Gothic Lolita

"I'm Gothic Lolita, and you are a criminal, and you should be killed by an army of little girls"

Hi there. It's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm sorry. I initially stopped writing because my computer broke. Then I thought I was "cured". I almost wrote a post on it. I'm glad I did not.

Goodness, what's happened in the time that I haven't been blogging? I got a job. I quit it. I got a boyfriend. I dumped him. I had my first kiss. I want to set myself on fire.

"But White Rabbit!" you ask, "Why would you want to set yourself on fire because you kissed a boy?"

BECAUSE HE DIDN'T FUCKING ASK, THAT FUCKER.

My Grandfather {who has narcissistic personality disorder} did some very...eerie {?} things to me when I was younger. Nothing explicit, although I won't go into any detail. It fucked me up pretty badly. I met with a social worker at a place that specializes in helping people through being violated. I didn't think I was sexually abused, I was going there because the medical ordeal I went through was extremely similar to that situation. I casually mentioned the things my grandfather did. We talked a bit, and I said something about my medical trauma, and she said, "Well, I'm more concerned about this" {referring to the things I said about Grandfather} She told me that what he did laid the foundation for...everything, really. Me not being able to be touched, my anxiety and depression...I was absolutely enraged. And I LIVE with this man. I have to see him every single day, the man who ruined my life, the man who ruined all that I could have been. Now I'm just this painful shell of a girl, I've gone completely mad. And it's all because of him.

So that's what I want to set Andrew on fire. Even after I told him to ease up on the touching he still did it. He expected a kiss after our date like fucking deserved it.

And he TOOK my first kiss away from me. He just leaned right over, very quickly and without warning, and gave me one of those long, slow kisses. I wanted to push him away in the back of my head but I was too sick and nervous too. I tried to be happy afterwards. I told my mother it was the "best first kiss ever!". I wanted to die.

Today I broke down about it. I told my mother how I felt. She tried to sympathize about it the best she could. She kept telling me I was being irrational, telling me it didn't really matter and that everything was fine. This did not help. It ended up with my screaming and beating the shit out of the interior of the car, and then crying hysterically, curled up in a little ball. I felt all around raped, especially by Andrew. Something's wrong there. A kiss should not feel like rape. That's why I think something more happened with my grandfather. The aftermath is a bit disproportionate to the events.

He used to give me baths. {this may be triggering for some people, so don't say I didn't warn you} "Special" baths. He used to say he would clean everywhere. I would of thought it was normal. I wouldn't of thought anything of it at all. My Grandmother always taught me to clean my "front bottom" in the bath and shower. {which resulted in many infections, but she didn't know any better} He would of been doing what he's supposed to be doing.

I don't know. My mother denies it viciously. She tried to brush the other things off as normal and maybe a bit out there, but harmless. She said back in his day they just did things like that. Apparently she was wrong. I can understand that it would be hard for her, hearing that about her father. {who beat her as a child} Everyone wants to bury their heads in the sand. They think it's nothing. They don't want anything to change, not matter how badly it needs to.

My little cousin spends the night with him like I used to. Her mother has actually expressed concerns about him molesting her, yet she continues to let her stay with him. She just wants someone to take my cousin off her hands for awhile. She's one of those mothers. There's nothing I can do. I'm scared for her.

If any Army member has any ideas, please suggest them. I'm at a loss.

My case is going to be matched to a therapist Tuesday. Hopefully I'll get an appointment not long after that.

The first thing the social worker said to me after she asked me questions was, "I think you're in hell."

Dear Diary

I wrote in my old journal today. Here is an excerpt from it referencing the change that happened in 2009, from happy to miserable:

"I went to an asylum in early 2009. Got off the Tramadol I was addicted to because it was causing psychosis and had the best 2/3rd of a year ever. I was happy. Me. Happy. Then something changed. What, I cannot say. No horrific trauma. No death. No nothing. It happened within hours. My life was changed from then on. Now I'm angry. I'm so fucking angry and confused. I deserved to be happy after all I went through. My joy was ripped away with no reason. I wonder what I did wrong. What sin I am paying for. What did I do that was horrible enough to merit such a punishment? The misery itself is enough, but coupled with the brief taste of happiness...this truly must be hell."

How melodramatic. But, that doesn't make it true. I'm still horribly confused, and I feel that I will stay that way my entire life.

I've been taking a lot of medicine lately. I just want to sleep. When I'm not asleep I'm high. Then I go back to sleep. But now I can't sleep because I've slept so much. These hours are truly horrific.

But as I look back through the earlier pages of my journal, back in 2007, I realize these days will one day be a memory too. One day it will all be over and I can finally live. I'll look back on my entries and...maybe laugh, maybe cry, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that this will be gone.

Well, I came awful close to suicide last night. Felt horribly cold on the inside. I can't fucking wait until this medication works. I only seem to be getting worse.

I find it unfair that I have to act normal. That I have to go about with life while I'm falling apart. It's all External Me's fault. She makes it to where no one sees how much pain I'm in. Well they should see. But she won't let down her guard. I just want to run screaming into the night but she'd never allow it. Someone with a physical disease can stay home, show their pain, bitch and moan {I would know, I have that too}, but for someone like me people say to suck it up and carry on. I have Fibromyalgia, TRAPS {extremely rare and painful} Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, and a bunch of other fucking diseases. I'd rather feel the pain a million times over if I could just have my sanity. The mental issues are a thousand times worse than any physical pain I've felt. {and I've felt some of the worst}

I can't even clean my fucking room. There are gnats everywhere. I can barely see the floor. I have a narrow spot to sleep on my bed because of all the shit on it. Every time I feel well enough to clean I get depressed again and it gets filthy. It's futile. I'm just sit at night and wait to die. In the day External Me takes over and fakes being happy for me, but at night it's a nightmare. I'm getting worse. I don't know what to do anymore.

In a few minutes I'll be barely conscious, so I thought I'd do a quick little post because why not?

I had my first cello lesson today. I look forward to completely frustrating my teacher with my inability {would you believe I typed unabilify?} to read music due to my dyscalculia. I have a strong musical ear, though.

I had the strong urge to off myself today, despite external me having a real time. I felt empty and cold on the inside. The second I wasn't occupied with something I wanted to string myself up from the ceiling. She's such a bitch, doing that all the time.

Last night I thought I might die. My 200mg of Seroquel made me so unbearably sedated. I stood up and couldn't walk. I stumbled around my room a bit before going in to sleep with my mother, telling her to watch me incase I stop breathing. The only reason I DIDN'T want to stop breathing was mother. I couldn't do that to her. It would crush her. If it wasn't for her I would have offed myself long ago. I wonder what happens after you die. I suppose that's another reason, fear of the unknown.

I'm starting to feel less of a connection to people. I'm separating the personalities even more so. External me can have her relationships, her hobbies, her emotions, but I don't feel them very strongly at all. It's like I'm wearing bubblewrap around me. If someone touches me in said bubblewrap, I can barely feel it. Things cease to thrill me. Her emotions are so shallow. I wish I could feel them, though.

Sigh. When will this medication kick in? I just want to sleep now. I'm bored with everything.

Fare-thee-well.

EDIT: Holy shit please don't think I'm killing myself or something. I re-read this and that's what it sounds like, sort of. No, I am not killing myself. Rest easy.

Rose, Rose, Rose Red

This is what inspired her name. The particular lyric is "For this freedom, I have given all I had, for this darkness I gave my light. For this wisdom, I have lost my innocence. Take my petals and cover me with night."

Baby's First Visual Hallucination

Good god that was terrifying. Allow me to set it up;

I was all dressed up and walking around the pool on the Midnight Hour as usual, having olfactory hallucinations as usual, everything was so usual. No nerves, no fear, nothing. I was feeling particularly well. I was looking out at our woodsy back yard when I saw it. A gigantic, white, {hooded?} figure moving slowly yet quickly in front of the trees. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared, and when I did it turned into leaves. I gasped, turned, and bolted inside. I ran upstairs to tell mother. She told me it was probably my mediation making me sleepy. I told her I wasn't very sleepy at all and this was a very obvious hallucination. She said everything would be fine and that I should go to sleep. Oh, I forgot to mention {this is a bit funny}, when I told her, she clutched her covers, eyes widened and said "...that's spooky."

The figure itself wasn't all too horrifying. The situation was. Seeing something that's not there...I can't even explain it. Especially alone outside at night. But I saw it so clearly, it moved so swiftly and obviously. It moved like it knew I was watching. I cannot explain that, I'm sorry.

I'm taking a pill, you bet your life I am. I can't handle this sort of thing as sober as I am. What do I do? What comes next? I'm obviously getting worse. First the delusions, then the olfactory hallucinations, then the auditory hallucination, and now I'm fucking seeing things!? What is wrong with me? Why am I like this? I've turned into someone from a movies I used to watch! I used to see "crazy" people on TV and it all seemed so distant from my life. But it crept up on me. Slowly, like a plague. I suppose it really can always get worse, can't it? I can only imagine what's next. I hope I don't lose my self awareness, my self-control. I don't want to be a babbling lunatic. God, I hope this Seroquel works. I don't want these hallucinations to combine. What if they come closer? What if they speak to me? No, no! I can't have that! I just can't! I would fling myself off a bridge!

My dear Army, hope this mediation works. Down with Rose-Red!

Fare-thee-well.

Kill Bill

My grandfather likes to piss me off. What an angst-y, teenager thing to say, right? But ask any member in my family. He likes attention. He is addicted to my negative attention. Like I said, ask the rest of my family. He will come into the room I'm in and fuck with me.

He's really someone I want dead. Rose-Red wants him dead. I really scared him just now. We got in some fight that he took too far {with my grandmother repeatedly telling him to stop} and I started screaming, "SHE'LL KILL YOU. SHE. WILL. KILL. YOU. SHE HATES YOU. SHE'LL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP." He left after that.

He wants attention? I can give him attention. I can give him a lot of attention.

But the funny thing is, is when I give him positive attention, he's aloof and despondent. He wants the negative attention, not the positive. God, I hate him and his Narcissistic Personality Disorder so much. He abuses the whole family so I abuse him. I'm like a mad dog, I bark and foam at the mouth so he won't come near. We ask him to get help but he refuses to. He says he's not hurting us after we tell him he is.

He needs to be executed.