My Krazy Kandies

You Don’t Care About My Opinion, But…

I fucking hate my family. They don’t understand me at all. It kinda hurts my feelings when they assume that I can just “solve my problems” in the blink of a fucking eye. I mean, seriously? I have a learning disability and a mood disorder. I’ve been mind-raped by everyone I fucking know. My life is a mess of disorder and agony, and I believe everything about myself that I jokingly tell you. Do you understand that? When I say, “I’m such a moron,” I FUCKING MEAN IT. I AM A FUCKING MORON! You know how I know this? Well, you lot are always FUCKING TELLING ME SO.

I’m THE MOST screwed up kid I know, in ways I can’t even tell or describe. How the hell do you expect me to be able to get up every morning with a big fucking smile on my face and say, “Gee, I’m gonna have a great day today,” When I can barely get myself to open my FUCKING EYES.

Every time I start basically screaming at the top of my lungs for some help in my figurative language, I get called a whiny bitch and told that I should stop moaning and maybe do something about it. What the fuck do I do? I don’t know what there is to be done! I don’t know why I’m depressed, why I can’t get myself to stop being depressed… I can’t even always tell you why I haven’t fucking killed myself yet!

It’s clear to me that nobody gets this, but you know, it really SUCKS when nobody can understand that it just hurts.

I’m so sick of living. I’m sick of people, and school, and not being able to sleep, and not wanting to eat, and not being able to function… I’m sick of being awake, and I’m sick of sleeping. I’m going to fucking DIE if I keep treating myself like this, but at this stage in the game I so totally don’t give a shit that I can’t even describe it to you.

I’m tired of this whole “living” bullshit..

The Worst Person In The Whole World

It has to be me.

So, I send David an email a little while ago, telling him that I was cutting off all ties because I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than I knew I already had.

I deserve to die. And don’t even TRY to tell me otherwise, because we all know its true at this point. No, actually, you lot of idiots should’ve realized that I deserved to die when I was about six or seven.

I think I’m going to skip school for about a week.

Labyrinth

Oh my God, somebody help me!
It’s 3:14 in the afternoon, and all I can think about it sleep. I walk through the labyrinth, hoping that maybe I’ll be able to find the place where they keep the food. It’s been months, weeks, years, since I’ve been nourished like a human being. Forever since I’ve had contact with the outside world. An eternity since I’ve been alive.
My body is thin and fragile, and my heart is always is always beating faster that normal. It consistently feels like I’m going to have a heart attack. I don’t know why I’m here, or what I did that would make anyone hate me so much, but I’m tired of trying to escape.
At this point, I just wander, hoping that maybe I’ll find a morsel of something to eat, or maybe a rock that I can sharp to perfection for suicide. It’s scary though, because not only am I in a labyrinth, but I can’t talk, and I can’t see very well. The world around me is dark and blurry, and my voice refuses to make a sound. I can’t even cry properly anymore.
I’m tired. I’m really tired, and I don’t know when this nightmare will ever end.
I hear something. A door opening? As I look up, my vision is cleared, and a beautiful angel is floating towards me, extended a hand. I reach up to grasp it, praying that this is the end.
Her chest explodes with a spray of blood, and she screams in agony as she falls to the ground. Within seconds, she is dead. A window opened, and then slammed down on my hands.
I wish they would let me wake up.
Is this even a nightmare?

Darkest of the Scrap Metal in my Head, Probably

Something’s seriously wrong, but I don’t knnow what it is. I feel like I’m about ready to come apart at the seams. Not sure why, not even close, but I do have the feeling. That weird scratchy feeling that runs up and down my legs, and sometimes across my wrists and forearm. Still not sure, but since everyone wants to try and figure it out, I suppose I might as well led you a hand with what little I know about what goes on in my own head.

First of all, while this is fairly irrelvant, or so you may think, every summer, i fall to pieces. You know this, I know this, I’m pretty sure we all know this. I had a nervous breakdown loast year, slit up my wrists the y ear before… I kinda wonder what stupid stunt I’m going to pull this time. Maybe I’ll run away from home for a couple of nights. Probably not, but hey, its out there. It’s an option that will get me in trouble, like I seem to want so badly.

Now, yes, I know that was kind of beside the point, but its something to think about. What was the same those last two years, and what’s the same this year? I don’t know myself, because my memory of my past is actually fairly poor, so you’ll have to talk amongst yourselves to figure out if that’s the case.

Lets see… what else is there that I can see in this abyss of my mind? I see an anxiety, oh yes, a bad one. A terrified little girl crying as she is curled up in a ball, praying to whoever will listen that something can be done to fix her messed up life, make everything the way its supposed to be, and maybe even save her family from separation. That’s all IÂ want right now; I don’t care about the job, I don’t care about the money. I just want to be friends with everyone in my family, and not just Gina and Mama. YOu boys in this house might think that I hate the lot of you, which I don’t, but you’re not really trying to make yourselves a little different so that you won’t irritate me so easily. You should know by now why I snap at you all the tiome, so why can’t you fix yourselves and try to be more cautious around me, instead of being the ignorant fools that I loathe.

That, in more basic words, is me saying ‘lets fix this together, and become a family again, okay?’ And while I know the chances of you listening to what I have to say are slim, I still have to hope. After all, if I don’t, who will?

What else is there that has my head in a bundle of scrap metal? Well, I’m not quite sure, honestly. It’s gotten pretty dark in here. Its kind of lonely.

I don’t know if this is a burn-out, or if its something that’s serious. I guess I’ll just have to wait and find out. I’ve done my bit in trying to figure out what I can. At this point, my brain seems to be shutting itself down. Until next time….

~Kimmie, sort of.

Anywhere But Home

I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go somewhere far away for a while. It’s not because I hate you; I just want to get away from life for a little while. I’m tired, and I can’t rest when I’m at home. I’m not comfortable at home anymore… It’s kind of sad. I’m tense, and I’m tired, and I want to go away somewhere. If you can arrange it, great. If you can’t, then I’ll just hole up in my room for a week.

I miss David… He can help me feel better. He always does… I feel like I’m going crazy. I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t think I’ve been this confused in a long time.

I’m sinking into the darkness again. I wonder when I’ll come back out this time. Maybe I’ll recieve another violent shock and find myself again. Maybe I’ll get myself into the pysch ward before I realize what I’m doing. Jeez, I sound like I’m losing it.

Maybe I am losing it…

This place that I call home isn’t relly home anymore. Its just the place that I livem, now. I can’t call it home. home is aplace where you feel safe from the world. I don’t feel safe at home, and I don’t know why. I feel like a timebomb, and I don’t know what’s going to explode.

I don’t want to be at home anymore. I want to be elsewhere, but not at Natalie’s house. Do you get my hint yet?

Yea, I wanna see David. I need him now, very much so.

I wanna cry, but I don’t have a shoulder to lean on at this point. The last thing anyone needs is me pushing my needy behavior on them. Everyone’s trying to fix something, and me falling to pieces isn’t going to help…

Tired… I’m really tired of fighting a losing battle. I need to recuperate.