Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

I would start this with the words "as you all know", but the thing is you don't know. (Also, I doubt that there is a "you" wink I haven't posted on here in almost a year, and even then all I posted were poems so I'm not quite sure how anyone would be able to know anything about me through them. Although the feeling were somewhat there last year when I posted the poems, it had not. Okay, so this is going to be somewhat of a story. Actually, that's exactly what it's gonna be. When I started thinking of writing all of this down it was only one or two sentences, but now I want to tell the whole thing. Yes it is true (it's mine) (and not that anyone is asking if it's true. I'm just adding that incase anyone ever reads this and wonders).

Okay so now that I'm starting I'm not quite sure where to start it from. So I suppose I'll start with the facts. My name is Alicia. I'm 14 (15 when school starts) and 6"3 (which of course means that I've always stood out in crowds). I have a phobia of spiders, heights (and yes, I do know that that's ironic) and commitment. And I'm gonna tell you my "life-but-not-actually-life-just-approxamitly-the-last-year-of-my-life-with-little-bits-from-earlier-to-help-things-make-sense" because I feel like telling someone.

Last year, I started highschool. I ended up going to a school that only two of my friends were going to (which is made worse by the fact that they were the only two that I knew that went there and we ended up with no classes together). Needless to say, I ended up loosing the people that I had been friends with all of my life and had to find new ones.

For normal people, finding new friends isn't that hard. It is for me though. I'm actually quite terrible at it. When I'm around people that I'm comfortable with I'm outgoing, but people that I've never met before? Not even close. I swear, I think I blushed around 20 times just in the first two days. Not even at things that people said. Just because I was so nervous.

I'm always scared of what people think/will think. Not even of them judging me. Just them thinking of me. Me passing into their brain. And when you're well over six feet tall, the chance of that happening is almost 100%. I hate walking down the hallway and hearing people say, in what they must think is a whisper that only their friend can hear, "She's so tall..."

Whatever. So I lost all my friends and had to attempt to make new ones. "Making new friends" translates to "Being friends with whoever seems to want to be friends" in my brain. So I guess I did make a couple friends. Yeah, I know I did. The problem was that I was loosing relationships with people that had started when we were 2. How could I ever trust anyone that I had just met as much as someone whom I had known for that long? I didn't and those first months were, most likely, the most lonely months in my -admittedly not that long- life.

I only remember one important thing happening at the beginning of the year, but it was pretty important as it is both the marker of the beginning of the worse point in my life and my only regret (I had others, but I got over them). It was my friends 14th birthday party. Her birthday had actually been in the summer but everyone had been away at that time so she was celebrating it mid-september. At that time, she was dating my ex. Yes I know, what a great friend she was (if you're wondering, no, she wasn't one of the people that I was too sad about loosing...that b***h). Anyways, since I don't remember what else happened that night, I'm just going to cut straight to it. I made out with a girl. More than made out, she felt me up...for a good amount of time... Looking back on it now I kinda think it was because of my friend and my ex. Seeing them together... I think that I wasn't actually over him. I'm never over him. But more on that later. The main point, a bi girl tried to get with me and I let her because I can't make a choice. God. I never told anyone you know? She told some of my friends (the ones that had gone to the school that she was at) and they asked me if it was true and I lied my pants off. I'm a good liar. I think that it's just that I didn't want to tell anyone because that would be admitting that it happened. Even now, 9.5 months after it happened, I can't tell anyone. I've come to terms with it. It's fine. I can't change it. Really all I've done it erased it from my memory. It can't hurt me if it never happened. And it didn't. It didn't. It didn't.

So since I'm drawing a blank on any other events that happened between september and november (I'm bad at remembering things like that...when something happens. I'll remember the emotion just not when I felt it/what specific occurrence made me feel it) I'll just skip right to november 11th. Remembrance day.

So I guess technically this is when it all started. It could have been anything though. Anything, any time, any place. But it wasn't. It was at school, on november 11th (2010), and it was the fake poppies.

At my old school, every remembrance day people would do that trick with the pin that comes with the poppies. The one where you get the pin through the dead skin on the first couple layers of your fingertips. It looks really funny and it doesn't hurt. All it is is dead skin. Well, back then that was all it was. Last year, I found it so fun to do that with the pin that I ended up doing it all day. And all day after school. And all day after the next day of school.

The problem ended up being that I had no more dead skin on my fingertips after awhile. I never actually noticed this problem until later. I never noticed until I looked at my fingertips and saw that one had become raw. Not really that bloody, but that's because putting a pin through your fingertip, as it turns out, doesn't produce that much blood.

I forget what kind of mindset I had during this time. Like I said, I was lonely. I'm pretty sure I was also painful. Before november I mean. From somewhere around that time I have a memory of me trying to fall asleep. I remember lying in bed and feeling like I was so heavy (I was trying to use that to make me feel more tired). Feeling like the entire world was crushing down on me and I wanted it to. Feeling like I was being held down.

Depression. Atleast I think that may have been what it was. I don't know. Depression runs in my family. My mom is depressed. My grandpa and my aunt were depressed (before they died I mean). I think that this fact is going to haunt me greatly once I get older. I mean, if I think it's bad now, just think about how it's going to be when I get older.

(That's another thing...about my grandpa and aunt dying I mean. I never cried at their funeral. Sometimes I tell people that I'm like a robot. I don't think they take me seriously. I am though. Like a robot I mean. I don't really feel that much emotion. Feel that much of anything actually. I never cried at my two of my closest relatives funerals. I go outside in the winter with no coat on because I don't feel that cold (and I live in Canada. I will assure you, the temperatures in winter are cold). I'm beginning to think that my sense of pain is also dulled. I don't know why I'm like this. I just am. I like it better like this. Not feeling is better than feeling.)

But again. November. Feelings of loneliness and depression. And then a trigger. Or, more specifically, a trigger that started my self-harming.

I had thought about it alot before. What it would be like to do it mostly. I also thought about dying. But not what it would be like to die. I cared more about escaping feeling like how I did. And I found a part-time escape through self-harm. It made me temporarily forget about the hurt inside by forcing me to focus on the hurt outside. I remember trying to figure out the reasons I liked it so much. I can't remember everything but the one I can really remember is release. It felt like all of my troubles were gone. I loved it.

Eventually, I also started to like alcohol. Not like, getting drunk. Just enough that I stopped hurting. It's funny...I remember my sister having a friend over one night...and her coming into my room and offering my a bit of the stuff that she had. It was only a bit of beer and half a shot of vodka I think. I remember her remarking on how fast I drank it. It's odd...I didn't notice that. I thought that it was normal. That once again shows how much I don't understand people. In any case, that was the beginning of that. I drank almost every friday after that. Friday only because I very well couldn't on a school night. I haven't mentioned yet but I'm a nerd. Not a dorky nerd, but a nerd in the school-has-always-been-really-easy-for-me/I'm-gifted-so-I-learn-stuff-faster way. (also another reason I find it hard to make friends)

So yeah. That's pretty much how things were from November till the end of January. I ended up taking apart one of my dad's razors (let me tell you...getting it apart was not easy). I continued to cut my fingertips because it seemed like the most ideal place to me:
1. It's on my hand and so it hurts more. I did also start cutting my side...but it didn't hurt as much..so I didn't like it as much.
2. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to hide your fingertips. No one ever really sees them. I would never have been able to cut my wrists as I never wore bracelets (and I didn't want to start since they always got on my nerves) and I go to a school with uniform. The only thing that would cover my wrists would be the sweater and I couldn't wear that everyday. We also have a long sleeve shirt but because of my tallness the sleeves are about an inch too short for me so I have to pull them up or they look funny.

That was life. And then one day after school, one of my friends (my ex that I mentioned earlier-albeit my only ex) came over to visit me. He had went to a different school too, but he came to visit the people that had gone to different school every once and awhile. Looking back on it now I think he was sad that he was loosing people the same way that I was sad I was loosing everyone. Anyways, he came over and we talked for a bit and ended up "Hooking up" as we kids call it these days. Long story short, I started "dealing" with him.

He was sweet and kind and everything amazing. He was cool and somewhat popular and somewhat metro-sexual (if you don't know what it is, look it up). He always feared that you would stop liking him and so it always happened. From afar he seemed impenetrable but up close you could see that he had deep hurts too and he had a low self-esteem (although there was definitely no need for one) and he had commitment problems (most likely caused by the semi-recent divorce of his parents) and he was human. And he loved me. And I loved him. And then I stopped loving him. It's what happens.

But anyways. The day was January 25th, 2011. That was the day that marked the beginning of the happiest time of my -admittedly- short life.


And I would continue but it's currently 3 in the morning and I've been writing for almost 2 hours now and I feel like this is much too long and I still have to pack my bag because I'm going up north tomorrow because school it out and that's what we always do. And I'm getting all nervous about posting it because of the I'm-scared-of-what-you'll-think even though there isn't anything that you could think that would be good. But it's all okay because I pretend like you don't exist like I pretend like my memories don't exist.

I will finish this later. Hopefully soon because I want to be able to remember these things for when I get older. Plus I'm only half-way through. And I haven't even gotten to the actual reason that I started writing this all out. Let's hope I don't forget.