Hey everyone. If there are any of you left.
I realised something today. You know when you realise something and it's really clever so you have to share it with someone? I have no-one left to share with anymore so I have turned to you, the internet. So here goes.
When I was a small child, I used to sleep with the door open because I was afraid of the shadows. I hated the way they stretched in the dark, like they were reaching out to get me- needless to say, I had a very overactive imagination. Ever since I can remember, I've slept with the covers pulled right up over my head. Because I've always been scared of the monsters. Things like the Weeping Angels, the Daleks, Ghosts, The Thing, Alien, Predator, Lord Voldemort. I used to think that if I slept with the covers above my head, I would be invisible and therefore protected. But now, I've come to realise that there is something else, something I can never be protected from. In this world, here, now, there is only one monster terrifying and dangerous enough to bother worrying about. There is only one true horror. I'm sure you can guess. People. Yes. 'The monsters are coming- The Human Race...' (David Tennant). Monsters on television can't hurt you. But people can. Monsters on television all have some kind of power, some kind of weapon. But humans? We have our words and our actions. Far more deadly weapons. A Dalek can only kill you. A human can put you down, make you feel worthless, unwanted, ugly, used, fat, thin. A human can make you feel as though you are unwanted. They can isolate you. They can stick you in a creche from the moment you are six months old and leave you to be brought up by someone else, until fifteen years later they don't understand you anymore. Humans rape, steal, lie, and destroy. A Dalek will only kill you. The Humans are the only true monsters in the universe.
Now I'm on a bit of a roll. If you're clever, you might have picked up on me talking about creche in the paragraph above. Yeah. My mum put me in a creche when I turned six months old. I don't know why, I never asked. I don't want to talk about it with her. But she left me to be brought up by someone else. I learnt to read when I was one or two, at creche. I used to write my name with capital As because I never could quite do little ones. At creche, they showed me. They taught me how to build with blocks and fly a kite, they taught me that spiders were good. They taught me all the different ways I could draw the stars. My mum was dropping me off at creche when I said my first word- what does that tell you? I often used to think I was adopted, because I used to notice how all of my cousins are like their parents. Not just in the way they look, but in the way they act and speak as well. They emulate their parents because their parents were their first teachers. Sure, I may look like my parents and laugh like my parents, I even have my mother's towering temper. But do I emulate them?
Wow. This post is a lot longer than I thought it was going to be. Okay. I may as well continue now.
I was doing so well over the holidays, when we were in Britain. I didn't have any major lows and I kept my temper in check 99% of the time! When we got home I went to work and I had such a blast. Everything was simple and straightforward- wrap the eggs, put the eggs in a carton, put the carton in a box, tape the box up and send it away. Get more eggs from the chiller, load up the egg machine, put fresh eggs in the chiller, load up the egg machine, get more eggs from the chiller. Get a bucket of hot water and wipe down the conveyor belt. Mop the floors and empty the rubbish bin. Day in, day out. Everything was a laugh. When I got back to school my stress levels went up again. Mum dumped Peter which meant she was really angry all the time. I started doing choir and barbershop, and spent less time with my friends. I've started to isolate myself again. I spend most of my time hiding in my room. My dad makes fun of me for this. It's light, but it still bothers me. I told my friends that I wanted to go to Wales, study at the RWCMD and then go and work for the BBC, making sets and props. I thought that they would be impressed, maybe even proud, but they were just cross. They were cross because I had originally planned to go to uni with them, and now I was ditching them. There was no 'well done.' There was only a 'fuck you.' I started having panic attacks. I think the first one happened when I was walking home from school, early-mid February. I was just walking, listening to my music, and I suddenly felt very afraid. No reason that I know. It was like there was this fear pressing in on me from all sides. It was hard to breathe. My legs were shaking a little bit, so I probably looked drunk. I dismissed it though. I had another one a few weeks later, in late February-early March. I was lying in bed, all the lights were off and I was trying to sleep. I couldn't though- my mind was going a million miles an hour. And then the fear hit me again. Again with the shaking and the shortness of breath, and this time it made me a sobbing wreck. I've started writing stories as a coping mechanism- if I'm writing about people who are happy, I find it harder to concentrate on what a mess I am.
Just for a change, it would be nice to feel like I matter to someone. If anyone would miss me or wonder where I was if I didn't turn up to school one day. I wonder if anyone would even notice at all. Doubt it. Maybe I'll skip school one day and see who notices. Hmm.
Well, that escalated quickly.
Fuzz xx
