Build Me Up.

I thought a diary entry would be appropriate for the 'Hidden Power' competition.. As always, rated Yellow for possible triggering scenes or choice language (you never know what I might write when writing from the seat!)


1. 18/09/2012

I swear that each day is getting more and more constricting; my creativity's being sucked down a drain clogged with hideous thoughts and delirious ideas, fuelled by nothing more than ugly visions of myself during dragging sleepless nights alone. I often find it hard to breathe when I try to do something, and now even walking up and down the stairs is hard for me when I realise the supposed feats I should be able to accomplish. I can't bring myself to punish my own physical being for the slothful spot on this Earth. Instead I admonish myself through words: writing hateful letters, telling myself how much of a bad person I am, but never laying a threatening hand on myself. Damage on the outside is very much visible, whereas people frequently seem to lack the ability to sense emotional detriment. I could be bleeding on the inside, and you'd never know unless you cut me open and hauled everything out. 

They told me today I was beautiful, that I am worth every compliment I am provided, but I always think otherwise. Whilst they view me in a blinding light, I view myself in a darkness so thick that you could cut it with a pair of scissors and wrap it around you like a blanket. It's comforting, being in the dark all the time. You never know what might happen, cannot fathom the constellations in the stars outside when your curtains are shut tight. 

I am quiet, I am very reserved, unless I am alone. 

Having the house to myself means that I can shout and scream and sing insults to myself. It seems like a very joyous ritual, singing happily that I'm an idiotic girl that never has the ability to do anything. The sound is positive, but the meaning is as negative as you can ever get. 

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