I don't really know what this is even about
10.12.05, 3:45 pm

I really apologise for the amount of entries that I�m posting at the moment.

Not a great deal is new to be honest. I�m still with cystitis, have vague sinus pains and get the feeling that I�m getting hormonal. I thought I�d already had my week of hormones the other week, but my body must be a little screwed as I�ve just come off the Pill, and has decided to give me another load of hormones. THANKS.

Hormones always seem to make me thoughtful, as well as kind've low. Hypno says that that�s my main problem: that I think too much. It must be where the anxiety gig�s come from. I�d like to point out that the anxiety gig isn�t really an anxiety gig� I don�t sit around for hours with my heart pounding and being a general mess. It�s more like moments where I suddenly panic, and have to calm myself down again, which usually only takes about half a minute. I mean I did have a few bad nights last Easter, and thank GOD Em was there, to sit with me and hold my hand and say reassuring things. The problem�s more there in the background; it doesn�t rule my life in the slightest. I just get so frustrated with it, and then I get angry with myself for allowing myself to have it. I beat myself up way too often� it�s probably due to the way my family is.

Sometimes I worry about my friends finding this journal � Lisa reads it, but that�s okay because I let her, as she�s special. When I was about 16 my dad discovered it and read it for a while, and would then email bits of it to his then-girlfriend, usually the bits about her. I couldn�t mention it to him, because after suspecting he was reading it I got into his inbox and read the offending emails, which is obviously an invasion of his privacy. I felt so betrayed by it all, absolutely floored. In fact, thinking about it now is making me angry even now. Anyway. He doesn�t read it anymore (and I would completely implode if he did), and I decided a while back to write this thing as though nobody I know reads it. There�s a lot of deep scary stuff me-wise in here, between all the bollocks, and I�ve become rally quite fond of my journal. A place to sort out all my endless bloody thoughts, I guess. There�s still stuff I haven�t managed to write about yet though, bad stuff that I�ve done that I�m too ashamed of to write about. I guess that�s the same for everyone though.

Man, hormones make me both really low and ramble on for too long. Writing about my dad has depressed me slightly. I love him a lot, don�t get me wrong, but there are times that I wish he were better at being a dad. God, that looks awful written down. I think he feels all of the things that a dad should, but he�s just rubbish at expressing them. After Bernie died he became very depressed, and I went home from Uni every weekend to stay with him. He�d just sit and stare at the telly for hours, not even taking it in, and I�d have no idea what to say to him because we don�t do affection or sympathy or compassion or whatever it is you call it. We just get on with things, and we don�t talk about it. Any of it. I�d cook him meals and clean the house and sit in front of the telly with him because I didn�t know what else to do. I sometimes worried that he�d start considering suicide. I guess normally when people die families all rally round and cry together and talk about the person who�s died and have lots of hugs. I revised for my exams, went back to Uni, pushed it out of my head and got drunk, came home at the weekends and hated myself for not wanting to go home, because I had no idea what to do or what to say.

I think I was kind�ve affection starved after my mum died, and that that�s the reason I enjoy being around people so much. Not too much though, because then I get overloaded and have to be by myself otherwise I�ll end up eating someone. I can�t really handle compliments either, because I always doubt that they�re true. God sorry, this entry has no direction at all and has been incredibly me me me based. I seem to be writing a lot about my past recently, maybe as an attempt to get it out of my system, get it into the open and to see how I actually feel. Oh god, shut up.

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