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BodiesMain MenuForewordA brief introductionIndexA stylistic catalog of contentWhat is Body?What is Body? (1/5)What is Self?What is Self? (1/3)What is Gender?What is Gender? (1/1)Who am I?Who am I? (1/1)Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722e
Assemblage
12019-03-15T21:13:58-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722e328382a construction of my body and its sites of anxietyplain2019-03-15T21:46:10-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722e
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12019-03-15T21:36:26-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722eNail marksAmanda Liaw4annotation on "Assemblage"plain2019-03-15T21:47:22-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722e
12019-03-15T21:36:42-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722eTeeth marksAmanda Liaw3annotation on "Assemblage"plain2019-03-15T21:47:46-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722e
12019-03-15T21:36:03-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722eArm scratchAmanda Liaw3annotation on "Assemblage"plain2019-03-15T21:46:42-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722e
12019-03-15T21:35:33-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722eCold soreAmanda Liaw3annotation on "Assemblage"plain2019-03-15T21:46:57-07:00Amanda Liaw8f1ce7dd0123985bc062c4070739891182ee722e
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12019-03-16T16:53:04-07:00Anxiety3What is Gender: Journal #5plain2019-03-16T21:18:37-07:00
May 2011
I was depressed through my second and third year of school. I can't remember how it started but I'd dissolved what I considered a toxic friendship at the time, and then it became difficult to do things. My mind was always running, it was out of control. I had insomnia and couldn't sleep nearly every night. It'd be a weird half-sleep I'd fall into where I would just be with my body and not feel any rest. In the mornings I'd go to school where I suddenly couldn't pretend like it was all okay anymore. I'd excuse myself to the bathroom and just sit outside on the floor with nothing to look at. Life was a punishment. I stuffed myself into lockers. The friends I have now, who only saw me in passing during this time, tell me I was a very strange classmate. I'd find different corners of the school to sob in. I can only vaguely remember what I was sobbing so much about. Everything felt empty all the time, like nothing was worth anything. I was too afraid to cut, so I bit and scratched myself. I'd poke my fingers with needles. I wished above all that I didn't exist.
