Still alive?!

So it's been what....? Kami-sama knows how long. Heh. What can I say, I have a terrible way of forgetting I have to do things....or that they're even there to do.

Would anyone ever actually read this?

*snort* Sorry, just thinking about what someone told me.

"I don't want to loose all the memories I hold precious. Memories help make you who you are, they are precious and few don't hold them close to their heart, painfully though they might be. But if you die, they'll disapear forever. It makes me sad, knowing that I could never remember this, never remember me here, everything I loved and hated..."

Yeah, I can relate. But I don't want to think morbid thoughts. There are enough things to really get anyone down.

I don't really have anyone I can talk to. I guess that's why I finally decided to put something here. I'm sick of having to be cheerful and friendly with people. That's what everyone used to expect me to do. You know, be the bright, perky, genki one. I even got nicknamed 'Bubblegum Princess' by my 'friends'.

As if.

I'm pretty anti-social now. I'm just tired of people being near me. It's so much simpler to just be left alone. I guess that's why I prefer online friends. You don't have to make excuses to be alone in a room, and there's a buffer between you. Emails are especially good. I can take my time and reply when I'm in a better frame of mind.

But why am I writing this now?

I guess my memories have just decided recently to resurface. God I've had a fucked-up life!

When I was sixteen my headteacher told me I should write an auto-biography. Me! At sixteen! Apparently I'd lived through so much by then that I had shocked the hell out of her.

Well, I'm twenty-two now, so what do I have to write about?

Let's see, since then I've discovered a lot about myself, some of which doesn't faze me, the rest freaks me out. I've had three failed suicide attempts and discovered the necessity of self-harm. I have a row of four parallel scars running down the inside of my left arm around three & 1/2 inches long and numerous delicate silver lines criss-crossing both insides of my arms, courtesy of a *very* sharp knife. The rest have long since faded, but these will take a while longer to go.

I'm better though, it's been about four months since I last scratched myself. The four large scars were made by my fingernails. The knives were out of reach. So I used my fingernails and scratched myself down until I bled, until I got to muscle....I needed the raw pain it caused. The burning, stinging, searing and oddly dry sensation it caused, much longer-lasting than any knife cut.

Outwardly I look perfectly normal. No goth looks, hardly any make-up, normal trousers and t-shirts or sweaters. I don't follow fashion, I just wear what's comfortable.

I have one mild vanity, that's my hair. It's thick, black and right now it's in a braid hanging down to my waist. It's my comfort.

Why do I feel like this? I just don't know. I feel like I'm going to scare away people which I want to like me because of my attitudes. I have this desperate need to be liked, to be wanted, needed even if it hurts me.

I crave reassurance. I need to know that I'm not invisible, that I'm not just another number or statistic.

Am I ever going to get rid of this desolate ache?

Gah!

Things are getting too morbid even for me.

I have writers block. Weird how I can sit and write this, yet I'm having trouble replying to my email, or finishing my fics. I can't seen to be able to write for that darn fanfic contest. I don't know why, writing has always been my life. The one thing which no-one can take away from me. I know I can craft a good story, but sometimes I doubt if they're even worth reading.

I mean, I see what some people write, just as a hobby, and I wonder how on earth I could possibly come close to being as good as them. No names, but if you read then you probably already know.

I'm going to post this then get butterflies in my stomach, alternately dreading and wanting someone to read this. How whacked up is that?

I do think that some of what I've done is to get attention, or it would have been. I'm too good at hiding things. I would get cold feet at the last minute, I don't like bothering people. So I would remove any evidence and pin my slightly battered mask back into place and smile like a grinning fool for my friends.

I never used to know who I was.

First I was the nerd, the bookworm, the teachers pet. It wasn't intentional, I just had an insatiable desire to *learn*. I needed to discover everything and anything about the world I was in. Of course, it didn't help that I didn't actually go to school until I was twelve, and my main source of school-related matters had been the classics I had been brought up on. The cultural shock itself was overwhelming.

Then, after being bullied for three years, I snapped. Me! I could hardly believe it. It was such a rush! It didn't matter that I was short, needed glasses to see and was virtually blind without them, or that I had friends which I already knew only used me for the knowledge I had in my brain. When I was in a fight I could let everything out. I was free for a brief, breathless moment.

So then I became a bitch.

I taunted teachers, who were more than a little horrified and shocked to watch my change, I removed the bullies and any obstacles in my way. I got nick-named the 'Ice Queen' by the teachers...not the pupils, the teachers. I apparently freaked out some of them.

Once, my English teacher took me to one side, I don't remember what she said, I just remember than familiar white brick wall close up protectively around me. I used to imagine it as a sort of tower with me on the inside, sitting in the dark on the grass while this circular wall rose up, surrounding me like a weird sort of igloo.

I can remember her shaking me slightly, trying to get my attention. I just blinked and asked her what was wrong. The look in her eyes...Kami!! I didn't know I had *that* sort of effect on them. To them, from what she was trying to explain, I looked like I wasn't there. It was like I was looking straight through them, like I had vacated the room, my body. That's why the teachers were calling me the 'Ice Queen'. I didn't know whether I should have felt flattered or insulted.

But anyway, what was I writing? Yep that's me, getting side-tracked by everything.

Kami!! It's awful trying to type. Or even see the damn computer screen.

I have a blood clot behind the retina in my right eye. It's messing everything up big-time! I can't focus properly, things are in two depths and I have a huge black spot in my vision. It's very annoying.

I think I'll leave this here. It's getting a bit long and I have things I'm supposed to be doing.

Ja ne....

~Shi-koi~