Where Are You?

fuck you, Her, Journal, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships, sex, sexual harassment, stalker

I started going to therapy, so far I’ve been twice. I’m not doing well. I’ve been increasingly more insecure and unhappy with myself over time – noticing things I hadn’t before and losing sleep over back fat or my stretch marks. I’ve been rejected, almost raped, and ghosted so many times now that I’m giving up on finding anyone worth being with. They’ve either fucked my sister or have confederate flags hanging in their room – or something equivalent. There’s the emotionally unavailable, the too eager, the borderline sexual assaulter, the one who loves too hard too fast and then it fades, the one who stays with me cause it’s convenient, the one who loves me but I don’t feel the same, the one who is way too old for me.

Where is the one who works with me? Where is that type?

I’m Fine

Creative Writing, Failure, fuck you, Her, Journal, Memories, no trust, Partner, Peace, Personal, Relationships

Tears dropped from her eyes, “I’m fine,” no one was there to hear the statement “I’m fine” desperately repeated in a hysterical plea.

How could she be fine? Her grandfather lay in the ground, deep in a concrete hole. She felt sick – Their last goodbye would always be that; Their last. 

“I’m fine,” the words stuck to her lips like fly paper “I’m fine” a lump rose in her throat, her stomach felt like it was filled with acid.  

Her mother walked through the door, “Guess who hit goal today!” Completely oblivious to the breakdown the girl was having. “The sweetest older couple came in and bought two temperpedics!”

In that moment she realized how much she meant. That her mother’s job had more significance than her tears.

Later that night her sister asked to hangout, they would go driving and get Starbucks, and talk. Really, her sister would do the talking and tune her out if she said a word. Or complain that she never listened and used her for Starbucks because the girl didn’t have a job to pay – when she had been invited, said thank you, and apologized for not having the funds – when her sister had insisted she get something and upgraded her drink from a grande to a venti without asking – but then blamed her. 

The sister would talk about cheating on her boyfriend of the time, about going out and partying, and when the girl didn’t respond with “Ooooh, take me!” She was met with a glare, and asked why she was being judge mental.

Like she was supposed to support getting wasted and cheating – but she loved her sister. She didn’t want her to feel like she was taking advantage of her.. She went out with her sister because it was the only time they spent together anymore.. Even though she felt used and unwanted, she went because it was her big sister. She loved her more than anything else in the fucking world.

“I’m fine” she laughed when she passed her ex on the freeway, making eye contact. 

“I’m fine” when she slept with someone who she barely knew

“I’m fine” when she got an average SAT score

“I’m fine” when the dude who ghosted her popped back into her life and disappeared again.

But the world was crippling her, weighing her down when she realized just how average and mediocre she would become. When she realized she would be like her parents and barely be able to afford to pay the bills. Questioning her ability to survive when she was already thinking about how to kill herself, and had been for the last six years. 

Thinking about her dead grandpa, realizing one day she would die and there nothing she could ever do about it. 

She was anything but fine, in a world that masked and beautified anything terrifying. She felt lost, but didn’t want comfort. She wanted assurance, she wanted answers that didn’t exist, but most of all she wanted to feel loved, when no one had ever taken the time to make her feel cared for.

I Dream of Saints

bisexual, feminism, Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Personal, Relationships, Smiling

Here I am, writing again. Releasing my experiences through my fingertips and into the vast internet to be consumed. This time I express conflict. My perplexed nature as I encounter this modern sensuality. Conflict of my mind and actions – this disassociation of my heart and psyche.

I see her, and I am permeating with joy. Though I do not love her. At least not in any measure that I have ever encountered. This is a new, colorful feeling.

Last night I dreamed of her. Meeting at night, we kissed – but when my mom caught us she said she would find what I loved most and take it from me, simply to make my life miserable.

There is this fascination that follows her – it’s alluring and seductive. Nearly magnetic.

Trying to take things as slowly as possible, I’ve agreed that we shouldn’t seek any relationship. It would be a lie to say I didn’t care for her, though. She inspires me, invokes curiosity. Happiness.

Nonetheless, I want to be single. I rush into relationships far too often, and find myself regretting it 9 times out of 10. Allowing for my emotions to fog my judgement. Trying to avoid regret and heartbreak, I’m allowing for the world to let things fall into place.

Why are you a bitch?

feminism, Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Personal

I’ve had this internal struggle recently about the kind of person I am, which is natural for  a seventeen year old.

I apologized to Megan, or better known on this blog as the “bitch-faced-cunt”, because I started feeling like I was living a very bitter life.

I don’t want to be a bitter person, and so I apologized for the way I treated her – which I had done because I was drowning in hormones, disorders, and the effect of my parent’s divorce.

So now, when I’m annoyed at Ashlyn, I start wondering if she is just the new Megan. I don’t want another person like that in my life – someone who I just hate. But I feel the same way about Cheyanne as well. They just really annoy me.

But it’s because they’re inconsiderate of other’s feelings and are fucking judgmental as hell.

Like, Ashlyn told me that she thought my sister wore too much make-up. The other day, she made a comment about the way I was signing yearbooks at school and she always comments on the clothes I wear or how much makeup I have on. She bothers me because she acts like she’s a better person than everyone else, when she really isn’t. She’s not nicer, she’s not more moral, and I don’t think she should be acting like she has something no one else has. Sure, she is intelligent, but intelligence doesn’t make her superior. Fuck, I know I’m intelligent – but in no way do I think that makes me better than anyone else.

We are all people, who have emotions and a desire to be loved. Fuck her for being a cunt about thinking she’s the best all the time.

I feel like we all know an Ashlyn – someone who acts holier than thou. Well I have a message for them, they can go fuck themselves.

But does that make her a new Megan?? Because I really do not like her – but I don’t want to be a bitter and hateful person. I don’t want to drive away my friends because I’m always complaining.

I want to be a nice person, someone that others can trust. I want to be the person that makes people feel welcome and loved, when it feels like everyone else is icing them out.  I want to be kind to even those I dislike – and in all honesty, I have been kind to Ashlyn (most of the time). I smile at her when I see her in the hall, even though she has probably only smiled back at me once and I talk with her and laugh at her jokes and never make petty remarks to her..

But then does that make me two-faced?

See, this is what I mean when I say I’m conflicted by my thoughts and actions.

I don’t like her, but I want to be kind to her because I want to be a decent person, so I end up being nice to her even though on the inside I’m making fun of her.

Also, she says she doesn’t like her vagina – who says that sort of thing?? And I feel bad that she would be so open about hating her own vagina. It makes me wonder if she is just very insecure and is begging to be approved by others. In that event, I would honestly feel bad for her. If she is so desperate to be loved by others that she would act out this way, I want to help her feel loved.

Godless Life

Athiesm, beautiful, Creative Writing, fuck you, Her, home, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, Peace, Personal, Relationships

I’ll admit it, I’m happy they broke up – because for a short while I loved him.

I mean, who likes to feel replaced?  Who desires to see someone they would confide in become attached to someone new? not me.

Never me.

I may have disagreed with him on everything, he may have been an asshole at times, but I cared deeply for his shitty ass.

I hate that I cared, but I can’t help how I felt toward him.

But there he is. Sitting in front of me again, his gross hair that flips out at the bottom, his thick red jacket (the one that’s extremely fuzzy on the inside, the one that would keep my hands warm on rainy mornings before AP Psych). He got new shoes, I still wear the watch he gave me. a few weeks after we broke up he wore the leather bracelet I gave him, I wonder if he still has it. Why do I care? If he honestly came to me to make amends and try again I wouldn’t take him up on it – he hurt me too much.

He lied.

He dated Felicia.

He let me meet his family, when he knew he didn’t love me.

I loved him.

I could tell he didn’t love me.

I ignored it.

I’ll admit  it, as shitty as it makes me, I was happy when I found out his relationship wasn’t happy – I didn’t care that much if he loved her, I just was happy she didn’t love him.

He’s christian again,

lives with his crazy dad,

probably going into the military.

I’m atheist as fuck,

want to go to university,

I want to travel and live a godless life.

A life of love, of friendship, of tidiness and sex.

I want to burn candles on rainy days,

sleep in on Sundays,

read case studies and policies while drinking black coffee,

eat pomegranate seeds and avocado toast –

White bed spread.

Black bookshelves.

Wall of windows overlooking Seattle.

Seeing a therapist every Tuesday.

A clean fridge.

A white cat, miniature dachshund.

My godless life.

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

An Apology for her Neediness

Blame, Future, Her, Hope, Journal, Love, Memories, New, Partner, Relationships

Thinking back on our relationship, I started seeing things that I wouldn’t have payed attention to before, I didn’t know they would mean something later on.

I was so much more emotionally invested than you, wasn’t I? I cared more about meeting your mom and family, I cared more about how I made impressions, and I think that you knew that we would inevitably break up, and so you didn’t care as much about those things. You didn’t even bother to try seeing me on New Years even though I had told you prior that it was important to me – you did the same thing when I invited you over to see Nate.. Was your dad’s house just an excuse? If I hadn’t asked to talk to you and made it sound so urgent, would we still  be together? Could we have been happy?

No.. We wouldn’t have been.

I want you to know that I did try – I took Riley’s advice about not breaking up just because a few bad things happened, to actively try to make the relationship work.. I don’t think you ever wanted to try and make things work. I think that you didn’t take it seriously.

I didn’t want to just be your girlfriend when you were a senior, I wanted to be with you for a couple of years.. I wasn’t planning on breaking up with you like I had done before – I wanted to stick it out. And guess what – we lasted just under 6 months together. My first relationship was longer. Your relationship with Ashley was longer.

It’s ironic isn’t it? You didn’t work with her because she didn’t show you affection, and we didn’t work because I was too affectionate and needed too much affection.

I wonder if you’ve told your mom. If you’ve told Gage and Wyatt. I wonder if you have ranted about me to your friends on Xbox.

I went to SLO with my mom today, we talked about her old boyfriends and went through her old yearbooks – she couldn’t remember half of their last names. I realized how much you won’t matter in twenty years – that helped.

I never stopped loving Sam, I hope I stop loving you.. I don’t want to have to deal with this pain too often.

I’ll get over this soon. I have a feeling you’re happier single anyway. No one to waste your time and money, no one to drag you around town during lunch.

My need for affection will be my downfall, won’t it? I wish I could have been less for you. I wish we could have worked. I liked your family, however quirky they were. I liked how you would get so invested in your games, how you would get annoyed at me. I liked your friends, and I could only wish they liked me too.

Maybe you were too important to me. I’m sorry.

They, Themselves, and I

Failure, forgotten, fuck you, Future, Her, home, Journal, no trust, Personal, school, Small Things

Yesterday was an insane and emotional day – it’s funny how one can mask their identity so easily while out in the public eye, it’s so convincing that they even believe it, and then the moment they get in the car, the mask melts away. They cry. They scream. The perfect mask they had acquired throughout the day, is meaningless.

The things that still hold meaning are what made them cry in physics, the things that are too deep for even their family to help with.

It’s when they’re last on the gym court during dodge ball and everyone is yelling at them to score and get everyone back in the game – yet they fail to. Losing the game.

It’s when their PE coach comments about how their tshirt is getting “looser” and that they are “getting better” at the mile — even though they still only got 9:30 on it. They know it’s not the best time in the world, and would rather not have her comment on it.

It’s when they’re in the car on their way home, and their mom asks how their day went, how school was, and they can’t even respond without a flood of tears ensuing.

It’s when they are laying in bed at 1:47pm and the next week they have finals and all they can think about is how calming death sounds. How easy it would be for them to just jump.

It’s when they’re sitting in the dressing room during rehearsal and they can’t allow themselves to think about themselves or how they’re going no where in life already, because the director instructed that everyone “check their baggage at the door” – they can’t let anyone know that their costume makes them feel ugly because every other princess in the show got a hoop skirt but them self.

It’s when they can’t allow their stories to become person, so they resort to talking about them self in the third person.

Complaining

Athiesm, Athiest, beautiful, Beauty, Blame, Failure, fuck you, Future, god, Her, Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, New, no trust, Personal, Religion, school, science

This last week has been hard.

I fell down a hill and ended up hitting my house. My whole body is sore.

I lost 10 points in PE because I couldn’t run the mile – my leg was too beat up, I hardly made it through the day walking between classes.

Also during PE: I ended up on a team with the two athletic girls (one of whom is in AP Lang with me —  let’s just say I embarrassed myself. My hair band broke, and my hair is at this really ugly length, it’s not quite above the shoulder, but it’s not really below it.. So, I was messing with my hair instead of trying to play badminton. I’m pretty sure they don’t like me now. Pretty sure I lost the game for us.

After PE, I had a physics test. Completely forgot how to solve one of the equations, even though I had studied an extra hour of unrequired materials in preparation two nights before. Of COURSE I forgot. The teacher gave me this look of disappointment, mixed with something related to anger and simply said “you knew this was going to be on the test.” and he was right. but I had also studied. I was understanding it. But then the test came and I was already having a bad day and the next thing I knew, I was out of his class and trying my absolute best to not cry at school. I can’t be the girl who cries at school again…

I’ve made a point to not talk about my family issues at school, or about anything negative that would set me apart. I don’t want anyone at school to know my past or present grievances.

But I still had a panic attack at school and hid in the bathroom stall, trying to control my breathing — those bathrooms seriously need loud fans or music because you can hear EVERYTHING that is going on in the next stall over. Seriously.

To top it off, we had vocal auditions that afternoon. Imagine singing, after having been so worked up, you had to stop yourself from crying.

The group did vocal warm ups together, and I’m perfectly comfortable singing in a group, but solos and I do not mix (at least not yet). And so when they asked me to do a solo part in the warm up, I nearly puked. I felt something lurch up from in my stomach, and lost my breath. Anxiety is great.

Then, that night was when I found out I had lice.

It was a wonderful day.

My sister is leaving for europe in four days.. She’ll be gone for a month. I’ve never been apart from her for that long. But she’s kinda pissed at me right now, and I hope things get better between her and I before she gets back..

She’s going to be gone for my birthday.. I’m turning seventeen in a month and two days.

Everything has me feeling so defeated. I don’t feel like I can cry anymore. I don’t feel like I can express my emotions without being judged. It hasn’t stopped me, but it makes me hesitant.

I want to feel pretty again. I haven’t felt pretty since I cut my hair. not really.. I’ll have moments of feeling attractive, but I don’t look in the mirror and think I’m beautiful. I would like to think that I’m pretty without my long hair, but I don’t think I believe that.

I feel so sick. Between waiting for the cast list to go up and my physics grade to go on Aeries, I really am not sure how I’m going to cope with all this stress.

Oh, and I decided to post this on facebook:

I wish I could have read this post early on, after my parents divorce.

I wish that people hadn’t excused what happened in our house as “God’s will” or even said that it was “for the better” — no. Definitely not.

Being mentally abused was not good, it hasn’t made me a better person in ways that I couldn’t have grown without it. I loath when I am told that it was a good learning experience or even that I am a better person because of it.

No. Abuse didn’t make me a better person, it’s stifled me in many ways emotionally and socially – and I would never tell another person that it was a positive thing if I learned that it had happened to them.

PTSD hasn’t made me a better person – I’ve become more understanding, yes, but that isn’t to say that it wouldn’t have happened without it. I have been told that it will allow me to walk a path of individuality because of I have it — while that may be true, the panic attacks that come with PTSD do not make me a better person. They hurt me. They stop me from performing as a healthy human being in social situations – that happened just today at school.

It’s okay for bad things to happen to us, and the “band-aid” idea that the bad things happen for a reason does more damage than good to a person who is in pain. Allow us to grieve, allow for our pain to show in ways that may be socially looked down on – crying, not smiling in public, or even just not looking happy 100% of the time – those things are okay. Being unhappy isn’t bad – it’s healthy if you’ve experienced something traumatic.

A lady who I used to know from church decided to comment on it. Mind you, I’m not friends with her on facebook. But this is what she said:

“I doubt God wants people to suffer. However, he can help you recover and use your experiences for good if you allow him to.”

My response: ” It wasn’t my intention to communicate that God was purposefully allowing people to be in pain – I was simply trying to say that when people pass off horrific events (such as car accidents and domestic violence) as “gods purpose” it can be a destructive mindset for those who are in pain. What we need is to be loved and accepted for where we are in life, and if where we are isn’t a happy place – then show compassion, acceptance and love us through our pain. If there is a god, I don’t believe he would be mean-spirited or “out to get people” – want to make sure I’m clear on that”

Her retort: “You KNOW there is a god. I understand where you’re coming from and I appreciate you shedding some light on how to best love those who are in pain.”

Oh wait. Sorry Mrs. Russell.. Sorry that I didn’t know what I believed and that I had to ask you.

But I didn’t ask.

And for the record, I don’t “KNOW” there is a god, so cool your tits. No one knows if there are any deities, or if there aren’t. So. Just. Chill.

Asking for It.

anti feminism, Awareness, beautiful, Beauty, Blame, equality, Failure, feminism, fuck you, Her, home, Journal, no trust, Personal, sexual harassment, stalker, Street Harassment

Adult men and teenage boys should stop following women on the street. Men should stop making unsolicited comments on women’s bodies. They should humanize themselves and the women they are doing these things to.

Today, the 8th of October 2016, a grown man followed me in his SUV. He consciously made the decision to follow a young girl, by removing his parked car from a parking lot to driving alongside her at a walking pace. This man, whoever he is, watched me walking and thought, “I should get her in my car”. I can’t allow myself to imagine what would have happened to me if he had gotten me inside of his SUV.

All this happened on the street I live on. He targeted me not even a block from my home. As I was walking, I realized I couldn’t go home – I couldn’t give him such precious information.

This was the second time a man followed me while in a car. This was the fourth time a man I was unfamiliar with has made an unsolicited comment about my body while in public. All of these things have happened this year. I am only sixteen years old. How much worse will this get as I get older?

It is disgusting that grown men can freely gawk at underage girls and have virtually no punishment.

In more than one way, I have been fortunate. I have only had these experiences during daylight. I have always been in moderately public places, and they have never used force or violence towards me. But those things have happened to other women, and I wouldn’t doubt that the men who have harassed me are capable of sexually assaulting, kidnapping, or raping their victims.

I am also fortunate that the police made no comment on my attire – they didn’t slut shame me for wearing a crop top, a short skirt, and wedges. They are taking my case seriously, despite the fact that they could get away with a simple “she was asking for it”. In fact, the two officers were very receptive and gave me a lot of comfort after the incident.

“Hey you!”
I turned. A man, in a car? Okay. Continued walking, crossed the street. Don’t acknowledge him, hopefully he’ll go away. Walking, I heard a car come up behind me. Is it him? It’s not him, don’t worry. This wouldn’t happen to you again. This stuff only happens like, once.. Right? The car came up from behind, it slowed down, approaching me. Nearly stopping, it crawled to a walking pace.”Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be walking,” he said “let me give you a ride.”
“It’s alright,” I said, “I don’t need a ride, thank you,” I looked directly in his eyes as I said the last bit.
He continued to follow me. Hoping he couldn’t see how nervous he made me, I refrained from wiping the sweat off my brow. Why isn’t he going away? I want him to go away.
“You really are pretty,” my chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe.
“Come on, let me give you a ride,”
Why? So you can rape me? He sped away, turning around just a little ways ahead of me. He stopped. Why did he stop? Is he waiting for me? Is he going to try to run me over? Is he going to get out of his car and try to take me? His car started to move again. I let out an audible sigh. Coming closer to me, I figured he would just drive away. Of course he didn’t. Approaching me again, he rolled down his window, “Hey pretty girl,” he waited for a response. I gave none.
“Okay, fine, be that way.” He was angry. Sped away.

I rushed home, tripping over my wedges, I nearly sprained my ankle. I just wanted to be safe. Never had I felt so alarmed when I could see home – my safe zone.

I made it inside, sat down in the sofa and looked at my door. A noise outside startled me. is it him? No. There were children’s voices. I was safe. But I couldn’t stop staring at the door. I got up to lock it, then proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom and look up harassment on my phone.