Who is a...

So, Friday morning, sitting early [and miserably attempting to wake up even earlier each time] on the couch, and writing to you.
I don't really know what to do guys, I guess I'll try.

So, I was hospitalised as you know, for eight days, which is remarkably short.
The psychologist thought about holding me there for at least three months [!].
I found there two ways for suicide, the obvious shoelaces [which, I was surprised that they weren't taken away!], and the rare and unconventional one, overdosing on baking soda, using the toothpaste they gave us. [I really wanted to read something and I found out that if you swallow or overuse you should go to the poison control centre, so, yeah!]
I was going to use the laces and making a noose and basically just deciding that my life have stopped their beautiful flowing, and now a shitty person got a shitty-ish life and that person can't handle it.

On the first day, which was Tuesday evening-night, I was crying when they told me that I was going to stay there.
But it was nothing like the cries I usually cry, that one was pure agony, and oh, I'm never going there again, I shall never lay another damn foot in that evil and horrific place.

I was welcomed by a nice girl named Mai, she told me that it's going to be alright and she told me what to expect.
Then, I walked into my room, I saw a couple of girls.
Eden, who came in the same day that I came, but just a couple of hours earlier, 13, came in because of suicidal thoughts that she has because of her depression, she has an odd pop-and-some-other-things music style, she plays Minecraft and her main social network is Twitter, she doesn't have friends at home, but she has friends from England, South Africa, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait,
Meital, an odd girl who I barely talked to. [I don't know or really care why.]
Emily, or as I [over-]enjoy to call her, Emily-with-a-y [reading about a really good artist's book about asylums is not necessarily a good idea] is epic, ginger, odd, got there by attempting suicide, not her first hospitalisation, basically, awesomeness that from some reason, isn't a huge thing on tumblr.
Inbar, the fucking awesome ex-anorectic-who-still-goes-by-her-old-behaviour, a huge fan of poetry and enjoys writing some, have a kick-ass body [that she -sadly- hates, I find it gorgeous], an interesting taste in music [Rage Against the Machine], and probably the one you would never regret meeting.


On the two days to follow, I was crying on and off, getting in-and-out of panic attacks, which have drastically reduced after a girl named Hana taught me how to do breathing exercises.
And after they put me back in my room and out of the unit [a room with 24/7 supervision, a bit freaky] Emily gave me that really good inspirational speech, and I felt good enough to start reading a book.
I read Paper Towns, by John Green, and dear, it is brilliant,

From that moment and on I was good.
On the weekend, it was a bit strange.
We wear with a girl named Nur [pronounced noor] who came for the weekend, and Oriel, who got hospitalised for his fourth time because of a false-report.

I was a highly-functioning lady [yes, I do take pleasure in calling myself a "lady"] there.
Meaning, I was juggling between reading a beautiful book, to putting together the skies in the puzzle [basically, same colour in everything], to listening carefully to others, to playing chess, to learning how to play Dragons and Dungeons, reading the news [or as I call it, the only remaining piece of outer-world], to solving crosswords and riddles, basically being that odd girl who is a...


night. 

Home.

I'm at home, of course.
I was at home yesterday as well, but I just couldn't write properly, and I'm sorry about that.
The week I went through was hell [basically two days of severe panic attacks, lack of appetite, crying all the time.] But the hell that I'd go through seems just as bad.


I'm sorry, I can't post when I have zero privacy or comfort.
I fucking miss porn.
I missed you too, and I missed plenty of other things [like showering alone, or sleeping in my bed.] but I really need some pleasure, and it has to be that specific pleasure of the body.
I am listening to "Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me the Horizon, and I thought about one thing, today, at Ram [how exciting!] Tal [G] told us to do something, to just feel our pulse and try to focus on it, usually you feel your whole body, feeling your heart beating and then a wave of the blood through your body.
It didn't happen to me today, but it happened before.
I used to just feel my body vibrating along to my heartbeat, it feels interesting.

You know, I miss the easiness of harming myself, it's like being at some nice sphere of safety where I can properly damage that one who have hurt so many.

I'm still there.

I will not post regularly [obviously] but I will say serval things. 

Emily-with-a-Y is awesome. 

Eden is cool and somehow my "sister".

Inbar is going to be a great poet. 

I suffer here. 

I wish you well. 

Paper Towns is a great book. 

Forget everything. I'm hospitalised.

Forget everything. I'm hospitalised. 

Wrists. Again.

My extremities are numb again.
It's fucking painful, I wear now gloves, sadly they are loose and fingerless because that's the only type we got in home.
They are also black and I'm not sure if I'd wear them at school, I get enough from wearing my blacks.
Oh-oh-oh! I can always say that it's my way to get more connected to religion, whether it's Islam or Judaism. [Yes, we do have some that dress up like fucking Talibans!]
Anyway, I was happier than expected, seriously, amazing.
Nothing matters any more!
I'll probably decide one time to "fuck it" and cut exactly where I spotted
Which can be almost hidden by these gloves!
Oh, perfect!

Here's the photo.
I'd rather cut on the artery without the nerve, because then I'd need some major explanation, I don't have the power for explaining, I don't have the power to skip so many things.
And it would be pretty easy to hide, I got my elastic bandages, and like every other legitimate child that belongs to the sports class, and I'd be able to continue the joke that some of my friends and I don't belong there because we're not physically damaged or with a history of severe illnesses, broken bones, or everything else they'd like.
I wonder if they'll ask me to take off the bandage at the health-check we're having next week or next two weeks?
Probably not, I'd tell them I'm pretty sensitive there and hope for no problems.
Unless I'd fall on a smart-ass that decides that I have bandaged it all-wrong.
Probably not.

Oh, today I went to New-Pharm after school, looking for painkillers or sleeping aiders or blood-thinners, couldn't find any.
I bought instead something really cool and pretty cheap, alcohol prep pad, pretty good price, hundred units for twenty six nis.
I also got cheaper and bigger tape, cloth tape, of Nexcare. Nine meters for 30 NIS is quite good, and I'd probably cut it in a half anyway, creating eighteen meters.

My family isn't home, I'm probably going to get a shower and cleanse everything, or maybe not.

I took a shower, I repainted the places, I mostly do it to know exactly what I'm doing
Gladly, even at school they didn't learn exactly what the fuck is everything, we learned more about the skin cell [mostly epidermis] than the dermis and arteries and tendons and all of the shit that I study now, for self-aid.
I actually do plenty of things for aiding myself.
I'm selfish by doing it, but it helps me and others at need.

Fuck my feet are cold, but I'm too lazy to stretch my arm to open the sock drawer.

Okay, that radical-lefty over here "269" has that idea that many has.
Two countries for two nations.
Don't you understand how small Israel is?
Don't you understand that it won't lead to peace?
Peace won't happen when both sides are still angry, when the Palestinian is still willing to get the second country [it's what they want to do, so why would they ever stop?]
We can't just part people like this!
I'm just glad I live in such place where crazy pills are already in our water sources.

I'm alone again, for about an hour.
I would like to cut now, but I'm afraid that I'd fail myself ["You're such a failure... You can't even cut yourself, an impostor, poseur, failure, it was better if you were dead."] and I'll just be covered in blood and still disappointed... You know, as usual.


Okay, since I'm alone, I cleaned a patch on my wrist, using make-up remover, now I've cleaned with my alcohol pads.
It reminded me of the awful injections when I was younger.
I didn't agree to do them unless my father was with me, holding me tight.
I'm quite afraid to cut now, simply because of that it reminds me of the tetanus shot that's expiring soon, and I'm getting a new one this year,

I got about forty minutes.
Wow, I'm being weird now.
I want to cut, because I finally can, because nothing matters! Finally nothing matters.
But at the same time I'm happy, too happy.
Fuck, why did I do it? Why did I said out-loud that I'm happy?! Now that I said it, I start to worry, "You're happy now, but it's just now, the downfall later is going to crush you!" I really hate it.
I just can't be simply happy unless I'm faking it, which is usually by adrenaline.
I fucking hate it.
I also get really anxious lately.
If I do something, even the smallest, I start to get hot and blush and I just over-think and I have to remove a layer because it's that bad, I'm nothing but this panic that attacks me without warning.
It happened me today at first in Arabic, I struggled reading a sentence, instantly I got all overheated, like an over-worked laptop.

I feel crazy.
I just assume I'm going to just force myself to carry on.
I really hope that when I'd cut my wrist, one time somebody would put me in a place that's good for me.
I can't even ask for help, if I'd tell Keren she'll be forced by the law to tell my parents, and then, once again, I'm blocked.
I want to go and end myself.
I have no other solution, now do I?
The over privileged tween is  suicidal, oh, how pathetic!
I can't stand myself.

I don't know if I should tell Keren... I mean, what's the worst thing that can happen? Let's think....
A meteor, hurting everyone but me, making me suffer from all kinds of things, a strong thing named "survivors guilt".
I would like to ditch.
I don't want to go to school tomorrow, I want to relax, and not feel anxiety or these awful "You're such a fraud, I hate you, I wish you were dead already, stop quickening your breath and pretending! It's nothing but a show you put up!  whoa! Adrenaline!"

My feet are numb, and the only reason that my hands aren't is because I type.
My feet aren't numb now, they are dancing on the verge of pain and numbness.
This pain isn't even logical, oh! Wow! It's now hot!
My left foot suddenly was filled with warmness, I guess it's blood.

I feel like I'm going insane.
Nothing matters and I'm not sure if I feel good about it.

I'm all anxiety and adrenaline.
That's what I am.


Oh, wait.
I'm anxiety, adrenaline, and everything is still psychosomatic, now I got it right.


I feel hollow.
Oh well, I'm probably going to find relief soon, and enjoy a bleeding beauty.


My, oh my, this night is going to be delightful!
The razor near me, I sterilised it and sterilised my area I want to cut, all I need is courage.
I'm having that heat-flashes and I'm a bit shaky.
I don't know if I can do it.
To cut my wrist again.
To cut there.
The sweet spot.
Seems so wrong, feels so wrong, but why do I want it.
I know I can, but I'm afraid.
What if I'd die? [so unlikely but who knows?]
What if I'd get into shock?
What if I won't wake up properly in the morning and my mother would notice?
What if everything would go wrong?

I shall not chicken!
This is my time!
GO, NOW.
I'm going first on thighs.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.
WHAT AM I DOING?

I don't have the courage.
I feel like I need to die.


Fuck, it's fucking exhausting.


I lightly brushed the razor on my wrist, just to be ready.
I did again on the back of my hand, slightly angeled, not as brushy, it drew blood.
I have now a small adhesive banage on it.
Should I do it?
More importantly?
Could I do it?
Ten minutes.
Let's go!
Let's do it!

I didn't do it yet.
But I want to laugh.
I guess it's the anxiety!

Another one on the back of my hand, slightly deeper, bleeds a lot more, licked off, tastes like nothing, bandaged.

I feel crazy.
I got four minutes!
Three.
I feel nauseous.
I feel more strong than before, like I can do it, but I stop, I don't want it to spurt and be weird.
Oh fuck, I can't do it deep enough anyway.
Two minutes.
Corn blades!
I've cut small and barely deep.
Should I do it again?


Okay, my mum came in, I hid the wrist.
After it I cut three more times, same depth, I put a gauze or two, and now I got an elastic over it.


Good night.

I'm going to go on.
I won't fight against myself, I'm going to skip and hop hand in hand with my criticising self towards the sunset.

I'm not "X" enough to be actually X.

Oh my, what the hell with people today?
I saw a question, asking if there are websites in Hebrew of Sleeping With Sirens.
If you don't know any bit of English, why are you listening to bands in English? What the hell is wrong with you?!
That's what every legit person would call a "poser", your friends will still accept you even if you listen to the freaking European Philharmonic Orchestra!
It annoys me more than people who ask things in Hebrew for interviews.
Dude, fuck off, I understand that the accent can be a bit weird and then it would be legitimate to look for a one with English subtitles, but come on!
You have to get used to it!
I, at first, had no clue what the hell did they want from me, it always sounded a bit muffled and the accent made me to miss huge parts, now? Easy-peasy,

I feel like I did very wrong when I told my mother that I want to talk to her.
And yet, there's a bit of me whispering to me that I did well, that I do need to get better, that I should do something about it.
But again, I'll just be even more helpless, what should I talk to her about? Should I tell her about my scale? Because I really think I left it behind, but what if I'd go back to this way and would want to check my scale?
Should I give her some of my razors? Some of my bandages? Because I don't want to give her everything but I also don't want her to suspect I have my tools around so she'd take everything.
Should I tell her that I really want to go and just kill myself? Planning and reading and researching? Deciding that pain killers or sleeping pills, combined with cutting my wrist deeply and falling asleep would probably be rather a peacful death than just hanging myself or anything else.
It would be peaceful, silent, a perfect nothingness.

But why should I tell her that I want to kill myself even though I have no intention of really doing so, the damage I'd inflict on this family... No, I can't do it to them!


I don't even feel real.
I think that's the worst thing.
That I don't feel real.
Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped behind a glass and all I do is watch somebody different than me, taking control of my body.
I just feel fake all the time and sometimes it's so much that I don't know even if I'm real.
Am I just a mask?
I'm not even sure who am I? The what-so-ever normal girl I am near people, or the one who is just a bit-dead-inside one?
Another thing that adds up to it, is the fact that I'm not even there, I'm not enough.
I'm not "depressed" enough to be actually depressed.
I'm not "sad" enough to be actually sad.
I'm not feeling "unreal" enough to be derealisated.
I'm not "joyful" and "happy" enough to actually be happy and joyful.
I'm not feeling "dead" enough to be dead.
I'm not feeling "alive" enough to be alive either.
I'm not enough "hardcore" with my "suicidal thoughts" to be suicidal.
I'm just not.

I'm nothing.


I just wish that my mother would magically forget that.
I don't want to give up on self harm.
I don't think I'm ready.
Hell, the truth is that I'll never be ready but I just don't want to buy again everything, it's expensive as fuck.


Oh, it's on.
I'm probably going to enjoy tomorrow buying myself some off-the-counter lovely things, and fucking end it.
She can't help me, she doesn't understand, I told her I want to kill myself, and she brushed it off as puberty.
I KNOW IT'S THAT DAMN PUBERTY, BUT WHAT TO DO, MOTHER, WHEN ALL I WANT TO DO IS TO FUCKING END IT.
To hell with it, I assume that I'm going to cut properly today and end my suffering.
It doesn't matter anyway.

I want to end it.
It wouldn't hurt her anyway.
My sister doesn't have to know.
Same with my brother.
My father would just... I guess live with it.
I just can't do it anymore.
And I can't stop with crying now.

I guess that realising that she doesn't care about me that much is too much for me.

I need to end it.
I'm going to shower and go into a wonderful night.
I'd probably won't have to write a note, you don't die that easily from blood loss, especially when you don't have some other blood-related issues.

I have returned from showering, I cleaned my wrists and thighs, firmly enough to make it appear slightly red.
Then I proceeded to clean my left wrist and thighs with alcohol.
I don't want to die, but it seems like it's the only option left for me.
Maybe tomorrow, I'd ditch, I'd call to someone, maybe get some help, maybe go to the school's counsellor and hope for the best.
I don't want to go on this way.
I'd end up suffering immensely.

I still hate myself for not having actual issues.
I'm angry about it, but I'm so passive about it, that it's just odd.
I degrade myself from a person to a "pathetic attention whore that needs a wake-up call because she got it going on all the fucking time" because of it.
I was born superficial and I'll die superficial.

I'm wearing a white shirt and burgundy-red knee-length baggy trousers.
It's the most pure thing I can allow myself to wear.

I just want to fall asleep, I'm tired.
Very tired.
But I need to cut.
Ease the pain.

I'm on my beanbag, if I'd fall asleep I want you to know that I love you.
If I'm going to bed and cut like I should, I want you to know that I love you as well.
Not the dumb "I love you" shit that people never really mean to say, but I love you for the fact that you were here for so long, all the time, I greatly appreciate it.

I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way through this blog, but I won't apologise for my actions, I am who I am.

I drag behind.

A post I wrote the entire day just vanished.
Oh well, I'll just sum it up shortly in one paragraph.

Tomorrow there's school; I dread it and I want to cry and cut.
My mother asks me if I'm okay; I lie because I don't want to disappoint her or worry my father.
I have no reason to cut; I want to cut again.
My life is  perfect, and basically everything right now is perfect; I want to die.
I want to die; I can't allow myself to cause them pain.
I want to get better; I'm afraid to talk about it.
I want to tell my mother now that nothing has been okay; I don't want her to not sleep well.
I want to tell my mother tomorrow morning that nothing has been okay; I don't want her to think I'm playing around to avoid school.
I want my mother to see my healing wounds and see that I need help; I don't want her to force this help on me.
I want to get rid of Keren who just made everything worse and I only taught myself that nobody would care for me so I need to take care of myself at the time; I don't want to get back to the psychiatrist who have had enough from the emo scene of 2008.

I'm sorry that it's so short, but this is what you get.

I'm sorry.
I don't know if I'd be able to pull through.

Hannah Bond?

You know, I really hate being yelled on and called a snob or that I raise my nose, I know it's not true and therefore it doesn't hurt me, even not with logic.
I'm so angry right now, fuck.
I hate being angry, I just end up hurting someone or something.
I'm tired of my parents' bullshit, WE ALL KNOW THAT LIFE360 IS NOT ACCURATE!
I want to hurt someone.
I hate being so fucking angry, I need to make it go away, I can't even do the breathing part when I'm not breathing.
I don't know why I do it, but I hold my breath sometimes, it's weird.

I want to cut again, but I won't, I don't find the reason behind it worthy enough.

I need to go soon to the Cabaria and aid at the renovation, but I feel really anxious and I might ditch.
I know, I know, pathetic! A disgrace for the whole place! I better feel ashamed, thinking about doing so, it degrades the quality of the Taghashish members!

Fuck.
I did it.
I can't believe it.
I feel pathetic.
Horrible.
I'm such a horrible person.
I should have went there, and not text this horrifying thing!

Once again, this blogger disappoints the people around her and chickens out.

Fuck, the healing wounds are painful.
Not as bad as when they were fresh and still bleeding, but painful enough to mention.

I need to stop being such a wussy and make up my mind.



Okay, it's already twelve twenty two, and I can't find others that feel anxious with people and dreads school because of it, and without an un/diagnosed social anxiety disorder.
I clearly don't have Social Anxiety Disorder,
I'm just going to somehow go through it.


Okay, I usually think that it's disrespectful to laugh about the deceased, espacially when they committed suicide.
But I just can't figure out what the hell was going on with the whole thing about Hannah Bond.


This thing is probably the greatest thing I've ever seen!

"She had secretly chatted to “emo” followers online all over the world, talking about death and the glamorisation of hanging and speaking about “the black parade” - a place where “emos” believe they go after they die."

I just fucking love certain people.
Can't they just use fucking logical [chuckles] things? Like your Christian hell? Or maybe that funny Jewish thing named Kaf Hakela? [Matkot when the ball is basically your soul, being thrown over and over, without resting, considered to be worse then hell, alike Limbo]
I was so interested that I just had to go on,

There are two articles, one in a website I know from previous times, including Emos as well, but this one is what I quoted and what I'm going to quote now too.

"She had even scratched her wrists in a form of self-harm ..."

That's fucking degrading.
The other one said wrist-cutting and the other is wrist-scratching.
Scratching is always degraded in my opinion, I addressed my scratches as "a pathetic and miserable attempt for actually cutting and hurting yourself like you deserve".
Now I do consider myself as a cutter, and I'm still trying to understand what the fuck did I cut, all I know that I did cut through the first layer and I cut the dermis, and sometimes it does cut through the dermis a bit and it looks weird. the fatty tissue, and it's uneven and weird so I get some places where it's yellowish and weird and some places where it's not.

I really like this computer, it's fucking amazing, I mean sure, too bad that there is no touch screen [helps when I want to draw without the tablet] and it's not Windows 8, but it's fucking great, I have a disc or CD or DVD [I have no fucking clue], it's big and nice.

Back to Hannah, they talk quite a lot about My Chemical Romance...
FUCK IT EXPLAINS SO FUCKING MUCH.
I'M ENLIGHTENED.
BLESS THE GODS OF GREECE, I FOUND THE ANSWER!
The emos of 2008 rose from there!
I feel like I deserve a medal, for finally understanding that.

Oh, earlier I've heard about something named as a bullet belt, I assumed it's not what I think it is [belt, with actual bullets of it, action-movie style], it's fucking is, and I should add it to the fashionable accesssories that I'm not allowed to wear in school.
Hijab is one, and Isis flags, warpaint,,, Basically all of the things that get you kicked out of the IDF.

Oh, some call their superficial self harm a "fashion statement".
You know, I'm glad that on 2008 I was a sane child, envying the fallen teeth of my classmates, being a genius and trading enormous amounts of gum for food of other children [it was delicious], suffering from my sister's favourite shows, including the Festigals that I hated at the time, and the Doras and Diegos and Hello Kitties, but watching at the same time Pokemon and Code Lyoko.
If I were a tween or a teen back there... Phew, I have no idea.
I might follow the crowd and go to that small park that's on the way to the library, skating, cutting, learning Russian, drinking and doing Graffiti. [It happened, it really happened!]


I believe that some people were quite wacky in these years.
Can't we all be like the seventies and smoke drugs up, you know... Peace and shit...
Even though that in Israel it doesn't really matter.

Oh, by the way peace and war and questionable states of their in betweens, I find it funny that people who live far away find it so fucking interesting and come here.
Dude, if you want action, go make Pogroms against some religious or race group, but not the Jews, it's just so fucking old and mainstream.

Ooh! Encyclopedia Dramatica has a page about her!
I fucking love it, I think that this thing is what created Eincyclopedia [Hebrew parody for Wikipedia].
I do feel a bit bad, after that video with this Bacon dude... Wait.. I think it's Richard Bacon? Yes, Richard Bacon, the dude who were in The Anti-Social Network.
I still want to hurt people who do that, who the fuck mocks a memorial page? ... The ones in the settlements and that weird area that nobody even cares about any more.

Oh, earlier when in the websites, they called a band "Suicide Cult" I was sure that there is an actual band named Suicide Cult.
There has to be.

OH MY, FINALLY.
The Americans and Brits aren't fun, same about their websites, they don't leave comments, they tweet about it and update statuses... Making it hard to gather it all up, so I did the best thing I could do.
Google Hannah Bond in Hebrew.
I'm going to go for at least 300 comments.
Which is quiet high for Walla, but very low for the usual amount of comments usually made.

What,
Zero comments?!
ARE THEY ALL OUT OF THEIR MINDS?

I also get some weird articles and pages that have no connection to my search's intention.
It finds me James Bond, Hannah Montana, and the other meaning of the word Emo in Hebrew, which is "his mother".



Oh, I fell asleep.
I was rudely awoken by my mother, for eating dinner.
I didn't eat, of course, who would eat so early?

I want to cut again, I feel bad, I have disappointed many around me, I'm tired of life, I feel anxious near the people I love and care about, I dread school, I make people around me to worry and waste their time, and I can't even sooth myself with the idea of actually killing myself, the Dipyrone pills won't have any lethal affect.

I can't kill myself either, the future that my surroundings would deal with is everything but pleasant.

Nights.

Yesterday's night was weird, I lay in bed, my eyes want to rest after the extended use of screens, but I still couldn't stop with thinking.
That type of thinking that if I wasn't whole with myself, wouldn't be as nice as it is now.

Sometimes I just think for myself about the things I know about myself, wondering what it makes me to be.
Dry facts are a big part, and then I add the things that passed with them.
My image of myself, changing, things that I carry with myself to this very day.

Like the fact that I still look upon my eyelashes, surprised by their length.
I used to envy Yali so much for her eyelashes [and many more things, oh, too many...] I found myself short, almost invisible; I thought of them to be the ugliest eyelashes in the entire world.
Until someone pointed out that my eyelashes are quite long [it wasn't Yali for sure, why would she lose her grip over me? Who would resist a rather innocence child, admiring such beauty?] and they are just straight.
It's one of the things that I won't forget easily.
Same thing about when I didn't pick a course, just because of the simple fact that the teacher looked a lot alike my father.
Silly me.

You know, all of the things that I used to hate myself for seem weird,
Sure, I still feel mildly insecure about them and if anybody would hurt me in these spots, I'd be crushed.
But I just don't feel this burning hatred now for my voice, my hair, my past, my skin, my actions, my mind, myself.

Before I go on, I need to tell you that I should go to Yael today, do our work in Geography, but even when I told her that we'd talk about it today, I knew that I'd probably won't show, that I'd probably get anxious, like I always do.
I think I'm going to just not activate my whatsapp, I'd probably tell the usual lie.
I misbehaved and wasn't allowed to leave home or use my cellphone.
It's pathetic, I know.
It's amusing to think that for once, I'd act any differently.
I'm a coward, that's quite a large trait of mine.
I'm usually driven by fear.
Fear of not being enough.
Fear of destroying things I love.
Fear of harming others.
I'm simply fearful.


I wanted to explain why I said Yali is beautiful, from some reason I would like to sort it out.
She has some beauty, now I despise her and everything about her makes me want to hurt her so bad, or the source of the reminder, but she was beautiful, everything I wanted to be.



I thought about it earlier, when I finished dying another part of some toy I have in my room, that people who are religious [I speak about Judaism, Christianity, and Islam] and deny the existence of magic, they pretty much go against their very own things.
I clearly remember when magic was used in the bible.
I think it's Joshua [The names get mixed up in my head], when he was about to go into a war he wasn't sure that he'd win at, he went to a foreseer, it was the last time that magic and future predicting was allowed.
After it, god commanded to kill all witches and all the ones who use their power.
Is weather included in foreseeing?
After all, it is predicting the future... Right?

You know, it's quite sad that instead of stoning sinners, we just ban them from out society.
Why not stoning?! We are overpopulating, and it's fucking awesome.

I think that for an Atheist, I enjoy and admire the bible too much.
Oh well, at least I'm not like my silly friends, claiming themselves as atheist and simply describing it as "people who believe in science and not in god."
I want to smack the stupid out of them when I hear it.
NO, WE DO NOT BELIEVE IN SCIENCE.
We don't believe in gods, or anything of that sort.
We simply don't believe.
Sure, we can reason and explain with what science does, exploring and explaining, finding logic in things.
But we do not believe in science!
Saying that you believe in science is basically being a deist.

I'm going to play Spore, I love this game, I want to pass all the evolution levels.
To excel in this game.




I was playing, I finished the cell stage, I wanted to have a carnivore on hard, which for me is the hardest.
Carnivores are very violent, and their mouths are always hard to use for socialisation, and I can't get any dances, or charms, or poses!
I'm a bit tired, so I'd probably rest a bit more, everything that would take my mind away from the pain I'm causing Yael.


Now, it's eight pm.
I told Yael I was punished.
I feel like she's wasting her time on me, and I know that the right thing to do is to tell her we'd better end our friendship,
I know that I should do it, for her, she deserves better, I can't offer her the support she needs, and it would be cruel to expect her to be there for me when I can't be there for her.
I'm going to have changing moods, I'm going to hurt her, I know I will, I better leave her now before it'd end in the wrong way.
I should pluck up some courage, she deserves good friends, people who actually can give her a better option.
She deserves better than everything I can offer, and I just block her way to better places.

I can't find any other people in Google, ending a relationship because of the same reasons.
We're not in college, or dating, or married, or anything they do.
Plainly close friends, one is incredible and perfect and worries too much and the other is a person that your parents warned you about, that type of a person that just ends up hurting you, that bad influence and strain you deal with.
I really feel weird about writing the last sentence, because of "I'm the person your parents warned you about" sounds like a fucking emo/ punk poseur trying to be hip or something, but my parents actually warned me to stay away from certain people.
I became like these people.


Okay, I wanted to have some fun, I went to the "emo" tag on Stips.
There was a question with 101 answers.
It's really funny, because when somebody tries to break a record with answers, it usually reaches to seven, but when somebody just raises the term "emo" people go bat shit crazy about it.

Okay, some female asked if males would date a girl that doesn't shave her armpit.
I feel like people who don't shave and don't apply deodorant [don't give me the "dangerous chemicals" bullshit, the things that people would do are worse than these chemicals] should be banished from society.
You're sweaty, it's full of germs, it smells, it's plain cruel to leave us with that horrifying stench.
Week old corpses smell better than you!
YES.
THAT BAD.


I miss Omri, he's alive, I know it because he answers and he tried to message me.
It's so restricting to be blocked there, it's like having tape on your mouth when you have a very important thing to say.

You know what I find mildly annoying?
When people use numerals.
Why for? You don't have the shitty gender thing anyway!
It doesn't natter if it's two boys or two girls, it's two anyway, pronounced and written in the same manner!
In Hebrew we use it because we are too fucking lazy and tired of being corrected if it's a female or male two.
For fucks sake, nobody has the power for it.
And we should work more on the throat letters anyway, I can't understand what people say with the lack of difference and correctness in these 3 major letters. [There are four, but three sound the same from people who can't say a'a (ע) or a (א) or ha (ה) differently.]


Well, I think I should think about my action planning my next steps.
On the meanwhile, I'm going to enjoy being on Wikihow.
There's this article "How to be a good student without being teacher's pet".
Now sweety, what's the fun about that?
My teachers think I'm bright, I'm lovely, willing to listen to them and follow up, the fact that I can listen and go pretty well makes them go "I didn't fail at teaching this 'tards! I didn't" because most of my classmates can come up with these dumb questions, and then repeat them for five times. Because I listen quite well I catch them cussing and swearing [I'n getting used to say "swearing" and it's fucking hard, how come "fuck" is a swear?! It's more stupid then the ones who misuse the biblical word for swearing, you own them your slaves, at least one daughter, and all of your goats, and sometimes your wife as well! If you don't know what you're doing or saying, don't do it!] and they see me smirking at them, amused by their reaction, and they look at me, smiling awkwardly.
I don't tell anyone, these teachers are fucking awesome and it's not their fault that the students are just talking in the meanwhile and have to ask it five times.

Back to teacher's pet, you need to be memorised, my teacher knows I am very good at maths, but I'm fucking horrible when it comes to dividing and multiplying with negatives and positives.
I do everything correct but that.
Yep, it sounds like I'm going to be that person who surprises you with the 3 units in maths....

By the way future and grades, I still worry sometimes when it comes to the conscription.
There's this thing... The body checks.
I fear that I'd have scars, and the doctor would look at me, shaking his head and saying that I need to be sent to the MHO, and I have no idea what kind of a MHO I'd fall on, the one who takes a bit of the medication that in his cabinets and couldn't care less, the one who needs more help than you do, the over-curious type, the school-counsellor type [over excited], everything.


Oh well, I better not think about it.
Good night lovelies.

Sleeping's good.

I'm writing with my sister's laptop, it's really weird.
It's a lot bigger and my hands are used to a smaller keyboard.
I'm listening to Circles of Hollywood Undead.

I would like to tell you something.
I didn't remember that sleeping can be that beautiful.
I was a bit tired at about two or three pm, and I fell asleep, after I woke up, wow.
I felt so good, there was hope for a better place to be in.
I didn't know that there's another thing that can give me this feeling, I knew that pets [especially cats] that fall asleep on you and rely on you makes me feel this way, but sleeping is better, it's available.
I'm probably going to use it at times.
Well, until my mother would yell at me that I'm not allowed to go to sleep because that's what depressed people do.
I have no problem with this thing, I understand that they do it, but I am not depressed, I'm not in denial either, but I do have a problem with her reaction.
I want to sleep, but I won't because that's what depressed people do? It would be awful to be around my mother when I'd be [if I'd be] depressed.
She sounds like having a depressed child is something she won't accept, ever.
Even when it's simple hormonal issue that guess what? Many have, especially during puberty, and the fact that my body is getting a bit crazy because of the hormones that I do take.

Oh, I was stipsing around [I'm making it a verb, the dictionaries should stop resisting] and I found someone that I can relate to very well.
The person who asked it says that he has a really good friend, she's perfect in his eyes, and he hurts her, he doesn't want to hurt her, but he does, and he hates himself for it, he can sense when she's lying to him and says that she's fine, he thinks he's a bad person for it.
I know it sounds hypocritical and stupid, but he sounds a pretty damn good person.
Dude, you are amazing, you tell her all these great things about her, you're trying, and frankly, it's not your fault that she cannot understand it.

He tells her all that great things about her, and she thinks he's joking, I understand both sides.
From his side, it's frustrating, she can't understand that he's being honest and he can't see her blaming herself and being unable to believe that she's not that bad.
From her side, I do get it, I feel so pathetic when people compliment me, because I'm that bad and I look so emotionally fragile to them that I need people falsely compliment me so I won't start crying and hating myself and what not.

I said "emotionally fragile" because I'm quite strong, not intimidating [5'2 is everything but intimidating] I hate being called sensitive,

I'm a lot alike him, but I'm nothing like him when it comes to thinking about others being sad.
He regrets it, I actually feel somewhat helpless and because of it I chose to detach myself, I have no whatsoever the ability to do anything.
Maybe because when I feel sad all I can do is waste time until it passes, maybe cut, but it's just a distraction anyway, it doesn't really matter because it takes no time until it gets fixed.

I've cut because I hated myself and felt I deserve it.
Did it help? Maybe, I don't know, but I stopped because I have no reason to, I've accepted it that I am who I am, it's some cycle and it's okay, kind of it.

Okay, since my computer is probably dead, and my hard disk is erased, I keep some on the images I already put up here, I keep only one self harm image, because it amuses me.

It's when I put tape and it got all weird, I like this image.
It actually was better when I put tape, because now I have a bit of glue left on my skin and I can't really fix it.


This post is short because I have nothing better to do, I'm going to bed, watch some movies, go to sleep...
You know... Living and stuff.

Four, nothing wrong with me.

Well, I'm experimenting with the dye and the bleach.

I can't manage to gt it right.

I got strong mint from the previous trial.

I'd probably end up going to a professional.

My wounds are healing properly, beginning to scar like they should.

Forming into some light fleshy pink tissue.

Fuck, my left hand's finger is almost numb.
I tried to paint on my computer with the touchscreen and the mousepad, that's the outcome.
I know, a bit weird, but that's pretty good with me!
I used to make absolutely shitty designs without the tablet, and now? I have impressed myself! 
I had some problems with everything, but I worked it out.
My main tools were the brush and the watercolour brush, I used the select things of course, but it was pretty awesome.
I had no idea what to do with the stale background, so I just added up some triangles in different shades of techie turquoise, and it looks a bit more tech like.
I don't know, I like it, it's some sort of another improvement.


Okay, I'm on stips [I'm so obssesed with it that even when I'm blocked I'm there... Pathetic, I know] and there are always these questions about popularity, and sometimes people message me "Are you popular", and it's really hard for me to answer properly.
Yes, I do have quite an amount of people who I can easily communicate with, varies from small talks to deep conversations.
However, I'm not close friends or actual friends with the ones who are considered "popular".
So in my clique I am considered active and loud, but even that's not really true.
Because I'm horrifyingly scared to hurt or embarrass or make them hate me.

I just feel like I'm doing everything wrong near them.
I don't really know why I fear it.

Oh well, I'm going today to the cabria, anxious.
I didn't go today to the practise because of it.

I need a cloak.
But the hooded ones, tied at the neck, maybe some sort of embellishment on it.
Maybe velvety?
Anyway, it would be really awesome.

But it's not as important as nightgowns are for me currently.
I'm looking for above-knee length with 3/4 sleeves or short but rather baggy.
Basically, a really big shirt.



You know what I notice more and more? Children and teenagers complaining about their very own generation.
Excuse me?
Who the fuck taught this kids to be this way? they did? Oh... Yeah, the media did.

Who made sure that the media will evolve to this thing? The genration beforehand.
Now, before you open your mouth, making both you and the ones you enjoy to call "dumb", seem equally ignorant, understand that it's not your fault, or their fault.
It's the previous generation fault.
I don't know if you see it, but I certainly do, parents, paying their best money only for outrageous titles for their offsprings.
Or even better, buying the very new smartphone and technology, even though that they broke.
It usually drives me crazy.
THERE IS NO FOOD IN THE FRIDGE WHEN THERE IS IPHONE 6 ON THE HAND.

Well, my laptop is broken, and tomorrow I'm getting it fixed.
My windows got deleted.
Anyway, I'm partly blonde now, I'm going to dye it tomorrow for badass mint green. 

It's going to be badass mint green because voodoo blue and bleached black hair form this colour. 

I feel quite weird, the colour, the reaction, it's not that I really care about what "they" think, I care about the shame and anxiety I'd feel. 

My sister thinks that I should've picked red. 

Like, strong red. 

But no, not just yet. 

I'd probably do red one time, and I want to do purple as well, and rainbow!

Rainbows are fucking awesome. 

It's going to be funny, curls and dyes. 

Yep, seems like something that I'd do. 

I feel lovely now, if my hair was dyed instead of the hideous combination of yellows and oranges. 

Maybe I'd actually go tomorrow and buy some badass red dye. 

Meh, I'm too lazy. 

Three, nothing wrong with me.

Well, soon I'm going to the bus stop near the bank, so Shani and I would go to Tel Aviv.
From one side, I feel ashamed of going to drag her to some place that sells Manic Panic, but I really want them.
It's really weird, isn't it.
I haven't planned on how and where I'm dying it.



Oh, it's almost nine pm.
I want to cry.
And why is that, dear? I wanted to dye my hair, but I'm really anxious about it.
I really hate my skin colour.
I feel like I don't belong to anywhere...
I want to be normal, like everybody in my city, like my friends.
I can't stand it, it disturbs my life, it makes people treat me differently.
I want to have light skin, like everybody.
I want to die now, it's that bad.
I just feel like I'm degraded by it.
I'd love to get a paler shade.
I guess if it'll get worse and it'll carry on, I'd just go for mono-diets that makes me look paler.

It fucking sucks you know?
I just don't belong, I never did, and it blocks me even more.
I guess it's time again for lemon, skin moisturising, not eating properly.
I need to be alright.

I need to take care of myself.



I bought plenty of nice things in  Tel Aviv, but now I'm consumed by the feeling.
I started scratching myself, lightly, like a normal person, now I'm digging my nails into my disgusting arms.

You know, for a short while I actually thought I'd be content.
Accepting my personality and enjoying my looks.
Oh well, let's just carry on until the next rise, it's always funny to see me to get all scared to fall again.

Two, nothing wrong with me.

Wound cleaning...
It's good.
Everything's good.
I got a bit of blood on the bedsheet, and it's probably from yesterday's morning or night session.

I got some wounds that remain open and gaping but can be easily pinched close.

Well, this one, right here, on your left, is my razors.
I just wanted to show you how thin and sharp it is, I was amazed.
It's easier to see it through the original size, you can see some metallic colour and shine.
My feet are cold again, I hate when it happens.
Oh, yesterday, by some funny status [I found it funny, others may feel offended], and maybe everything that I'm going through, is because of that I didn't take my B-12 tablets.
It can do this shit.
But even if I'd take them, it won't matter, if I'd be healed is because I really want to, and believe it's the actual cure.
But I may also decide that it has no effect over me and I'd go on.
Both ways make me feel like my overthinking is going to kill me.
Nothing that I'd do will be able to satisfy me properly.
 Now, the ones on the left here, are everything before I cut last night.
I feel like shit now.
Everything here is just in my head.
I can't even do spontaneous things because of it.
I don't think I can even cure it.
I guess I have to leave with it.
It's for the better, just letting it be instead of fighting it.
Being acceptive is always easier than rebelling.
It's a pretty good thing to know, and a rule to follow at these times.
Fuck teen rebellion, instead of going against and then whining that your parents won't do this or buy you that, be nice, acceptive, do that stupid thing and just contain yourself, then you'll get shit easily.
I find this way to be very easy.
It's no rocket science.

Anyway, last night, when I cut, I found a couple of issues.
I feel fear before I cut.
Well, not exactly fear, but my stomach is being tied in knots, I'm about to cry but in the same time, it feels like tear ducts are a myth, I really want to turn back but can't, and I still want to cut through other things.
I feel like a fraud.
And why wouldn't I feel like it? Look at me.
I'm more fake than.... I have no example for you, but I believe you know how pathetic I am.
Well, I feel like I should stop being.
I'm nothing.
That's it, I'm nothing.
 Nobody would really mind that, you can just imagine like one math lesson "Dvash? Dvash? Where's Dvash" "She's dead."
It seems so weird now to write "dead".
Unnatural and foreign.

I guess it's good.
Writing "dead" a lot can drive you crazy.
Gladly, I'm not a doctor or a police officer or a psychiatrist or anything alike, because then... Too many reports about the dead.
This cut was really awkward as you can guess.
I have about an hour until I need to be in the practise, and then straight off to the Cabaria.
It's quite a headache, and it take a lot from me, but as I said, the friends there... Oh, they are awesome.

Well, last night I considered telling about my self harm to someone.
The only one I found to be fit in my head, is Dabush.
The relationship I have with him is different, we're friends, a female and a male, and I don't think he's going to cut too.
From the other side...
Talking to a perfectionist who blames herself and gets really anxious about it... Not much of a good idea.
I want to tell him, but I'm afraid he'd tell to others.
I really don't want it to spread in some crooked way and all of the two hundred students to hear about it, and it might even spread outside.
I'm not willing to get in trouble like this and worse.
Worse seems to have to see the guidance counsellor.
I don't want to have anything to do with guidance counsellors.
They just get all excited "Oh! I got a girl that I'm helping! I'm needed!" and the other side is "For fuck's sake... Chill!".

I don't even want to say it to him, he might be too scared or having no idea what to say, and it may ruin the friendship.
And nope, this thing that I do won't destroy me my relationships.
Even though that it seems like a very good idea at times, if I'll have no relationships, it'll be easier to carry out plans.
I'm a mess.

Okay I was on stips and I found another shitty account.
"Psychologist but for myself" and I want to rip their heads off.
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW TERRIBLE AND PATHETIC YOU SOUND?!
Sure, be a good listener, of course, we're all here for each other, but entitling yourself as being a mentally ill person?
Rude.
Fuck you miss, fuck you.
You aren't any different than Emo_Girl that's here, or Whatsup, or Kapara.
Sorry, they actually listen to my words and are actually ill...
I feel fake now. Fuck what have I done?
I shouldn't let this distract me, I'm going to finish my speech and then face myself.

 They are actually ill, each one makes you want to go there and be there for them even more.
The girl? Eating disorders, our relationship started after she noticed that after each time that some girl asked something, including that she claims to have an eating disorder, I would comment "Were you diagnosed that you're so certain of it?" because I'm getting really tired of it.
I don't have an eating disorder, but my eating was fucked up.
 I don't know what I'm doing, I hate myself, I get anxious near people I care about, I bother too much with things and I over enjoy healing and treating wounds.
Am I mentally ill? Probably not, am I wishing to be one? Yes, I want someone to finally tell me that's something is infact very wrong, and that I can get rid of it.

Okay, um... A wound, won't close, I guess it's scar tissue or something that's building up.
Anyway, I have a bit of time before I need to leave.
I'm going to take money....


Okay-os [I really enjoy adding "os" to everything, sometimes not stopping at one "os" so it goes "ososososososos", my verbal expression was never that good!] I'm back.
Well, I was back a couple of hours ago, but let's begin.

The practise was alright, the wounds [I feel like calling them "cuts" is too harsh] were a bit in pain, it just made me want to do better, it quite annoyed Yael, because I was speeding up.

Short break, I asked my mom if I can dye my hair, she said yes.
And I really want to dye the bottom layer [I'm cool, I 'k'now it] but my mother said it's aarsy.
If there's anything that truly and wholly offends me, it's that.
I feel like everything that I work for, from the attitude through the clothing and ending in every other passage, is ruined.
I'm so fucking sorry that I was born in Israel, as a person who looks eastern! [Israel's easterners are usually Yemenite and Iraqi and shit.]
 I just want to cut myself, angrily, everything that I have done is worthless, all I did is stupid, and I just wasted plenty of my precious time.


 Okay, back to things.
I went to the Cabaria, pre-renovation.
It was alright.
I was pretty damn anxious without a person that I know, and I was away from my friends for about thirty minutes that felt like an eternity.


You know what I did earlier?
I somehow got into the website "tiny buddha" .
Last time I got there, I actually got better, just reading the titles of each step.
I reached the third, nothing meant much.
I just started with "You are bad, we both [I get this two voices thing, I think everybody has it, it's just that mine actually amuses me and makes it's presence a lot more lovely instead of just 'you're a fat slob' and all that shit] know it, and we're just going to deal with. That's you, that's me, that's all, just try to go with it."
I don't think I can feel better than when I just give up.
"You know what? Fuck it, that's you, let's just go fucking on already."

On Taghashish, Yuval sent a link, it's the article that MCRL [Sometimes I'm not sure how I spell his name in English so I just choose the nickname] wrote.
There's the new thing in Frogi [teen news website], writing about your very best friend.
It's lovely.

It also makes me quite sad, I can't have these relationships easily.
I feel like if I'd say something now, it would change everything.
I can't just drop it on them, it would be so fucking rude.
"Dabush I need to tell you something... "Huh?" "I uh... cut." "What?" "I cut... myself." Now, at this point some reaction that would make me want to drop everything, dig a hole and bury myself in it.
I just don't want to hurt them, confuse them, give them ideas, make them feel guilty, I just don't.
They deserve better.
Oh my, I just wonder why they bother and stick around.

If I were them, I'd probably be avoided by them like the plague.


You know... I feel this emptiness.... That emptiness that's so soothing.
A promise of safety.
I'd rather be this hollow and empty, hormonally and emotionally able to have my mood changed and faded away in a matter of minutes.
It's better than feeling hatred and agony.
I feel like I'm hugged by soft cotton, and it's amazing.


I was on stips, checking if there's a chance that my place in the top answerers of the week has changed.
Nope, I'm still the first.
It's quite amusing, one of their more remarkable accounts is blocked by some psycho that needs revenge.
It's working quite well, I feel like I can't do anything.

I feel suicidal at times, like I want to cut, like I need to go crazy.
But I can't even talk to my friends.
I have no idea if they are alive or dead!

Well, let's just put our hopes in tomorrow.
I wonder if I'd cut or not, I don't think I will today [today is already tomorrow anyway] or in the next couple of hours, it's just a mess to get it clean and bandaged, I need to let them scar a bit and then clean the area properly, there are glue remains.


Good night.

One, nothing wrong with me.

I got less than twenty minutes until I need to leave, and I'm dressed, sitting on the bed, just without my trousers, waiting to pluck some courage and hurt the girl who've hurt too many.
I guess I'm getting a bit afraid of my newfound depth.
I want to stop doing it, I want to be able to ignore all of my wrongs.

I'm a little less of a sinner now.
A little less.


Okay, I'm back, so I may start and explain.
Yes, I cut, the previous paragraph was written straight after it and just before I bandaged it.
I found out today that the quick and hard cuts are lousy with this blade, they come out a lot shallower than more slow and dragging ones.

I assume it's because of the sharpness.
When I do quick and hard, the blade cuts so smoothly, that it's basically brushing it a bit.
The slow, gentle, and dragging ones are forming deeper and gaping cuts.
I think I'm going to do more slow ones, they don't frighten me.
The quick ones do scare me, simply because that with my previous razors, quick worked the best.
Now I can enjoy mine to the very fullest.

The biggest issue that I dealt with was managing two thighs at a time, the right one has four smalls, just trying to drip to my bed, and on the left, a deeper and larger one, bleeding more than the four altogether, I succeeded of course, but I wasted a third of a steristrip, the blood didn't allow the steristrip to be applied and used properly.
You can see a bit of the problem in the last image, but oh boy, it was worse.
The blood just tried to drip away, so I had to soak it up with gauzes, it didn't help much, because then I needed to clean around, and I couldn't use the alco-gel wipe, because the alcohol on it would cause it to bleed more [that's why I clean before the act and the day after] so it was really weird.
Anyway, I think I should take out the bandaging now.
I did, and oh, it was weird.
In the left thigh I found that in a certain angle, the tape removal actually works and doesn't get caught in my hair, or sticks too tightly to my skin.
It's alright, but the right thigh, whoa, that was something entirely different, I accidentally put on tape on a wound I thought that was closed.... I was wrong.
It produced some weird yellowish liquid-gel thing...
I just... Oh, it was weird.

So, I'm going to give you everything, on this on, I used two on the base, but the blood was getting slightly through, so I added another on on top of them.
As you can se, on the image without the bandage on it, the gauze that was connected to the wound has some weird bright red thing.

Well, it's six thirty, tomorrow I have to be at a practise [ugh] and then rush straight of to the pre-renovation that's until five pm.
I really enjoy being there, but it brings me a lot of anxiety and sometimes I feel like I'm being a strain and stain for the Cabaria,




Okay, it's eight forty, I feel bad.
I feel like I need to tell someone that I'm in a pretty big mess, but if I'd confess it, I'd be left again, to be unable to be able to do things normally, to properly function.
I also feel like I'm just another "oh, she doesn't belong here" type of a person.
Why?
Because I don't have problems.
No problems at fucking all.
I feel like the one they described in that humorous page that's supposed to written by a psychologist, the people in every closed ward....


My mother stepped in, Keren said I can come on Monday or Tuesday.
My mother also asked me if I think I need one, she thinks it's better not to on holidays.
I said that I don't need them.
My mother also said that we might go and visit the family during the holiday and I joked and said that I suddenly need to see Keren.
I have no use in wasting the time of a mother with a tween child while it's holidays.

There isn't anything to treat in me anyway, nothing is wrong with me.
The cuts? call it my legal duty, keeping a criminal and a sinner tamed.

Fuck it, I'm just on the road of being a functional teenager, isn't it?!
It's some sort of a messed up joke, it has to be!


I just can't sort it out, that's all...
I'm going to just give you the sentence:

"The depressed happy girl, the one that will always try to cut but she's actually really happy and nothing's wrong with her."

The only thing I can do about it is slowly raise my hand in shame.




Oh, my dad decided it's a really good idea to scare me while I was with a glass hand, about to open the refrigerator.
I almost started to cry.
Last time I dropped a glass, barefoot, in this kitchen, I needed stitched, but didn't get them, so I was resting for two weeks until the wound started healing.



Oh, I'm just tired of everything.

Something, listening to Breathe Me of Sia is all I need.

I want to stand up and get help, somebody with the right tools and heart to help me and save me.
But I can't find on.
I just get to places where I'm dismissed as just another emo.
No wonder... I feel like I should lie next time, just to be able to get rid of this labeling.

I feel like I need to cut, and I don't know what stops me, but it's better than bleeding until next morning, during the practise and through the pre-renovation.


I need somebody that's willing to take care of me, accept me as I am.
But I won't find any, and even if I will, I'd probably back off, I don't want to be a burden.

But I am.
I am a burden.
I need to get help, I know it, but I hav no problems.
I just want to sit on my bed, rock back and forth, listen to music, and talk with a friend that knows exactly what I've done.
I need to cut, I know it.
I'm afraid that my parents will come in.
I also want to cut my wrist and watch blood pulsating out.

But I won't.
Do you have an idea how terrifying it can be to find you daughter, in bed, having blood on the sheets, holding a note slightly stained in blood, not responding.
And if not dead, then asleep.
I can't do it.
I won't do it.

But why do I crave it?
Why do I sit here, just longing for painkillers.


I just hate puberty, I can't stand the pain it brings with it.
I'm not capable of going on.
And nothing can really guarantee that it would be later.

I just need to go and tell somebody that I need help, and I need it now.
I would like to cancel the Cabaria and the practise and just get the help, both of these activities bring me great anxiety.


It's midnight.
I'm tired of being alive.
Maybe I'd cut, maybe I won't.


I'm going to watch a movie, I'm publishing it but I might just come back and say I've done something or something happened.


I've cut.
Of course.
The slow? Yeah, it doesn't work.

I fucking hate it.

Tomorrow would be interesting.
I'm considering writing a letter for my mother, telling her that I need to switch a therapist.

Oh, the weird numbness.. It's wonderful.
I barely feel any pain.
I know it hurts, and I feel my nerves screaming for aiding, but that's it.
I took care of it quite well.

I'm calling it a night.

Rest.

So...
Last night was a bit whacky.
I'm not going to the bazaar today, I have nothing to really buy there, I'm not in an extreme need for leggings, or any Rock Chang shirts, or whatever.
At most, I need boots.
Oh, by the way shoes and things, I need to stitch my vans.
Maybe later.

Okay, I would like to say: STERI-STRIPS ARE THAT GOOD.
I haven't tried to pull 'em [I like saying 'em] off, but by their look, they are in a different league from my stupid attempt with tape and a bandage like the last cut from them, wow, the tape is really strong, so it's quite awful to use.
Over the cut it doesn't hurt, but the skin, being pulled by the super-strong tape? Wow.

Anyway, all I do now, is like always, sit on the beanbag, not moving my thighs too much, and getting some bad-ass finger muscles!
I need to load up all the CD's that I found at my dad's office-room.
I have now plenty of Arabic music.
I also got Aya Korem, and I used to hear it a lot in car rides, this, and a song named "Parole"

I need to also take pictures of my things.

Okay, soon.


Oh I wanted to say something, when I occasionally try to find out what the hell is wrong with me [except puberty] I find people saying that exercising helps.
Fuck you, it doesn't.
If it did, you'd see me being an energy-bombs, I get the option to be one when I'm:
A) Anxious.
B) Alone.
C) Fasting.
D) Actually happy.
So, anxious actually happens quite often {"don't screw up with them!"}, and being alone happens sometimes, but not always, I don't fast anymore, and right now happy is something that I'd get back soon.

I'm going soon to get some balance or just go to the other side, unbalanced, anyway, it won't be bad.

Well, I really like the gauze pads I bought, I guess it reminds me of when my dad would bring tons of it, they were from the IDF, we also had the cool tape.

I just enjoy the "cutting" questions for now, I'm blocked again, there's some dumb "loyal" who hates me.
Seriously, I get enough shit for actually speaking up my mind like they requested, and not just petting their ego and making them feel okay when it's not okay.

I'm going to show you the funny ones:
"With what people cut? Normal knives or shaving razors? (don't worry, it's or a play we're raising in front of the rest of the teen movement [me: probably scouts] and I don't want to look stupid in this part of the play)"
Now, most answers says that they are not really picky.

Am I the only one who would look at you like you just landed from the moon when you'd say that you cut with normal knives?
It's jagged and messy, and really weird.
You make more mess than you actually cut.



Oh, I'm blocked.
For two days... It would be a hell.
I hate these disgusting people who falsely report me.
They have no idea what their hatred can do.
It hurts, I have people there, and these people and I are pretty close for online buddies.
One dude got a lot better, today, in this very morning, he was really happy.
Another, I just have no idea what he might do, he's a danger to himself, and I care about him.
I also got these different emo girls who are really nice to me.
I got also some cool other girls and a couple of whackjobs around.


Fuck, I want to cut now, on my wrist.
I know, I know... What an attention whore...
But I do think that I should make my parents see that's something is simply not alright.
I need help.
A form of "help" that actually helps, not a bunch of pens and paper and a bit of "let's talk about it".
So far, it got me to nowhere. to relapse.

I absolutely despise this treatment I get.
I feel like I'm a fatass around her.
Like a failure.
It just makes me feel shitty.


Oh, okay, I'm a bit better.
I reread that one things, describes exactly what happens after you kill yourself.
I don't want to hurt them.
It's not like my life sucks, I'm being teased, struggling with something or anything like that.
My life is perfect, the person who I present to the world is basically flawless.
I just feel like the world is better without me.
I'm such an awful person.
But I won't die, so I won't hurt them, I've hurt them enough so far.
I just can't allow it.

Oh, I just want to end myself.

Things are getting worse, but even if I'd try to ask for help, nothing would help.
The psychiatrist thinks that I'm just being another on under puberty, and he's probably right.

But the fact that he's right doesn't really matter, I still feel the way I do.


I need help, but I can never get it....
I think that the psychiatrist had to deal with so many attention whores and emos from '07 that he simply lost faith in the juvenile.
I would too if I were him.
I look like enough like I'm emo in their eyes [if I had brown hair it would be different, I'm certain of it] so they just won't give a fuck.
Why these assholes had to do it? Why? So I won't get any way out?



Oh, I'm going to answer self harm questions from stips here.
Maybe I'd be able to sort out my mind.
"Are cutters here? Why do you do it? It's ugly and painful and not calming at all, may I at least get an explanation? Is it for attention?"
And let's begin.
Yes.
I don't know, I can only guess.
I know it's ugly and painful and all it makes you in the end more anxious, but that's a part of it, the pain is one, like many that said, ugly takes a toll as well, to make others feel disgusted by my awful presence, that they'll see how mangled I am and they should beware, calming... I find the treatment very calming.
You see, this one I'm not sure always about, usually, I do it for myself, as I believe I truly deserve it, but sometimes, I want to cut in obvious places, whether it's for making me anxious, and whether it's for somebody to finally realise that something is very wrong in here.


I don't know what to do, I feel like I need to cut again, but I'm sick of causing problems.
I feel like nothing helps me, I don't want to start again, it's just a pain in the ass.
I just wish that I'd pleasantly cease to exist, and I'd stop hurting people.



I just don't know what to do.
I don't know if I'll cut or not.
I'm not even in the mood for doing anything.

I know I should, I deserve it... I know I do.
Maybe it's because it's too early.
Maybe later... Maybe.
I just wish I could finally rest.

I need to get help.
Soon....
I want help... The one that works, not the one I get.
I know about Placebo effect, but dear, there are times where you should simply cure it.
Don't tell me that only I can help myself, at most I can wait patiently until I hate my body instead of my personality.
You see, it's or I fast, or I cut.
The inbetween is rare.

I just feel like I shouldn't do anything anymore.
I'm tired of hurting people, I'm tired of destroying things for others, I'm tired of making others worry, I'm tired of being me.
I just shouldn't exist.

I just need some time to sort it out, maybe get some help.



I hate people who have no idea when they can properly say "indeed".
You are so wrong, in so many levels, that it offends me.
Well, pardon me mister man-who-thinks-it's-alright-to-treat-such-a-language-this-way, but don't you think it's quite disrespectful?



Well, talk to you tomorrow, I wonder what this night will bring.

I don't know.

I feel like I'm failing everyone near me.
I destroy lives, sometimes I barely notice, sometimes it's all I can possibly think about.
And history is about to repeat itself.
I have these really awesome and funny friends, and I won't do it for them.
I won't do it for my brother and sister.
I won't do it for dad.
Only the thought of hurting my dad brings me to tears.

I guess I'd have to pull through.
I won't do it for them.

And like it's not enough, what about my grandmothers? Aunts and uncles? My cousins?

I just feel like I'm one day going to break, it won't be very hard, deep one on the wrist and I may leave.
I know, I know, the success chances are low, and I can't really explain what-the-fuck-was-I-thinking, I'd just end up having tons of blood on my sheet, or a nice bed in the emergency room.

Fuck, what if my uncle would be there?
He's a doctor, working mostly there, and... Wow.

I would probably never do so.
Just the fear of "What if..." is paralysing.

Yet, I still have the urge to do so.

I don't know what to do.
I'm great at telling others to do better, to support them, but I can't do it for myself.
I don't think I even want to do so... If I'd do this to myself, I'd lose my friends, and when I'd feel fake and disgusted by my "do better" and "I got your back" bullshit, I'd be alone.


I chat now with a dude, we can name him Kapara, okay?
He talks about that he gets psychiatric meds, and it just makes him get worse.
I envy him.
He knows what's wrong with him, he has something that is actually fucked up.
I don't have this luxury, nothing is wrong with me.
Everything is perfectly right with me.
I'm simply perfect.

It drives me crazy.
Nothing is wrong with me, but still I feel this way.
It's insane.

I feel like I'm suffocated by it, like I'm lost, and I'm drowning.

I have nothing that's wrong with me, and yet I do the things I do.
I get teary when I disappoint people.
I sometimes don't want to eat, at all.
I want to die at times
I have no idea who I am anymore.
I want to puke sometimes, and I hate puking, I just need to be cleaned from the inside.
I don't let go of the things that have embarrassed me before, whether it was ten years ago or ten days ago.
I wish to get help, but I can't allow myself to just suffer from it again.
I envy people with problems because they know what's wrong with them.



This "okay" labeling I got drives me crazy.


Wait, you know what's crazy?
Each time I feel something, if my breath is quickened because I'm getting anxious, or do something, I yell at myself that I'm acting-out and nothing is wrong with me and that I better stop being fake and stupid and get a fucking life.



It's one pm, I feel like cutting.
I don't know if I should wait or not.
From one side, the bathroom is cleaner, and it's more private.
From the other side, my room has more medical tools, but it's not private.

Oh, it passed a bit, maybe I'd be alright today.



You know, sometimes I think that my self harm has another purpose.
To make people stay away from me.
You know.... Weird scars on the thighs aren't very appealing.
Usually, damaged things aren't very attractive, so the scars that will form would be like a warning colouration.

You know what's actually good-ish about it?
Since my skin is dark, my scars are lighter, and it's easier to darken things than lighten.
A friend of mine has light skin and his scars are dark.
I feel like I'm alright, nobody notices the lighter ones anyway, or it's just that they never ask.
I still got the three light lines on my left thighs, nobody cares or notices, so I'm okay.
But if I'd have more mangled scars because of the new depth, and my mother might notice...  That would cause problems, because they surely weren't there before.



Okay, it's seven thirty three.
I haven't cut yet, I haven't showered yet, tomorrow I'm going to the bazaar.
I don't know how much sleep I'm going to get.
Last night I got about four to five hours, falling asleep at four am.

I'm passing time now, I have nothing else to do.
Maybe I'd dye something later.
I really like the acrylic paint I got from the twenty nis store.
59 millilitres, one white, one black.
It's really cool, I repainted my wallet.

I'll probably make a huge "Look what I got!" type of a post tomorrow, involving my new things from the twenty dollar store.

I want to cut my wrist.
Exactly at the part where you can see the blood vessels.
About here.
I know it's stupid, and I won't be able to hide it.
But it's so... Intriguing.
I better not.
Let's just stick to thighs and being less stupid.
My last time, yesterday, when shit was bad, I did it quite low.
It's stupid, I know.
I don't know if I want to use my corn-plane-blades.
Sure, they are sharp as a scalpel, exactly like the veterinary teacher said, but it's a lot different.
When I cut over a cut, it doesn't cut over it, it just hurts weirdly.
It bleeds quite a lot, in one cut, which is different from the small razors, because when I cut over a cut, it was a bitch to go through.
Which had something to it.

I was triggered, by some fifteen year old bitch.
I hate the religious tards that make the nice and mitzvah-loving Jews.
I thought I was going to easily go through this night, no cuts, just peace.

I'm getting a bit tired, and it's eight thirty.
Maybe I'd cut and fall asleep.
I really want to not bandage it.
I just want blood all over the place.
"Look what I've done. I need help. Please."
But I won't, this "help" would harm me.




I don't know what to do guys, I feel like I should go up and do what I wanted to do, but at the same  time, I want to do nothing, and be good.

I'm on my bed, unsure of what to do.
Oh well, the night is still young!
Let's enjoy it, shall we?

Okay, you know what I really hate?
These "I'm so totally depressed, look at this tacky depressed thing I do!" people annoy me.
Seriously, stop saying "The psychologist of everyone but myself." or anything of this sort!
You don't see me complaining about it, now do you?

Ha, I do complain about going there even though that all it does is to worsen my behaviour.
I don't know if I should tell or shouldn't.
I'm still afraid that the threat of sending me to all kinds of scary places.
I don't want to stop.
It just worsens it.

I don't know what I'm doing but I kick/firmly-pat my toe knuckles against the wall.
It hurts a bit, but not too much.




It's about midnight.
I just don't know what to do.




I've cut.
One am, and I did it.

That thing,the fact that's it's straight of white, and a bit of blood, that's spooky.
I forgot how freaky it can be, and fuck, my foot is in pain, and cold.
I think that the whiteness is a lot scarier than the simple blood, you aren't supposed to see the white.
Oh well, everything is healing nicely anyway, so it doesn't matter.
I'm going to sleep soon, it hurts.

 It is freaky how sharp the blades are, just one swift motion and this depth.
Amazing.


Okay, in this one, you can see  me pinching the wound, closing it [there was a small gap even when I did it] with my fingers and applying pressure, without infecting the wound, which reminds me, I cleaned everything with the alco-gel wipe.
It's very weird to cut and then take care of it.
I think that the bandaging is a big part of the whole ceremony.
I'm glad it is, I got no time for infections and it's friends.
It's a bit low, but now very low.
Okay, I'm going to explain exactly what I did with bandaging.
I started with putting gauzes and apply pressure, when I understood I better close it, I tried bringing a band aid, which didn't work, so I used a steristrip, cutting it to three unequal shapes, one large on the middle and two smaller ones on each side, then putting the gauzes [4] back on, and taping it with my surgical tape, in this <#> shape, and then for applying a decent amount of pressure, I put on some elastic bandage.
It hurts a bit, and my foot is suffering, but it's okay, I just need to fix the elastic.