Dear me, well my mind actually - 6th

Dear me or my head rather…

I think I need a break. I mean a break where I am isolated - or indeed, where I am with my boyfriend and my boyfriend alone for a few hours, day’s maybe? But it would never be approved. Not by my 'Parents'. Do I want to call them that anymore? You should know the answer to that better than me - you are, after all, my head. My mind. My dead centre to more exact.

Ivor and Paula. That sounds better. But it also makes them nothing but people who are looking after me now. Looking after me sounds childish. I don't want looking after - I want out. I want to be free.

But I don't want the streets. Or the brokenness. Sounds a bit selfish - I know - but can't I be selfish? Can't I just want them there to give me the money when I do my chores or when I do my chores plus my sisters? Wait! I haven't been getting paid from them at all lately. Only on holidays where I got my wallet stolen and the 'loaned' me money and gave Emma money when she ran out and told her not to bother paying back. Just because I work - yeah. 3 and a half ours a week. For a tenner. Great. I can totally pay them back.

That is 60 euro they won’t see again. Not from me anyway.

I'm a little jealous of my sister - I admit. She gets everywhere; she gets money handed to her on a plate and doesn't do any chores. When I critise this all I get is ' Shut up Chloe! Just because you’re fuckin jealous of her! Don't be so jealous!' - Fuckin straight I'm jealous. I have been working for my money all my life - one way or another. Everything I own, I bought my self through saving up. So, why does she get treated completely different? Just because she eats like a fuckin pig. I'll say it! I like the fact she is fatter than me - she looks leaner and better than I did when I was her size. She is their golden girl, so fuck them!

I just ruined their perfect bubble. Or was it Box? Yeah, they said box. Not bubble. Bubble, to me, just sounds nicer and pleasanter.

I hate the fact that I might turn into my parents, Brain. Can't you make that stop? Don't you understand by now that the self harm, the smoking, the attempted drinking, the pill popping, the starving, the excessive exercising and the constant scratching is because I want to hurt. Because, perhaps, I want to hurt so bad I die from it.

Selfish Bitch. Yeah. I am. Perhaps a little insane. Maybe I belong in an Asylum. A real one.
I feel the need to call someone now. Not Alex. I don't want to worry him. Not Geo. We only made up. Nor Anne. I'm still pissed at her.
James? No. He doesn't care and wouldn't help much. Sam? Maybe it’s the same deal with him. I'm not sure.

I have no one really. Complete strangers yes, but no one close who I can really open up to. Maybe closeness doesn't mix with opening up. I actually don't know.

Sympathy. Yeah, that’s what I want. Again. Selfish. But maybe sympathy, the one thing I actually despise, will teach me to shut up and bottle up. Here I go again. Little miss self destructive.

"Chloe. Stop attention seeking." Tsk. Attention? What the fuck? If anything I want to disappear - from Emma, Ivor and Paula. Mostly the later two. Maybe from the world? Possibly.

Not from Alex, his family or his friends. Or Geo's friend’s ether- they have welcomed me to their circle. They seem rough, tired. Perhaps weary and I know Alex's group drink and smoke. Not just fags ether might I add.

I can already see a pattern. Rich kids, middle class kids. All the way to the poor kids. All of us. Turning to the rails or off them rather. Why? Why are we so destructive? Child abuse? Sexual abuse? - Maybe, but mostly no.

We have hatred. To the world and the people in it and we can see no where to go but to ourselves. That’s what you’re telling me now, brain, and you could keep going all night.

I wish I had insomnia. I wouldn't have to dream as often. Because there’s nothing in my dreams for me anymore. Not most of the time any way. There is the occasional one I wish that I never left behind.

Alas. It is not to be I am afriad.Possibly my writing of 'Dear' letters will cease after this - or maybe they will just be to those outside my own head. Who knows? But for tonight - I think I am finished. At least, I hope I am.

Because tonight - I just might have lost all will to live.