-from "audrey"

-p.s. I know you miss me but nobody can fucking replace me.

"xoxo"

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!

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.

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.

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.

“Wake up” I swear I heard someone whisper to me. My vision went from distorted to perceptible. My eyes fixed on my hand out my bathroom door. I suddenly realized how bizarre all this really was. I sat up glazing at my bear legs on as I remained clueless to my surroundings. The bathroom….no, that wouldn’t comprise of what I was doing yesterday? Oh no, I thought as I rose from the carpet and stood up to see myself in the mirror. I was ill I remember….I fell asleep as I panicked that my uncontrollable vomit wouldn’t stop in time when it arrived. Then…..I memorized the exact thing I didn’t want to unleash. The reason why my location was even more bizarre was my nightmare. Leave it up to my other side to really wake me up. It was a dream like no other that interpreted my thoughts on the next level…

It was in the dead of night and there was nothing but thumping of tree branches as they always woke me. I could see the dim light shining from the slightly ajar door. My curiosities lead me to follow and I slipped out of bed in just my white tank top and bottom under garments. When I suddenly opened the door shades of red, white, and black were the only colors used in this delusion. Ahead at the end of the hallways I was a shadow walking towards my bathroom. My eyes of fire widened as my pupils dilated. My bear feet roamed my empty house as I suddenly stepped upon something…it was me dead. As the flickering light became clearer the many dead bodies of me were shown. What was going on? It wasn’t an ordinary night, even in a dream. I held on to the walls and avoided the bodies, me now looking up and walking slowly. My anticipation gave me great nervousness. My sweaty palms marking the walls as I made it to the white bright light of the bathroom. All I could hear was my own foot steps echoing in the night. I ran at the last second to pass the time faster. I couldn’t believe my eyes…my bathroom had been trashed. The words and letters drawn on the walls were unrecognizable. It looked like a different language. The lights went out as I touched the dark red words on the walls. My heart sunk as I turned around. The lights went back on and I stood in front of my mirror fearing what I knew was going to happen next. The lights flickered one last time and there she was. Me again, the evil unbearable angry me….

“Hello” I said to myself. Yes it was me but we had met before in many nightmares just like these. My angry and dark side bullied me; I was literally my own worse enemy.

“It came to disgust and pleasure that you followed, thought you’d be crying by the site of us dead in the hallways.”

“I overlook the images and continue my journey.” I said strongly.

“Oh yes of course but before you go further, this is a pit stop at your past” I stared at the walls in completely awe. She was right in many ways. There was occurrence right in this bathroom before, I trashed the bathroom months ago, when I was a different person.

“I used to be the only one who understood what I was going though. I wrote on the walls, what I knew at the time. I used to believe in the most outrageous thing could become true in a dream. That all logic and physics could be fiction and that my insanity was all a view of how normal I really was. There was no false. I understood that before, why can’t I make these phrases legible to me now?” my mind was mangled in this fiction and truth. What was I?

“Because your “well” now right?” she said laughing proving that my dark side was maybe just a bitch.

“Better is the word.”

“Scars still there” she smiled and crossed her arms.

“The one time weakness and anger worked together, but right now I’m rediscovering my other sides”

“There all dead”

“But….”

“Yeah” she laughed. “Of course they are”

“Why do I….” I was speechless to explain any feelings, I didn’t know.

“Life sucks I know, why I wanted you dead” She walked around me, rotating in circles as I glared turning at her every few seconds.

“I’m not dead yet” I said on the edge of tears.

“Of course not, it’s just us. We could work together again. Just once” she suggested.

“And go back to cutting? Not an option.” I said beginning to grin.

“You’ll give in, if not keep dreaming I’ll make sure to make a short cameo.”

The lights flickered once again. Finally over….no.

Her screams echoed and another glance in the mirror of another dead picture of me and she was gone. I wasn’t dead. I never will be….until natural dead as taken its toll.

I fell on the bathroom floor crying, doing what that side of me only knew. Let this denial and anger stop. Let me be well!

How did I not wake up in a sweat I thought? That was the worse nightmare to wake up where I did. I felt my face warm and dragged myself to sleep in my bedroom still shaken. I realized that the language was my confusion and the dead bodies were very much my inner child, my happiness, and all the things that I refused to believe within my dream. But I am very much past it, evil doesn't make me leave this much closure I guess. Though the previous day felt still and quite normal to be at a family party after indulging myself in Chinese I grabbed the traditional fortune cookie.

It read:

“The real test in life is not avoiding the rough, but getting yourself out when you’re in”

My mission was half accomplished. I still had felt like I was losing all my feelings but I didn’t let temptation conquer my actions, and when the nightmares flood of my “dark side” the weak will stand powerful because I am in fact still me, I haven’t died yet. Evil dies every time sin is turned down and it has been by the intelligent and dominant me no longer weak.

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?

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…..

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…..

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