diary of a living dead girl

mend what you broke

Dear diary, hello I guess. Scratch that, dear diary fuck men. Scratch that, fuck people. Scratch that what the fuck is wrong with me. Scratch all of it. I'm to emotional. I have been all week. Why cause like I said fuck men. I'm so hurt and I can't tell if I lashed out or what. It started with feeling like I was just some object, like Beej and Vince could just buy me. Own me with presents and shiny things. Do I like presents yes who doesn't. Who doesn't love getting something meaning full from someone they cared about. Like that hand sewn thing on my shelf. I know Beej made it and I loved it. Key word being loved. He said I was simple. Like he's just been buying me things thinking he can own me. And I've tried to buy him things in turn so its equal but when you spend all your time in the neither world where your money is useless. Makes it kind a hard. 

I think I called myself his hussy. Cause that's how I feel, like he's just using me for his own gain. Like I'm just a joke, something to play with when he's bored. I don't wanna think that way. I don't wanna accuse him of the man he was. But what if it's all a ploy, that he's been playing me this whole time seeing how long he can hold out to get into my pants. How much jewels it takes before I agree. It hurts so much, like he had crawled into my heart and became my favorite person. Only to have everything ripped from me. He got me good. 

When I'm less hysteric and a little more clear. I remember how blue he was. I've never seen that color on him. He looked so scared, the way he called my name. He rarely does that. He can fib his looks and his speech but never his hair. It's always a dead give away for how he's feeling. But then I get so mad about him calling me simple and the idea that he's been 'buying' his way in. And I forget about that look. I definitely lost my shit. But anyone would of right. Right. Please say right so I don't feel like the bitch. Please say I wasn't in the wrong. Please someone tell me I was ok to blow up cause I don't feel like I should of. 

It's not like I have moments of peace to contemplate. Outside sitting in the grave yard now that the weathers warmer and the sun stays up longer. Schools hard, not just for classes. Claire's on a war path, she tripped me off the stage and sprained my ankle. I have to wear a bandage on it. She flipped my sushi the other day and I just cried instead of yelling at her. I was so hungry. I'm glad Bertha gave me half her sandwich that day but I just cried as I ate. I told them I broke up with Vince and got into a fight with Beej but didn't want to talk about it. How can I when I feel like everything is my fault. Should I even go apologize, he doesn't except apologize. And he was the one using me. Why would I apologize. 

Everything's a mess. Barbara and Adam are glued to my hip whenever I get home. I'm tempted to just start walking around my room naked so they'll give me space. They seem so scared its hard to tell what has them frazzled lately. Could honestly be anything. I should apologize. If I apologize to the prince first it might hurt Beej even more. But I cant bring myself to go see him. Part of me gets really dark. I want to talk to him then I think what if he tears me apart. Rips out my shoulder and just eats me in his fury. There's a part of me that goes so. So what. You wanna die anyways so why not. Maybe he'll eat your soul to and you'll just stop existing. Fuck me everything's so dramatic. And I can't tell if it's me being dramatic or my own emotions running wild with me. 

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Lydia exhaled loudly. She closed her diary, reaching up to her face and wiping away a tear. Her face was wet from all the crying she had done the passed week. She tilted her head back against the cool stone behind her. Stretching her leg out on the grass that was starting to form on the ground. She looked up at the bright sky, squinting her eyes at the sight. She looked back down at the rows of stone heads along the bumpy dirt. Taking in the spring air and feeling herself grow emptier somehow. She opened her black jacket, pulling out a small box from it. She popped open the lid showing a half empty container of white sticks. She pulled one out along with the lighter sitting inside.