Me, Myself And I All Hate You

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Mum woke me up pounding at my door. “For fucks sake, stop locking the fucking door!” she screamed.

I wearily got up. “I’m sorry,” I said groggily. “I woke up in the middle of the night-”

“Shut up and get downstairs.” I heard her storm away, cursing under her breath.

Daniel pulled himself up. “What’s wrong with her?” He had given up on growling at her, as she never heard a word he said. Still, there was a familiar quiet anger radiating from him that I hadn’t seen in a while.

“Calm down,” I said to him. “I’ll just go down to breakfast, okay?”

That was probably the worst thing I could’ve done that day. You would’ve thought that after nearly seventeen years of this, I’d be used to it by now, or at least that’s what I thought. I entered the dining room bracing myself for another foul mood.

When I sat down, Mum began to speak. “I do too much for you,” she announced.

I held my tongue and started eating breakfast.

“That’s why you’re like this. Why you think you can get away with being a ratbag. You’re ruining your life with this, you know.”

Here we go.

“You’re a lazy, useless excuse. You never do anything for me.”

I pretend to be mentally stable, I hide my scars from people so that they don’t ask you about it, I keep quiet about the fact that I want to kill myself so that you don’t get even more stressed and hysterical…

“You’re so dramatic about everything,” she scoffs. “How it works is if I do anything that upsets Princess here, you have a tantrum and get sent to Helen, and I’m the bad guy again! That’s all they are, tantrums. It’s called attention seeking madam, and I’ve had enough of it.”

Bitch.

That’s not my voice though. Kaya?

“That medication would’ve helped you, but noooooo, you just had to keep up with the drama! No wonder you’re failing all your classes!”

One more push, and I’ll slit your throat, Kaya hisses in my head.

Kaya. No. “I’m not failing,” I murmur. “I’m keeping up with the work now.”

My mother scoffs. “Yeah, and how long is that going to last? You’re lazy. You’ll fall behind again, no doubt about that. And then I’m going to be the villain again because you’re a selfish, lying drama queen!”

Suddenly, my hand reaches for my bowl and lifts it up, over Mum’s head. I can almost see it smashing down, ceramic shattering, blood spilling out…

“Stop it!” I scream out loud. By some miracle, I manage to gain a split second’s control, and I turn to the left so that the bowl hits the floor. “Just stop!” I shriek, not quite sure whom I’m actually speaking to. I’m sobbing, and Mum screams and pelts me with her fists, and I can’t do anything because I’m so fucking useless in Reality.

I sweep up the shards afterwards while my mother types an abusive email about me to whoever reads them, and at some point, I decide to not be entirely useless. “You don’t have to scream at me just because you’re dying of cancer,” I tell her.

“I’m not.”

Too bad. I throw the shards away in the bin and go upstairs and buckle over. But someone catches me.

“Come on,” Daniel breathes into my ear. He holds me up and drags me into my room. “Easy does it now.” He shuts the door behind us and pulls me close to him. “It’s okay now…it’s alright…”
_______________________________________________________________________________

Much later, I felt better. Probably because I spent the journey to school madly singing British pop songs. It’s even more effective than crying. If only people couldn’t hear you as much.

“I’ve had a think about it,” I said to Daniel. “And I’ve decided not to let her hurt me anymore. I mean, I’ll probably forget to do this later, when I’m depressed and suicidal, but this is what I’m thinking right now.”

Daniel nodded. “Go on.”

I inhaled. “I am starting to get in control of my life,” I started. “Or at least I’m feeling that way. I think that I’m now in a place where I can begin to smile and let myself be happy again. It probably won’t stay that way, knowing my luck. But there’s absolutely no reason why I should stop right now, just because of what my mother says.

“I think she’s like me. She has trouble being happy, and she can’t express that properly. I’m the same.”

Daniel shook his head. “You don’t accuse her of being an attention seeking liar.”

“I do call her other things though,” I pointed out. “Emotionally unstable, hysterical, selfish, close minded.”

“She is those things though.”

“And that’s true to me,” I continued. “Just like all those things are true to her. Our minds are determined to believe what they want to. Does that make sense?”

Daniel paused. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I refuse to believe that you’d be cruel enough to tell a recently suicidal person that they’re lying, that they’re not really in pain.”

“Hush,” I hissed.

“Cat,” he sighed. “It’s not right. It’s as if you can’t be happy if she isn’t. She’s just going to keep hurting you.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I only have to deal with it for two more years. Not even that, actually. Then I can move out and live my own life away from her. After I get a job and find a flat.”

“You’ve got to go through that bridging course though,” he reminded me.

“True…so less than three years.” I had met with my school a week ago to discuss my schoolwork, and they decided to put me onto an alternate pathway into uni. It basically means I’m now doing easier courses and I don’t have to take the big exam at the end of Year 12. It does mean that I have to complete a certificate course in IT in order to graduate, and take an enabling course the next year in order to get into uni, should I wish to go. “But I can still work, and get a job. That might be better actually. I can save up money for a year and once I have enough to actually start renting, I can move out.”

Daniel looked a little skeptical. “I know it’s a lot harder than that,” I admitted. “But I don’t need to get into detail right away, do I? One step at a time.”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

I hesitated for a moment. Very rarely did I ask Daniel about his past. It was something I had learnt very early not to enquire about, and later I realised how guilty he felt about it, for leaving it behind. But it was an innocent question. “What did you do when you finished school?” I asked.

“Me? Hmm.” He frowned. I waited for him to continue, and after an eternity, he sighed. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Oh god, what did you do?” My mind started going through all the ridiculous careers; professional clown, ballet dancer, porn star.

“Firefighter,” he said, going a bit red.

“No way…” My eyes were probably popping out of my head. “That is wicked.”

Daniel closed his eyes and shook his head. “Immediately regretting that decision.”

“That’s so cool!” I crowed. “And nothing like what I was expecting.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”

“Porn star,” I replied.

Daniel stared at me. “You’re a looney,” he finally replied.

“Yeah.” I grinned at him. “Little bit.”

“So you’re going to go to uni,” he quickly continued our previous conversation. “You’re certain of that. What about your mother then? Are you going to see her after that?”

I didn’t know how to answer. “I’m undecided,” I said slowly.

“Really?”

“There are times where I love her and times where I hate her,” I reminded him. “I guess it depends whether or not I forgive her or not.”

“Do you?”

“I’m undecided,” I repeated. “All I know is that she’s not going to stop me from being happy. And if she’s going to belittle me for the rest of my life…well, I don’t see why I should stay around to hear it.” I pressed the button to stop the bus, leapt up and gathered up everything in a rush to get off in time. Daniel and I started to walk toward my house. “I don’t think of family the way everyone else does,” I said quietly. “I hope it’s different when I have one of my own. Well, if I have one of my own. But I’m never going to put myself before my child. I’m never going to torment them and tell them they’re horrible people. Because they’re not. No one is. Not even Mum when you think about it.” I made a face. “I’ll probably be one of those parents that just lets their kid run wild because they’re too afraid of their children hating them.”

“You’ll learn,” Daniel said encouragingly. “You’ll have help from the people around you, your partner, friends, whatever. But more importantly, your child would grow up knowing that they could come to you for support, no matter what.”

I smiled. “Silly. But thanks.”

We walked together in silence for a while. “Porn star, huh,” Daniel mused. “I had no idea you had such a high opinion of me.

I stuck my tongue out. “Shush.”

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Days of Dellusions

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Not sure how often I should update this thing. Sometimes it takes a while to come up with ideas for you nonexistent people to read, and things are always changing. Plus, I try to make something reminiscent of a life, meaning I can’t always be on my iPad. You see, if I have a life, I have something else to talk to my iPad about instead of things I hate about humanity. So maybe once every few days…depending on what’s happening of course.

Like my days can be pretty random. There are days where I stay firmly planted in Reality, and others where I am hallucinating all over the place.

Speaking of hallucinations….

Daniel is in a bad mood. Last night, I was playing May I with my family- which currently consists of my mother, father, my alleged brother who shalt be known by the name Tigger, and my Oma and Opa, who have come to stay for two weeks. More on them later. But anyway, we were in the middle of the third round (two runs, for any imaginary reader who knows the game), when all of a sudden, I heard swear words. A loooooong succession of them. It didn’t stop for the whole game, and as soon as it was over, (I came last, again) I stormed into my room to find Daniel snoring on my bed.

What would you do in this situation imaginary reader?

Obviously you’ve probably never had hallucinations- actually, if you have, message me! We can be delusion buddies! <3- but imagine that some asshole had charged into your house and made a huge noise, and that you had to make excuses to the people around you; "Oh, it’s just the, er, cat/dog/dinosaur,” you say to them, while secretly cursing their very existence. Aaaand then later, you find them fast asleep on your bed, blissfully unaware of their extremely pissed off friend/acquaintance/hallucinator.

^is that even a word? Hallucinator? If it is, is it a verb? Probably not. :p

So what would be the best revenge?

Without a second thought, I yanked my doona out from under him. The pile of clothes on my bed fell over my floor, and later I would be yelled at by my mother, but I was too busy radiating in the warm glow of Daniel’s resulting foul mood to notice.

After he had calmed down, he told me what was wrong. I didn’t understand it all, but I understood enough to understand why he would be angry. Lets just say that when your dear friend is in hospital, you would tend to be angry at the one(s) responsible.

Anyway, more on that for another emotionally unstable time. My grandparents are here from Adelaide, which is great. Only thing is, I don’t know what to talk to them about, because I see them so little- I usually only see them once a year at Christmas, where I have to talk to all my cousins. *Shudder*

But the awesome thing about them being here is that there is less yelling and screaming around the house. My mother you see, wants to show to her parents-in-law the perfect family; which is just as real as my fan base, (I’m sorry imaginary reader, it’s true. You only exist in my head, sorry to break it to you this way). So we all must keep up the appearance of a loving, wonderful family environment. Which means a lot less yelling, which means a lot less time spent in Delirium for me. It’s only a theory at this point though; there’s every chance my hallucinations could be just as bad even without the yelling. But it’s a plausible theory, and for the next two weeks, I can test it out. This may be the cause of everything that’s been happening, and I’m hoping something will come out of it.

Now…what was I doing before I was writing?

Oh! Maths class!

That’s right, I’m supposed to be a responsible student. One who would NEVER pass up a chance to do quadratic equations.

I’ve got modelling this afternoon, maybe that’s what my next post will be about. What do you imaginary readers think? Leave your imaginary comments down below, you know the drill.

Cat Madigan.

Days of Delusions

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Not sure how often I should update this thing. Sometimes it takes a while to come up with ideas for you nonexistent people to read, and things are always changing. Plus, I try to make something reminiscent of a life, meaning I can’t always be on my iPad. You see, if I have a life, I have something else to talk to my iPad about instead of things I hate about humanity. So maybe once every few days…depending on what’s happening of course.

Like my days can be pretty random. There are days where I stay firmly planted in Reality, and others where I am hallucinating all over the place.

Speaking of hallucinations….

Daniel is in a bad mood. Last night, I was playing May I with my family- which currently consists of my mother, father, my alleged brother who shalt be known by the name Tigger, and my Oma and Opa, who have come to stay for two weeks. More on them later. But anyway, we were in the middle of the third round (two runs, for any imaginary reader who knows the game), when all of a sudden, I heard swear words. A loooooong succession of them. It didn’t stop for the whole game, and as soon as it was over, (I came last, again) I stormed into my room to find Daniel snoring on my bed.

What would you do in this situation imaginary reader?

Obviously you’ve probably never had hallucinations- actually, if you have, message me! We can be delusion buddies! <3- but imagine that some asshole had charged into your house and made a huge noise, and that you had to make excuses to the people around you; "Oh, it’s just the, er, cat/dog/dinosaur,” you say to them, while secretly cursing their very existence. Aaaand then later, you find them fast asleep on your bed, blissfully unaware of their extremely pissed off friend/acquaintance/hallucinator.

^is that even a word? Hallucinator? If it is, is it a verb? Probably not. :p

So what would be the best revenge?

Without a second thought, I yanked my doona out from under him. The pile of clothes on my bed fell over my floor, and later I would be yelled at by my mother, but I was too busy radiating in the warm glow of Daniel’s resulting foul mood to notice.

After he had calmed down, he told me what was wrong. I didn’t understand it all, but I understood enough to understand why he would be angry. Lets just say that when your dear friend is in hospital, you would tend to be angry at the one(s) responsible.

Anyway, more on that for another emotionally unstable time. My grandparents are here from Adelaide, which is great. Only thing is, I don’t know what to talk to them about, because I see them so little- I usually only see them once a year at Christmas, where I have to talk to all my cousins. *Shudder*

But the awesome thing about them being here is that there is less yelling and screaming around the house. My mother you see, wants to show to her parents-in-law the perfect family; which is just as real as my fan base, (I’m sorry imaginary reader, it’s true. You only exist in my head, sorry to break it to you this way). So we all must keep up the appearance of a loving, wonderful family environment. Which means a lot less yelling, which means a lot less time spent in Delirium for me. It’s only a theory at this point though; there’s every chance my hallucinations could be just as bad even without the yelling. But it’s a plausible theory, and for the next two weeks, I can test it out. This may be the cause of everything that’s been happening, and I’m hoping something will come out of it.

Now…what was I doing before I was writing?

Oh! Maths class!

That’s right, I’m supposed to be a responsible student. One who would NEVER pass up a chance to do quadratic equations.

I’ve got modelling this afternoon, maybe that’s what my next post will be about. What do you imaginary readers think? Leave your imaginary comments down below, you know the drill.

Cat Madigan.

Good?

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Imaginary reader, tell me this.

Are you a good person?

Think about it for a bit. Imagine that Jesus or God or whatever you believe in was looking at everything you’ve done in your life, and imagine what their reaction would be. What would they think?

I know how they’d react looking at my record. Two words: Lost Cause.

It’s not that I don’t try to be a good person, because I do try. It’s a good feeling, when you do something that makes others smile. Especially when you’re sad all the time, like me. It gives you some feeling of purpose to your otherwise empty life.

The only thing is, with me, everything I do comes back and hits me in the face. You ever hear that expression, No good deed goes unpunished? Yeah, well, some ass has probably been doing a whole lotta good deeds and put me as the return address. And thanks to my brain, that is an actual possibility for me.

I think too much.

But yes, I try to be a good person, but sometimes it’s just too hard. Because some people expect too much. And some people use yelling and screaming as their method to demand too much.
Take this scenario for example; I am cleaning my room, listening to music as I work, (GOOD music, FYI, with actual talent involved) when all of a sudden, my mother charges in. And I get to hear her screech about all the things I have not yet done.

Here’s the list of complaints, sans the screechy mother-from-hell voice.

-I have not vacuumed my room; as the vacuum is still being used by my brother to do god knows what.
-I have not picked up a pillow on the floor, which renders her completely unable to walk in this ‘hellhole’.
-My dressing gown is on my box, instead of my already loaded coat hanger.
-There are things under my bed. Things that NEED to go under there so I can walk through my room.
-My desk is too cluttered.
-I read too much. I must stop reading. The less I read, the more time I’ll have to place that pillow on my bed; which is not needed.

And finally….

-I have too much crap in my room. Which is becoming more of a storage space for all the crap my mother buys-often without asking. It is entirely my fault a place cannot be found for said crap, and I am the spawn of Satan for being unable to organise it in a matter that satisfies my mother.

It’s not the complaining that bothers me, it’s the screaming. Every time I have to put up with her yelling, I end up with a headache. Which makes me go to my room. Which makes me black out and fall into Delirium, where there is, you guessed it Imaginary Reader!, more yelling and screaming.

As opposed to Reality though, Delirium has people yelling and screaming about things that matter. What these matters are, I’ll save for a time where I’m feeling even more upset and vulnerable, and I have an uncontrollable urge to spill my secrets. It’s almost funny, how Delirium is the world which makes more sense to me; for all it’s secrets and mysteries behind it, the ones there are far easier to understand than the world where people screech about cleaning and other things that barely matter.

I have gotten off track. My point is that I am a horrible person. I’m working on it, but I’m not getting very far. And I have no idea how people stand me. My friends are wonderful people, and I find myself wondering why they allow me to hang out with them; for all my faults, for every time that I’ve gone all Delusional on them, they still care about me.

And that’s what inspires me to be a better person. If they can stand a psychotic, delusional bitch like me, I can at least try to be the best person I can be.

Though I probably will never remember to put that stupid pillow on my bed.

To sum it up; yes, there are good and bad people in this world. But no one is purely good or bad; people can do bad things with good intentions, just like good people can have selfish motivations for doing something seemingly unselfish.

Also, what even is a good person? Because there are so many ways a person can be flawed, so there’s no way someone can be perfect. But what makes someone a good person? How many flaws are they allowed to have? Answer below, nonexistent reader, in the comments.

Back to my role as the spawn of Satan.
Also, my grandparents will be here soon. Eeeeeek! O_O
Yours truly,

Cat Madigan