Feel Myself Sink

“December 28

Today was way too fucked up. I can’t even believe the intensity of emotions that evolved tonight. 

All day, I felt kinda anxious so I was feeling shitty at my family’s Christmas party. I did not want to talk to anyone. So my brother and I left early and I ended up going to Denny’s party with Anne.

There weren’t that many people there, but David was there. He made me feel amazingly better. He was so sweet and beautiful, I wanted to stay with him forever. So then I started to get really uncomfortable because he left and was talking to other people, another girl. I wasn’t jealous, I was just really anxious to be sitting there and not really having anyone to talk to and that makes things worse for me in my head.

I guess he noticed because he came over and said sorry cause and asked me if I was mad. I told him I was upset, but not with him or what he was doing, just in general. So then he accused me of playing games with him. I told him I wasn’t that I was just feeling like shit but he still got all mad and started talking about shooting up and stuff.

I just lost it. I couldn’t handle anything he was saying to me and I just started crying with Lisa. Then it just got worse. David accused me of screwing things up and blaming my crying on playing games and trying to mess with his head. I swear I wasn’t! So that just made me feel shittier, so I just left. 

Lisa tried to explain things to him, what I’ve been going through but he wouldn’t listen, he thought I was crying on purpose to make him feel like shit. So when I left he got so mad. Me and Anne went outside and started walking towards the car and he came out after us and told me to wait and said we should talk this out.

So Anne went in the car while I went to go talk to him. He was just like “I don’t know what to do.” He kept saying that he was thinking all fucked up and he just hugged me. He said he hoped it was the right thing to do. It was. He started crying and saying I’m sorry and I’m like no! I started crying and saying sorry and that I hated feeling this way and I kept telling him not to think I was crazy. I tried to push him away because he was hugging me too hard and he said “don’t push me away, I never want you to go away.”

I said that I wouldn’t but I still pushed him off me and then hugged him more comfortably. We stayed that way for a long time. I felt so good in his arms. I actually started to relax. I could feel myself sink into his body with all my heart and I knew everything with him would be okay, as long as he was there for me. So I said to him “I need you David” at first he didn’t say anything but then he said that was the most perfect thing I could have said to him, it’s all he ever needs to here me say. He said, “I need you too Katie, I’ll need you for a very long time.”

I was so happy but I was still crying. I think maybe he was too. But I asked him if he really wanted to put up with me cause this really happens a lot. And he said, yeah, I think it will be fun. That made me laugh and I finally stopped crying. He told me that there was no one above me and that I didn’t even know anything about what he meant. I was like, what are you talking about? He’s like, “yeah you’re just thinking, oh this guy likes me and that’s cool, but it’s much more than me just liking you.” I said that I hoped it was and he’s like ” I know it is.”

So we kissed before he went back into the house but he asked if I was okay one more time. I told him yes, but that we should talk more again tomorrow when he was sober, and I would try to explain everything that’s going on. He said he’ll call me as soon as he gets up and now I’m nervous again. I’m scared because when I explain my anxiety disorder he will probably think I’m too insane to even stay with. I like him so much, I don’t want to lose him over it, you know? And we’re not even really going out yet, not officially. Although he did say that this New Years will be his first with a girlfriend. So that’s cool.

God, I hope I didn’t fuck everything up tonight. David thinks he did but he’s so wrong. Everything was my fault.”

I remember this night vaguely. This post helps me to picture it in my mind and I think the part I remember the most is the hugging in the parking lot. I think this was a turning point in our relationship because I was completely vulnerable and desperately wanting to be normal. Normal as in healthy. Healthy as in not constantly feeling like I was about to jump out of a plane. That was my anxiety level at 18 years old. Like I was constantly teetering, trying not to fall from what felt like great heights.

And here was this guy, being OK with that. So I felt like I could be okay with what he was into. It didn’t matter. I was messed up, he was messed up, we were messed up together. What could possibly go wrong?





There’s something scary
About being alone
Not for the time being
But for the long haul

Once it is lost
Its absence consumes
It’s needed like blood in our veins

People have killed over it
Others have died for it
I’m still trying to let it go

But it’s scary here
Being alone
By myself
… with me
… and I

without you


Dusk was inevitable. Jax sat in his cellar waiting for this specific dusk’s approach. The sun’s glow still lingered over the horizon, but with each passing moment it’s pink hue faded to grey. The night was hungry, yet so was he. But he knew better than to nourish his strength before the Turn.

The dark continued to consume every bit of light it touched. It’s guide began to rise in the east. Slowly but surely, its full rounded form inched closer and closer to its peak.

It wouldn’t be long now. As soon as the moon’s reflected light hit the ground, the Turn would begin. Jax couldn’t see the sky from his cage, but he could feel changes begin from somewhere deep inside himself. He wanted to flee. He wanted to kick down his cage doors and run wild. He was frantic. It had always been hard controlling his emotions when the Turn began; so much pain, so much pressure.

Jax built an iron prison inside the cellar of his home after waking in a field one morning last year surrounded by half eaten flesh. A young girl’s lifeless eye stared at him while the rest of her face had sunken into her skull and her brains spilled out onto the wet grass. Her limbs were chewed and mangled. He could still taste the blood in his memory.

Jax recognized her. He had seen her in town at the laundry mat. Sometimes she had a young boy playing at her heels. He remembered wondering if the boy was somewhere waiting for her.

He buried her body deep in the woods. It took him all day.

In human form, Jax wasn’t very strong. He grew up always finishing last. His long arms and long skinny legs weren’t good for much around his town. He’d never been into sports, nor had he been popular at school, but he loved fishing and still cherished the time he spent out on his boat luring for bass.

It had been a year now since the Turn took him. Since then his human frame had grown a bit stockier and his stamina had improved. But after each full moon his human body felt beaten, torn and ravaged when he woke.

He lost his job at the Meat Market because of all the time it took him to recuperate from his other canine self. He was lucky enough to have a family home, so he worked odd jobs to keep the lights on. He lived off fish and what he could grow in his garden. The lake near his home had fresh enough water. He lived a solitary life. He’d searched madly on-line at the local library for anyone, anywhere to turn to. Someone who could help with his transitions. But he was alone.

He’d gotten used to that feeling. It had sunk in pretty deep when he found out his mother and sister had died in a train crash eight years earlier. They were in his car when the train hit them. His mother had been on her way home with Shelby and they must have missed the flashing lights, must have had their music up too loud, maybe they were singing along to the songs. He could never be sure. He missed them everyday.

He’d since lived alone at his mother’s house. After the authorities failed at finding his father, he had his step-Aunt stay with him, on and off. Enough to keep the law turning the other cheek. The whole town knew him, kept an eye on him, took pity on him.

Now, most people thought his past had finally caught up to him. Going through jobs, losing touch with friends, not going into town half as often. Some days he wished he was only depressed. But he couldn’t fight his fear. He was scared people might notice these changes in him, however small. Like his eyes. They used to be dark brown and now they were Hazel. And his body. It had begun to grow thicker hair. He shaved everyday and each morning he would wake up and look the same as the day before. If he didn’t shave at all he would have a full thick beard in just a few days. The hair on his head at least he could keep tied back, but the hair on his arms and back he preferred to keep hidden.

He thought of breaking down the cage doors again and starting life somewhere new. But each time the fear overwhelmed him. The brains on the grass. He knew he had to gain control of the beast within him.

Then it began. Jax let out a scream and dropped to his hands and knees as it took over. There was no escaping it. He felt it first in his jaw and then his nails. His bones elongating, morphing. His flesh began to split in various places on his body; down the centre of his back, his skull, at his knees and elbows. He grabbed a towel in agony and jammed it in his mouth, muffling his next set of howls. He would lose himself soon.

Not once had he remembered the full events from his time as a werewolf. Only flashes of moments. Never while he was caged, only memories running freely in the woods chasing prey. Though he knew the hunt excited him, thrilled him in ways he had never felt before. That only terrified him even more.

Once he was fully shifted and the Turn complete, his fear turned to exhilaration.

He was wolf.

He was hunter.

He flung himself at the door of the cage so violently, he knocked himself back against the opposite wall. He got up and shook himself off. His fur was jet black, his eyes as green as emeralds. He focused on his target and lunged again with a snarl. His back crashed into the wall behind him just like before, only this time the wall itself began to crumble.

Jax turned around and began his attack on the wall. First repeated body lunges and then he resorted to clawing and tearing through the concrete, until finally he began to see the light of the full moon peaking in from the next room. The light only fuelled his rage. He backed himself up as far as he could from the wall and took one last viscous lunge.

As the wall collapsed behind him the werewolf took off and crashed through the first window he could find towards freedom.

Neurotic Voices

I need to know, if
when you hear my voice
all you can think about are ways
to have me thrown away
Or, when you hear my voice,
do you think about ropes or chains
or something long and easy to handle
to wrap me around in and
pull me closer to you

When I hear your voice
I think about nothing, except
how I can get your voice and my voice
together alone
to talk over what makes us say the things we say
Then maybe our minds
won’t have to worry so much
about what we mean
behind our words
under our voices
inside our heads

Then maybe I could concentrate
On something more important than your voice
Like if you thought my voice was that important too
But if we had already talked
I would know
Unless you lied to me

Sadie’s Summer

August 3, 1993

Dear Diary,

My name’s Sadie, I’m 16 and I’m so over this summer. I don’t know how much longer I can come up with ways to avoid my friends. I haven’t been in the mood to hang out or party for weeks now. I’ve been feeling kind of down lately and I’m really not sure why.

No, that’s a lie. Sorry, I’m not sure why I lie, but I do it a lot. Even to my own diary, so get used to it. I guess I just don’t like being judged. Maybe I like looking good in other people’s eyes, even if I want them to think I don’t give a fuck. Though I usually do; give a fuck, that is.

So, I don’t know. I think I needed to take a break from everything, from all the bullshit that comes with friendships. Sure, I have girlfriends, platonic girlfriends, but I’m definitely into guys.

Still, my girlfriends are great. I’m not worried about them. I’m talking about the people who I thought were new friends until they stabbed me in the back. You know the ones; girls who get all up in your shit, and then when you’d never expect it, they push you in front of a bus, or you know, fuck your boyfriend.

I’m so glad I’m still a virgin and didn’t let that worthless asshole anywhere near me. What a loser. They’re both losers. Nameless fuck-heads who I will never think of again… who are probably out partying somewhere in some grungy basement while I write this. Well, fuck them.

I’ve hardly gone out at all this summer and this all went down back in the middle of June, just as we were gearing up for break. Then I spent two horrid weeks avoiding eye contact with practically the entire goddamn school because almost everyone saw what happened, and by the next day everyone knew. Now I’ve been holed up here in my room avoiding sunlight for weeks. I should be growing fangs.

Nah, it’s not that bad. I just like feeling sorry for myself. I go out. I even let the sun touch my face sometimes, but I’ve been sticking with Parker and Min. At least they will forever have my back. At least they give a shit that I’m hurting and are giving me this time to process such a huge betrayal. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to talk them out of doing a drive by to egg the backstabber or asshole’s house, but I don’t even want to see them. I definitely don’t want to run into them sucking face at a party. Ugh. That thought alone makes me want to puke.

Maybe when school starts again everything will go back to normal. Maybe I’ll get over it by then and everyone will have forgotten. Or maybe I’m just going to have to deal with it. Maybe I’ll just dye my hair blue again, or shave it off Sinead style. See, mother fuckers, you have no power over me!

I’m not much of a people person, if you haven’t already guessed. I may write big, but in real life I tend to avoid conflict and awkward social situations at all costs. I like to express my feelings through other means; like how I dress, or do my make-up or in the form of really bad poetry. Right now I’m into plaid, doc martens and free verse. I also have dark hair but I bleach it, then dye it various colours. Right now it’s a cross between a faded purple and grayish colour. The over the counter dye doesn’t stay in for very long, but my mom won’t give me the money to go to a salon. She says the money she makes isn’t to support acts of rebellion. Like, really? Rebellion? She doesn’t even know how lucky she is to have a daughter like me. I’m a fucking angel compared to some of the girls at my school. Like backstabber, for instance. There is a perfect example of who not to be. Plus, I happen to think my hair looks pretty fucking cool if you ask me. What does it say about me? I don’t know. What do you think?

Man, sometimes I wish I could disappear forever, like relocate into a different culture. I might have more of a chance at finding some sort of happiness. Maybe I could find a cool guy, you know, a sweet guy who would never think of messing around behind my back. All the guys at my school seem so lame now, or they are friends with asshole.

It’s times like these that get me thinking about Dylan, my first real boyfriend. We went out for a few months a couple years ago, back in grade nine. He was so adorable. I’m sure he still is. I haven’t seen him in forever. I remember feeling so caught up in him. He made me feel so special, but we went to different schools and my stupid boy crazed hormones fucked everything up.

Well, no, actually he broke up with me first. I think he said he heard I was a player. No wait, he heard from someone that I liked someone else or something. Which I guess was true, someone you know as, asshole. But I hadn’t even done anything about it, asshole and I were just friends back then. When Dylan finally realized this, I guess I was too hurt to take him back. He asked me out a bunch of times and wrote me sweet letters. But I turned the other way. I’d been jaded and thought being single would be more to my advantage. That didn’t last very long at all. Thus began my slow spiral of doomed relationship after doomed relationship.

It’s a wonder I’m not a lesbian.

But being with Dylan was different. That’s maybe why everything has been so fucked up since. He’s the only guy I ever spent hours with talking on the phone about absolutely nothing. He’s the only guy who ever walked across town just to come and see me, or to write me notes when I wasn’t home and leave them tucked under my front door.

He was the first guy I ever French kissed. I still remember it vividly. It was down the street from my house, I was walking him part way home and we were holding hands. His dark hair, which I think of as black, but it’s more of a dark brown, was tucked inside his Chicago Bulls cap. He wore his jeans loose with a white t-shirt and he had the bluest eyes and nicest smile. He was always smiling at me. He was always happy to see me.

That kiss was so sweet. I remember the exact moment he tugged softly on my arm and pulled me up to face him. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but he didn’t. He put his arms around my waist and got really serious, like we were about to do something so forbidden. Then he scrunched his face up and goes “Hey, what’s that over there?” He motioned with a nod to something behind me. When I turned around to look, there was nothing there. When I turned back, wham! There were his lips. I was like Whoa! We kissed and he opened his mouth first and our tongues circled softly and slowly. It felt amazing and awkward at the same time, like I didn’t know when to stop. He didn’t taste bad or anything either, I remember being worried about that. It was over so quickly though. Lost in the smiles and giggles of my excitement. He laughed and hugged me and told me how lucky he was to have found me that one day at the mall.

I guess I understand now why he got so jealous when he heard I liked someone else. Maybe I did kinda break his heart a little bit. I don’t want to make excuses, but it was hard going to separate schools, meeting all different people, getting invited to different parties. I used to think it just wasn’t meant to be. I can’t help that Mother Nature made so many hot guys and then sprinkled them in high schools everywhere.

But Dylan was the first boy I ever let get close to me. He was the first boy I gave my heart to. Since then, after every lame attempt at creating some sort of lasting relationship with anyone else has gone sour, I think of him and kick myself in the ass for not taking him back. Things could have been different. I could have learned to be a normal girlfriend, instead of the socially inept one I am now.

Maybe I’ll call him. His number is probably the same. Fuck, I just got a tiny panic attack thinking about what I would say.

I don’t even think he is single right now. The last I heard he had this wicked tough girlfriend who likes to start drama and fight a lot. I heard she kicked the shit out of a few girls who went to her school to start with her. They got a rude awakening. She broke one girls’ nose and ripped some of the hair out of the others girls head. So yeah, maybe calling him is out of the question. Just another fantasy to take me away from my own bleak existence.

Ugh, I should get to sleep. I don’t know why I keep myself up so late. At least I can sleep in tomorrow. That’s one good thing about the summer, the only thing I have to work on is my tan. But who am I kidding, I’ll probably spend tomorrow watching lame movies and writing lame poetry until Parker stops by after summer school to drag me to the lame ass mall.

Maybe I can talk her into having a bomb fire this weekend or something. We always have a blast one way or another when fire is involved. Perhaps it’s time I shed this bitter chip off my shoulder and toss it to the flames. Perhaps then I can arise from the ashes like a Phoenix, and enjoy these few last weeks of summer before I really need to toughen up my skin and head back to hell.


If you read this, you die!

This is the very first instalment of the Grunge Girls Diaries from my series on Wattpad. I have posted other parts of it here on my blog, more recently the “Falling in Love with an Addict” series. This was a couple years before that, the summer before grade 11, 1993 when I was a musically obsessed, boy crazed, 16 year old Catholic high school girl. Enjoy!

This diary belongs to: Katie Flynn 1993-1994 – Grades 11 & 12

A reader’s note: if anyone reads this BUT me or someone with direct permission from me, they will be cursed forever! And when they die they will be sent to live in agony in hell, or heaven, the one they would hate to be in more. In others words; IF YOU READ THIS YOU DIE!! ((You all have permission to read this, so this curse is void))


Katie Flynn

The world is ours, as well as theirs. But in the last analysis, it is ours! Us young people, full of vigour and vitality, in the bloom of life; like the sun at mid morning. Their hope is placed on us. We, the young, think of a future earth and will always act on its behalf, cause we only get one chance on this world and we gotta make it count.
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where once we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws. – Jim Morrison
Dark is all I feel.

↑↑↑↑Inside Cover↑↑↑↑

↓↓↓↓First Entry↓↓↓↓

August 3,  1993

Hey. You are like my fifth diary. I guess I enjoy writing down all my feelings and the special events in my life. I was reading over my diary from grades nine and ten, god I was so young and foolish! My first time getting drunk (which hasn’t happened since) and my first french kiss (which I can say has happened a few or more times). I even smoked pot. The last time was over like four months ago and when I think about it, it makes me anxious. I used to party really hard all the time. Now when I go to parties, I just go to have fun with my friends. I don’t need to drink or do drugs, I don’t like losing control like that. Geez maybe my problem is moderation?? It’s still around everywhere though.

But I have bigger problems. Let’s see, well Marie, she is my bestest friend in the whole world and not really a problem at all really. Seriously, I bet when we’re fifty years old we’ll still be best friends. I always pictured us blaring music when we’re old and grey on some porch outside watching everyone who could still walk go about their business.

Then there’s Tammy and Jen. We used to be real good friends but things have changed for me a bit I guess. Now Jen goes to parties whenever she can, she just follows where the weed takes her. But that was me like a few months ago so I can’t judge.

And Tammy well, she follows the guys. I’m not saying anything is wrong with that either, I’d love to have ten different guys calling me, but she just meets so many new people, sometimes I just can’t keep up. Now her and Jen hang around an older crowd with these two chicks from our school. They seem pretty cool, but I don’t know if I could ever be as close to them as Tammy and Jen have gotten. So I’ve hardly gone out with them this summer. Maybe when school starts again everything will go back to normal.

Or maybe I’m just going to have to deal with it. I’m not much of a people person, you know? I really have to want to be your friend first before I even try getting to know you.

Maybe I should become more outgoing or something.

God, I’m describing myself as a loser. No, it’s not like that. I know plenty of people. But I’m really close to only one or two people and feel comfortable around a few more. And guys aren’t my problem, just finding that one right guy is. I just haven’t had much luck.

To make matters worse, Tammy hates Luke (Marie’s boyfriend) and his friend Kevin (the guy who is crushing on me, I think) and I am always around these people, ALWAYS! It’s like I’m being pulled in two different directions. Kevin is a good guy. He’s artsy, plays the guitar, but I dunno. I just don’t feel that spark, you know.

Man, sometimes I wish I could disappear forever. Like, relocate into a different culture. I might have more of a chance at finding a guy. It’s not like that one right guy is just gonna come along and save me from all this confusion.

Though sometimes I think I let that right guy go way back in grade nine. My first boyfriend (REALBF) Trevor. He’s been the only guy that I could talk to on the phone for two hours about absolutely everything and nothing in particular.  He was the first guy to tell me he loved me and I really believed him and the first guy to dump me. But I guess he regretted that cause he asked me out 1000 times after and I said no cause I was afraid of getting hurt again.

Sometimes I still think of him and just want to call him. I wouldn’t even know what to say. I don’t even know what he’s doing now. The last I heard he had this wicked tough girlfriend who liked to start drama. I really don’t need any more of that. I guess we are two different people in one big old fucked up planet. God, being a teenager sucks! I hope I get through it alright.

Until later. SEE YA

But Still, I’d rather 

Rediscovering timelessness

and endless feelings, 

an ancient youth hoping to be saved. 

Years of innocence and understanding, 

broken by guilt and accusations. 
Where are the simple times? 

Where are the sleepovers and double dares of our past,

when Spin the bottle was a favourite pastime?

What happened to the boys who were satisfied with a slow dance?

When did we invite the lies and deception to the party?

Where are the boys who were too embarrassed to hold our hands?
I can tell you where they are!

Grown into mature young men 

with a deep yearning for fornication. 

Us, young mature women feeling sexual and sensuous, 

allowing ourselves to participate in the violent act of love, 

willingly and happily. 
What would our kindergarten teacher say? 

You know, the one who caught us in the sandbox trying to look down each others pants. 

That’s where it all started, 

impulse-ating and mutating us into these creatures. 

These, these…. Teenagers.
We could look at it this way, 

we’re only this age once, right? 

So forget about your kindergarten teacher. 

Go fornicate in the streets! 

Forget lies and that girl in your class who would tell the whole school what you were doing in five minutes. 

Forget guilt! 

Forget sin! 

Sins are for those with a conscience, 

a conscience is for those with a mind. 

Forget your mind! 

Hedonists of the world, practice your faith! 

Live with us in our pleasure. 

Drop the “my-dad-won’t-let-me, my-dad-would-kill-me” act. 

Be free!

But… then back comes the guilt, 

and your mind returns and your conscience kicks in and you think

 – well, I wouldn’t want the whole school to think that maybe one of us mature young women could be a little different.

So you stick with your poems or your paints or your music.

Saying ‘no’ does have its privileges, right?