You are not my doctorYou are not my cure...
ironic_vertigo
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Name: Karin
Birthday: 6/5/1988
Gender: Female


Interests: Hello. May I have this dance of histeria? Hello. I am your greatest fear, I am welling underneath you with nauseating predictability, and you swirl away to face the fact you can't deal with the unknown. And now we all curtsey and do the dance everyone is doing, laughing with fear, drinking the dizzy that drips off the tap, circle sway tap step twirl. Masks everywhere, masks to hide the grotesque pained look of a cornered animal. Masks to mask that one thing you can never ever escape. Yourself.
Occupation: Student


Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM: ironicvertigo


Member Since: 10/28/2004

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Blogrings (10 of 11)
END LEFT HANDED DISCRIMINATION!
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xX Schizophrenia Xx
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An Open Mind In A Closed World
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I can spell and form coherent sentences!
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The Bipolar Connection
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Religion is the Opiate of the Masses
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 me, myself and the guy in my head 
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Girl, Interrupted
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Sunday, July 05, 2009

GO!

I need to paint something, I'm getting desperate for ideas.... Whoever comes up with the best idea for a painting wins said painting! GO!


Friday, June 19, 2009

I keep stumbling into the fact I don't know what to use my artistic energy on anymore. I want to paint, but what? Easiest thing to do with pent up artistic angst is take narcissistic self portraits, like so:
IMG_3445

And all other writing becomes irrelevant, ignored, or innocuous at best. Oh look! Karin cut her hair. How fab.

What possessed me to drink coffee at this time of night?! Oh yes, we were going to study the lovely Radioactive Materials Handbook, with special, fun, RAD words. Ahahahahaha! I am sooo very witty.

No really. Everyone seems to think I'm hil-arrr-iousss, really, when I just make a fool out of myself. I'm not funny.

On a side note, neither am I talented. I'm some tiny manipulative spider, weaving a trap in front of your face when you blink. If you never blinked, stared me down, my body would slowly unravel and at your feet, a small arachanid would scatter for the depths of shadows.

The best is when you keep your eyes closed, my hand over your face as I push you under the surface of delusions. Struggle not, lovely. Breathe it in.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Won't you forgive me? I won't do it again, I promise. I promise.


Thursday, June 18, 2009

silent shy goddess (she's done!)

IMG_3427-2
speak to me lovely
don't hesitate, voice your heart
whisper your secrets
...


Sunday, June 14, 2009

Nightmares

I am sitting at a table with four small boxes in front of me. My parents point out the latter two, they house my grandparents' remains. The first two are different, unique unto themselves. The first is all digital, buttons and clocks and full of silicon. It is a sleek black box. The second, intricately carved wood with traditional decorative Swedish flairs. I stare at them, and my parents say bluntly this is what they'd like to be put in. My throat starts to close and grief washes over me. I awake.

We found a diamond. It's lovely, small and delicate. He hides it away from the rest of us. He leaves, I find his belongings and finger a razor blade. It dawns on me that he intends to cut it out of the other boy, to whom he had fed the diamond for safekeeping. I know where the diamond is now. I find the boy throwing up in the sinks of the bathroom. Two sinks are already full of vomit, the third he is filling up. I run the water in the one he last finishes and when everything swirls out, the diamond glitters on the drain grate. We quickly take it and leave. Everything becomes blurry now, the other kids are being brainwashed, I try to save them and then...

A giant scoreboard stands before me. A voice asks me when I'm going to tell him the truth. All my secret sins stand as numbers on the scoreboard. I say never. He'll leave me. I find myself in my apartment, in front of the bathroom door. Steam leaks from underneath it. I know someone is inside, I dare not enter. I leave the apartment, it becomes see-through and I see a naked woman monster in my bathtub, curled up in a fetal position. She has three red eyes. She terrifies me so I run off to find myself being chased by various monsters, in a game I ultimately cannot win. I realize that as long as I keep my secrets, I will be stuck with these creatures. As they close in on me I beam myself up into being awake.

I painted (photoshop) the woman in the bathroom. She doesn't look as menacing as she felt in the dream.

monster

Nightmares, for me, are one of the first signs that my psychotic side is taking ahold. Other symptoms lately have been losing control of my hands, thinking in color, and generally feeling weird. I try and avoid this all I can, I try to stay busy but if the monsters are looking for me now, in the crevasses of my brain, they probably will find me. I cannot hide much longer. I'm slipping...


Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Blame game

I am back from the hospital. I guess most of you (really everyone who knows me) never knew I was gone, nor cared to follow up, since my erratic behavior tends to be self-isolating while pretending to be gone partying or studying, I am really only somewhere alone, moping. And while I shouldn't blame you, I can't help but do so.

Why didn't you care? I disappear for days on end, drop from sight, from Facebook, from school, from talking to you, and you never even noticed. Of if you did noticed, why weren't you in the least worried? Did you really think I was fine, when I had been crying for a month?

I feel so wronged because I know I would do this in a heartbeat for you.

Well good riddance and all of that. I made better friends in the nuthouse than I've ever had outside of it.

Wait a minute, I'm not quite done with you. Are you afraid of me? Afraid of the stigma that surrounds the fact that I'm not quite right in the head? Afraid the sadness is contagious if you were to, just for once, sympathize?

Well of course, who wants to be around sad/crazy people anyway. Why can't they just stop moping and feel better. Snap out of it.

Fuck all of you who think that mental illnesses are a) illusions, b) attention-seeking behavior, c) can be cured by Scientology, d) something everyone goes through (and therefore easily gotten over/cured). I'm sick to death of the stigma. I'm sick of lying to people so they don't run away in terror or just rather avoid and talk about me behind my back.

Thank you to those people who have stuck with me and love me for who I am even though I'm a crazy bitch. You know who you are, because I've told you over and over again not to leave me and that I love you like crazy. If you have any doubts about if I love you or not, I probably don't and this post is about you.



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