?

Log in

No account? Create an account
katy.
07 June 2011 @ 12:13 pm
 last night I dreamed of violent wars between children who killed and tortured each other, zombies, more torture, orphaned joeys in their dead mothers' pouches, and lots more of the children.

my brain is messed.
 
 
katy.
25 April 2011 @ 01:00 pm
this is going to sound absurd, but I just pulled up my sleeves and my arms were covered with white and red scars.

well, duh. but it was so weird. it was like they were someone else's arms. and I love them, and I love my scars, it was just weird.

in other thoughts, GO FIND DERREN BROWN ON YOUTUBE. his stuff is AMAZING. incredible.

here's a starting point:

mind reading - which he doesn't believe in

how to steal someone's wallet just by asking

a cat lover kills a kitten (okay, not really - I spent half the video squeeing over the cute kitty! watch the part two, in the sidebar - it only goes for a few more minutes
 
 
soul feels:: KITTENS!
soul hears:: Tori Amos - Spark | Powered by Last.fm
 
 
 
 
katy.
08 April 2011 @ 12:20 pm
I GOT A HUNDRED FUCKING PERCENT ON MY MATHS PROJECT! You have no idea how major this is. It's all these calculations that depend on other calculations and if you get one wrong everything is wrong. You have to explain theorems and combine matrices with pythagoras and it's not hard just complex. AND I GOT FULL MARKS! Man, I am on cloud 9. I have more study today that I WANT to do. And then Jem and I will go out and do something tonight. Don't know what, don't care, just want fun!
 
 
soul location:: uni
soul feels:: ecstatic
 
 
 
katy.
31 December 2010 @ 08:49 pm
you are standing there, so beautiful. shivering, standing, so singular and solid and real. have they told you?


where is the girl? how am i to know? how am i? i really don't know these things, you know, you should ask someone who knows, someone who cares.

i was born in nineteen eighty-seven. eighty-seven.


do you know how angry I am? how violent? ninety percent of the scars on my body come from my own anger. rage. violence. everything i channel into myself, like a reverse-cycle gone wrong. i need it - i cannot express it. paint the concrete with others' blood? the work of a psychopath, a sociopath. i am neither - some may disagree.

the work i have done on my body is far more expressive of my personality than any smile or photo or word. it is dark, i suppose, but it is also light.

any person who has ever met me would not see this, i do not think; i am "bubbly" and "friendly" and "lovely". i am not violent and vindictive and destructive. my arms seem to say something else about me, something which is not true. perhaps it is sadness - perhaps people like to think that. and i would not say i was not sad. but the force driving the deepest, widest scars was utter rage. anger. hate. destruction.

that is what makes me happy - the destruction of my own body. it is not about pain - it is about the beauty that can be brought about by destruction. by watching a body grow sicker and more scar, creating a beautiful, hideous work of art out of loathing and hatred. it's beautiful.

i am angered easily; i feel rage easily. perhaps it is merely a facet of fear - this is quite easily the case - but it manifests in anger and this is what i am talking about.


i'm rather well, at the moment, but this rage rarely leaves. that's why blades helped - i could let it out and feel the release. now, what else is there? bruises with solid objects? crass and non-permanent. i'd be disappointed with myself.

work tomorrow - must sleep. sleep deprivation is a good way to hurt myself, but i actually am trying to hold a life together, so i endeavour to keep my job, which i rather like.
 
 
soul hears:: blue lips, blue veins
 
 
 
katy.
27 December 2009 @ 11:54 pm
 WHERE THE FUCK DID I GO?










this is a big problem and it scares me like few things do except physical pain & suffocation.
 
 
 
katy.
**self-harm trigger warning**

Sometimes something wells up inside of me and i feel like going into a razor-wielding frenzy on my body; a bathtub full of blood and me cold and spattered in red. I don't know what sets it off, but it feels like something that hurts so much i won't let myself think about it.

I don't like the lack of control; i take valium everywhere in my wallet just in case. I'm on my way to the city and it's burning in my legs - i'm contemplating taking something except that it seems utterly ridiculous. I'll soon be busy and forget, i just need to get to forgetting.
Tags:
 
 
soul feels:: sorry
soul hears:: eminem