MelMel's journal

I've become somewhat obsessive about my hands this past week. I keep holding them out in front of me, willing them to tell me their secrets. I know my hands so well. They are so ncredibly important to me. I cannot imagine life without a single finger. How would i play flute or piano. My music would be gone.

My father is a very talented musician. He plays piano (two sometimes :O ) and has his own band. He was interstate onbusiness last tuesday when he slipped getting out of a lift. He put his hand between the doors to try and balance himself. Normally there is a foam or rubber thing there, but tere wasnt. There was sharp metal with indents in it sporadically. He slid all the way to the floor.

He cut his index and middle finger pretty bad. He severed the the tendon in his middle finger and basiclly shreded it in his index finger. He rang me from the hospital saying he had to go in for microsurgery. I was just walking into an exam. I spent the whole exam freting with "what if he never plays piano again?" Floating through my head.

Thankfully he will. His tendon is sewn onto his fingernail...But in6-8 weeks he should recover full use of his hand. No powerful jazz chords for a while, but he'll evetually build up full strength again.

I was so relieved, and now i am so grateful for my hands. I would rather lose both legs than a single finger.

-Mel

Loose ends.

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# 24865

I really wonder about myself sometimes. Why do i do incredibly stupid things that have enormous potential to fuck up my life even further. I still havent worked out the answer, give us a hoy if any of you do.

Well to be more specific at the end of last term i stuffed up. Big time. I was doing tech at school and my little flipblade thingamy i used to cary in my pocket fell out onto the desk in the bio box. I didnt notice until the next day when my theatre teacher (and friend, she was the one i finally opened up to) asked me if i knew anything about it. "Uhh, err, wel, you see, it's...Mine." Im oh so articulate whilst under pressure you see. So she responds with "you know i love you but i cant let you keep this, i have to give it to the principal..." And she gives me the look that says she knows. She knows why i carried it.I couldnt bear the look so i ran out.

I finally had that meeting with the school councillor the next day and she knew about the knife. I said it was for self defence for whn i walked home after dark. She believed it all. We came to an agreement that the knife, my knife, be thrown out and never mentioned again, and left off my reocrd at the school.

I still havent spoken to my teacher about it since though. We're just kind of pretending it never happened. I'd kind of like to explain myself to her. I dont know, ill see if the opportunity arrises. Ive been trying to find an appropriate time to thank her for her help and support but havent had any luck yet. Maybe ill email her or something. Actually, maybe not. I dont like to have things in writing floating around the school. Ahh, ill find a time. I think.

<_<
>_>

-Mel

You don't deserve this.

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# 24286

There are some people who just seem to attract bad shit. They're a ten the bad-shit-ometre.

I feel so sorry for my poor friend clare. For the first few years of knowing her i treated her like shit. Actually, until the start of this year i treated her like shit. I used her as a way of making myself feel superior. But then she grew up so much over the christmas holidays and i began to see what a kind caring, sweet and considerate person she really is. She forgave all the things i had done to her and the way i had treated her.

Clare has three elder brothers. Over the christmas holidays the youngest of the brothers -paul - best friend died in a car crash. Clare was devastated. She knew the boy quite well. And now, last night or this morning i should say her middle brother david was in a car crash. He's 20. He is currently in a coma, bleeding internally in the head.

The doctors are still hopeful of a recovery...But it must be terrible for her. I know that she will be thinking about kyle (the boy who died) and i know that right now she will be looking after her other brothers and parents as much as she can. That's what she's like. She always looks after everyone else before thinking about herself. For example, if you forget lunch one day, she'll force-feed you her food if she has, but she will make sure that you eat.

I wish i'd been a better freind to her.

I wish i could help more now.

She's gone through, and is still going through much more than she deserves. She deserves better.

-Mel

I feel happy.

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# 23867

It's so strange, but i truly feel content at the moment.

It began friday night. Our school formal/social/prom/dinner dance (pick one and go with it, but i'm callin' it a formal :P). I wasnt all that excited before it... There was just too much happening at school and in my life in general. But when i got there, it hit me. The minute i walked in the door, all these reasons why life was worth living flooded into my brain. So here they are, published on the internet to serve as a constant reminder for me to look back on in moments of weakness.

It was also the last day of term. It was one of those evenings where everything was beautiful. I was surrounded by people i love and respect. Of course there were some that i dont love also there, but just for that night, there was mutual respect in everyone in the room. All 200 people.

You know what, i dont even know why i was so happy. Im going to think on it and finish this post later.

it is now wednesday, and you know what? I'm still feeling good.

back to the evening where it began. it was just a truly beautiful evening where i felt loved and respected. i've never felt like that before. and it felt good. good enough to make me want to live again.

i feel strong again. strong enough to handle the everyday shit that has dragged me down for so long. strong enough to step over and continue doing what i want to do.

it's even small things that are improving in my life. like waking up in the morning. i used to dread getting up. i used to dread having to put on that happy act for everyone, but now i wake and say 'I can do this'.

i have plans for the future now. things that i can and will achieve. things that i'm happy doing. for instance, these holidays i'm planning on taking shite-loads of photos of myself as all the various stereotypes i can think of (if anyone has any suggestions please tell me).

i have a plan of how i'm going to do my theatre monologue.

i've been so caught up in simply surviving each moment that until now...i havent really stopped to look ahead. but now i am.

dammit, life can be good. and mine will be. i'm going to make sure of it.

-Mel

This post was edited by MelMel on Jun 30, 2004.

I seem to be posting/whining in thiss journal quit alot at the moment. Hmmm. *Vows never to read them again*. There we go :)

If i asked wat were the thre hardest words to say, i'm guessing alot of people would say "i love you" or something like that... But i have different answer.

"I need help"

these are words i've never said aloud. These are words i never want to say aloud. These are the words i tell myself i dont need.

But today i find myself questioning that. Do i need help?

I had a chat with a teacher whom i admire and respect a great deal. She is just a lovely person and iif i turn out even half as balanced as she is, i'll be doing well.

So i had a chat with her/broke down in her office crying. I still dont really know what to make of it. It's part of the reason why i swallowed those pills. I couldnt bear to be weak. I was so ashamed of myself for allowing myself to be weak in front of someone i respect so much. I thought she would hate me, hate me the way i hate myself.

But it turns out, the first thing she did was phone the school councillor. I was so angry at first, i still am kind of. Im not a charity case to be passed around the school. The teacher was the one who approached me, i didnt want to break down in front of her... I donlike our school councillor, i think she's pretty useless.

And i dont like talking about my problems. Here it's different. I dont have to see your faces, i dont have to see your reactions. Its not what you say, but how.

I think that people who go through life complaining about their problems constantly to their friends are weak and selfish. I've been surrounded by people like that my whole life, and there is no way i want to be like them.

So to cut a long ranting story short(er), the councillor cornered me to make a time feeding some crap about wanting to see me about my community service work and for a general chat, which i knew was a lod of shit. So i went and saw the teacher and asked her (politely of course) who the hell she spoke to me about and why. Thankfully it was ony the councillor, and only to mention that she thought i could use someone to talk to.

So i can still control the situation which is the most important thing. Tomorrow morning i'll see the teacher again and find out what she said word for word as much as possible. Then i'll sort out my lies. I need to complain enough about miniscule things for the councillor to believe it, yet not enough for her to do anything like tell my head of house/principal/parents.

Fuck, i dont have the time or the energy for this. I wish the teacher had asked me first. I guess thats why im still angry.

-Mel

I wrote a poem today. I had to for English... but i havent been able to write poetry, ANY poetry for a good few years now. so this is what i produced today. ok, so it's pretty crappy. but the fact that i was able to write it all is pretty important to me.

You

Your hair, your smile
Your stare, you beguile
You care, not me
I must be free
You’re mine, you’re it
You’re gone, you’re shit
You kill my hope
So I can’t cope
It’s just too much
Your look, your touch
I run, I hide
I can’t abide
The thought that you
Might love me too
I dream, I wake
I scream, I break
You think, you know
I blink, I go
So yes, it’s true
I do love you
It hurts to leave
It makes me grieve
And now I’m lost
I know the cost
Of fear, of pride
My love has died.

ok, so its pretty standard, both in structure and theme, but im still pleased. it still needs alot of work. and its pretty incoherent to anyone other than me... but then again, most poetry is...

-Mel


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