totalwreck

 Mental Profile

Oh wow where to start, let’s just give you a brief summary…there was cutting, bulimia, depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, anxiety, insomnia, bipolar disorder, panic attacks, almost suicide attempts, and then the newest one of eating disorders. Welcome folks to the infamous infinite lists of mental defects. It was all I used to talk about for a reason… now lets take a long and painful walk down memory lane. You be the judge of my level of insanity after reading this whole thing.

Here it goes, my inter therapist ready to come out. –Now in reflecting mode- Alright so it started with the summer of going into eighth grade. My sister was going to Italy , my other sister was going to New York , my brother was never home and my parents were always delirious…you know where this is going. That summer I got bored and depressed. Surprise, no I think not. Expected, since the guy that I had fallen in love with or might I say now, obsessed with just didn’t feel the same has I did…for two years. I felt like I had wasted a big junk of my life by that point, then summer came. Oh yeah by the way, that summer my parents had lied to me saying I was going on that trip to Italy with my sister and kept building up excitement in me until they crush me with the bad news that I wasn’t going a few days away from my thirteenth birthday…wonderful. Recipe for disaster. I knew it was too good to be true. That is when I started to live in this impatient ignorant theory that I was never going to get out of this place. Eighty percent of my life has been locked up in a room staring out the window…I felt stuck. –Sigh…and break mode-

Alright so I’m crushed so I start getting online a lot more. Find this place called buzznet, in replacement for a trip to Europe ; I get a video I-Pod. Which changed my life more than anything so far so I guess the outcome wasn’t has shitty has it seemed at that moment. Anyways, I get into rock and that whole emo scene garbage just because I was some “n00b” on a creative site about mostly music. So I was a teenie at first and of course didn’t realize it.. But I got over that whole “self pity is the shit” phase and gussied up a bit. But that’s when Katie was created. The other side, I must be suffering from multiple personality disorder also, because every time I was alone I would be my own worse enemy, my inner devil, and a crueler version of my dad. That’s when the self harm started. I used scissors the first time. Then razors became my poison, habit, addiction, whatever you wish to call it. I was back in school at the time. But Christmas was approaching and that’s when I started this Totalwreck account. I created has only an account for myself to write personal journals that nobody would read but then someone left me a note about how they could relate to one of my journals and it meant something to me that someone else actually could feel the same...

So I got addicted to this site, this account, the image of what a totalwreck should be. I was already fucked up I thought, I saw blood fucking running down my leg for god sakes… I thought there was no way back to a sane self. So I tackled my weight. Puked and cut one mental defect right after each other. Made little phrases like “ADFU” and I thought I was so badass. It stood for “Absolutely disturbed and fucked Up” go figure. Boy, you’re cool right, no. But I thought so, carved it into my skin. It’s scarred on my leg forever like a bad tattoo. Those letters don’t even cross my mind anymore…I can’t believe there was even a time when I would label myself with letters…boy, I was a loser. Bahaha. Anyways it was obvious I had depression but no one knew, no one was ever around and when they were they just pissed me off. –Shrug- Expected since I was seriously angry ninety eight percent of the time. Time past I kept this shit up.

Then came the salvation of writing, and I met someone absolutely amazing on this site that helped me those times that I cut a little too deep. Someone that was always a lot more shit faced than me…I painted the picture; she tilted the frame on its axis. We were a pair of suicidal destructive sisters. Her name was beauty, love, regret, and anger but she went by Erika. Her story is a bit more painful than mine, but I hold back the intricate details to myself still anyways, you know the drill. So I survived that summer with her help, there was a day I had gone over the edge just a little bit. But I lived; I took a smoke got over it. Sighed and the world didn’t stop spinning after neither. I’m too impatient to ever wait for a better day, that was my problem until the option was die or wait. I waited, it paid off.

But with depression came anxiety, the worst feeling ever. Trust me, it escalates then follows to the next problem; panic attacks. Ugh everything is cause and effect. My problems are all a chain. There’s no one solid reason for these mental complications, just a story…one thing leading to another. I use to break stuff when I got angry. Broke a mirror with my fist, used the shards has a weapon against myself. You don’t want to be me at thirteen or fourteen…

Once my anger got out of control again I got worried. I kept trying to stop cutting but kept relapsing. I couldn’t sleep after that too since I tried to write my life in my head. This was organized chaos. I made myself check things constantly out of fear of people finding things out about me. This is why I hide behind an Audrey Kitching picture and always will, and please don’t valve this entry any less than a person who parades all there hideous mistakes with a picture of there face, I’m still going through most of my shit still anyways. How could I show this face? Moving on, I’m crying alone hysterically in my brother’s room one day and for the first time I’m found. It’s my sister and she’s worried since we went to dinner and I was pissed half of the time there because they try to monitor everything that goes into my mouth…which was irritating and uncalled for. Weight was always an issue, I was never huge just never normal until now. That night my sister gets something out of me; I tell her that I cut. She’s about a year and a half late from the first time I’ve tried it but it’s now or never I’m guessing.

That day I also tell her I must be bipolar, she agrees. She’s observed, it was no secret that I something was going on with me. But they never knew the level of how serious it was…how far it almost got. That night before I told her was the last time I cut. I haven’t cut Since Dec 12 of last year. Which means it’s been 6 months, 1 week and a day; and considering the fact that I’m already trying to find scar removal treatment to move on like this horrific stage in my life never happened. Which is impossible since I’m scarred with this negative embroidery of dark hazy black linings on my clouds of raining frustration. I was over it.

My apologies for the novel by the way, I need to stop doing that…anyways I’m moving on. I’ve changed but I’m slightly the same. But my latest obsession has been weight. Such as starvation until I faint which is stupid yeah but it’s no different from most of the girls out there right now living life. I’m just the only one who’s writing a mental profile long enough to explain it. –Shrug- I don’t care to be honest with you. They all lied when they said it’s what on the inside that counts, when really the outside is the first attraction to everyone who isn’t blind. People do judge a book by its cover. I want to be opened, is that so bad? Everyone does. If I was skinny I would have the whole package, just a few months and if I’m still alive I’ll have the confidence to be openly shallow. Bahaha. Alright now you could hate me for speaking my mind. I don’t mind fucking myself up, but it’s a different story when it comes to other people so yes…I still do think of myself as a good person. Just someone who seeks problems to cover up the scraps of a boring life that I’m trapped in; suburban filth of cotton, plain vanilla sanded down wallpaper, walking past houses with white picketed fences and waving American flags. Just to cover up the perception of a simple girl who is playing a destructive seen in her head of when she burns this place down to orange burning color. Just to live a little until the addictions that I kept controlled in my mental profile, start to control me. I lose. (It’s the phrase I use for everything) I’ll get over it. Life is just an ironic joke. I drive myself into these complicated equations, I live to write the story of this tragic thing called boredom, it could lead to some pretty hazardous mistakes. Still no regrets though, I'm maybe more depressed but I’m surly more knowledgeable of these things called mental defects and I could still say this with an ironic contradictive smile on a beautiful face that isn’t mine, my imperfections are fucking perfect!

Tags and Questions

(Thanks for the tag anula333)

The challenge:  List 12 songs that cheer you up.

The rules:  Tag 8 people... then those people should tag 6 more after that

1)      Dear Prudence – The Beatles

2)      Today – Smashing Pumpkins

3)      Linger – The Cranberries

4)      Strawberry Fields Forever – The Beatles

5)      Anyone Else But You – Michael Cera & Ellen Page

6)      Under the Bridge – Red Hot Chili Peppers

7)      Bicycle – Queen

8)      Semi Charmed Life – Third Eye Blind

9)      Don’t Stop Believing - Journey

10)    Baba o’ Riley – The Who

11)     Ramble On – Led Zeppelin

12)     Stairway to Heaven – Led Zeppelin

I tag:

xxwentzfreakxx , breathfashion ,  answr2prayers ,  kristincollision ,  anapinkf , missktyn, petewentzgirl145 , musicobsesse321

Those are my eight and I’d be lying if I said that it was easy to choose, some were random but here is what I thought would work. Now I’m going to explain my other experimentation, I’ve never done this tagging or this question blog. But here’s the deal. Ask me anything, and I’ll try to give you my best answer. It could be about me personally or asking me for advice, etc. When I get enough I shall answer all of them. Yes ALL of them. One person can ask me infinite questions I don’t mind and trust me I’ll be 99.9% honest. So please fill this up with a ridiculous amount of questions and I’ll take as long as I can to answer them. Peace Out.

HIGHLIGHT TO READ.

In memorial to Heath Ledger and all my buzznet friends who have left over the past year and a half this is my list in tribute to them, 10 things I Hate About Buzznet.

1) I hate the confusion of scene and modeling. No Audrey Kitching’s not your ordinary model but just look at her, she’s got pink hair and an alterative edge. Scene is taking pictures with hello kitty dolls in your own bedroom. Modeling is taking pictures by photographers no matter what your style is in different sceneries with different sometimes uncomfortable poses (Gosh seriously open a fucking magazine for once). If it’s for a magazine, commercial or runway it’s called modeling. Her style doesn’t make her any less than a model nor whether she’s modeling for huge agency or low key stores you’ll find in a mall. Get that though you’re fucking small narrow mind you ignorant dumb shits. And a ‘scene’ contest...is enough to get me up in arms to say, it’s an encouragement to stereotyping. Scene is dead.
(P.S Stacey your 19 don’t be manipulated by an opinionated wannabe intellectual, why outcast Audrey when Hanna Beth, Raquel Reed, Lana Jade and Zui Suicide are all the same)

2) I hate the way things are centered on certain bands but it’s supposed to be about music in general. Let’s just say Panic! At the Disco oh wait accuse me Panic at the Disco, fall out Boy, My Chemical Romance, all those over played overrated bands anyways are treated like Gods on this site.. I love them don’t get me wrong but I’m not a fucking teenie but I know these bands attract them so much that I know I can’t complain when they come and write comments under my new Panic At the Disco picture like “Where are they and where are they going?” It’s labeled “Modern Abbey Road” You look up Panic at the Disco pictures and yet you don’t know who the Beatles are? Or how a Paramore fan can make fun of a rock God like Robert Plant, only on buzznet. How can you worship a band like Paramore and put down a person who was in one of the best bands ever?

3)I hate the way we have models being probably the most buzzed people on this site and how they never even mention fashion period. The one time they did they said leggings, handbags and every other good thing in fashion right now should fade in 08, again, open a fucking magazine!

4)I hate the fact that every other main story on buzznet is about Britney, Lindsay, or every other pre-Madonna, so does every other fucking website, get out of it be different and save your unreal rumors for good conversation starters. But I’m sorry I don’t want to find out who Lindsay Lohan slept with this weekend or what star decided not to wear underwear, sadly my local news station will probably have that covered within 2 hours instead of what’s happening with the presidential elections.

5)I hate the fact that everyone with a buzznet with pictures of themselves wants to be the next Audrey Kitching just because you have a good camera, colorful hair, and lots of eye liner doesn’t mean you’re an internet success.

(P.S no offense to Tara Mason A.K.A person in this picture. This wasn’t directed at her if anything people want to be the next ‘kill scene’)

6)I hate when people on here label themselves as emo then tell me a stupid sentence like “I can’t live if he’s not my boyfriend so I’m going to kill myself tonight” blah blah blah your whining is not even close to almost committing suicide, it’s more like you’re being an attention hungry loser which is the actual defintion of an “emo”, that wants me to give all my attention and waste my time because your selfish. (It’s happened at least five times in a little less than a year)

7)I hate the ones who take time out of there boring nothing lives to bash on things that they don't like to people who do like this something. For instance, it's like walking into a MCR fan club and saying that MCR sucks. You encourage a fight, and start a flame war. It's one thing to stay firm in what you believe in (like this whole list) or have an opinion on something but it's another thing to egg me on. *cough/chickens4life/cough* (a person who is actually smart but uses her energy to bash other people)

8)I hate the idea of cyber boyfriends, online dating like eHarmony suddenly got replaced by fake internet relationships. I suppose you can't cheat on this person neither. Who needs a real girlfriend when you can 'lol' and 'rofl' all night with this sexy cyber whore? *wink wink, pukes* It's called getting off your computer and finding someone who you can really care about if you want one so damn bad! P.S Ryan Ross is not your husband

9)I hate those internet hackers, or stalkers, fake Audrey Kitching's, Brendon Uries', Ryan Ross's and Hanna Beth's AND everyone who believes them. How thick can you get? Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross would be featured in seconds if they really did have an account. Audrey and Hanna already have accounts, which would be even stupider to believe! My best friend spoke to 'theofficialryanross' which was his username and we laughed at everything that he said after. Bless Erika's soul that she actually had to talk to this weirdo who would every now and then explain that he "had a show just yesterday" and he "was writing new stuff for the album" or that "brendon's right next to me now" which just made me 'rofl' myself.

10)Gosh and lastly, the thing I hate most. How buzznet has seriously changed. How everyone that was actually decent has left because of these, stalker, identify stealing, emo, scene, whatever you want to be labeled, people. People keep coming and going. But of course I'll never forget Erika, who is extremely amazing #1 on my top (which brings me to another problem, I mean come on, are we turning into another myspace?) Jill who recently got her journals copied by another identify stealing loser. (Jillanne84) read her journals there amazing by the way. Stacey, Laura, Rachel, Michelle, and Chelesa. There among that last reason that is both bad and good because I can't help but say, you can meet amazing people on this site. Regardless of any problem when you've got people like these you can still see past them all.

I’ve official lost my innocence. Months have gone by and I’ve done nothing but state preconceived notions that took me centuries to conclude. Use philosophies to get my answers and try to find a way of life but yet I have an idiotic foundation of existence. I bury my head under the sand. I yearn for things that later I evidently say I am not worthy of. I repeat the same mistake, never learning a single moral from my past.

More like losing faith, I’m an Agnostic which wouldn’t be such a big deal if I didn’t go to a Catholic high school and have an obsessive religious family. Been debating to stand for my beliefs, since other fourteen year olds think you’re too advanced if you have your own beliefs on religion and politics. Because I can’t comprehend it right? Because I don’t keep up with the presidential debates and look into multiple religions?  More like because you underestimate me as a naïve catholic fourteen year old girl, or level me to the rest of the immature children my age, never to see the person but the number. Never search to find who she really is (nothing that you assume). I’m the odd one out and always have been. Terrified of myself I always was since there’s no point in having a brilliant mind if you can’t express your thoughts with anyone else. Living in different places opened my mind to a bit, such as knowing that every community was there own world and think differently which is why the brilliant are usually the ones looked at as insane for being peculiar in there world until later they meet people in a different environment to confide in that think there ingenious. Everyone as a different perception of the world. Not everyone fits in the puzzle, sometimes not even if you try to bang and squeeze it in just right. Everyone as to try and find there own place to be admired, I still haven’t found mine.

Lately I’ve also opened my eyes to how unintelligent our world as gotten, lets leave all the decisions to “adults” who have the same brain capacity as the adolescent, if not even less. But no, let’s level ourselves down to have decisions made for us, or at least the ones that count most. What a shame. Our lifestyle is determined as soon as we’re born our religion for example, if you’re Christian you get baptized when you’re a baby and live out that life. Sheltered to not see another damn thing, its fear for your parents to know you’ve lost your faith and to not be a clone of them, to be grown and never repeat what they told you. It’s laughable to me, I come from a broken home and I thank the greater power that I don’t believe what they desire, because by doing that I make the world a sane place. Ha.

I don’t want to be perceived as egotistical for saying a have a brilliant mind because in all honestly I’m far from a genius, I’m just closer to what the ideal mind is supposed to be, wanting to increase your knowledge and be an individual instead of persecuting the ones that do, because those lowlifes are the ones stuck in there own world, poor them they’ll never get out.

Suddenly I’m able to make peace with all the people who have caused me grieve these past three years. I’m closing these memories and doors quickly, in hoping for the great chance of closure with past “friends” and loves. My journal is the home of very dirty words and thoughts with nothing left out and when I have a pen and paper with my mind wide open I write some pretty interesting views on people that I will never talk to again. The very pretty populars who come off as strikingly beautiful and skinny with no one to compete with there advance in politics and bulimia. The meathead boys, who come off as handsome with the loophole of being insanely stupid. The regulars, who would do anything to become apart of the beautiful popular clique which they’ve only seen the outside of. They’d abandon old friends and lick people’s feet for a chance at being with these other people. Human nature? Of wanting to be the center of many and being able to let go of your own human dignity. Pathetic. So at this time I don’t really mind to be harsh and blunt with these statements I tell. So here I am about to take you in on my journal head on. Here you go:

After logging on my best friend’s computer and discovering my other “friends” pages on that obsessive site myspace I realize how much worse these people were out of school. The girls in my school created kiddy porn with a few exposing pictures of themselves with no shame to post bulletins to check them out. A strong urge to vomit came over me and suddenly I was more than happy to not have a profile any longer. Three slutty girls had created a slideshow of there slightly naked bodies dancing in a shower for the simply reason of….nothing. It must have been the head girl’s decision since she had gotten naked every chance she got. How could anyone ever take them seriously? It was just so typical of little girls wanting to grow up so fast. At times like these I am so glad we parted. So here I am with a very great idea….closing doors and finally getting my peace on what I exactly think of these three girls. Now I go….this is for each and every one of them.

To the girl that used to be my best friend in the 6^th grade. Its funny how when girls age some get wiser and learn best and on the other hand some just get trashier and become blank of any dignity or common sense. Years ago you wouldn’t dare say a curse word now you’re so openly an internet whore. Good luck getting turned down by the notorious meatheads that oh so get your attention. They’ll never seem interested despite the pounds shed, the status you have been awarded, the many changes that have make you fake.

Now to the girl who was two faces. Years ago I thought you actually had an inch of politeness in your body, and now that definitely highlights how blind I used to be. I wonder how you must feel after getting turned down by all those guys who chose your best friends over you. The ugliest guy in our class asking you out and you blinded to see how revenge got its toll since I was behind it all. Now your fling who is keeping you on rebound…good luck with losing your virginity at a whore party….wait that’s already happened. It’s what you get “friend” who as talked behind my back.

Now here is where I came to the biggest girl of them all, the one hated by all. Don’t know how you maintain friendships! Oh wait…..you don’t. The only friendship you seem to retain is the problematic class clown. It’s because you’ll probably end up together. Yes, you will be the happiest abusive couple the world as seen. J  Attention seems to be the only thing you swallow…oh yeah and male genitals. Oh yes you do get guys like former boyfriends who bought you to the dance for one reason only. He knew it was a package deal if he dated you he got your whole slut pack too.

I would like to thank these three ladies for bringing my trash talking to the next vulgar level and that comes from the bottom of that deep dark hole in my chest. <3

That was written in the dead of night, there is nothing better to do but make peace with past hatreds and shit talk when your sister as taken up the whole room to study for 16  hours straight then wonder why she is feeling a nervous break down coming. This summer I make peace with old people and write down my last thoughts on them. This summer as strangely become dedicated to closure and I wouldn’t ever say I’m wasting my time with that.

A week ago I was walking the exact steps and solid ground as I always did. I experienced the best part of a journey. There were two steps before the conclusion: a time capsule and a road trip. The reason why I return to my point of view a week ago as I stood on a stage in the gymnasium with nothing but the spot light as I tried poured out who I was to a piece of paper…well, I wasn’t as blunt as I usually am when I gave the time capsule my first shot.

The time capsule was speaking the truth proudly with no hints of shame, but it seems I didn’t comprehend that a week ago. At that moment I didn’t even believe I’d be gone. Now I see that everyone has departed….and though they seem to have already forgotten me by the detail that they haven’t any time to make a effortless phone call….I miss them. I still have made the effort to start over with the new letter to me in 20 years. Enjoy….

Dear Katie,

            Well, now here comes the part I’m ashamed of…I know that I haven’t completely let it go because I don’t want to proceed like it never happened but it did. For once I was the most problematic person in the classroom, I beat the class clown who went to jail, and I beat the disgustingly skinny girl who was obviously bulimic. Because I was a bulimic cutter and I was suicidal.  It’s never something to be proud of I guess. 20 Years from today I wish to hear this…

            On the bus ride to the trip, where you nearly puked, you stared out of the window and thought about what you should have wrote, well here is the second shot. I hope you are a hard working journalist but if you don’t turn out to be what you always wanted I just hope you’re in high spirits. During the first 13 years of your life, you barely lived…you were afraid of being yourself and at this point you’re working on it. Your friends haven’t called by the way. They must have not grown as much as you have. On the trip you met a famous person, went on a rollercoaster people swore you wouldn’t ride on, and you realized the difference between a friend and a slut. You wanted befriend the girls that tried to sport a bikini at an amusement park when you became friends with your unsocial but polite old friend from the sixth grade. She cared when you felt unwell, the others boasted around there undeveloped cleavage and ignored you but swore they would miss you when you left. Yeah they were liars for your own pathetic “sensitive” feelings but little did they know you didn’t care. Because you were a much bigger person and as they thought they were the hottest shit alive you gossiped with mothers who had conversed to boys who replied that they hated a female who attempted way too hard to steal some sort of attention from them when they had too many precious hours to admire the good girls like us. Just then I stood realizing who my real friends were in just a flash of a second. You were intelligent and that same week you marked it a good two months minus cutting. Yeah to the society I was just apart of that group at school they all called the “nobodies” but I was more than anyone who would ever step foot in my classroom. PS. Please don’t hate the 13 year old me. I don’t take rejection easily. Remember the biggest fit of rejection made by his truly…? Oh yeah your first heart break. How is that forgettable? It was the sharpest pain you experienced…you know….before the slip of the razor on your leg…oh wait that was on purpose considering the fact that it took me forever to get out of the bathroom as my leg stayed bleeding. Yeah, there are memories that will remain permanent in that thin skull of yours. Many events I have to be remaining angry at myself to actually write. Like the foolish and selfish thoughts going though your mind as you fixed yourself to the bathroom cabinet to achieve the coldest most unforgivable curse towards yourself. To disappear, right? That was your dream? And remember that nightmare you had where you stared at yourself in the mirror, your pale skin shining from the sunlight coming from the open window nearest to you…you stood in your bedroom, afraid once again. Then the reflection of the mirror became real, your reflection in the mirror was no longer copying what you did and holding sobs like a chicken. It was angry, it wanted revenge. It was your other half, annoyed by you. The reflection glared and leaped at you, strangled you then forced you to bleed. You cried and ran away throwing objects as your reflection dodged them powerfully. It chased you through your empty house; all the windows and doors seemed to be opened no matter how sure you were that you closed them. She screamed to let her frustration out as you hid beside the bed crouching. She grabbed you by your slightly damaged hair and handed you something. Pills…for me? I shouldn’t have. I shook my head and told myself (literally) that I couldn’t go though with it. My emotional side couldn’t go though the pain of suicide. My troubled side thought ahead…I was her; there was no running when your angry side over powers your innocent one. The reflection was now in control of your actions, she was livid and this girl didn’t mind the selfishness or hurt she would cause anyone. She was evil. What a nightmare to let her take over…. And now that nightmare was about to become reality. You weren’t dreaming anymore. But as a wave of hope and wind opened the door….maybe it was never locked….maybe good could regain power from evil. I stared in disbelief as I looked in the mirror and only saw my reflection the day after. Funny, right? Yeah…hilarious or just about everything you didn’t want to admit. Seriously, guess who’s strong enough to finally wake up and keep denial out of her way….13 year old me and if you don’t believe it check the calendar again. 2 months and a week….

            A week ago I passed up the opportunity to write this without shame but now that I know it’s over and feel nothing but happiness. Since the end was perfect and I remain regretless. My angry bitchy side as yet to pay me a visit or call me also….what a bitch…. (Hence the name I guess) Well, I hope everything is alright for 33 year old me…it’s been an unfortunate sequence of depressing moments, glad I could share it with you. Can’t wait to feel my life without this burden, you’ve probably felt it.

                                                                         Sincerely,

                                                                                    Katie

Most of you wouldn’t read until the end I’m guessing, but I guess that’s what makes you true readers of mine if you’re reading this right now. This was for you people too, it would do me great pleasure to announce my pain to others also. It’s always easier to tell strangers your secrets anyways. Right?

Two years ago:

I stood naïve, curious, and unanswered with no proposal of what the word love was. No wonder I was so blissful… I hadn’t experienced a true friendship and I barely spoke period. I was deprived of many things but since I had no fact of what I was missing out on, I didn’t mind. My legs and heart were unscarred, and untouched. The swing didn’t even make an unsettling squeak noise it just swung me back and forth as I smiled joyfully, with strength to push myself forward. The flowers smelled exceptionally delightful, I would just frolic through them.

One year ago:

I became aggravated by the detail that things that I had, I had lost. I did experience love and friendship but also experienced the dark side of such joy. I started to build enough knowledge to see that consequences that come with beautiful things and feelings. I became suddenly depressed and all things seemed to bother me. I heard and viewed detail more closely. I became to realize how cold and ignorant people could be. But never could I see huge challenges and demons to come my way and place such evil sins into my mind. My legs became scarred and this picture became nothing but a lost page in my story…I got angry and the next year came……

This year:

I woke up from a nightmare that had lasted a year. I stood up and glanced at a person who I did not recognize. What was all this talk of cutting or suicide? When life was all but a gift. The page wasn’t lost; it was ripped out, to never be seen again. I would no longer be a selfish human being, I am better than that. I am embarrassed to see who I used to be! But what happens when you’ve experienced love in such a profound level. You’ve found real friends who treat you more than just a speck of dirt. You were everything to somebody and beneficial in someone’s life. Suddenly you realize, for the first time…you’ve actually lived your life. You were someone and meant something to another. You have the dreadful and excellent to reflect on. I still hadn’t gone back to swinging for joy or frolicking to smell something that now symbolized farewell. But I was superior. But there was no longer a swing or a flower. Your final goodbye was your next stop…

Finale of the concluding solute to love:

I had cried every time the image of him came to my mind. Every time I imagined talking to my friends and being around them all again at once. It wasn’t possible….but here it was. The last moment…I stayed with tears in my eyes. Too many transformations of mine and nothing but thank you to say to the people who changed me for the best and forever. I held my love in my arms once more as tears leaked from my face. There couldn’t have been love without hate. There couldn’t have a truce without a fight. There couldn’t have been a me without a him. The sun will always shine when I think of the field, because this night I had a dream. The nightmares suddenly stopped and in the dream, he did show up… he held me when I was crying for him, when I swung he pushed me to go further, and when I reached for the flower he put that hope in my hands….Thank you! Thanks from me three years ago; I needed all of this…..

[You may read my previous journal “flowers of the wrecked mind” before this one]

With school now coming to a close and a flower that blossomed, a swing that still sways back and forth in spirit, and other upsetting feelings of realization when knowing I can’t lose something I never had… I’ve felt my love is dying. The parties could never cover the feeling of standing in a room full of rising bodies dancing and moving to earsplitting music and still being able to hear my own heart beating drowning any laughs and screams of happiness. Knowing I can’t close my eyes and expect it to vanish. I can’t just halt time and stop my unenthusiastic feelings of the desire that I was a different individual when I did recognize my friends. They’re gone now…all I have is few pictures. It’s frustrating to attempt in reaching for all your friends and loved ones in already knowing that I have no chance to succeed in recovering them. There fading into the print of the photographs that have filled the corners of my mirror. I have no craving in wishing to have regrets but in my last few days I’ve felt hopeless. I’m losing everything and I keep screaming within myself phrases such as “I’m truly and sincerely I’m going to miss you!!” instead of hearing a few screams urging me to the dance floor. As far as I know I’ll discontinue the music, wreck the dance floor, and grab my friends all to get this memo across. I was in love; I still am….but I don’t recognize the man anymore. I may have changed to just a speck of dust in all the lot in his eyes but I am always going to be the one soul staring from across the room when something was bothering him. I am always the one who he teased for two and a half years. I am the one who still as my spirit on the swings still waiting……I want to wait. My old self would wait until death; my new self is strong enough to blossom. I am that flower……I keep telling myself I can’t be that girl. For all eternity you can wait for a love that’ll never come, or….you could just search for it until that brief time of love comes. I’ve rather become that flower. There’s no use in dwelling on the past forever, no matter how long your old self stays on that land post swinging. You have to be willing to blossom. You have to force yourself to blossom; if not… you may never love at all. I have loved but I have past or at least I’m attempting to. The goodbyes and farewells all terrify me and give me new knots and creatures to flutter in my stomach once again. The final and complete last day will make me flutter myself and make the day sunny no matter how the weather is. Hopefully I’ll say goodbye to my old self that same day too…..

To my fortunate luck this weekend I partied most of the time that I wasn’t stuck in my sister’s graduation where I heard about 5 different speeches. All to which were boring and predictable in my opinion. In my head I thought of what I would have said but felt distracted by the actuality that 5 cell phones went off by idiotic disrespectable people who have dreadful taste in music. At the same time there are the usual cries of babies who just want attention and parents who just want a rest. Either way there’s usually little sympathy for a mother or father in that position. People’s actions are so predictable that I find it humorous at this stage in the game for me. Especially when I’m around my classmates…. A word to support that statement would be party. I’ve had two in one weekend and feel drained along with my feet who as which been walking this person to the mall, sister’s graduation, and 2 completely different parties. The festive mood was in fact in the air Friday and Saturday. What’s better than hanging out with the same people for about 3 years? Well just about everything. Friday’s drama consisted of an emo, a drunk, and a slut. The dance floor’s magic of bringing sluts with man whores together in proximity while dancing to fast pace music is what white preppy problematic schools are made for. Also is what foolish ignorant people love to hear about so come and bear with me on this engaging night that I have experienced.

TIME: about 8:00

Just then I had arrived to the loud screeches of friends calling my name as I made my way into the party. As I got settled on the dance floor and danced a few songs before, the tears and gossip had begun. As I fanned myself for the hundredth time I noticed a conversation of my good friend….I won’t state his name but call him ‘Drunk’ talking to the one I referred to as ‘Slut’ after this I felt annoyed and got air outside where everyone stopped dead in there tracks while staring at the ‘Emo’ My good friend was absolutely in love with him and stayed to watch him fall off his skateboard and  on his ass about ten times until the haters, which summed up everyone, basically chased him out simply because he looked out of the ordinary. Again I’m around ignorant people, enough said. I come back and all hell as seemed to have been splattered on the dance floor’s space since at this time. The ‘Slut’ is crying. The ‘Drunk’ is now a fugitive who was found drinking or high and leaves. The news is bought to a closing as to no one could find him.

STORY: ‘Drunk’ slapped ‘Slut’ in the face (which makes me worship the drunk) and he as now left the party since he was reported high or drunk by ‘Slut’ since she needed her revenge. At this time the party is recalled over.

TIME: 9:30

Which is just enough to grab a water bottle, take a rest and start the party the right way minus the ‘Drunk’ but sadly included the ‘Slut’ the last time I heard from the ‘Emo’ he left on his skateboard and missed out on the whole prerogative dancing.

TIME: 12:00

Dancing and partying complete……..and that’s just the first night…………..

SATURDAY= to make the long story short I missed half and arrived at 10:00 but I was lucky enough to realize how dull it was. Just at that second I doubted the party was officially over…..the ‘Drunk’ suddenly arrives…uninvited. Things then get complicated. The ‘Slut’ as now gotten angry and wants him out. His friends want him in. Just then the hostess feels under pressure and cries in her stressfulness as she witnesses the angry guests at the door and the tugs at her shirt as her selfish friends tell her that what she is doing is right. But the hostess finally lets the problematic boy in. *Sigh* Party as almost begun and it’s time that I begin to socialize with friends and new individuals. Over all I’m drained and this dance floor as written off with nothing but degrading things to say about its conquests

I remember when I was a kid. Whenever I started to cry all my family did was compel me to do things. For example, enforced me to “play with friends” or eat something and shove garbage down my throat. I cried, it was discontinuing until they just left me alone. This is precisely what I urged them to do in the first place! It’s humorous how history repeats itself. Every time parents attempt to make things “correct” by alternating my own actions because they think it’s what’s greatest for you they just end up demanding you to do things they desire. My path as jumped off track. I started with them holding my hand guiding the way until I cried when it was too much, all they did was criticize me with sinister remarks. Who knew the people “who sought after the greatest” for you could be so selfish. They just told me who I should associate with in school…snatched me away from the black, the stupid, the poor. They bought me into the higher class with just rude ignorant sheltered people. I’m the biggest defect in those bogus faces I stroll about everyday. My parents told me to be skinny and pretty, but what is the difference in our society? Either way all they did was try to buy my favorite foods when they knew I was miserable then bullied me calling me overweight later. They didn’t comprehend the fact I needed breathing space. I was still that crying child. My path has been reaching dead ends with stops at the devils feet; there it demanded me to sin. My parents tried to swear they would never let my hand go and maybe I have now came to the realization….they should have never held my hand since they were being me to the incorrect stop anyways. I would have been better off with a hug and a kiss before they could give me a push to run my own path. But here I lay a sinner halted in conversation with evil.

Back a year ago, I was buoyant. I was in love. His smile was my warmth. He was well-mannered, and he was interested…in me. He bought me back to a place that I never wanted to leave. I could just lie like I did every night to just listen to the same songs that I knew he loved or that just made me imagine him. I thought as I lay back in my bed with a wondrous blank expression on my countenance…tossing and turning to over analyzing the stuff that he whispered to me. There were never terms to describe how joyous the feelings were. I could forget for an instant, about all my troubles and be normal. I wasn’t weeping for there ignorance. I wasn’t fighting with there foolishness. I thought, I wrote. How I wanted to be in a meadow of flowers or just grass and abandon land, far away…and maybe lay and smell the delighted day, that wasn’t disintegrating. I would finally feel liberated, as the creatures and nerves in my stomach fluttered. Every other day I would sit by the swings and pick a flower just to picture myself in that meadow as the sun finally shined on me and the clouds of gloom and sadness had faded…for a second. Then I waited by the swing for the final time after many days and realized you were never going to show up, that it was my mind that thought I could make you care enough to meet me after all this time. The clouds began to create a melancholy setting and all I could do was run in the rain….my flower dead. My hope gone. The smoothing sound of the music still ran though my head the night I gave up. I still played the songs as if they were going to bring you back. I still read my diary from past times I talked to you, while the unstoppable giggles and discomforting blushes I produced effortlessly continued. I couldn’t even rip the papers of disclosure….until today. The realization of knowing you never gave me the desire to visit the swings again, the other girl made me feel inferior now. Your smile made me feel uneasy with misery. The fact that every time I saw your face I remembered. Every time I tried to revisit the swings I ran away as the sky threw bolts of lighting hazardously. Today I finally visited it for the last time and sobbed. This was the actual farewell. I used to never think I would cry when I thought of him. I used to think I was peaceful now. Today I threw the flower on the swing, the flower didn’t die but my heart almost did. It was my interment to my tormented soul. To finally flutter and feel even more liberated. I soared instead of running for closure, now it’s almost sunny in that aspect in my life. Now I’m finally gone.

FROM 3/30/07

I’m starting to come to the conclusion that I’m at fault or everyone is entirely mistaken….my anxiety as reached an excruciating point. I think it doesn’t do much brilliance that I have everyone as the impertinence to come at me still. I’m done with the sick minds of today. I’m starting to realize the ones who are most trustworthy are the only ones worth being around period. There disregard and my less importance to them shows more than ever. There requirement to put people down is now getting almost old… it hard to see these people wasting there time as they wonder why good things never happen to them….it’s hard to be apologetic to someone who doesn’t deserve any amount of sympathy. I try to be around people more regularly but end up almost feeling myself suffocating in anxiety once again yearning for a drug to get me elsewhere. There are sometimes occurrences where I don’t feel an ounce of sanity in my veins. It can’t be ALL them but my negative mind also in full effect. It isn’t my fault my mind doesn’t ooze of sunshine and enthusiasm. I don’t know if I even have a cause for my constant difficult intellect to plant seeds of depression. Being an outsider in a social world isn’t exactly enjoyable. Having the two people you consider best friends putting you second to each other isn’t accurately a party. Having the boys you have always loved and admired become strangers and move on isn’t the happiest thing. The most “splendid” thing on top of that is having a family that seems to never have faith in you as much as you even try. There beliefs are to get to the acme of everything whatever means necessary. There religions, reading to be the opposite of a person like me. I seem to be more than sinful with it all over my skin and am more than happy I don’t live my life avoiding half of the things I do or people I’m around because of what’s written in a book that ages back to B.C. My generation happens to be one that feeds on gossip magazines and rumors to cure there loneliness. My generation actually wishes to be more filled with fame than wisdom. My generation as no meaning in existing if we only harm and damage each other than give love and happiness. I have yet to feel it. I doubt the bible could have predicted that our world would come to war and destruction so long before the revelation. I don’t know all the answers to the questions and I find myself changing views and opinions on every person because I know everyone has there good and bad points is it my fault the bad, in my mind, always dominates the good? I’m losing a religion I’m losing the people I found it most easy to talk to….does it even matter when you’re always second best or second to last? My loner status is for there lifelong ignorance and there polite way to saying they don’t want me, ignoring me….I’m also starting to realize that a drug isn’t the only solution….maybe a departure is just the medicine I call for.

I just wanted them to show a single sign of caring. Someone who didn’t always put me at fault….someone, who realized what I was doing in the bathroom…, carving letters of annoyance, there ignorance, and my insanity on to a trembling anxious leg of terror. Would they even notice the blood on the wall that I tried so hard to erase? Again I add I’m crazy and have nothing but pain and negativity to bring to this world. I can’t remember the last time I felt that the world wasn’t crumbling under my feet. Everything about this world angers me in a way I can’t explain. Did it matter one solitary girl was alone in a bathroom and cured herself with blood and some vomit. Again now writing on the walls throwing things, kicking stuff, not even shedding a single tear as I felt weak, depressed, and passionate……it was something about the moment that gave me a certain degree of closure. It also made me realize how dramatic and passionate I was about each and every moment. How every hand motion and jump I did to let out my frustration was quickly helping. The feeling is now almost a blur. My second outburst was a little more reckless…..it has been many times that I’ve lost my self control though yesterday I actually felt if I had went even more insane I would have crossed the line. I would have done something worse. I stopped and realized I care at least enough to stop myself for once. I cleaned my blood that was on the walls, mirror, and tub, lipstick that I wrote profound things with and the water that I flooded the room with. That was my decision. I trashed my own bathroom and had my satisfaction and now needed to realize I was still in a house with 5 others and in a world with billions of others. Though my views of the world and everyone’s sad judgment are pretty much the same, image seems to be everyone to people. I don’t take back my outburst and the reason why I did it. Though I tell myself the right thing my free will and need to rebel makes me kick my way to destruction. My mind is filled with demons and angels’ contemplating what I should do next and it’s a struggle. I’m still violent in many things I do and most of the times don’t feel bad. I always ask God why…Does it matter how pretty and skin you are when you’re a horrible person? Why does image have to be everything? Why is it that even my parents spread that message? I refuse to remain sane if I feel like the only one who knows about common sense. The maturity everyone lacks is a great deal….some days I can’t go a day without an argument with an ignorant brainless shallow person who thinks there views are always right. All I have to say is they have it coming….because my mind attacks in a way that I would say terrorizes the person in a emotional and physical level and will make sure I devour there soul as if they had taken life from me, and do it until I feel the satisfaction that never seems to come easy….revenge comes without difficulty thanks for making my a hateful human being world.

(Sorry about the color just highlight as if you were going to copy and paste to read.)

As much as I express amusement and disclaim all the pessimistic things that have once left these lips, I still find myself staring  in the mirror just to see what other imperfections I could try to repair. It never seems to work since the day after I do the same exact thing and feel the exact same way as I reach my fingers in my mouth collecting mucus and vomit. Oh look at that tragedy! She puked to feel better about herself though ended up feeling inferior and insecure. It’s not like she ever felt good enough or pretty enough for anyone to look at her and you had to be that insecure with yourself to pick at her! Though her vulnerability proved she was weak and defenseless. She didn’t do anything but was an easy target because she was already falling apart and tore herself apart as she stared at her scars and scabs on her pale legs. They never go away and these painful memories will stay everlastingly. She is ME! Then my apprehensions, if I do this will it makes me seem more awful? If I lost control for just a second will I still I have my dignity? If I lose and fall completely will I be more vulnerable and figured out than I ever have been? As I stood confessing my sins in the presents of my abhorrence, which is the person I seem to too noticeably  express my hatred for, leans over and asks me why I bite my nails and shake my legs continuously. I am a paranoid anxious human being and can’t bite my nails long enough to hold back the horrendous things I’ve been wanting to say to the hatred of my life…the ones who keep taunting while swearing they are sincere and write theses degrading phrases with love…why would you be deceitful to someone who you is your companion or is your blood relation? Why am I, the one who cowers in fear of people knowing my secrets when I basically indicate this every chance I get? For what, remorse, sympathy, for a prayer?! I’m a perplexed with the human species…with them…with myself….I experiment with myself and examine/dissect my legs as I make great big cutting scenes on my leg. I experiment with them as I begin to know what makes a parent tick, go for there weak spots and emotions, cutting there hearts opened….I’m becoming the bitch that criticized me while trying to make myself as cold and motionless as the ones who assured they couldn’t feel it as they did this to me. It hurts; I just want that same reaction from them, since I realized I could feel with my first cut, I just want them to examine themselves, make them be able to feel whatever means necessary.

I was standing in the kitchen trying to escape all the other rooms which were either occupied with my mother, father, sisters, or brother. I wanted to avoid them and cooled off since my dad had just ridiculed me for no reason as I crossed his path though later he followed me in a strange satisfied mood. He had just gotten off the phone with someone who informed him that his new expensive luxurious vehicle would be in, in just a few days. My dad was obsessed with his car and had shown it off every chance he got. He thought it would get him friends, girls (though he as a wife), and generally happiness. He thinks money and classy things could attract the right people and make him adopt happiness. Though he is a miserable 50 year old sick and depressed human being that should be happy with what he has. He wants to have a 20 to 25 year old new wife that is artificial and in shape, that will do anything for him. He wants the best restaurants and treatment even at the trashy places he goes as those strip clubs and all around clubs. He wants to leave this life of a small home with four children and a wife who devotes her life to all of us. He wants to start over and be the 90 year old with every material possession a person could own and all the goldigger girls he could get until he dies of old age though my family and I believe he won’t last to be 60 if he keeps on eating fatty foods. I despise my dad for the things he believes. He as told me be a doctor or lawyer and aim for the top in careers. Though I know I would be much happier as a writer. He thinks being a doctor or lawyer would give me money and eventually happiness. He thinks money also gives a person love and fame. This was just 4 years ago on a car ride from my Aunt’s house, as he almost crashed when I said money doesn’t equal the perfect life style. His mind disgusts me. He doesn’t have any sense of sophistication that he wants in life. For that I don’t give him respect nor listen to his advice or useless words because he doesn’t deserve it, though I am his daughter and much less in age I seem to have more common sense than him. The same ignorant people everyday reminds me of my dad. This seems to be the age of ignorance and our minds are diminishing all the rational beliefs and intelligence we once knew which seems to be