Tic-Tok-Thyme 3.0 and A Selfish Rant of a Selfish Girl 2.0

I went back to my old domain LOL why did I ever change it? Fuck was I manic in September...


I'm writing another post just because I want to express the distaste I have towards my brother. Does anyone remember this post? (Oh my god in that post my brother was 24, he's turning 29 in two days, and I'm turning 24 in August- wtf...)

If you don't want to read it here's a summary:

My brother is the best damn thing in this entire fucking world. He is so goddamn precious that a puppy chasing a butterfly can't even compare to the charm he emits. He is a glorious ray of the sun, neigh, he IS the sun.

Yes, he is an ex drug addict.

Yes, he is an ex alcoholic.

Yes, he did threaten to kill my mom by pushing her down the stairs.

Yes, he did steal my mom's cheques and forge her signature, thus making it almost impossible to stay a float/feed 11 year-old me for a bit.

Yes, he did convince my mom to give the rehab centre he now works at, THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS OF MYYYYYY TRUST FUND to take me away from my home and do absolutely nothing to help me this past summer.

Yes, he is incredibly abusive emotionally and physically with his girlfriends but for some reason, to my entire family, MY boyfriend (ex I guess) is the one who's evil, and my big brother can do no wrong.

Yes, he's all that and more, but does that affect my parents at all in thinking he's the best fucking thing since sliced bread? Nooooo. The post linked above is a rant from FOUR years ago. It was when no one knew (or cared) that I was incredibly depressed and anxious. It was when I was cutting nearly everyday, and inching myself closer and closer to an actual suicide attempt. I feel like at that time, the sweet release of death is all I thought about.

So my brother has a physical fight with his then fiancé, they break up, he ends up living with my mom and I for a bit and all I hear from everyone is, "Oh poor N!" "Careful around N, he's not doing so well" "How unthoughtful of you Mint! N is suicidal right now!" blah blah blah. He wasn't suicidal, I knew that and he admitted he said it for attention later on but like, I was cooking him food like all the fucking time! Being as nice as I could yet still not doing enough apparently. Fuck he's lucky I didn't murder him myself...

So, update to that post. My brother went to a glorious rehab paid with my mom's own money, and with my dad's "connections" ( 😒 ). He's now a year sober and everyone is SO PROUDDDD.

I was too until I found out he's more attention-seeking than ever. All he talks about is how he's so happy he's "found God" (he's a sciencey atheist, I know this for a fact). All he does is talk about how well he relates to his clients and how he's really got a knack for helping people (HE WORKS WITH PEOPLE WHO HAVE THE EXACT SAME FUCKING ADDICTION, if he didn't relate I'd be worried that he was faking doing drugs too).

He looks down upon me for my addictions (I'm not addicted to anything just to let you know), he looks down upon BB for his addictions (not addicted either, just likes coke when there's coke- who doesn't?) and he looks down on my abusive relationship (BITCH PLEASE).

He talks so fake all the goddamn time, like his voice is fake. ANDDD he tries to treat my mom and I like his patients. Can I add that he's never had any courses on anything and has no fucking right to be talking to us like we're a project let ALONE have the job he has. But no one at that rehab centre has any training either, it's just a fucking house of addicts teaching addicts for big money.

He thinks he's so high and mighty, but we can't even put vanilla in his food. DOES HE NOT KNOW THAT THE ALCOHOL COOKS OFF AND ALSO THAT VANILLA ISN'T GOING TO MAKE THE FOOD TASTE LIKE BOOZE OR HAVE EVEN A REMOTE BOOZE TASTE. MORMONS COOK WITH VANILLA N, MORMONS.

Anyway, he thinks he's wonderful and my parents agree with him. Did I mention that my dad disowned me because I had moved back to AB? YUP! I think his exact words were:

You can talk to me when you decide to make better decisions.

**Remember when my dad triggered the first time I ever self-harmed??**

My brother's newest venture has been (get this) writing. Yes that's right folks! The all amazing N has made a beautiful blog to write beautiful posts that everyone just knows will turn into some extra pocket cash for him.

excuse me?

He's writing about his time at the centre (obviously) and his experiences with his "patients". He's documenting what works, what doesn't, and any breakthroughs he has. OBVIOUSLY the blog features a bit about himself and his own struggles. A sort of, "journal" he calls it.

I'M SORRY DID YOU JUST TRY TO TAKE CREDIT FOR MAKING UP THE BLOG-STYLE OF WRITING?

IS THAT WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?

REALLY?

Everyone LOVESSSSS N's blog. My mom reads it, my dad reads it, the step mom reads it, my fucking GRANNIE reads it. Wanna know why? Because N is God's gift to this earth. Hell, N might be the fucking second coming, he's that amazing.

They all read it and think it's good because,

A) they're all blinded by the book of God-- I mean the book of N.

and B) because they either suck at writing or don't read/write at all.

I'm sorry but that's the truth. And it really pisses me off when he stomps all over my turf with his smelly feet. I know, I know, I shouldn't be cynic; other people are allowed to write. But I mean seriouslyyyyyy.

Everyone knows I have a fucking blog now. It's no secret. No one knows the actual ADDRESS, but they know I have it. So why has no one suggested I get serious with my own blog? To try to make something of it? My mom told my brother he would probably be able to make money off his blog and that she'd look into ways to help him before he even STARTED IT. So it's definitely not about the writing... N get so much attention because he's a mother fucking starboy.

BUT HE'S NOTTTTTTT. HE'S A LIAR AND HE'S FAKE AND HE'S MEAN. HE LOOKS LIKE MY DAD NOW AND ACTS LIKE MY DAD NOW TOO. EXCEPT HE'S WORSE, BECAUSE HE'S TURNED EVERYONE INTO A SPOTLIGHT, POINTING THEM TOWARDS HIS UGLY FACE SO HE CAN SHOW OFF AN AWARD-WINNING DANCE ROUTINE THAT HE JUST MADE UP: THE NACARENA.

It's his birthday soon as I've mentioned and between my mother running around getting my grannie everything under the sun (she's like my brother that way: needy and attention-seeking) and running around getting everything ready for N's grand arrival (he lives literally an hour and a half away), little Mint has taken her usual spot in the corner.

For like two weeks I feel, I've been asking if my mom would go with me to the walk-in clinic so I could get a refill of my prescription. I couldn't go on my own because my car was then in the shop (before I crashed it), and also because I have this really fun thing called CRIPPLING ANXIETY.

But every time I've asked something has to come first. Whether it be work (she's retired), my grannie, or my brother, or something in between. We'd always do things more important before taking me to the clinic, resulting in it being too late to go or because after being out in public for so long I couldn't handle anymore interaction.

We were supposed to go today but she had work! And then she had to buy more groceries because my brother is coming! And then she had to take my Grannie out to look at stores! AGAIN!!

Today I finished the last of my prescription so let's just fucking hope that we can make it down to the goddamn clinic. MAYBE.

Also, my brother is insisting he stay the night before his birthday at my mom's house, thus kicking me out of my own bedroom...

fabulous.

P.s If you think this is just me throwing a pity party, look into "the roles of an addicted family"; my role is that of the lost child.

An update.

I've been trying really reallyyyy hard to be happy, and to be okay. My head automatically blocks me from remembering good times as well as the bad, leaving me incredibly empty.

I crashed my car two days after getting it fixed. I destroy literally everything I touch.

After returning to my mom's house at the beginning of this month my body has ballooned with fat. I feel so full and uncomfortable, I hate how much she buys. WE HAD SIX LOAVES OF BREAD. Neither of us fucking eat bread.

The amount of food I've been surrounded by is so overwhelming. Everything is overwhelming. I want to just hide in a corner with my hands over my face. I want to hide, I want to disappear. I want to go back to how things were.

I want to go away... you know what I mean.

Everything seems pointless because everything IS pointless. I'm empty and alone and have dug so deeply into my hole of anxiety and depression that there was no turning back years ago.

I have no idea who I am or what I want. I'm too afraid to leave the house whether I'm sober or not now. I am so paranoid and worried, my body is always on edge; I'm always tense.

I've wasted my youth and I'm just an empty shell of a person. I've experienced nothing, and have connected to no one.

How could I have made this much mess, acquired this much debt, without doing literally anything? I don't get it. At what point did everything go so wrong?

I used to think I was sooooo sad and sooo lonely and soooooo helpless. But NO, fuck no; I was not even close to the lump of fuck-up I am now. I was able to hold down a job. I was able to meet friends. I was able to go places on my own. I was able to smile (even if it sometimes felt forced). I was able to look people in the eye.

I'm clinging desperately to the thought that I'm meant for something in this life. I saw a psychic. I saw a palmist. I read my own tarot cards once twice, three times. I read about my life path number. I read my traditional horoscope. I read my CHINESE horoscope. I read into my name. I read into my birth date.

Everything told me the exact same thing. But what do I do with this knowledge?

I got my mom to buy me crystals to banish anxiety and depression. Crystals for love. Crystals for joy. For abundance. For balance.

Crystals to place under your pillow at night, meant to open your third-eye.

I meditated and asked to be shown where I'm supposed to go, what I'm supposed to do, who the fuck I am. I asked to be shown signs during the day, and at night.

So far, spiders have started following me again. That hasn't happened since September 2013. They usually appear when I'm going down the right path. I remember them appearing only at times when I've been happily moving forward. But I'm not happy and I'm definitely not moving...

It appears my guides want me to stay put. Hence not hearing back about the loan I'd need for school, not being able to go back to BB's uncle's house, and not not being able to go literally anywhere because I ruined my fucking car. Which is exactly what the psychic, what the palmist, and what my cards have said: you need to rest.

The last week I've been putting different crystals under my pillow at night. Jade each night (apparently it's the "dream" stone), and then adding a mix of rose quartz, citrine, and/or moonstone.

Since doing this, I've had a restless sleep each night. I wake up after about two hours each night, and then proceed to toss and turn until morning.

I've had dreams every single night which is cool because rarely do I ever remember my dreams.

Last night though I wanted a real sign. An intense sign. So, for some stupid fucking reason I decided to put under my pillow jade, and not one but TWO moonstones.

I should mention that the first night when I put the jade under my pillow it burned my hand when I was putting "intent" into it. And then when I was trying to fall asleep, the burning went to the back of my head.

Last night when I was holding all three stones, I got the burning feeling again so I decided to just put the jade in front of me while I held one moonstone in each hand. Then I felt the two individual vibrations the moonstones were putting off. It was like their vibes were competing with each other; like when you're trying to force two of the same magnetic poles together.

As I was trying to fall asleep, thoughts were floating around my head. I had a thought of rolling into BB's arms, and as I did I got that previous burning feeling, in my heart. Could be just anxiety, could be these CURSED FUCKING STONES.

Like clockwork, I woke up about two hours later from the scariest dream I think I've ever had.

Long story short, the US government was working with aliens to conduct a worldwide "project". There was a PSA message saying that shortly everyone's homes would be invaded, and that no one would be missed. The group had a name, it was "The Water" somethings, I can't remember...

But yeah, everyone was either being murdered or rounded up and sent to concentration camps that had somehow already been made. This was being done super quick because the organization was MASSIVE apparently, and also because well, aliens.

We got the PSA in Canada and everyone was scared and confused, wondering if it was actually legit. But then I saw these massive spaceships fly into my city and I was like FUCK. In the dream I was living with BB in our old apartment. But he couldn't come home because of work apparently. So I was alone and so fucking scared. All I could do while I waited was watch people in the states live-stream their last moments online. The organization was obviously controlling it because their logo and little jingle would play before any video would start.

It was so scary. I woke up and was like, "This could literally be happening RIGHT fucking now without me knowing it."
So just to be safe, I went and slept in my mom's bed for the rest of the night and had zero dreams because there were zero crystals fucking me up.

Today I washed all my crystals, trying to get past negative energy off of them. I even smudged them for extra effect. Hopefully I sleep better tonight. Hopefully I actually get an ANSWER, and hopefully I can clear my mind.

- Mint.

The story about the wings.

Okay,

back to changing up what I was saying hahaha

I think that for the MOST part, I'm not insane. But with the whole manipulation weird evil shit I got goin', that's definitely not a "leo" thing. That's just an evil insane person thing.

So yeah, I'm sick in the head but not as much as other people think I am.


That's all I really have to say for this post so let me use this as an opportunity to tell you a story I think I forgot to mention about this previous Wednesday night out...

So it's Wednesday, wing Wednesday in college town party place western Canada. My smart, not so intense friend, A, invites me out for wings and I obviously say yes. Because, since breaking my 10 year vegetarian diet, wings and hotdogs are the only meat I enjoy LOL

I say yes ALSO because the place we normally go to has Caesars on special and I've just discovered that I AM OBSESSED WITH THEM.

She asks, and I agree.

THEN, ohhhh ho ho, THEN she asks if she can bring her friend J along.

Since I've already said yes I have to allow it or else I'm a bitch LOL obviously. So I say it's fine and get ready to go.

I should mention that I actually know J. She was pledging in the sorority when I was and actually ended up as pledge princess hahaha I didn't really hang out with her much because she's quiet and super innocent and that's just not my jam.

ALSO, when I met her she was full-fledged anorexic; diagnosed and everything. She had never even had a period before in her life. Obviously I disliked her because she was skinnier than me but whatever, it didn't matter because I dropped out of school after a couple months meaning I also dropped out of the sorority. After that I only ever saw J at like one tiny party that A had.

TWO YEARS LATER, J is in recovery. She was also put on hormones recently and has had 2 periods; welcome to woman-hood J.

She's also obviously gained weight, a lot of weight.

Now, I'm all for recovery, like good for you, you can enjoy life now blahblahblah. But for me and my corrupted mind I was like, "Ha! Fat bitch."

If you're still dealing with your eating disorder you probably know this thought. You know that it's your evil ED voice talking and you know that it's mean to think but... it's true.

So seeing her obviously gives me a giant confident boost hahaha I was already feeling confident because I know I'm the most daring and loud of the bunch (meaning that I'm going to get a lot of the attention especially if we go out-out), but NOWWWW due to a divine miracle, I am now the skinniest.

I AM THE SKINNIEST, TALLEST, BLONDEST, AND HAVE THE LONGEST HAIR!

If A didn't have some of the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen, I'd be the prettiest too; but I judged her and I as at least a tie in that category. I've got some pretty eyes too so yeah LOL

Walking down the street with my possy, seductively smoking and purposely smiling in a certain flirtatious way for those around me to see, I felt good. I felt great.

I had finally become the girl little Mint had always dreamt of, I had made it. When did this happen? How can I be who I've always dreamed of and still feel uncomfortable with how I look? God, I need to actually believe myself when I think I'm looking good, because now I think it's actually true.

We get to the place and order. I get extra-hot wings obviously (it raises the fuck out of your metabolism, hot sauce has close to zero calories, and the spice will make me eat slower), A gets honey heat, and J gets salt+pepper. We all get Caesars (mine without the rim) and the night officially begins!!

J eats all of her wings like incredibly fast, and then she finishes the last 4 wings A had left on her plate. I'm laughing at this sight non-stop in my head. I'm such a fucking bitch, I'm sorry...

Since I'm leading the conversation, had a huge 3 ounce Caesar before I even met up with the girls, and had 2 double Caesar's during the meal, I only ended up eating 4 out of 12 wings.

I think, "YAAAAAAAS" because we all know I'm going to carry these fuckers with me all night just so I can eat them before bed. I'm fucking stoked.

But as I'm shoving the box into my tiny purse J offers to put them in her own bag since it's bigger. I think that's super sweet and I hand over my prized procession.

After drinking 2 triple margaritas at my favourite Mexican bar we head to the strippers because A loves them lol

This is where I think drunk Mint made a mistake...

I told J she could throw out the wings if she was sick of carrying them. I think my exact words were, "Do whatever with them, I don't fucking care."

WELL OBVIOUSLY I DO CARE AND ANYONE ELSE WHO KNOWS ME WOULD BE LIKE, "LOL sure, yeah, okay Mint. Like you're not going to be dreaming of these bad boys as soon as we leave then club."

Right? RIGHT? B knows. Fuck she'd probably stop me right there to eat them just so she could stop carrying around my fucking doggy bags hahaha

Unfortunately though, I'm not with B. I'm with a very hungry, ex-anorexic.

Long story short, once we get home from the club we walk into A's apartment and I'm the last one in. I take my shoes off, not paying attention because I'm fighting with BB over text when I look up... to a horror of the ages.

They're going to put this in the history books I swear, fucking mass destruction is what this is.

I look up, excited about eating all the rest of my fucking wings. I can imagine the ranch dripping off those saucy bastards. I can even imagine the smell of the Frank's RedHot.

Wait a second... I do smell Frank's RedHot!

I look up, and shock is the only way I can describe it.

THIS ANOREXIC FUCKING BITCH, ATE ALL 8 OF MY WINGS.

I REPEAT: SHE ATE NOT 1, NOT 2, NOT 3 OR 4 BUT ALL EIGHT FUCKING WINGS.

IN THE TIME IT TOOK US TO WALK THROUGH THE DOOR AND TAKE OFF OUR SHOES, SHE ATE ALL MY FUCKING WINGS.

AND I'M NOT BEING DRAMATIC HERE, SHE ATE THAT FAST AT DINNER TOO. SHE DEVOURED THEM!

I was fucking livid. I could've fucking strangled her.

I was with two soft-partier friends, drunk with no drugs, no after party or drunk boys trying to pick me up... my fucking BOYFRIEND JUST FUCKING BROKE UP WITH ME, AND I MADE OUT WITH A DUDE THAT DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH MY GODDAMN FUCKING BUTT.

Like no, no; not okay man.

Even though I said she could do whatever with them, at least fucking ask if anyone would like some after a long boring night. Like fuck.

It's almost been a week and I'm still fucking mad hahaha but don't worry friends, I'm going with A for more wings on Wednesday and J is gone to do this year of uni in Europe, so my wings are safe friends :) my wings are safe...

♥︎,

Mint! 💋

More zodiac shit; sorry not sorry.

Okay.

I feel like ever since the, "this is why I'm a bad person" post I've been trying to like... re-explain myself. Trying to make what I had said seem different than how it was presented.

But now I'm thinking that I'm more developing the original ideas.

See, originally I was thinking that my need for attention, drama, and impulsivity was due to a mental illness, ie. BPD.

BUT, nowwww I'm thinking that's more of just who I am. Which makes sense because personality disorders are disorders to do with your personality; duh. I'm going even further with it though.

I'm talkin' sun signs people!

If you know me in person or have read my blog for awhile, you know that I'm alllll about that zodiac. Yes, it's not always accurate; yes, it's not scientific; but for me, in my life, the people I meet usually tend to fit their role.

I'm not going to try to convince you all about my beliefs with it (shoutout to the conversation I had with B's boyfriend about zodiac signs that lasted for what seemed to be FOREVER), but I am going to state my most recent thoughts.

I AM A LEO.

Hello! Yes, it is very nice to meet me.

If you read like any write-up about leos you'll read that we are insanely dramatic, passionate, and impulsive.

We attract attention wherever we go, and we love it. All the world's a stage and we're in the centre of it.

We're the most generous out of all the signs, and our excited energy is absorbed by everyone around us; we're a real fucking treat to be around, you're welcome.

Because of the previously listed attributes, we exude passion. With a fiery energy such as this, intuition and impulsivity come naturally.

So this is what I'm getting at. I think I'm not insane. I think that the people around me just don't know what the fuck I am. And because of this, I'm feeling like I'm being suffocated which is resulting in a very sporadic, frantic, and intense energy.

Lately, out of nowhere, I'll get incredibly anxious feeling. A type of anxiety that I've never really had before. It feels like I need to run, or produce something right away. I think it's my body's way of releasing this pent up "leo energy", since I'm repressing it so much.

EVERYONE IS TELLING ME THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME, THAT I'M NOT NORMAL, THAT I'M THINKING INCORRECTLY...

After awhile of person after person saying the same thing, it sort of puts a toll on a girl. It makes me start to believe that what they're saying is true.

Yet no one knows how to "fix" me.

I think I can't be fixed because I'm not broken.

We all know that if I'm feeling confident with my everyday life, if I'm producing work I'm generally passionate about, I'm not anxious or depressed at all.

So what I think is that I need to stop listening to everyone because they're wrong. I think I need to see a fucking psychic LOL

Because, I have all this frustrated leo energy in me that's not being channeled properly. Maybe they can look inside their crystal ball and tell me what's up. Tell me which path to pursue.

That's the real problem actually, I don't know what the fuck I want in life, so everything to me seems pointless. I read too that the leo is all about "identity". So until I find out who I am, I won't be able to progress. My last therapist told me that actually, probably the only good advice I got from her hahaha

I need to figure stop trying to please people. I need to accept myself and own it.

So yeah...

Those are my "today" thoughts.

I think that's why I'm craving getting into trouble; leo angst. I want to cause a scene, do stupid random shit, and do it without remorse.

Yup, I'm an adolescent lion.

- Mint.

Tic-Tok-Thyme 2.0: Ghosts and Guns

I had to change my URL after that last post... just incase.

I really don't want BB reading that, so even if for some fucked up reason he knew my old URL, he won't know this one... right?

This is the first time in the history of this blog that I have changed the URL. Which is a big deal. I only change my usernames for a reason; usually when a new chapter of my life begins, and this is no exception.

I no longer feel like the 17-year-old girl who started this blog, which is probably a good thing since I'm now 23.

Yes, I still feel like a ghost, going through life without living; forever waiting for nothing.

But now, I'm angry about it hahaha no longer a peaceful ghost minding their own business, no. I'm fucking haunting shit.

Plus, this is fairly close to the username I use for my personal accounts, so that's cool.

After yesterday's post, I feel pretty embarrassed to admitting to all of that. I understand why everyone tells me I have BPD, apparently I'm fucking manipulative as hell, and without a conscious. I'm just some sort of attention-craving whore. Weird, never realized it.

I watched Chicago this morning when I couldn't sleep and goddamn do I want to be Roxie Hart. Or just a jazzy cabaret singer, Lana Del Rey is my biggest idol. Someone mysterious, sexy, innocent, but bad.

Maybe if I stay single I could hit that persona up a bit better than how I try to do it now. Like in the clubs I mean. I want to get better at having all the attention on me, but also I don't want to bounce from stupid boy to stupid boy in a night and end up with nothing. I need to capture everyone, and then put most of my focus on one person, that'll end up better I think.

I'd definitely need to make sure I don't get in too deep either, because I'm bad at that. I get my feelings in there even though I don't really care about the person. I care whether or not they care about me. So I should stop that, because it's dumb and makes me sad.

I also need to somehow update my wardrobe. I'm obsessed with slip dresses, fishnets, stockings/garters, visible bralettes, moto boots, thigh-high boots, leather jackets, and a smokey eye. That's my FW '16/17 must-haves. Don't judge me.

BUT, if I don't stay single I'm going to go home and stay there forever. I want someone to own me really, and look after me. I don't know why but I want to live for someone. That's fucked up. I've been having a lot of weird thoughts like that lately. But yeah, it's a kink I've been dreaming about. Like Harley Quinn and the Joker in Suicide Squad; I'll do anything to make him happy. DON'T JUDGEEEEEE.

I'll go home, finish my bachelor online, work while getting my masters and start my own practice. Fuck if I'm ever going to have kids though. He wants kids, I say I'll have kids, I won't have kids. I'll just fucking lie if that's my life. Whatever.

The thing is, right now, I want to self-destruct. I want to do everything I'm not supposed to do. I'm craving trouble and drama. Because I don't fucking care. I hope I die, I'll probably kill myself soon, but if I don't die, I want to destroy everything. I want to express my fucked up mind, I want to show off my insanity, because I truly believe I'm insane now. I mean, my therapist quit on me, and everyone says people with BDP are basically sociopaths. So let's run with it.

Maybe I don't even mean any of this stuff. Maybe I'll change my mind about everything tomorrow, or in an hour, or next week. I hate not knowing if what I think is how I actually think or not. Oh well, let's see what happens.

Not being afraid of death is dangerous. Not caring what happens to you and your body is troubling. Spitting in the face of your own life isn't normal or desirable. But here I am, take me or leave me.

A self-corrupted mind, and chosen insanity.

This is ghosts and guns; lust and love.

Let's get fucked up.

- Mint.

This is why I'm a bad person.

I'm going to tell you all why I'm a terrible person, and why I deserve terrible things to happen to me; why I deserve to be without love; and why I deserve to be dead.

Well, maybe not to the extent of death but still, I long for it.

From the age of 5 to 13, I wanted to grow up to be a singer/actress. I wanted to be rich, famous, glamorous and sexy as fuck.

When my mom would curl my hair, I'd always get her to position one curl covering one of my eyes for a mysterious, Jessica Rabbit sort of look.

I'd wear feather boas; practice fainting sexily onto a couch; practice my model walk with one hand on my hip, two hands, no hands (variety is the spice of life).

I wore platform heels to school, and tied my shirt up in a knot during gym to show off my "hot bod".

I loved when boys would chase me on the playground trying to kiss me, I loved flirting with boys just so I'd have a higher number of admirers.

This was all going on from kindergarten up until grade two. Grade two is when I had to go to this catholic school where people made fun of me on the first day for literally everything. That's when I stop trying to stand out. That's when I was told that I was ugly and no one liked me and I was weird and annoying and stupid and UGH!!

High school was obviously no better. I never felt pretty or as if anyone liked me the entire time. Probably because my friends ingrained it into my head that I definitely, without a doubt, was ugly annoying and weird, just like everyone else had told me.

This one time when I was like 15 or something, this older, weird ginger dude had a mad crush on me and really wanted to be an item. I obviously said no because I didn't like him like that at ALL, but I remember my one "friend" H, making a huge deal about it. I know she wanted me to go out with him just so she could laugh.

She sent me a text saying, "You know you're not pretty or anything, no one else is going to ever ask you out. Plus he's nice so you should just say yes."

She actually said that. And I actually believed her, and I actually remained friends with her for at least another year.

Sidenote: she was always always a cunt to me. The day before 9th grade, she told all my other friends that I spread all these rumours about how they do drugs or some shit. AND THEY BELIEVED HER. Fuck I hate thinking about this shit still...

Anyway, all of this has made me never believe compliments given to me. To the point where I don't even hear them anymore. I hate myself so absolutely that I... well that I've scarred my body the way I have, and that I've starved it and stuffed it the way I have, that I've allowed people to treat me wrongly, and have agreed that I've deserved it.

Obviously this isn't what makes me a bad person. What makes me a bad person is that I forget that other people have feelings. I forget that sometimes, they need looking after; that they have insecurities; that they need reassurance; and that they don't know what I'm thinking, so they don't know how I truly feel about something unless I tell them.

I forget these things, and it makes me a bad friend. It makes me selfish, and it makes me a terrible person to trust and to love.

I automatically think that everyone hates me and thinks I'm the scum of the earth. SO, why would it matter if I dipped out on plans last minute? They're probably grateful that I bailed again.

Why would they take anything I say to heart? What's the point in opening up? In laying my heart out right there in plain sight? Why should I trust anyone. Why should I?

I'm a bad friend because I don't reply to people. I forget to ask them how they're doing and I forget to follow up. I forget that they feel. I forget their birthdays. I'm no fucking good.

I'm selfish in the sense that I ditch anyone and everyone I go out with. I end up self-destructing and making the night about me, and making them look after me. I'm selfish because if I don't have all eyes on me, then there's something wrong and it needs to be changed NOW.

I'm wrong because I'll purposely make a guy think I adore him just so I can get free premium drinks, but then go upstairs and make out with someone completely different. BUT THEN, while sitting in a circle with a bunch of people, notice another girl there and totally talk her out of the circle.

When I drink, I look for drama. I look to be the best person there. I look to be the one that everyone wants to listen to, and to admire.

I look for love, and then once I have it I like to make people jealous. I want people fighting over me.

When BB and I first got together I did this all the time. I'd sit close to other guys, put my feet up on their chairs, laugh at whatever the fuck they were saying, just to get a rise out of him. Which obviously worked and then I'd stupidly act like I didn't do a thing.

I even think that thing that happened last September was my fault. Because I knew who I was kissing, and I wanted him to want me that entire night. I got him to fucking break up with his girlfriend that night actually. And I fucking whispered his name right before we kissed.

I think I did it for validation actually. I wanted someone who hated me in high school regret the mean things they did, and I wanted them to admit that I wasn't ugly and annoying and weird like they once had thought. I wanted to be an object of fucking desire.

I want to be a girl of mystery and sadness. Someone people want to save. But at the same time, I want to be so confident and loud and sexy, that when I tell them about how sad I actually am, they feel important and special because I've chosen to tell them my intimate secrets.

At the same time, I do know I was definitely drugged that night. Because me going and having sex with some dude from high school while my boyfriend waited for me in the car isn't a limit to which I'd ever push something. And me not knowing where I was, and who I was with originally is all true, also I couldn't stop it once it started; and I did want it to stop.

I shouldn't be to blame, but I know I am.

Most times actually it was me who had pushed BB to flip out on me. I knew he was jealous if I paid too much attention to any guy. I definitely subtly flirted with all his friends. Because again, I love attention, I love being the only girl, I love people loving me.

So I'd eagerly await every word when they'd tell a story. I'd sit almost too close. I'd make sure their drinks were always full, they'd make sure they always had vodka, straws, and ice for me. I'd be so excited for hugs. I'd enchant them with my smile and laughter. I'd make them feel like they were the only person in the room with just my eye-contact. I'd make them all be on my side when my relationship was rough. They'd be the ones to save me. And I did it all on purpose. To make BB jealous.

Of course it worked and of course no one else saw what he saw. Of course he took it too far, of course I was a poor little girl who deserved better.

I always wanted him to push me or hit me or choke me. I don't know why. I just want to be hit. Maybe because I know I deserve it, but he's only ever slapped me 4 times.

I push him when we're fighting, and I get right up in his face, trying to think of what I can say to get him to hit me, but he's always maintained enough control to avoid it.

Even when he ripped through the doors, I kinda wanted it to happen. The first I wanted to see if he'd actually do it; the second to see if he'd really do it again.

I don't know why I'm like this, but I always pretend I'm in a movie. I do things on purpose to get a certain effect and it usually works. They follow my script for the most part.

I've even caught myself doing it with my mother. I could get away with anything if I wanted to. I'm not a fucking idiot. I just play things out a certain way to "accidentally" be caught.

I never thought of it as manipulation for some reason though. Maybe because I've convinced myself that this movie isn't something I created, it's just rolling... or maybe I give such little fucks that I do it for some sort of sick entertainment? I have no idea.

This is why I'm a terrible person.

And I don't know what to do about it. I don't know if I care enough about it, because I care about very little right now. Thoughts of suicide litter my mind. Life is dumb, life is pointless. I'd like to leave.

- Mint.

I'm a bird in a fucking cage.

It's currently 2:10 AM and I've been freaking out for a good hour now.

I'm not going to catch you up on what's happened this past month but I'll tell you about what's happening now.

I am currently trapped at my mothers house. Literally, I've been trapped and I don't know how to get out.

I became trapped last Monday when I decided that it was time to go home to my boyfriend instead of leaving him and moving elsewhere.

It was more than obvious that everyone in my life other than my boyfriend had strong opinions about how I should be moving to Kelowna. I had ultimatums set with friends and family, people yelling at me for even thinking about going back, people hating me for going back, like it was a lot. Which hurts. But whatever, I'm pretty used to people leaving me by now. I'm surprised I have one and a half people left in my life.

Anyway, I decided to go back. I had all my shit packed in my car, had fought with my mom in the driveway for an hour and was ready to go!!

I'm not going to go into details about what happened next because it literally took up six pages in my paper journal. So to summarize, my car broke before I even had a chance to get gas.

I phoned my mom after crying in a parking lot for awhile and she helped me get my car to the shop.

Here's where some important background information will come in handy. My car was having problems before I even got to my moms house a week before. When I told her about them she said we should take it down to the shop and she'd pay to get it fixed (I still have no job by the way). I told her that'd be nice but we couldn't because my car isn't insured or registered so it would get reported and seized if I took it in. At this point in time I was going to move to Kelowna so she told me she'd get my car insured/registered under her name and them AFTER, we could get it fixed without any worry.

WELL, I obviously didn't get my car insured because I didn't choose Kelowna. Hell, I didn't even get the gas money she had offered.

So, when I was on the phone with her I reminded her about the no insurance/registration thing and she told me, "Don't worry, I know the owner."

SHE SAID DON'T WORRY. NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT NOW RIGHT? WRONGGGGGG

After like two days of tinkering they figure it's going to be like an $800 job. This is already a problem because my mom only offered $300 in repairs. So I'm talking to my boyfriend, trying to come up with how to get the remaining $500 when I'm dropped with a fucking NUCLEAR BOMB.

They found a "problem" with the registration of the car and won't work on it OR release it until it's fixed.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I fucking spaz. Because to get a car registered here, you need insurance. And for me to get insurance the cheapest I can get it for is if I can drop $700 in one go.

AND SO EVEN IF I CAN SOMEHOW FIND $700, I'D STILL NEED $800 MORE TO FUCKING BE ABLE TO GET THE DAMN THING MOVING.

As soon as this happens mom puts up her hands and is like, "this isn't my problem!"

Which, I kind of understand because YES, I am the one who is driving an uninsured/registered car. BUT SHE'S THE ONE WHO TOLD ME NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THAT BECAUSE SHE KNEW THE GUY!!!

I mean, I could've driven home slowly and everything would've been fine.

Mom too is totally against helping me out with a loan. So like... I don't understand what to do.

I can't leave here because literally everything I own is in that car. I can't leave here because buses are expensive and also I have extreme anxiety now and would never be able to do it. BUT, I also can't get a job (I've had 5 calls for interviews this fucking week that I had to say no to) to pay for anything because I'm here. I also can't get a job here because my mom is moving to a different town on the 5th and I won't have enough time to save.

SO SERIOUSLY WHAT DO I DO?

My boyfriend and I are also supposed to be out of the apartment on the 20th so we're fucked there too because we have no way to get the furniture out! SOOO, I'll lose probably most of my damage deposit ($750) because the apartment will have all our shit in it that they'll have to deal with. I'll have to pay them, to throw out all our fucking furniture. Like what the fuck.

I'm going insane here. I was police escorted to the hospital the other night too because I was yelling and screaming at my mom in her car (about how she won't help me, how she literally got me trapped here on PURPOSE just because she didn't like my decision) when for some reason I decided to start kicking her BMW's windshield repetitively until it smashed (another $700).

My mom was driving me to the hospital while I was doing this because I was also threatening suicide since I have no idea what to do. We get to the hospital and she leaves the car to go to the front desk and I'm waiting in the car when I realize I don't need to wait there. So I start walking off, without an idea on where I'm going.

I end up going home where the police are already waiting for me (idk why my mom didn't just call me or pick me up, she would've seen me walking). They asked me questions and took me to the hospital to be assessed.

WHILE WAITING FOR AN HOUR, more cops came and were chilling with the cop that was with me. This one blonde butch bitch decided she wanted to piss me off more than I already was. She asked me questions (she somehow knew about my situation) and was being so ignorant about my entire relationship. She even called me a druggy when I mentioned how I was almost raped in September.

"You said you were messed up, so what's your drug of choice? Meth? Crack?"

NO BITCH MESSED UP AS IN DRUGGED. BUT WAS THIS FACT A CONCERN TO ANY OF YOU GUYS WHEN ALL OF THIS HAPPENED? NO. MUST BECAUSE I'M A METH HEAD LIKE MY BROTHER WHO JUST GOT OUT OF REHAB.

Why am I supposed to respect cops again...?

Anyway blahblahblah I said I wouldn't hurt myself and they sent me home to an understandably grumpy mother.

Anyway, everyday is the same now. I just sit in my old room alone. Not knowing what the fuck to do and how the fuck to get out. I want to die so bad. I don't think I've ever wanted death this much. I literally have no other way out.

I was sitting around 126.4 but I'm pretty sure I'm gained do to all the fucking food I'm being given by my mother. That's stressing me out a lot too. All this goddamn fucking food. I'm gonna lose my thigh gap I just know it! But I've only had it for a couple weeks :(

Today I got to thinking about how I'm turning 23 soon and that has made me even more depressed. I have wasted my youth on nothing. A fascade of a love story, and I am now just old and faded. No career, no love, no life, no experience, no friends.

I hate everything and everyone because I have no one.

I'm no longer a cute, young, little 20-year-old. No one looks at me like I'm special anymore, no one wants to talk to me anymore. Everyone's just mean; and I'm just old and hagered... I'M A HAS BEEN.

WHY COULDN'T I HAVE JUST DIED IN THAT GODDAMN FUCKING TUB.

- Mint.

Dear BB,

I fucking hate you.

I hate you for making me love you. I hate you for stringing me along for two years with your lies.

I hate that I trusted you again and again after you'd lie to me time after time. I hate that you're making me feel this way.

I DON'T WANT TO FEEL THIS WAY.

You were supposed to be my one and only. You were supposed to love me forever and unconditionally. You were supposed to look after me and make me happy.

In the beginning everything was so magical. I fit in your arms like no other; your kiss was addicting.

You told me I was special. You told me you knew I was put on this earth for you. You gave me confidence and happiness. I was the happiest little girl, in love with her BB.

I don't want to go through all the hurt you've put me through over the past 24 months. They're already written in type, in ink, and scarred into my skin. No, I don't want to go over the mistakes you've made with us.

Can they be called mistakes if you were consciously choosing to make them?

Point blank, you never cared about me. You never loved me, never thought I was irreplaceable. I was just someone you could use to get what you wanted. That's all. Someone you can emotionally beat up when you were angry, someone you could manipulate to act how you wanted.

You disrespected me so fucking much.

You'd say how much you loved me and how you could never be with anyone else while you were actively trying to fucking fuck other girls!

You make me feel worthless, and I guess I accepted this type of treatment because I am fucking worthless.

But know what? I may be worthless but I don't need to be hurt and disrespected this fucking often. I can't stand you walking all over me.

I wish I had died in the fucking bathtub. Because I know I don't want to be without you BB.

You're the worst person in this entire world but I've seen when you were the best. Not many people get to see that BB. The best BB.

I don't want to be without you because I love you. Because you give me meaning and purpose in this terrible life. At least I had someone to hold and to love and to wipe away my tears and rip through my insecurities.

I don't want to go back to my apartment in Kelowna. You tainted it by fucking The Cunt there. That was the first time my apartment had experienced sex, and it was with you and her.

I don't want to cry all my makeup off every night onto my pillows again. I don't want to wake up without you. I don't want to do anything without you.

I don't want to be an alcoholic again. Drinking to feel numb, to pass out so I don't have to experience the day, the night. I don't want to self-harm on my closet floor again at 2 in the morning hoping that I can cut deep enough. I don't want anyone else to even try to come into my life.

Why did you do this to me? What did I do so wrong to be treated like this? I fucking love you and you don't care!

You think you care, you think you love. But you don't.

I can't remember who told me this but they said you weren't capable of love. And I think they were right.

Don't think that I'm leaving because I want to. Don't think that I'm going to have an awesome life without you.

I honestly give myself about a month before I succeed in killing myself. Because there is no fucking point in being here without you. There was no point before you, why would there be a point after you?

I don't want some "nice guy". I don't want a proper guy. You are the only one who can handle my crazy head. I am so possessive and dependent and emotional, who would put up with that?

We lasted this long because we can handle each other, because we get where the other is coming from, because we've both been through shit. Not everyone will understand people like you and I, not everyone can tolerate being with people like us.

You are truly the only guy I've been attracted to. You're the only guy who makes me feel safe no matter where we go. You're tough, and sexy, and goofy, and adorable, and you make me so fucking happy.

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO RUIN US!?!?

Lying from start to finish.

I don't want to write anymore.

I fucking love you BB. But you've hurt me so much, and for too long. I love you and only you but you're making me leave you.

There's no one who can even compare to you. We were supposed to be for-eva-eva. We were supposed to get married. You were supposed to love me when I was no longer young and beautiful.

I love you the first time
I love you the last time
Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines
'Cause I'm your jazz singer
And you're my cult leader

I love you forever
I love you forever.

127.8 this morning.

I'm super dreading starting this goddamn job on Wednesday.

I've never dreaded work this much before. Like, normally I'm nervous and excited but scared but excited.

But right now, it's 100% dread. I don't think I'm ready for this kind of a job right now...

I'm stressing about all the days I'll need off coming up for BB's multiple court dates (I think he has 4 this month?) and for going down to BC to celebrate my brother's one-year of being sober. He's so excited for me to go.

The last two days I've been supremely depressed because of the impending doom that is work; because I found out BB still talks to this girl that he tried to cheat on me with last year about this time (I've met her boyfriend before); because I want to leave but don't want to leave and have no idea what I should do or how I should go about it; because I don't know who the fuck I am anymore apparently.

I don't think I ever really knew who I was but I'm so lifeless and afraid of so many things that I feel as if I'm a living shell.

I have no thoughts, I can't remember anything, I have no interests, no inspiration...

I was thinking about this last night because all I've wanted to do for the last few days is sketch something, or take pictures, or write, or do anything creative. But nothing ever comes to mind and the general thought exhausts me.

I was thinking about how I only ever want to be someone else, someone else, so who the fuck am I?

I have no idea. There are all these personalities I like to dip my feet into but none that ever fit. This might actually be because of my depression and anxiety taking over my life. I just thought of that. It makes a lot of sense...

Last night I was thinking too about how I really need to talk to somebody.

I need to talk about my suicide attempt because it scares me. Every time I do something wrong I feel like absolute shit and wonder why the fuck didn't it work? What the fuck is wrong with me, I can't even fucking kill myself right. It makes me want to try again, or self-harm.

I really want to talk about the moment I had in the tub too. The moment where I lost my sanity and started talking in a weird voice and laughing to myself about I don't know what. That scares me a lot actually. What if it happens again? When I decided to kill myself I know now that it was extremely irrational but in the moment it was like, "Yup! This is what needs to be done." So I mean... it's just scary. My head.

I want to fix my anxiety and depression. Because right now I'm afraid to do literally anything by myself. Yes, there are a few moments where I can like, walk to the car myself or find something in the grocery by myself. But in general, no. It's too scary. My depression is so bad right now that it seriously feels like my head is in a never-lifting fog. Like I said, I can't remember shit.

I'd like to talk to someone about my relationship, because I know it's not right... I don't know, I just think I need to get a lot off my chest.

Sometimes talking about this kind of stuff, even to really close, unbiased friends, feels like I'm being dramatic. And I feel selfish and petty and stupid. So I think a professional is who I'd like to talk to.

Sidenote: BB did say that if I don't want to work at the job I'll be working at then I don't need to take it. But I know I'll feel guilty like I already do, and I know we need the money, and I know he'll end up using it in a fight.

He uses all my insecurities when we fight. He calls me fatso, crazy, and a spoiled princess "because mommy and daddy take care of me". He tells me I'm disgusting and embarrassing because of my scars, that he deserves better. When I walk away because I've heard enough he usually shouts something like, "Oh, you going to go cut yourself some more?"

These are during fights and I know he's saying these things because he knows it gets to me, but it hurts and again, makes me wonder why the fuck I couldn't kill myself.

- Mint.

My head hurts like a mother fucker.

Hellooo~!


I just updated my stats ;)

I haven't done that in YEARS.

Today, yesterday, and the day before my head has been pounding. I think it might be a slight concussion from when BB pinned me on the ground during our last fight on Wednesday. I think this because my head hasn't hurt like this since September when he did give me a concussion.

My body is pretty sore in general though. Not all from him though lol don't worry; except for beside my right eye it hurts to touch because he slammed my head a little when he choked me to the ground.

Wow, that sounds intense but I swear it wasn't. I'd have bruises if it was intense and I've got nothing so yeah, don't worry.

The real reason my body is aching is because of our bed I'm thinking. I think we need to flip the mattress because springs are digging into me. I've got a bruise on the small of my back, right above my butt crack and a bruise on my left hip from it. ALSO, sleeping is getting difficult too because I'm fucking bony man. Like, I can't sleep on my side with my knees together because they just jab into each other, so I have to spread them out while on my side. But then since they're spread out it kinks my back again and it's annoying. Or my hips dig into the springs because there's no more cushion on them.

Ummmm...

I start my new job at Home Outfitters as their visual merchandiser on Wednesday so I guess that's cool. Makin' money and shit.

Honestly though, I was really hoping Starbucks would call me back haha right now, I really want a job with no responsibility. Something easy going and non-stressful. Being a visual merchandiser, you've got a lot riding on your shoulders. I mean, I'm responsible for the store's appearance. That's kind of important, you know?

AND this job is more like, "interior design merchandising" as opposed to "fashion merchandising". So I'm doing something I've never done before. And know what else? I'll have to make beds... I SUCK AT MAKING BEDS. ALWAYS HAVE, ALWAYS WILL.

Like, I can make a bed. But it takes me forever.

Also, they've never had a visual merchandiser in there before so I'm filling a brand new position. That means people are going to be very interested in wtf I'm doing. Don't you just love people staring at you and judging your work Mint?

NO, NO I DO NOT.

My life is very conflicting. I crave attention but most times, when I get it, I hate it and want to crawl in a dark hole to die.

Whatever, whatever. Experience, money, and exercise. That's all I need in a job and I've got it. Who knows though, maybe Starbucks will hit me up haha

Another thing I should note before I go is that I need to focus on making my goddamn portfolio the next little while so I can get into fashion design school. It's been on my list for two years now, wtf is my problem?

Maybe I'll write another post tomorrow about more of my stresses with BB. Actually, I probably won't because he has tomorrow off. I'm hoping we can go to a park :3

SUNDAY, Sunday I'll update y'all.

Love you, hope everyone is doing alright. ♥

- Mint.

HALLELUJAH!

Hi,


I have a lot to say but I don't want to say it because I'm tired and stressed.

Which is weird because a blog is meant to destress you but whatever, apparently I'm just useless.

I just wanted to showwwwww youuuuuuu thissssssss!!!H!UIGB!EHLGE!IUG!UIUE!

YES THAT'S CORRECT

I

MINT THE FATSO HAVE FINALLY REACHED THE 120S

FINALLY

AFTER YEARS OF TORTURE AND ANGUISH AND DEFEAT

I AM HERE

BY EATING HOT DOGS AND PIZZA AND EVERYTHING 2011 MINT WOULD SCREAM AT.

Don't get me wrong here, it's not like I'm gorging myself with all this shit. It's that I eat one meal a day, and I haven't binged in at least a solid year.

My weight isn't yo-yoing from weeks of fasting followed by binging because I didn't reach my goal. My weight is stable because of me not starving.

Some days I eat a bit more, some days I eat a bit less.

Some days I eat hot dogs with the buns, other days I just eat a salad, other days still I skip eating because I'm too busy drinking.

It's amazing. I've never looked at myself this much before. Not because I'm beautiful now (oh god no, I'm the furthest thing from that) but because I don't believe I'm this tiny.

I have a natural pear shape so I've got the hips and the butt. These are the parts I've always hated the most, and the parts that have hardly ever changed throughout my years of battling my reflection.

BUT NOW? Things are moving. I have underwear that is getting too big for me. Like wtf?

I'm a size 8 in pants now which is the smallest I've been since December 2011. I can even fit into the jeans I've saved from grade 9 before said hips and butt smacked me in the face. They're a size 7 and I haven't been able to get them on/zipped up since grade 9. Since I was 14!! 9 years ago!!!!

Also, I am sooooo close to my thigh gaaaaaaaaaap! Ugh, it's driving me insane. Literally, there's one tiny spot where my thighs touch and it's the lightest kiss they could give. If I wiggle even the slightest while my feet are together, I'm telling you, those thighs are fucking apart.

My top was usually tiny but now it's like, pretty tiny hahaha ALL of my tops are too big. Even the tops I had in the back of my closet for those brief skinny times I've had are too big. It's awesome but because of the insane bagginess paired with my huge bottom half, it makes me look just as big as before and I hateeee it. It's so not fair.

Holy shit, I'm looking at the goals I have written on the side here and I'm almost at GW 2!! I forgot I had a GW 2 hahaha I thought it went 130, 125, 120, 115. But that's cute of me, giving me some pride for properly being in the 120s.

Also, I'm actually 5'9, not 5'8. Technically I'm 5'8 and three quarters but BMI wise and shit, it makes more sense to put 5'9. I should update that probably since I'm not at an embarrassing weight anymore hahaha

I seriously can't believe I'm here. A weight I've been chasing for like 8 years at least. I'm like fucking 4 pounds away from being classified as underweight. Right? 125 was underweight for me? I can't remember...

The key here for me is to not get too obsessed. Sometimes I can feel myself slipped by weighing myself multiple times a day, or trying to eat less and less, but I've just got to distract myself and I'll just keep motoring along!

I will admit though that some foods have been giving me anxiety lately. And sometimes I get binge-like cravings. Or I'll start eating something and then spit it out because I suddenly feel that it's not worth the calorie-intake. So I should be cautious of that too.

Side-note: I can't remember how this came up in conversation but I was explaining to our friend Jordan about how I look at food as a number in a sense. And so I was telling him how it can get obsessive like for making a salad (see 2011's "La Salade"). To get my point across more I just kept prattling off more numbers matching to more foods until I ran out of breath and in the end he thought it was the weirdest thing in the entire world. Which is weird to ME because it seems like the most normal thing in the world. Food translates to numbers. It's not hard, it's easy to remember. It's just a different language I was brought up with (I'm bi-linguini-al, LUUUUUUL).

Anyway, that's about all I have to boast about. It's 2 in the morning right now so I should probably try to go to sleep now. My anxiety has been really bad at night since my suicide attempt, only when I have to go to sleep alone though (which is most days since BB works nights *sad face*).

BUT YEAH, LOVE YOU ALL EVEN THOUGH NO ONE READS THIS ANYMORE

(please come back I thrive on attention)

- Mint.

Should I stay or should I go now?

If I stay there will be trouble; if I go there will be double.

In the past two years of dating BB I've never debated leaving as much as I have been over these past two weeks.

There has always been reasons to go and reasons to stay, but the reasons that have been filling my head lately seem very logical and reasons that will not go away...

We fight constantly; I never get to see him, he never wants to see me.

He wants me to be a house wife. Someone who will look after him and his needs. Someone who will always be there waiting for him to be graced with his presence.

That is someone I've never ever wanted to even be like. I am a romantic yes, however I'm not in the 1950s. I'm someone who longs for an ever-lasting love, a love of equality.

Sure, I'd do the whole kid thing for him but only if we'd both do the raising and caring and providing.

Other than that, I think I'll never be able to fully trust him. I'm always worrying that he's cheating on me. I'm always worrying that he doesn't truly love me. I'm always worrying that I'm being used.

The worst thing in the world would be to have a family with him and then years past my prime he cheats on me with a younger girl and leaves me with three kids I don't want.

I don't want that. I don't want to risk that. I don't want a life where we're always fighting and I'm always worrying and always mad at the possibility of him flirting with other girls behind my back.

'Cause you know what? He still fucking talks to Shelby. This girl who lives in the city we live in and has been bothering my relationship since August 2014.

It began with me finding out that they sent selfies to one another, and that he would always lie about where our relationship was to her, that he would talk to her whenever we were in a fight, that they "missed" each other, that she wanted him to visit her, that she didn't like seeing pictures of me with him...

He always says there's nothing there and that he would never cheat. He always says she has a boyfriend, but isn't that  how cheating works?

I even texted her once saying she could have him because I was sick of her ruining my relationship every time it was going good. She replied calling me a jealous bitch, saying she already had a boyfriend, and that she would do whatever the fuck she wanted.

Now, I've been in the situation before where I've been really good friends with a guy who's girlfriend gets jealous and defensive. Which is totally understandable. Whenever this has happened to me, and I don't want to lose my friend, I make an effort to talk to the girl. I make an effort to explain that I don't want to step on toes, I don't want to steal her man, and I tell her how important the friendship is to me and why. I'm always very respectful and it always ends up going well.

NOW, IF YOU WERE SHELBY, WANTING TO CONTINUE TALKING TO BB AS A FRIEND WOULDN'T YOU THINK SHE'D TRY TO MAKE ME FUCKING LIKE HER?

What's worse is I found out that he was talking to her the night I was trying to kill myself. I was in a bathtub filled with my own blood and my boyfriend was saying "Heeeeeeeey" to a girl who was asking him to come visit her at work.

He also always deletes their conversations so I can never know all of the conversations they've had...
SHE'S EVEN PHONED HIM BEFORE.

So, this is bothering me like really bad. It gets worse and worse and worse and I think I might just leave him because of that. I've asked him to stop talking to her many times. I even sneakily blocked her number on his phone before, but nothing works, they still talk behind my back.

Like, if this girl is soooo important that he'd risk his relationship just to talk to her, then fuck, talk to her all you want because I'm done.

The problem is I'm waiting to get my damage deposit back after our lease is up at the end of June, and I'm waiting to sell this shitty car I used when my actual car was damaged.

After those things are taken care of, I can leave and go back to Kelowna. This city is too ghetto for me anyway.

Obviously this is a big decision. Obviously I've been thinking about it for a while now. Well two weeks ago I guess hahaha ohhhh suicide attempts, always getting you thinkin'...

I'd like to see this all work out. I'd like for my relationship to keep going. I would, I really would.

I'm going to have a talk to him about this tomorrow actually, and tell him that I'm deciding by the end of the month, just so it doesn't seem so sudden. I'm scared to talk to him though for obvious reasons. I mean no one would like to have that talk. I just know he's going to be mad about it, but it's bothering me too much.

I mean, I almost left last weekend. My clothes are still all packed...

Ugh, it's scary too; being alone again.

BB is the only guy I've ever been attracted to ever. The only one I ever thought I'd be with.

Thinking about kissing anyone else, having sex? It grosses me out, I don't like it.

Thinking about BB kissing someone else, having sex? Bringing them to meet his friends? To meet his family? I think about it so much. The girl that I could never be...

I imagine her shorter and skinnier with thick, curly, chocolate brown hair. She's Italian like me but her family is actually a family and BB loves it. She's so much fun and makes him smile, makes him laugh. She makes him the person he wants to be. The person I tried so hard to help him become...

She goes camping with him and they get into all sorts of trouble and his friends think she's the best thing since sliced bread. She even brings them all food when she's invited to hang out. She's amazing and her mind is healthy and I hate her and she makes me cry because I'm not her.

I don't wanna go... but I don't know if I can stay.

I'm really sad and anxious and don't know what to do.

- Mint.

You're my downfall, you're my muse. My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues.

I really messed up. I tried to kill myself a couple days ago and I really hurt BB with my actions.

I don't know what triggered it. BB works nights and I work days. This particular day he worked overtime and was due home at about 9 in the morning. But he owed his coke friend some money so decided to stop there first.

But he was gone for so long, I was getting worried he wouldn't bring the car home in time for me to work.

Also, the day before I sold my beloved broken civic and bought this escape that BB has always wanted. It was supposed to be "our" car. Like a family thing and we could go camping and have sex in the back and there's a sunroof. It was exciting kinda and I was just happy that I could get him something he's always wanted.

Anyway... he said he's going to be home soon and he isn't. He keeps saying he'll leave soon, but he doesn't.

Suddenly I get an email transfer for 30 bucks and I start freaking out. I phoned him and asked if the 30 was for a cab and he said yeah and I flipped.

Something about how he didn't love me, how he didn't respect me, how he got the car he wanted and then was gonna leave me, how he was probably hanging out with girls as we spoke.

I don't know. I freaked out and refused to cab. I told him that he needs to return what he took from me (the car). And he said no, and that I should cab to work or to the car.

That wasn't an option in my head apparently. So I texted my boss saying I couldn't come in. She said if I didn't come in I was fired because I didn't go in on Monday because I overdosed on my medication due to alcohol and was too fucked up.

So after that I blocked her number, blocked the store's number, and told BB that I was going to end it.

I grabbed the left over bottle of vodka (1/3), grabbed a bunch of scissors and my pencil sharpened razor and locked myself in the bathroom.

I waited for a bit to see how BB would reply but he didn't. So I went to work on myself.

After awhile I decided to run a bath because I heard that it makes the blood flow quicker/your veins surface due to the heat.

I don't like thinking about what happened after. It happens in flashes.

The water slowly getting darker and darker.

Me getting drunker and drunker, angrier and angrier with every breathe...

I texted BB angry notes about how he never loved me. I wrote suicide notes confessing my love to him.

My phone dropped in the water at some point. Still works.

I was getting angry that I wasn't dead yet and worried that I wouldn't die. So I started cutting everywhere. Harder and more frequent.

The bath water was like a dark chocolate brown with a red hue in it.

At this point I remember laughing about stuff and crying about stuff and talking in a really weird voice. I don't remember what was said but I don't think I'd want to remember anyway...

I remember texting gibberish to BB thinking that he'd "just know" what I meant. But then I remember getting mad at myself because Iwas acting more fucked up than I was; which isn't true at all.

I got bored of the tub (I had drained and refilled it 3 times) so I ran and got BB's sleeping pills and figured I'd just drown in my own blood. When I was up I made sure to lock all the doors/windows and put the chain lock on the main door so BB wouldn't be the one to find me first.

There were only 4 left in the packet and I could only open 3 of them but fuck, it worked fast.

Suddenly, I decide dying in my own blood is stupid. I decided that I'd cab to the car and drive it over a cliff.

I text BB asking where the car was but that's when I was almost gone. I got up to get dressed but passed out in bed, bleeding all over my white towel.

This, btw all happened between 1-4 in the afternoon. But I remember it so clearly being in the middle of the night.

I woke to BB opening the front door and somehow removing the chain lock so he can come in. He turn on the lights and throws the blankets off of my and grabs my arm, then sees my other arm, then looks at my leg, and my other leg. I don't know what he's saying but he's mad at me and he's yelling at me. He goes to the bathroom and sees my notes and a bathtub full of blood and yells more.

I finally clue in when he says he's phoning my mom to come pick me up because I need help. She doesn't answer so he tells me to get dressed because we're going to the hospital.

I remember protesting and saying I'm fine and idk.

It's a long night of him yelling and threatening to hurt himself because of what I did (he's obviously drunk and high).

After a long few hours we end up putting all the sharp things in our room and sleeping in the living room because we don't trust each other. He sleeps on the floor and I sleep on the couch.

So in the morning he makes me phone my mom to talk about it and she says I should be committed for a bit because I need serious help apparently. I tell her no, I was just being dramatic.

Since then, BB won't look at me or talk to me really. He says I'm not the girl he fell in love with. That I'm embarrassing. That I hurt him really bad.

He did give me a piece of pizza yesterday though. And he does text me still to let me know that he got to work safely. And asks if I need anything when he goes out.

He's super angry though...  says he's thinking about what to do but I really think he deserves someone better.

I always mess up and hurt him so much. I always tell him I won't do it again, but guess what? I do it again.

I'm so hurt and miss him so much. I just want a hug... but I know he's afraid I'll break.

I weigh 130.4 now though so that's cool.

I wrote two poems after two years.

1. Nostalgia

For the dark hole I dug myself into years ago.

Nostalgia

For the nights I can't remember; the nights I can't seem to fucking forget.

Nostalgia

For cold metal digging into fat fucking thighs

(mommy why are they so big?)

For the blood spilling over,

The sound drops to the floor.

Nostalgia,

To be so blatantly the sad girl I still am.

(the girl I can no longer play with because she calls me names and gets me in trouble)

To be hiding but still open to express

No one to worry about aside from yourself

Because, who cares about you?

Nostalgia for when I had nothing

For when I was no one

For when I was a living ghost

I know you are a cruel jester; playing tricks in my head;

Trying to get me to take the splintered shovel once more

To jump into cold, dark, comforting surroundings...

But I love you,

And you pulled me out kicking and screaming.

Yet please understand, placement does not change what the mind is locked on to.

I'm just as dead as when you first met me

(just more sober with a little hope)

Hope that you're right; life is worth attending

(you've waken me up for this, please don't disappoint)

Oh how I long to sleep,

How I long to distract myself from my ever looming sadness with pain

Not from the heart

Quite the opposite in fact

Holes expelling from my own self-hatred

Nostalgia

How you toy with me my love...

For something I begged to be released from.

2. Please take a minute:

A timer you constantly add to,

When counting down my last.

My life being dragged out;

Stretched.

Always a fight.

Patch me up with a couple more; it'll fade but then we can do it all again

Stop holding me up like a smiling puppet

Happily and gracefully reading the lines you've provided

How long can a stern talking to keep me off the plank?

How long can a shake keep me stable?

How long can I bend until I break?

Reach until I fall...

Take your fist out of my ass.

I'm in too deep now to go abruptly,

To take the plunge.

Guess it's time once more to quietly fade away

To count the tics and the toks this life keeps echoing

Can you be as light as a feather?

Same old, same old

Same sad routine

Slow and steady wins this race,

You know how to play

You know this dance unfortunately well.

The one thing you're sort of good at:

Self-destruction.

Do you feel clever my little one?

You should be ashamed of your horror filled mind.

I'm a sad girl.

It has gotten really bad.

I don't remember the last time I've felt this depressed, this numb, or this empty.

I'm guessing somewhere around 2011 since that's the last time I've weighed anywhere in the 130s.

*clap*clap*clap*

For the last two weeks I've been taking the anti-depressants that were prescribed to me back in December... so I honestly don't know if I feel this way because I really feel this way or because the anti-depressants aren't feeling me.

I was depressed before I started taking them, but not this depressed.

HOWEVER, I had a job before I started taking them, so maybe the excess sadness is due to that.

I don't know.

All I really know is that I want to kill myself really bad. I want to waste away into the nothingness. I can't relate to anyone it seems. I don't care about anything. I'm full of hatred and I'm full of fear.

I normally feel all of the above but it's all so amplified right now.

I'm scared to leave the house now even when I'm with someone and I can't even fake interest in people's conversations. This results in feeling extreme anxiety, guilt, hate, and disgust with myself and I end up crying in a ball for most of the day.

Also, I'm overly attached to my boyfriend. He's like a security blanket I take everywhere. He's so patient with me.

Sometimes I push him away though because I feel like he shouldn't have to be with me all the time but then I freak about because I'm scared he'll leave me because I'm not happy enough. I have abandonment issues.

I don't know what to add... I think I just wanted to gloat about being in the 130s again. I'm so pathetic.

- Mint.

I'm getting really tired of blogging from my phone.

So BB and I made it to the city somehow.

I officially accepted my job this past Tuesday, we found an apartment Wednesday, and packed everything up and drove back to the city Thursday.

Now, BB and I have done a lot of illegal things before and we've gotten into a lot of stupid situations but what happened New Years Eve is ridiculous.

We had just gotten into the city, turned into our street and had gotten literally 5 blocks away from our apartment building when we get pulled over.

This is already alarming because BB doesn't have a license and he was driving.

I originally wanted to drive though because I didn't want to risk it on NYE but because we literally had so much in our car, I had to sit in the passenger seat because I could pretzel my body, and BB can not.

So, we get pulled over, for what? For BB forgetting to close our gas cap.

Once they had pulled us over and saw how much shit was in our car and how fucking dangerous it is to drive with like no vision, questions began.

The cop asked for BB's license and we said we didn't know where it was do to all the stuff. So, the looked him up on the system.

I don't know why he gave his real name as opposed to his brothers but whatever.

They look him up, say he doesn't have his license. BB says that he JUST got his learners and that his paper was in the lost wallet.

So they come over to me and ask for my license since my purse is right beside me.

I give them the license, they look me up, and they handcuff BB. Why? BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING NO CONTACT ORDER BEING IN EFFECT.

I was so scared and I was so mad all at the same time. Scared because I didn't know what ANOTHER breach would do to his case; scared because it was night time and I don't know the city; and mad because I told BB before we went to the city that we should go tell the court that we didn't want the contact order in effect; mad because BB would've been fine if he had just closed the fucking gas cap; mad because we were only FIVE FUCKING BLOCKS AWAY; and mad because my New Years was instantly ruined.

I started crying and hyperventilating and all that good stuff when the cops told me they were taking him. I told them that the crown is allowing us to hang out with each other  and that we just hadn't had the time to officially drop it because his grandma just died and this and that.

They told me that they couldn't see on the computer that anything with the order had been changed, and if it HAD been changed we would've been given a paper which we didn't have.

So yeah, they took him and I was all alone in a city I don't know, with all our belongings, on NYE.

It was sad walking into our first apartment alone. I didn't really know what to do. I just plugged my phone in and waited awhile to see if anything would happen.

The cops mentioned that if there was a change on the order it wouldn't be on the system they had in the car, but it would be on the system at the station. So if there HAD been a change he'd be released immidiately and everything would be hunky dory!

Not quite the case obviously.

I sat in our empty room waiting and waiting.

The RCMP had called my mom to tell her allll about it since she's the one who all communication between BB and I went through. Due to that fact her and I were fighting, AGAIN.

We've been fighting for the past month really. About a lot of things. About BB, about me leaving... about BB.

She was telling me to go out and get the stuff from the car because it would be broken into if I didn't. I said I was too scared and that there was a LOT of stuff to bring up and I didn't want to do it alone. She said that the cop told her that the neighborhood we're in is SOOO terrible and that I'm not safe at ALL. I said shut up its fine.

I texted B with no reply, and I texted BB's friend whom I'm friends with and all he said was "shitty".

Shitty indeed. I didn't even have the vodka hockey stick that BB and I were going to celebrate with.

I eventually texted M, my friend from high school who lives near me. I really didn't want to though since I haven't seen her for years other than the day before when I saw her walking to work.

I texted her and she called me immidiately asking if I needed her to come over to help get the stuff from the car or to just hang out.

She was hanging out with a guy friend at the time so it was even better because I had some heavy shit.

After we got everything in we drank the hockey stick of vodka in jars with icetea juice crystals and sat on pillows in the living room.

I didn't hear from BB until after midnight. He said he just got his fingerprints taken and that he thought he'd be let out soon. He told me to stop drinking because he'd need me to pick him up.

Well, instead of stopping drinking, I talked to my friends and we decided to drink for 20 more minutes and then walk downtown to where he was (another 20 minutes).

We got there, couldn't go in, waited 20 minutes more, and then walked back.

M invited me to stay at her place for the night but I said that I wanted to stay at the apartment just in case he got dropped off by the cops or needed a ride home.

Her and the dude left, I made a bed out of pillows and stayed up until around 5, waking up at 7 without hearing from him.

It wasn't until around 11 am that BB called me again. We talked until they kicked us off the phone. He said that he was waiting to talk to the justice of the peace and that there was a really long line up before him.

After hearing from him I felt better that he seemed calm and positive that he'd get out soon. I decided to unpack all the stuff we had brought in the night before just so that it seemed sort of homey for BB when he got home.

It wasn't until 5:30 pm that he phoned me asking to put $200 in his account for bail.

I immidiately texted my mom with no reply because she was driving in an area without service. So I texted my dad asking to call me.

He phoned and I had to explain why I needed $200 and the entire story that led up to that point. Luckily, he trusts in my decisions and lent me the $200.

So to speed things up a bit, there's still a no contact order (I guess BB lied about the crown saying it was okay to be together) but we can get it taken off on the 6th.

We're currently staying an hour out of the city with his auntie and uncle because the cop told me he'd come check the apartment to see if BB was breaching again.

And I start my first day of work tomorrow.

I wish this wasn't the weekend I had but whatever I guess. At least tomorrow I start making some fucking money.

- Mint.