I'm so fucking tired of waking up choking and sobbing. You're not supposed to be able to dream until you reach REM, right? I seem to dream before I even close my eyes. The very second I fall asleep, I start dreaming, talking in my sleep, beating myself in my sleep. I'm so fucking crazy. I can't tolerate it anymore. I really miss my cat and I know a lot of people think that's pathetic. I miss my sweet, beautiful, tiny little lovable friend who was always there for me since I was 17. I miss her more than I can admit. I still cry about her a lot. I'm able to turn off my feelings for people pretty easily, but I can't for her. I miss her little purring body next to mine. I just fucking miss my cat.
I feel so crazy and out of control, and it seems to be on the increase and lasting much longer than normal. I've been hurting myself a lot. I used to cut a few times a week. That would be considered a bad week. Lately, I've been cutting many times a day, but cutting isn't as satisfying as it used to be. I've resorted to cutting and then punching the cuts as hard as I can. I feel really fucked up admitting this, but the other day I almost punched a razor into my leg. I snapped out of my weird trance like state and stopped myself before I did it, and then totally lost it. It scares me that I almost did that. You'd think after doing something so crazy, I'd sober up and do something healthy, but I didn't. I freaked out, started crying and slamming my head into the wall. I'm fucking insane.
I can't stop thinking about the photos and how many people have seen them. How many more of them are out there? How many computers am I on? I percolate on it constantly. I'm constantly worried about it. I have to keep reminding myself to unclench my stomach muscles and my jaw. I'm so freaking tense all the time. Tim used to tell me that I would be taken away and locked in a place where they put crazy people like me. He was right. They did lock me with crazy people. The hospital I went to when I was 12 was full of scary kids and teens. One teen boy had killed two people. One girl had a baby and killed it. One girl would walk around talking to herself. She flooded her bathroom, took off all her clothes, and tried to go swimming in the wet carpet in her room. She was this giant girl that used to pull tissues from her bra and hand them to me. My roommate tried to hang herself with her bra, and one boy would rock and scream whenever anyone went near him. I was in the adolescent unit, across from the children's unit. My brother was in the children's unit. We used to wave at each other through the glass.
I was terrified of those kids back then, but now I'm so fucked up that I make some of those kids look normal. Tim was right. I was crazy. I was fucked up. I am crazy and fucked up. Maggie did make me leave. I've been working really hard this past year to change my life, to try to have a life worth living, but I just seem to be getting worse. I don't blame the people who have dumped me. I wouldn't want to be in my life. I wouldn't want this screwed up disgusting person in my life. I wouldn't want so much fucked up drama in my life. Lets face it, my life is the definition of fucked up drama, unyielding fucked up drama. It hasn't even been three months into 2012 and I've totally lost it.
I'm an adult now. I should be able to handle life's stresses and not turn into this monster when I am alone. I'm terrified of the night, but the scary monster in the closet that comes out and attacks me at night is me. Why do I torture myself? Why do I torture myself with fucked up dreams? I'm crazy. I'm fucking crazy. I keep smelling things that aren't there. The smells are so unpleasant and overpowering. They aren't even "bad" smells, they are bad scents by association. The smells are so strong that sometimes I gag and dry heave. I keep searching for the source before I realize that I am the source. I'm smelling something that doesn't exist. Then I flip out and I get trapped in those places, with those awful smells.
I've also been hearing a lot of things. I can be having tea with a friend and suddenly my mom will be screaming at me or I'll hear Tim whisper in my ear. I feel his breathe too. Sometimes parts of my body will just start hurting really badly for no reason. Sometimes the pain is so intense that it's hard not to cry, and I know I have a really high pain tolerance. Sometimes all these things happen all at once. I'm fucking crazy. I'm seriously fucking crazy.
I've been trapped like this for hours tonight. I tried to sleep and dreamed about Tim and pictures. I dreamed about Tim taking pictures and the dreams felt real, very very real. I woke up, but the dream didn't stop. I don't even think these things can be called "flashbacks" because I don't remember pictures. I don't really remember very much pain from my childhood. I mean, I know there was pain. I had to have reconstructive surgery to fix some tears from my "straddle" injuries. I was covered in bruises and spent time in hospitals from beatings from my mother, but I have very very few memories of pain and the ones I do feel like they aren't really memories, so why do I keep feeling these phantom pains? Schizophrenia?
I'm developing these really obnoxious anxieties. I'm afraid to sleep in my bed all of a sudden. I've been sleeping on my very uncomfortable couch because my bed makes me anxious, like so anxious that I've had a few panic attacks about it. What the hell is wrong with me? When will this stop? I feel like I'm just going to continue to lose control until they lock me in a place with crazy people for the rest of my life. I feel so out of control. I feel so overwhelmed. It's too intense. Sometimes I pace around my apartment like a lunatic because I feel so overwhelmed--so much pressure that I don't know what to do with. I'm losing my mind. That girl that held everything together, that worked two jobs and went to school full time, that was determined to be a decent human being, and have a successful healthy life is gone. She's dead. A monster ate her alive. I'm so tired of living inside this prison of mush people call my brain. Everyone tells me that I should write a book about my life, but I don't want to write a book. I have nothing great to say. I just want to close the book and burn it. Twice.