I torture myself,
I look through every picture not wanting to forget any detail of what your face looks like since it’s been months since I’ve seen you in person. I try to remember conversations. I read things I wrote in my journal. Listen to old songs. It all makes things so heavy, but I don’t want to forget.
How torturous anxiety can be. Every little word or silence amplified by 1000x and played repeatedly in my mind until something in me breaks.
That awkward moment when your girlfriend is mad at you because she really thinks you have an affair with Jonny Craig. -________-
Oh wait, wait, wait..
I forgot one of my favorite parts of the night. One of the officers came to put another girl in the holding cell after already being in there for at least six hours. One of the other woman asks the officer if they are going to feed us.
Considering that there were milk cartons and apple cores all over the floor we assumed at some point we were at least going to get that.
The officer looks at here with the most confused look on face an “are you stupid?” kind of look and replies with a simple….
no.
The two other women I spoke to (one was 46 and the other 20) were in there for equally stupid reasons. Seems like the police were really bored that night.
So for anyone wondering here’s the story of how I got arrested…
Saturday night was the big party that ended PRIDE week at UCSB. I haven’t gone out in a while and decided that tonight I’d stop being so anti-social and go enjoy myself. Before the party we went to a friends house to drink. It’d been a while since I drank so much. So yes I was drunk. I knew I was so instead of going to the party I decided to walk back to my dorm alone. I had no problem doing so. I was about on campus already so close to where I live and the strap on my purse broke. This is where I assume the two police officers started watching me. I picked up all my things and shoved them in my bag and continued to walk to my dorm which was only a few staircases away from me at this point.
That’s when the two police officers stopped me, they talked to me for a while. I can’t remember about what. Except them asking me what my major was and small talk like that.
They asked if I had a friend I could call to walk me the rest of the way home. But I lived RIGHT THERE. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t walk there myself or why they couldn’t walk me there since they were “so concerned for my safety”. If they really wanted to see that I get home safe they could literally watch me walk there from where we standing.
Since at the moment I couldn’t think of anyone to call. Again for “my safety” they hauled me off to the county jail. Here is what pisses me off the most.
Instead of letting me walk back to my room where I had a bed, water, snacks, my medication, and everything I needed they put me in a cell with a metal bench a toilet and a sink. Trash all over the floor. And four other women.
I told them I am taking medication for depression and anxiety and that I need to take it every night. That didn’t matter to them, but “my safety” was important to them. Not once did they check on me to see if I was okay. They didn’t even give me a breathalyzer test. What if I had alcohol poisoning? If they were so concerned they would at least done that. I spent from midnight until 9 am in that cell. Sitting on the floor because the three other women were all laying on the metal bench.
Second thing that pisses me off.
When I was finally released and given my things back this is what I got.
- One of the balls to my septum ring was missing
- One of the straps to my corset top was missing.
- There was sticky stuff all over my locket.
- I had an unopened pack of Blacks that was now opened and one was missing.
I don’t actually live in this area, my friends don’t have cars. I had a dying cell phone. I took a taxi back to campus and slept the entire day.
Oh yeah and I was never read my miranda rights.
I’ve never been fond of police but these were just power tripping sheriffs.
I got arrested last night and just got out of jail this morning.
Fuckingshit.
I explain
to my psychologist and psychiatrist that I only have to moods.
I am either
- sad
- okay
That’s it.
Walk out of my life, go on ahead. I may be fucked up right now, but when I’m better don’t decide you want to stroll back in because I won’t let you back.
I’ll get better you’ll see.
And another prescription for new pills.
That makes 4.
This is getting bad for weeks I haven’t been eating much. Last week I couldn’t eat anything without getting nauseous. This week I can’t eat without throwing up.
I have nothing in me to vomit, it just burns.
I’m really starting to feel like my days are numbered.
I can’t hold it together anymore. Every day it gets harder and harder to keep this up and every day I grow more tired of doing so.
I feel like soon I’ll just give in. It feels so heavy.
Curiosity killed the cat, I’m sure I’m down 8 lives.
Those things you look for and wish you didn’t find.
How many different ways can you tell someone to stay?
I’ve said it over and over again. Don’t go. Please stay. But nothing seems to work.
Best friend, don’t go.
Someone make my night I beg,
this is shit and I hurt myself again.
I don’t want to exist.
I want my memory and every single little thing that was mine to disappear. I want everyone to forget my name and face.
I want to be nothing.
