Schildig

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About Schildig

  • Rank
    Not all there ... And proud of it :)
  • Birthday 01/22/1985

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  • Gender identity
    Female
  • Membership Type
    Survivor
  • Location
    Australia
  • Interests
    Tuna, zombies, vodka, and zombies made of tuna that drink vodka. <br />Or maybe...vodka made of zombies that eats tuna? <br />Sleep deprivation is fun.<br />*offers whoever is reading this a mango*<br />*falls asleep on keyboard*
  1. Thanks...i needed to hear that. Actually came online to delete this post, but...maybe i'll leave it. By the way...i love your signature quotes. And the Tori one. Three very cool songs, there
  2. too many nothing days

    i want my life back! i want my sanity. The fog's lifted and i'm me again, i'm real again, but it's been such a long time ...i don't know what i'm supposed to do. i want to be normal. i want to make new friends. Good friends. Friends who just want to hang out and have fun and aren't just being nice to me for some fucked-up hidden agenda, or whatever. i've spent too long letting people convince me that i'm socially inept; and that i need them if i'm to have any kind of life at all. What if everything i say comes out sounding crazy? And i'm speaking through a haze, and hoping nobody sees it tinting all my words - A normal person says, "Hey (person's name). How was your weekend?" A hopeless freak like me says it different. She says "Hey (person's name). How was your weekend?" And she says it through the dirty mouth of a girl with her dirty secrets, and they taint her every word. Not blaming it all on "that", of course. Always been pretty hopeless socially. Maybe that's why i never run when i should: this person treats me like crap, but at least i'm not alone. This sucks. i'm 21 years old, not 100. i'm not ready for pink fuzzy slippers and staring blank-eyed at the wall waiting for life to be over. Seriously, i can feel my entire body and mind atrophying. Went clubbing the other night, got drunk, danced with some middle-aged guy simply 'cause i didn't want to be rude by refusing him a dance, went home. Have been hiding in my room for two days and pretending the real world is on pause. Feeling old. Feeling like i know far too much for someone this age. Just restless, i guess. i still wanna go out and party, be irresponsible, take drugs, sit outside the cathedral at night with a bottle of bourbon and a bunch of friends, laughing and carefree. Even just a moment of genuine contentedness. That's all i want. i'm not old enough to be this old. And i'm too stubborn to give up. There are good people out there: i'm going to find them, and we're going to chill out and have fun, and i won't have to be afraid of them, or feel inferior, or be on the edge of my seat all the time wondering what they're thinking. i hope this isn't forever. i'm not ready to disappear just yet.
  3. Frooo

    This link will take you to the funniest thing in the entire world's history of funny things. Ever.
  4. *t* for ednos & numbers

    ***Don't read this if you have an ED and are feelin' triggery. It's a landmine of messed-up thinking. *** Have not been able to stop gaining weight all freakin' year. First of all, the seroquel i'm on increases appetite and causes weight gain. Second of all, i'm comfort eating. And third...i've recently discovered that hunger is a trigger. Was seriously depriving myself of food all through the second half of last year. So now, of course, a light head and an empty stomach brings me right back there and i go half-mad with stress. Between all three of these factors, i've been fighting a losing battle to stop from getting fat...anything from starving to healthy eating to ridiculous binges. Y'know how it is...gaining and losing the same 5kgs (11 pounds) five times in a week. i'm over 10kgs heavier than last year...25 pounds exactly to be precise. Doctors would call this a good thing. But i'm mega ashamed of myself for it. i'm just not strong enough to feel confident at this weight. Desperate to hide away in my bones; to see those numbers drop again. So it's 9:00 pm, Tuesday May 30. So i just pigged out to punish my body for being so fat. But maybe i shouldn't punish myself. i'll do somethin' that most people would consider self-punishment, but to me it's a reward. i'll allow myself to liquid fast. Just for a lil while. Well, as long as it takes to lose 7kgs. Totally random number there. i just miss the feeling of "empty", and, well, damned if i'm gonna turn into a big triggery bundle of nerves every time i skip a meal for the rest of my life. No way. Hunger might not be healthy, but it's my hunger, and i refuse to be afraid of it. i'll be semi-healthy though, and make sure to get at least a couple hundred calories of liquid every day. By the way...seriously not encourageing this kinda stuff to anyone. Well aware that it's very self-destructive. But i'm already in this ednos mess...have been for a long time...and right now the illness is telling me to go hungry for a lil while, and well, i'm not really in a mentally strong enough place to handle being this big right now. So i'm gonna listen.
  5. calmer

    Ok. A bit calmer after yesterday's little outburst. i'm tough again now. And strong again. Have to keep reminding myself that C is in pain...this is just how he deals with it. i do wish he wouldn't take it out on me so much, but i also have to remember that it does no-one any good if i don't at least make an effort to be there for him as a friend. Who knows? Maybe if i make enough of an effort, he'll want to reciprocate again one day ...maybe if i try to be nothing but sunshine, he'll feel safe to let his guard down again one day and we can be friends. i am awfully near the end of my tether, though. But i'll make one last, huge effort. But if i try as hard as i can and he doesn't try in return, then i guess i'll have to accept that our friendship just isn't gonna patch up.
  6. thanks
  7. i can't take it anymore. Last night could've been fun. It really could've. C and i met up in the city with a couple of C's friends...we had some drinks, C and i hid under the tarp in the back of the ute because we couldn't all fit into the car itself. It was fun...being drunk in a car that's going 80kms an hour, in total darkness, staring up at the tarp stretched over the ute's tray. C jumped out somewhere and came back with several canisters, so we went to his friend's house. Turns out the canisters were laughing gas. The four of us got utterly silly on it. That woulda been a fun night. It shoulda ended there. But i just had to push my luck *grumbles at self* Accepted C's offer for a lift to the train station. Ended up agreeing to hang out at his house instead. As soon as we passed my station, he started. i don't know why i keep expecting he's gonna be nice this time. The usual stuff about how he's in his own personal hell because of me, and i know nothing about real pain, and i'm an emotional coward, and i'm a sick freak for "gallavanting off with my r*pist". And yes. He did actually use the word gallavanting. Which almost made me laugh. i mostly kept quiet and tried like crazy to only choose words that would calm the argument down, but i felt like crying. Started playing a game in my head: i watched a train station go by, all lit up like a big welcoming beacon, and at that moment i desperately wanted to be standing there, waiting for a train that would take me home so i wouldn't have to be listening to his hateful angry half-crazy words anymore. So i kept thinking, "If i can't stop him yelling at me by the next train station, i'll ask him to stop the car so i can go home." Train stations kept going past, though, and i kept thinking, "Ok, one more station" until we were at his house. At which point he continued his monologue of aggressive self-pity (aggressive self-pity only sounds like a paradox until you actually see it done) and his general dislike of various aspects of my character, appearance, opinions, and choice of friends. Then he ate three huge steaks, implied that he was doing this because he might kill himself before he has a chance to get fat (and his death will be my fault of course)... ...and then he passed out on the couch. Does it sound like i'm being too hard on him? i don't think i am. Earlier that night he'd said, "It's fun watching someone slowly destroy themselves under the weight of their own guilt. So much more effective than just beating them up or something." He thought he was being so fucking clever. Said it to his friend right in front of me, with a little "Oh-aren't-I-such-a-joker" type half-smirk on his face. His friend just ignored him and stared at the table. Ug. i just can't take this crap anymore, that's all. The guilt is killing me. AND HE KNOWS, AND HE'S DOING IT ON PURPOSE! i can't believe the stuff he's trying to blame me for. Everything that's ever gone wrong in his life, in my life, or in any of our friend's lives, is somehow MY FAULT, and the reason it's my fault is because i hung out with a r*pist. If it didn't drag me down so much, i'd be really, really impressed that C is managing to be so incredibly creative, constantly coming up with new and innovative theories about how everything that's ever gone wrong, in his life and in mine, is because i hung out with S. i wish he'd STOP IT! Why can't he just be NICE for once? Why can't we just have fun for once? Why's he have to blame me for everything? Why's he feel the need to punish me - for all these months - over something that I HAD NO FUCKING CONTROL OVER?! Fuck you, C. Fuck you for turning into Mr. Hyde, when i thought you were pure Jeckyll. Fuck you for making a conscious effort to drag me into the depths of self-hate, and bragging about it to your friends! Fuck you for calling me names while i just meekly accept it and obssess about what i can do to make you hate me less. And MOST OF ALL, FUCK YOU for crying again and again that i have "thrown you away" when i have been right here ALL ALONG, LISTENING to you tell me all about what a cold-hearted bitch i am; offering my shoulder to cry on, letting you use me as a verbal punching-bag and then having the gall to tell me i've "abandoned you, just like everybody else does". i've been with you all along, in case you haven't noticed. But one more night like that...ONE MORE...and i am running for the hills. (One more train station and i'm going home. One more drink and i'll tell him he's had enough. One more insult and i'll finally lose my temper right back at him.) But none of this ever happens. One more argument, and he'll finally have it all out of his system this time. And then everything can be good again. And he'll go back to being good old C, the innocent one who wouldn't hurt a fly. i'm good at denial.
  8. One Day

    There is no inspiration. How many days will she wait for it to come to her? How many years sitting and thinking "One day; one day i'll write the most beautiful things; one day i will take people's breath away with such incredible words, paint the sky, paint wonderful worlds with nothing more than simple white pages and chicken-scratch penmarkings," and always, always she promises herself these things with lowercase i's; the chickenscratch mark of a coward. One day. How long must she cling to this delusion? As long as it calls out to her with undeniable truth. She is a writer, and she is betraying her own nature with every day that passes, every breath she takes in which her lungs fill with air, greedy, to feed her stagnating mind and fuel her empty day-to-day thoughts. Where are these characters, her friends, who walk through medieval forests on grand adventures; living, breathing, laughing because she held them in her heart and made them real? What cowardice, what selfishness, led her to push them back to the recesses of her oblivion so that they suffocated, wanting for air, denied that simple place on a white page that was the only solid ground on which they could find their footing and become real? And what does she write about on those pages now? Herself, and only her self, with the lowercase self-indulgent i's reflecting the constant mental noise; the static of a shadow-parody; a bland watercolour stain of the bright canvasses she used to paint so naturally. Chickenscratch did not matter then, for there were worlds within it, and the simple blue scribbles spoke of such intricate fiction that truth became supurfluous, and the blue-on-white scrawl meant no more than a means to and end through which she could convey truths that were grander than truth itself. So what now? Now she knows that writers' guilt, and she is a coward, a murderer, she lets entire worlds die half-formed in her mind - she watches coldly as they suffocate, and then has the gall to sleep soundly at night because nobody knows she is doing this. But she knows. Countless universes are dying inside her head every day, because she is too afraid of the choking expanse of white before her, swallowing her up, overwhelming her senses and demanding a brilliance that she is too faded to give. And yet she smiles, and she calls herself strong, and she pins the word "writer" over her heart like a badge of honour which, secretly, she knows she has not earned. And she continues to soothe herself with those inane words, "One day..."
  9. Cave of Truths - silly metaphors

    In a dark little cave sits a dark little girl, thinking dark little thoughts that echo all around the cave walls. They bounce off one another and reverberate, becoming magnified; distorted, always returning eventually back to her ears. Nobody knows she's in this cave. There are legends about it. People say a dark monster lives here. They don't know it's just her; just a dark little girl in a cave of her own deafening echoes. She desperately wants to step out into the sunlight. She does not want to be all alone with her secret thoughts anymore. She knows they won't reverberate and grow louder, not outside this cave: they will be spoken and then they will cease. So simple. But she also knows that people are afraid of this place, and of the legends that surround it. Once she steps outside, they will not stop to observe a scared girl coming out into the sunlight. All they will see is something dark, emerging from a place they fear too much to venture into. So before they see what she is, they will shoot her down. She's too scared to come out, so she stays here, silent yet deafened by her own screaming thoughts. She can understand why people are afraid of this place; and well they should be. Anyone who spends too long in a cave like this will be deafened; maddened by their own echoes. But it isn't her they should hate or fear. She wishes they understood that. It's the place that's awful; not the girl trapped in it. Why can't she come out and join them, away from this horrible place? She ran in here for shelter, many months ago, not knowing it was an even more dangerous place than the one she was running from. She knows she has to devise a plan. How can she come out of this cave, without the people shooting at her and driving her back in? She's already tried just walking out. But they shot. And she ran back in before any fatal wounds could be inflicted. Unfortunately, she also ran back in before anyone saw how harmless she was. She just can't stay here alone anymore. It's dark, cold, and completely empty but for the relentless chatter resonating from every wall. How can she warn them before she steps out? How can she convey her harmlessness before she walks outside, so that nobody shoots her in their fear? The worst part is... ...she remembers this cave from the outside. Growing up, she'd barely paid any attention to it. It was dark and scary and she ignored it completely. As did everyone else. One day, not long after her sixteenth birthday, she and a friend were arguing outside of the cave, near its entrance. The argument became so heated that he pushed her, and she stumbled and fell several steps into the cave. What she saw there terrified her, and she ran, and she would not tell anyone of the thoughts which had come from her mind and bounced off the walls of that cave, only to return to her ears distorted and hideous. Still, that cave told her truths. Harsh truths; things she knew no-one would understand. So she'd visit it often, and just...stand near it, wondering what those secret truths had meant. Not too long ago, she met someone who was terrified of the Cave of Truths...more terrified than anyone she'd ever met. He would not even go near it. But he could sense that the girl had stumbled into it, all those years ago. He hated and feared her for that. And so he tried to curse her by distorting her mind; by taking the words that the cave had echoed at her and making them seem twisted; evil. He tried to twist her mind by performing evil deeds, and using those secret truths against her, until she believed that she was evil for enduring those deeds, and not he for performing them. Half-mad and terrified, she had run for the one place she knew he would never venture...this Cave of Truths, this terrifying place which magnifies every dark thought in a person's mind. She hid until she knew it was safe, and he was no longer pursuing her. But it had been the most terrible time of her life - because his curse had succeeded. Her thoughts had been twisted, and in her months of hiding, the Cave had echoed her twisted truths back to her, again and again, always louder, stranger, scarier. Until she hated herself and knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that she was sick and evil and that everything he had done to her was not only her fault...it was also her crime, and he was the innocent. Perhaps she really is the monster that all the people outside this cave are afraid of. Perhaps, when she emerges, they will be right to shoot her down. The Cave of Truths tells her that she is evil and sick, but at least it lets her hide here. Maybe when she steps outside, and there are no echoes...the truth suddenly won't sound so evil and loud. If only she could step outside without being mistaken for a monster. How can she do that? She has seen, and knows things that many people would hate her for knowing. But she did not choose to learn them. And now, after all this time in the Cave of Truths, she's been through too much Hell, and now she is too brave, too brave for her own good, too brave and stupid to hide the dark things that this place has taught her. If she survives when she emerges, then she will tell of all the things that tortured her in that place; the guilt that gnawed at her heart and the screaming accusations in her ears. This time, when she walks out of this cave, she will stand still long enough for people to decide if she really is a monster, or a scared girl, or something else entirely. She can only pray that they won't shoot...but even if they do, surely it can't be worse than living trapped in this Hell of truths so twisted that they wrap around and choke her mind; her heart.
  10. Thanks It should be ok, i'll figure something out The person who owns the site doesn't have a contact email there, so that'll make things tricky, but i'll try and find a way of asking her to remove it. Thanks for offering to help, though
  11. my stupid photos online *t*

    Just read a post in "my voice" from a girl saying that some awful person put pictures of her being r*ped on some porn site. It made me so angry that someone could be so cruel as to do something like that. Then i thought... "Hang on..." How come i'm not equally angry about my own situation? One night a friend hurt me; i curled up on the edge of the bed, naked, crying. A few weeks later i was reading at a messageboard i was going to a lot at the time. Someone had this black&white, "artistic" picture of a girl curled up with her head in her hands. i thought, "that looks familiar..." And then remembered... Him saying, "Don't move, that looks cool. i wanna get a picture." and me just thinking, "shut up and leave me alone. How could you be so f*cking heartless?" It's now on an eating disorder site, posted there like it's some kind of freaking artsy photo, and there's no email address for contacting the owner of the site. i know there are other pictures, far worse ones, but i have no idea if they're "out there" or not. The ones that were taken later, the worse ones, just make me feel more ashamed than anything else. Because i did consent to those, even though i was so damn drunk i don't remember it. The next day i asked him to please, please delete them, but he refused and hid them, and threatened to use them for blackmail. So the "worse" photos are just embarrassing. But that black & white thing that's circulating its way around ED sites... That's just low. What happened to me was not freaking artistic. And i hate that my pain is just posted up there so casually amongst a bunch of other photos.
  12. Thanks Well, as far as being all shiny and bubbly goes... i'll share the secret with ya as soon as i figure it out, or maybe you can tell me if you get there first (...sorry if this sounds a lil odd...took a sleeping pill and it's kicked in...yay for spaced-out-ness)
  13. a rare vengeful streak showing through...

    He said i should kill myself. Said if i don't i'll just become a crazy hermit, and i'll need a few dozen cats to keep me company. Well, my friend's cat is having kittens... So i reckon i'll get one. i shall hug him and squeeze him and call him Azrael. My first step towards becoming an official Crazy Old Cat Lady. Mostly because i've always wanted a little kitty-cat......but there's also a teensy part of me which is snickering away to itself for some reason... Perhaps because even though i'm getting a kitten, i'm not becoming a "crazy hermit" at all... in fact, i'm making lots of new friends at TAFE and the longer i spend away from him, the more "together" and sane i become, and the more my life is finally starting to make itself into something i'm actually enjoying. i can live without him. Don't get me wrong. i still love the guy despite the months (and years, really) of hurt he caused. And i still have softness in my heart from him and wish him good things. But on this one point, i just can't help but say... Screw you. *grins* *Jumps on her broomstick and cackles into the night with her dozen feline minions running behind her*
  14. hiding in corners

    "i despise what i have become i feel so unhuman" - Hungry Lucy; from the song i got on repeat right now. Just ranting 'coz i got drunk last night, so it's prolly the alcohol acting as a depressant. Went to a club for my friend's 24th last night. Ack...clubs...wonderful places full of people having fun, where i stand around awkward and wish i knew how to have fun like they all seem to. Random confusing comments made by strangers - (One guy looks at me and says something i don't catch) The other replies to him, "Yeah, but where would you start with a girl like that?" Huh? (Paranoia - fat joke? But (technically) i'm slightly underweight right now... *blinks in confusion*) Another comment, later. Someone else looks at me and says to his friend... "That's a waste of a good woman." Again...huh? i tried my best to look nice...but every other girl looked so much nicer. They sparkled with vivaciousness and danced like goddesses, and they smiled enchanting smiles and laughed true, carefree laughter. And there i am in my boring grey dress, ridiculous knee-high boots, too much eyeliner, hiding in the corner like a timid little mouse. Trying to think of something to say to my friends. Unable to speak loud enough for them to hear me over the music. At least A was there. A is a fellow misfit...we eventually went and sat in a corner together, mostly in silence, except to occasionally point out random people in the crowd and trying to psychoanalyse them based on their body language and stuff. But i'm sick of psychology. And labels. And theory. For fuck's sakes...i'm living. Right now. The world is not a gigantic book to read. And yes...we're all lost souls...we're all as scared as each other. But the best way to help people is to connect with them...to reach out, to be there with them, to know them and live, in the world, with them. Not to sit in corners and read their body language and stick labels on them. i'm scared of being hurt. So i hide in corners. Complete and utter joke, girl. How do i break out of this shell?
  15. Feeling bewildered and betrayed

    Why do i still miss you? Today my brain doesn't want to deal with all the bad things of the last few months. Today my brain is feeding me memories, all the good memories of our years of friendship...it's reminding me of every sweet thing you ever said, every kind gesture; it's reminding me of...you. The you i fell in love with. Where did you go? Did our friendship mean so little that you felt it was time to throw it away for some kind of power trip...or...i don't know...what were you thinking? i just can't believe that the you who half-annihilated me, the you who wore me down and betrayed me and very nearly broke me, is the same you i've known for all these years. Why? Why did you choose to turn like that? i miss you. The you i fell so hard for... ....this can't be real. We part as enemies. But that was never what i wanted. You say i don't know what i want? i wanted to love you: to be allowed to love you. That's all. Push me around, push me away... ....it aches. i'm so much stronger than i was a few months ago. i've become so brave. i'm starting to shine again, in a way i haven't shone since i met you. i wish you were here to see it...but if you were, the shine would immediately start to fade...because i'm afraid of you. i don't want to be. Why would you do that to a friend? i don't understand. Did i hurt you in some way? Did somebody else hurt you, and something about me reminded you of them? i don't hate you. Maybe i'm foolish for not hating you...but i just can't. And i don't want to. i can live without you now. And that makes me strong. But why should i have to? If only we hadn't parted as such bitter enemies. i miss your house, and your hair, and your incredible blue eyes, and your wit, and your sensitivity, and the way that when i was near you, every moment felt special and magickal. i bet you never felt the same way about me. It's a shame. You never took the time to realise that i'm worth knowing. Now i'm left feeling strong but sad, brave but lonely, i have nightmares about you but i still remember, and miss, the way you were before... Why?