Today is the bar mitzvah.
I don't want to go!!
Shit.
Why do I even bother to come only to sit on the side, depressed and stuff, and mock others, bringing my "friends" down with me?
Like, it's stupid!
I'm going to sit there, like a moron.
And then wait few hours, like a moron, again, only to get out of this hell.
Surrounded by friends, foes, and targets for me.
Only to watch skinny and chubby bitches dance to the stupid -too- loud music, played by the worst djs in the world that are yelling towards kids, throwing at them shiny garbage (what are we? crows?), and waiting to get paid for bullshit.
Yeah.
Woohoo.
So much fun.
Can I just save my time and draw, and hear music, and excresise, and watch movies?
Maybe doing something worthy with my time.
Some stuff that will help me in the future.
Not like now, making me want to stab myself while gaining weight and...
Wait.
This is funny.
I already got "stabbed".
Or shot, depends how you'll see this injury.
For me it looks like a dark circle, with some sort of dark brown towards red color, surronded by bright pink, and bits of light coffee bean colored stains.
It's just piece of melted chocolate from my lower cal ice cream, and since it looks so real, I put some red edible color.
CRAP!
MY MACAROONS!
....
Well, it's now seven.
At seven thirty I'll be already on the bus.
Going to leave to some sort of a hell, filled with the most annoying, filthy, disgusting, blood-sucking, creatures, the worst kind that the world ever saw, those creatures named children, and I'm going to pretend that I'm enjoying in their overly crowded religous ritual party, a silly celebration of another cycle around the sun.
The thirteenth cycle.
By the way thirteen, I just plucked out my thirteenth tooth!
It was a super large bottom.
Bottom ones are easier to pluck out.
And apperantley I had a hole in it, damaged tooth.
I guess that because they are so thich and big, no dentist could see it.
Well, now I have a rectangle of bloody flesh tissue.
I hate it.
It just covers my growing one.
I'm a fucking carnivore, don't disturb my meat eating.
It's so easy to see with me that I was made to eat very soft or very stiff foods.
Tomatoes and apples, fried egg whites and red meat.
Yes.
I stopped eating chicken breast.
I'm not going vegeterain.
And not vegan.
Not yet.
Though I drink almond milk, but that's only because it tastes better, and with lower calories.
So, after thirteen minutes of cleaning all the blood and spitting it out (the second time today), I'm blogging while time runs out.
I DON'T WANT THIS TO HAPPEN.
The clock is ticking, and soon I'll be out, thrown to the cage called "club" filled with hungy flesh eating monsters named "preteens", ugh, the revolting sound of ear shattering music is just not worth my time.
Yet I'm wearing size 0 (couldn't find my 00) black leggings and lion shirt, accessorised with my always on bracelets, my rainbow helix, and my smile with two missing teeth.
Why am I the one that will look like fourteen when putting on my "I'm bored/depressed/just kill me already" face, twelve when standing among my classmates, and nine when I smile?!
I don't want to go!!
Shit.
Why do I even bother to come only to sit on the side, depressed and stuff, and mock others, bringing my "friends" down with me?
Like, it's stupid!
I'm going to sit there, like a moron.
And then wait few hours, like a moron, again, only to get out of this hell.
Surrounded by friends, foes, and targets for me.
Only to watch skinny and chubby bitches dance to the stupid -too- loud music, played by the worst djs in the world that are yelling towards kids, throwing at them shiny garbage (what are we? crows?), and waiting to get paid for bullshit.
Yeah.
Woohoo.
So much fun.
Can I just save my time and draw, and hear music, and excresise, and watch movies?
Maybe doing something worthy with my time.
Some stuff that will help me in the future.
Not like now, making me want to stab myself while gaining weight and...
Wait.
This is funny.
I already got "stabbed".
Or shot, depends how you'll see this injury.
For me it looks like a dark circle, with some sort of dark brown towards red color, surronded by bright pink, and bits of light coffee bean colored stains.
It's just piece of melted chocolate from my lower cal ice cream, and since it looks so real, I put some red edible color.
CRAP!
MY MACAROONS!
....
Well, it's now seven.
At seven thirty I'll be already on the bus.
Going to leave to some sort of a hell, filled with the most annoying, filthy, disgusting, blood-sucking, creatures, the worst kind that the world ever saw, those creatures named children, and I'm going to pretend that I'm enjoying in their overly crowded religous ritual party, a silly celebration of another cycle around the sun.
The thirteenth cycle.
By the way thirteen, I just plucked out my thirteenth tooth!
It was a super large bottom.
Bottom ones are easier to pluck out.
And apperantley I had a hole in it, damaged tooth.
I guess that because they are so thich and big, no dentist could see it.
Well, now I have a rectangle of bloody flesh tissue.
I hate it.
It just covers my growing one.
I'm a fucking carnivore, don't disturb my meat eating.
It's so easy to see with me that I was made to eat very soft or very stiff foods.
Tomatoes and apples, fried egg whites and red meat.
Yes.
I stopped eating chicken breast.
I'm not going vegeterain.
And not vegan.
Not yet.
Though I drink almond milk, but that's only because it tastes better, and with lower calories.
So, after thirteen minutes of cleaning all the blood and spitting it out (the second time today), I'm blogging while time runs out.
I DON'T WANT THIS TO HAPPEN.
The clock is ticking, and soon I'll be out, thrown to the cage called "club" filled with hungy flesh eating monsters named "preteens", ugh, the revolting sound of ear shattering music is just not worth my time.
Yet I'm wearing size 0 (couldn't find my 00) black leggings and lion shirt, accessorised with my always on bracelets, my rainbow helix, and my smile with two missing teeth.
Why am I the one that will look like fourteen when putting on my "I'm bored/depressed/just kill me already" face, twelve when standing among my classmates, and nine when I smile?!
....
Crap.
Nope.
Why.
Fuck.
I can feel it!
It's taking over me.
The urge of addiction.
The pressure in my chest.
Trying to realese some of the adrenaline to my body.
I have two addictions.
Both can kill me.
In the bar table there's food.
I don't like it much, so it's not a binge starter for me.
Not even a danger food because it tastes like shit.
Okay.
It's not.
Since when they are serving pasta and meat balls?!
But my disorder doesn't care.
I'm a slave of bed.
I miss being slave is Sasha.
Self harm nickname.
I just don't like cat.
Not awful enough for me.
Not heroic enough for me.
A name of a life saver, a name of a savior.
Something special.
Not depressing, not making people suspicious.
Perfect.
So what's the another addiction?
There's a huge sharp massive knife in here.
Enough said.
I should've been like last year.
Bringing a razor with me everywhere.
I really want to buy a shaving razor and break it, those large once, with the weird hole in the middle.
...
This is annoying.
Very very very annoying.
Why can't I just read "imagine" sort of shit without being bothered by my own fucking name?!
Since so many people think it's impossible to pronounce "dvash", I just use "honey" on English, so since I read se sort of self harm imagines (I have no idea how going from how to hide cuts and just have them in places you can't see, to Calum and Luke and Michael), it's really annoying to read "You are not a bother, (Y/N). You're my girlfriend..." y/n is your name.
This is not fair.
Why can't I be something simple?!
...
You have no idea how nervous I was two seconds ago.
The boy who told my teacher and parents about my self harm (Ido), just passed behind me.
I was on my pro ana.
On self harm discussions.
If somebody sees it....
I don't even want to think about it.
I'm not in the mood for anixety.
Okay, he's away.
I'm good.
...
Umm...
What does make you think that those little kids will even know the name of the song?
There are pretty much only two or three more children that know it's a song of nirvana.
They don't even care.
Just put them the ultimately depressing diamonds and leave them alone.
And stop with the smoke.
As long as it's not marijuana, don't put it.
Who the fun told you to put that song?!
I knew the voice was familiar and it's a girl and it made me cry and cut few times (another cc combination?! I need to kill a few, don't tell people it was me that killed all the cc and left the cg and the gg people), it's the fucking Lana Del Ray.
Summertime sadness.
As far as I know her sister killed herself, and the song is named summertime sadness, and people actually wonder why I'm depressed?!
Whose Andy1?
Actually.
I don't want to know.
Please please please tell me it's some guy from the casting if the movie Yuval wants to be in!
Please tell me he's in.
Please.
My wishes are weird.
But I want the best for somebody who actually cared.
It's eleven, I'm in the bus.
Gal asked me if he can sit next with me.
I said yes.
Though there are plenty of avilable chairs.
It's kind of nice.
I'm freezing.
And the only warmth it's my hoodie, my phone, and the weirdly nice and warm air.
It's nicer like this.
More comfortable.
And he's tall, and nice.
It's like having a guardian angel to protect you from evil forces.
Way better than Ashton and Calum and Luke and Micheal all together.
Like Patch.
Just on he's less shitty "I'm a guardian angel and I fell in love with you so I didnt sacrifice you, be mine" mood and more like "Norra I'm so sorry".
We just slumped to Yotam.
So still, if you're in his area, say hello from me.
And it's up to you to share my story.
To him.
Or at all.
You can always say you know a girl that used to be humiliated, from a hell to another, found some sort of god, lost it, self harmed, all over again.
She'll never be recovered.
And like in Scottish Ballads.
It's probably going to be with a tragic end.
I want to eat a human.
Like, if you're not using even it's skin, it's a waste.
...
Rude of you.
I know he looks strong.
But you will never believe how good he is.
Good in the current ethic view.
...
Sometimes I wonder how should I kill myself.
I don't even feel suicidal.
But I just wonder.
Maybe stock of pills that will make my organs fail and I'll die in middle of school.
Maybe self harm and a while later people will find my dead body somewhere.
Maybe in the shower, seemed like I drowned, but I just drank enough of hair oils and peeling and shampoo.
Or maybe glued up, my mouth and throat and nose trills, and of course my hands in some Egyptian position.
What will I wear? When it will happen? Where will it be?
So many questions.
And endless amount of answers.
...
What the fuck is wrong with you?!
This fucking club workers with their stupid depressing music, high bpm, abusing smoke machines, and the loudness, it made my stomach hurt.
It fucking clogged me.
You have no idea what kind of pain I suffered in the toilet.
Murder the people who did that.
An the photographers.
I look ugly as fuck.
Don't remind me it.
...
Oh no, oh shit.
It's taking over me.
The urge to do something reckless.
Right near me there's something sharp, few meters away there's food.
I can smell the chocolate ice cream and see the blood comes out.
I'm going to do it.
No I won't.
Yes I will.
No I'll regret it.
No you'll not regret it, it will heal by summer.
But when I'll start it, I'll want it deep!
Exactly my dear.
...
Pathetic.
Not even a single real cut.
Where are my real razors when need them?!
The stupid tape holder is not working.
I need a fucking shaving razor, that will be sharpened by me.
I'll find a way.
I think that one day I'll find myself with a candle in my room, holding two small razors together to melt and reconnect to create larger one.
Building a weapon.
It will be something I'd like to do.
Berries, survivors,
I hope you'll make it.
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