HEADPHONES ARE MY GREAT ESCAPE

Like, I have just put on my big, ear covering Sennheisers and ah! The bubble! I need to chill out for the day. Like a lot.

Let me explain why I freaked out in that last post.

It was a cousin that followed that new Instagram. A cousin that liked a lot of my pictures at that, I don’t know if she read the captions, but they were binders, guy-brows, you name it.

I ran into her the other day. And I had completely forgotten about it but the more I think about it the more I am like OMG, that’s why she was so weird with me. And now I have also realised that somehow, from that Instagram account, she will find this blog.

I went to check out my Pinterest, to find I have notifications from people I know, but don’t even follow. So that freaked me out.

A guy at work asked me how I know a load of people and I asked “OMG, what are you doing? Facebook stalking me?” and he said no, Instagram. Inside my head, the alarm goes off and it’s like what account? My account or MY ACCOUNT?

I really do not need any more stress right now.

So, the headphones have come out, and I have found a video of Yiruma’s “River Flows in You”. I am trying to switch off, but I guess I just know that really I’m slipping. I’ve been kidding myself that I am fine, I think, but dealing with Josh for all these months, having stuff I’ve said seemingly go ignored, a couple of weeks of working with little notice about when I’m in next… it’s added up. Every day now I have an urge to cut. My legs are already getting slices that just start showing blood. what a fuck up am i huh.

i kinda wish i was back at that flat, guaranteed nobody will walk into my room because i just want to break. but instead i have to go into the bathroom and then my mum starts asking if i’m okay because ive been in there a while. fuck who am i kidding, I am breaking

i wish that everybody I have all the fucking time for stopped to give me time sometimes,

i wish that people fucking paid attention to me. because i swear they dont

or that if they really gave a shit, maybe theyd notice when im fucked

i wish my parents didn’t know. i hate it. or that my mum would stop being so rude about the fact i keep getting mens clothes. I asked for mens tops at work, although they don’t fit well either so i might just take them back anyway, but she was like OH you don’t want them to get the wrong impression! I said it’s a fucking tshirt. it doesn’t matter. then she said “it matters to us!”

WELL FUCKING SORRY.

SORRY I FUCKING WEAR A TSHIRT THAT DOESNT SUCTION IN TO MY WAIST AND HAVE PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR SLEEVES AND NECK LINES THAT MAKE ME WANT TO THROW UP.

if she is so fucking concerned why doesn’t she bring it up. she keeps expecting me to tell her when she asks if something is wrong, WHY WOULD I. you spit on everything i do to try and be comfortable.

so i bought mens boxers, fuck you.

so i tucked my shirt into my trousers (which, might I add were both from the women’s section) and looked “manly” when I thought it was smarter than leaving it untucked, fuck you.

so I sit with my legs apart when im comfortable, fuck you.

so I have men’s .. well they don’t call it perfume but whatever, fuck you.

so i asked for a men’s top at work because I preferred the fact it actually was a polo shirt and had buttons and the women’s one just has a fucking V thing and a collar, regardless if the men’s ones have to go back and I’m trying to get even smaller ones, fuck you.

my dad? he hasn’t said a word about any of this.

i keep seeing people called robin that are girls as well, its fucking killing me, even though they spell it with a Y instead of an I, i am beginning to resent it. but even if I went for Matt, I can’t be called Matt. With my surname it would be fucking ridiculous. and I cant seriously change my name to like Maz, because thats a nickname . i dont want to be called maz either it sounds like a stupid way to shorten my name

whatever. to be honest i feel like a fucking fail. i dont bind because i hate it. i dont want to measure for a better binder because then my mum will fucking nag at me when i wear it. i dont want to cut my hair because what happens if i miss it being long it will look stupid if i grow it out. i dont want to chuck out my clothes and replace them because i am fucking picky and also more mum complaining.

i just want this shit to be over and simple. i never got josh to understand. and the fucker called me his girlfriend at the doctors the other day. I want to punch him so bad for it, one because we aren’ even together and the fucker hasn’t even told his family and two GIRLfriend. FUCKING GIRLfriend? i was gonna say friend but he fuckin misgendered me again and i couldn’t even say anything or he would have kicked off at me. he kicked off anyway because I was upset that he had planned to go without me to this appointment that i had booked of work to go with him for. he read a text i sent asking what the plan was for the morning and he ignored it. then i went anyway and he isnt even grateful for it. after that he bailed on me too, we had a deal that we would both sort out the doctors, him for an initial appointment, me to register so i can sort out my tablets. He went home. and apparently he didn’t order me when i suggested not to go.

so yeah. too much. ive sliced up my arms which i am now paranoid about, sliced up my legs, taken one of the immediate effect tablets because last night was too much. I have a mate who is going through a lot worse than me, but i just needed to talk to him about everything and i feel like sometimes he judges me if i only start to talk to him by discussing myself so we had a bit of a chat about him at the moment and out of nowhere he just goes im taking a break from people. it took me about ten attempts to not sound like i was stupidly fucking upset about that

because i was. but how can i possibly be like oh fuck your problems stay and listen to mine

so yeh. and the other guy i normally talk to is always fucking everywhere but around to help and when i go to his events i never see him anyway and i dunno.

then theres the usual lot who seemed so fucking supportive the night i drunkenly told them but i guess now theyve forgotten and i’m so exhausted to correct them but so fucking upset to try when they still call me she. it fucking slaps me in the face.

i dont even know how to tell everybody

i can’t write a letter because i did that for when i came out and my mum thought i killed my fucking self . and now she is fucking paranoid because she googled my tablets and sees all this shit about suicide and i cant be fucking dealing with that.

i really want to delete my facebook as well

but then that IS my life. not as in like social.. i dont know but that stuff thats on there did happen to me i just hate seeing a lot of it and then also i know my.

see my mum is always something that pops up. she is the fucking thing that breaks this family. and honestly, its like OMg you shouldn’t say that but she does.

i dont care anymore

i should be happy right? new job? doesnt matter.

i miss that flat, i miss being able to to whatever the fuck i wanted to myself to kill feeling numb or feeling too much now i am terrified of my mum barging in like she does the woman doesn’t knock and wait she knocks and carries on to push the door and that makes me want to fucking do it even more. the fact that omg i still need some space. i may be fucked, but monitoring me and spying and poking and prodding me just makes me feel worse

i really shouldn’t but im debating whether its okay to take those tablets two nights in a row or im gonna fucking

i think my scissors have moved

fucking . oh no i moved them i think

to stop myself after taking that tablet last night from cutting anymore

and they think that if you “have any feelings of self harm or suicide you should call an ambulance or something whatever they said its like YEAHHH! im totally gonna call them and have the sirens turn up at my house and come for me and my parents and al the neighbours will be fucking staring  and i have to be like oh please sir help me i want to kill myself! well i don’t normally go for it to kill myself but i mean oh please sire … sire ha. help me i want to fucking run a pair of scissors across my neck because its aching like i need to do it and what then , where the fuck will i end up for the night? monitored.

more monitorin when i get home

or maybe ill be so fucked on medicines or my own head i wont notice there little fucking beady camera eyes

its like i have a fucking phobia of Big Brother but jeez. i cant even call or rather i dont feel like i can call people in this house and talk about stuff without my mum eventually drifintg by to fucking listen in. i call people maybe 1 in ….i dunno 100 times for improtant conversations in my house, i always text because then nobody can listen

nobody can hear me screaming nobody can hear me fucking break that little bit fucking more. just text and text away. why do you think i like wordpress so much(!) freedom to fuck up. freedom to say all the things that nobody else listens to.

sometimes i wonder why people follow, because this place is a dark fucking cold shit post on a website tht i dont even use to read anything , i just write on here. about how i am miserable and crying and fucked in the head and fucked outside of that shit tip too. but this is what i do. i ramble to people who cant see me, wont meet me, just know my life and watch me squirm. because you guys are kind of like my little supporters. yay go me, youre fucked but you seem to have a literery,, well this isn’t literary at all , but you have a way with words that people love, wait till you see them rip somebody to shreds. because i can do that by the way.  and i reckon i do it because i just have to ruin everything and be miserable so i can cry alone and contemplate wrapping the headphone cords around my neck and I need to stop this shit.

YOU.
if you are reading this, you are actually reading somebody having a mini breadkown.. wtf is tjsi. I@m listening to uckin…WTF piano music went disgustingly wrong and turned into a cover and yeah

youre listening to breakdown on radio fook fm! enjoy because fuck knows, maybe i.

who am i kidding, “maybe i won’t post this” i’ve posted stuff like this before. yeah sorry new followesrs :\. this is what the blog does. it spins like a mutthafukka! im sorry my life is miserable. i wish i have like really o.

well i do have cool news i might be swapping to be a marshal at my job which means i get to stay inside with the cool guys but that doesn’t take away that ache. self harming is sick kids don’t try it! its fucking. sick. because i know ill smile later. i hate it but it makes me fucking smile and omg kudos if you are still reading at 2149 words! hey miss, how’s my english essay? fucked. like me! fucked because there is no proper punctautio i can’t even b ebothered. cant be bothered to spell check or make sure things make sense. if youre still reading it either makes sense or you have a full fucking notebook next to you HA!

i think im literally jsut going intil i run out of steam, get the fucking awful out of my ssystem yeah im just like ajclakjdhflkajsdhf flipping. flopin ueah

thats hit. s.fcugk

btw im not dying. maybe i shiuld poitn that out. im just finaly getting worn out from having so much fucing crazy emotion going on. wordpres, you got my bak bro. you got no advice but you got the fuckin ears. robiticlike.ears. go you wordpress

and if ANYBODY finished then, well done. you are a true follower of mine, sorry i dont follow you but thanks for going through my crazy ass journeys. not including spell check 😉

and of course, this is posted.

 

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