Was just chilling, watchin that historical henry the 8th thing on telly. Some woman on there was so beautiful, I didn't mean to, but as I sat there tears started just rolling down my face. I don't feel beautiful at all despite what Jimmy tells me every day of my life. I got home and the first thing my brother called me was fat, said all I did was "go round my freinds houses and eat junk food" then theres my mum constantly voicing her hopes that skating will 'tone me up'
And even thats not important in comparison to the other things that are getting me down today
AND I JUST DON'T CARE IF THIS ENTRY SOUNDS EMO
*screws up eyes*
My brother went out swimming today with my wretched father. I hate it when anyone spends any time with him. I hate it when joe and him go out with THEM just like it always use to be. it reeks of lessons never learnt. The bastard lost his familly over this and yet he still carries on seeing those kids and taking them out
-right i need strongbow-
ok now i can continue. So they went out swimming in colchester I assume becasue it doesnt sit right that they were in witham the whole time I was, and then i get home and he says all those hateful things to me
And then im writing my diary, and my eyes happen to slide over the page to yesterday, where I read about my worries over something someone has said. Wouldn't it worry you that people were talking about you behind your back, about something you thought you'd got over.
Imagine this thing ruled your fucking life, and it had been dictating the clothes you wore, and the way you thought people were always looking at you. Until gradually you managed to convince yourself that people were no longer staring, or that nobody had ever been bothered.
And then a year later you hear that someone has been looking, and you havent caught them looking, and you find they've been judging. And you wonder how many other pople have been looking and judging when you thought that there was nothing to see.
Jimmy defended me, I know he did, h told me so and I beleive him. I just detest the spineless wretches who whisper about me when I'm not around, and dont confront me about it.
Altough I say that, Lily in German confronted me about it. I remember that day. It began with "o0o0 *morbid fascination* what are those scars down your arm"
"nothing"
"o0o did you do them to yourself"
"they're old"
"oh well theres not much use doing them up there is there? ha ha!"
Oh, really, you want to see some that did some good then, bitch? Think that'd do some good, do you? Want to know what i went through before during and after? How I thought I was going to bleed out becasue it was so damn deep, how I had to keep the bandage on for weeks, and how the scars have never faded? Think that'd do you some good do you?
I should have said that. Instead I meekly told her to stop talking, and carried on working with my head down in fucking shame. And I thought I'd got over this.
-I think I'll need considerably more strongbow than I have- |
Loading...
