The Original Fake Audrey.

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