Author: ladycyanidexx

D1 Starting again (26/1/08)

I know it’s only me reading this, but i thought i should mention that after taking a very extended break after realising just how effing long it will take to transcribe all of my diaries, i’ve decided to cherry-pick bits and pieces. I don’t really need an eternal record of me listening to the radio. That said, i will include EVERY time i mention baked beans, because i was kind of obsessed.



There seems to be a running trend of writing this time of night. Went and saw Juno with Jess R. yesterday.. Saturday. It’s now Monday but meh. Either more people were staring at me than usual or i was just noticing more because Jess and her family were rather unused to this sort of attention so it was brought to my attention. Jess claims she likes hanging with me because everyone looks. Ah, the blessing of not conforming to the country mentality. Oh, and i got a toy unicorn from the Warehouse. It smells like new Teachers Pets and i’ve named it Nikki, after Nikki Sixx, who not only is good looking and fucking cool but also insired the very existence of this diary.

Those dreams i had yesterday morning were freaky weird. Least i’m finally having my normal types of dreams again- i was kinda unnerved by the lack of brutally insane, vicious murders and the numerous people being devoured by animals. i thin yesterdays body count was at least 50. Mind you, one dream was about a possessed psycho killer who had built up a team of helpers and then he was killed but ended up at sea- leading to more carnage- and then it started again. That dream seemed to go for a lifetime. I just remember this one image of a slightly decomposed little girl with a floral dress lying in this desolate sort of dead farm in the middle of nowhere. There were paddocks of long, golden grass surrounding her and she lay by a well which was about 10 meters from their derelict house. Her parents were dead in there. It had been a sort of massacre. And near the little girl lay a doll. This place was so dry and dusty. So alone. The attack happened at night and the mother was screaming out to the girl to run but she had nowhere to go. There was just so much fear and sadness. The screams pierced the empty night. It was so quiet. Damn it’s good to have my dreams back.


Yet another uneventful day. Overslept as usual. Wanted to get up at 7. Fell asleep round 4:30am so instead woke up round 2pm as usual. Goddammit. I actually haven’t been feeling that bad the last few days. Ok. One day, but i haven’t had a severe episode in six fucking days, man. Hell yeah \m/. It’s 12:21 am and i’m already all tuckered out. I can feel hurt inside of me again. Tomorrow will probably be a shit day. Fuck it, i’m gonna tell mum school don’t start til Thursday (whether it does or doesn’t) so i don’t have to go back til Friday. I think i only have three lessons that day so i ain’t missing much.

I wonder if it’s necrophilia if you fuck a zombie?


I’m so fucking hungry and could really go for some chicken nuggets. So very hungry, I don’t want a pie, 2 min noodles or baked beans or pancakes or Weet-bix. This shit is all i’ve been eating for the last 3 weeks. Christ i’m hungry. When i was on the net down at mums today i was happy and having fun. The second i step back into this room, a wave of melancholy comes over me again. It’s like my body’s trained to recognise that this room holds nothing but my isolation from people and reality.

Fuck it. I’m hungry. I’ll eat anything.

Beans, beans, the magical fruit
Te more you eat, the more you toot
The more you toot the better you feel
So eat your beans for every meal.

I’ve never agreed on any aspect of the tooting but i do feel better having my first meal of the day. Ahh, but so sleepy… but still, hungry (considering i’ve eaten a fork of beans, that’s no real surprise).

Motherfuck!! It feels like there’s razors and needles in my stomach when i move. That was horrible and random. Ahh, everyone else is starting school tomorrow but not me. I think i deserve the extra two days off… i’ve worked hard.

12:05 am

Christ. WTF is going down with my stomach. Damn.

3:35 am

Was out talking to Issac again. In an attempt to find better reception i ventured round the yard and ran into a car or something. My knee is all scabbed and swollen now. Not fucking cool, man. Christ, need a new phone. This is just fucked. I think the stomach thing’s coming back again. I better go to sleep- mum’s coming up at 10.


D1 22/01/08


Woke up an hour ago and didn’t get to sleep until 4. Ah, woe is me. Anyway, i sent Pig another message. What would it take for him to reply? He still has my cd’s so i ain’t gonna let him disappear on me. He replied with “righto”. Fuck i hate this guy. It’s very hard to play nice when this guy is such a dick! Haha, he hates me (ooh, alliteration).

Aw. Apparently my text was rather insulting.. Now he thinks i assume we’re still “going out”. Haha, fuck off! Never were, retard.

Ok this must be written down. The insulting message was “teehee, oh ur such a fucking arsehole. Oh sweety, i just LOVE it when you hold me down. Mmm, oh yes, i’m “so getting off” on it.. Haha, fool”. Turns out he was insulted because i called him a fool.

As odd as this sounds, i kinda miss Clostar obsessing about my “adorable little twinkly toes” Aw, she was so cute.

Trying to kill time before FMR. I feel kind of sick, too, but i haven’t even eaten anything than usual, anyway. I have taken the icing sugar hostage and i do plan on devouring it.

Hey, since Angelspit are relocating to Aus, i wonder if they’ll do shows? Damn, they’d better. When i think about it, i didn’t actually do that bad live band wise. I mean, i saw Thirsty Merc (for the 4th time), Behind Crimson Eyes, Silverchair, Frenzal Rhomb (sorta), Blue Juice (sorta), Deprivation, Daysend, Stone Sour, Sydonia, The Spazzys, Manson, Paul Kelly and a bit from that Beach Boys guy.Mind you, out of all that, only 8 were bands i liked/now like. I swear, Korn better tour this year. Same with W13.

Bad Joke: How did the dentist become a brain surgeon? 
                 The drill slipped.
Yay! I texted it to Haugy and he read it out.


Voot Voot! I finally made it through an entire FMR. With any luck i might be able to go to Metalstock with Piggard. Hey, i’d do anything for music. Iron Maiden are really growing on me. True Story. Fuck, it’s hot in here.

At least with this diary shit i can keep track of my thoughts from each day, which may help me work out why i’m so depressed all of the time. I wonder if that’s why i was happier today? ‘Cause my thoughts were down on paper, so i don’t think about it as much? And i suppose a lot of my depression is loneliness and my inability to truly trust people? So, in a way, this stupid book is my only friend? I mean, this thing is giving me a purpose, something slightly constructive (more than sleeping all day..which i do anyway). My only company is this pen and paper. Damnit, it would be so much better if i could convert my thoughts into songs and poetry. But no, all of my poems sound like juvenile emo, and i’ve never even tried a song as i wouldn’t know what to do?

Actually woke up to my alarm today, but was tired so went back to sleep. Woke up at 2. Didn’t get up til 4. What am i going to do in a week when school starts again? The bread is gone and now i’m hungry again. Fuck, i’m gonna be fat in a years time.

Keep checking Angelspit site- Touring Sydney 28th June with BAAL.

Why is it that i’m so very seldom happy, but those are the days people feel it most necessary to make me feel like shit? Damn that bugs me… And makes me cry… Fucking pussy.

I’ve decided we’re going to see Rambo for my birthday. Fucking love Rambo. That dude is God.

Self mutilation is so boring. You cut, you bleed, you scab, you heal. So meh. It’s more fun when you’re with other people.


I wonder when Australia Day is? Around four hours after writing the above statement. I currently lie here with cuts on my legs and stomach. Just because it’s boring doesn’t mean i can’t still do it. Issac texted. Really wants me to go see Chloe with him.
Just got off the phone with Issac. Damn that kid’s randomly cool. Flipping reception.

NOTE: Better reception in bathroom than standing on table in backyard.



So, i’ve had a few people ask why exactly i still talked to Texas, and this entry kind of says it. When he left my house, he took two cd’s with him, both rarely listened to, and one of which was a burnt copy. So, in any other situation their loss wasn’t exactly going to shatter my world, but in this case, it did. Even thinking about them made me want to scream and throw up. I later worked out that i was so upset about the cd’s, not because i loved them, but because it made sense to be upset about the loss of a physical thing. When i was accidentally assaulted, i was not left bruised and battered. I was walking around, like normal. People were treating me as if nothing had happened. How can you justify such a great feeling of loss and sadness, when nothing was physically taken? When i eventually did have them returned (spoiler alert!!), i felt so much relief, as if now that i had these cd’s, i was allowed to move on.

However, all of that said, part of me was still so desperate for a friend, or really, for anyone to talk to me, that i would willingly engage with this person who i despised, because at least it was somebody. My school friends hadn’t really spoken to me since the holidays started, and were still pissed that i didn’t think Chloe would (or should) live. Funnily enough, i was the only person that would visit her in hospital while she was down there for over a year.

Which leads me to the diary. Sadly, what i have written is true- it was basically all of my social interaction. As well as the lack of friends, i wasn’t leaving the house at all, and as i was staying at my dads, i might see another human every few days. I was still self harming a lot, but nowhere near as much- it had stopped being a daily thing, although, now that i think about it, this could have been helped by the fact i wasn’t at school. I was starting to become stronger.


D1 21/01/08


Stupid phone got wet on the way down to mums so now some buttons don’t work (m,n,o) and bloody ‘w’s pop up everywhere. Fuck, it’s confusing, especially since nobody gets what i’m talking about. Least i get replies now. Slightly less alone. After asking Filthy, Texan Pig and Sarah, the things that they said they hated about me were that i’m “negative, i’m depressed and that i cut”. Well, how am i meant to fix that? Yet to read Sarah’s response  (it’s on Bebo). South Park should be on now.

Just got a text from Susan. Left my calender in a friends car, so it’s still not sent. Xmas was a month ago. Fuck i need a job. I don’t know how much is in my bank account, but DREADS- $500
NEW PHONE- $200, but $40 cash back at post office.
Oh, this is sad. Every few minutes i sit up and check my phone for a message. Am i really that alone?

I wonder if i’m slowly turning agoraphobic? I really have problems with leaving the house. Like, at dads it can take half a day to work up the guts to walk down and buy bread. Sending a letter is worse. Today, before i went out, i spent around two minutes peeking around the partially opened front door. It was almost as bad as the nerves you get before a speech. I just get so panicky. And when i got to the post office to get my credit, i was trembling and my hand was shaking as i passed over the money. I mean, that’s really not helpful. 10:08 and not a single message. Why did i go get credit? From now on i don’t text them unless they text me first.

Poem from a bag with Mashi Maro:

Missing You
You can bardly make a
friend in a year
but you ean lose
one in an bour

Apart from the spelling errors, it’s quite true. 10:12- still no messages. I wonder if Texan Pig will write back? Let’s see… Hey, the m, n, o worked the whole way through. Out of everyone, why does that scum get the normal sounding message?!

10:24 and still no reply. Well, what did i expect? He’s done with me. The only reason i picked him was from rejection. The only reason he picked me was because i was alone and insecure. Why did they all leave me? I made them promise they wouldn’t but they still did. When i was with him i pleaded to them to help me but they just looked and walked off. Rejection again. All i was left with was this creep pushing himself onto me. At least he noted my existence. Those fucking meds make me black out. They make me so complacent. I never wanted any of this.

You will obey me. You will become me. We will control you. Time for your medicine baby.
You don’t get it. You just don’t get it.

From a headstone in Parkes cemetery- In the midst of life we are in death. Welcome to depression, fuckers.

10:42. So far, no reply to the message i just sent Filthy and Sarah. I wonder if they’re ignoring me? 10:43. Still no reply. Maybe my phone’s slipped from the reception spot? Shit, that reminds me. Have to take meds. The reception is fine! WHERE ARE THEY?!! Yes! Sarah texted. She says it was all my fault. Well, how was i meant to get up and leave?! My friends had all left me when they said that they wouldn’t. I couldn’t go out alone. They’d all laugh and play tricks. I can’t be alone. They’d come out to laugh at me. ALWAYS LAUGHING!! WHY MUST I FOREVER BE THE JOKE? Reply… there’s a reply.

Hahaha Texas had no battery. yeah sure. He was avoiding me. He thought he could hide but i found him. I got to him… You can’t escape me.

Ok… I wonder if this diary stuff is turning me mental? I’ll write the texts i just sent Sarah and Texan Pig. Filth just said he’d tried to distract him.. I love Filthy now.

At Freshly Plucked did you see me silently pleading for help when he was pushing himself on me?

Where i was meant to go? They always laugh. Always. Well, what’s so fucking funny?! Their soulless grins.. Like devils in disguise… they’re all after me… out to get me.. they won’t stop ti i’m broken.. then when i die the laughter will be louder… and they’ll talk.. they always talk… i can’t trust anyone…

haha.. And gone where?! I was blacking out, i didn’t know where my ‘friends’ were, because they’d left me when they said they wouldn’t, and i didn’t know anyone around me..i can’t be alone..that’s when they talk… That’s when they come out to get you.. I can’t be alone… Why did you all leave me?!

Dude, i think i’m having a slight breakdown.. hahahaha, why am i shaking? It feels like i’m rotting inside… the maggots will come soon.

Aww, apparently i was lost and Filthy had come to save me… Why did nobody tell me i was lost? When was i found? Now Sarah won’t reply to my messages. Finally…. she replied. NO FUCKING RECEPTION!! Five minutes to send one fucking message!

11:45 all of a sudden everyone’s stopped talking to me again. Why is everything i say wrong? Fucking reception!!! FUCK!

Haha, fucking typical. Texas is watching Scary Movie 4. Who the fuck gets a message from someone who’s freaking out, and continues to watch Scary Movie 4?! What a fucking arsewipe!! Fucking cunt!


Teehee.. it’s so fun to wake up Sarah. It’s so weird how my mood and thought pattern can change so rapidly. Ooh, i think i might have a message from Pig. Aww… Kidding myself- just balance (of course). I have $22.99 left. Yet to redeem my little prize thingy. Oh, and all the buttons are working again. Woot! Which means that new phone has dropped on the list of importance. YAY! OOH! NEW MESSAGE!! PIG? No… Another balance ($22.24). Aww.. He’s never going to reply. It’s already 12:25.. Almost ten minutes ago.. hahah… dad just slid a frankfurt under my door.. Random.

Oh, i fucking hate this guy. 12:34. No reply. Hmm. I gotta come up with a plan to hit him where it hurts. Would it really kill this ipod to actually shuffle songs? I have around 300 songs and hear the same 50 over again. Fuck it’s annoying.


Ok, first up, can we all please acknowledge the fact that a message was left on Bebo?!! My first taste of social media- i never really got into myspace, so Bebo was a pretty big thing, for me. I remember i had all of these quiz answers all over my page for things like “how depressed are you?”, and most of my friends were random goth and emo people who had added me for some reason. Ah, the days when glorifying mental illness and self harm was the key to online popularity.


My old Bebo profile picture. Because Jaffa’s fo’ lyfe, yo.

Anyway, back to the entry. That night i’d found myself in one of those moods where you want to know everything that’s wrong with you so you can fix everything and become a normal, likable person. I only asked three people for their opinions, and for some reason one of them was the person who had accidentally assaulted me. As you can tell, i had some problems with needing peoples approval in order to validate my existence. Everybody just wants to be liked, right?

At this time, leaving the house was a pretty big deal for me- i remember standing at the front door at my dads house for about two hours before getting the courage to go out and walk two blocks to buy milk from the service station. I’ve always been ridiculously anxious and shy, and at the time i was still wearing only black, so being in a small country town of 2000 people, i attracted a fair amount of attention when i left the house. Not only would i get fellow school kids making comments and laughing, i’d attract a few adults, as well. Adding to the real teasing, i was also hearing voices at the time- although i didn’t realise they weren’t real- and they would also tear me to shreds. The main insults were usually that i was fat, ugly and, for some bizarre reason, that i smelled bad. I was also quite paranoid, so anytime somebody laughed when they were nearby, it was obvious they were laughing at me. In some cases, they actually were, but in many others, it had nothing to do with me at all.

The funny thing is, by the time i was 19 my skin had become so thick that i stopped noticing the stares and laughter, both real and imagined. It may not be nice, but i stand by my belief that you have to be very strong in order to look/act different to the general population. I see people complain that they wore an out of the ordinary outfit that day and that people made rude comments about them, and that they were then hurt when someone said “well what did you expect dressed like that?”. I know it sounds like the same victim blaming that gets used for when the same person is assaulted for dressing how they like, but the harsh reality is that you will attract comments, both positive and negative, and to think otherwise is quite naive. I have, however, found that the more confident you are, the less criticism you will get, and the less the criticism you do get hurts. So, wear that pirate outfit with pride. Step out in your Demonias and walk like you own the place. Most importantly, don’t forget to have a sense of humour about it all- people are more likely to treat you positively if you act positively.

I’ve lost most of memory from this period, but i do remember this night. What you can’t see when these entries are typed out, is the change in handwriting when my mood changes. The more, for lack of a better word, crazy i get, the more jagged and sharp my writing becomes. This particular entry had a fair amount of that. While i was sending messages and writing, i was also rapidly rocking back and forth, whilst pulling at my hair and digging my nails into my back, trying to claw out the maggots, that i could feel crawling under my skin eating my rotting flesh.

The obsessive phone checking was sadly a very common occurrence. I had incredibly bad reception on that phone, so i was constantly sending balance checks, just to make sure my phone hadn’t slipped out of range. Day after day i’d try and convince myself that the reason no one had sent me any messages was because my phone was out of reception. I tried to believe that i actually had a whole heap piled up, just waiting for me. The truth was my friends didn’t want to talk to me- i self harmed, was incredibly depressed to the point i stopped talking, and was unpredictably aggressive, so i would often tell them how much i hated the fact that they breathed my air. I’ve lost count of the amount of times i had deleted everyone’s number from my phone, because fuck them, right? So, as you can imagine, i was everybody’s favourite schoolyard chum.

Oh, and i never did get those piercings or dreads.


This was taken at Chloe’s house, and was the last time i saw her before her accident.

D1 20/01/08


Diary 1, Front Cover


Note to self: Change bedsheets.

Goddamnit, why must EVERYTHING remind me of Texan Pig? Naturally enough Manson does, espesh. User Friendly, but so does the smell of my own sweat, which makes for a rather nauseating school holidays, since i never shower. But really, what’s the point? I don’t see anyone, go anywhere or do ANYTHING which requires me to leave the house. Fuck staying at dads is depressing. Now that Clostar’s not here, i have no friends i can hang out with. She really was the only one who would full on go out of their way to make company. At least JJ invited me over, and Jess R and i are hopefully going to see Sweeny Todd, but Sarah and Filthy? Filth? Well i don’t really get him. But Sarah? Fuck. Over dramatic selfish dumbshit. Christ. Ringing Chloe’s dad, sobbing at him to not let her die. Well, that could only cement him mind to keep her alive as a faceless novelty. Are these people that ignorant that they can’t see that being a quadriplegic braindead is the last thing she would want to be? Or are they so blinded by their selfishness that they want to her just to keep their little bubbles. Clostar was my best friend but they think that because i hope she dies that i have no faith. Are they seriously that fucking stupid?! She’s fucked! Ted said he couldn’t “kill her” by turning off the machines. You can’t kill what’s already dead. My poor Clostar. Despite the scars she gave me, she was always there for me and i gave her shit back. No wonder why i’m always the last person people want to talk to. I mean, Jess, Jess and Sarah always have meetups every school holidays. I can’t even get someone to send a fucking text. I can’t really be that bad, can i? These days, the only time people talk to me is if i talk to them first, and i’m really not the talker. Why was i meant to spend my life alone? It’s so sad. The second i get a message my heart lifts and i actually get excited over the prospect that someone cares enough to waste 25c on me, but no. It’s always just my balance, which i always forget i had sent for earlier.

Sarah reminds me of Texas. Both constantly saying how much they “love” me, to my face, but both with hidden agendas. Texas did it til i lowered my guard enough to be complacent enough to let him hold me down, and force me to do stuff while he fucked me. So, what’s Sarah’s agenda? I truly doubt she’s intelligent enough (although, no doubt as desperate) to come up with something as sinister as that. Perhaps it’s her last desperate attempt at keeping a hold of whatever shreds of her childhood she is able to still grasp at? Fuck, i don’t know. As if she cares of days of innocence. She’s let more of the ’emo’ stereotype embed itself into her than she’d care to admit. Perhaps that’s why she doesn’t actually let herself be victimised, but just plays the victim. And, of course, EVERYONE has to know. Why else would you hide under a desk and sulk where everyone knows you’re there? To get everyone to ask “what’s wrong, are you alright?”, of course. And if you ever comment on her dramatic, attention seeking, highly inappropriate behaviour all you will get is more sulking, followed by shit like “oh i know, i’m such a selfish fake. Oh i’m so useless. My mum hates me. I didn’t get to go anywhere, except to the movies and into town with anyone i want, except you, oh woe is me”. Jesus Christ. Grow the fuck up! Everyone has problems at home in childhood and teen years! Ah, fuck it. I’m too lonely, tired and depressed. I’m going to sleep.


So, for a first entry i guess it wasn’t the worst. It was actually written as a two page wall of text, but it drove me nuts typing it out, so i split it down. Now, introductions, since everything mentioned here is going to pop up quite a lot. I’ll probably explain all of this in entries further down the track, but it’s always nice to know what’s going on before the big reveal. I mean, who didn’t skip to the middle and end of their Harry Potter books when they first got them, just to see if you could figure out what the characters were doing, just a little faster?

This was written at the end of the school Summer holidays, which from memory, was about five weeks. Friends tended to disappear every school holidays, and as my mum couldn’t put up with me, i spent the majority of it staying at my dads house. Despite the fact that when i was at my mums we’d fight every day, i actually preferred staying there for the sole fact she had a phone line, which meant she had the internet, albeit rather slow. My dad didn’t like me using the phone or internet, so he disconnected the line, and wouldn’t reconnect it until about three weeks after i’d moved out of home. Because of this, my isolation got the better of me pretty quickly, and so i would spend 22 hours in bed every day, and usually wouldn’t shower for weeks. 

It was during this time i was still mentally recovering from being sexually assaulted by a boy, my age, who called himself Texas, a name which he adopted after living there for a few years. This currently stands as the biggest mess i have put myself in, which will hopefully continue to stay that way until i am well and truly buried. I was pretty messed up mentally at the time, and was dissociating and blacking out for increasingly large amounts of time. Unfortunately for me, this was when i met and conversed with this young man, and through a series of mental blunders on my behalf, ended up a little more damaged from the effort. I still have no idea when it happened, and how long we’d talked to each other prior. All really know is that it managed to ruin Christmas, and had me writing “whore” and “liar” over and over on some scrap paper, as it hit midnight on New Years Eve. There’s nothing quite like having your latest musical acquisition,  Emilie Autumn, blasting through your ipod, and screaming about lost innocence, if only to cover up the bangs and cheers of your family outside as they watch the fireworks. 

The only good thing about being a suicidal cutter girl, is that people don’t notice any change in mood when you’ve been raped. I already wore all black and had panda eyes- how could i possibly look any sadder?

Chloe, or Clostar, was a friend i’d had since i was eight or nine. Just prior to the New Year she’d lived with myself and my mum for nine weeks, until she’d found herself a job and a flat of her own. She moved into her own place perhaps a month or so before Christmas, and she’d started to get her life together. Then, on New Years Eve, she was drunk and like most seventeen year olds, assumed she was invincible. A fall from the roof of a two story building proved her quite wrong. 

I was in Sydney at the time of her accident, so i was the only one of her friends able to visit her in hospital a few days after her fall- both legs and her arm were in casts, she had broken her neck and fractured her skull and she was very bruised and swollen. There were tubes sticking out of pretty much everywhere- including the top of her skull, which had a piece removed to alleviate the pressure due to the swelling of her brain. At the time, the doctors prognosis was that she would probably be severely brain damaged and quadriplegic if she managed to survive once the ventilator was switched off. The girl i knew at the time, would have begged to have the machines turned off and for that to be that. And i would have agreed.

I suppose, on a happy note, she did survive. She is now confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, but is able to move her arms and fingers. She is also now blind in one eye, and did become partially brain damaged. We no longer talk, but she seems happy enough in her own flat, painting canvases and then gluing buttons to them.

On a related note, i was able to tell my mother that if i was ever in the same situation, i want her to turn off the machines, because this is not a life i would ever want to lead.


Chloe and Myself, late ’07

Life is not like Gloomy Sunday

So, I’m not really sure if anyone will ever read this, but I’ve started a little project here. Out of a deep fear of losing my treasured diaries – which I began to write when I was sixteen – I have decided to re-write and post them online. Internet is forever, right? 

As well as posting the written words from my teenage self, which includes my weird obsession with music, and lots and LOTS of teen angst, I will be annotating the posts, as well as posting relevant pictures.

Now, to give you a brief rundown of what will be included…

The first entry was written a few months after being sexually assaulted, and half a year after two suicide attempts – basically, consider this is a trigger warning. It’s been a long time since I’ve read these words, so I’m not sure how much detail I give into these events, but I thought I would give a warning just in case. It also chronicles my gradual diagnosis of my mental illness, so you can also expect a lot of sad, paranoid and occasionally raw posts.

Lastly, I would like to say that through all this pain, all of this suffering, I managed to come through to the other side. There is light at the end of the tunnel; you just have to try your best and believe in yourself. That’s what got me through. I reached a point when I was seventeen and decided that I was no longer going to be a victim of people (I was constantly bullied by friends and peers alike), but more importantly, I was no longer going to be a victim of my past. It was then that I started to believe that I could overcome the darkness and be strong. 

Be a fighter. Be a warrior.

*deep breath* Here goes…