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Love, the Girl With Broken Thoughts.


‘We are art.’

25 June 2021

I know i know... most people start their diary’s first entry at the beginning of the year or at least on the day they got it , which in most cases are their birthday. But please agree with me that i see that is a little bit cliché in my opinion. The only real reason i even started writing down my thoughts and feelings is because i find it impossible to put my emotions into words. All the emotions I experience make perfect sense in my head but every time i try to express them a series of incoherent words escape my mouth. Which is embarrassing, diary. Me expressing my feelings is just about as accurate as trying to plug in your phone charger in the absolute darkness of night.

It just doesn’t work.

At all.

Anyway I’m not planning on telling you, diary, about my struggles of expressing my feelings for the rest of the year.

Yesterday i felt empty and overwhelmed at the same time. My mind felt so overwhelmed that i went into this void of absolute nothingness. The void i found myself trapped in was so empty it almost made my ears hurt. The feeling was too confusing to handle. Even my mind could not decipher what i was experiencing. I started crying for no reason at all. I just wanted to escape that empty space i was caged in. So what did i do?

I jumped into an ice cold pool in the middle of winter. It definitely pulled me out of my void alright. It was so cold it hurt. My skin felt a stinging, prickling sensation the moment i jumped in. I remained under the water for a while. The peacefulness I found in the presence of the ice cold water was amazing. Dead silence. Just the faint noises of bubbles escaping my nose. Eventually I couldn’t handle the cold anymore and there was no more breath in my lungs , so i had to return to the world i find myself in.

I wish i was a mermaid, diary. No wonder they’re all so flawless. Being surrounded by that beautiful silence their whole lives must obviously have an effect on their appearance. Not to mention their minds.

Right now i am learning, well actually writing to you, diary. Better known as my book of thoughts. Education is irrelevant in my opinion. We as children have the whole world at our feet, yet we are forced to spend the first quarter of our lives in a place not many of us ever recover from.


I made up my own little words for school, ‘the truamatizer’ ‘the ruiner’ or my personal favourite ‘the children killer’. School robs our innocence and our youth. It changes the way we see things, not in a good way. School creates this little box, this idea of how we as children should be in their opinion. Poor young souls go to horrible lengths to make sure they qualify to fit in this little box.

Ah, there is that word i hate...

Fit in. Fit in. Fit in. Fit in. Fit in. Fit in.

I despise that word. I hate it. I wish it were a person so i could rip it to shreds. We ruin ourselves just to fit into that ridiculous box. Diary, i confess in confidence that i am a victim of trying to qualify for a place in the box... A lot of times i refused to eat, i made my parents poor to have the newest clothes, phones, perfume etc. But i learnt one thing about this cruel little box we all find so intriguing.

It. Never. Stops.

Once you do something that you finally think will make that box open up for you, another thing pops up. Another qualification you need to fit in. Trying to fit in is a bottomless pit of greed, jealousy and self hate.

Some people just are not meant to live their lives inside a box.

People should make peace with that.

Because i did.

26 June 2021

Diary, i was woken today by a small ray of sunlight dancing along my curtains.

One ray of sunlight.

Just one.

And for some strange reason it felt familiar. I started wondering that what if God assigns each mortal he creates a single ray of sunlight. It’s job is to follow us wherever we go. When we wake up, while we are outside, on days the sun plays hide and seek your ray of sunlight is actually playing with you. What if every time i get irritated by the sun in my eyes , my special little string of sunlight is just trying to tell me its still there. The ray of sunlight represents me. Every ray represents a person. A life. Maybe when i die one day it’ll transform into a star. Oh diary, just imagine if every single star in the universe represents a person. And the stars that burn out are forgotten lives. I mean, i really won’t be able to remember my grand fathers fathers fathers father. So eventually he will burn out and live on in another spiritual world called heaven. I spent most of the day thinking about this...

Diary, can i ask you a question, i am aware of the fact that i will not get any response but i will picture your reply.

Why do we read books?

I am an absolute book worm in general but i still don’t know why i waste so much time of my life reading words on it to escape? To be someone I’m not?

I thought about my vague question for hours now. I have an unclear yet well founded answer. Feelings and life in books are so simple. I envy the way the main characters story always end with a happy ending. I want the sureness in my life i have when i read someone else's fictional life always knowing everything will turn out alright. I can be someone i am not in books. Just for once i can live in the shoes of someone that are not my own. Aren't books unmistakably the best gift given to humans. My mother told me to stop reading fantasy novels, she said some of the books has ‘bad elements of demonic energy’ or that i should feed my soul ‘with holy things’. Diary i have to much respect for you to start swearing my mother up and down but the only reply my mind could gather was: what is the point of escaping reality if the place i escape too, is realistic. Now that my question is settled...

I want to get tattoos one day. Not a lot but enough to irritate my mother. Kidding diary, i am not that brutish. But i am definitely playing with the idea of marking my body with ink. Every drop of ink will hold a memory, a dream, a thought. My tattoos will become a part of me, a part of my mind. Every tattoo will be linked to something of significance. When i see my tattoos i hope i will constantly be reminded by something important enough, that i inked it into my own skin.

Diary i have absolutely no idea how to end off the days’ emotions . Perhaps i should say:


The girl with broken thoughts.

28 June 2021

Ok ok ok, sorry diary it has been three days. I have just been too caught up in my exams. To terrified of the label society would mark me with if i happen to get a bad mark. I just keep telling myself that what I accomplish in school is irrelevant and will mean nothing in my future. Well I certainly do hope so.

After the test i was forced to endure, i am almost too certain that the label society would grant me with, is not going to be something my mother would be proud off, probably ‘ the girl that cannot even pass a simple high school exam, her fate is most likely becoming a school bus driver. She’ll be stuck working at the place she could never get out of.’

Sorry if i am being so specific, diary. Exams just emotionally drain me in so many ways. School creates so much stress for the youth, over petty little things like exams. If anyone in this cursed world happens to be educated on the subject why we have to write exams, do enlighten me. So much of my brain space, that is entirely limited, goes into information about the past and how to find ‘x’. Where in my life will i have to find ‘x’. Buying groceries? Paying bills?

And why do we have to waste hours learning about the barbaric past. Its the adults who continue to tell us to ‘focus on the future not the past’, yet its all they talk about. The reason the world is as crazy as it is today, is due to the fact that no one can move on from the past. And we, the youth, suffer because of mistakes generations before us made decades ago. How can this be called fair. Diary excuse me for attacking you with politics. This must bore you...

29 June 2021

A feeling I really enjoy is writing a test and knowing the answers. A feeling I don’t experience very often. Sadly in order to be more familiar with that feeling, I actually have to learn. To put my behind in a chair and concentrate. Thus i find that beyond the bounds of my possibilities. Sorry diary, i am wasting your time. I am only stalling to do anything but homework.

I was diagnosed when i was young with some complicated syndrome that makes my skin very sensitive to touch. Thus my skins’ ability to feel is over sensitive. My mother always massaged my whole body with a brush that consisted of these big plastic spikes. Apparently it claimed to make my skin less sensitive. As a child i would walk naked around the house refusing to wear clothes, because they make me itch. I ran away when people tried to hug me.

Up until today the majority of times a human hugs me, i still go rigid. The feeling i experience can once again not be put into words. It doesn’t hurt at all, the feeling isn’t even overwhelming. It just feels so uncomfortable and foreign when another person wraps their arms around me. It is as if at that exact moment in time i can feel exactly what they are feeling.

Please diary, don’t think of me as a supernatural being or someone utterly delusional. The feeling i experience before they touch me changes every time once they touch me and goes back to the way it was when they stop.

My body just doesn’t know how to react to the sudden change of my mood. My body doesn’t know how to react when it is suddenly feeling someone else’s emotions for a split second. Maybe the gift God granted me with ,is being hypersensitive to other peoples emotions not their touch. Perhaps I don’t even have a strange syndrome making me sensitive to touch. Possibly every time a person hugs me ,in some mystical way our souls hug each other too. And i just feel their soul entering my spiritual body for a moment.

To conclusion diary, i am not only definitely delusional but i am also a person cruel enough to be frightened of hugs, because my spirit loves inviting other peoples spirits for tea inside my body.

30 June 2021

Diary, help me choose between books and clothes. My mother offered to buy me clothes but i rather want books with that money. Does that make me strange? Clothes don’t last forever but books will. Clothes do not learn me anything, books make up who i am as a person. Clothes are just wrapping paper to cover the body i am not allowed to show the world. Adam and Eve walked around naked. Why on earth can’t we?

Diary the following statement may sound weird, but being naked makes me feel whole in some peculiar way. Every time i wear clothes it feels as if i am trapping my body in material because in the world i live in, nudity is sexual. There is nothing sexual about nudity, the only real problem diary, is that men cannot keep it in their pants.

I daydreamed like never before today. I was busy writing history when i began daydreaming. I wonder if daydreaming is even the correct word to call that state of mind I entered. It was as if i lived what i was thinking. I was riding a horse in a field wrapped in green grass. The horse was a caramel colour with specks of white. Everything felt so surreal. It was almost as if i was really riding a horse. Me and the horse were cantering. We moved towards a sunset that stretched out before us. An eternity away. I could feel my hair dancing in the wind behind my back and for a split second i felt happy. Really really happy. That was my fairy tale. My happy ending.

Or not.

The bell that rang snapped me out of my strange trance and I realised that i did not only answer one question on my test but also what I thought was truly my fairy tale, was only a dream.

7 July 2021

Theres a part of the day where the morning and the night looks precisely the same. Just before it gets dark and just before it gets light. Diary it reminded me that the line between good and bad is so fragile we sometimes don’t even notice we choose to bring the night instead of the morning. I am afraid i choose to become the night to often.

18 July

Diary it has been terribly long. And i am not sorry. I needed time to think about a lot of things. Focusing on this empty void that is slowly dissolving my soul.

I have come to a heartbreaking conclusion diary.

I am so very desperate i did not even notice it.

I am sharing my deepest thoughts with a person i know is sharing them with other people. The worst part about it is that i do not even care anymore. I am beyond desperate to trust someone, anyone. Every single time i tell her something i should not tell her, my conscious already knows i will be hearing the same secret escape someone else's mouth. It still burns but my desperation allows me to look her in the eyes and smile politely until i tell her something private yet again. You see diary it is just like a simple cat and mouse game, except the mouse is already dead but the cat keeps dragging her limp lifeless body through traps and manipulation, although the cat knows the mouse has given up. The cat must obviously be mistaken with this anonymous girl i am sharing my unknown pieces with. Diary you are wrong, the cat is my desperation. My desperation for trust. I keep falling in desperations trap that maybe just maybe she won’t tell or that i might just feel a slight relief from telling her something i have bottled up for too long. The feeling afterwards is only a simulation of relief, if anything it makes me feel absolutely nothing. I feel even more empty afterwards. This incredible anguish my mind has tortured me with has turned into its very synonym: desperation.

20 July

Growing up always seemed a mile away. It seemed like something i will just never reach. My youth was so naive to believe that. Growing up is an oblivious thing. It happens without notice. Why do i know that?

Yesterday was my birthday.

I remember always counting off the days until my birthday as a child or barely even getting any sleep the night before my big day. Now the thought of my birthday does not even excite me. It suddenly lost all of its importance. Just another year on earth added. Another year on a astroid. Another year of floating in an empty pit of nothing.

Diary, i am mad. I am sad. I am ‘ununderstandable’.By my mother. The box already swallowed my dear mother whole. Her mind only thinks in one way. It always calculates all the realistic risks before doing anything. Whereas my mind works in various exiting methods. My mind does not know in the word ‘risk’ nor does it want to learn it. It has no need to calculate, it is programmed to take risks and do things many people would consider insane.

I love that about my mind. My mother does not. She never will.

Routine upsets me diary. I feel like a hamster in a wheel when i am in routine. It tires me and consumes al my energy. I do not want to go to university. I do not want to have children. I do not want to have a husband, because I don’t want to belong to anyone. I want to live. With or without money. I am craving for adventure. I gravitate towards the unknown. The unknown makes up a big part of who i am today. Full of surprises and something one cannot really explain.

You see me and the unknown are very much alike. We do not make sense and no one knows, including us, what we are made up of and exactly how we function.

I sympathise for my mother. Growing up a child like me must be hard. Not only am I stubborn but i for some unexplained reason always choose to go against her. She must deal will all my ups and my very sudden lows. She must deal with all my waterworks which i almost never have a clear reason for. My mother fancies the concept of a safe, predictable life and now she has a child who hates that so much.

Diary if my mother cannot accept the way God sculpted me, that is her problem not mine.

21 July

Anything euphoric immediately catches my attention, something that has the power to send my mind into a daydream filled with a feeling stronger than peace but weaker than joy. To me usually consists of that ability. To have the talent to create a piece of art that has the potential to send any being into that euphoric state is more than talent, it is a blessing.

An artist like Labrinth possesses that blessing. Diary i wish i could force the whole world to permanently listen to his melodies. Everyone should be able to experience his music. When i want to feel disconnected from reality i listen to his music. Reading often sends me into my own euphoric trance. A book that makes one forget they are reading, is a good book. When one thinks they are the main character, it is a good book.

Stars also give me an euphoric feeling. No.That is an understatement to what stars do to me. The galaxy wrapped around this astroid means more to me than you,diary, might realise. Every single time i gaze up at the heavens at the hours of darkness, the corners of my eyes well up with hot tears and sometimes when the stars shine a little to perfect i cry. It is as if my soul has an inner connection with these balls of gas. Stars instantaneously make me emotional.

I do not cry out sudden misery caused by the stars. I cry because of the sudden intense beauty i am overwhelmed with each time i so much as glance at the stars staring down at me.

I always wonder what stars look like from space. From earth they not in the same air as us. They burn in another part of the world. One can only dream what it must be like living in the same air as these peculiar objects. Literally being in the very space they are floating in. Must be an experience words just cannot express.

Diary please accompany me one day when me and the stars dance together barefoot on a summer night.

26 July

Diary i wish that i could let someone, just for a second, cast a brief look into my mind. Only to let them think twice before they tell me something. One never knows what someone is going through. Some people hide away their pain to comfort others. I am ‘some people’ diary.

What has society become?

Why is the only thing we thrive towards a perfect body?

Diary why is that so important to me!?

Why is the only thing i ever think about what others will think about me. They do not care! People are to busy thinking about themselves to actually give a damn about me, but my sick mind manipulates me to believe that this is all they care about. Mankind has created a ideal picture of what ‘attractive’ should look like.

Mankind is killing our minds.

Mankind is hurting me.

Mankind has created a virus

It is slowly infecting all of us. We do not even notice it anymore. This virus makes us believe that if we do not meet society's beauty standards, we are worth nothing. There is no particular definition of beauty. Everyone experiences beauty differently. This is exactly why i am so very fond of art. Art has no meaning of prettiness. Art is a space where every single word has millions of meanings, thousands of ways to express and countless ways to experience or understand.

Art defies society.

One could draw something or someone absolutely hideous but still sell the piece for millions. Why cannot we function the way art does. The most famous painting in the world is the Mona Lisa. Diary let us be honest, she is not even that alluring, but still art rebels against community and somehow makes this normal woman seem bewildering. She is priceless, because art said so.

Every piece of art is beautiful in its own way. We are art. God is an artist and he carefully painted us on his canvas. Thus we are special and flawless in our own way. How dare we criticise an artist’s creation. How dare I.

Diary this must seem so over emotional, i did write this in tears after all.


The girl with broken thoughts.

1 August

Reality punched me in the face diary. My clothes are drenched in blood, there is blood under my fingernails too. I never knew reality can hurt one that much. Why am i saying this?

My social media feed was filled with ‘couple goals’ videos. The way the pupils looked at each other almost looked unreal. I thought they might be under the influence of something drug-related.

I was wrong.

They were just deeply in love. I repeatably think about having a partner that will also make my eyes look dilated, but the horrid truth is i would never. At that moment i realised i could never ever make someone feel like that. In one of the videos the girl and boy were cuddling and whispering sweet nothings into each others ears.

First of all diary, like I mentioned earlier, i am utterly awful with words and even worse at sharing feelings. I do not know how to show affection to someone. In my life i have not once hugged my sister or even told her that i care about her. I do not know how. My mother has sent me to so many therapists, because she thinks there is something wrong with me for living without showing any fondness to anyone. Second of all diary, like i also mentioned before, i hate being touched by someone or being hugged. It overwhelms me and makes me cry. Thus i am also impotent to touching other people. How do i comfort the boy like the girl did?

I cried myself to sleep last might when I realised this. I am an empath that constantly listens to people that open up to me , but diary, i am destined to end up alone.

Think of me as a long lost princess cursed to constantly listen to other peoples problems but forbidden to share any of her own. A princess thats biggest desire is love but she cannot show any. A princess bound to end up alone.

The only company she will ever have is her cruel lonely thoughts.

5 September

It has been more than a month since i have shared anything to you diary. I wish i can say that i changed even the slightest bit in the past month, but i have not. Though i have done one thing the past month: observing the world around me. Simply watching life that continues on and on like a play in a theatre. I have come to one simple conclusion diary.

Money is not loyal.

Money can be compared to a genie in a lamp. It can give one whatever one wants but always comes with some unknown price. Anything money gives one is only temporary.

Wealth blinds a mans eyes and eventually becomes the only thing he gives attention to. Once its to late he realises that he put money over his own family. He then realises that money cannot buy him everything. He falls into a deep depression until he eventually, out of embarrassment, slits his own throat.

Money is a cruel creature lurking in the dark waiting to posses any human with the tiniest bit of desperation. Money feeds on our souls and leaves us as empty pieces of skin and bone. I am very happy that money is not something my family has, otherwise i will not be the only empty one living in our house.

Some people are just born with a deep emptiness inside of them. They are constantly aware of the illusion of an vacantness slowly devouring them spiritually. They try to fill that hole with the wrong things, thinking ‘ this- this will fill that void’.

It never does.

People search a lifetime trying to find something worthy of stuffing that hole. Most eventually die trying.

I am one of them.

It is indescribable.

It interferes with everything, diary. One moment i would be fully peaceful, then suddenly i feel this knot on my stomach. The feeling of peacefulness disappears in the blink of an eye. It is as if the void swallowed my peacefulness whole. An imposter is living inside of me, some would call it satan. I do not think so.

I think i am the imposter.

I think it is simply my own mind torturing me. Making me believe that happiness is nothing but a delusion. Diary how do i get it out? I am filled with holes dripping of blood, only from trying to rip this thief out of me. It steals my own happiness. It feeds on everything i enjoy.

Nothing lasts diary. Soon the holes covering my figure, will cause me to bleed out.

7 September

Have you ever worked so hard for something, but someone who did not deserve it obtained what you deserved. The feeling hurts so so so bad diary. I deserved what someone else got. I worked hard. Not them. I was supposed to be good enough. It was my victory diary. Mine. Not theirs. But i am forced to walk up to them and congratulate them for their undeserved success.

Diary i am furious. I want to tear the thief of my triumph to pieces.

Why… why am i always the one in pain when everyone else celebrates.

12 September

We all live in our own little world.

20 September

I often worry that i am too ambitious. That the things i thrive towards are too crazy. Too dangerous.

But who cares?

Pain makes me feel powerful diary. Running until blood starts bubbling up in my throat, gives me a sense of freedom. Riding a horse so fast until I’m sure i will die if i fall off, makes me unnaturally content. Taking a shower so cold my lips starts turning blue, instantly puts a smile on my face.

Its these little crazy acts that makes me want to live. Whats the point of life when one does not live it recklessly.

Just picture how much i hate school.

Routine. It makes me depressed. Doing the same thing over and over again. School has no place for adventurous people like me. School learns us that everything i want to do one day is wrong. School convinced me that i am demented.

I most probably am diary.

Makes me excited.

25 September

I need a person willing to do ambitious risky things with me. Myself and my family went on a road trip, nothing eye opening really but as we drove i saw a field painted by tremendously green grass. The waist high grass shivered in the wind. I felt a longing feeling when we drove past the beautiful scenery. My parents did not give a lot of attention to the field.

I did.

The field felt alive. It was captivating and almost eerie. Every bone in my body was screaming to jump out of the car and run wildly through the green. I so desperately wanted to feel the grass lightly sting my fingertips. I wanted to hear the crunch of the grass as i walked barefoot on them. Why could i not just lie in the grass staring up at the grey sky. I begged my mother to pull over the car just so that we could run into the field and simply taste adventure. She looked at me as if i was crazy. I had to sit in agony while the very medicine my body needed was right next to me. It is always the things closest to one that one cannot reach.

30 December

Who would have thought. 1 day until the year is over and 6 months of writing to you, diary. Although you are just a concept i created because i am to afraid to admit my thoughts to people, i still appreciate you, diary. If you were to be a human i would ironically embrace you diary. I do believe in God but you were my way to get closer to him.

Listening to my dark, eerie and cruel thoughts must surely have troubled you.

Because it troubled me.

I am in all honesty surprised that i am still alive by this time of the year. I did not think i would be able to make it to here, but i did.

Even though one would assume i had a spiritual change of some sort at this point, i did not. I still feel as broken as the first time i wrote to you, diary, though throughout these six months I learned myself how to pick up the pieces and recognise them. Gluing them back together is a skill i have yet to master but this is a start. Sadly good pieces broke off too over time and one does not recognise them, one has to search for them which is going to be challenging.

I doubt i will ever write again to you diary. This was an emotional experiment that i got carried away with, in the best way possible.

I always hated goodbyes.

Lets just say,


The girl with broken thoughts.

© 2021 Cathy Smiths

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