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Depression.
It's a strange thing. It starts with a few snide comments, a few jokes here and there. A few weekends you stay at home and fall asleep at 7 just so you don't need to think anymore. Before you know it, you're sneaking vodka in to your room late at night and only finding solace in the thousands of cigarettes you smoke out of your bedroom window at one in the morning and the razor blade you keep under the flowerpot in your bedroom, knowing that nobody'll ever think of looking under there. Everything becomes your fault. Everything makes you want to just crawl in to a ball on your floor and cry your eyes out - it's all you do anymore. By the end of the day your eyes are too sore from all the crying to stay open and you can't talk anymore because your mouth is too tired from the fake smile you've had sewn on to your face from the moment you woke up until the second you collapse on to your bed, too spent to even undress. Everyone's wrong - once you fall in to this place there's absolutely no way to truly leave it. It stays with you - you just bury it away, pretend it doesn't exist. Eventually you've lied to yourself enough to think that you're past it, but no. You always go back. You stay there and, one sweet, merciful day, you forget how to breathe and, along with it, how to find your way back to that place.
For better or worse,
Lenore.
I had a doll, once.
My next-door neighbor got her for a birthday years ago. The doll's name was Victoria, and she was perfect. Perfect brown, curly hair that went perfectly with her perfect red velvet dress and perfect, warm brown eyes set in a perfect, pale porcelain face. Perfect in every way, absolutely flawless in a way humans can never be. She was beautiful.
I hated that doll.
To be honest, it was nothing against her. She and I just never got along. She was content to live at the top of my closet, being perfect, and watch while I went outside and played and got dirty and imperfect. My mom always said to me that I could never take her outside, otherwise I'd drop her and she'd get dirty and she wouldn't be perfect anymore. But you know me - I couldn't resist.
I waited until my dad had gone to work and my mom had left the house. I took the doll out of my closet and in to the garden. All her perfect hair started falling out and her perfect porcelain skin got dirty and her perfect dress got crumpled and stained. She wasn't beautiful anymore. I heard my mom pull in to the driveway and I ran inside. I don't think I've ever run that fast in my life. I took off the doll's dress and took it to the bathroom to soak the stains out of it, like I saw my mom do. It didn't work. In fact, the dress was ruined. I just put it back on the doll and stuffed her back in my closet, hoping and praying my mom would never find out.
I never saw that doll again. I don't know if my mother found her or not; she never mentioned it. I don't know if she was always just hidden at the top of my closet, then lost again as we started moving from place to place. I like to think, though, that she left. I like to think that, once she tasted the sun and the sky and the dirt that she couldn't go back in to my closet. Once I had broken her beauty, made her imperfect, she couldn't stay locked away and go back to that life of perfection, go back to that life of watching me be imperfect. She just...couldn't.
For better or worse,
Lenore.
So I'm apparently going more and more insane as the days go by - so insane, in fact, I have no idea how to put it in to words. This, my dears, astounds, confounds and pronouns me. AiLynn feels like a failure and, being as small as I am, I only have room for one feeling at a time, as you can probably tell. Failure is okay when you're not three inches tall - when you're that small it consumes you, eats you from the inside out and turns you in to a horrible shell of what you once were.
I am afraid.
For better or worse,
Lenore.
AiLynn and I had a wonderful walk home in the rain today. It was the first real storm this year, and it was all rather calming. After what's been happening with us these past few weeks, we needed it. Rain is therapeutic - that's why I wouldn't really mind us living in a place where the weather's shit. At least there'd be less clutter in this mind for me to bother cleaning up.
The Drama exams were yesterday and Monday, and apparently ours went really well. Vitch said that she was very proud of us and that it had become an amazing show, which shows quite a turn around from her previous judgment. At least Doll only screwed up once, and to our surprise, Boat didn't do anything wrong. He'd always made a few small mistakes in the rehearsals, but small mistakes can ruin the whole piece.
The Sevens are this weekend. I have a feeling something big is going to happen - I don't know what, just yet. Not knowing is, in itself, horribly frightening.
For better or worse,
Lenore.
I once told AiLynn that, when you die, every animal you ever loved runs up to you to say hi. I know that Belle will be one of them.
Rest in peace, beautiful.
For better or worse,
Lenore.
Vitch decided that we're 'not good'. Her exact fucking words. Since she's our Drama teacher and all she sort of decides our fate. And I'm working with Doll. She can barely speak English. And, me with my horrifying expectations, I convinced Ailz to put Jabberwocky in the script. AiLynn should know better than to listen to me.
And she said that we were bad.
At the moment I'm busy throwing shit around my corner of the mind and screaming about how much of a bitch she is, but AiLynn is calmly trying to figure out how to condense Alice, The Mad Hatter and The White Rabbit in to one, which makes it increasingly hard for me to find anything tangible enough to throw around minus brain matter. AiLynn would not appreciate that. The thing is, this is the final exam. And, although I could not give less of a shit about exams, AiLynn does. And she's the one who controls the body, so she makes the rules.
Or so she says.
For better or worse,
Lenore.
Last night Wreckage, AiLynn and I decided to change a little corner of the world. We need to bring the fight for LGBTQ equality to the place where we spend the most time - our school.
What have you done to change the world today?
For better or worse,
Lenore.
Welcome, one and all, to It's Raining in Wonderland. My name is immaterial, but you may call me Lenore. I am also known by the names Len (if you catch me in a good mood), Suixide or AiLynn. Because, well, people don't know I exist, most of the time. All they ever see is the body I live in. AiLynn's body. It's hard sharing a mind - there's so much shit in here all the time. So many girls (of which I'm not exactly complaining - by the bye, we're both quite lesbian) and so many pieces of work that like to flutter insistently around the corners. And never mind the fact that neither of us have much of an attention span, which makes things difficult. See, if we could concentrate, we could probably clear it out. But we can't.
So fucking deal with it.
I guess the 'what's going on in my life' bit goes here, right? That's what AiLynn says anyway. What's happening now...we moved to The House Friday. Friday was also the first time Pear, AiLynn and I (except it was mostly them - AiLynn doesn't say much during fights. She knows if she did that I'd take over, and we'd probably end up busted for the shit I'd say) fought. Well done, children. Actually, surprisingly enough, AiLynn is more of an adult than Pear. And he's almost three times our age.
The other members of the family unit weren't exactly helpful. Sweets and Liz, it seems, are conspiring against myself and my residence to make our lives less than great. The most dastardly of these - the plot to keep myself and AiLynn home on a Saturday night. We need our alcohol. We need our girls.
Oh, that reminds me. We went to a fashion show last night, and she was there. It was actually interesting to see that our heart still wasn't quite over that, and was still stubbornly (look at that alliteration!) pining over her. She's not that special, really. Nobody is. Nobody is really worth all the shit we put ourselves through. But...I don't know. Maybe she is, and that's why our heart fell three stories the moment we spotted her in that crowd. Maybe that's why...
I don't know. AiLynn and I are going to get breakfast.
For better or worse,
Lenore.
