Tears in Heaven

Would you know my name

If I saw you in heaven?

Would it be the same

If I saw you in heaven?

 

I must be strong

And carry on,

'Cause I know I don't belong

Here in heaven.

 

Would you hold my hand

If I saw you in heaven?

Would you help me stand

If I saw you in heaven?

 

I'll find my way

Through night and day,

'Cause I know I just can't stay

Here in heaven.

 

Time can bring you down,

Time can bend your knees.

Time can break your heart,

Have you begging please, begging please.

 

Beyond the door,

There's peace I'm sure,

And I know there'll be no more

Tears in heaven.

 

Would you know my name

If I saw you in heaven?

Would it be the same

If I saw you in heaven?

 

I must be strong

And carry on,

'Cause I know I don't belong

Here in heaven.

 

'Cause I know I don't belong

Here in heaven.

dark

I don't like the night. There is nothing beautiful about it any more. It's a memory and a fear. He's a monster. I want to hide. I can't escape. I'm lost and I can't go back. I'm in my own little Hell. My Hell is to walk outside at night, and go back to a dark empty room without windows, where I can think.

There is a part I can't tell. About the dark I know well.

then I was young and unafraid

  After a gong show of a first day of school, I believe I've been well. I've developed a habit of picking at the skin on my fingers, though. People are quite unimpressed. Well, whatever. It's audition time for Musical Theater, and that means I've been going through book after book finding perfect audition songs. But at a meeting today, they said it could just be any song (I told my teacher I will now sing him death metal for my audition). I went to Long&McQuade today and purchased The Singer's Musical Theatre Anthology (Mezzo-Sproano/Belter), to work on songs that fit my voice - either that, or I'd sing too high a song, or a Man song. It had the song I wanted, and other songs that I actually knew, so that was good.

  I was working on other choral stuff when I decided to try some Les Misérables. I've read the book so many times, even though he said it's a dry read and would never read it. Well, I sight read the song I've Dreamed a Dream (I'd only heard it once), and, the lyrics sort of got to me. It was pretty. I actually understood what she was saying (besides that fact that I already knew because of the book). I went on the computer to hear the Original Broadway version. All I can say is - I read the lyrics, I listened to her voice -I cried. It didn't go over well for me. Too much of the past...

"...He slept a summer by my side
He filled my dreams with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came

And still I dream he'd come to me
That we would live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be
So different from the hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed."

if only I'd retain this

Make peace with the past but retain it in sight, a reminder of where you have been. 

Paintings of yesterday do ease the way to choices with peace therein.

aaangst

I'm an angsty teenager.

I don't know right from wrong.

I'm over-sad, or over-happy; over-emotional.

Oh-- yeah, this isn't some sort of poetry.

But, doesn't it look more poetic when I write once sentence per line?

Yes.

Or, no.

I lie, far much more than I should.

I've found simple way of leaving my past.

One, leaving my school.

That worked.

But this time, I'm stuck.

I could leave again, but then I have to explain why.

Why?

Why is one thing literally killing me?

I want to act it all out, the rest of my life.

I'll mock.

I'll just fake it.

waiting

I had two attacks today. Saw somebody at the mall. A person I'd really not rather see for the rest of my life. Well, there's panic attack #1. I sat on a chair and trembled for 20 minutes. I just turned my music louder. Hoping the Ska would drown out all the other thoughts. Continued walking around the mall. A distressed friend texts me. We talk. She tells me something, something that - that is THE biggest trigger. (But again, I won't say, for my sanity). Panic attack #2. I told her if she chose to do... that... again. Well;

"I'm not going to talk to you. You're out of my life. I'm sorry, but that's how it is, it's how I've been affected. I need to save myself"

I gave her the speech that... well, it's what he said to me.

I've been trying to be as non-specific as possible for the last few months. I'm not sure she really got the big picture. I think nobody does. They just know that that is a trigger somehow. I was walking home, in tears. Switched to Gimme Gimme (from Thoroughly Modern Millie) on loop (It helped me a while back. I just want what Millie wants.). I ignored the first text for five minutes, then replied "Sorry". We talked after, via text still. She promised me not to ever again. I hate promises. 

I don't trust anyone. I don't trust myself. I don't believe in promises; they will always break. Love? Not a chance. Life? I'll shrug it off. I'm a fucking negative person.

... I've realized that when I'm talking about moments of remembering, I start thinking about them again, thus putting my in a bad state again.

School, please start sooner. I can't even wait these next two days. I need you now. I need to concentrate on one thing. I don't want to be this. But I do. I'd like to think about the past, thus forcing myself to be sad. I don't want to see, or hear something to put me there. Just... Jesus fuck. I'd prefer being happy. I want to erase so much of my past. The past doesn't build the future. Not a stronger one. It weakens mine. And I'll come out of this stronger? I don't think so. I'll be out of your way before you know it...

I'm just waiting for my body to catch up...

no need to worry though

Psychiatrist appointment yesterday, and a Doctor appointment today. They both know I'm 'better'. I don't have to see either of them for a least a month. And that makes me happy.

But lately, my memory has been worse. I'm stuck in the past, and those little moments are ruining me. I was in the shower today (tmi?) and I suddenly remember a, letter I got, I slipped, collapsing, and started crying. I could've been knocked unconscious, I hit my head pretty hard. But that's how bad it is. I almost, want this. I want to be in this state of agony. I want to remember the life I lost. How I can't imagine a future. I want this. Everything I can think of reminds me of... somehow. I like being like this; near panic and tears, shaking. I have the sick feeling. It's not like, I want to die. I'm forcing myself to be like this. I stared at... a name for not even 30 seconds, and I started shaking. Since I can't become immune to it, I might as well just force myself to look. I won't say the name. I shouldn't've said there was a name. It's just a trigger, there are many more of those. But this is the biggest trigger of them all...

I brutalized my legs a month or so earlier. It was something I missed (I even bought a new knife for the occasion; right after what was said and done and finalized and made official). And that memory was a trigger. (A/N: And now I'm remembering it. That sick feeling is starting up. I'm dizzy. All I have are mental images. I can't take it anymore.) I should've gotten stitches for them, but meh. I didn't even tell my parents until they saw, and they're just making sure I tell them next time [which I won't]. I wear shorts, and you see these five, huge, dark purple scars on my legs. I keep telling myself it's so I don't do it again, because I I know the damage. But there is no damage done. Not on anyone else. Not even on me. Because I don't give a shit. I get to parade around in public with these giant scars on my shins and a shit-load of cuts on my thighs. Fuck it.

I like being happy. It's a nice thing. But my medicine just gives up at certain times - a lot of certain times - and I'm fine with that as well.

No one knows. It's a silent memory. 

______________

I've lost a noticeable amount of weight apparently. My friend and I were shopping, and we went into a store where I saw a really nice shirt, but it was only in a Large. It looked tiny as hell (like one of those "no, that should not be a large, that should be a medium or something"). Well, I tried it on and it fit perfectly. Like, what the fuck. I'm still fat. I hate my body. I'm told I look good, but all I see is a stomach, back fat, and well, fat everywhere.  I dress well to hide it. I've sucked in my gut for years. And I'm still not eating much, because I'm not hungry. There are days where I haven't eaten at all, and I'm perfectly fine. When I eat full meal - well, I actually never do - I want to vomit. But that's just me, and I'm fine with it.