Let’s Go

beautiful, Beauty, Creative Writing, Future, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Nature, New, Peace, Personal, Relationships

Everyday I am alive, the realization that I have no idea what I’m doing sets in a little bit more.

That my anxiety is a hormonal reaction, and that everyone sees the world very differently.

I’m discovering how I want to see the world, and the person I want to become.
Seeing what makes me genuinely happy, figuring out how to deal with difficult people/situations, and the ongoing struggle to react in ways that represent who I want to be.

I’m finding that I need someone to love. There is an overwhelming amount of love inside of me that I want to give, paired with my extensive barriers that my experiences have created. It’s near impossible to trust when I have given so much love to find that I was being used. Naïveté in it’s purest form, to love someone who has no intentions of loving you back.

I also have the need to travel, to go somewhere that no one speaks my language and I’m scoffed at for being american, and to taste food that was prepared farther away from my home than I have currently been. I want to ride a plane across the ocean, look out the window and be afraid. I want to skydive, ride in a hot air balloon, bungee jump, and watch the sunrise in India while a bustling city wakes up below me. I want to sip a latte in Paris as it rains, eat a orange in the south of France, kayak in Greece, I want to see and go everywhere.

I want to learn how to love running and to be someone the weak envy.

I want to eat avocado toast for breakfast with a cup of black coffee everyday at five-thirty in the morning before I have to go to work.

I want to save money, and have a life I am proud of living.

That is really what I want. To be proud of my life. Escape limiting beliefs and achieve everything my heart desires. I know I can. I will.

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Caring Too Much, as per usual

Blame, Failure, fuck you, Journal, Partner, Personal, Relationships

I’m bitter toward those who reject me – but who the fuck wouldn’t be?

Thinking about all the people who have turned me down really drowns out the ones who have obsessed over me.

God it hurts to think about all age times that a guy has told me he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings. Then again, I go through men like I breath air. It’s like a natural part of my DNA to not stick with one, but love them deeply and thoroughly for like three seconds.

I’m unlovable. Aren’t I?

Will anyone ever actually care about me?

I’m sitting in a Starbucks right now wondering if anyone will ever want to sit in front of me in one of these damn cafes for longer than five months. If they have enough love for me in them to last.

Part of me still loves every single one of the douche bags who has hurt me – I’m thinly spread out over so many people. It’s hurting me, I don’t love anyone who loves me back and this is starting to feel like a goddamn curse. Fucking stupid curse, at that.

I just want someone who cares about me for who I am, every last flaw. But there is literally no one out there who fucking cares about me like that.

Even the band kids have more self respect than to date me. They smell my desperation and I reek of passion no one desires  – they run. I need different goddamn pheromones or some shit.

I’m that girl who is alright looking, ya know? I’m like semi-interesting but narcissistic and no one is here for that shit.

I’ll be fuckin single forever unless I date a goddamn stalker.

Why is everyone so shitty.

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?

Used

fuck you, Journal, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships

I am an idiot. I knew he hadn’t changed, that I was being used. I’m hurt and irritated at myself for allowing this to happen.

If he had cared about me, he never would have ghosted me – let’s be honest about that for a second. He left and didn’t look back, the whole story about being intimidated by me was a rouse to win me over because he could see my skepticism. He knew I had been hurt and that the only way to get me to be his cure for loneliness he had to woo me with some fake ass compliments.

God, I am so stupid. Ashamed that I didn’t have the self respect to back out of this sooner. Frustrated that it got to the point where he wasn’t opening my snapchats or responding to my texts.

I must be one fun confidence boost for him, huh? Just message me when you’re feeling down about yourself because you know I’ll give you attention and respond in two seconds.

Fuck you, Jacob. Fuck your dumb ass stories and pleasantries. I need a punching bag and some healthy food to binge eat, I mostly need the goddamn punching bag, though.

You pop into my life when it suits you, respond when it suits you, are into me when it suits you. Well you know what I think suits you? Garbage. Go live on sunset blvd where you fucking belong, you scum.

What I hate more than feeling used is the fact that you used me, and how many other girls you have done this to. I cannot have been the only person you reconnected with or got ahold of because you were lonely.

Fuck you. Get a grip and start acting mature.

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.

Men Can Be Awful

Failure, fuck you, Journal, New, no trust, Partner, Personal, Questioning Sexuality, Relationships, Sexuality

There has been so much going on in my life – from guys to my sister moving back in to my grandpa passing away, and it’s all stressing me out a bunch.

My relationships with dudes have been less than great recently, first there was Charley – the dude I met online and seriously regret seeing because I had sex with him and like tbh I shouldn’t have and none of it felt right. Like, I should have known that anyone willing to drive from three states away to see me when they’d only known me for less than 100 days was gonna be sketchy. Like, I’m sorry Charley, but I’m also not because I was very uncomfortable and you did push me into things faster than I was ready and I’m sorry that you’re insecure and can’t handle me criticizing you at all.

After Charley, there was Kylan – we were just gonna be friends with benefits, but we hung out twice and I changed my mind post VCF-insertion and when my naked body was underneath his naked body and he was aggressively holding me down and forcefully giving me TOO MUCH tongue.

Then there was this weird run-in with Talon when I messaged him and was like “missing you” and he was like “Missing you too, but I have a girlfriend that I’m only dating cause I’m not over Felicia” and I was like “Talk to me when you are single” and he was like “I will” and we left it off like that and went to bed, but the next night he sent “Lol jk that’s never gonna happen” and I was like “LOL I’m happy you said that cause I was drunk last night”, but like I wasn’t drunk and totally did miss him.

Then The nEXT DAY – Mr. San Francisco JACOB fucking messaged me after ghosting me for a goddamn year. Like, this son of a bitch just hits me up outta the blue, responding to the last question I sent him this time last year, and like I was being super cautious and saying shit like “Um yeah well I’m not gonna send you nudes because self respect and also you ditched  me for an entire year and how will I know you won’t do that again?” and he was like “I’ve Changed”

news flash.
HE HADN’T CHANGED.

tHAT son of a bitch hasn’t spoken to me, responded to my last message or snapchat in two whole days.

I’m not gonna be all desperate like last time because I have far more self-respect. But, fuck him. Also, he is now Vegas Jacob, because he moved.

I am seriously considering if I’m bisexual or just lesbian – at least girls don’t fuck you over, I’ve never been fucked over by a girl, it’s why I don’t write about them on here.

And like my grandpa passed away last week. Tomorrow is his funeral. I don’t know how to respond to this yet.

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.

Look At Me

Blame, Failure, Family, fathers, forgotten, home, Journal, Personal, Relationships, school

There are more people who dislike me in the world than like me. I’m not even sure my own friends like me- who even are my friends? The people at the high school aren’t that close to me and the kids I did the musical with are like disinterested in me and the people at erclc don’t even care about me anymore.

Even the people who live with me don’t talk to me- it’s been two weeks since my mom’s boyfriend has even acknowledged my existence. He has been ignoring me when I’m in the same room as him and hasn’t look at me or said a single word to me since May 10th.

I feel like I have no one.

People don’t respond to my snapchats, they don’t respond to my texts, and last night Sam sent me a video of his friends saying i should fuck myself.

Perhaps I’m just a terrible person who does terrible things and it’s easy to hate me.

I came so close to killing myself last night. It feels like only three people in the world really care that I live and breath.

I’m temperamental, narcissistic, over dramatic, insecure, controlling – I’m a million terrible things combined into one shit storm of a person.

I’ve burned bridges with people because of my personality, I’ve hurt myself and others simply by being me. Why am I like this? I honestly believe that I am the worst person I know.

I’m a disappointment to my mom, I’m such a burden to her.

I was a burden to my grandparents as well.

And to my aunt and uncle.

Look at me, a fucked up human who people hate. A academically failing piece of shit who will never fulfill their dreams. Look at me. I’m awful. I’m just a plain bitch. I can’t even fucking do the dishes like my mom asks.

I haven’t changed. I’m still shitty. I hate myself.

I want loving parents who care about me. I want to be kissed on the forehead and for someone to make me tea before bed and I want someone to care that I’m suicidal. I want someone to tell me not to, to say that I have so much to live for and that they believe I can do it.

Instead, I have a mom who comes home and complains about work everyday.

I haven’t had a normal conversation with my dad since I was 13.

I’ve broken friendships and people are uncomfortable around me.

Look at me. Who have I become?

I Deserve To Love Myself

beautiful, Family, feminism, fuck you, home, Humanist, Journal, Personal

When someone has a kid, it’s understandable that they would want them to hold the same beliefs and ideals as themselves.

Though, after I had spoken up for myself, my mom turned to me and said “I would never have been allowed to talk to my parents that way” when I had just expressed that I disagreed.

I have my own opinions, and I won’t apologize for thinking for myself. I might not know everything, but neither do you. There’s a good chance that we are both wrong in our own right, though I would rather die knowing I stood up for my own thoughts rather than following you blindly.

She has threatened to take away my phone because she believes I have too much contact with the world around me,
She thinks my opinions are too radicalized and extreme,
That I am simply following the mainstream.

Rather, I’m plunging into the arctic cold water that is adulthood and with that comes autonomy.

I have the right to my own opinions and thoughts, she doesn’t have to agree with them, but punishing me for them? That’s wrong.

And that idea she brought up, about not being able to speak to her parents a certain way, aka disagree with them – I just don’t even know where to begin with it.

I expressed to her that I have self respect, and in having that I am willing to voice my thoughts without hesitation. Somehow she views that as entitlement.

In some fucked up way, she thinks that my “selfish nature” of loving and taking care of myself is uncalled for and a generational thing.

That wanting to go to therapy and wanting to eat fruits and vegetables is somehow entitled. I just want to take care of myself. I don’t want to be spoken down to. I don’t want to be hit. I deserve to love myself.