"Lullabies Fill Our Eyes"

Apologies are hard. If it were possible--and remotely feasible--I would swear off doing anything and everything that would cause me to need to apologize to someone because it is so emotionally hard on me. In the world called reality, however, that isn't possible; which means I get to look forward to more apologies and more crying, and we've already established my distaste for that activity.

I've made two fairly large apologies within the past few days. One was a repeat apology that I felt needed to be made now that I had a better understanding of the aftermath of my actions. Note to self: listen to the little voice in my head saying "That's a dumb idea, don't do it." It's much smarter than I give it credit for.

I also apologized to my program director for not giving the 100% I should have been over the past two years. Many other things were said that I'm not getting into again because I just barely stopped crying and have a headache. I'd prefer not to make it too much worse.

The biggest thing I've done the past few days wasn't an apology as such. I stood up and voiced my opinion and worries to my closest friend here, something I had been debating for weeks. She was beginning to get into a situation which was causing a lot of gossip around town which could have proven to be really bad for her, and it was beginning to remind me of a situation I'd been in earlier in the year. A situation where I didn't try to voice my misgivings and talk my friend out of her actions, encouraging her instead because I knew that's what she wanted me to do. It's something I've regretted for months, still regret even though I apologized for it, but she's the type of person who will just blow off that type of apology because she doesn't think it's relevant or necessary. I happen to disagree, but whatever.

This time, I decided I wasn't going to do the same thing twice. I was going to be the better friend and do what I could to help my friend stay out of trouble. And I'm so glad I did. I'd be glad even if this friend hadn't listened to me and understood what I was saying. Because I learned from my mistake and I voiced my opinion. More than that, I had an opinion.

Slightly bigger than baby steps now, but I'm still going in the right direction.

"How Much She Blamed Herself"

By this point, it's fairly obvious that I have issues which I have been struggling with for years. Family issues, relationship issues, cutting issues, friend issues...emotional wreck issues. You get the idea.

Every time I get on here, I write a new post about my life and my problems, etc etc. I have the tendency to go back and forth on things, to be doing really well in one aspect of my life...until something else happens and then it all comes crashing down and I have to start all over. Which is neither fun nor particularly easy. After I have my regularly scheduled regression into issues which had been over and done with, I tell myself "Yes, you screwed up, but you're going to work even harder against that this time."

It's taken me awhile to really realize and accept one part of me, to see that what I'm doing isn't good for me and it's only making everything else harder. It's not my sexuality. It's not my cutting. It's not my exhausting family or emotional stunting due to my exes.

It's my shame.

If I were to describe everything that has happened to me, I would somehow eventually lead it all back to it being my fault somehow, even when it wasn't. I blame myself for being weak, for not standing up for myself, for letting people use me. I've always blamed myself for what went on at home, for not being stronger and keeping everything inside.

Twice this week I met with missionaries from my church and I opened up to them, to total strangers. Cried my eyes out like a baby; they're started to carry tissues just for when they meet with me because they know I will cry. And I do. But I realized that the only way I am going to get better and be the person I so desperately need to is by working through everything and coming to an understanding with myself and with God.

Today, I finally understood that I do more than just blame myself for these things: I hold onto them and I refuse to forgive myself, especially for the things that really were my fault. I haven't forgiven myself for letting myself mark and scar my skin in order to feel as though I was in control. I haven't forgiven myself for allowing an event that I don't even remember to dictate how I viewed my body and my self-esteem or for furthering my loss of self by being with guys who didn't make me feel good about myself. And I especially haven't forgiven myself for not standing up to my dad and stopping what was going on at home until it got out of hand.

But, I think, I can work towards that, towards forgiving myself. I need to. There's a lot of anger and shame and self-doubt that I have to let go of, and I know it's going to be hard. There are going to be so many more tears, and I'm still not going to enjoy crying and the emotional upheaval and headache that always comes with it--not to mention I always snot myself to death when I cry, and I almost always end up crying in front of other people. Letting go of all the negativity and breaking down the walls I put up is going to hurt like hell.

But I also know it's worth it, and I can do it.

After practically fifteen years of this, I'm finally ready to let go and stop blaming myself.

"But It's All Getting Old"

I don't care how many scientists claim that crying is good for you and helps release pent up emotions...it's not fun. Personally, I get no joy from crying. It's almost painful, especially when I start crying and know I can't control it, which means I have to leave the room and walk past girls I see on a fairly regular basis. More emotions on top of the already fragile state that is me. Add to that the knowledge that every single girl in that room with me (totalling maybe 20) knew I left because the subject we were discussing was directly related to me and that I was crying.

I hate crying.

My mental and emotional breakdowns never occur when I'd like them to, they're conveniently inconvenient almost 100% of the time. And once I get started, it's very hard for me to stop. Floodgates have dropped and are locked in place until I get at least half of it out; but even the slightest thing could set me off again. Which means that the girls who I know were trying to make me feel better by hugging me after the meeting only served to nearly make me cry again. Honestly, I wish they'd just let me eat my brownie in peace. Brownies are good. They help me. Although hot chocolate would be even better.

Note to self: keep hot chocolate in stock all year.

Since I got back from my meeting about...10 minutes ago, I've been debating whether or not to call one of my friends and ask a favor: namely, her babysitting me for a bit so I don't start crying again. This particular friend knows a fair amount, she never asked for details and I never offered, but she understands enough. Right now, she's the only one I can go to physically. My roommate is busy taking care of her boyfriend, and my best friend is in Florida. Worse and worse options.

Being who I am, however, means that I won't call this friend and ask her to come watch something silly with me (most likely Beauty and the Beast because it's her favorite and we have it) and bring her ice cream. Instead, I will sit on the couch, eat a really big cinnamon roll with a glass of milk (sadly, it doesn't do quite the thing hot chocolate does for me but oh well), and find something online that hopefully won't make me cry.

Lovely.

"Feel a Little Bit Brave"

Last night, I made a big step. Big for me, at least. For other people, it probably wouldn't be that big a deal. I mean, all I did was voice my opinion to my mother. Easy, right?

Not for me.

Ever since I was little, I knew that I should keep a lot--if not all--of my opinions to myself when it came to my dad; it was easier that way because I wouldn't be disagreeing with him, even if I actually did disagree. My mom has always been another story.

She's much more easy going than my dad is, and she lived by that same rule when it came to my dad. Most of the time. When she didn't, they would fight. Or rather, dad would yell and mom would try to voice her opinions without making it too much worse. Usually, she wasn't that successful.

I love both my parents, but I have always gotten along better with my mom because of this. Which also meant that I was really hesitant about disappointing her. Let's face it, life is easier when you're on good terms with your parents. So, I tried really hard not to argue with her, to keep my differing opinions to myself and go with whatever flow she happened to be on. And some days, that sucked because I really didn't agree with what she was saying. But I was the good daughter and didn't argue or disagree...to her face.

All summer, my mom has really been pushing the idea of having my own small business so I could be self-sufficient and not depend on her or someone else to support me. In theory, it's great; I like money, it's fairly important in this world. So, I put on my interested face, went to meetings, talked up products, wheedled and bullied friends to get on calls that I honestly didn't care about...and it was exhausting. The only part I liked was the products I got out of it because they were helping me be healthier, and I tend to have issues trying to be a healthy college student.

This is why last night was such a big deal. Mom had been reminding me that there was a conference call for the new business (called 360) and said I needed to get on it.

I didn't.

When she sent me a text asking what I thought, I stared at my phone for a good five or ten minutes trying to come up with an "excuse" for why I didn't get on the call before I decided to bite the bullet and be entirely honest with my mom, possibly for the first time in the past six years. I told her that quite honestly, I didn't care about the business end. I liked the products, I would use the products, but the rest of it just wasn't me. And last night, I went to bed slightly worried because she hadn't answered.

This morning, all she said was she was thankful for my honesty and that she just wants me to be able to take care of myself.

So yeah, maybe saying "Hey, I don't want to do this" isn't a big deal for most people. But I feel good about it.

"Just a Gust of Wind"

My family was in town the past few days. Came up to bring my brother to school. I had friends who kept checking on me to make sure I was okay, one of them even called witha fake fried-emergency in case I needed a break from family drama. I didn't, but that's okay.

What is messing with my head the most right now is...my roommate actually liked my dad. None of my friends who have met my dad after I have told them what went on at my houseb actually liked him. They couldn't get past what I told them and my feelings about him. But my roommate thought he was a nice guy who really does care about his family, just doesn't know what to do to take care of them. And I know she's right, but I'm struggling to see that in everything I've been through.

On top of that, I was fixing some stuff on my brother's Facebook and was looking for miscellaneous family members to send requests to when I saw one of my brothers. Specifically, Ben: the brother my family has ignored the existance of since I was three. And it scared me. It scared me to have a visual reminder that he's not in jail. It scared me to see that one of my sisters has accepted him enough to have him on her Facebook. And it scared me that he could easily find my brother and get in touch with him because the only ones who know the full story are my parents and I. And probably my grandparents.

Between having my dad around for two days and then seeing Ben on Facebook, I can't help but look at who I used to be, before all of this happened and I spiralled downward into depression and self-deprecation. All the things that happened because I let situations control me and my life.

I'm not sure which part scares me more.

"Rather Hurt Than Feel Nothing At All"

Apparently, since I am me and I am where I am at this point in my life, feeling any emotion at all is good, even if it's acute frustration because people just don't get it. And by it, I mean me.

Now, I realize that "getting me" is a fairly tall order; I'm not stupid, I know that there are very few people in the world who are even capable of a basic understanding of how my brain works. That being said, I really wish that certain people would use whatever common sense God gave them and realize that, just because I said that I'm having a bad week, does not mean I want to talk about it.

In fact, let me just put this all out here for the world to see and--hopefully--get through its thick head.

When I blog, everything I put in here is put here because I don't want to talk about it. In some cases, I don't want to talk about anything. Not me, not my problems, not your problems, not politics (okay, I never want to talk about politics), not the drama of what's-her-face and her boyfriend and the huge fight they had in the middle of the quad...

Some days, I don't want to talk. And I find that to be perfectly acceptable because I'm not bottling it up inside. I'm putting it all in my blog, where it belongs. Because I'm coping. That's the whole point of this venture, me documenting the ups and downs of my life while I try to put all the annoying jigsaw puzzle pieces back together so it actually looks like my life instead of a huge broken mess.

While I'm still fairly frustrated, I'd also like to point out one other thing: people need to realize they are not super heroes. I know that the big movie craze right now is all about ordinary people suddenly realizing they have the power to right the world's wrongs and make everything better, but let's be honest here: in reality, that doesn't happen. It sucks, but it's true. You can't help everyone. Sometimes, there isn't anything TO help. Like, oh, say ME, for instance.

My problems are just that, my problems. I'm not saying that I can't be helped, but I am saying that there are times when other people can't help. Sadly, I have two friends who have what I have deemed as "Superman-Syndrome"; if I try to tell them what's going on, they immediately start asking how they can help. And yes, I know that is incredibly nice, and I'm so lucky to have friends who want to help, but that's not the point here. The point is that you can't solve the world's problems, and you really can't solve mine. Less sadly, one of my friends has realized that she can't solve all my problems for me, at least not the big ones. So, for now, she's just trying to help me figure out how I can get some sleep.

The other one....him I kinda really want to strangle.

Well, now that I've said at least three times as much as I was planning on saying when I started, I'm gonna get to work on that sleep thing.

"For a Walking Corpse Like Me"

Lately, I've caught myself falling back into the same old place I always let myself end up when my life starts coming together; I've avoided really talking about it with anyone for the whole week. The only reason my housemate even knows is because she lives with me and it's a little hard to hide the fact that I haven't left the apartment since church on Sunday from her. Not that she's really here often enough to notice. But that's beside the point.

I stopped caring again. Not about everything, I still care about my brother and everything going on with him; I still care about my friends and the drama in their lives; I even care--probably too much--about the characters in my favorite books and shows. But I stopped caring about me. All week, I've had issues getting to sleep: I'd go to bed around 12 or 1 am, stare at the wall or the ceiling for an hour, read something on my computer for another hour, try to sleep again, and consider myself lucky if I was passed out by 4am. This meant that I probably didn't get up until 11am or later.

There were times, especially in the past 24hours, where I really wished that I could just walk outside, hit up a 99cent store, buy a bunch of crap I don't need, and tell all my friends to deal with it because I was coping. And maybe I could have. But I didn't. Instead, I sat on my couch and ignored texts from a friend of mine because I knew I'd end up telling him everything without really thinking about it. And then people would worry. And I hate when people worry about me. I don't see the point.

What I find to be the weirdest part of this whole week of self-deprecation is the lack of logical emotion I've been able to show. My friends tell me that such-and-such is happening in their lives, and I'm concerned or angry or what have you....but I'm also bored. Within minutes of the conversation starting, I'm bored with the whole thing. Yes, I'm aware that this is probably not normal.

The only other sign of basic emotion I've shown, besides near-psychotic giggling over TV show situations, has happened at night while I attempt to reach something even slightly akin to sleep. I lay in my bed, I start relaxing my body bit by bit, I picture my happy place where it's calm and pretty and peaceful and all I hear are wind chimes, I hold the stuffed cat I've had since I was born, and...I cry.

Yep, I cry. Last night I was sobbing. And you want to know why? What on this earth finally made me show some sign of real life?

That stuffed cat.

Mmhmm. I hold Kitty to my chest, just under my chin, and I try to remember the song that she used to play when I was little and I'd push the button in her paw because I was upset... But I can't remember how the song goes.

So I cried.

And I didn't tell anyone what was going on.

Because I don't know if I want them to care.

Because I don't.

"There's Gonna Be Some Ups and Downs"

If I were to be truthfully honest--which I do try to be when I blog because I don't actually expect anyone to really read this, and it's more for me than anyone else anyway--I'd have to say that some things in my life just weird me out.

For instance: happy, smiley couples weird me out. Must they be SO happy ALL the time? Do they really need to rub it in the faces of us non-coupley people? Geez...

Mainly, what it weirding me out right now, is the fact that I don't feel weirded out that I'm moderately happy. I'm not overly stressed or worried about anything, I'm not searching my room in vain for something sharp and pointy (I think the best I'd manage would be my keys), and I'm not pining after one of the multiple idiots who used me like a doormat.

Contrary to the opinion of my roommate, who I love very much but occasionally want to smack because she doesn't quite get my point no matter how many times I explain it, I'm not saying my life is perfect. Let's face it, it's not. A lot of it still sucks, and could very likely get worse in a few weeks when my family drives up here. Yeah, let's not focus on that for awhile. Or ever.

I am also not saying I'm completely content with my aspect of the world and how my days go. I'm really not. But I'm also not unhappy with it. I'm not miserable or depressed. I'm not even sitting here waiting on pins and needles for something bad to happen. The worst thing I see in my future we've already touched on enough for one post.

So, I guess you could say I am...not quite happy. Or even content, really. But living? That one is applicable.

"In the Free Fall"

Funk: a dejected mood; depression or ill humor

This past weekend, I've found myself in a huge funk. On the "funk scale", going from 1-10, I've been about an 8. I was reaching very scary levels.

After church yesterday, I went over to see a friend I've really been missing this summer, and she had a letter for me from a friend who is on a mission in Mexico for our church. I didn't pay much attention to it other than enjoying hearing from him, but later that night, while I was doing some major soul searching and attempting to figure out my life, I remembered something he wrote in the letter. He reminded me of the main rule of our friendship: Smile.

I had been asking myself, asking God, how to get myself out of the funk, how to move on with my life, and there it was. Smile.

So that's what I'm going to focus on. I' going to smile. I'm going to breathe. And I'm not going to worry so damn much.

Oh, and maybe working the swearing thing. That could become an issue later. Maybe.

"Life Isn't Made Up of All That She Used To"

I'm somewhat ambivalent about summer right now. For most people, especially those in school, summer is the great escape from the tyranny of homework and teachers. On the other hand, parents probably dislike summer because it means the kids are home all day. Usually, I would subscribe to the first way of thinking, but this summer has been different than most for me.

It has been very nearly 13 months since I decided to let my more well-known ex into my life so he could drive me crazy again, 13 months since I last saw that manipulating liar who made dashing my hopes against rocks into a game lasting close to five years. I'm not bitter, I swear. That's the honest truth of our relationship.

Back to the main point: summer. Usually, I meet all of my exes during the summer, after which we attempt to make a go of the relationship and then realize that it's not working...because I have absolutely awful taste in men, not that they really qualify to be considered men when you think about how they treat women. This summer, however, I have done absolutely nothing. Seriously, I sat at home for two months bored out of my mind--by the way, never a good thing for me because then I start pining after said "not-really-men"--and now I'm at school, still bored out of my mind because my classes fell through, watching my roommate make out with her boyfriend on our couch while alternating between feeling completely nauseous, jealous, and depressed.

The other night, I went to my roommate's room and cried on her shoulder for awhile, completely depressed about how messed up I let my life get and absolutely certain that there was no one in this world ("this world" meaning the community in which I find myself at school) who would be willing to take me and all my baggage. I screwed up royally. I'm a depressed slut with control issues which make their appearance in the form of scratches made by safety pins across my wrists and forearms, on top of my family issues, ex-boyfriend issues, and general life issues.

Coincidentally, my roommate and I also watch a good amount of TV, especially How I Met Your Mother. Now, anyone who reads this will probably think I'm certifiable due to that change in topic, but I promise, it is related. My roommie told me that the right person (yeah, she said "person" not "boy"...she's cool like that with me) wouldn't care about all my baggage. Besides, I'm a totally different person than who I was five plus years ago when I let the circumstances in my life dictate how I was going to react and live. She said she could see the changes in me in the two years she's known me, the first of which was spent with me hating her because she was with one of my exes...long story.

The next day, while she was out with her boyfriend (who is not my ex, if you were wondering), I was watching some episodes of How I Met Your Mother on the DVR and came across one called "Doppelgangers." Towards the end of the episode, Ted had this one line that just hit me like a smack across the face:

“Eventually, over time, we all become our own doppelgangers, you know? These completely different people who just happen to look like us. Five years ago Robin? That girl—she was pretty great. But doppelganger Robin? She’s amazing.”

 Yeah, I pretty much fell off the couch when I heard that. I was basically exactly what my roommate had said the night before, but in different words, and I'm fairly certain she hasn't seen that episode yet, so I was considerably stunned.

Now, I'm going to take a moment to admit to my own nerdiness by saying that, when the mood hits me and I get bored, I watch anime; some of my favorite shows may or may not include The Ouron High School Host Club and Avatar: The Last Airbender. So saying, I started watching the spin off from Avatar, The Legend of Korra.

I got through the whole season in one day.

Today.

Here's the cool part: I had another "smack across the face" moment during the last episode. Past Life Aang came back and said:

“When we hit our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change.”

 Basically, the entire universe--or at least the TV-verse--is telling me to grow up and realize that I am a different person than who I let all those guys turn me into, and I am at a point in my life where I can really start to change and get my life back on track and put myself back together.

And it feels good.

Thank you Universe! And roommate.

"Gather Up Your Tears"

I've always been a highly emotional person, usually at the worst possible times. Which means that, when it's okay for me to be emotional...I got nothing.

Now, add that to the fact that last week two great men from my church died and the first funeral was today, and its reasonable to assume I'd cry a fair bit.

But wait, there's more.

Both of these amazing men were mentors and surrogate fathers to my brother. They understood our situation at home, and they cared enough to be there for him, to be role models and show him that not all families are like ours is. One of these men, whose funeral is this Thursday, was nearly as important to me as he was to my brother; he and his family took us in when we were forced to "run away", for lack of a better term. He took care of us for a week, and supported us even after we went back to our parents.

Because these men were so amazing and important to my brother, and are the first people he's known personally who have died, my brother is an emotional wreck.

I love my brother more than anything, and seeing him in this kind of emotional pain....there are no words.

I am ready to head back to school and concentrate on something besides all of this.

I'm ready to stop crying.

"What Gets Left Over"

I've always been a big lover of irony in all its forms: verbal, situational, dramatic. That could be largely because I'm also a big lover of sarcasm. It's my first language, really. So, when I'm watching one of my favorite shows, you can bet that I will find all sorts of irony in it.

Especially if said show happens to have character relationships that are the TV equivalent of my real relationships.

Currently, the show I'm watching has the greatest sense of situational irony in my life. Two best friends are about to be separated bcause they're moving away from each other, and one makes a point of saying that their relationship is not the same as it was--her friend should be taking second place to her husband in some aspects. Skip ahead to the next episode: the other friend, in a moment of extreme stress, says something to the effect of her still being there for her friend, even if her friend isn't there for her.

The actual lines that the two characters say are what makes the whole thing so terribly ironic, but I just don't feel like saying them.

Suffice it to say, I love irony, but right now it sucks.

"Inside My Mind, Inside My Dreams"

I recently heard a quote saying that some things were cliches for a reason: they work. I find that right now, agree with that statement.

Another nail in the coffin.
No use crying over spilt milk.
Two steps forward, one step back.
It ain't over til the fat lady sings.

You get the idea.

Sometimes, the best way to say what needs to b said is t use words which have lready ben said more times than you can count or, the quote is just astoundingly famous and is known across te whole world.

Example: JK Rowling wrote that 'fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself'.

There are other times, however, where there are no words for what you want to say, either because you don't know what it is you want to say or you don't want to have to say it. I fall in the second category.

Some things you just don't ever want to admit because if you do admit to them, then everything changes. And it's not always for the better.

"Gather Up Your Tears"

I've been home for nearly a week, and while I'm usually at home bored without access to any sort of vehicle, I haven't felt any traces of cabin fever yet. I did manage to get out and see one of my friends from high school the other night, and we spent a few hours goofing off and catching up; meaning, I spent most of the time talking about how I was doing and getting a sore throat. My friend did say something that made me stop and think when I got home, though.

I don't remember how we got onto the topic exactly, but I know we were discussing how I hated her her because she had just had sex right before coming to see me and it has been almost a year since I've had sex; this is a good thing because the guys I slept with when I was in high school were not the right guys for me and treated me like shit, but bad because I kind of miss it, even if I didn't enjoy it the few times I've had it.

Anyway, we transitioned from that to how long it had been since I last cut, which was sometime in the fall, I'm guessing October, although I really don't remember. My friend told me how proud she was of me for going that long because it's the longest I've gone since I first started cutting. That time, I cut for two months, was clean for almost two years, but then started up again and haven't made it past five months since then. She said that our group of friends should come up with some sort of token like they do in AA meetings. You go this long without doing anything, you get this random poker chip-looking-thing. You get the idea.

That wasn't the part that made me think, although it is a pretty cool idea. What made me think was that I had gone that long without cutting. I'm not saying I haven't wanted to cut. That is very obviously not true, considering it was all I could think about two or three weeks ago, and I know that I've wanted to cut before then.

But I didn't.

I didn't cut, not any of those times that I wanted to, no matter how strong the urge was to find the closest sharp and pointy object, I didn't do anything.

I'm starting to think that, at least in that area, I've begun to move past just "coping" and onto whatever comes after that.

"Finally Thinking 'Bout Me"

I will be the first to admit that I have a tendency toward the over dramatic at times--thankfully not when I really need to have a cool head--and that I let my emotions get the best of me fairly often. Books, movies, TV shows...just about anything that has the possibility of making me emotionally invested stands the chance of causing tears. So, when I say that I've just reached the point where I could actually read all of my critiques from my performance and talk about how I felt without crying, it's a pretty big deal.

The past few days have been hard. I still haven't had the chance to try and talk to one of my best friend about this because she's so busy, and I'm not going to complain about that because I know that her life is so screwed up that she really needs to be busy; I've been ignoring one of my other friends because I knew he would try to make me talk about everything and I wasn't ready to. But it has been hard for me. I finally caved the other day and sent my mom an email talking about all of it and how I felt. I cried the entire time I was typing it, and her reply the next morning made me cry more.

She did make me think though. Last night, I got down on my knees, and I poured my heart out to God about how confused and hurt I was, and I asked Him for answers to my questions; I did the same thing this morning--but with significantly fewer tears--and I fasted today as well. For the first time in almost five years, I went without food and I really and truly prayed for guidance. And I got it.

I didn't get all the answers, but who does really? I was reminded about a few things that I already knew I was supposed to be doing, and I heard a few really good things from my bishop when he spoke today. On top of that, after church I asked for a blessing and had those same words that I liked so much when my bishop said to me reiterated. And I was challenged to do certain things while I'm home the next few months, but I was promised things too. Even better than all of that was the many times I was told that I had made progress this year, that God was watching over me and that He was proud of me.

That made up for everything I went through this weekend.

I made another realization tonight as well.When I was growing up, I honestly didn't care that much about me as a person. I got caught up with other things and I didn't take care of myself, and when I got to college, that only became worse. Tonight, I was watching a recent episode of The Biggest Loser with the girl I'm planning on living with next year, and one of the trainers said something that hit home with me. Roughly paraphrased, he said  that all the progress this one woman in the show had made showed how much she had learned to care about herself as a person. It made me realize something: I need to put the same amount of care and effort into my relationship with myself that I do with my friends.

So, I have a lot to work on, but I think that's a good thing. It means that I can become better.

And who doesn't want that?

"Just Forget the World"

I thought about it.

I thought about it as wrote that last post.
I thought about it as sat on my bed watching Grey's Anatomy.
I thought about it when took my second shower of the day (hottest possible temperature).
I thought about it when I walked down to my friends' room before their choir concert.
I thought about it when I walked down to campus for dinner.
I'm thinking about it now.

About sharp needles and some form of blessed release from how feel so that can bock it all off, shut it away until I feel ready to handle it.

But I didn't.

No, instead, took my hot shower, shaved, put on some makeup, straightened my hair, put on some pretty clothes, and left my room. And I'm going to got to the concert, put on a smile, and give one of my best fucking performances ever a the awards tonight. And then will go back to my room, cry, and think about it some more.

But at least I'm only thinking about it.

**For the record, I wrote this yesterday shortly after the first post, but I did it on my phone and it wouldn't let me post. I'm in a blissful state of denial and avoidance right now and focusing on my brother's current choice of girlfriend.**

"Nobody Knows Where We Might End Up"

While at times I may seem really odd and out of place when I speak of things such as "omens" or "chakras" or "dream interpretation", ninety percent of the time, I don't actually put any store into such things. I may find them interesting or insightful, but I don't actually believe in them.

Today, right this second, falls into the other ten percent.

The other shoe has dropped, and it wasn't in the way I expected or prepared for.

I'm finishing up the last week of school before finals and minutes ago left my final class for the semester, a class which--while not of any significant importance to my graduating--is within the realms of my major. But I should probably start before this.

Let's start with last Thursday, exactly a week ago. This time last week, I was preparing for a graded performance, and I was feeling really good about it. I didn't actually have to do this performance, I had already done an in-class equivalent of it the previous semester, but I felt that it would be good for me to get the input from my professors before I became a senior next spring. I went in around 4 and was finished within ten minutes, and I didn't have a care in the world. I didn't care about the grade, and I told people this; I was only there for the critique.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I noted to myself that the weather was really grey and dreary: not the best omen for the last few days of class before finals. I remember that I hoped the weather today would be better.

Today, I had the written portion of my final for this class, one which I really enjoy and have been told I'm really taking to. I still felt good. The weather was still gloomy, but I felt good. The test only took me a little over half an hour--mostly because of the many short answer questions--but I felt, and still feel, like I did considerably well. As I was leaving the test, I decided I would swing by my advisor's office to see if my score had been posted from the week before.

It was.

"Potential to Major"

Last semester, I was cleared with a high enough score to do a final performance, and now I get three sheets of white office paper, stapled together with my name typed on them, saying that I am not doing well enough at this to have a final performance.

I only have the "potential" to major in this subject, that's all.

Just potential.

One step above "need to reconsider major".

I've been trying not to cry ever since I saw the papers, and failing miserably most of the time. I haven't talked to anyone because everyone I want to talk to is busy.

I feel like shit. Without that performance, everything I've done at this school will have been pointless because I won't be able to graduate. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't graduate and do the things with my life that I want.

So, instead of trying to figure this out and feeling even more miserable, I'm going to curl up in my bed for a few hours, watching Grey's Anatomy and eating chocolate until it's time for me to get ready for an awards ceremony for the people within my major: one more knife stabbing me and saying I'm not good enough to even be nominated for one of the awards.

Great.

"Let Your Dreaming Be Your Guide"

I love how weird my dreams are. Seriously, they just prove exactly how twisted my mind is.

Last night, I was dreaming that I was in some reality show that slightly resembled The Hunger Games...minus the actual dying and the funky romance and the crazy politics. Although, all of that could have been in there and I just forgot. But I think we either faked the deaths or it was a really death-like elimination.

Anyway, I was in this show, and while I don't remember much of it--my roommate's alarm went off early this morning, I thought it was Friday and actually got up--I know that I was "killed off" around the fifth episode of the show; as I was watched the episodes later, I was thinking that maybe the show would make me famous because my screen presence (and death scene) was amazing.

I have a bit of an ego when it comes to acting, so sue me.

Interpretation, to the best of my ability, is as follows:

reality show: life is under scrutiny; need a reality check
Hunger Games: feeling unfulfilled and challenged in life
being on TV: want to broadcast something to the world, a desire to express self; or, trying to be more objective about life
faked death: looking for a new start in life
five: five senses and sensitivity; change in path

>>>>I feel as though my life is under constant scrutiny by those around me and I am challenged by what it is they expect me to do. I feel as though I am expected to do certain things and be a certain way, when all I want to do is show everyone exactly who I really am. But I don't do that, and I give up and stop trying to challenge myself and continue on by ignoring certain aspects of my life. I need to be more sensitive to what I want and who I am, but shouting to the rooftops that I'm starting my life over isn't the way to do it.<<<<

I knew I was a twisted person; my subconscious used The Hunger Games to give me a reality check.

"The Truth That I Know"

I'm not normally the type of girl who has crazy crushes and goes insane over some guy, daydreaming about silly things...lately, however, I've been exactly that girl. And I feel pathetic.

Tonight, I got to be the awkward fifth wheel because one of my friends felt as though it would be awkward to go on this non-date to get dinner with another couple. Both of the guys who were at dinner with us were really good friends with my friend who is on his mission for the church right now, and I found myself zoning in and out of the conversation--especially when we were in the van and lacking someone to be coupley with--and I would just daydream about the weirdest things. Well, weird to me.

It's possible that the sudden influx of sparkly decoration on the left hands of so many girls at school is getting to me, but the word "proposal" floated through my mind more than once. I was thinking that I would have all of the spring and summer to be around and with this friend of mine and then we would go on this trip to Ireland like we had planned on before he left; somehow, this idea morphed into a sparkly blue topaz and diamond ring on my hand.

I find the entire idea mildly terrifying. For starters, I haven't seen this guy in over a year and won't see him again til after Christmas. On top of that, when he left, he was interested in a different girl and I was with a different guy; as far as he knows, that hasn't changed much on my end. As if that wasn't enough, there is a chance that his dad could be my bishop at some point, which would inevitably lead to his dad finding out about all of my problems and issues and screw ups.

And quite possibly worse, I know he is way too good for me. That is more than evident as soon as you meet each of us. How incredibly depressing.

Do I actually like this friend of mine? I've gotten to the point where I really have no idea how to tell if I like someone, and I am more than aware of how bad I am at relationships.

For now, I'll have to leave the whole thing alone. It's a moot point until he gets back, and even then...

"They See Someone That's Not Me"

Sometimes, the people I go to school with and voluntarily spend my time with amaze me by how sheltered they are. And by sheltered I mean the level of discomfort they have with sexuality and the choices some people make.

Case A: some of my friends were making a big deal about sex and saying how they weren't ready for it, a man's penis scared them, etc. Which, for the average virgin, I suppose is fairly normal. But I just wanted to sit down and tell them it's nothing to be scared of, and I couldn't. I've tried to drop hints that would make easy segues into at least part of my story, but no one ever catches them; like when I said I have learned to be extremely grateful one week every month, everyone always thinks it's because I've had moments where I had to worry that I had some sort of disorder or body issue. The thought never crosses their mind that I've had multiple pregnancy scares in my life.

Tonight wasn't any different. "Beware the one-eyed snake." "I'm not ready for sex." The entire time, I sat there, wanting to say something, but couldn't because very few people here know my story. Of the four people on this campus who have heard my story, one is my bishop, another moved away, the third is the ex of the one who moved (and he's kind of scray-crazy right now), and the other one...she is:

Case B: the past couple of days, this friend has been so hung up on hating on this one character of a TV show we watch because this character cheated on her husband, which therefore makes her an awful person. And I wanted to slap her. Every. Single. Time. Yes, I do mean my friend, not the character in the show.

It's so easy for her to pass judgement on people who have made dumb choices like that, and she forgets that I've been there. I made stupid choices like that. I cheated on one of my exes. Granted, cheating on a boyfriend is not quite the same as having an affair, I get that. But it's not that different either. You still feel like shit afterward, especially when the other person finds out. So yeah, I took a little bit of offense at my friend saying how awful people were who cheated.

Guess that means I'm an awful person.

It's time like this where I start to think that no matter what I do, I'm never really going to fit in in the world I grew up in, the world my school and friends live in. I was born into that world--which is more like a bubble--, and for five years I chose to leave it and live in the rest of the world; now that I'm trying to come back and be a good person, I keep having all of my problems shoved back into my face, as if everyone was saying "You're not good enough...you screwed up....get out". It won't be any easier when I go home, and it will be even harder next year because the girl I'm planning on living with knows nothing of my situation. She doesn't know that I've had sex or thought I was pregnant or have a tattoo or that I used to cut...or that I wanted to cut this week because I was so stressed.

I didn't do it, by the way. Thought about it, but I didn't. Not worth it. But I won't lie about how appealing the thought was. Too bad the only pointy object at hand was a rusty safety pin; there was no way in hell that was coming anywhere near my body, I don't care how desperate I am.

Moral of the story? There isn't one. But there is an evident fact of life: forgiving and forgetting is easy until you start talking about yourself.

Give Me Shelter From the Storm

I'm not quite sure if I even have the words to say what's going through my head right now, but I'm going to attempt to explain it because I haven't posted anything in awhile, and blogging is actually fairly theraputic. And since I quit therapy around February, I need all the help I can get.

I think I've put a block on my life, for lack of better words. It's something I tend to do; everything is going well, but after awhile I start to tense up and back away from whatever was making me happy. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak.

I stopped talking to one of my friends for a few days. I wasn't mad or anything, just...didn't text. Haven't talked to another friend in over a week. And I don't really tell my friends here at school about anything going on. Although, if I tried to explain what's happening, I don't think I would make any sense.

A lot of people know me as a fairly pessimistic person; a few friends even joked that it was the ultimate irony that this guy from school--dubbed Mr. Smiley because he's always so freaking smiley--asked me on a date, and I am Miss Negative-Sarcastic-Angry or something. I don't know if I do it on purpose. I guess I've just always seen anything good as just a small break before all hell breaks loose again.

Like when a big storm comes rolling up, and you can see the clouds roiling and the sky is this sickly shade of yellow, and you just know a tornado is coming. As the storm hits, there's all this wind and hail, and even lightning. But just before you start to see the funnel dropping down, everything goes quiet for a few long seconds... And then the world just explodes and everything is sucked into the sky.

I think, right now, I'm just waiting for that tornado to begin, for the other shoe to drop. Because my life is never this calm for long. The only problem with that shoe dropping, that storm finally hitting, is I don't know what I'll do. It's been awhile since I've had this type of calm, and then my life blew up. What if I've forgotten what to do? What if I can't handle whatever it is that happens?

I can already feel myself pulling away, preparing for whatever is going to happen. The storm shelter around me has been weakened and warped from disuse, and I don't know if I can hold up against everything. But I can feel it... I can tell it's time to batten down the hatches.

"Chances Taken, Hope Embraced"

I have been in the weirdest mood lately. Well, not exactly weird per se; any other person would find this perfectly normal, but for me...it's weird.

I'm actually happy.

I literally danced around my room last night while I ate my yogurt and granola. Not that me being crazy in the safety of my room is weird, but me being happy for more than a day for no reason is. I even did 30 minutes of yoga before I did my homework, and I'm sore from it today, nut I'm still in a good mood. I mean, I even put on a skirt today--voluntarily!

I am happy. And I kinda like it.

"Everything You Want Me To Be"

Let's just move past the whole "I'm a bitch" moment. Things are--mostly--better between my friend and I. We both admitted to being idiots in our own ways, and now we're...back to hardly talking because she's busy and I'm too lazy to pick up my phone.

I don't know, I guess I'm one of those people who only turns to other people when there's something wrong , and even then it's usually only on my end. Although, other people turn to me when they have problems. All. The. Time. Even when I have no experience in the matter, or only bad experiences. When things are going well, though, I don't really talk to people. I don't know if it's that I don't care to talk about the void of drama in my life, or if I'm extremely selfish and needy and only want people around on my terms. I really hope that it's not that last one because, personally, I'd like to think that it's more of me being used to only dealing with my life on my own, only bringing people into everything when I wanted to. Not because I don't want them in my life, but more because I didn't want to bring them into a situation that I had either gotten myself into or one that they couldn't help with. Or both.

I'm so used to spending all of my time trying to be whoever it was that other people wanted, thinking that's what I wanted to. In reality, I think what I really wanted was to be wanted and loved, but I felt like people wouldn't feel that way about me if they really knew me, that I had a better chance of being liked if I was what I knew they liked about other people or what they wanted to like in me. That's probably why my personality is so all over the place, why I don't fit within a specific "type". I spent too much of my life trying to be any and all types that I brought aspects of them into me.

This also meant that I go so good at lying, I'd even believe myself. Which is really scary when you think about it.

Thinking about all that effort I spent, I can see that I was once again trying to control everything; I wanted to control how others saw me, to control who liked me. No wonder I got the shitty boyfriends. They were all the type of guy who likes to superimpose his idea of who the girl is--whether she be the "barefoot in the kitchen" type or the "lady in the streets, demon in the sheets" type--and trample all over her until she believes she really is who he says, until she reaches the point where she doesn't think she can be anything else and will lose all sense of her identity without him.

Basically, I had control issues which sent me so far out of control I would take any help offered, any sense of direction I could cling to, and I didn't care if it took me to the depths of hell so long as I felt in control and had someone else there.

I'm still dealing with some of that; I still have this aching need for someone to want me, for me to have someone to hold me, to want me, to think I'm the whole world. But I'm starting to realize that I can have that, I just have to wait for the right person who will actually treat me like I am their world and who will want me just the way I am.

Too bad I hate being patient.

"You're Miles Away...You Just Can't Relate"

I have a feeling this is going to get really angry and mean really fast. I would even use the phrase "passive aggressive" to describe where this is headed, and I'm okay with that. I'm the queen of passive aggressive lately. I really just want the chance to look this person in the eye and say "sorry honey, but I'm about to bitch about you and you can yell at my voicemail later." Too bad that won't ever happen.

First, the more recent crap (not that this friend's life drama is crap, of course). Most people who know me would agree that I'm the type of girl who, once I'm close to someone, I stay that way. It doesn't matter how long I've known a person, once I get to the point where I accept you and put the "friend" label in place, you're stuck with me. And I'm actually a really good friend. 90% of the time. I'd like to think the past few days haven't been an exception to that rule. So when one of my friends' life pretty much imploded, I was immediately there in every way I possibly could be, and I haven't stopped. I don't plan to. But the person who introduced us? Very wrapped up in the new drama she landed in. And I'm not discounting that what is happening with her isn't important; it's important to her, and therefore important to me. But when other people need you this badly, relationship drama and other issues can be set aside for maybe five minutes of the day to check for signs of life.

And I'm not even sure if that's what's bothering me. Not really. I'm a big enough girl to admit to a good amount of my faults, and one of them is that I get jealous. I do. I am a moderately jealous person, I'd even go so far as to say diva on occasion, and that only doubles when I feel I am close to someone and triples when I get the feeling that its mostly one-sided. So, when I am told that I was the person called because so-and-so can't talk and such-and-such has enough to deal with, I get slightly peeved.

To be completely frank, I'm fairly certain that most of this is frustration because I'm feeling confused about who I am and what I want...and who I want. Remember back when I went on hiatus from social networking? Yeah, that was because I was fighting with people, went to vent about it to some of my other friends (who have known me quite a bit longer than the other set of people in question), and I was forced to confront my feelings for one of my friends. And the one time I got up the nerve to admit to it in an email to this person, half of said email (which was a fairly lengthy apology and explanation of my bad attitude) didn't make it, and I lost my nerve to try and repeat myself.

So, there you go. I have emptied my heart out to my computer and, therefore, the entire world. Including a person who I may still have feelings for, even though I know the whole thing is entirely hopeless. And I know that as soon as I hit "post" I'm going to regret it and want to delete it before anyone reads it, but I won't do that. The point of this blog is for me to be open and honest, at least with myself if no one else.

And therefore, merely for the sake of said honesty...all of this angst and anger? I know I'm most likely misdirecting it toward people (okay...toward person) because... Because I am more mad at myself for even feeling anything toward her in the first place.

Feeling things, friendship or otherwise, for the people around me? It just sucks.

"You're Part of My Entity"

Sometimes I really wish I didn't get emotionally involved in other people's lives; my therapist even told me that I got too invested in the things I couldn't help, but I ignored him. Maybe if I didn't care so much, I'd be better off, you know? Less stress, better emotional stability...

Times like this make mecwant to curl up in my bed with the blankets over my head and my headphones, pretending that other people's problems don't exist. It doesn't matter how much I care about the person--actually, that's a lie: the more I care about the person, the more emotionally involved I get in his/her life, and the more painful it is for me.

I made a Facebook status awhile Bach, jokingly complaining about how everyone seemed to com to me for advice; my mom even took a picture of me and made a "Ask ___" sign for me. The thing is, my friends only come to me when I have nothing but my intuition to back my advice; when I have real experience in where certain choices lead you, they ignore my attempts to talk and blow me off when I call. It's frustrating to no end. If I could, I'd probably strangle quite a few of my friends on a regular basis because I think they're incredibly stupid.

Oh well. I guess itvdoesntbmatter how much you love a person, you can't force them to grow the he'll up and realize what he/she is doing, more's the pity.

I am going to take some advice a close friend gave me and twist it around a little: if you're allowed to be doing the stupid shit you're doing, then I'm allowed to cut. They're both equally detrimental, andbi don't care how you justify it to yourself.

"Throw Up Your Arms Into the Sky"

Fair warning, I'm feeling a bit lonely-needy tonight, so I really don't know where my feelings are going to take me.

I've had this thought buzzing around my head for awhile now, one that comes up every time I have to give any sort of performance; tonight it reared its ugly, jealous head again, and I can't decide whether I'm more frustrated or depressed about it. I feel like it's perfectly normal to want people to support you when you're doing something you really care about and enjoy, whether it's having your friends read every article you write in a school paper or attend all of your public performances--even the bad ones.

At my performance tonight, I kept catching myself looking out into the dark auditorium and wondering if any of my friends were there. I saw one after we had finished and I was headed downstairs, but I knew she wasn't there because I was performing: her roommate was performing too, and that is why she came. I catch myself doing that each and every time I perform or do something that's really meaningful to me, and by the end of the night I always feel really empty and depressed.

After a show, I see my friends getting these gorgeous bouquets of flowers from their significant others, or their families, or their roommates.... I have never in my life received flowers after a performance. Wait, that's a lie: my dad left some on my bed for me after a show he didn't actually go to, and after my last show I came away with one yellow rose. Granted, everyone in the cast got one for doing a good job (which signify friendship, not "job well done" which is a red rose), but I still dried it and pinned it to the cork board above my bed. Why? Because...because for a few, fleeting moments, when I first took in the fragrance and beauty of that rose, I felt like someone cared enough to watch me perform.

It makes me worry a little when I think of all of the things I go through after performances and then remember that I'm going to be giving major recitals next year (both 2013 semesters, actually). Maybe I'm worrying too much about things that are a ways in the future, but I have this nagging feeling that no one will show up because it's my recital...they'll show up because they have to for a class or something. Or because they're my family and I told them to fly in and see me.

I think everyone likes feeling wanted and appreciated, especially at times when you're doing something you love and enjoy sharing with others. I know I have appreciated the times I see my friends in the audience, or they find me after everything's finished, but even then...we talk for maybe a minute and then they leave. Feeling over. And I stand there by myself, awkward and alone, watching everyone else get hugged and praised and loved.

Forget frustration, it's just depressing. It is extremely debilitating to see the rest of the world going on with their lives because they have better things to do than let you know they care.

"Nobody loves you, everyone left you, they're all out without you, having fun."                                                     ~Green Day, "21 Guns"

I'll end it here for tonight, while there's still a chance for me to rally my spirits for St. Patrick's day tomorrow and lunch with a friend. We'll broach the topic of my jealousy another day.

"Wake Up To The Sun"

I've had an epiphany. Well...I've re-realized something:

I can be a very negative person.

It's true, I really do get negative and angry and let my emotions over one event screw up my whole day. So, I'm going to try really hard to stop doing that. I'm not saying that I'm going to be a totally new person because, let's face it, I'm so much cooler as me than as some happy perky psycho. But I am going to brush off my negativity and focus on the happy stuff. Ironically, focusing on the happy stuff is advice I gave someone the other day; obviously, I'm not good at taking anyone's advice--especially my own.

Today, I made an effort to be alive and enjoy the day. I was actually up early enough this morning to hear the birds outside without them being drowned out by all the people who walk around during the day. I may not have literally taken the time today to "stop and smell the roses", but I did make an effort to tell myself what a good day I was having and remember that I was happy and alive.

I read a friend's blog today, got caught up on everything going on since Sunday (he's even worse than I was that one day; he posts like 3 blogs each day it seems). One of his more recent posts reminded me about something I learned when I first started to look into yoga and meditation. The first step to help reduce stress and increase focus is your breath, and there was this really amazing quote that resonated with me so strongly that I made it into a screen saver on my laptop...and then promptly began to ignore it every time it came up.

"Stop. Breathe. Go slow."

 I have the tendency to focus on everything going on at the same time and rush through things, sometimes without thinking, and then freak out because I'm stressed and I feel like I have no time to get everything done, so I try to rush through and do it all at once, which causes more stress... It's a never ending cycle for me. But if I stop, and take a moment to breathe, then move on and work my way through everything at a slower pace, I'm not stressed.

I re-epiphanied. And it feels fantastic!

"Let My Heart Defeat My Mind"

Alright, I have taken the time to get over myself and my neediness. People piss me off with their inherent stupidity, what else is new?

But that's not the big thing on my mind at the moment.

All I remember about the dream was that I am going to get on a flight to Korea (I think) for some big important school or audition or job. Anyway, the flight is the last leg of the trip, going over the ocean, but I am in the process of getting to that flight from my previous one. The way to get to that flight is hard to remember, but I vaguely remember it feeling like one of those inflatable playgrounds with a slide we had to take to reach the jetway. And I am talking to a guy (who I am assuming was cute) about going  to wherever it is we're heading...then I wake up and forget all the details.

Now, since lately I've been pretty into dream interpretation in order to understand what one's brain is trying to comprehend, I looked up the major symbols I could remember:

transferring planes- important transitional phase taking you away from your intended path to new heights and recognition
Korea- going back to my roots, something I grew up with
ocean (going over it)- newfound freedom and independence
slide (combining "slide" with "waterslide")- instability or loss of control, being carried away by your emotions
the guy- aspects of your character which are assertive, rational, or aggressive, aspects which you may need to incorporate into your own character

If I put all that together to the best of my ability, I come up with: I am approaching a phase in my life where I will have to make  a decision about going back to part of my life that I grew up with and left. This decision could possibly lead me to a good place in my life, but I'm being resistant to the idea, feeling very out of control about making this decision, and I should be more rational and assertive in making up my mind.

I'm not thrilled about this idea because, if it is indicating what I think it is, I am VERY resistant to making this decision. It is not a road I feel I am ready, or even able, to go down; getting to the point where I could go down the road this decision will lead to will be very hard and painful, and most likely expensive for my family.

It feels like everywhere I turn, the world is screaming at me to go on, make this choice, it's the right one for you and your future, and I just wan to be a petulant child and scream back "NO!!!" But I think that might be heresy or blasphemy or some other -y that will mean God won't leave me alone until I say "yes".

"Not Yours For the Taking"

Alright, I realize that a) I've broken my "most posts in a 24 (or any other) hour period" and b) probably scared any sane person who actually does care enough to read this blog...at last count being three people? Roughly.

So, no, I'm not going to cut. Not tonight, and not because some moronic boy pissed me off by being a boy and not thinking before he opened his damn mouth. Which, for this boy, is pretty typical, so I don't know why I was surprised.

I've decided that he's not worth me crying, or freaking out, or having even the slightest intention to cut. Why? Because he's a stupid boy. That is what I've decided.

There is not a single person on this earth right now (who I have met, anyway) who is worth the pain I would be putting myself through if I went back to being who I was. So, I'm not going to go there. Granted, I'm still not going to talk to the guy any time soon because I am still pretty pissed at how inconsiderate he was. I mean, he did eventually ask how I was and if I was okay, but that was only after I told him that the situation I was in tonight escalated to a point that reminded me of my dad; and by that point, I'd been stewing for a good hour or so and I ripped into him. And if I try to talk to him now, the verbal lashing he will get will make him volunteer to be castrated. I'm not quite pissed enough to deny him future children, although I do hope they take after their mother in the brain department.

So, no need to worry. I'm not going to hurt myself. Plenty of other people are willing to do it for me.

"Stay With Me, Or Watch Me Bleed"

I'm still in a really shitty mood and I need to vent, but if I actually try to talk to a living person with actual conversation, I may rip his head off. So...blogging it is.

While I was hanging out with one of my friends today, my choices in who I date came up. Not in a bad way...technically....but more in a "I'm trying to understand how all your ex-boyfriends were such douchebags" way. I made the mistake of telling my friend that just because I am bi and equally attracted to both men and women does not mean that I am attracted in the same way. I'm much pickier about the women I'm interested in, which is why I've only had one truly serious crush on a girl to this day.

If I decided to be with a girl, it would be based on more than just her looks and if she turns me on. Unfortunately, however, that seems to be the only thing I care about when I choose the guys I fall for. Which could be interpreted as me either having really low standards or just being a whore. Both ideas basically came up in conversation today. Not that the whore bit really mattered in the end...I mean, no guy has actually stuck around long enough to get past that idea. There were always greener pastures, more wild oats to sow, or whatever the hellish metaphor it is I'm supposed to use.

I just don't get how I am never enough. I try. I try so damn hard to be what people want me to be. I've gotten really good at it; I mean, I kind of had to, it's the only way I survived living at home. I would pretend to be the good daughter my parents wanted, the good student, the good friend...the good girlfriend who will do whatever it takes to make her boyfriend happy so he doesn't leave her just like everyone else. Just like everyone always does.

It's gotten to the point where I don't actually know what it is I want anymore. Besides meaningless sex with a drunk frat boy and a sharp object. Those both sound really good right now.

I would really love to understand what exactly is so wrong with me that not only can I not be the right person, but I can't say or do the right things; I can't make people happy and on top of that, I can't seem to get people to realize that I'm a person too.

So let me spell it out for you, loud and clear: I am not invisible; I have feelings, I get hurt. When you ignore me or abandon me or yell at me for reasons I don't understand, it hurts. The words you do say, and the ones you don't say? The cut me deeper than anything I've done to myself.

And I want to hate you for it.

But what's probably worse? I want to hate myself for even letting those feelings exist.

"Memories Both Perfect and In Pain"

Sometimes I feel like people just really want me to hate them; or at least dislike them. I'm serious. And what's worse is sometimes those people are actually my friends. Although, the term "friend" may be switched to one with less of a...binding definition due to selfishness and worry for everyone but me.

I say that I had a really weird experience today to friend...let's call them Friend A. I tell Friend A that a bunch of different things happened while I was with friend B and that I talked to Friend C about them because they inadvertently involved Friend C. The following is an accurate description of where the conversation went:

Friend A: Is [Friend C] ok?
Me: Yeah, [Friend C] wasn't the one who had to deal with [Friend B].
Friend A:  What do you mean?
Me: I talked to [Friend B] today, [Friend C] didn't.
Friend A: .....Ok. [Friend C] is ok though? We haven't talked today.

Does anyone else see the problem here, or is that just me? If I'm the one having to deal with the situation, shouldn't SOMEONE be worrying if I'M okay?

And now that I'm done venting, I'm going to eat my Keebler Cheesecake Middles cookies, drink some juice, and watch bad 90's TV.
............

Of course, now that I've said that, Friend A (who I'm still fairly pissed at) is asking if the situation was awkward for me, etc. I'm astounded by people's idiocy sometimes.
I know that I'm being really needy and selfish, but I don't handle certain situations well. Especially ones which remind me of home and my relationship with my dad. He has really bad anger issues. Really bad. So it's a bit of an understatement to say that I wasn't feeling all that great after being forcibly reminded about all the drama I'm escaping by not being at home, and I feel I have at least a small right to be needy and want someone to actually care how I'm feeling without my having to spell it out for them first.

It seems like none--or at least VERY few--of my friends even try to get past the walls I throw up when I'm not comfortable. Half the time, I don't think they even try to see if the walls are up, if I'm in what one really close friend has dubbed my "zombie mode"; instead, people just assume I'm not going to want to talk about what's on my mind or try to get at the heart of an issue. I guess it's just easier to go straight to what other people are dealing with, especially if A used to B (and pretty much still is) extremely into C.

Why is it so damn hard for someone to care about me? Am I just that hard to get to know, to care for, that people just stopped trying after awhile? I hadn't thought that I was quite that awful, but hey, all my ex boyfriends thought so. I mean, none of them really liked me  for anything but my body.

Maybe I was right earlier when I said my job was just to stand here and look pretty. Means I don't have to feel, or at least only feel what is necessary for certain circumstances. Maybe I've had it wrong lately; maybe who I used to be wasn't so bad. The old me didn't really want people to be worried about her, she just wanted people to like her.

Then again, the old me was a bit of a whore. And I'm not particularly keen on that aspect of my old life.

"Half timing...the other half's luck"

Ok, so my friend showed me this on Facebook today, and I realized: he makes a very good point! Just watch.

Point A) The idea is to get the RIGHT guy (or girl....) to like me. Not just ANYone, the RIGHT one. I've spent too long hoping that someone would like me, and then took whoever came along and said they did. And I suppose, in their own way, they did like me...just not for the reasons I wanted them to. Whoever I end up with will respect me for me. This is non-negotiable.

Point B) Patience...not my best attribute; meaning, I have none. But it's a work in progress. One that I should probably apply toward my future...whoever. (Person? Mate? Spouse? Companion? Life-partner? I'm confused....)

Point C) I have self-worth, and I need to realize that. I am not a product of my ex-boyfriends, and any shit they said about me or things they did to me is not a reflection of who I am. I am beautiful, and smart, and silly, and (usually) quite sweet.

Point D) I'm generally a nice person anyway...I just have to work on not coming across as rude when I don't know someone. Apparently, I do that. I would normally label that as "I'm shy", but I don't think anyone who knows me would actually buy that....

Point E) Does this mean I need to learn about video games if I'm going after a guy (or certain girls I guess)? I could get my brother to teach me... I already know about football. More than enough. Although, ideally, whoever I decide to date would already have stuff in common with me.

Point F) Got this one down. I am quite needy (in a good way), and I open my heart to everyone I care about. I am quite loving...and loveable. Right?

Point G) Chivalry...are you sure that's not dead?

Point H) Also not a problem. The worst outfit I wear in public is a tank top and jeans. So scandalous! Not.

Point I) I don't normally think that I subscribe to the crap Hollywood tries to feed us, but then again... I did reach the point where I thought guys would only stay with me if I slept with them. I know, not my brightest moment, but it happens. I have started to realize that this idea is complete BS; if a guy (or girl) only wants in my pants, he (or she) is obviously not worth my time. Especially if he thinks the back of his car or an empty movie theater is going to help matters.

Point J) Boundaries...ooh, yeah...that's a big one. Again, no sleeping with someone just to keep them interested (chances are, they won't be interested after they sleep with you because they are douchebags). It's that "respecting myself" thing again. If I respect myself, then I will attract people who will respect me and not push the boundaries I choose to set up. Which means I probably ought to set some up...eventually. Currently, not an issue.

Point...K) haha, now this one is easy. So long as "myself" doesn't scare people away. Although...the right person wouldn't be scared away....hmmm....interesting thought.

I know this is one of my more random posts, but the video caught my attention and I wanted to get my thoughts down so I would have something to reference later...when I actually get back in the dating scene. If ever.

"First To Fall, Last To Know"

I was thinking this week about that new project of mine, and I remembered some doodles I did when I was dealing with all of my various relationships and consequent drama. Decided I'd put them up on here. Just for kicks and giggles.

Basically, I'd draw whatever my feelings led me to draw, and I used song lyrics to either fill in the background or to help me come up with ideas on how to express what I was feeling.

 Song: "Lullaby" by Emmy Rossum
           -I'm fairly certain this one was done with Michael in mind, presumably after one of our MANY fights.

 Song: "Guardian Angel" by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
           -This one was for Blake; I was mad because he was off flirting with really pretty cheerleaders.

 Songs: "A Million Pieces" by Emmy Rossum, "Not Givin' Up" by Natasha Bedingfield, "Riddle" by Mindy Gledhill
           -This was also for Blake. I was trying to figure out where we were headed after I screwed things up.

 Songs: "Austin" by Blake Shelton, "1234" by Plain White T's, "I'm Jealous" by Shania Twain, "What I Did For Love" from A Chorus Line, "If I Could Be Where You Are" by Enya, "Can't Have You" by The Jonas Brothers
           -I think this was for Blake and for Michael, but I'm leaning more towards choosing Michael and wondering why he still cared about me after...2 years?

 Song: "Fearless" by Taylor Swift
           -Eric. Just after I met him, when I was incredibly happy and excited, still naive enough to think it would actually end well.

 Song:"Can You Feel The Love Tonight" from The Lion King
           -Still Eric, still happy.
           **Note the teddy bear; he's been around since the second drawing and only since Eric's pictures has he started to look remotely better. He has patches instead of holes, and his eye is almost fixed. Like I said, naive.

 Songs: "No Air" by Jordin Sparks, "Behind These Hazel Eyes" by Kelly Clarkson
           -Yeah...still Eric. He disappeared and I was worried because I didn't know what was going on.
           **Teddy lost his eye again....

 Songs: "Forever and Always" by Taylor Swift, "Falling" by Emmy Rossum
           -Yeah, the "E" gave it away. He was back by this point, I think. I was hopeful again.

Songs: "High" by Emmy Rossum, "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield
           -I think this one is the most depressing now that I look at it. I really thought that things with Eric would be great and I'd be happy. It was the best I'd felt with a guy in a long time.

That was the last one of these I've done; it's dated 4/4/10. A few weeks after that, I realized that Eric wasn't going to be in my life. He pulled a Houdini, left me high and dry, and I haven't heard from him since. Pretty sure if I did, I'd kill him. Or at least seriously maim him to the point where children weren't a possibility.

I am thinking about doing another drawing, however. I'm thinking I might base it off of the titles of all of my posts so far. We'll see.

"Raise a Flag, Let You In"

Ok, I've got like twenty billion things going on in my head right now, many of which I have decided I should talk about with someone, especially since pretty much everyone on campus is leaving for break; this means I'll be left here, by myself, playing hermit in my room for a week. Great.

I have no idea where to begin. I didn't even want to tell anyone, except the one person I talked to last night when I was crying my eyes out and scared senseless. I don't like it when people worry about me, and I try really hard not to give them reasons to. Sometimes I feel like...like if I tell my friends what's going on every time something happens, they'll eventually start to think that I'm trying to get attention. I'm not, and I know that, but still. I'm going to file that worry under the heading of "Scared-To-Death-That-People-Will-Abandon-Me-And-I'll-Be-Alone".

Moving on. I suppose one of the big things I should be talking about right now is that I had another...I don't think there is a way to describe what happened last night, but the end point is that I was bleeding, in mental/emotional/physical pain, crying my eyes out, and hating myself with nearly every fiber of my being. I didn't cut, but I really REALLY wanted to. Wanted to do so much worse than that, but managed to get talked out of it.

I had to beg my friend not to tell anyone (the whole worrying thing and all), but today she wouldn't get off my case about it, and I mean that in a nice and loving way. She said she wouldn't tell any of our mutual friends, but only if I promised to tell someone who will be here: i.e. church leader, my therapist, one of our friends here at school. I haven't told any of those people yet, but I did text the other friend and at least make an effort to possibly hang out with him sometime this week. We'll see how that goes.

I'm trying really hard to move on from the person I used to be, and most days I can coast along and manage everything, but some days...some days it just sucks. Especially since...how did she put it? I am the type of person who will be whoever/do whatever I feel is necessary to make someone else happy, whether that means I keep my mouth shut and have no opinions, or if that means I say "I love you" and let people treat me like a sex toy. Pretty sure that's how she phrased it...

Anyway, tonight was a little hard for me. A friend of mine was talking to me tonight, and kind of flirting, but only in the physical "I-want-to-get-you-horny-so-you'll-help-me-because-I'm-horny" type of flirting. Not that long ago (literally, like a month ago), I would have--and did--say "yeah, sure, ok" to that without even thinking about it. And then one of two things would have happened: we would have continued to do that every time he "needed" me and I would pretend like I didn't feel used for letting him do that, or I would tell him not to do that anymore and we would be at an awkward standstill for a month or two until it happened again. Case in point, considering our friendship as of right now.

Tonight, I managed to say no. Granted, I had to be talked into saying no because, as much as I wanted to say no, I knew that I wasn't really strong enough to do it myself. So, I told him that I was trying to move past who I used to be, etc etc etc, and he seems to be taking it well--so far. It's a work in progress relationship.

I'm only saying all of this because I'm trying to be honest with other people as well as myself; if I wasn't, I'd be bottling all of this up inside and freaking out.

Also, when did I become the person everyone went to for advice? I am falling apart! I know nothing, why do people keep asking me these things.

"I Am Ready For The Road Less Traveled"

You probably noticed I have changed the background from the blank paper to a dandelion.

You may be wondering what the hell a dandelion has to do with the path my life is on.

The answer: I have no idea. But the dandelion, with the seeds being blown away into the sky, seemed like the most hopeful background I could find, and hope is something I've come to really need in my life.

I still don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going, and I have no idea if I ever will. But I can live with that. I just have to keep hoping that things will get better, and not just for me.

I hope things will get better for my family at home.
I hope things will get better for my friends and their families.
I hope things will get better for any poor person who stumbled across my blog and realized that maybe they are in the same boat as me...and that boat is sinking fast.

For the moment, I'm choosing hope. It's a better alternative to a safety pin.

As a side note, because we all know how much I love them, I have added a nifty little gadget to my blog. If you would look to the right side of your screen (>>>>>that way>>>>>) you will see something mentioning an email subscription. Type in your email, and you will be notified as soon as I publish a new post. I won't even know you're getting the emails, as far as I am aware anyway, so this is mostly for the sake of the silly people who insist on worrying about me. I'm being nice and making life a little easier for you; you can thank me later with chocolate.

Now, onto something I'm sure you're really wanting to know about: the personal project I mentioned. It is another blog. Yes, I am crazy enough to have two blogs going simultaneously. The new blog is a little different from this one though. It's set up as a story, based on real events.

Based on my events.

There are only two posts right now; well, a Preface post and then a normal post. If you choose to read it, make sure you start at the beginning, with the Preface. It will make more sense that way. All of the names have been changed, and--eventually--my closer friends and those involved in certain events will make an appearance.
>>>>>www.themenwhoshapedme.blogspot.com<<<<<

"I Want to Make You Feel Beautiful"

Today at church, the meeting was broadcast from Utah to the entire Virginia, W Virginia, and DC area. Each speaker said something which really touched me, and I was being a dutiful girl and writing down my thoughts in a notebook (and, admittedly, doodling); but the last speaker really got to me. Actually, even before he began to speak, I had this feeling like it was important and I should listen. His topic was on the Sanctity of Womanhood, meaning "why women are special in the eyes of God and should be treated as such".

For the next 45minutes I listened to him talk, felt as if he were speaking just for me, and the words he said made me cry. For a lot of reasons.

He reminded me that I am a child of God, and not just that; a daughter, one who is worthy of His love no matter what I do. This man talked about how women were God's most divine creation, that God created woman only after He had divided the day from the night, created the earth and the sea, made all the animals as well as man, and after He had created woman, He declared His work complete and rested. Which means women are pretty special. He saved the best for last, obviously.

He also spoke of how men should treat women, how they should do everything in their power to remind us who we are to God and how special we are (this includes opening doors and saying we are beautiful *insert big smile here*). He said that a worthy young man could easy be the key in uplifting a young woman and making her realize just how important she is by the way he treats her. And I realized that I never had a guy who was like that....minus my guy friends. But in the realm of dating? Never. (Hehe...apparently, men should be very careful not to make women cry because God counts a woman's tears....guess my ex-boyfriends are screwed).

Then he said some stuff about being married, and I kinda tuned out for a bit because (obviously) I am not married. I mean, I listened, but it didn't really apply to me right that second. Or this second. Or any second in the near future. (Earlier in the meeting, one speaker called this "selective listening"...looks like I'll be repenting for that tonight).

There was also a portion about fathers and their special relationship with their daughters; how fathers are (or at least should be) the example of how men should treat women so their daughters choose the right person to spend their lives with. To be perfectly honest, this part made me want to die...or scream at my dad. Either one. In the end, I decided my dad is a good example of the type of guy I don't want to marry...as is evidenced by all of my exes.

The main point I'm trying to get at here is this: I am beautiful, and I should  be proud of that; but I should also be proud that I am beautiful on the inside too (despite all my dark and twisty-ness). I deserve a man who will treat me right, treat me like a precious treasure that he is blessed to have, because quite frankly, he will be. I don't need to be around or involved with guys who are immature and do not see anything beyond my outer appearance: they aren't worth my time or energy. Even more than that, I deserve a man who will help me to raise a family full of love and happiness, who will do everything in his power to make sure that I feel safe and happy and loved, and give me the chance to have a happy family life, and never treat me like my dad treats my mom. Or my brother. Or me.

I deserve all of that, and more. And one day, when I find the right guy, it will happen.


*As a side note, this has strengthened my resolve to work on a personal project of mine. A few people know about it because I've asked for their help. Once I get it going a bit more, I'll give more details about it.

**Other side note; apparently I can make an email list of up to 10 people to get notified once I post. If you aren't following this already with your own account, and you want to know when I post something, you know how to get ahold of me and let me know.

***Extra other side note (I'm in a weird mood, deal with it); every few weeks I update the playlist on this blog to include whatever new songs I've used in the post titles. This side note has no real purpose, but I was thinking about it and thought I'd mention it. Just because it's my blog and I can.

"The Pen's In My Hand, Ending Unplanned"

I've been thinking lately (ok, so for the past 30 seconds that I've been on here) about the background I chose when I first started this blog: blank notebook paper. At the time, I thought it was fitting because I was treating this blog like an online journal, which it still basically is. I write whatever comes into my head, and I don't particularly care if it shows off my writing prowess (if I have any); I'm just focusing on being honest with myself and keeping track of where I am in my life right now.

On the other hand, a blank piece of paper may sum up my current state better than I'd like. A blank paper just sits there, staring at you, daring you to take a pen and write on it. That pen won't be erased like a pencil will, so you had better be sure of what you choose.

I'm having an English Class moment: pen is to paper as choices are to life.

Or something like that.

Basically, right now I'm not so sure what direction I want to take with my life. In high school, I was one of the few who knew what I was going to study by the time I was a sophomore, but now... I'm a bit lost and my life is staring at me like that piece of paper. It's empty, blank, ready to be written on.

If only I knew what to write.