when there was a disturbance. Her attention was re-drawn to the thin leaf of paper in her hands, and she saw it was a letter. She began to read

“I am writing to tell you a secret. It’s an awful secret that I only wish you’d known sooner. You are 14 now, and I was only a little older than you when I got pregnant. I couldn’t handle myself, never mind a child. I gave my beautiful baby girl up for adoption. A little while later I got diagnosed with bi-polar disease, a genetic disease which can be fatal. This is why I’m writing to you. You are my beautiful baby girl. I wish you were here with me, I really do. Please get in contact, I need to talk to you. Love Mum”

            Suddenly Emma heard footsteps on the stairs, and quickly swept the letters back into the dictionary. She stretched and returned the large book onto the shelf. She ran back to her room, wondering who this mysterious woman from the letter was. At 16 she felt she needed some more freedom, but having all sharp objects taken from her, and meals given to her at certain times every day she had about as much freedom as a caged canary.

            The ‘incidents’ had scared her parents into being the opposite of what they used to be. The party-going free-wheeling couple had ignored their 15 year old daughter to the extent where she would do anything to get the attention which she so desperately craved. She used to be ignored when she didn’t eat for months. Then her parents screamed and shouted until their voices were hoarse and their throats were raw. And then it all stopped. Two weeks in hospital and 6 pints of blood lost was all it took for her rebellious cool parents to turn into the quiet and demure servants, waiting on her hand and foot. And yet she still wasn’t happy. Whilst mulling things over in her mind, she drifted to sleep, the last thing on her mind the image of a young girl, pregnant and writing a letter.

            Two days later, Emma ventured again into her Mother’s bedroom. Father’s stuff had long been disposed of, thrown out because her Mother could not bear the memory of the runaway coward – the one who couldn’t handle the problems that had overcome the family. She reached for the dictionary, more carefully this time, and walked back to her room, reading the 2^nd to last letter in the pile.

“Dear Emma, I am writing, again. I know by the fact that you have not answered for over a year that it is of little importance what I write, yet I still continue. Why? Because otherwise there is no hope that you may return to me for a while... You are 16, and I am 30. It seems so young, so irresponsible, and yet I know that you are more responsible that I ever was. I have no idea how long I have left on this Earth, The disease grows stronger daily. Even though you do not write back I wish you would get tested, I would hate for this plague to befall anyone. I am leaving you this jumper. It was my mothers, and her mother’s before her. I am your mother, and it is only right that this should now be yours. All my love, Mum”

            Dear Emma? Thoughts reeling through her mind, Emma’s head was filled with conclusions and subjunctive worries, what may or may not have happened. This was common for her, to imagine every possible bad outcome to the situation, so as to avoid hurt or pain. She opened the last letter and read quickly, desperate to try and find out what was going on, not wanting to waste time and regress to the 1^st letters.

            “Dear Emma, I write to you from hospital. This may be the last chance, but as I look out my window at the settling snow” ... Emma looked out the window to see a thin layer of frost covering the hedges, and she imagined this woman... her Mother?... writing and looking at the same weather. “I think that I must at least beg for forgiveness. I had no right not to visit, but as your Mother assures me that you lead a healthy normal life I should not bother you with warnings of diseases and new ideas. All my love. Mum.”

            Emma was shaking violently now, as the realisation flooded her that her worst nightmares were verified. Her one constant, her Mother who had stayed strong where her weak father had left her, was not her Mother at all. Her craving for attention, the desire to remove all pain, the swaps from high to low and happy to abysmally sad, were not her choice but a disease which removed the control she thought she had.

            Curling up in a ball on her bed, Emma’s silent sobs echoed through her body but went no further than her skin, and she thrust her wrist into her mouth to stop the shrieks she could feel building. She bit down, hard, harder than she had ever bitten before, until she felt the skin break. The bitter iron liquid flooded her mouth, but she continued to bite as the hole in her body was a hole from which the bad things she had read flowed onto the sheets like a coursing river gushing through a break in the rocks. She felt herself drowning in the pain, and as her door opened, she blacked out. 

Developements

A little bit more sorted. Kind of. :)

Stress overload with stuff to do and people to see, and my sleepings gone again, but some things are cleared up.

When I see Sir Brocolli I still do a double take, and I like him when I see him. But the other day he asked if I wanted to meet up on monday morning (bank holiday) and I said I'd text him... and then I just... forgot. I guess that means Im not that bothered.

I saw CC and didnt go as far as I thought I might. We ran out of time annoyingly. We will go further soon though, my choice :)

M. Oh my giddy gods aunt. Heres where the confusion never ends. Today, she was with a group of friends, and a girl - lets call her Sarah - owed me money. I was doubling tonight for tomorrow, but because of the bank holiday I thought today was Tuesday in my mind. Therefore Thursday was 2 days away. Sarah was moaning so I told her that fine, Id double it on Thursday instead. She smiled and I left, thinking nothing of it. Suddenly she shouted, as she realised tomorrow is Thursday. I had just thought they would have thought I was being stupid, but they didnt... they thought I was being smart.

One of the girls said 'you sly cow' :P In a nice way and I laughed, and then as I left I heard M say "I love Sandy", in that way you do when someone makes you laugh. I overreacted but I swear I havent stopped smiling. Its such a little thing and I know its not meant as romantic but Oh my God!

Also, in class the other day we were talking about guys and girls and she said that if she could choose she would be a boy. I found this interesting... wonder if it could possibly mean something?

She chatted to me in science, laughing about me and my made up crush on a made up 24 year old. She made him up in biology, it was a laugh but Im so nervous around her!

Its weird, I just dont know. I have a feeling she suspects I like her. I just am so paranoid...

Meh well. Not much has really happened. Im behindish on Spanish and dying as my list of things to do pile up, but Ill get there.

Love
xxx