Tell me in the Morning

Protected: What have I done to myself?

brittanyess — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 03:17:05 +0000

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Everyone should do this at some point.

brittanyess — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 09:48:26 +0000

An exercise to make me feel better.

Things I love About Myself [/cheesy]

The fact that my natural hair color is black
My sense of humor
My tastes
The fact that I’m respected, or I’m told I am anyway
My ability to have a sensible conversation
My photos
The fact that I have so many friends and I can’t keep up with them
My intelligence
The fact that I would do anything for my friends or parents
My originality
My resemblance to Anne Hathaway/Demi Lovato(even though she sucks)
My movie knowledge
The fact that I grew my eyebrows back (that one’s a little silly but my Body Dysmorphia/Trichotillomania kind of owned me in high school)
The fact that people have told me that I’m Audrey Hepburn-esque!
My lips

Those things aren’t always noticed by yours truly but sometimes they really are.

Protected: A sigh of relief.

brittanyess — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 00:18:08 +0000

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I seen the angel of death, he’s got snake eyes.

brittanyess — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 01:23:38 +0000

Tiff showed me this awesome thing of awesomeness. If movies didn't exist, or were discontinued, I'd probably jump off of a bridge.

This is all I want to say tonight,

Dear university,

please send me something in the mail before my brain explodes from worrying.

Love,

Brittany

PS, besides the receipt that states you got the admission fee.

What happens some nights.

brittanyess — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 06:02:20 +0000

I’m going to regret writing all of this, a lot of it doesn’t even make sense.

It’s all very bad for me and I can’t control it. I can’t comprehend, it was very random, and the days go by slowly and I’m lonesome and it hits me and I’m doing it again. I don’t think most people realize, or do they? I’m an excellent hider, or am I? Probably not at all. I’m obsessed and completely miserable over being appealing that my thoughts are coming out of my mouth and I’m speaking to myself, telling myself that I do not look the way I should. And it’s scary, terrifying, and it all goes in at once, a constant flow, and it’s great, and it’s fun, and I’m invincible.

Flavors and textures and temperatures and amounts and sweetness and saltiness.

I’ve found the perfect method.

It takes ages to come back out and my face is a mess and I lie down. Every night, or every afternoon, it happens at the very least, once. No one knows. I think it’s boredom, I’m so bored, everybody is boring, everything I see is boring, nothing is exciting. Everyone is too nice, everyone says the same thing, I’m too nice, I’m boring, I start to say the same things. Do I have the ability to make life better for myself? I think so.

I sound like I’m crazy, but really I just think too much. There’s a huge difference. Your thoughts become unorganized, therefore jumbled.

The special people that I’ve met; interesting friends, friends that share my interests, friends with weird quirks, weird cab drivers, cab drivers that tell stories, anybody with a meaningful story, sad people, irrevocably happy people, lost people, people that make me feel other worldly, people that can take me out of my comfort zone to explore things I’ve always wanted to, people that do not let me hold back, what would I ever do without you?

But I pulled you, and I called you here.

brittanyess — Sun, 20 Feb 2011 02:03:32 +0000

I haven’t seen anything remotely different from this island since 2005 and 2006, when I visited my dad in Rhode Island, we ventured through New England together, as well as our trip to Manhattan in the latter year, which was to this day, the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. I always try my best to remember exactly how I felt when we entered Times Square.

Now I’m working and striving towards leaving this place in the near future for good, where I can see something new and experience something new – leading to a permanent change in my happiness, I’m sure of it.

Winter in bloody Newfoundland, I'm proud of this photo.

I don’t even hate Newfoundland, I simply hate monotony and yearning for things and people that are far from me, and I realize I’ll have to get out on my own, which is perfectly fine, and I’m quite used to the independence that has been sprung on me as of late.

I’m not quite sure, but my disdain for everyday routines could be my downfall. I’m wondering if I spend too much time dreaming and fantasizing about leaving, as opposed to working towards it. But most nights I come home, tired, from you guessed it – working. I also make damn sure that I don’t spend a huge amount of money doing the same “pre drinks/accompanied by a downtown trip” routine every weekend, because yes, I’m trying to save money. I won’t spend a cent on things that are not needed anymore, because I have to keep the future in mind – and the future I’ll be having more fun, for working hard now. I’m not even sure what else I can do anymore, if anything, I’m way too responsible and refrain from having fun, unlike every other person that I know.

I haven’t shopped excessively in a while, I haven’t been really drunk in a while either – which to be honest, I find kind of boring now. I could care less about coming off as a prude right now.

I’ll be damned if I don’t get what I want. I’m getting out.

What else is new? Oh yes, BDD has turned itself into OCD with a still present hint of BDD. I still always carry my hairbrush and continuously primp myself without the ability to stop. I’ve noticed lately however, that I have been counting my things and money and socks and clothes, and making sure I haven’t lost any of it, which seems kind of stupid, but I’ve become obsessed with the idea of losing items that can be replaced easily. You wouldn’t really know how stressful it is until you’ve experienced a constant state of obsessive compulsions.

I’ll write about positives here. I’m still smiling and laughing at everything. Everything is still so fucking hilarious.

Been an awful good girl.

brittanyess — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 05:18:01 +0000

Yes, its Christmas time.

There is no such thing as a better Christmas movie than A Christmas Story. Oh you think there is? Im sorry, you are wrong.

There is no such thing as a better Christmas song than Santa Baby. Oh you think there is? Im sorry, you are wrong.

I almost cried I think maybe 6 times today, all the while telling myself that when I get home I can finally just bawl my eyes out. And I did, and it felt good. I cried so hard I fell asleep. I cried so hard I did not dream while sleeping. I woke with a headache, and now I am writing in the forgotten blog of sob stories.

The reasons for me almost crying 6 times today? Metrobus went on strike. No, I am not lazy and incapable of walking, I used to do it all the time. My new house is just simply really far from everything on foot, due to the fact that there are absolutely no shortcuts. I spend so much money on cabs going back and forth to work that its kind of becoming a running joke. Im spending so much of my parents money on actually making my own money and I feel overwhelmingly guilty for it, and sometimes they really just dont have it. Thank you very much, Metrobus. I swear when they come back Im throwing tomatoes at the first driver I see.

Im not going to say its the only reason Im so stressed out, but its the biggest reason. If they were not on strike I wouldnt feel half as bad.

I really cannot wait for roughly two weeks from today. Many good things happen all at once. Refreshing, considering that many bad things usually happen all at once.

Things I have realized,

I SERIOUSLY HATE THE SOUND THAT CATS MAKE WHEN THEY CLEAN THEMSELVES WITH THEIR TONGUE. IT IS EQUIVALENT TO NAILS ON A CHALKBOARD.
I am way too fucking nice. I do not stand up for myself.
Someone would be lucky to have me, I think.

Will write again over Christmas. The greatest time of the year.

Your voice is swallowing my soul soul soul soul.

brittanyess — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 22:59:15 +0000

When I’m alone all day, I feel like this.

The following paragraph is the result of a mild panic attack, the likes of which I haven’t experienced in a while:

I’m not pretty enough and I’m fat and the less I eat the more I worry about being fat because my body isn’t receiving proper nutrients. I see photos of stick thin women with less than appealing faces yet they are considered beautiful because they are stick thin. I’m probably not even fat, but I feel so fat. Fat Fat Fat. I want to get out of here, someone just get me out of here. My job is unrewarding, and I can’t get a better one because I don’t have the fucking time to find a better one. I can’t quit smoking. I tried and I can’t do it. I feel like I’ve failed at everything I have tried. I feel like a bad person. I feel selfish, and lazy. I feel ridiculously ashamed. I feel stuck. I feel trapped. I feel like no one wants me around. I feel scared because traditional OCD is starting to hit me. I’m always organizing things that need not be organized – and I never was like that. I panic because my hair isn’t straight enough when I leave the house – I always was like that. I’m starting to hate my personality. I feel mean and boring. I’m angry at myself because I don’t take the time to take photos anymore. It drives me crazy when people ask me “why aren’t you doing anything with photography?” – “I’m not doing anything with photography because I don’t have the money for better equipment just yet, but I will” so please for the love of god stop asking me that! Also, I’d prefer modeling, as I’ve said 6034532567 times. But I assume I’m not good enough for that, because my face grows fatter. And everything is going to fall apart again.

Update.

brittanyess — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 04:07:45 +0000

I am much too busy lately to write a proper entry. I will before the end of the month, however.

I haven’t felt this happy in years. With the assistance of friends, I got there on my own. Please last.

The Truth. (Fast blood)

brittanyess — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 11:52:17 +0000

Experts say you should keep a journal when you have manic depression. They also note that it should be kept private. Until I read that, I thought the website I was reading was highly beneficial and helpful. NO, I do not believe that a journal chronicling depression should be kept private. I firmly stand behind the fact that if I didn’t show my blog to anybody, my thoughts would implode upon myself and… I’d hate to have to write this because I come off as being extremely self important, but I want people to know that women like me can become very unhappy. I say this only because the majority of people I meet are somewhat surprised that somebody that “looks like you” is so very sad. FYI, I am so very sad because I look like me, I think. I have to keep looking like me and the fear that I will someday not look like me is too much for me to handle.

I appreciate every single compliment that I get. I am not going to sit here and deny that I need compliments more than I need protein. If I receive a genuine compliment regarding my appearance… it keeps me going for the rest of the day. It’s like fuel. It’s undeniably pathetic, and a little terrifying… but so very true. My whole purpose in life is to be beautiful. I don’t have much left if I’m not beautiful.

I’m home until Sunday, and on Sunday I move in with Jennifer Hunt from Gander(Rad chick, dig her, always thought she was cool). But yesterday, I went outside for a cigarette and then I said I wanted to spray myself with perfume so I didn’t smell like Johnny Depp’s basement. My step dad told me that if I didn’t want to smell like cigarettes then I shouldn’t smoke. [sarcasm]I honestly felt like I was going to pass out from the epiphany I was experiencing.[/sarcasm] I didn’t understand why he said this for two reasons. 1) He smoked for like 20 years up until 2 years ago, and 2) He knows I feel like shit lately(you’re blind if you don’t). Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to make a snide comment for absolutely no reason? You think I don’t realize that smoking is unhealthy and stupid? Nah, I am a firm believer that smoking is the cure for most types of cancer. C’mon.

The dining room window from home that I'm obsessed with, and I.

Anyway, the reason that I mentioned that was because sometimes when I’m home I feel very alone. I don’t think any person in my life that has a “parent” label – (my mom, dad, step dad) truly understands me. Loves me? Yes. And I love them. But they will never know what I feel. That’s okay, though.

Random thing I found funny – I think Coco is the reincarnation of Joan Crawford. While I was away, she became an almost 24/7 outdoors cat. I just looked at her and asked(as if she were a person, I know) if she wanted to come inside. She looked at me and glared like I was a useless bitch and stormed off into the woods to torture birds. I think it’s hilarious because she looks like this fluffy, little, prude princess… but is actually totally hardcore and bad to the bone. She could give all of the unloved, homeless cats in St John’s a run for their money. The main reason being, she has 8 million layers of fluffy, multi-colored fur to shield her. But she’s also really fat, so I don’t know.

To conclude this entry, I plan on being a very social person when I move back to the city. Getting to know my new roommates well and their friends, as well as sticking with my oldest friends, and reconnecting with friends I made this summer and haven’t seen in a while. This is the only thing I can think of that will help with my sadness. That’s not to say I’m not extremely tempted to give up, because I am. But I’m so young. I have to keep telling myself that I’m so young.

I just want to be happy.

Song I am currently obsessing over = Fast Blood ~ Frightened Rabbit