| Grand Illusion. |
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Time: 12:39am.
I feel as if I have made such a mess of my life in the past week, like I have screwed everything up. Let's start with last Saturday night, I went out with the boys and Jamie from work, Chris, Sam and Joe. It was okay, not as good as it was when we went out a couple of weeks before. I got sulky as I got drunk, rather then in the mood to party, and then I started to whinge, which is awful. Just after five o'clock Sunday morning we all went back to Dean's yards to crash for a couple of hours before starting work again Sunday morning, Chris in he's car, Sam and Jamie in Jamie's car, while Joe and I in he's caravan. On the way back to the yards, in the back seats of Chris' car I was snuggled into Joe, and the couple of weeks before I had stated that if he didn't have a missus that I would totally root him, so typically once everybody knew that I spent the night in the caravan with Joe, they all assumed that I rooted him, and I guess I let them believe that, but I don't know why. I did not root Joe, not really. He wanted to, and it took me by surprise, but I said "let's just sleep." We didn't just sleep though, he wanted "a play" as he worded it, and I let him, I let him undo my belt and bra, pull down my jeans and knickers, play with my boobs and between my legs, and the whole time I wished for it to be over, I felt yuck. My body started to shake, like a wild animal trapped, and Joe pointed that out, he asked me why am I shaking, but I flogged the excuse that it was just the cold, I was cold. It has been years since my body reacted like that though. I usually shut down physically when I'm with a bloke I don't like or don't really want to be fucking, but I don't usually go into shock or whatever it is like that, I thought that was one thing I had learnt how to hide it. Time: 2:04am. I just put the needle in my arm again, with nothing even in it, sadly. I wish I had some Ice, or Goey, or I would even settle for a bong, but I have nothing seems my contacts haven't come through. The reason though, I am so agitated, stressed, and I needed a release, I needed to do something, so I just stuck a needle in my arm, for the sake of it, to see if I could still do it, to distract myself from all the other bull shit, and as a person who is actually no good with needles, that alone was enough to set off a bit of adrenalin, it worked a little bit as a distraction. I am so fucked, true. I haven't told you all that I have been stressed about... One aspect, one that I have not been able to tell anyone about, a couple of weeks ago I changed the name on one of my Facebook pages to Dyke Pride, not realising that it is an account that I have messaged Jane off in the past, a long time ago in the past. Anyway, I guess Jane must have gone back through her old messages or something and seen the name change, so the other night when I open Facebook I find a message from her saying "Dyke Pride? Care to comment?" That message sent me into hysterics, sort of, all I could say was "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I have not responded. It has really stressed me out. She is the last person I want seeing or knowing something like that. Fuck, I really wish I had some Ice... Time: 3:00am. I was just on the Open Diary home page and saw this "Theme Of The Week" thing. This one is asking if you would've had different parents given the choice and why? So here I am thinking about it, and I'm thinking, well I never grew up with my Father, but even if I had I hardly believe he would have been a good Father, then there is my Mother, her I only spent thirteen odd years with, and in that time, no, no she was not a good parent, not at all, after all she dragged us all over the Country side, constantly moving and changing schools, she never supported us in schooling but then got mad when we fell behind and made out that it was all our fault, that we were just bad kids, she bought all sorts of men into our home, many of them violent or inappropriate, she tried to commit suicide right under our noses on different occasions and turned a blind eye when we really could have done with her help or protection. But despite all that, would I ask for a different parent? Sometimes, when I'm feeling low, when life seems to hard, when I am over whelmed and tired, then I blame it on my past, on being faced with far to much real harsh life to young, then yes, I wished I could've changed parents, had someone just a little more concerned and protective, someone who could have taught me how to have self respect, dignity and simply be a well adjusted young person, but then there are other times, times when I feel good, I feel strong, and I feel proud of the fact that I have faced so much that many people my age have not and I have survived it, all on my own, and at times like that I tend to claim that I am glad of the way I was raised, as it built me up rather then becoming a dependant and weak person as some I know.
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