November 16, 2013

Being Attractive...Eww.

So, the other day, I was sitting in my AP (stands for advanced placement) Language and Composition class and we were given the prompt "What does it mean to be attractive?" We only had about 5 minutes to informally respond to this, but as the class progressed I began to think about it a little more. We went to the computer lab to type a final, formal draft of any of our prompted journal writes so far this year: so I chose this one.
And.....ladies and gents, I present to you...my response.

What does it mean to be attractive?

This is a topic many people do not talk about in public simply because the term ‘attractive’ is subjective to opinion. There is no ‘right or wrong’ answer when asked this controversial question. The world has one opinion of what attractive people look like. For women, she has medium sized breasts, substantially long legs, a slender frame and lean build.

Once you have the basics down, you can “dress her up” however you want: blonde hair or brown hair, blue eyes or green eyes, freckles or no freckles. It sounds reasonable, but in reality, the ratio of people who have the genetic composition to possibly look like that to the people who actually look like that is astonishingly disappointing. The world’s opinion of an attractive man is also seemingly reasonable, yet completely overrated. He has short-looking hair (probably spiked up with Axe hair-gel or something); he would be tall, somewhere between six and six and a half feet, broad shoulders, and sculpted pectoral and abdominal muscles.

It is so easy to identify and ‘accept’ these opinions of what an attractive person looks like because that is what we see all the time, no matter where we are or what we are doing.
People will argue that because these images and ideas are so widely spread that they must be true, and we can either accept them, or lie to make ourselves feel better. Others will argue that everyone is attractive in their own way and that no one should ever tell anyone else that they are not attractive. Well, both sides are full of it.

You can’t answer one way or the other. If you only care about being physically attractive, then argument one would be more logically reasonable; if you only care about being mentally attractive (i.e. having an attractive personality, shared sense of humor and reason-based opinions, etc.), then argument two is much more logical. But the reality is, that not one person on this planet, or any other for that matter, cares solely about one type over the other, meaning that they would look only at being physically attractive or only being mentally attractive. It is impossible to think that way. We are human beings, and we desire to be completely desired by one other person; we want that one person to want every part of us, physically and mentally. We desire to want someone in both aspects as well. If a female was solely physically attracted to a male, but he was aggressive and beat her, or had multiple affairs going on with numerous other females, the original female would be so ‘turned off’ that she would no longer be attracted to him. Most people in current times would call this male some vulgar names and use awful descriptions. Do not mistake me, this is a two-way street here. A male could be just as easily attracted to a female, and she would just as likely be aggressive and abuse him, or have multiple affairs with other men and the original would be horrified by this females actions! It is implausible to believe that people, human beings, can equate the whole meaning of the word ‘attractive’, with part of the definition or the other.

Being attractive is discovering that someone else on this planet thinks and feels the same things you do; that someone else on this Earth has common interests, and a similar sense of humor. Finding someone to be attractive means to find someone to be in unison with you--not a carbon copy, but a companion, a significant other. Being ‘attractive’ is a universal idea that no one can define because of the human interactions and desires associated with the idea.

November 2, 2013

Here It Is.

Alright all you lovely Canadians (and those remaining faithful Americans). I've been gone for a really time; I'm sorry I have not been here like I promised you I would be. I am so sorry. But I'm back now, and I hope that it's not to late to try and fix this. Infamously, I announce my disclaimer: nothing in this blog post or any other post (reposted or original) is intended to be hurtful, offensive, degrading, etc. This blog is my personal space, and I choose to share it with you all who choose to read it. Thank you for your understanding and patience.


I've had to read the play-version of The Crucible for my AP (advanced placement) English class. For those of you who don't know, it's about the Salem witch trials of 1692, and Arthur Miller (the play write of the play) wrote it during the Red Scare of the 1950's and '60's to show the relation between the paranoia of the 1600's, and the continuance of ignorance and selfishness that still exists to this very day.

The town/village that the play takes place in is a  strictly puritan community. The children are not permitted to speak to unless spoken to first, and admitting you did  something wrong, or 'confessing your sins', is WORSE than whatever it is that you did wrong. It doesn't matter what you do, if you are not perfect, than you are forever worthless and shameful. Let me tell you something, folks: that idea, that way of thinking, has NOT changed in some people.

I live this way every day, and I am not a puritan. As some of you know, I am a Christian. And I believe that God forgives me of my sins when I confess them, and that He wants to help me; that He loves me and cares for me.

I come home from school, and no one but my boyfriend of 5 years says anything to me. Everyone else ignores me. Like I am not even in the room. I go upstairs to put my stuff down, and take out my homework, and after a few minutes, my mom (of course), yells to me to come downstairs and says that I hide in my room and never come down or acknowledge that there are other people living in the house. Her boyfriend, whom we shall call K, treats me and apparently tells my mom that he thinks I'm basically a piece of sh*t, that I'm irresponsible, dimwitted, and that I do whatever I want with no regard for anyone else. Oh, and that I use everyone to get what I want. Kind of like a prostitute. SO...

I sit here, mute and still. Afraid that if I move, I will set someone off some how, and that I will not be able to make it better. And I don't want people to get mad at me, or upset with me; I most certainly don't want them getting upset with me and taking it out on J (my boyfriend mentioned above ^^ ).

I fought tooth and nail for him to be able to live here because it wasn't working where he was, and his parents didn't want him (ironic, huh?); and now he's stuck here in the middle of all of this, and I brought him here. Because I was selfish and just wanted to be with him all the time. I didn't think what would happen, or what it would do to him. I just wanted to be with him. And it's hurting him more than it's helping him.

What the hell do I do?






Have you ever felt like nothing you do is ever good enough? Like it doesn't matter how well you do in school, how hard you work at your job, or how much you love someone, it's just never good enough? And the more you try, the worse it gets?

No?


Okay.


Thanks for listening.


I'm going to try to sleep now.

Maybe not.

September 24, 2013

People Just Don't Understand

Hi.

I am half tempted to go take the remaining 10 narcotic painkillers in my medicine cabinet because I am just fed up and tired of life beating the sh*t out of me and dragging me down. Now, you may think "Oh, she won't do it. She isn't sad enough." or "She wouldn't dare." or "She's better than that."
You know what?
Shove it.
Because you DONT know, and you DONT understand.
No, I am not going to, because I don't want to.
That's what people don't understand.
People who commit suicide or attempt it, ACTUALLY want to leave this horrid place. They don't want to die, they just know that if they take all these pills, tie a loop in this rope, cut up their arms instead of across them, they won't have to be here. They can leave. If losing their life is the price of being able to escape all of these horrible, wretched, unbearably evil and cold-hearted people, then  so be it. Let it happen.
Sometimes I wonder if the cold-hearted people SEE how cold-hearted they really are.
If they do, why do they treat others so poorly?
If they don't, how come?
Gosh.
Sometime, I just get so fed up with it, I hide.
I hide in my room.
I hide in books.
I hide in school.
I hide in my homework.
I hide in studying for a test.
I hide at work.
I hide.
Everywhere.
All the time.
Why?
I don't know.
I am tired of people. I am tired of being around them. I am tired of hearing about them. I am tired of being told that I need to be around them; I need to be friends with them; I have to socialize with them. When does common sense come in? The common sense of not wanting to be around somebody or a group of people because they treat you poorly and you have enough common sense to know that you DO NOT deserve to be treated that way and WILL NOT sit around and let people treat you in such a manner. When does that come into the picture? When do I get to explain myself? Why do I even HAVE to explain myself?
I just don't get it.
I am tired of trying to understand.
I am tired.

People just don't understand that there is way more going on in someone else's life and in their head than what they see or hear.

-J

September 4, 2013

False Standards.

This is a short story I wrote today in my spare time during my AP English class. Comments?
I will also explain it after I write the whole thing out. Again. So I can share it with you all. <3



There once was a girl who lived in a small village. The village, much like the girl, was considered average. A general store, a few houses around the outside, a jail that was always too full, and a bank that never had enough.

     This girl looked like the average 17-year-old female today. She was 'thicke', but lean; she was just as tall as her male friends. Although she may have seemed to look slightly unattractive and plain, upon closer examination, she was indubitably radiant. Her cheek bones stood boldly under her eyes, yet were rounded and smooth. Her nose protruding only slightly from the center of her face. She had eyes like the ocean, almost as if someone had taken water from the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean and poured it into her irises.

    Her figure smooth, with curves like a slow moving stream. While some may consider her waist "unfitting" for a young woman, their image of a 'woman' is poisoned. The image is derived from a piece of plastic. Inanimate. Fake. Dead. Something created and defined by numbers and measurements that are appealing, not physically possibly.

This girl, radiant and beautiful, stands alone and secluded by the people in her own village. Ugly words and distasteful glances fly like flaming arrows; connecting with the flesh like an aggravated wasp defending itself. This girl with ocean eyes and gold skin, feels and sees and hears nothing but the flaming arrows of the archers aiming at her from their dark and lonely holes deep inside the earth. This girl knows nothing of who she is or what she wants because she's never heard of such outlandish concepts! Being an individual in this village is a crime. A crime punishable by something much worse than death: isolation.

    This girl stands alone. Waiting to hear of something greater. Looking for some kind of emotional connection with another human being. Listening for the signal to leap off the ground and fly.

This girl is blind. She is deaf. She is mute. This girls is her village. Destined to become nothing more than the dirt of that she stands upon. Told nothing but the truth of a deceitful tongue, and taught only ignorance of all feeling and emotion.
This girl is here.
This girl is me.

***

Okay. So...it's deep right? I don't know. I thought it came out well. 
We've been reading a lot of formal literature. Anti Parenthetical and rhetoric style and tone. 
Reading things analytically and learning to write formally in non-fiction. 

This is non-fiction. Based on my own personal experiences with self-image issues, eating disorders, and self-harm. Mostly with  self-image because I still have a HUGE problem with my self-image. 

It's written in a third person point of view. But the speaker is also subject (the girl) and the narrator. 

It's supposed to give you the image of this beautiful girl. And how you would see her as she physically appears. And then, it shows you how her village (society today) sees her and what they tell her. Then, towards the end, it's supposed to demonstrate how she sees herself. She's blind because she can't see herself unbiased and impure. She doesn't have the physical brain power to see herself as she physically appears. She is deaf because she hears nothing but the same sound. background noise. Silence. It's the same thing. All the time. 24/7. She is mute because she has never been offered the opportunity to speak for herself. To defend herself and reveal her emotions. She has this fake impression of what she is and how she looks because of things people have said to her and taught her and demonstrated through their own actions. While these people are hiding in their own holes. Their own self-image issues and self-hatred and personal secrets that make them feel like they are nothing more than dirt they walk on. It's a imagery piece intended to illustrate the issue with stereo-typing the female image and the false standards we as young girls are held to. 

okay. Rant done.


Thanks guys.(:

August 31, 2013

Being Pissed Off

Not a long post here. Sorry. /:

Schools be crazy, and work is hectic. Lately, some issues with other people have been arising, and I just don't have a whole lot of time to post. But...here's the sitch.





I have anger management problems. Serious ones. For anyone one of you 673 viewers, in the united states (including alaska) has any ideas or suggestions about how to help, let me know. ASAP.

Thanks.

p.s. Don't tell me to throw things, or take up sports......>.>

August 22, 2013

DA DA DA DAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

hi.

So..I go back to school in 6 days. 5 if you count me visiting the best teacher ever during Freshman Orientation. I CANNOT WAIT!

I think I might just drop that thun thun thun I'm so excited.

Okay. I am really hyper...and I can't sleep.

stupid insomnia. I hope this post doesn't get boring.

I could have my own reality tv show. I just need a camera to follow me around for like...20 minuts and BOOM.

Id be more famous than Pluto after tthey took away it's planethood.

I made my coworkers a giant cookie plate. Its gonna say our place of works name written in chocolate frosting. Because I am freaking awesome like that and have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING better to do with my time.

Boo.

Uh...I don't know. I am making cookies. And you can't have any.

Sorry for the lack of engaging and intellectual thinking.

Can't help it.

<3

August 21, 2013

Thoughts From The Insomniac

Well...I got a call from the doctor today...and?

LONG STANDING INSOMNIA.
 what is it you ask?

simply,
I can't sleep. Ever. And on the rare occasion I do fall unconscious, it's restless. like I had never actually fallen asleep. I can't sleep for long periods of time.

It's just...bad.

Preparing to stay awake for the rest of my life.

Getting better at solitaire and minesweeper.

I SHALL BE A CHAMPION ONE DAY.

gosh. I seriously cannot sleep. lets see if I can find an article on LSI.

...

Click here for article


hmmm.......well, that's a few things that sounds familiar...

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/insomnia/DS00187/DSECTION=symptoms


another link.....me. all of them.

and this is why (for those of you not in my time zone)..I'm writing at 2AM.

yeah.


















August 12, 2013

Rejection.

Welcome to my world again, lovely people.

Disclaimer: no offense is meant. Sorry if you take any. It isn't personal nor purposeful.

Okay...

Being rejected.

It's probably one of the worst feelings in the world. And it doesn't hurt any more than your best friends and even parts of your family rejecting you. Writing you off. Like you're the one who shot them.

I didn't do anything to you, and you just..."K" is all I get from you. I was trying to be nice. And I get K? K?!

Screw you too, bro.

Gosh. Don't you hate it when people do that?

Ugh.

That really hurts.

I need to start taking my meds again. This is ridiculous.

AGH!

I need something. I need to do something.
I need to run. I need to stretch my legs and let all of the pent up anger and frustration and depression and frustration out. I need to run.

I need to breathe.

Rejection sucks.

Don't push me away when I didn't do anything to you.

Gosh.

Thanks for listening to my rant, guys.

<3

August 11, 2013

The Earth Says Hello! (:

Hello there

This is very surprising to me...608 page views! Holy crap guys! Thanks!

I'm REALLY sorry I haven't been posting lately. There's been SO much going on in my life! 

Let me pick up basically where I left off...in quick summaries, and little picture memes (because we all love those)! 

June: My mom threw me a surprise party for my 16th birthday...my best friend D (no names) was there, and he actually just left to go home (he lives in a different state). J didn't come, because we weren't together (nor were we talking, as you know). It got really nervous and panicked because I didn't know what to do...0.0


I don't find panic attacks to be a joke, because I know they're not. I only make fun of MY OWN problems and silly mistakes and screw ups. Just so you all know and don't take offense. (:

Anyways, then...I got my license (got a 94!)
And I think that's all the exciting stuff that happened in June...

JULY! (:

Um...my sister turned 7. Which is exciting. 

My very good friend passed away...which is VERY sad. Still having a hard time coming to terms with it. /,: 
He drowned saving his friend from drowning in a waterfall. All I can think of when I think of this friend is the verse in the Bible that says that no one knows a greater love than someone who gives his life for his friends. I cried for a while...um..yeah. I can't talk about this any more.

Then J and I worked things out...the day after my friend passed. J was very helpful and supportive that night. Which was good. I needed it.

Anyways...we went on our mission trip! Which was absolutely AMAZING by the way.

We had so many amazing God moments, and saw some AMAZING sites. 

We made GREAT memories. 
It was good stuff. (:

The day after we came back, I had a job interview at the sub shop downtown where I live, and they started me that day after that. I work 6 days a week there! Plus every other saturday with a little boy who has a mental disability (he's adorable, I've been working with him for 5 years). So I get two days to myself out of the month...haha!

And now....we're here!

I know! I have a boring life, I'm sorry. Haha.

Oh! One exciting thing was I got multiple calls back from InterFace (a model agency), and they REALLY want me to come in and sit down with them. But my mom won't let me. She doesn't want to go down, and she "doesn't have time". Psh. That's okay though. 

And uh...I think that's it. 

...




What do you want me to write about?
A story? A person?
Need advice?
Let me know!

-Jasmine (:

June 27, 2013

Here We Go Again

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, guys. Things have been really up and down lately. And I haven't had a lot of time to write anything.

Am I the only one that noticed the six bruises on my legs? Am I the only one who is concerned that they've been there for a few weeks and haven't gone away nor do I know where they came from?

Yes?

The only one?


Okay. I see.

Thanks.

June 15, 2013

Well then...that was..umm...interesting.

Hey guys. No disclaimer this time.

Okay..so, my birthday is Monday...and my mom decided to throw me a surprise party today...so..um....yeah.

June 13, 2013

This Is Ridiculous.

Okay. Disclaimer. Blah blah blah. I apologize in advance for any possible offense from this post. If I happen to accidentally offend you, I'm sorry. Therefore it is no longer my fault if you are offended. Boom. Okay. Disclaimer. Swerve.

Okay. So...I come home around 12:30 this afternoon from my last exam, and my mom was all cool like whatever and hugged me cause I was crying about my friend. So..she was in a good mood. She comes home after work, you know, still in a good mood. Cool. And AS SOON AS SOMETHING GOES WRONG, like my sister (S) gets mad or wants something she can't have, my mother magically disappears and I am the ONLY ONE left to deal with S. And I hate it. Because I shouldn't be the one she calls "mommy" by accident and says "sorry sissy".  I shouldn't have to be the one to restrain her on the ground for an hour. I shouldn't have to be the bad guy all the time. I'm her SISTER. NOT her mother. For almost 7 years I have been the bad guy. No one wants to be the bad guy for that long.

This is just ridiculous.

F***ing Ridiculous.

I apologize about the vulgarity in the title of this post...but honestly, people. Today has just been absolutely ridiculous. Disclaimer. I do not intend to offend anyone, but if you are offended (by what, I don't know), it's no longer my fault. (:

Okay. So, I wake up this morning...ready to throw up. I felt (and still do feel) like complete crap. So, naturally, I told my mom this (bad idea). She told me to get up anyways. And that I was going to school and I didn't have a choice. So...she was grumpy toward me all morning...I get to school, go through the day, get an "Outstanding Art Achievement Award" from school during the awards assembly. Blah blah blah. Boring boring boring.

Soo....my moms bf...lets call him......no. We won't nickname him. He's just....horrible. Ugh. A different story for a different blog post. Anyways...

So, he picks me up from school at like 3:15. Which is an hour EARLIER than my mom usually picks me up in the bus. So I sat in the car waiting for an hour. When she gets in..she asks how I am feeling. Doesn't even LISTEN to my reply, and starts yelling at the foster child (he's 12) that lives with us because he got sent home from school early, and no one was home.

yeah. I don't remember where I was going with this post. I tried to post this, but blogger wouldn't let me for whatever reason.

Chris.

Okay. So...today was my last day of school. Finished my exams up around noon. And I went upstairs to my Spanish teachers room....and I cried. Umm...sorry I haven't posted in a while, but blogger hasn't been letting me post stuff for whatever reason. So..let's get started shall we?

So yesterday my school did two of four exam sessions. And my best friend Chris was there to do his, and for graduation rehearsal. And I wasn't. And he didn't come to school today because he didn't have any more exams...but I did. And he left me this picture printed out and matted.


He's my best friend. When M or M's boyfriend hurt me, or J was being a douche, or someone just....decided it was a good day to get under my skin and bother me...he was there to hug me and make me laugh. I can't stand the thought of not seeing him everyday. I have lost my best friend as of today, and I hate it. I hate it so much. I won't ever see him again. The chances are next to impossible. And it sucks losing someone that you are so close to. 

I was so numb, and broken, and just...spiraling out of control and down into a very deep, dark hole. And then he comes along, and just...stops it all. I was such a mess. Just...completely unwilling to let any one in and see what was going on, or that I was dead to the world and I didn't want to care anymore. And I didn't realize it till now, but he woke me up. He made me feel like i was important, and that I was cared about. I feel like I creeped him out when I told him how much his gift meant to me. But you know, it means so much more than anything I could ever say.

Goodbye's are hard, and painful, but the worst ones are the ones you never get the chance to say. The last hugs are the most difficult to let go of, but the most painful ones are the ones you never get to have. It hurts to imagine the mornings and afternoons with out him. Without laughing...without joy...without my friend. Losing a best friend is something that you can't really imagine until it happens. In the 7th grade, my sister K moved to Florida. And we cried on her last day at school. We hugged for what felt like forever and cried and cried. I didn't see her again until this past summer (2012) when she came up for a wedding. That's a 3 year difference. With her, it wasn't as difficult; there was closure. The last hug. The final goodbye. 

......


I don't know. I'm sorry.

Bye guys.

May 30, 2013

This Too Shall Pass

Okay...soo...I started this in my English class at the beginning of the year...when things were really bad. And...I wanted to finish it. So...here it goes.

Please stop yelling.
Please stop screaming.
Go ahead and kick me out.
Keep telling me how much you hate me.
One day I'll be gone away,
And you'll wish you had be nicer.

Please don't raise your voice,
It hurts me when you yell.
I don't want to be around you anymore,
You beat me down a little farther every day.
Some days I want to run away,
But I remember the reason why I have stayed.
One day I hope you'll see the way you treat me.

Don't raise your voice,
It's unnecessary.
I can't leave unfortunately,
So I have to stay for now.
Until I can fly away,
I will not let you tear me down.
I am weak beyond compare,
But God is all the strength I need.
I stay because of her,
The other one you brought into this world.
I will make her life easier,
And be the hope she needs.
To show her that not everyone,
Is horrible and mean.

I cannot control your voice.
I can't control myself.
The situation is not in my hands,
But in God's and His alone.
I was given this trial,
For a reason that is unknown.
I have to place my trust in God,
And let Him take care of you.
I know you do not understand,
And that's okay, too.
One day you'll see the light,
And I will know the truth.

Until that day in Heaven,
My life is here on Earth.
My soul is held by God.
Jesus brought me an invitation,
And now I understand.
Things won't always be good,
Nor will they be great.
But this life I hold,
Is not my own.

Trials come,
And trials go.
You will see,
And so shall I.
Until it's time,
I sit and wait.
And remember the phrase:
"This too, shall pass."

May 24, 2013

Me...Talking To Myself...About My Own Problems....0.o

Sometimes I wonder why things work/don't work out the way they do!

So...when you care for someone...you would think that they would WANT to talk to you about something that happened so the two of you could work it out? Wouldn't they want to talk to you? You tell them you NEED to talk to them...and they tell you they "just don't want to".

ugh. I am so frustrated. I need to calm down. Going to an anxiety attack. Oh gosh. I need to talk to him. This is so dumb. Ridiculous. I just....Y U SO COMPLICATED?!?!?!?!?!?!

I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. Y U AVOID ME?!

Y U SO ANGRY?!

Y U SO MAD!? U DID DA WRONG TING!? Y I DA BAD GUY?!?!?!?!

So stupid. I need to breathe. Sorry about the short post. By HOLY CRAP. I NEED TO GO FOR A WALK. Things just aren't the same with out you. I need to go do something. But my heart is racing. Holy crap. Oh my gosh. BREAAAATTTTTHHHHHH C BREATTTHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Oh my gosh. What the heck. CALM DOWN. ugh. I really need to stop talking to myself.

-C

May 22, 2013

Sometimes We Just Need To Start Over

So....let's call him J. Okay? J. So...J and I have been super close best friends for several years. And...this past Valentines Day, he gave me a BEAUTIFUL necklace. And we started sort-of/kind-of courting and then, a few months after that, we started dating. And it was wonderful. He is one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life. And we've been through a lot of crap together. We have such similar backgrounds and come from almost identical home lives. It's just...it's weird but it's amazingly wonderful. And then..I was stupid and got scared. If you know me well, you know I have horrible communication skills (if any).

We broke up (because of me, obviously), and we stopped talking. I stopped wearing the necklace he gave me. But I always took it with me wherever I went. Then, I decided one day, that I wanted to be close to him again. I missed him. So I started wearing it again. And I tried to talk to him a million times. And he avoided me. So, I became aggressively assertive and told him that we were going to talk whether he liked it or not. And we did. We talked out pretty much everything.

And we were best friends again. Playing board games, hanging out every possible day we could. It was good. And then..we started dating again. We dated for almost two months. And it was perfect. We were communicating (I thought), and we were doing what we were supposed to in the youth group as leaders. No PDA (public displays of affection); we were going strong. And then...my ex boy friend; we'll call him Pt. Pt came to youth group one night after J and I had just abruptly ended a heated discussion on our responsibilities versus our relationship and which came first. And Pt and I were talking with me and some of my other friends. We were just hanging out. Casual conversation, catching up. You know, talking like family. innocent conversation. So, J sees this, and gets upset. Not much I can do. I didn't invite Pt to youth group, and I'm not going to ignore him just because J is insecure. Not going to happen.

Then, Pt wanted to come back to my house to talk with my mom and such, and catch up with the rest of the family. Nothing I could really do about that. So the three of us went back to my house. Pt ended up staying the night because he couldn't go home. And J decided he was going to lie to me, go through my phone, accuse me of cheating, and then try and guilt me into telling him we'd stay together beyond high school. Well, me being me, I over reacted. I was mad, and I had a right to be. He violated my privacy. I didn't and still have nothing to hide from him. It was just really disrespectful and uncalled for. And so...after thinking about it for a week and a half, I decided we needed a break. Because we had lost our identities as individuals. And I desperately needed to find mine.

So...it's been about a month since that whole thing ended.I obviously stopped wearing that necklace. I had buried it somewhere in my room and i forgot where it was. I didn't care that I had forgotten about it because it didn't matter. It holds too many memories that I could not handle.

As I was cleaning my room this evening, though, I found it. I found the necklace. I just....I picked it up. And now it is sitting in my hands, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. I don't know what I want to do. Much less what I should do. I am at a loss. I have been swallowed by this whirl pool of emotions and memories all tied into one little heart shaped necklace. I don't know whether I should wear it, to show him that I want to be friends again. Or if I should just put it away and leave it to rest. Any ideas?

-Sincerely,
Me.

May 20, 2013

The Darkest Days Have the Darkest Shadows

Hello everyone. I decided to write in this font today, for whatever reason. I don't know. But, again. Disclaimer. No offense meant. No disrespect. Just me, venting to a computer that tells me a bunch of people have been looking at my page. So....yeah.

So, for those of who have been reading my previous posts, you will know that I cut (if you haven't read these previous posts, you might want to. They are informative of the situations I am talking about).

So, I take showers (obviously). And I cut on a regular basis; a pretty consistent cycle. Cut, let it bleed, come down off the high, freak out, cut again. A vicious cycle, really. And, this went on for a long time. Months and months and months. I told my friends that I had stopped, and they believed me. I hid the scars and the open cuts, and I still do hide the scars and the closing cuts.

Shame is an exclusively powerful emotion, yet extremely rare. Shame is also an emotion you don't ever really get rid of once you begin to feel it. It consumes you. Every look, every word, every tiny detail that would be otherwise meaningless, screams out to you. It screams about your flaws, your imperfections, your every mistake. And to you, it screams these things out to the world for everyone to hear. After it's out there, you can never take it back. That's when you either fall in deep (like me), or you run like the wind (like any sensible person).

When I started to see that this shame had begun to direct my life, and all of my actions, I found myself waiting for that next high. Waiting to see the blood, and feel the cold water rush over the broken skin and numb my whole body. I began to stash band-aids and gauze pads with medical tape in my night stand drawers. I knew in my head that I was sick. That I had become addicted to this cycle of constant highs and never ending anxiety. I became this adrenaline junkie. Just sitting around waiting to come down just so I could feel the rush of going back up. I knew in my mind that I was mentally sick, and that I wasn't going to get better.

I don't really want to go into much more detail, but the gist is, that once I had begun to settle into the "comfort" of this addiction, I started seeing how it effected the people around me. I lost my best friend. I lost my sister in God. I butchered a family relationship that is so gratefully willing to take me back out of love. And I became a miserable person to be around. And these people were leaving me to sit and be miserable by myself. Which they had every right to do.

And one night, this past Saturday night, I went up to talk to someone who I had never talked to more than just a "hey" or making fun of each other because we were all joking around. I had a serous conversation with this person. He is an amazing person, and I really like him. He's a great friend. And I think we are going to get really close this summer. Let's call this person C. So, me and C talked about how I had lost my best friend, and what I should do to go about mending this friendship. And we talked for a while...and as I was leaving, I felt this urge, this need to confess to him about my addiction and the high. And he saw them. He didn't freak out. He didn't ask why. He just told me that I needed to find a way to fix this friendship, and I needed to get help. From God. And do some serious praying. And...I just kind of sat there. Staring at him. He was right.

So, that is what I did. The friendship thing...still a work in progress, but that's not my "big news". My news is that, for the first time in 5 months, I have successfully taken a shower, and not cut myself. I have broken the cycle for the day. And, tomorrow, my goal is to do the same. but stronger. And with less difficulty. And the day after, and the day after that.

Habits are not broken in one day. They are dismantled piece by piece; one day at a time.

Sincerely,
Me.

May 16, 2013

And Here We Go Again...

Why do I have this super strong feeling that this ISN'T going to work out with you? Like...c'mon. Please? That's not fair. I've given up everything about me to you. I am completely vulnerable...and you're just gonna leave me here. That's not fair. But then again, nothing ever really changes. Since we call it the circle of life, and circles have no end. These patterns, bad habits, and addictions can never really end. So my questions is. What's the point of running the same lap over and over again?

May 15, 2013

Geez.

Hey guys. So...just deal with this post. Because...I had a rough day. And no one cares to listen, nor they care about how I feel. So, I have resorted to blogging. Whether you read the rest or not, I don't care. I just need to write about it. Okay? Thanks.


So...I have this disease thing in both my knees. I've mentioned it before, I just don't remember what post it was. Anyways, I was REALLY sore this morning. Took me a while to get out of bed. I got up, got dressed. Went down stairs to take my meds. The usual procedure. Well, I get down stairs, and it's only 5:45. My mom and leave at 6. She starts yelling at me because apparently I was making her late. 


Okay? I was really confused. 

First and second block were okay. Advisory was alright, too. Math (my third block, with the D-Bag teacher), that wasn't that bad. My friend, we'll call her Mo, her boyfriend was being a dick so she was upset, which made me upset. But it was okay other than that. Got some bull s^$% packets that are usually extra credit for the test, but apparently they are mandatory. Well, I now have no life until after final exams on June 12th. So, after school, I go to the library with Mo to do the math packets we got.


Not five minutes after we sit down in the library, the fire alarm goes off. But, guess what. NO FREAKING FIRE. We get out at 2:45. Mo and I were in the library at 2:50 (I signed in to use a computer to check my grades). The alarm goes off, we get our stuff and go outside. Five minutes later we hear the last bell go off (it goes off at 3:05). WHAT DUMBASS PULLS THE FREAKING FIRE ALARM 15 MINUTES AFTER SCHOOL GETS OUT?! Gosh. So. Freaking. Stupid.

Then, I stand out side the front doors by myself at 4 waiting for my mom to pick me up. My friend, let's call him Q, rides by on his bike and we start talking. Then, 20 minutes later, my mom drives up in her bus (yes, she drives a bus), and he leaves, I get on the bus, and she starts interrogating me about Q. Like..can I not have friend? No? Oh, okay.

We are going along, and she starts questioning my Bio grade. She tells me that she is going to take away my chemistry class next year if I don't start getting a better grade. I have A's/B's. But you're gonna take my chemistry class? Funny though, because in order to graduate I have to have 3 Science credits. I am passing Bio. Why would you take something that isn't yours to take, first off, and that you can't really take anyways because it's the law that I have to take this class in order to graduate. Tells me I am disappointing and apparently I'm not applying myself. Geez. Thanks mom. 

Then, she tells me I can't have my headphones out or on when she's around because I can't hear her when she talks (even though she hadn't said a word while I was wearing them). Complete bull. We get in the car and she starts giving me crap about school and my music. The worst part was when she said "Why are YOU pissed at ME? I didn't do anything! You're the one that did something wrong, and now you're pissy with me because I said something about it." No, mom. I'm not mad. I am trying not to cry because I am never good enough for you. Ever. Since the day I was freaking born I've always been a failure to you. I am SICK and TIRED of being treated like shit because you have problems. 

Peace Out.






May 14, 2013

Wow. Unbelievable.

I go to have a normal conversation with Metal (remember him from the first post)? And he can't have a serious talk. I really needed to talk with him about some stuff and he is just like....."*thumbs up* oh and it says I like everything with a stupid thumbs up". Like...c'mon man. Seriously?
Ugh. It's short, I know. Just word vomiting right now.

That Moment When You Realize....

Sup guys. Again, I don't mean anything to offend anyone. If you've read my blog before, you can just skip this first little part right here. I vent a lot. Especially on here. Why? Because writing helps get all the s#!* out. I have a bad habit of doing stupid stuff as an alternative, but I am learning. So shove it. Warning: I have no filter. You've been warned. Continue reading at your own risk. 

So, I have crap knees. There's literally next to nothing except a thin strip on muscle holding my knee cap to my femur, and another very thin strip of muscle holding my knee cap to my tibia. In both legs. I was crying last night because I was in so much pain, and I woke up two or three times this morning, again in tears, because of the pain. So my mother decides to pretend to be nice for once, and call my orthopedic surgeon and schedule and MRI for ONE KNEE (even though BOTH are giving me enormous problems), for the 24th of this month. Then...she decides I don't exist anymore, and she starts complaining and freaking out about my sisters health issues. Which is understandable. I am also terribly concerned and scared for my little sister. Yet that does not give my mother the right to just...make me disappear like I was never born. 

She walks into my room (which i "share" with my sister) and says that I can't go to Youth Group tomorrow because my room isn't clean. WHO THE HECK CARES?! NO ONE. Question: how often do you clean your room? How messy is it before you decide to clean it
? is your "messy" different than your parent/guardians "messy"? 


4 or 5 articles of clothing on the floor and my bed not being made is messy to me. To her, it's like the devil came in and decided my room was going to be his toilet. and he just "went" all over the place in my room. Yeah. BIG difference there. 

Then, she starts saying how I am this disappointment because I didn't clean my room. What am I supposed to say to that? "I'm so sorry, mom. I'll force myself to walk around and clean and sanitize my entire room, for no reason. Oh, and because I am a disappointment, I'll call the hazardous material squad to have them come and double check for dust particles in the air. I hope you'll love me again. Night." 

NOOOOOO! LIKE WHAT THE HECK?! SERIOUSLY? COME. ON! This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. You would all understand if you lived with her. 

And then, I realized something after she left. I realized, in that brief moment, that because of her and how she's treated me, that I will never be good enough, for anyone. Because she will always continue to trash talk me, and call me fat, and just be rude and miserable towards me because of her own insecurities. And then, when I am taking care of her because of the good person I am (even though she hates me), I'll never be able to convince a man that I am worth loving because of all the crap she says about. 

I am busting my butt in my bio class. I can't make up classwork, (even if I had an EXCUSED ABSENCE) because my bio teacher says so. So therefore when I miss class time, I can't do the lab write ups because I wasn't there to do the lab. Therefore I get a 0 on every class work that I miss, and every write up that goes with it. And I tried explaining this to her, and she says "I don't care. Bring it up." But she doesn't notice my 77 in math (go read the post titled Math Go Solve Your Own Problems and you'll understand this), she doesn't notice my 87.64 in English, she completely ignores my 84 in Drivers Ed. Like...that's cool. You want to tear me down because I was sick and missed class and now have to ace every test and my final exam just to make it around a B- for a final grade? That's cool. You can be that guy. Whatever. 

So done with this bull. Ugh. 

Peace out. 

May 13, 2013

Seriously, Dude?

Okay. This is a quick one.
So my mom like..half (fake) adopted this kid because he is a pyromaniac and is mentally unstable and is obsessed with death and horror movies/stories. So...he plans to go to this T-Ball game with my mom, her boyfriend, and my sister...and I chose to stay home. And now all of a sudden my six year old sister wants to stay home too. Sure. Why not?

BUT OH MY GOSH. THIS KID WILL NOT STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY PATH OF TRAVEL. If I go somewhere, he wants to go. If I stay home, he wants to stay home. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ASS AND POP OFF THE D BRO.

Gosh. Sorry. Had to get it out. Now I am stuck with it. Ugh. Whatever.
Peace out.

Beijos

So, if you want to call me a whore, or a slut, or some other vulgar disrespectful name, go for it. Just know that this is MY blog, and MY thoughts. And those are the ONLY ones that matter. Meaning YOUR opinions about MY life do NOT matter nor do the effect me. SO....on with the post.

Beijos means "kisses" in Portuguese. My dad is teaching me some things in Portuguese because he is from Brazil. And for my 18th birthday, we are flying to Brazil to see Carnival in Rio. That's really not what this post is about. Beijos is what this post is about.

For those of who remember your first kiss, what was it like? Beautiful? Horrifying? Socially awkward? Well, whatever it was, it probably wasn't the kind of first kiss everyone dreams of.

For those of you who haven't had your first kiss yet (believe me, it's not all it's cracked up to be), what do you want it to be like? Do you have a specific person you want it to be with? 


So, mine was...boring. Lame. Horrible. And quite frankly, I ended up hating the person it was with. So mine sucked. To all of you out there who had a sucky first kiss, this one's for you:


Yeah. That's right. Shove it other people (kidding. Don't shove it.).
Wow.....that last part (in parenthesis) sounded REALLY wrong. ^^ yeah. Oops. Oh well. Anyways.

People with poopy first kisses: Olympia
People with good first kisses : You guys. 

Okay. This is a typical Olympia first kiss. This is what we mean by a "sucky first kiss"



Yes. I use a lot of memes I find on the internet on my blog. NONE OF THEM ARE MINE. Just so you know.


And then there's You guys...who are all like....:



(that's some kind of blow up dog or something, I don't know; just don't ask.) 

So...yeah. I've heard that your first kiss is the complete opposite of the kiss you get at the altar. So......I'm safe. I don't know about You guys. <3 

May 12, 2013

Mothers Day

Happy Mothers Day!
Just figured I would get that out of the way before I continue with the rest of the blog post.

So, yes. I have a mother. But I don't really plan on making this post about mothers day. So...as some of you know, I don't much of a relationship with my mom. And what little I do have, is not that great. But, sap story aside, there's a difference between being a mother, and a MOM.

A mother conceives the child,carries he/she for 10 months (yes, it's technically 10), and then delivers the child into the world. 

A Mom, she doesn't have to do all of that. If she does, cool. If not, she can still be a Mom. A mom loves you regardless of the circumstances. She stands behind you and supports you through every decision. She changes your diapers. She catches you when you fall after your first steps. She tells her boss to shove it when your sick and need someone to take care of you. She is the first one to school when you have a recital or a play. She volunteers to chaperon your field trips to museums and apple orchards. She helps you make a mess in the kitchen and cleans it just so you can get an A on your science fair project. She walks the halls with you on freshman orientation. She goes to every sports game, both home and away. She runs the concession stand. She helps run fundraisers for your graduation class. She sits in a meeting to help plan your prom. She takes the center, front row chair just so she can get a picture of every step you take across the stage when you graduate. She helps you pack in the fall for college. She drives you to the air port. She visits you at the college YOU chose. She helps you decorate your dorm every year.  She does the dougie at your wedding with you. She's there when your first, second, and third child is born. She's there in your heart after she passes. She's your mom. 

My mother, is not my "mom". She takes care of me, and probably does love me on some level. But the way she grew up, and the way we had to live for a while, she kind of left me to fend for myself. Which isn't much of a big deal. But now, she just knocks me down every day. Continuously. Unconsciously. That is not a mom. 

But don't take pity, wonderful readers. Because I do have a Mom. Actually, I have many Moms. I have many brothers, and many sisters. Lori, she's probably my Mom. The first one I call Mom. I can't explain how much I love this woman and here husband, Jack. They are my real Mom and Dad. The one's I should have been born to. 

Then there's Barbra P. This woman is amazing. Her oldest son is my best friend. Her kids are my brother and sister. This morning was particularly rough, because I had a mental break down in the middle of church. I ran to Lori, naturally. And behind was Barb. Barb just rubbed my hair, and loved on me. These two women are ALWAYS there for me. Always. With out them, I would not be alive right now. 

Miss Strong. She gives me hope that this world does still have a few good, genuine, loving people in it. She always talks to me. Every day. She cares for me, and is another one of my many Moms. I can't describe you the things this woman does for me, but she is a miracle. And she is my example of how to love people even when they don't give a flying crap about you. She does this daily. She is an example to all of her students. And for their sake, I wish they'd realize it sooner.

Miss Robyn. I have known her for 8 years out of my life. She has helped me through things you cannot imagine. She is my light house on solid ground when I'm lost at sea. She just...she's always been there. When I've lost loved ones; when I started cutting; when everything in my life goes down hill in an uncontrollable spiral, she's there with reigns of steel and love to put it all back together.

Miss V. My English teacher. She has taught me so many things, that I wish I could some how repay her. She has given me the tools to express myself, and she's listened to me intently when no one else would take a second glance in my direction. She is one of the elite. She is one of a kind.

Mom's are the best. Especially all of mine. 
But then there's my friends. That I wouldn't trade for the world. We talked about dying for someone we loved the other night at Youth Group. I would die for any and all of these people.

Caton has walked every step of this unpredictable adventure with me. We didn't start it together, but we met up along the way somewhere. We helped each other up, and kept going together. Knowing that in life, you can't go backwards, we knew we had to keep going. And thank God I had her to be by my side because with out her I would have gone insane. 

Nick is my best friend. We sit and talk together in the morning at school every single day. We are pretty much the only students there at 6:30 in the morning. We have breakfast together every day, and we talk about life. It's nice to have someone there all the time. I love this kid with everything I have. He's my best friend. Today was rough, and he was the first person there to ask me if I was okay. I can't say enough about this kid. And ANYONE who decides that they are going to give him $*#!, is going to get there @*& kicked. Nick means the world to me, and he was like a mom to me, I'd tell him Happy Mom's Day. But that'd be weird if he was like a mom...0.0

Marquez is a cool kid. He's a good friend. And like Nick, he's always there. Anything I need to talk about, he's right there to listen with a good hug and open ears. Always there to check on me when I run off to hide, always there to make me laugh when I am upset. 

Anna. Gosh. I can't begin to describe the love I have for this girl. She was my first REAL friend. She showed me what it means to HAVE FUN, and be myself. Whenever we hang out, I can GUARANTEE that one of us will do something so stupid, that the other laughs hard enough to pee themselves (it's happened before). 

Tameka is the best person I could have ever met. We have no boundaries or secrets with each other. Things other people would find extremely socially awkward, are completely normal to us. We've cried in front of each other, spit out blue lollipop slime and orange soda on the floor and the counters. Just....she's my best friend. I couldn't ask for a better friend. 

Then there's JT. He's one of my many ginger friends. One time, we were at a football game hanging out. And I had this like..brand new roll of blue duck tape (I know it's not spelt that way). And I had him hold onto it because I didn't have pockets. I forgot he had it when I left the game (which was in November). So, he's had it for 6 months. He always makes me laugh. Never fails to lighten my mood or make my day brighter no matter how crummy it is. Just....the greatest person I have ever met.

Alex and Angel are my knights in shining armor. Angel offered me to live with her and her family until she moves to Virginia with her sister. Alex is always there to talk things out with me, and helps me think through things. I cannot thank them enough for being there for me every time I needed someone. They are my favorite people in the world. No one could ever replace them.

Okay. I am done talking about all the people I love now. Okay. Bye.


May 9, 2013

Memoir Part 3 (last piece)


Thanks A Lot

A few days before Christmas my mom told me that she wished she had given me up for adoption, and that she should’ve gotten rid of me when she had the chance. She said that the last 15 years of her life had been a waste of time. I was so hurt, angry, and upset.. I looked her dead in the eyes. My face was as empty as a bottomless pit, and I told her “I wished you had.” And then she kicked me out of the house for four days, and made me come back on Christmas.. That was the night I felt good when I cut. I put the razor to my leg five or six times in the same spot. I was so mad and hurt and I was crying that when I didn’t see any blood, I couldn’t feel the sting. I lost all control. after that.

It’s an addiction. Like drugs, or alcohol. Just like any other addiction. It’s because it feels good. When you blow up a balloon, all of the hot air rushes in and expands the outside of the balloon. It stretches and pushes against it. It puts stress on the balloon.. And when you pop it, and break the outside of it, the hot air is released. The stress is gone. And when I cut myself, my balloon pops.. The stress is gone. It just rushes out of my body. And I feel better for a little while.

My mom still doesn't know about half of this. She doesn’t know about my blog, she doesn’t know about me or Caton cutting. She doesn’t know about any of it.. And if I did tell her, or she found out, my memoir would end here. I would not be able to write another one, or ever see the light of day. When my mother tells me she hates me, or that she doesn’t like me, it die a little more inside.

Ever since that first summer, when I came back, I was changed. Inevitably. A person cannot endure something so profound and horrific and emerge half the same as they were before. To me, at the end of the day, I’m not me. I’m not who you think I am. I am not a person. I am just sitting here. Waiting for someone to take this exhausted, beaten, broken body, and give it life. Inside this shell, there’s
nothing but a hole. A hole that can never be filled. The story continues, as it always does. :Like they say in the theater, ‘the show must go on.”

Fin.

Memoir Part 2


The Valley Summer

There are three things I love the most: spending time with my friends, volunteering with my friends, and listening to music with my friends. And every summer, I get to do the first two. I volunteer as a soccer coach for young students in Northfield for a week in June. It’s called UpWard Soccer Camp (they also host other sports camps). I also volunteer every summer to be a mentor at my church’s VBS (vacation bible school). It’s also a week long, but it’s fun and I get to help younger kids learn about God and that they are never alone. I participate in Youth Explosion (like VBS, but geared for high school students. Then, I went to SoulFest during this past summer. This is kind of where everything really hit rock bottom. I had been depressed for most of my life, but always just kind of brushed it under the rug. My mom and I don’t have the best relationship. In fact, it’s deteriorating as we speak. When I was born, neither of my parents wanted me. My dad was a strung out crack addict, and he left when he found out my mom was pregnant. My mom was also a drug addict and an alcoholic And my mom set up an adoption for me.

The adoption fell through, but my mom REALLY didn’t want to keep me. So, the family she was going to give me to (a nice Christian family in Texas), they said they would take me even though they had received another child. But. my mother had decided, for whatever reason, to be my mother.

Well, this particular summer, we had a huge falling out, me and my mother. I wanted to go to this music festival called SOulFest. It’s this huge Christian music festival in New Hampshire at Gunstock Mountain Resort. It was beautiful. I met a lot of really nice people. But...the people I went with, weren’t very nice. I ended up alone every, single day. I was sick. At this point, I knew nothing about my health conditions, and how sick I was. I had two appendicitis scares in the same day, and my mother refused to come get me. I was alone in the middle of thousands of people, and no one could see me. Nor did they care to look.

I didn’t know that I was depressed. I didn’t know what depression was. I didn’t think that I could have it. Or that I could ever become depressed. I had friends. I had a mom. I had a sister. I had no idea how seriously MESSED up my life was going to get. Or just how far I had let myself fall. I walked around for hours. I don’t know what time it was, but I had decided to walk into the lake and stand there until I got hypothermia. And if I didn’t, I would drown myself. I was in tears. I had no idea what was going on. I wanted to be in control of my body, of my emotions. But I couldn’t.. That night was the worst night of my life. I will never forget that night.

When I came home a day later, I was mute. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I couldn’t think about anything. I didn’t want to be around anyone. I started to lock myself in my room for days. I stopped eating. I drank nothing but water. I just...shut down. I had regressed to a state of subsistence. Eating and drinking just enough to keep my body functioning. I had shut down completely. Nothing mattered.

Commercial Break

So, I don’t like keeping things serious all the time. And at this point in my life....I could find no happiness. So, I want to write a little funny story right here. Because I just spilt half of my life story out on the table for you ladies and gents, and before I go and spill the rest of my intestines and other bodily organs, I learned something after all of this was over. I learned that the song by Ne-o Miss Independant, had a very true meaning behind it. Even though it’s about this stupid thing called love, and being happy, and all mushy-gushy gross PDA stuff, the part about the woman being independant, and not really needing anyone else, that part
is really the meat of my memoir. I learned how to stand on my own. Like, in all honestly, I can barely stand on my own two feet and not fall and get hurt (physically). I am such a clutz. I own eight pairs of crutches. It’s like one of those Disney Channel things where they make a commercial about these kids who collect things. Mine would probably sound like this:
“Hi, my name is Cheyenne, and I collect emergency room crutches.
I started collecting them when I was in the fourth grade. I got my first pair when I fell down a hill, shattered a growth plate in my foot, and then walked on it for a few weeks. I don’t really like or dislike collecting crutches, I just kind of keep them.. My most recent pair that I acquired was from a knee injury during my lacrosse season. I’m Cheyenne, and you’re watching Disney Channel.”
Yeah. I have no life. So BACK TO THE SHOW, FOLKS!

Back to School....What?
School started back up in the fall (as always). And I was still really quiet. I started talking to my friends again, but I have never been the same since that summer. I don’t know how, or when, or why we became friends, but my friend Caton and I got REALLY close this year. Now (as a sophomore) I was finally “cool”. I wasn’t fresh meat anymore. I had a place; or so I thought. I had found out a few months into school that my childhood best friend and cousin, Jj, had overdosed, and they didn’t know if he was going to make it. My mom never sits down and talks with me privately unless someone has died, something really bad has happened, or she is blaming me for something that is going wrong in her life. So when she sat me down after school this day, I knew something was up. She just looked at me. She looked at
me and stared at me, but she didn’t say a word. She started crying. And I was really scared. She just looked at me and said, “Jj overdosed, and they don’t think he is going to make it.” I was in shock.

Have you ever lost your best friend? They (or you) moved away, you guys stopped talking, or maybe they were in a different grade and one of  you moved on early. Well, focus on that feeling. How sad you were and how lost you felt. Like someone had just cut off your arm, right? Well, for me? I had died, too. I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t go visit him; I couldn’t call him or talk to him; the only person who could tell me what was going on was his mom (my aunt), and even she didn’t have time to text me what was going on. I was so scared. Everyday I wondered if I would come home and my mom would tell me that he had died. Living in that kind of fear and wonder every day changes you. It changes the way you look at the world, and the way you act around other people. SOmething in you just clicks into place, and all of sudden every message about suicide, every campaign to end bullying, every post on Facebook, Twitter, and TUmblr about self-harm and eating disorders: all of that becomes real. And all you want to do, is make sure that no one ever has to go through what you did. You become this other person. This person whose sole goal in life is to make sure that no one has to watch their loved ones sit there and hurt and slowly die and waste away inside, KNOWING that there is absolutely NOTHING you can do about it. That is one of the most extreme changes a person can go through.
I remember sitting with Caton telling her about how when Jj and I would play Spider-Man when we were little. I describe to her him jumping off of my dresser and running to my bed to cut the pretend ropes off my wrists, and beat up the Green
Goblin and save the day. Caton and I laughed so much that day. After that, I realized that I had found my best friend. My sister. My other half. The one person who would stick by me and do what she could to keep me safe, and that I would give my life for her. We were and still are inseparable.
To this day, Caton and I talk about everything. SO when she told me around Christmas that she was “a cutter”, I was lost again. The candlelight in my big dark room had been blown out once again. When she told me this, I came clean, too. I told her how when I tried to commit suicide this summer, even though I lived physically, I died emotionally, and mentally. I had started cutting, too. And to be completely honest, I still do sometimes. We promised each other that we would do whatever it took to stop. And we did for a while. But when her sister moved out and her mom started yelling at her for no reason, and being really mean and rude, she started cutting again.
My mom, every day I would come home, and she would tell me that my belly was big, or that I was gaining a lot of weight, or that I needed to stop eating. Sometimes she would even go as far to come right out and call me fat. I hurt. I hurt so much, that I became mute again. I decided that I wasn’t going to eat ever again, and that by this next summer I would have a beautiful flat stomach, toned arms and legs, and I would get a light tan. SO when I come back to school for my Junior year of highschool, I would be pretty like the rest of the girls at school.
I stopped eating. I started making myself throw up. I did whatever I could to eat less, lose weight, and be prettier. But inside, I just kept hurting. I kept hurting more and more. And I didn’t lose any weight. In fact, I gained weight. My mom noticed that I had “cut down” on my eating, but still commented on my weight gain.
SO I went to my doctor. He had be do a blood test, and he ran a few other tests as well, and he told me I had Raynaud's Disease. It’s a rare blood disease in the U.S. (it’s more common in the UK and Europe), where your blood will clot in your appendages (like your fingers and toes) and your hands turn blood from the lack of circulation, and then white from the lack of oxygen. And when the attack is over, they turn bright red from the blood rushing back into the appendages.
A few weeks later, my doctor called back and said it wasn’t Raynaud’. It was hypothyroidism. My thyroid was not working properly, and my metabolism had slowed down to almost a dead stop. My hair was falling out by the handfuls, and I was showing signs of serious depression (no kidding, right?). And so I started taking a medicine for it. I only took this medicine for about a month. And within that month, I went from around 18o pounds to 140 pounds. I went to go see a pediatrician who supposedly was very experienced in this field. And he told me I had depression, and that I should get a counselor and see what they think. And he dismissed it. Oh, and I mention that he had me stop my meds COMPLETELY? Like, cold turkey? Yeah. Well, now my thyroid is back to almost a dead stop. And I am even more depressed. I am now on an antidepressant, an acid reducer (for my stomach from throwing up all the time), and have it written on my medical history and notices/allergies that I cannot, under any circumstances, take and anti-inflammatory because of my stomach issues.
I have a lot to get off my chest, so I am sorry if this is really long. and boring. But I need to.