an·ec·dote

Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Memories, Peace, Personal, Relationships

I’ve gone through a lot of traumatic experiences since my freshman year of high school. They haven’t just gone away, either. They follow me. My parent’s divorce at the beginning of high school was really the spark to the huge wildfire. They neglected Riley and I, meaning I wasn’t involved in school or doing the things I should have been getting done.

When I should have been taking driving lessons, my mom was moving about two-hundred miles away into an apartment with her then boyfriend. She left us with her parents, but no one was really keeping track of us or helping us do what should have been getting done. I should have been practicing driving, should have been in therapy, and someone should have been reprimanding me. I didn’t have any of that, though. I had free range of doing whatever I wanted to do, and sadly none of it was responsible.

I spent most of my days doing homework, yes. But I also would stay in bed crying all day because I felt like my parents had abandoned me. I never saw my dad and my mom’s contribution was messaging me on facebook. Ultimately, I was alone.

Instead, I was seeking attention elsewhere- so the summer of my senior year, I ended up being raped by a man. I couldn’t tell anyone because I was seventeen and he was twenty-one. I felt like I had in some ways allowed it to happen, and to this day I couldn’t press charges just because I feel responsible. I missed my period for two months and thought I might be pregnant, I spent two months thinking I was going to have to tell my mom what had happened. Luckily it was stress-induced.

That October my mom’s ex-boyfriend got a little too aggressive with my sisters and I, so we laid an ultimatum on the table for my mom; Him or us. It wasn’t the first time he had pushed the line, numerous times he physically pushed us around or used his authority as an adult to control us. He also abused my dog because she would growl at him.

She chose him, we moved out. I had just started my first job, and the only place I knew we could go last minute was with a girl I knew from school. She and her mom lived on a decent size of property and they seemed very wholesome, I figured it would be a great place to heal. We didn’t communicate very well, though. After six months we had a falling out, both parties involved were at fault. But we had to move out.

So we found a place on craigslist with a single dad who needed help with the rent, it ended up being amazing for us.

This whole time, though, I was going to high school and having to walk around 10 miles a day just to go to school, work, and home. I had no room for fault because I needed to graduate and I needed to keep my job. I didn’t have a car or the means of getting one at that point, so I just kind of dealt with it. We were barely scraping by, and some weeks we didn’t have any food at home. I remember one night we had both worked over eight hours, I walked home late, and we had no food or money. But we had a can of black beans. No can-opener. No heating or any kind. So we used a pocket knife to cut open the can and made foil spoons. That moment humbled me.

It doesn’t matter where you come from, it doesn’t matter who your parents are, or what kind of car you drive. Any of us can find ourselves in a position where a single can of cold black beans with a little salt seems like a gift from God.

I applied to universities all over California and was accepted to San Francisco State. I decided to go there and pursue a technical writing degree, which on paper was a great thing for me to do.

I moved to the city, and I knew no one. My roommate spoke french, and the other four guys were either high, playing video games, or hiding in their makeshift pillow fort. I had a job as a barista in the tenderloin, and that alone was intimidating for me. The homelessness was a serious issue, and they were aggressive. I had to follow my survival instincts while I was there. Completely ignoring the ones who confronted me. However there was one homeless woman who would wait outside the shop before we had opened. We talked, her name was Ella Mae and she had three kids. Two sons and a daughter. I could never make out all of what she said because her voice was dry and her words were slurred, but I saw a glimpse of humanity in that woman. The last two months I was there, Ella Mae didn’t come around- it wasn’t until my last day there that I found out from my favorite regular that she had a heart attack and had been in the hospital. I was happy to have an answer but upset that she was struggling even more than she had to.

My time in the city was amazing for me and helped me grow to a point where I could clearly see what I should be doing. I was suffocated by the overcrowding of people, by the fast-paced life, and by the constant displays of wealth everywhere. It’s not something that San Francisco is known for, but it’s riddled with sports cars and because of the guy I dated, I was surrounded by people who had a lot more than me.

Of course, my apartment was anything but. I love it for what it is, but it always smelled like bad broccoli and weed. It was always way too hot, and really unpleasant. My male roommates would stay up until 4am, when I would be getting up for work, partying and drinking like there wasn’t a care in the world.

I honestly wish that could have been my college experience. I just get so caught up with life that important things like financial aid gets put on the backburner. Because of that, and a breakup, I ended up dropping out of SFSU and going back home.

My mom had broken up with the abusive ex and offered me a place in her apartment, so there I went. When I was still in the city I had half-jokingly applied to a job at a popular donut shop back home as a creative baker. I didn’t even know what the job implied exactly, I didn’t know the experience I would have needed, or how much I would be paid. But I applied for the hell of it.

I ended up getting the job, and here I am. A creative baker who, hopefully, will never have to work in customer service again. I sincerely enjoy my job. I can’t wait to be able to do it without asking a million questions, though.

After everything that I have gone through, I want to have inner peace. I want to enjoy every day that I am alive. Of course, this is a journey, last night I found myself curled up in a ball crying for no reason at all.

But I’ve been doing art again, painting and drawing- it feels good to re-open that part of me. I’ve also been way more open to exploring different fashion styles and being more of myself. It turns out the way I have always wanted to dress actually looks cool to other people too.

I’m sorting through my emotions, trying to understand myself. I never will, and I have accepted that- but there’s something about the act of trying that keeps me balanced.

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off·beat

beautiful, Beauty, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal

So this post is for me, literally no agenda. I had a secondary interview today at a donut bakery. I was worried about how things were gonna go, I knew was going to need to write with a piping bag and dip donuts and whatnot. I had never done those things before- I also really wanted the job.

What if my ideas weren’t original enough, what if my piping was sloppy, what if my personality lacked?

I was thinking about how I’m not vibing with my current coworkers, wondering if it really was just me being uncomfortable. I started to get concerned about if I was able to get along with others.

But then I walked into the kitchen. The air in that place was lighter. Suddenly being myself was effortless, there was no stifling energy, there were no negative/pretentious ass holes. Seeing the different ingredients physically brought a smile to my face- I felt boundless opportunity and I felt alive. I felt like I was where I needed to be.

Suddenly I felt like I did when I was little, throwing ingredients into a mixing bowl and putting them in the oven to see how it would cook. Experimenting with different recipes, writing them down and sharing them with family. None of them were any good, and I knew that. But something about the act of doing these things, no matter where I was in life or who I was close to, baking was spiritual. It’s an act that continually brings me closer to myself and others. I hadn’t been that excited about a job ever.

Nothing could have brought me back down to earth. In that moment, I was ecstatic.

I know my piping came out a little sloppy and there wasn’t a clear sheen on the icing after I dipped my donuts, but I got the job.

I got the job.

I am going to be decorating donuts at an amazing, quirky, fun donut shop. I really didn’t think I would get it- but I did. And now I can live out a passion and dream of mine, even if it entails waking up before the sun is even close to rising- I’m excited.

I hope this is the beginning.

I think I’m going to attend a culinary arts school and pursue this passion of mine seriously. I don’t just want to see where this takes me, I want to take the reigns and lead my life in a direction I would be proud to live.

It reminded me that I want to get a nice camera and start photographing the things I find beautiful. I want to capture the things that I look at daily that take my breath away and remind me of why I love to live. I want to capture the things that I look at and abstractly break my heart. I want to capture the nuance and captivatingly simple beauty of life.

i·so·la·tion

Future, Humanist, Journal, Personal

So Chet came over again last night, we didn’t sleep together, but we watched Netflix and fell asleep next to each other. He’s cute but I just don’t like him. It was super awkward, and he must think that I have the lowest sex drive ever, because I’ve refused to have sex twice now. Last night I woke up around 2am to him trailing his fingers down my back, but when I woke up I thought it was T. I realized it him wasn’t pretty fast, but it just made me want to cry. I wanted it to be T. It didn’t smell like him. He didn’t breath like him. He didn’t touch me the way T did.

So I asked Chet to go home at 2am, I feel like an asshole.

My heart hurts. I don’t want to go home, but I definitely don’t want to be in San Francisco without T. Going home makes sense, but I’m worried that I won’t be happy.

I just want to be in love again. Everything feels right when I’m in love. Right now I don’t. Everything feels so wrong. I feel so sad. I feel angry. I feel unsure. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing for myself by moving.

But the only thing I can say for certain is that I do want the peace I felt when dating T.

But I can’t have that. So I guess feeling disagreeable is just how I am going to feel for a while.

And that makes me angry. I can’t control this stuff. Nothing fucking feels right. I can’t even find music that I like listening to right now. I’m mad about everything. I’m mad about stuff ending, I’m mad about the future, I’m mad at the past, I’m just so goddamn angry that things changed.

This isn’t like me. Normally I just accept shit for what it is. I move on. I gain insight.

But I’m just fucking mad right now. I honestly want to yell as loud as I can. I want to punch shit.

Right now anger is turmoil. Hysterical dread. Annoyed and resentful. Hostile. It is agony. Isolation. Grief.

I am angry. I am sad. I am afraid.

I guess that’s why I keep having Chet over, he holds me. At least that helps ease the sadness sometimes. It helped me for a little bit, but I know it’s just a bandaid for the real problem. I don’t want to be alone again. I didn’t fucking want any of this pain. I felt so stable.

I don’t know what I’m angry at. The world? The fact that pain exists at all? At change? At hope? Maybe a little of all of them.

I am tired of struggling. I am over feeling drained.

dis·so·nance (4-1-2018)

Awareness, fathers, fuck you, Future, home, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Have you ever done something and not really understood why you did it? As your hand approaches your mouth with the pills weighing in your palm, and that voice inside your head is saying don’t, yet they make it into your mouth and you swallow anyway.

When you’re standing outside at four a.m. and heavily intoxicated because you have succumbed to your desire to fit in and an Uber costs $30, so you walk across town to get home while your sister is busy fucking the guy where you had been sleeping not even thirty minutes before. Before you walk home, you kick his car. A lot. and dig out your keys, leaving grooves because you’re angry that no one loves you.

The guy you have loved for the last seven months would rather lead you on and never commit because he wants to be able to fuck anyone he wants. But you love him and have lowered your standards so much that even if he has sex with someone else you would still cover up his mistakes. The line is drawn at emotional attachment now.

You run home, and when you would normally feel pain in your lungs, this time you’re so numb you cannot feel it. You slowly approach the porch, quietly walking now so as to not wake your landlord.

In your bathroom, five a.m. and there is a knife sitting to your right on the floor. Why doesn’t anybody care about you? You pick it up.

Your mom’s response to your university acceptance was “fuck you”. Your dad hasn’t talked to you in months. Your sister, who you depend on, you woke up to her making out with a guy in the same bed as you.

You’re sitting on the bathroom floor of a place you pay for with money you made from sweeping popcorn up in theaters and cleaning shit up in public bathrooms. You put the knife down, you have worked too hard to end here. You have worked too hard to give up because your family doesn’t love you.

University is on the horizon; your future, beginnings, everything you have ever looked forward to. It is coming. You know you’ll be broke, but you’ve been emotionally broken for years – and being financially broke is nothing when you have your freedom.

Moral Dilemma

beautiful, Beauty, Creative Writing, Future, Humanist, Journal, Nature, New, Personal, Poetry

It feels as though the world is lapping at me,
Eating away at my heels as I try to make my way.

Like a rock on at the edge of the ocean,
Never getting a break from the endless torture
That is the ocean’s softly beating wave.

Back is sore, feet bleeding, hands callused
I’ve held on this far, but I was never promised an end.

Not a moment goes by as I brace to the cliff
that letting go isn’t considered,
but if I do, the cliff will fall,
Cascading into the ocean.

Atop this cliff, a child sits, their fate is my decision.
I can hold on, turn into to stone
As the water relentlessly beats me with its salty hand
Or I can let go, and let the ocean guide us into the world
of eternal night.

My Perfect Partner: Revised

Atheism, beautiful, Beauty, equality, Family, feminism, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Partner, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, science, Small Things, Smiling

About five months ago, on august 1st of 2016, I wrote a post about my perfect partner. While most of it is still true, I wanted to revise it. After going through my last relationship, some updating needed to happen.

My perfect partner would be taller than me, pretty fit or small, kiss really well. Someone who is sexual, and understand the appeal of large cities. Someone who would be down for adventure at any hour. They would remind me of what I love when I am sad. Preferably would have brown or dark hair, would wear leather shoes (probably oxfords or sandals). High libido. They would play chess, read for leisure, cook occasionally. Someone who would appreciate music with foreign lyrics and instrumental pieces. They would have the desire to see the world, to go places. Someone who loves foggy weather, as well as the rainy days. They would share my nerdy side, loving Lord of the Rings, Sherlock, The X-files, or whatever I’m interested in then as much as me. We would share the same taste in music and humor, I mean, a relationship with puns would have to be a good one. They kind of need to love sushi, because it’s literally my favorite. They would be an open-minded person who looks at (and doesn’t ignore) facts, someone who uses reasoning and skepticism to come to conclusions. A critical thinker, an intelligent being. Their occupation would be in a field of science or art, they would be a logical person with soft emotions. They would be passionate and caring, interesting but not a douche, kind but not in a delusional way. Ethically, I would see in them what I aspire to be. They would aspire to know everything they could, never stop learning. Someone who wants to make a change in the world, who is as crazy as I am in thinking that we could actually make a difference – but they don’t let that stop them.

Someone who would understand that I have my many emotional issues, and they wouldn’t guilt me for having them. They would understand that sometimes I need to be loved. Someone who wouldn’t mind my spam texting them, or that I over analyze the simplest of things. They wouldn’t mind that I can overreact to things, because let’s face it, I can make a lot of issues for myself. They would understand that I have a difficult time loving people, that I have a difficult time trusting someone after that trust has been broken. They would understand that I am a person who fluctuates in everything: emotions, weight, ideas. I’m constantly changing and don’t like settling.

Most importantly, we would want to make a relationship together work. We would make the other feel at peace, and loved. There will be no “if we’re still together then”, there would be trust and mutual satisfaction. There wouldn’t be that looming sense that one day we would break up.

I feel the intense desire to be in a long term relationship with someone like this. Surprisingly, nothing drastic has changed in the last five months, but a lot of little things were not the same anymore.

And of course, we would have to love each other.

I Simply Loved You

Future, Humanist, Journal, Love, New, Personal, Relationships, Smiling

Everything sucks balls right now, but in all honesty I think I’m done caring about this. I don’t want to analyze anything, I don’t want to worry about Talon, I don’t want to read into anything I see him posting on social media. He’s not my concern anymore, and even though I love him (I likely will for some time) it isn’t worth my time or emotions to sit around crying and moping or even just caring about what he is doing. It’s simply doesn’t make sense if I want to get over him faster.

So Talon, if you’re reading this – I love you, but if you wanted me in your life, you had your chance and didn’t take it. I’m not going to waste another day wondering what went wrong, why we didn’t work well together, because I have so much ahead of me now and in this moment I don’t have to compromise any of that for a partner. Right now I could be that world renown journalist traveling anywhere her heart desired, or I could still go to Harvard and become a lawyer, I could go into theatre, I could live in a big city, all of the things that didn’t seem possible dating you. I don’t want to be tied down, and I never did. I’m too flirtatious, too adventurous, too outgoing to be held back this young. I need my freedom and my charisma to take me farther in life – and my boyfriend when I was a junior in high school is not going to do that.

I can love you and not be a whimpering mess, because I do not need you. I never needed you. I simply loved you, and love isn’t going to stop me from smiling.

Things That Make Me Happy

beautiful, Beauty, Future, Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, Nature, New, Peace, Personal, Small Things, Smiling

Waking up well rested before 10am
Listening to a song that gives me chills
Seeing a good piece of art
Plants
Dogs that are excited to see me
When my nail polish dries smooth
When the teacher says there’s no homework
Making inside jokes with old friends
Painting with watercolors
When I’ve mastered a song on the piano
The sound of a creek on a warm day
Making forts in orange groves with my friends
Knowing I have no where to be and nothing to do the next day
When I look in the mirror and think I’m beautiful in the morning
Baking
A really good kiss
Hugging for long periods of time
Writing letters to friends
The first cup of coffee in the morning
When it rains, and the smell of dirt roads afterward
Navel Oranges
Cats, when they hold onto your finger and nip at it
The way candle flames dance in the wind
Lemonade during summer
A cold pool
The satisfaction of finishing a book
When I think about everything I have accomplished
New journals
When I’m first falling in love, being obsessed with knowing every detail about the person
Seeing kids play together, making up stories
Doing something outrageously adventurous
Doing what feels right, supporting what feels right
Getting and giving gifts
Christmas – the food, the weather, the friends and family
Sitting by warm fires with my dog, feeling the heat lick at my skin
Camping with my family
Taking hikes in the mountains and seeing new things
Standing in front of the ocean and feeling the breeze catch my hair
When I’m alone and the song I’m making up flows perfectly
Getting out of the shower and all my makeup came off
Fantasizing about traveling the world
When inspiration hits and I do ten projects in one day
When my room is clean and organized
Seeing old happy couples doing simple things together
Watching babies laugh
Fridays
When I feel how much someone cares about me
Learning something interesting
Getting good grades
A good cup of tea
Christmas music
Looking at nature
Loving people
Watching people in big cities go through their day
Looking put together
Organizing messy places
Cleaning something that was really dirty
When I can take care of myself
Seeing happy families
Watching dads spend time with their kids
When someone lets you into their life
Caramels
Outfits that remind me  of why I get dressed in the morning
New jars of peanut butter that’s smooth at the top
Smiling so wide my cheeks hurt, laughing so hard that my ribs ache
Watching people do what they’re passionate about
Making playlists
Wrapping myself in warm fuzzy blankets on cold days
Doing what scares me, what makes me uncomfortable
Being so passionate, loving something so deeply that it never fades
Dark chocolate with sea salt
Attractive people
New bras
When someone understands me
When someone is genuine

At The End of The Day

Blame, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, feminism, forgotten, fuck you, Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, no trust, Personal

Who does Bryan think he is? To come downstairs and start raising his voice at me in my house, on the one day I have off from school and other activities.

Sure, our house wasn’t clean, but I was going to clean it. I made a To Do list and cleaning the whole house was on there..

But instead of rationally discussing the fact that there was a dirty pan on the stove and the floor could stand to be swept, he yelled at me. He threw something across the room and saying “go ahead and run away” as I packed up my things so I could do my homework in peace.

On that note, I shouldn’t have to fucking worry about being able to do my homework on a saturday when it’s just me there with my moms boyfriend. I shouldn’t have to think twice about having to come home when it will just be him and I there. He can’t control his temper, he has anger outbursts. He spanks kendra out of anger when Riley and I have expressed our discomfort with it, when we have talked to our mom and told her how we feel.

I shouldn’t have to feel like my mom won’t listen to me because she will automatically take sides with Bryan. She doesn’t hear what I have to say, or she does but she doesn’t care that her boyfriend makes my life uncomfortable. That he makes me uncomfortable in my own home.

I am valid in feeling like my mother’s boyfriend should not raise his voice at me when I am alone with him. I am valid in feeling that my mom does not care about my emotions when she sides with him. Just because my mom does not agree with me, just because my mom does not hear me, just because my mom is choosing to stay with a man who has hurt all of her children, does not make my opinions, feelings, or ideas invalid.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who wants her mother to care about her.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who could really use a parent with good judgement.

At the end of the day, I just want to feel like someone has my best interest at heart.

Dirty Dishes and Climaxing

Family, Future, Journal, Love, Memories, no trust, Personal, sex, Sexuality, Uncategorized

To say that I am confused or that I don’t understand the things that have happened to me would be an understatement. I believe that under all the stress and mental illnesses that have crept in and hijacked my mind, I am still happy somewhere in there. To find that happiness again will be a major task, and I’m willing to take it on.

If I could have one wish granted, it would be for clarity and understanding of the problems I have at hand.

I have felt overweight and cumbersome this last week. When I imagine myself walking down the stairs, I feel like an overweight walrus and I can feel the fat on my thighs jiggling. I can’t wear anything but loose clothing because my stomach looks enormous and this all started when my mom mentioned that she saw me binge eating.. I hadn’t done that in a long time, but I did that once and ever since I have felt like my entire body is made out of lard.

My sister stormed out of the house today and drove two hours to stay with her boyfriend, and none of us are sure if she’s moving out or if this is temporary. My mom was in tears all night, she cried on my shoulder… Someone else’s wet tears on my bare skin is an uncomfortable feeling.

I’ve been through so much, what I’ve learned is that I do not like being alone. I cry when I’m alone. I hate myself when I am alone. I get angry about the mistakes I’ve made and scream when I’m alone. I yearn for companionship and to be loved when I am alone. If I had an instruction manual, it would say that I require partnership 24/7 and to be intensely cared for without me realizing it – once I am aware that someone loves me, I stop loving them. I detached myself and become emotionless toward them.

When I love someone and find out they love me too, it’s like maintaining masturbation when people are awake. You know you’ll have a hard time climaxing just because your little sister is screaming and your mom is yelling about how no one does the dishes – and any chance you had of continuing with pleasure goes down the drain because dirty dishes and climaxing are not compatible.

That’s what happens when someone loves me. I can’t maintain my feelings. They go away without any chance of revival, unless scenarios change.