Fragmentation

So again my bitch form tutor pretends to have a nice conversation with me and then sharpens his blade of sadism and presses the kife into my edentate back, disembowelling the vital organs from my back (basically I was stabbed in the back again lol)

That's how it feels when someone you once idolised looks upon you with contempt and pushes you into a pit of cement and subsequently breaks you free for a second only to push you back through the now solidified concrete ruins. 

So yesterday my form tutor was like 'ah what you reading' and I was like 'wuthering heights' and we had a nice convo about it :-) however, bathos when he asked me what I want to do at uni and I said 'eng lit' and then he basically told me I'll be incapable, saying 'you might want to reconsider/ think v carefully about that because you have to read a book a week'. Like before, he had snitched on me by the very next: today miss dyke was saying good morning to everyone whilst we were walking into the classroom but upon seeing me smile at her, she displaced hers with little more than a down-glaring stare of glacial contempt. When we'd sat down she started the lesson by pointing to me in front of everyone in the class (most weren't listening i hope) declaring 'so you haven't even read wuthering heights and you want to do english lit at uni where you have to read a book every other week' and literally I could hear my heart pulsating like even now I feel like there's a malevolent fist in my chest striking my rib cages and then she was just being so peak to me all lesson saying  telling me I shouldn't even be doing this course at a level bc I lack commitment and then I was like 'okay sorry' and then she was like 'no it's not okay bc....' and kept interrupting me and dismissing everything I was saying all lesson and it just crushed my dreams bc she was one of my favourite teachers but she hates me and so does everyone else now bc no doubt like before this hatred for me has permeated throughout and the repercussions are everlasting bc things like this, teachers will just hold against me forever.

Perhaps I should have finished It by now but don't think everyone else has and it's legit the most confusing and boring 420 page book ever which is only exacerbated by how it was written in the Victorian era when it takes about twelve chapters to say something like 'he picked up the pen'. 

I'm pretty poor at letting past troubles go but I'll try to explore the good:

- At least I won't miss her next year

- I always thought omg when I'm a teacher I want to be just like miss d, but since this isn't the first time this has happened I now know not to be a teacher bc evidently they have nothing better to do than bitch about ugly year 12s who love english lit more than life and know it's the only thing they're remotely not bad at (except watching a series a day on netflix) and thus crushing their dreams by basically telling me I'm a fragment of 

Also, lost my drama arts award, broke my bow tie, blazer hair, in a heat of anger I smashed up my room when I got home thus breaking my chair and breaking the wall slightly when I threw the dog cage against the wall and I've lost BOTH my headphones and I can't listen to music without it thus no escaping the abhorrence. Also when my mum came in I was just like 'um soz it was the wind' 

- Also why do they always assume I'm the only one??? 

Perhaps I'm overreacting - you may say it's just one bad day, but it's not just one bad day - do you know what it feels like to know you're so hated by everyone important and you're powerless to prevent it and you're hair is so ugly and you probably abhor yourself more than people who have to endure looking at the grotesque visage that constitutes you 

This is why I hate talking to people when it's not necessary because I'm fearful they'll just hate me but seems I've nothing to lose lol

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Anyway, if there's one thing Ive learned from literature, its that the human nature comprises inherent destruction. This is something that just cannot be forgiven. But Ive been thinking about things I must let go of, diminutive things that I still repress in my mind. It was deeps birthday a few weeks ago and I could have deleted a few photos to make space for whatsapp and sent him a cute happy birthday message devoid of supercharged typographical icons bcus (too old for kisses)

But I'll always remember when he came to visit that day in December 2012 or Jan 2013 and after giving him a hug like I used to basically every day he returned home from work, as if he'd never gone and no one had died in the seven months of his absence, one of his first comments to Amrine and I was "so I heard lodgers died and shit". Still reeling in my masquerade of tenebrosity from the loss of my queen and the hole in my soul, I hawed my newly found squeal of a gaffaw. Ofc the 'lodgers' was an allusion to the Reem (rip) and idk what he meant by 'and shit' but he better have not been implying the snowsephine but probably and to degrade her so remorselessly I just don't even know what to think. My mother has asked what happened and why I dont seem to like him when we were so close between August 2010 - May 2012 but this I just cannot explain. Lol could really do with my mum right now but I don't speak to her about my moroseness and I don't wish to burden her with this disgust, even if it means unburdening me slightly.  

And I remember how Deep illuminated upon seeing summer again after so many months and he was so gleeful; in contrast I was just like 'ok' and it hit him like a feather coated blade as he realised: 'you still miss snowy'. In response I did the thing where I spread my lips and elevate my head and eyebrows in a look of complacency to suppress the abhorrence. I'm aware the psychological phenomenon of 'semantic satiation' has occurred whereby the word 'abhorrence' has lost its meaning by now due to my past overuse and abhorrent abuse of it, but for once there is little to no disingenuousness: it is the most accurate word I can think of to describe my feelings - how else can I concisely express feeling so abhorred by something that haunts me and having this metaphorical wound so callously, but obliviously probed like its nothing.

werd of this blog: fortitude - strength during pain or adversity. Although I did not utilise this today is a poignant word for me because it reminds me of the poem 'On Going' by Owen Sheers, which I feel epitomises the word because somehow seeing Jean Sheers' strength during such fragility makes you fragment like me rn. When first reading the poem it did not help that I was listening to interlude by London Grammar simultaneously: if you want an intense emotional release combine these two bc legit I cried all evening when I read the poem for the first time whilst listening to such a morose song but slept pretty well that night bc crying is one of the ultimate cathartic, stress relieving, soporific releases. Actually I could really do with a cry, but I have not the power.

Usually on days like this I'd just eat half a jar of peanut butter and six packets of bourbons but all Ive consumed all day is a bannana and an orange lol what is happening to me

I just want to walk through a winter london listening to london grammar and feel the snowflakes melt as they dissolve into my skin and i become imbued with the glacial power.  

But to conclude can we please just appreciate the spiral on Monday? How did this even happen lol 🌀