O, Hark! For Before I Knew Your Name!

I am supposed to be in bed. I am supposed to be sleeping. I intend to get up for a run in the morning. But where am I.
I'm at the table in my room, in front of my laptop. I am on the profile of several old friends and I am crying. Some of you are gone, others for good and I am sad because you all have lives.
I'm sort of stalking you I guess. It's upsetting me when I see photos of your other lives. You're out partying, taking piano classes, playing with babies and (I thought this an odd shot for a public album) buying underwear. You're doing it with new people.
That came out wrong but I've not got the effort to rephrase it. I'll just it leave it as is.
I don't even know why I'm bothering. We don't talk any more and if we do, I feel as though I'm the burden of who you used to be, dragging you down.
And that's ok. You never had to or have to like me. I just wish we were still friends and that everything was not the same but very similar.
I wish I could write you an email about how my day went. Maybe comment on your status. I won't though. I'd be intruding and then I'd have to re-introduce myself to you. I'll just watch here from the sidelines. Don't worry, I won't break into your house and cut off some of your hair to keep or something creepy like that.
I'll just keep an eye on you, see if you're doing ok and whether or not you're happy. We're kinda past the point where we can just pick up and be friends I think. I'd ask you if you agree but you'd never answer.
That's ok too. It's like you know the rules too. Well, there aren't really any rules. Not officially. They're more like guidelines that everyone agrees to without knowing that they exist.
So, it's like you know them. I won't act like there is any hope of us being friends like we used to be and you won't get my hopes up. We're working together to not be. It was inevitable, I suppose.
For Clinky, Ryan, Mikaelah, Ryante, Susan, Bridgette, Sam (and Sam) and all my other lost loves. But mostly the ones from Year 8. You understood why we worked.
I wish you'd never left. Or maybe that I'd never let you go.

Had Enough? You're Not Alone

Before I begin, thanks are in order to BeyondBlue, the national depression initiative.
In my family, depression and anxiety disorders have only ever reared their ugly heads in the lives of our women. This lends an impression that because women are the most common sufferers of depression they are the worst off. This is not true. It may be the case that approximately one in every six Australian men suffer from depression at any given time whilst one in every three women suffer from the same illness but there is more to the emotions of men than they are given credit. I want to take some time out to share a bit of knowledge rather than rant about petty things such as how 'bad' my life is or how frustrating I find life.
Suicide rates in men are significantly higher than those for women. In fact, young men are four times more likely to commit suicide than a woman of the same age. Statistical evidence shows this is because men are more likely to turn to substance abuse rather than seek medical treatment. Men feel weakened by depression and it causes them withdraw further into themselves.
The general contention is that men should be men and depression is a women's illness or not even an illness at all. No person should be depressed and they definitely should not have to face it alone. We all have the right to speak up if something feels wrong or if we need help. Depression is no light matter and if it isn't taken care of properly, you become another statistic.
I'd like it if no one became a statistic any more. I understand that isn't possible but it is nice to dream...

Terreur Nocturne

I'm Sorry.

I know. I'm annoying. I frustrate people. I get distracted so easily.
I get it. It's hard not to want to slap me or tell me to shut up.
I'm working on it. I'm getting frustrated myself because it's taking too long but I am trying. I'm trying to impose less and I'm trying to cut myself out of the lives of others. I can tell that I'm not wanted. It's just proving harder than I thought to remove myself.
Don't worry. I'll get there. Soon I'll be able to ignore everyone who doesn't need me to remind them that I exist.
It's ok. You won't have to put up with me much longer. I'll get used to it.

How Can I Believe?

I do not believe in storing irrelevant newspapers in my mother's chest. She can not go to the Bahamas. Do not leave the Travel section of Sunday's newspaper in there. She can not go see any movie currently out or any play or anything. She can not SEE. So do not leave the Entertainment section of Sunday's newspaper in there.
I do not believe in storing the montage of photos of my mother anywhere but on top of my mother's chest. Do not leave the frame on a set of speakers. That is insensitive and of poor judgement. My mother will not be remembered by a set of speakers but rather the few things of hers that we keep in that chest. You insult not only my mother but also myself by leaving her image elsewhere.
The possessions in that chest were in perfect disarray. Every time I removed an item, I returned it to the exact same place in the exact same way. Every item had a place that was no place to anyone but myself and my mother. We knew where everything went and how. You had no right to organise the last true piece of her, the one thing I had left that was so Carolynne that it astounded me. Now it is you. It is clean and tidy Catrina. You folded and organised everything. My mother is no longer in the chest.
You have no idea how much that hurts. No person can understand how much this is hurting me. You just killed my mother all over again and it was an accident. I can't even blame you.

Toast Your Good Days

I have had the best day today and nothing anyone says can take that away from me. I have a Zebra named Tobey and Joey never met a bike that he didn't wanna ride and now I have a Tobey to prove I never met one I didn't like.
One of my girlies did my make up for me too so I felt pretty. I didn't even hate it. I just felt gorgeous and left it at that. I've had more chocolate than my arteries can stand and you know what? No fat comments. Not feeling it and there's no FatDay conscience. I can look in the mirror and there's no diving under the covers from it.
I have gorgeous crystal earrings and ONE pierced ear. Thank you Sarah. I just wish that maybe we'd iced it first so I didn't pass out when I heard my skin 'pop'. That was creepy and now I'm not letting anyone but Ben touch me.
I stayed at Ben's on Friday. WE DRANK! It's been ages since I've had enough courage to let myself drink. Left it at one bottle of wine though. 14% alcohol and I'm getting accustomed to drinking again. I WILL NOT EVER DRINK AS MUCH AS I USED TO and I WILL NEVER SNEAK OUT TO DRINK. If I have to sneak out, it's definitely too much for me.
Courtney made me cupcakes. She got an M and M cake, I got cupcakes. Muffin will get buttered muffins in September. This is how birthdays work in our circle now. We love and be loved. I am loved. It makes me smile and it gets me through all my days.
Tonight I will sleep and it will be painless. Beautiful even. And there will be volcanoes behind the lemon trees shading girls who do yoga. Bliss.

Oh, If It Were Real

I have recently been happy with one side effect of my exams. This side effect was the over-tired side effect. I was able to spend many an hour in deep and undisturbed slumber. Then it all came crashing down. I awoke today from my sleep to the realisation that the nightmares had begun again. It has been some time since my last.
In movies you can always tell when a characters has a nightmare. Their body twists and turns as they moan in their sleep. Then they suddenly jerk upright and pant heavily, their face covered in cool sweat.
I don't believe myself to have done the first two and I know I didn't do the third.
I'm also not entirely sure I was dreaming.
I do know that I was suddenly awake and aware of being awake. I was on my side (my left) and looking at Kiinnii without seeing her. Soon after I became aware of the heater in my room. It appears my mobile went off at the exact same time that I was aware of the possible dream existing.
The dream itself: All I was surely aware of was a feeling and it was so distinctly real. I know there was more but I don't know if I saw what happened or not. I don't know if I heard anything or not. I don't know if it even happened. I could just be going crazy. It feels like I've been working up to insanity for all these years but it has just been biding its time.
The problem with the dream: What I was aware of was the feeling that my stepmother was screaming and that my father had hit her. I was awake and in bed wondering if anything had happened. I wanted so badly to go upstairs and see if the world was safe. I couldn't and this is so disappointing. I was afraid and I lacked courage. I didn't want to believe that my father's rage had returned.
If it had...That was terrifying to me. I'm no longer protected by the immunity granted to children and that shows that I'm not as strong as I used to be.
I never used to care if my father would attack me. I would wait for it so I could stand there and prove to him that no physical beating could ever tear me down. Now I tremble at the thought of what his words and mind games can do to me.
I am a coward. Trina could have been hurt and I would just have stayed in my bed, safe and hidden to the world.