Lack of sleep/stability
I called a crisis hotline for the first time till I could stop crying hysterically. I need to sleep on a regular basis again. And seek therapy. Maybe some meds, as much as I don't like the idea.

Stuff
The point of last night's entry was to say I cut myself. And I liked it, as I always do. And I know and am glad that people care, but if they don't like it, I don't give a shit. I know it's unhealthy and fucked up, but it's my thing. It has been for 11 years. And I don't cut veins. I think I might have once, because I bled a lot and my hand started to go numb, but I wasn't trying to kill myself and I just applied pressure and held my hand over my head till it stopped. I've had to get stitches twice from it. I permanently fucked up two of my tattoos because of it ( one on purpose, the other not paying attention to location ). Granted, they are two tattoos I regret and plan to get covered up, but still. I totaled my last car because of it. My point is, I enjoy it and that's that. The most fucked up thing is that I don't just like it when I'm upset. I like it when I'm happy, too. And I don't do it all the time like I used to. Once in a while. The sad thing is that I did it so much over the years that back in February, when I was having a mental breakdown on 900mg of DXM I gave myself 50 cuts. FIFTY! I counted. And when they healed, you couldn't even tell a difference from before I'd done them. People used to tell me, " Don't do it; it leaves ugly scars. " First of all I'm thinking, " Yeah, no shit, don't you think I went in to this knowing that? " And now I'm thinking, " At this point, it doesn't make any difference whatsoever. " Anyway, today ( which for me means the last 14 or so hours because I didn't wake up until 4PM ) has been pretty cool. My mom took me out for Burger King, where at least THEY have popcorn chicken. KFC can suck my dick for getting rid of theirs. I made an appointment for a manicure and a pedicure. This will be my first pedicure EVER. I'm also getting my blonde highlights redone. I used to love getting actual color put in my hair, but these days I never do. It's not natural. Neither are blonde highlights, but I feel better about them for some reason. And since you're getting color taken out and not put in, you don't need special, expensive, designer shampoo. I found a great hall or previously smoked cigarettes. I know it's gross to some people, but when you're addicted, taking butts out of ashtrays isn't really a big deal. It's the only way to recycle in New Hampshire, anyway. They don't believe in that kind of thing out here. Later, I was looking for something in my room and I found this Mario themed wallet I had stolen from Wal-mart back in Mass. I've never used in all the months I've had it and it was too long for a pocket and I don't carry a purse anymore, so I really had no use for it. I remembered this waitress at Applebee's...to be continued.

Life sucks
So life has been up and down lately. Yes, some of this is due to the fact that I have been avoiding sleep, but also, other things. And not sleeping allows me to feel what I knew was inside but couldn't feel when I was sleeping. I slept a lot in the past few days, but not much in the days prior, and I didn't sleep last night and clearly haven't tonight. But on Saturday, my best friend Jessica came over. I hadn't seen her in literally nine years and we picked up right where we left off. We talked ALL day and a lot of the night. We went and walked around the city a bit. I saw her smoke a cigarette for the first time. It was cool to me because when you've been away from someone for so long you can't imagine the things they've done that you haven't been there for. Like when i found out she lost her virginity. Of course it happened, but it seemed unreal because we hadn't been in contact when it happened. We met a really nice homeless girl and I gave her all my change and four cigarettes. She was cool. Told me I was a sweetheart and asked for my name. I hope I see her again. Her boyfriend was sitting on a bench, wrapped in a white blanket, looking so desperate and hopeless. It was sad. I've been trying to get in touch with the local homeless shelter, Hundred Nights, to volunteer, but no one answers the phones or calls back. I suppose I will just have to go down there some night. My application has been sent to the Westover Job Corps. center in Chicopee and according to my admissions counselor, Ms. Byfield, the should be calling me soon. I've been calling them, too, but again, to no one answering phones or returning calls. They'd better get back to me before August or I'm fucked. I really want to do Job Corps. before college because of the age limit for Job Corps. and because then I can be trained as a CNA, youth counselor or whatever the hell they call it now, AND a day care teacher. From there, I'd like to study creative writing, psychology, and philosophy. I'd also like to take keyboard/piano lessons at some point, and some dance. Before I get my teaching license, though, I want to save up and move to Florida. That is where I belong. I applied for a job delivering newspapers, so hopefully I get it, but I won't find out until Oct. 15 at the earliest. I've been applying and looking for plenty of other jobs, but none of them want me, the douche bags. Oh well. The only reason I need money is for cigarettes. I almost prostituted myself to some 45 yr. old the other day. How sad is that? Anyway, last Wednesday my mom and I went to visit Goose and Corey and I just had this awful feeling of realization. I wasn't even visiting them; I was visiting hunks of stone with their names on them. Will up date later maybe, Tired as HELL!

WoW!!!
Alright, so to start with, I am a member of the Plenty of Fish dating website. My profile on there clearly states that I am looking for a long-term relationship and that I am not interested in hook ups. Naturally, the only guys who contact me being there conversations with " Wanna hook up? " and they don't give a damn at all about who I am as a person. I decided that I did in fact have an urge to have sex with a man, and it didn't really matter who, so I did the easy thing; posted an ad in the " casual encounters " section on CraigsList. I got TONS of replies! It was a nice self-esteem boost, I have to say, however shallow. But it was ironic because every single guy that responded and obviously KNEW I was just looking to hook up showed a lot more interest in me as a person than any of the dickheads on Plenty of Fish. I replied to every single person the responded to my add. Every single one. It was actually fun and interesting. One guy kind of stood out because he was looking to take me out to dinner and for drinks and get a hotel room and everything. But as I kept exchanging e-mails with him, I wasn't getting a strong impression that he had considerations for my personality. So I think I'm just going to ignore him because since he's not particularly respectable, the only way I could justify sleeping with him would be if he was good looking, and he isn't, at least not enough so. This other guy impressed me because he introduced himself very respectfully and was honest and reminded me of myself. We ended up talking back and forth quite a bit and at the very least I have made a cool friend. Whether we sleep together or not, it doesn't matter. The third guy, well, he is something special. In my ad, I had mentioned that " I'm looking for some NSA/FWB fun with attractive, respectable ( and respectful ) men between the ages of eighteen and thirty. You must be disease free ( I am, too ) and you must be single or at the very least not married. Please send a picture with your reply. I'd like to get to know you a little first and if I like you, maybe we can have some fun. I cannot travel and can only host at certain times. " So we e-mailed back and forth for a while, without exchanging pictures, and started to get to know each other. He asked if I am instant messaging because it is so much quicker so I gave him my screen name. I told him that I appreciated him taking the time to get to know me and let me get to know him. He said that it was what I had said I wanted and he respected my wishes. So we ended up chatting for four hours and when we felt comfortable enough with each other, THEN we exchanged pictures. I told him that I hoped it didn't alarm him when I said that I was very much looking forward to running my hands over his body ( we had already both contested that we were willing to hook up with the other ). He said he was looking forward to it, too. So after we finished chatting
( he had to go to bed ), I was overcome with the most amazing feeling. Even if this is not some lifetime commitment or if it doesn't turn into a long-term relationship ( which is very well might because he clearly stated that he'd like this to be an ongoing thing ), I am just blown away. I feel like a giddy school girl, like I want to dreamily doodle his name all over a notebook! I haven't felt this way in years. I didn't even remember what this felt like. But now I do. And I am very hopeful because this is the same way I felt about Corey in the earlier stages of our relationship. I am ecstatic just because this has renewed my faith that I CAN still have feelings like this with someone who isn't Corey! And very ironically, this guy plays the drums, too! He even kind of looks like Corey! Not in the same way that guy I was in my last psych ward with did, but in a way where it's a good reminder of Corey but obviously a completely different person, if you can grasp what I'm talking about. I was looking at his picture and as I was looking into his blue eyes I was just.....drawn in. He is beautiful. And actually nice. And smart. And interesting and interested! In ME!!! No matter what comes of this, this is a beautiful, beautiful and I'm even willing to say miraculous thing. I just feel so much lighter now. And after such a hard, emotional day, him and my two other awesome guy friends just really boosted me up and I didn't even notice at the time that I was being boosted! Even if I were to never speak to this man again, I will cherish this experience for the rest of my life. It was breath-taking.

Life and the lack thereof
Dear Corey, What the hell? We were supposed to tackle the world together. Why aren't you here to enjoy Sabrepulse with me? We could have had so much fun tripping to there music. Imagine the fun we could have had if you had been around when I got my savings bonds. We could have gone to Florida, gone anywhere together, instead of me going with the mentally unstable fucking assholes we love/loved so much. We could have fucking gone to Amsterdam together! You could have talked me into ANYTHING. I wouldn't be burdened by the loss of you and I'd still have faith in life and love. Now I think it might be just as well to stay single for the rest of my life because as much of an asshole as you were at times, I don't think I'll ever find anyone that compares to you, and at some times, I don't even want to try. Maybe it's a mental trap to think I can't be happy with anyone else. Maybe that's true. Maybe that's only true because it's what I believe. How can I believe anything different? Life is so lackluster without you and without drugs. People tell me I just have to move on and that shit happens and that everything happens for a reason. YOU used to tell me everything happens for a reason. I believed it until you died. What the hell purpose did that serve? Did it make me a stronger person? I don't know. I didn't shed a tear when I found out Gustavo hung himself, so maybe, but months later I cried about it while tripping and cutting the shit out of myself, so nothing was really helped or solved. The only thing your death did was make it so other things didn't seem so bad, but that didn't last long enough to matter. I am still fucking miserable. And while I don't fall into deep depressions thinking about you and I don't generally " brood, " to use a word my father loves so fucking much, as I said, I don't think I'll ever be truly happy without you because I am incomplete. It seems contradictory to say I want to kill myself to be with you sometimes when I've just said I don't fall into deep depressions, but I am not in a deep depression. I've been there and it doesn't feel like this. To me suicide seems like a sensible course of action. If I don't believe I can be happy, I never will be, and if I'm not going to have a fulfilling career and contribute to anything, including my own life, then why the hell would I live on? I'm just taking up space, wasting my existence, anyway. Since I was 11 I've been thinking about suicide and from the first time I thought, " Should I kill myself? " I haven't been able to stop questioning it. Susanna Kaysen said that she believed many people killed themselves just so they could stop wondering whether or not they were going to do it. I get that. I won't be happier than when I'm with you again or at least can escape the feeling of being just....gray. Love Always, Laura

Good lord
So here I am at 6:30 in the morning. Why the hell am I up now? Because sleep hasn't happened yet, I'm having too much fun! I don't know if my dad cares that I stay up all night or not, but it's my ritual to make it seem like I'm sleeping when I hear him get up at four in the morning, then I get up again for the hour or so he's out on his walk. Usually after that he takes a shower so I can stay up as long as I'm quiet. Today was not a shower day, it was a shaving day. So I'm lying in bed with all the lights off, listening to music, and all of a sudden I start laughing my ass off because I remembered the other day my cat meowed and I told him, " Jackson, I demand that you shut up. " Which my mom and I thought was hilarious. So I'm trying to laugh quietly and then I start laughing harder because I thought of this time I told my mom I was going to going to strap her to a spinning board and throw knives at her and if that didn't kill her I was going to lock her in a barn and gas her and that when she went down I was going to hack off her limbs and sell them. But I'm going to keep her head in a jar of formaldahyde but maybe something else so I don't get cancer and I'm going to strangle my father with her intestines but before i do that i'm going to rip out her stomach, make my dad wear it as a hat and march him around the town. Then I told her I was going to keep her soul so she couldn't go to heaven,that I was going to catch it in a net and put it in a jar and whenever I thought of her I was going to shake the fuck out of it. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, but it's awesome! And through all this I'm also laughing because I kept wanting to start singing at the top of my lungs, which probably would have ended badly, but would have been really funny. In other news, I had this dream yesterday morning that this man I've wanted for nine years -and believe me, I had NO idea it had been that long till right now; it almost makes me feel sick, old and sick. Anyway, I dreamed that he and I were just talking on my bed and hanging out and he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek but I kissed him full on the mouth. He said, " I guess the cheek wasn't friendly enough! " I told him, " Well, I thought to myself, You're only going to have this one chance, might as well take it. " So anyway, I've been thinking a lot about him now. I'd really like to share things with him, and I don't mean venereal diseases HAHAHA!!! I don't have any of those, anyway. I really might be losing it right now, but it's funny. Much better than a DXM psychosis at any rate. And boy am I lucky I wasn't in high school when that happened. I probably wouldn't have gone to school those days, but you never know, and we can all only imagine how THAT would have turned out. Not that the reality was much better, but whatever. We'll never know. As it was, when I was in my first psychosis, I think fucked my friend so I could use her car, then had my unlicensed friend drive me to Worcester and tried to convince one of my best friends to marry me. I'll never do THAT again.....maybe. It occurs to me that I have a LOT of people convinced that I'm insane...and a good portion of that was before the drugs. Jesus. Anyway, too late to prove my sanity now, because it's always been compromised, I'm not sure why. I really don't know where the obsessions came from, why they were there, what in God's name I was thinking, or why the fuck I " targeted " the people I did. But tough shit for those guys! At least one of them deserved it and brought it on himself, the stupid bastard. But later for him, he's too good for someone like me, at least, he probably thinks so. I think he's kind of fucked in the head, but look who's talking. Although, they say it takes one to know one. I was going to try and explain what my point was, but I really don't have one. Anyway, today I'm supposed to be hanging out with Jamie (funny how that name comes up!) and we're going to Corey's grave because today is the three year anniversary of his death. I don't really know what going there accomplishes, because he's dead whether I'm there or not, and I can't really say it makes me feel better to go there. It used to, but then again, I was usually a LONG way from sober. Of course, if I don't sleep today and find a way to keep up this stream of delirious energy, I might just have a good time! Maybe I'm not supposed to, this being a sad day and all, but you know what? I've had a lot of sad days, so too bad if my happiness/ridiculousness falls on an inconvenient time. There's so much more I want to say, but I don't know what or why. Here are some other funny stories:
Once, a teacher was talking about seeing random articles of clothing in the street and described it as, " It's like, Who's been stripping in the middle of the street? " For some reason I piped up, " I do that! " And it got me a strange look, naturally. Later as I was discussing it with my friend I was like, " I should have followed that up with, ' I have no idea what the FUCK I just said! ' "

I was reading this old journal the other day and I read a conversation I had with my best friend. I said, " At least I don't scream whenever I see The Teacher I Love. " She told me, " Well, maybe you should. Maybe everyone should. See what THAT does to his self-esteem; find him crying and cutting in a corner somewhere. " And one time this same friend and I were walking down the hall to visit someone and The Teacher I Love came out of his room my friend said loudly and somewhat disgustedly, " Oh, JESUS! " EPIC fun! I swear, if I could do high school all over again, I'd have SO much more fun!

A story about Corey: One night, Corey was wicked fucked up, tripping on DXM I think, but it could have been mushrooms. He, Steve, and I were driving back from Price Chopper and Corey was in the backseat. Out of no where he says something like, " Danny, I told you not to touch the gold that's hidden under the carpet. " I was like, " What the fuck are you talking about? " And he said, " Why? What'd I say? " And another about Corey: We were at my house and he was fucked up again, I probably was, too. But he comes up to me and says, " Laura, I peed on your floor. " " How the hell did you do that? " I asked. He told me, " I tried to pee in a can. " I asked him, " Was it the can we made a bong out of (which, of course, had holes in it)? " And he said, " Yeah. " Ridiculous!

Well, regretfully for me and luckily for anyone reading this, that's all I have for now. There may be more to come later, but don't count on it. I might pass out, although I have to get up in three hours anyway so there's hardly any point. Ah well. Good morning!

People
It has come to my attention that some people can't handle what I wrote in my last journal entry. To those people, I implore them; MAN UP. There are far worse things in life than what can be read about in that one entry. At least I have the courage to put it out there. That takes a lot of bravery and I naturally anticipated receiving some hate mail from it, but really people, move on with your lives. There surely must be better ways to deal with your time than giving me shit for being truthful and than reading my journal altogether! So if you hate me and want me dead, so be it. You can even kill me if you want to, BRING IT ON. Because I really don't care anymore. I love almost everyone I've ever met but if they can't handle me because they're pussies, they can go fuck themselves!

My Life
In December of 2008, the love of my life and my constant companion, Corey Hafford, decided that taking 80 milligrams of methadone would be fun. At first, things were fine; he was just rubbing and scratching his face a lot. I asked how he was and he said, " I feel great. " The last words he ever spoke were " you can " when I asked if I could hold his hand. He was sweating through his clothes, so me and one of the other kids at that house got him to drink some water. Then he passed out. All of a sudden, he got extremely pale in the face and his lips turned blue and purple. I told a couple of the kids to help me lay him down so he could breathe better. After that, I vowed to myself that I would not leave his side until this was over. I kept seeking reassurance from the other kids that Corey was going to be okay. They told me that they had all tried methadone and passed out, so he would surely be fine. Only one of the kids was real enough to say, " We're just kids; we don't know what we're talking about. " Corey had tried a LOT of drugs, including heroine, and he could always handle himself, so the idea of him dying seemed unreal. At one point, one of the kids tied his hands together as a joke, someone started shaving his leg and using it as an ashtray, and on little shit named Nick kept slapping him in the face, which I told him to stop doing, although I deeply understood the desire to slap Corey in the face. At one point, all the stupid, little boys left the room to go smoke a bong, so I lifted Corey's tied hands over my head and held him and kissed him. I told him I loved him. After nine hours of waiting for him to wake up, I finally rested my head on his leg and went to sleep, but before I did, I whispered in his ear, " Good bye, Corey, I love you. " I woke up to Raphael Torres knocking on the window asking me is I wanted to smoke pot. I checked on Corey and I thought I could hear him breathing a little bit, but I wasn't sure. I told Raph that I didn't think he was okay. " He'll wake up. " Raph said. I asked him to check on him with me before he left. We pulled back his eyelids and there were brown lines under his irises. Raph told me to get Bobby, the boy whose house we were at. He woke his mother and when they turned on some lights in the room I could see that the underside of Corey's body was turning blue and purple from all the blood coagulating and his was white in the face. I told the mother to call 911 twice before she actually did it. As wrong as this may seem, I couldn't help thinking to myself, " So he's stiff, huh? Maybe I could have one more good time with him. " I would have checked out his cock had I been alone with him in the room. The cops showed up and said, " He's dead; there's nothing we can do. " That's when I started crying hysterically. I remember sitting on the kitchen floor bawling my eyes out, almost hyperventilating. The cops told me to calm down two or three times or they would have to bring me to the hospital. I should have gone. My dad came to get me because Raph had run off and started spreading the word before the cops arrived and my father had received an inquiry about whether or not Corey was dead. The next day, Raph asked me if I had told the cops what Corey was on because Bobby had lied and said he didn't know. When I told Raph that I had, he said, " Why!? Now Bobby's gonna get in trouble! " " I don't give a shit! " I told him. " Corey is dead! " I had to talk to a detective the next week and guess what? The pathetic shitheads at the party told the cops that I said not to call 911! I will always be PISSED about that.

My Life
On Wednesday June 8th, 2001, I nearly killed myself by taking eight bottle of Robitussin liqui-gels. One hundred and sixty pills, 2400 miligrams of dextromethorphan. I drove all the way from Marlboro to Watertown where my boyfriend Steven and our neighbor Katie called 911. The ambulance came and the workers asked me some questions. They hooked me up to an IV and brought me to the Mt. Auburn hospital ER. I was examined and they made me drink liquid charcoal. I had been sweating so much that my close smelled like sweet chemicals. I will never be able to forget that smell. I spent the night in the ER and I was given my own hospital room the next morning where I recuperated and talked to the people they assigned to help me out. Steve came and got me at the end of the day and they gave us cab voucher so we wouldn't have to walk home in the humidity. On Thursday I smoked some weed which made me crazy enough that Steve wanted me to go to the ER again. I cried and cried and cried while I was waiting and then I took some good medication that helped stabilize my brain. On Friday, I was feeling the need to OD again and cut my wrists, so I went back to the ER. I slept over there and around 3:30 AM I was transferred to Bay Ridge hospital in Lynn. I stayed there till Wednesday. It was kind of uneventful. They don't force you to go to groups but I did and I stayed in them as long as I could, which wasn't easy because I wanted to get back to listening to music. When you're admitted there, they give you a care package with not only the usual toiletries, but also a pair of radio capable headphones and a journal. It's the best psych ward I've been in. They don't allow smoking, but they give you patches and I had an awesome roommate who was ready and willing to share the cigarettes and lighter she snuck in and she taught me how to smoke in the bathroom. I hid the cigarette I got from her but when she left I had no access to a lighter and on Monday I took a nap and woke up and immediately vomited from lack of cigarettes. I had a panic attack on Tuesday because I wanted to leave and see Steve so bad. On Wednesday around 9:00 AM, I finally got out of there. The van driver brought me to Mt. Auburn hospital to pick up my car which the protective guards were nice enough to move for me and they gave me a parking voucher so I didn't have to pay the ridiculous cost of parking. From there I went to Steve's where he cooked breakfast for me and our friend Al. I took it easy and spent the night in Steve's bed. Thursday and Friday I chilled with Steve all day and slept in my car those two nights, which wasn't as bad as you might think. I can't imagine doing it till fall, which I might have to. On Friday, I went to the social security office and applied for SSI and disability, but it's going to take two to four months before I find out if I'm getting anything. In the meantime, I'll go to the welfare office and apply for food stamps and emergency funding. Welcome to my life!

Hooray!
Lots of good things have been happening lately! I took my friend's virginity last night and I'd been waiting to have sex with him for literally years. I knew he'd come around eventually! When we were done and he was leaving he kept telling me how relaxed and elated he felt and told me we definitely had to do it again some time. I only hope he doesn't get too attached because I'm currently trying to find a girlfriend. I had a job interview today at Supercuts and it went well even though it took less than ten minutes. I really hope I get this job because they give you a week of training in cutting and they color certify you. Keep your fingers crossed! Tonight, I'm off to the carnival with Brianna and maybe a couple of other friends, too. Yay!