You know that lightheaded kind of dizziness you get when you’re holding your breath in some manner or another? My head has felt like that all day, even when I’m not singing. And no, I haven’t been holding my breath. And I haven’t even mentioned that I keep getting these minor but blinding head rushes whenever I stand up. It’s really bad going up stairs.

I felt like I was gonna pass out about 2 hours ago(’round 3:15 to 3:25 PM) because my throat tightened up and my chest started to hurt, and I couldn’t really inhale without it hurting. And then my head started to pound and I got really dizzy. I had to stop rocking and cough and take painfully deep breaths, and none of it really helped. And when I took those ridiculously deep breath, my lungs vibrated. Not rattled like pneumonia; like, vibrated like a phone. In the end, it just went away on its own.

Other than that sensation of lightheadedness, I keep getting these super hot flashes, and they just make me get dizzy. The headache’s been coming and going throughout the day. I haven’t eaten much today because I just haven’t been hungry, and it seems like the coffee I’ve been drinking has been doing the job by itself anyway.

Maybe I’m DYING. -_-

“I can’t wait until you guys are gone/out of here… *snap snarl growl*”

So, I’m sitting at the dinner table today, eating dinner with David and Ricky, and I’m bouncing my leg like I usually do. This really irritates David, but I don’t especially care because I’m just a bitch.

So, eventually, David says this;

“I don’t know if I should be sad or glad when you guys move.”

I am so mad right now, I could blow a fucking gasket. At the same time, I’m really upset. I mean, seriously, David? Since when are you as much of an asshole as Dad?

Fuck it. I won’t have to live with them anyway, and I am in no place to say anything anyway, because David’s not my son, and this isn’t my house. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed to all hell at Dad for making this worse than it already is. I really hate him. He should consider DYING.

I spoke with Derik last night. It was a good, fruitful conversation. I learned of several songs that I had never heard of, and I fell in love with a majority of them. It wasn’t until much later in the conversation that we started talking about more interesting topics, though I supposed that the change in language was partially my fault. He asked me why I was upset, because I had posted a status, perhaps, or maybe Devv had told him that I seemed “off”. Not sure, but he asked me what was wrong, and I told him in basic terms. My horrible living situation, my difficulty with school, and my nearly-clinical depression.

Of all the things he could’ve asked, the first thing he wanted to know about was school. He asked me why I was having trouble with it, and I told him that I thought it was the depression. I was having a hard time getting out of bed to go to school, and I had been having that trouble since I returned to my home school.

We talked about it for a little while, and I explained to him that it wasn’t like I didn’t like the people; no, I loved the people (except Mr. Hertzog, he’s an asshole). I had never liked the subjects of math and Social Studies, but I liked the teachers for the most part. So he asked me why it was so hard for me to go somewhere that I enjoyed being.

That was when it hit me, rather like a car into a brick wall. No, it wasn’t the people, or the subjects, or the lunch food.

It was more like the trauma.

You may or may not already know this, but when I was in elementary school, I was a problem child. I was rather dysfunctional in school, whether I was cranky or hyper. I was throwing hissy fits and swearing and screaming at teachers and students alike. I remembered suddenly that, when I had been in the 3rd grade, I had been sat next to a boy I hated; Cody. He picked on me. He didn’t ignore me or try to get me in trouble, so to speak, but he bullied me. He teased me. He made fun of me, and I would tell him to “shut his fucking mouth”, and I would get in trouble, no questions asked. That was when I threw my fits.

Other than that, I was more or less traumatized by those experiences. And I have gone and throw myself back into the place I’ve been cursing and hating my entire life. It’s no wonder I’m having so much trouble functioning in my classrooms. I suppose I still haven’t come to terms with my childhood. It’s probably the same with my father. Until I come to terms with what’s happened between us as a family, I won’t be able to let him go like my mom has.

See? I’m learning.

I hope it’ll be that easy.

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..

.

And the year has passed, a little too fast for my tastes. A lot of big things have happened to perhaps slightly change how my life feels on my tongue, but at the same time, very much of nothing has taken place to further sour the flavor.

I don’t remember the beginning of the year, to be perfectly honest. In fact, I hardly remember what took place more towards the end. My ability to recollect my thoughts is as terrible as ever. I think that New Years was the least stressful of the holidays so far; we were able to mostly keep our pleasantness intact. Mostly. I don’t know if that’s a sign for the future, or if that’s just how the fam is…

Whatever. Don’t matter now.

Jesus Christ, this is only the most impossible thing I’ve ever posted. I have no goddamn clue what to put here. Screw it.

It was a Battle of the Sexes, in which I was doing my best, and I mean best impersonation of a female chauvinist sow. Derek was defending the men while I was sullying their image.

I hate men. We know this. I’ve told everyone this many time. I have good reasons for hating men. Very good reasons. No names given, but 95% of the men in my life are total jerks or stuck-up pigs. And then there’s the fact that men are, in general stupid, or at least the 95% of the ones I know are.

I’m not trying to pick a fight, but I’m perfectly willing to fight anyway, if someone wants to.

So, anyway, Derek was telling me exactly what mom’s told me a few times. “Men don’t really know when they’re men, because they don’t have an obvious symbol. Women do. Women bleed.” And he also added his own bit “Men have had everything that they prided themselves in taken away from them.” He used the examples of hunting, fighting, ect. To which I said “I don’t really care. I’m going to get that coffee that I totally forgot about.”

We argued for a bit, he was very defensive because he’s biased against women and think we all suck, generally speaking. I was very much intent on defending my position, however, because all men are assholes and the world would be better off without them. Dad popped into the kitchen to tell me that “it wasn’t worth it”, to which I said, “I’m not fighting with him. Because unlike you, I’m not a spiteful jerk.” Half that sentence was a lie to him under my teeth, though.

My personal opinion, of course, is that men have been dominating society since their fucking creation, and they can do without the power for a few hundred years. It won’t kill them, like they seem the think. If they’d all stop being such pansies and go to fucking school, they wouldn’t have a problem staying up to bat. But no, you men are selfish idiots who seem to think that because of your testosterone, the world should come to you on a silver fucking platter.

Well, sorry, bitches, but that platter is heading for my table, and I’m going to eat it slowly with smirking evilly at you.

I’m sorry Derek, but I cannot feel sympathy for men, for the simple reason that it took us women for-fucking-ever to get out rights in the first fucking place. When America was first formed, women had nothing. We obeyed the orders of our spouses, and that was the end of it. You selfish bastards never gave us anything so we actually worked to get our rights. If you aren’t willing to work to get your stupid “manhood” back, then you don’t fucking deserve it at all.

You filthy pigs deserve a reality check, and if I have to be part of the generation that gives it to you, then so be it. I might even enjoy kicking your asses a little.

I should seriously consider getting rid of all my categories and just putting all my posts under “Stuff.” It’d make my blog and my life a little less messy. :/

It seems that, as I’m getting older, more people are expecting things of me. It’s stressful when someone asks you “what wrong?” and you absolutely cannot answer them, because you absolutely don’t know. Very stressful indeed, but it seems that everyone and their mother expects me to know what’s wrong even when it’s obvious that I don’t. I mean, think about it; if I knew what was wrong, wouldn’t I tell you? Well, maybe I wouldn’t tell you, but I would at least try to do something about it on my own, right? After all, I am 15 years old and have a mind of my own at this point. I know it wasn’t quite so obvious a couple of years ago, but me and my mind have been getting to know each other slowly. And when I say slowly, I really mean slowly.

Getting to know the mind of a mood disorder is hard. I’ve been hanging around her for all of my 15 years, and I still know very little. She’s secretive, and quiet, and doesn’t like to talk, so getting her to open up is proving to be the hardest thing I’ll ever do in all my life.

Now, you might be wondering what the point of this rambling is, but I’m not going to tell you yet. Patience is a virtue, and while I seem to be the only person who can apply patience to myself at a given moment in time, I will have to ask that you try to apply this same kind of self-control. At least try to refrain from hitting the little red ‘x’ on the tab.

I have a mood disorder. I’m pretty sure it’s Cyclothymia, but I don’t have an official diagnosis, so I’m labeled by the mental health professionals as an “Undiagnosed Mood Disorder.” It actually wouldn’t surprise me all that much if I had a Histrionic personality disorder, too. I mean, Tempestuous sounds like me, doesn’t it? Total nymphomaniac, yea, I fit the title.

But that’s off topic, isn’t it? I have a mood disorder, undiagnosed, unknown, untreated really, and apparently “uncontrollable.” But we all know that the fact that I “can’t control myself” is a load of crap, right? Especially that whole “you’re addicted to hurting yourself”. That’s utter bullshit, and I think everyone reading this knows that very well.

I don’t really care what you think the reason behind my self-injurious behavior is, but it’s definitely not an addiction. I have thought about it off and on for all the months since January, and every time I decided “Nah, I don’t wanna.”

Anyway, I guess this post is long enough by now, right? I’ll get straight to the point from here on out.

If you can’t handle my self-injurious behavior, my depression, my ADHD, my mood disorder, my emotional instability, and the fact that all of these come together to make KIMMIE 1.5, then go away and don’t talk to me anymore.

And if this post pissed you off, then maybe we really shouldn’t hang out/talk/be a part of each other any more. I’m getting to be sick and tired of having to be in a good mood to have friends. It’s rather miserable when your friends will only be your friends when you’re happy with the world. It’s tiring after a while, especially when they get pissed off at me for having issues with things like self-esteem and whatever the fuck else is wrong with me. Yes, I’m talking about you, Princess.

There’s only one more thing for me to say: don’t stick up for yourself in the comments, because I know better than to listen to the one who says they didn’t do it.