what?

okay, i dont know what is going on with me at the moment, but i feel like i’m going crazy.  i’m feeling a sense of shear panic and confusion.  my thoughts are racing and i can’ t focus on a damn thing.  i was trying to figure out if this is cycling or just a panic attack or neither.  anyway, i tried looking it up, rapid cycling i mean, and somehow got distracted to reading about the top cities in the U.S. with the worst allergies or something related to allergies.  i discovered that philadelphia is 25th.  in other words, never got around to looking it up.  i figure somehow writing this post would make my mind focus on something, anything.  i’ m finding, though, that i’m having a tough time spelling and typing and remembering how i got to this state in the first place.  in fact, i can’t remember anything at the moment.  the thoughts are just racing through my mind like crazy and its making me dizzy.  is that a spider?  no… or… no.  great, now i’m starting to hallucinate too.  NO, i am not on any type of drug or medication.  hahah so funny and scary at the same time… it’s like hahah and BOO… get it.  uhm… yeah.  i hope no one reads this.  what am i talking about?  no one reads my damn blog!  so sleepy and so awake.  so freaking cold.  nah this wouldnt be cycling….. just craziness.

keeping this short, but not so sweet

i see myself entering a deep depression, triggered by this situation with my grandfather.  anxiety has been high and energy very low.  so tired that i dont want to be awake anymore.  i want to swallow a bottle of pills and not wake up.  self-injury has consumed my thoughts.  i stare at them in bed, while i’m driving, and looking in the bathroom mirror everytime i’m in there.  it’s getting harder to cover up, but again they’re only minor marks.  i feel dead and it’s making me miss my boyfriend oh so much.  i have been and probably will continue to be more wreckless than normal.  wreckless and dangerous.

personality disorder?

i was reading this blog entry by BPD in OKC about remission for borderline personality disorder.  i never considered it as something i might have, but realized that while her entry listed 9 criteria for having the disorder and not having 5 of them would constitute as being in remission i fit most of the criteria!  then i found this test from www.SimilarMinds.com and took their personality disorder test.  these are my results:

the top three that i had, all in the 70 – 80% range, happened to be of a different type according to them.  Schizoid for eccentric (78%), borderline for dramatic (74%), and obsessive-compulsive for anxious (70%).  i already knew i had symptoms of the latter, but the other two were kind of a surprise.  then again, many of the symptoms for one appear in other disorders.  i could probably make it sound as if i had them all! 

i guess this only answer would be to have a professional diagnose me, which i have a problem doing.  first of all, i don’t want to admit that i need someone else to solve my problems… these minor problems that are really embarassing to me.  secondly, i don’t want to find out that i have no disorder at all and i’m just being dumb and trying to put blame for my own mistakes and actions on mental illness.  that diagnosis would only be devastating and quite frankly, detrimental.  thirdly, do i really want to be loaded up with meds and potentially get an unnecessary addiction?  (this would be the worrier in me talking.)  finally, i’m too lazy.  like most everything in my life, i’m too lazy to do anything.  it’s remarkable that i even bother going to work, but other than my necessary duties to survive, i’m a lazy ass.

yes, so maybe i should just quit bitching about being depressed or suicidal or whatever it happens to be if i’m too lazy to even go get diagnosed?  but, this might completely defeat the purpose having a blog where i can do all the bitching i want without unwanted attention.  so where am i at now? 

i cut myself and it’s just a bit swollen now so back to square one.

six things meme

i don’t usually do these sort of chain things, but since bomarzo tagged me and took the time to put up his, i guess i can take out some time as well.

Six Random Things About Unfitting

1. i sleep with a cute stuffed dog that barks and begs and annoys everyone else.
2. once, i dropped a pair of big metal scissors on my big toe that had me crying and whining for days.
3. i am asian, but if i have to have a conversation with a stranger in my native language, i would be screwed!
4. i have never been stung by a bee, wasp, or jellyfish.  *crossing my fingers hoping i never do*
5. i have never had chickenpox *again crossing my fingers*
6. i have a secret crush on David Boreanaz from the tv show Bones (actually not so secret)

Six Step Instructions

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post these rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six random people by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each of the six know they’ve been tagged by leaving them a comment (on their blogs).
6. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

Six Tagged Blogs

1. Eme’s Weblog
2. Fighting the Urge
3. Just a Bit Fucked
4. Just a Fading Star
5. Push a Little Harder… Get a Little Thinner
6. Confessions of a Tortured Mind

one life for another

..and the anxiety continues.  now it’s accompanied by fear and doubts.  i just found out that my grandfather, who is thousands of miles away, on a different continent, is very sick.  he is going to be in surgery on monday and things don’t seem good.  his health has been declining in the last few years.  i try to prepare, but nothing will prepare me.  i wont be able to handle the grief or my mother’s grief any better than i can handle any other situation i’m in.  even though i won’t see him and i am just one of his grandchildren, something inextricably connects us.  life is so unfair sometimes.

my grandfather, whom i haven’t had a real conversation with since there is a communication problem, is someone you would be honored to meet.  he is a great husband, father, and grandfather.  he is a good businessman even in an environment that strives to extinguish you.  he can make you laugh/smile.  he is knowledgable, unrelenting, strong-willed, hard-working, daring, yet stubborn.  it will be so sad when God takes him and I will still be here doing nothing with my life.  i would trade places with him because he would do something with my life instead of letting it waste away.  even though i realize this, i continue to let it happen.  so there.  guilt on my plate, plain as day. 

i need someone, something to distract me from this.  i listen to my music straight through on my iTunes playlist and this song is not helping at all.  it is “bye bye” by mariah carey.  how ridiculously coincidental.  i should die instead.   i want to cut now and let the pain and guilt numb.  lucky i don’t do it much anymore as i dont like wearing sleeves when it’s almost 80 degrees out.  i have minimal scars, since they have never been severe, just enough to leave a few marks here and there that someone would never be able to tell the difference between the cutting scars from ones i could have gotten when i fell off a bike when little (which i dont have any).  *sighs*

impending doom

in the last few days, my anxiety level has shot up.  before that, i had started worrying that i was gaining weight.  it would be easy to concede to someone that 2 or 3 pounds is nothing, but i would be lying.  i never really worried about my weight before, but i think there are reasons for this.  

when i was younger, i really didn’t care about my appearance AT ALL.  i don’t even think i thought about weight.  and i mean, as long as i looked human, why did i need to care?  when my depression started, i cared even less.  my emotional issues were overconsuming so i didn’t even realize that i stopped eating.  i never felt hungry.  i went days without eating entire meals.  if i did schoolwork; it would be right through dinnertime.  my parents were rarely home for dinner anyway, and this allowed for it to go on (not that i blame them).  i would cut and bruise my arms, but still did not notice that i could hold my wrist and my thumb and pinky would touch or that my ribs were showing.  people would say things as the years went by, but i dismissed them.  two years ago, i started getting better so i ate more.  my bf introduced me to restaurants and different foods, which i appreciate greatly.  food is a great experience.  still, while my moods change, i have kept the same attitude that i can just eat whatever without having to consider my weight.

i was 104 and now am at 110, so what the hell?!  i wonder when joking about my own stomach flubber is going to internalize as hatred and externalize as cuts or bruises.  neither has happened yet.  at the moment, i’m still in the stage where i worry to the point that i can’t breathe sometimes.  i keep thinking i gained another pound, i gained another, and another…  look at my belly.  look at my thighs.  i look pregnant.  awfully sickening.  i could exercise; i tell myself i will.  i hate exercising which is good because i’m too lazy too.  my laziness, no motivation, no drive.

if that wasn’t bad enough, my teeth are contributing to my rising anxiety.  the top wisdom teeth are coming in and for a few days now, while biting down, they have been hurting the skin on the bottom where they haven’t come in yet.  i have the bad feeling that i’m going to have to have them pulled.  DREAD.  i’m scared of dentists, doctors, etc.  i dont want to find out something is wrong with me.  i don’t want to end up with some dentist that is horrible and pull all my teeth out or something.  i’m just waiting for the teeth nightmares to start.  only once did i ever have one. 

everyday i am reminded of these two worries, and they are not my only.  i am having pains in my chest and my stomach.  i dont know if these are due to eating unhealthy or the anxiety or a combination of both.  i feel like ripping the fat off my stomach and thighs.  i feel like cutting or bruising.  i want it to turn purple and blue.  i want to bite my lip and taste blood.  i feel like taking a shitload of pills and passing out and never waking up.  everything hurts.

rocking out the afterlife

yesterday night, my boyfriend and i rented and watched “Wristcutters: A Love Story”.  well actually i did all of the watching.  i don’t know that he was actually at all interested in watching a dark comedy. 

the main character Zia, played by Patrick Fugit, falls in love in the afterlife with a hitchhiker Mikal, played by Shannyn Sossamon.  Zia slit his wrists after his girlfriend leaves him and Mikal ends up there from an accidental OD.  she looks for the PIC (people in charge) because she believes that it was a mistake.  this afterlife they’re in is a place for those who committed suicide.  everything there is all grungy and depressing.  the movie made me think about what the afterlife would be like.  it’s actually kind of ironic.  you commit suicide to escape the pain and suffering only to end up in a place that is just as worse if not more so because of what you did.  i can’t imagine myself to completely cease after death, that i would never be able to think again or feel.  but then, would it just be a viscious cycle of pain and/or indifference?  or, is it possible to get a second chance like Zia and Mikal did?  maybe i’ll be reincarnated or something.  i mean how do i even know i dont have any past lives now.  maybe my weird dreams are memories of them..  okay too much thinking about it and too confusing really.

 

anyway the movie was really good.  they were so cute together.  i can’t believe i’m a sap for love stories….

celebrity overkill

i had a weirddd dream two nights ago, which i never got around to posting until now, and it lasted at most 45 minutes.  at the same time, it was cool. 

i was at a party held by my childhood friend and was there with my girl friend, who was not revealed in the beginning of the dream.  it wasn’t a big party.  i was there being “normal”, laughing and joking around with people there.  ryan seacrest, from American Idol, was there, drunk off his high horse.  his face was beet red and he was five minutes away from keeling over.  everyone was laughing with him, or maybe at him.. i couldn’t tell.  jason biggs, jim from the American Pie series, was also there.  apparently, everyone were friends.  something happened and i had ended up promising jason a tv.  we talked a bit more and then i left, or at least tried to leave.  the house looked big from the outside, but was kind of small inside.  i walked up the driveway only to find my car not there.  i wondered where the hell it was.  i looked up and down the street and still no car.  i started to panic.  did someone steal my car?  a little indian girl was standing next to the dumpster (don’t know how a dumpster appeared) and she stopped me.  “aren’t you going to give him (jason) his tv?”  “later, i’m busy,” i replied.  “but…” she was saying before i left her there.  i went back inside and someone told me that a girl took my car.  she was someone that just looked annoying.  then, i was angry.  not long after, she come back roaring into the driveway with my car, parking it sloppy.  i was about to give her a piece of my mind when a bmw drove up.  my childhood friend went up to it and greeted the driver.  “watch my car!”  people were admiring the leather seats and all the buttons and accessories.  i ended up not leaving and just going back to the party.  i guess a group of us, four of us that were closest, stayed over.  don’t know if part of the reason was that ryan was passed out from drinking.  anyway, we woke up in the wee hours of the morning and it was still dark.  inside, the house was even darker.  i don’t think we were supposed to be staying at the house considering it belonged to jason’s parents and they didn’t know about the party or us staying.  i got up while everyone was still sleeping and tried to sneak out of the house.  there was quite a distance between where we were at and the door.  i was barely down the stairs and the lights turned on.  shit!  i started walking faster, but the parents saw me.  the dad was craig nelson, hayden fox from the old tv series Coach, and you can just imagine that mad look on his face.  he came chasing after me and by then, everyone else woke up.  i pretty much sprinted across the living room and then noticed that the front door was bolted up tight.  i don’t just mean a dead bolt, but like 6 locks on the thing!  i couldn’t figure it out and he was catching up so i dashed to the door that led to the backyard.  i could faintly hear someone yelling, “don’t go out that way!”  i ran into the yard and of course, set off the sprinkler system.  they were set up in a circle for some odd reason.  i ran through another patch and again more water.  i was completely wet and then cold from the early morning air.  it was kind of funny and fun.  “wait!”  i heard my friend cry out.  she ran through the sprinklers too.  she finally caught up to me and her identity was revealed.  she was ellen page, or Juno.  she was exactly how she was like in the movie except not pregnant.  i saw a moving truck, the ones with the open backs.  i ran up to it and grabbed onto one of the metal poles with both hands and hoisted myself up.  my friend did the same.  the guys cried out to us, but we were barely in earshot.  we were screaming and laughing with the wind in our face.  it wasn’t very long.  then, we found that the guys caught up to us.  we jumped off the side of the truck, but saw that the parents were still running up the street, chasing after everyone.  off we were again.  i ran first and saw another truck, but this time couldn’t get a good grasp.  “what are you doing?  are you crazy?” the guys were saying.  “it’s fun,” said my friend.  i saw a white van and although there was nothing to grab hold of, i managed to get onto the side of the van.  my friend followed. 

then my dream ended… it was so weird to be dreaming about all those celebrities.  it could have been one of those stupid teen movies minus myself.