I turn my tears into stones so they can hurt you too.
Might not break your bones, but the message'll get through.
Take a good hard look at what we've become.
The monsters are coming out, so you better run.
No future's set in stone...
any place could be your home...
wish the past was unknown...
so we won't know -
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster (disaster)...
no, we're repeating disaster...
Harsh lines set into your face.
Tell the time that the pain took place.
Hide all you want but you can't disguise your eyes... they're like an inkwell brimming over...
the story's told every night you sleep.
The poor souls just sit and weep and you... well you're a human too.
No future's set in stone...
any place could be your home...
wish the past was unknown...
so we won't know -
we're repeating disaster....
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster (disaster)...
oh no, we're repeating disaster...
Reappearing shadows with crooked aims,
haunting legends with peculiar names,
childhood memories based on broken games,
these same faces oh these same faces.
Invisible supporters hidden in the frames,
hateful people with ridiculous claims -
oh the damage they cause isn't it a shame,
these same faces, these dear old faces!
we're repeating disaster....
we're repeating disaster...
we're repeating disaster...
oh we're repeating repeating yes!
we're repeating disaster!
we're repeating disaster!
we should've run faster...
nooo, why are we repeating disaster..."
Monday, December 26, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Proud To Be Out
I will not hide fancy in the fairer sex,
Nor place my feet upon these poor downtrodden necks.
I will not mumble profane words when I can shout displeasure,
Nor dance around my true feelings by talking 'bout the weather,
For if her beauty embraces my cold set eyes,
And her intellect easily rivals mine,
And her imagination inspires my soul,
Then shouldn't my love for her be what I show?
Nor place my feet upon these poor downtrodden necks.
I will not mumble profane words when I can shout displeasure,
Nor dance around my true feelings by talking 'bout the weather,
For if her beauty embraces my cold set eyes,
And her intellect easily rivals mine,
And her imagination inspires my soul,
Then shouldn't my love for her be what I show?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
"When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time."
"When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time."
Teens commit suicide.
When you're a teen, you are supposed to be growing, trying to find yourself and who you are meant to be.
But when teens kill themselves before they even get a chance to see what they could have been... it just... ruins so much. Because they keep getting called out for trying to express themselves and find themselves, they push themselves so far away from everyone and everything else that... there's nothing left but their corpse... their body cold and empty.
I've been suicidal, and luckily it has not been because I've been bullied or because I'm gay... in fact being gay is one of the smaller reasons I don't like who I am. I'm mostly just afraid that the people I care about will be disappointed in me and drift away from me. People have distanced themselves from me because I needed to grow up or because I grew up to be someone they didn't like, and I really don't care much about the reasons why they stopped liking me - it just hurts that they did stop liking me. Best friends that I imagined having fun with for years to come stopped talking to me years ago, and it was never my decision to let that happen. It hurts when you can't control things.
I'm a little afraid that coming out to my family will be the final straw where they actually express their disappoint in my to my face. I know some of them don't agree with the things I've done or who I'm growing up to be, and in a way, I accept that because I don't plan on remaining very close to my family in the future. But still, the fact that someone you have grown so close to can just drop you from their heart like you were never meant to be there in the first place hurts so badly.
Right now, I really like this boy. And I know that as a teenager, I've had crushes come and go more often than I text, but he's different. I think he sort of ... initiated any flirting, and it's such a serious head game trying to figure out how he really feels about me. He's extremely weird, so I don't feel like the odd man out, he's a musician, he's an artist, and he's fun. Sometimes, I feel moments where a connection would be made if it were written that way in a story, but like I said, he's hard to figure out, so I can't figure out what he feels. And I like that - he keeps me guessing. As a girl who writes love stories, not knowing how my own is going to end up is a thrill. I can usually see how things might end up, and there's only been one instance where I was so naive and blinded by love that I couldn't see us heading for disaster. With this guy, I don't know what's going to happen, but even if it ends in heartbreak, I'd still be buzzing from the excitement of the few times we've spent together already.
But in liking him, I've realized something.
I haven't acted very much like myself around him, not because I felt like he would judge me, but because I've been too busy analyzing him, really. But if I am to be myself, how much of myself should I be? Not many people are accepting of gays, bisexuals, etc. Not many people are understanding of depressed people. I've been lucky to find some who are, but can I find any who would be willing to date a mess like me?
I didn't mean to make this personal, but if I kept writing about suicide, I was going to cry.
I'm still here. I like it here, being alive. I haven't known anyone who's committed suicide, and I hope I never do. It wouldn't make me stronger or weaker - it would make me scared that it could have been me giving up like that. I don't want to envision myself hanging from up high, or bleeding to death because I cut myself, or having my body mangled or torn apart by whatever gruesome end I thought would help. Because I know suicide doesn't solve anything. It doesn't solve any problems at all. It's like when I had a list of math problems to do, and no matter how hard I tried to work it out, no matter how many people I asked for help, I was still lost and confused, and I would leave the page blank. The problems were still there, and they still hurt me in the end, but the world would move on and those problems would be forgotten for me. My problems would just float around somewhere until they bothered someone else - they never go away for everyone.
Lately, I've been thinking about my brothers, and I've wanted to make some art piece with a message to them and anyone else who's misunderstood. My brothers express themselves, and even if they get into more dangerous and life-threatening situations than most people, I still think that they might outlive me soon. And I don't want that - I want to grow old with them.
When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.
I'm tired of slowly dying. I want to express myself, one art piece at a time.
Teens commit suicide.
When you're a teen, you are supposed to be growing, trying to find yourself and who you are meant to be.
But when teens kill themselves before they even get a chance to see what they could have been... it just... ruins so much. Because they keep getting called out for trying to express themselves and find themselves, they push themselves so far away from everyone and everything else that... there's nothing left but their corpse... their body cold and empty.
I've been suicidal, and luckily it has not been because I've been bullied or because I'm gay... in fact being gay is one of the smaller reasons I don't like who I am. I'm mostly just afraid that the people I care about will be disappointed in me and drift away from me. People have distanced themselves from me because I needed to grow up or because I grew up to be someone they didn't like, and I really don't care much about the reasons why they stopped liking me - it just hurts that they did stop liking me. Best friends that I imagined having fun with for years to come stopped talking to me years ago, and it was never my decision to let that happen. It hurts when you can't control things.
I'm a little afraid that coming out to my family will be the final straw where they actually express their disappoint in my to my face. I know some of them don't agree with the things I've done or who I'm growing up to be, and in a way, I accept that because I don't plan on remaining very close to my family in the future. But still, the fact that someone you have grown so close to can just drop you from their heart like you were never meant to be there in the first place hurts so badly.
Right now, I really like this boy. And I know that as a teenager, I've had crushes come and go more often than I text, but he's different. I think he sort of ... initiated any flirting, and it's such a serious head game trying to figure out how he really feels about me. He's extremely weird, so I don't feel like the odd man out, he's a musician, he's an artist, and he's fun. Sometimes, I feel moments where a connection would be made if it were written that way in a story, but like I said, he's hard to figure out, so I can't figure out what he feels. And I like that - he keeps me guessing. As a girl who writes love stories, not knowing how my own is going to end up is a thrill. I can usually see how things might end up, and there's only been one instance where I was so naive and blinded by love that I couldn't see us heading for disaster. With this guy, I don't know what's going to happen, but even if it ends in heartbreak, I'd still be buzzing from the excitement of the few times we've spent together already.
But in liking him, I've realized something.
I haven't acted very much like myself around him, not because I felt like he would judge me, but because I've been too busy analyzing him, really. But if I am to be myself, how much of myself should I be? Not many people are accepting of gays, bisexuals, etc. Not many people are understanding of depressed people. I've been lucky to find some who are, but can I find any who would be willing to date a mess like me?
I didn't mean to make this personal, but if I kept writing about suicide, I was going to cry.
I'm still here. I like it here, being alive. I haven't known anyone who's committed suicide, and I hope I never do. It wouldn't make me stronger or weaker - it would make me scared that it could have been me giving up like that. I don't want to envision myself hanging from up high, or bleeding to death because I cut myself, or having my body mangled or torn apart by whatever gruesome end I thought would help. Because I know suicide doesn't solve anything. It doesn't solve any problems at all. It's like when I had a list of math problems to do, and no matter how hard I tried to work it out, no matter how many people I asked for help, I was still lost and confused, and I would leave the page blank. The problems were still there, and they still hurt me in the end, but the world would move on and those problems would be forgotten for me. My problems would just float around somewhere until they bothered someone else - they never go away for everyone.
Lately, I've been thinking about my brothers, and I've wanted to make some art piece with a message to them and anyone else who's misunderstood. My brothers express themselves, and even if they get into more dangerous and life-threatening situations than most people, I still think that they might outlive me soon. And I don't want that - I want to grow old with them.
When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time.
I'm tired of slowly dying. I want to express myself, one art piece at a time.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Dear Santa...
Dear Santa, you are probably wondering why on earth I would be writing you a letter. I have to admit, as an almost 18-year old, my belief in you is about as strong as my belief in that I'll become a Powerpuff Girl one day. But why shouldn't I believe in you just because I got older? I've outgrown you, the tooth fairy, and well I never believed in the Easter bunny to begin with. If people can still believe in God or multiple gods when I don't, or at least have faith, then why can't I have faith in something that seems a little ridiculous?
I doubt that you'll have time to read this letter - after all it's already December and you're busy making toys and iPads for the kids of the world, but I still have things I want to wish for... I know you can't grant every wish - even fairy godparents can't, but I'm hoping your magic can do something.
1. I want to come out to my family and not have them judge me. They have never been rude or anything towards homosexuality, but I feel like me being bisexual would just give them more reason to be disappointed in me. I can tell that they aren't thrilled with who I've become.
2. I want to get into UIUC. It's my dream school, and I'll cry if I don't get in.
3. I want a significant other - boy or girl. I'm nervous to try being with another guy, for reasons I've blogged about time and time again, but there is this one guy I wouldn't mind being with. He's extremely confusing and random, just like all of my friends, yet still something I haven't encountered before. I know you probably can't make people fall in love, but if you can somehow erase the nervousness or ask Cupid to push us a little closer together, that would be nice - I'll try to take it from there.
4. I want my friends to be happy. A lot of them aren't happy for different reasons. Maybe you could give them all puppies.
5. I'd like a puppy too. I might have to wait till I get my own place though - my mom isn't an animal person.
6. I want to be able to spend my life without worrying if my depression will take over me. I hate feeling suicidal. I've held off from harming myself for 8 years now - how much longer can I handle that?
7. I want my mom to be... less of a pain. She has anger issues, but I'm sure that if anyone tried to tell her that, she's bite their head off. My grandma already tried telling her about it, and my mom has little respect for her.
8. I want there to be a cure for Autism. My brothers have been affected by it for 19 years now, and it's been a burden on them, me, my mom, and my whole family. Imagine the other families struggling to stay together because of the problems Autism causes for them.
9. I want to meet my father, just so I can find out why he isn't here now.
10. I know this is a job far beyond your power, but if you ever get a chance, could you help end world suffering? You know: famine, poverty, disease, bullying, senseless murder, all of those terrible things. If Pandora held a box with all the sin and evil that would ever plague the world, then why can't someone who created them and put them in the box in the first place be able to put them back? I know you don't have all the answers, Santa - I'm just wondering.
There are plenty of other things I would love to do with my life - I have career goals and ideas and such, but I'd rather do those on my own. All I'm asking for is for you to give me a reason to keep trying to get to my future. I know suicide seems like the coward's way out, but there are so many problems and questions that I just can't deal with anymore. If you could give me at least one of the things on my list, then I'll try harder to live my life.
Love, Jerica
P.S. I try to leave some cookies out for you.
I doubt that you'll have time to read this letter - after all it's already December and you're busy making toys and iPads for the kids of the world, but I still have things I want to wish for... I know you can't grant every wish - even fairy godparents can't, but I'm hoping your magic can do something.
1. I want to come out to my family and not have them judge me. They have never been rude or anything towards homosexuality, but I feel like me being bisexual would just give them more reason to be disappointed in me. I can tell that they aren't thrilled with who I've become.
2. I want to get into UIUC. It's my dream school, and I'll cry if I don't get in.
3. I want a significant other - boy or girl. I'm nervous to try being with another guy, for reasons I've blogged about time and time again, but there is this one guy I wouldn't mind being with. He's extremely confusing and random, just like all of my friends, yet still something I haven't encountered before. I know you probably can't make people fall in love, but if you can somehow erase the nervousness or ask Cupid to push us a little closer together, that would be nice - I'll try to take it from there.
4. I want my friends to be happy. A lot of them aren't happy for different reasons. Maybe you could give them all puppies.
5. I'd like a puppy too. I might have to wait till I get my own place though - my mom isn't an animal person.
6. I want to be able to spend my life without worrying if my depression will take over me. I hate feeling suicidal. I've held off from harming myself for 8 years now - how much longer can I handle that?
7. I want my mom to be... less of a pain. She has anger issues, but I'm sure that if anyone tried to tell her that, she's bite their head off. My grandma already tried telling her about it, and my mom has little respect for her.
8. I want there to be a cure for Autism. My brothers have been affected by it for 19 years now, and it's been a burden on them, me, my mom, and my whole family. Imagine the other families struggling to stay together because of the problems Autism causes for them.
9. I want to meet my father, just so I can find out why he isn't here now.
10. I know this is a job far beyond your power, but if you ever get a chance, could you help end world suffering? You know: famine, poverty, disease, bullying, senseless murder, all of those terrible things. If Pandora held a box with all the sin and evil that would ever plague the world, then why can't someone who created them and put them in the box in the first place be able to put them back? I know you don't have all the answers, Santa - I'm just wondering.
There are plenty of other things I would love to do with my life - I have career goals and ideas and such, but I'd rather do those on my own. All I'm asking for is for you to give me a reason to keep trying to get to my future. I know suicide seems like the coward's way out, but there are so many problems and questions that I just can't deal with anymore. If you could give me at least one of the things on my list, then I'll try harder to live my life.
Love, Jerica
P.S. I try to leave some cookies out for you.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
I feel bad because I haven't been too inspired to write anything lately. My stories remain discontinued, I haven't started any new poems yet... it's kinda sad. I think that once you write a sonnet, your poetic license just goes "Well, I'm done - there's no other challenge for you to take on in this category." Unless I tried writing an epic, but since I take AP Latin and struggle just to understand why Vergil had to go and write a hulking story like the Aeneid in the first place, I think I would surely go mad after trying to write the first few pages of an epic.
I didn't dare try the NaNoWriMo competition this year because I knew I'd never work on it before the deadline. As for my other stories, well... I can honestly say that I've hit the biggest writer's blockade I've ever had. I can only write slashes. For those of you that don't know, slashes are boy and boy (or girl and girl) romances... gay love stories. I'm not even sure how I got into writing them - I think it was because all of my favorite online stories were slashes so I wanted to try writing them too, and I'm too bad at them, but it's such a slump that it's all I can write now. Also, I've encountered one of my smaller writer's blocks where I'm so stuck for a reason to continue a story that I just randomly decide to send them to a party to stir things up. I mean, it helps me get unslumped, but it's like taking the easy way out, which I hate.
I have another newspaper article assignment - I get to write about zombies :) That makes me happy because I, personally, find zombies to be cool and they are very popular nowadays. The angle for my article is supposed to be how zombies are becoming the new vampire fad. Now I just have to figure out how to logically defend my beloved corpses without turning into a total fangirl and an anti-Twilight fanatic. (I don't hate Twilight, I just can't get excited about it like every other female of my generation).
I'm not even sure what poetic challenge I should take on next with this, but my friend said "Rule of thumb; boys are dumb". No offense to any boys out there, but I liked the way it sounds, and it rhymes, so I might try to make it into a song or something.
I hate limericks. Just throwing that out there. They are stupid and crude. I wrote a limerick about how I hate limericks, but it's in my journal somewhere, so I might post it on here eventually. I also dislike haikus, but only because they can be so simple and yet so difficult at the same time... like microwavable frozen food directions.
Right now, I got another novel idea stuck in my head with no real direction for it - I just know I would love to see it on a bookshelf one day. When I can polish out a description of it, I'll get to work on it. For now, I'm going to tackle my slash stories one more time before trying to start on my article.
And I'm very sick and tired and hungry right now, but I never listen to my brain when it's telling me to do smart, necessary things.
I didn't dare try the NaNoWriMo competition this year because I knew I'd never work on it before the deadline. As for my other stories, well... I can honestly say that I've hit the biggest writer's blockade I've ever had. I can only write slashes. For those of you that don't know, slashes are boy and boy (or girl and girl) romances... gay love stories. I'm not even sure how I got into writing them - I think it was because all of my favorite online stories were slashes so I wanted to try writing them too, and I'm too bad at them, but it's such a slump that it's all I can write now. Also, I've encountered one of my smaller writer's blocks where I'm so stuck for a reason to continue a story that I just randomly decide to send them to a party to stir things up. I mean, it helps me get unslumped, but it's like taking the easy way out, which I hate.
I have another newspaper article assignment - I get to write about zombies :) That makes me happy because I, personally, find zombies to be cool and they are very popular nowadays. The angle for my article is supposed to be how zombies are becoming the new vampire fad. Now I just have to figure out how to logically defend my beloved corpses without turning into a total fangirl and an anti-Twilight fanatic. (I don't hate Twilight, I just can't get excited about it like every other female of my generation).
I'm not even sure what poetic challenge I should take on next with this, but my friend said "Rule of thumb; boys are dumb". No offense to any boys out there, but I liked the way it sounds, and it rhymes, so I might try to make it into a song or something.
I hate limericks. Just throwing that out there. They are stupid and crude. I wrote a limerick about how I hate limericks, but it's in my journal somewhere, so I might post it on here eventually. I also dislike haikus, but only because they can be so simple and yet so difficult at the same time... like microwavable frozen food directions.
Right now, I got another novel idea stuck in my head with no real direction for it - I just know I would love to see it on a bookshelf one day. When I can polish out a description of it, I'll get to work on it. For now, I'm going to tackle my slash stories one more time before trying to start on my article.
And I'm very sick and tired and hungry right now, but I never listen to my brain when it's telling me to do smart, necessary things.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Italian Sonnet 1 (my attempt at an Italian/Petrarchan style sonnet)
a Please grace me with your fondest memory
b Don't let it get distorted as you sing
b A thought that wraps you up, a tender thing
a And kisses you with warmth - how you should me
a Share with me what terrors plague your poor head
b Make me weep with what sorrows torture you
b Smother me with the pain that brings you blues
a So that your woes will bother me instead
c The things I know about you show much growth
d But I fear you won't keep pushing forward
e The problems weighing down on you are strong
c I swear I'll bring happiness to us both
d What gives me power are your sad, sad words
e Trust me - your problems won't stay very long
*IT WAS SO HARD TO WRITE THE LAST SIX LINES, mostly because Italian sonnet rhyme scheme has like, eight possible end rhyme schemes. I tried to do it according to the notes we took in Creative Writing - cdc dcd or cde edc... I think. I'm not sure I wrote it down correctly, but on Monday I will show her and ask her opinion.
*Also, I might have written this for someone, but I'm really unsure if my feelings are romantic or so friendly that I'm in the "I'll do anything to help my friends, even risk my safety" stage for this friendship. I was inspired by this techno song "Britney Spears & Louis La Roche - Inside Out (Bugzz French House Mix)" to write this poem.
b Don't let it get distorted as you sing
b A thought that wraps you up, a tender thing
a And kisses you with warmth - how you should me
a Share with me what terrors plague your poor head
b Make me weep with what sorrows torture you
b Smother me with the pain that brings you blues
a So that your woes will bother me instead
c The things I know about you show much growth
d But I fear you won't keep pushing forward
e The problems weighing down on you are strong
c I swear I'll bring happiness to us both
d What gives me power are your sad, sad words
e Trust me - your problems won't stay very long
*IT WAS SO HARD TO WRITE THE LAST SIX LINES, mostly because Italian sonnet rhyme scheme has like, eight possible end rhyme schemes. I tried to do it according to the notes we took in Creative Writing - cdc dcd or cde edc... I think. I'm not sure I wrote it down correctly, but on Monday I will show her and ask her opinion.
*Also, I might have written this for someone, but I'm really unsure if my feelings are romantic or so friendly that I'm in the "I'll do anything to help my friends, even risk my safety" stage for this friendship. I was inspired by this techno song "Britney Spears & Louis La Roche - Inside Out (Bugzz French House Mix)" to write this poem.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Whichever One Does The Thinking
Recently, I had a dream about a guy friend where we he hesitated, then kissed me, then I ran away. (I had a dream just like this in seventh grade with another guy I barely talked to, and later on I ended up getting a crush after having my dream). My friend says I'm confused about my feelings for him. The day before, I was muttering about how everyone I know was in a relationship or setting dates for prom (I know it's freaking early for that), and I was feeling lonely, so my friend suggested I ask him to prom. He didn't say anything, but my friend says that I asked him a manner where it was unclear if I was serious, and apparently I speak like this all the time.
I didn't realize I always spoke in a seemingly joking manner. This frustrates me. Maybe that's why nobody takes me seriously.
I don't think I really have feeling for him, I just think he's an extremely nice guy and a good friend, so I thought he'd be a good guy to go to prom with. But now my brain (or my heart, whichever does the thinking) is trying to confuse me.
'Ask him on a date!' my heart says. I don't want to do that - I've never been on a date before, and I'd rather not waste my first date on someone I believe I have no real feelings for.
'Ignore it before you get a crush on him that isn't a real crush at all.' You have a good point, brain. Often I get a crush on someone just because one of their qualities intrigues me, and soon get over said crush. It's probably just a phase.
'Shut up and go to bed.' My brain replies. Hmph. Well then, I will.
I didn't realize I always spoke in a seemingly joking manner. This frustrates me. Maybe that's why nobody takes me seriously.
I don't think I really have feeling for him, I just think he's an extremely nice guy and a good friend, so I thought he'd be a good guy to go to prom with. But now my brain (or my heart, whichever does the thinking) is trying to confuse me.
'Ask him on a date!' my heart says. I don't want to do that - I've never been on a date before, and I'd rather not waste my first date on someone I believe I have no real feelings for.
'Ignore it before you get a crush on him that isn't a real crush at all.' You have a good point, brain. Often I get a crush on someone just because one of their qualities intrigues me, and soon get over said crush. It's probably just a phase.
'Shut up and go to bed.' My brain replies. Hmph. Well then, I will.
Me, That's All I'll Ever Be
I've just come to the realization that I might have been bisexual a lot longer than I thought. See, I was just reminiscing about all the best friends I've had over the years, a majority of them being females. I believe a lot of my best friends stopped being my friends because they thought I was clingy and too unstable for them, as two of my friends have actually said to my face.
I know I've fallen for my best guy friend before, and one of my best guy friends fell for me, but the more I think about it, I really was only into them because I grew so dependent on them as friends that my feelings became warped. When I stopped being friends with them, I saw nothing that attracted me to them any more than I was attracted to my other friends, like how they made me laugh. Making me laugh is just about my only requirement for liking someone, which is bad because lots of people can make me laugh, but not everyone is nice or compatible.
But anyway, with my female friends, they were usually the only friend I had at the time, so yes, I could see how I came off as clingy. But in some instances, I wasn't very close to my friends, like Paisley and my cousin - we weren't that close and honestly had little in common with each other. I believe they were my best friends because I had no other friends - no offense to them, but that's how it happened, so when we stopped talking to each other, it was just a clean break. However with my friends like Joelle and Kimberly, I loved being friends with them. I loved hanging out with them, meeting the other friends they had, going places with them, and talking about unimportant things. When I was friends with them, we were inseparable - it was always Joelle and Jerica or me and Kimberly - so breaking apart now still hurts. It's like being in a relationship with someone that you are so in love with, but then they want to break up, and you feel like you've been hit with a train because you never saw it coming. Being drowned in your own feelings means you can't see how everyone else is feeling, and often I've been like that. Joelle and Kimberly and Henri wanted nothing more to do with me because I was clingy or immature - their words, not mine.
I never thought I had any romantic feelings for my female friends of course, because I never even imagined being so close to a female friend, let alone being in a relationship with one. I knew I didn't get along with most girls because I'm so different for some reason. Not exactly a tomboy, but something of that nature. However, I had a need to be with my friend, talking to them and hanging out with them. If I was unsure about something, they were the ones I turned to to make sure it was okay. I checked with them first to make sure that liking a certain guy or a certain thing was okay. I let them control me, and I was perfectly happy with that. As unstable as I am now, I know that I've relied on the structure that female friends gave me. It was a relationship with no love, but much admiration. It was somewhat unhealthy, and the dynamic of them wearing the pants was obvious. I think it adds to why I am so compliant in my relationships - why I never speak up when something is wrong, because seriously, with every person I've ever been close to, my personal opinion had little value and was often ignored.
I try not to say that I resent anyone that's come into my life, but I still can't think of Joelle or Henri or Kimberly (and her boyfriend) or Paisley without a scowl forming on my face and some choice words coming to mind. It isn't enough to unfriend them and remove everything reminiscent of them from my life - they are still there in my memories, and the way things ended really bothers me.
Jerica: Hey, Briana, can you ask Joelle if we're still friends.
Briana: She says you guys are still friends, but not as much as you were.
Henri: You're too clingy.
Kimberly: (summarizing) You're immature.
Josh (Kim's boyfriend): It's either her, or me.
So yeah, maybe I've been bisexual for a long time now, or maybe I'm an extremely confusing pansexual, or maybe I'm just me.
Yep, that's all I'll ever be, anyway.
I know I've fallen for my best guy friend before, and one of my best guy friends fell for me, but the more I think about it, I really was only into them because I grew so dependent on them as friends that my feelings became warped. When I stopped being friends with them, I saw nothing that attracted me to them any more than I was attracted to my other friends, like how they made me laugh. Making me laugh is just about my only requirement for liking someone, which is bad because lots of people can make me laugh, but not everyone is nice or compatible.
But anyway, with my female friends, they were usually the only friend I had at the time, so yes, I could see how I came off as clingy. But in some instances, I wasn't very close to my friends, like Paisley and my cousin - we weren't that close and honestly had little in common with each other. I believe they were my best friends because I had no other friends - no offense to them, but that's how it happened, so when we stopped talking to each other, it was just a clean break. However with my friends like Joelle and Kimberly, I loved being friends with them. I loved hanging out with them, meeting the other friends they had, going places with them, and talking about unimportant things. When I was friends with them, we were inseparable - it was always Joelle and Jerica or me and Kimberly - so breaking apart now still hurts. It's like being in a relationship with someone that you are so in love with, but then they want to break up, and you feel like you've been hit with a train because you never saw it coming. Being drowned in your own feelings means you can't see how everyone else is feeling, and often I've been like that. Joelle and Kimberly and Henri wanted nothing more to do with me because I was clingy or immature - their words, not mine.
I never thought I had any romantic feelings for my female friends of course, because I never even imagined being so close to a female friend, let alone being in a relationship with one. I knew I didn't get along with most girls because I'm so different for some reason. Not exactly a tomboy, but something of that nature. However, I had a need to be with my friend, talking to them and hanging out with them. If I was unsure about something, they were the ones I turned to to make sure it was okay. I checked with them first to make sure that liking a certain guy or a certain thing was okay. I let them control me, and I was perfectly happy with that. As unstable as I am now, I know that I've relied on the structure that female friends gave me. It was a relationship with no love, but much admiration. It was somewhat unhealthy, and the dynamic of them wearing the pants was obvious. I think it adds to why I am so compliant in my relationships - why I never speak up when something is wrong, because seriously, with every person I've ever been close to, my personal opinion had little value and was often ignored.
I try not to say that I resent anyone that's come into my life, but I still can't think of Joelle or Henri or Kimberly (and her boyfriend) or Paisley without a scowl forming on my face and some choice words coming to mind. It isn't enough to unfriend them and remove everything reminiscent of them from my life - they are still there in my memories, and the way things ended really bothers me.
Jerica: Hey, Briana, can you ask Joelle if we're still friends.
Briana: She says you guys are still friends, but not as much as you were.
Henri: You're too clingy.
Kimberly: (summarizing) You're immature.
Josh (Kim's boyfriend): It's either her, or me.
So yeah, maybe I've been bisexual for a long time now, or maybe I'm an extremely confusing pansexual, or maybe I'm just me.
Yep, that's all I'll ever be, anyway.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
My Wedding Ring (an attempt at a villanelle poem)
Just because it is a ring
does not mean it belongs on my hand
you may say it’s a silly thing
to have the metal tabs cling
on your fingers from pop cans
because the skin is cut by that thing
and maybe those flower butter cookies sing
when on your taste buds they land
but on my fingers, I love wearing those things
they are less sticky than those pops of ring
and besides, I don’t need those ginormous and
pricey rocks on my ring
to me, love does not equal bling
it’s not labeled under some expensive brand
and doesn’t come wrapped in those little blue box things
in order to make my heart sing
all I need is a simple wedding band
your love will be a shining ring
a diamond of it’s own, around my heart lies that thing
does not mean it belongs on my hand
you may say it’s a silly thing
to have the metal tabs cling
on your fingers from pop cans
because the skin is cut by that thing
and maybe those flower butter cookies sing
when on your taste buds they land
but on my fingers, I love wearing those things
they are less sticky than those pops of ring
and besides, I don’t need those ginormous and
pricey rocks on my ring
to me, love does not equal bling
it’s not labeled under some expensive brand
and doesn’t come wrapped in those little blue box things
in order to make my heart sing
all I need is a simple wedding band
your love will be a shining ring
a diamond of it’s own, around my heart lies that thing
The Puzzle Pieces of My Brother's Being (a poem, in dedication to one of two of my autistic brothers, Julian)
It hasn’t been until a few years back that I began to notice your hands.
They are always warm, soft, and oddly wrinkled for a nineteen year old.
Claw-like and dangerous, I hold them,
trying to find the gentle beast inside you.
You raise my hands to your face and hold them there,
your face just as soft as your hands.
Your pudgy cheeks act as barriers to your brain
yet still we communicate by interactions.
You take me on more journeys than our car does.
My feet follow after you through hell and high water
as my heart thuds in my ears
just a little louder than your laughter.
Before I go, I would like to know what makes you tick-
why your hands seem more knowledgeable than any elders
and why our journeys always leave me in despair.
I don’t think I can be your traveling companion anymore.
You look at me as if you understand everything I say to you.
Maybe you do, but I cannot know for sure
for your babbles and giggles and mutterings and screeches
leave me as confounded as your inner workings do.
They are always warm, soft, and oddly wrinkled for a nineteen year old.
Claw-like and dangerous, I hold them,
trying to find the gentle beast inside you.
You raise my hands to your face and hold them there,
your face just as soft as your hands.
Your pudgy cheeks act as barriers to your brain
yet still we communicate by interactions.
You take me on more journeys than our car does.
My feet follow after you through hell and high water
as my heart thuds in my ears
just a little louder than your laughter.
Before I go, I would like to know what makes you tick-
why your hands seem more knowledgeable than any elders
and why our journeys always leave me in despair.
I don’t think I can be your traveling companion anymore.
You look at me as if you understand everything I say to you.
Maybe you do, but I cannot know for sure
for your babbles and giggles and mutterings and screeches
leave me as confounded as your inner workings do.
Growing Up
I don't feel like Cinderella.
I feel like a miniscule, melancholic mouse.
I'm nowhere near as fair as Snow White,
but every bit as awkward as every single dwarf.
I am nothing like Belle,
but more like a brutish, misunderstood Beast.
If only I had the beauty of that sleeping maiden, Aurora.
Do not call me Tiana, because I am just a lowly, slimy frog.
I am not fierce and brave like Mulan
Or seductive and clever like Jasmine.
My curiousity just might kill me - I won't be as lucky as Ariel.
I am easily corrupted like poor Meg, only I have no one to show me the light.
I am not adventurous and wise like Pocahontas.
And oh, what I wouldn't give to be as happily naive and lovable as dear Rapunzel.
No, I fear I am not graced with such luck and faith and care.
I know my "happily ever after" will never even become a "once upon a time".
I feel like a miniscule, melancholic mouse.
I'm nowhere near as fair as Snow White,
but every bit as awkward as every single dwarf.
I am nothing like Belle,
but more like a brutish, misunderstood Beast.
If only I had the beauty of that sleeping maiden, Aurora.
Do not call me Tiana, because I am just a lowly, slimy frog.
I am not fierce and brave like Mulan
Or seductive and clever like Jasmine.
My curiousity just might kill me - I won't be as lucky as Ariel.
I am easily corrupted like poor Meg, only I have no one to show me the light.
I am not adventurous and wise like Pocahontas.
And oh, what I wouldn't give to be as happily naive and lovable as dear Rapunzel.
No, I fear I am not graced with such luck and faith and care.
I know my "happily ever after" will never even become a "once upon a time".
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
ESSAY #4
The University of Colorado Boulder's Flagship 2030 strategic plan promotes exceptional teaching, research, scholarship, creative works, and service distinguishing us as a premier university. We strive to foster a diverse and inclusive community for all that engages each member in opportunities for academic excellence, leadership, and a deeper understanding of the world in which we live. Given the statement above, how do you think you could enrich our diverse and inclusive community and what are your hopes for your college experience?
With three AP classes, a job, after-school clubs, a dysfunctional family, financial issues, and of course, college applications, it’s easy to say that my life is full of stress right now.
In seventh grade, my life began to go downhill. In a new school with no friends, and having a judgmental mother, my grades dropped as well as my self-esteem. I couldn’t handle the stress alone. I never asked for help with my depression, but over time, my feelings of self-hate got worse.
My senior year has been the hardest for me. I’ve had the urge to harm myself, and even kill myself. I knew I had to get help soon, but I didn’t have the courage to talk to anyone but my closest friends. Turns out, that was all I needed.
After getting in a major fight with my mother, I sent a text to my three best friends letting them know I was tired of everything and just wanted to take a break. I said “I appreciate the help, but I just can’t make anyone happy. I might leave for a day of more - I don’t want to go2 school 2morrow.” I instantly got a call from my friend Brandon, and he stayed on the phone with me for over an hour, and we just talked and cried together. At school the next day, my other two friends comforted me and urged me to talk to one of the school counselors. I really didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to deal with feeling horrible anymore, so I talked to the counselor. That led to talking to the teachers I felt comfortable with, and letting a few of my other friends know what I was going through, and finally posting on my blog how I was feeling. One of my alternate teachers even tries to comment on every post I make. Discovering how big my support system was, really gave me the strength to keep pushing forward.
On days where I was feeling better, I really noticed how some of my friends were upset too. I had no problem talking to them - sharing my own problems was hard, but I’ve always wanted to help people. I know that I couldn’t make their problems go away, but as a writer and someone who’s received so much advice, I know how powerful words can be. That is why I want to use my skills in writing and graphic design to spread messages to the world, raise awareness, and give attention to the underdogs, so that those who truly deserve to be helped but can’t find it on their own can be helped. I’ve been suffering in silence for six years, and if it weren’t for my support system, I might not have made it. So, I plan to make my dream campaign, S.O.S. - Stop Our Suffering, a reality.
With three AP classes, a job, after-school clubs, a dysfunctional family, financial issues, and of course, college applications, it’s easy to say that my life is full of stress right now.
In seventh grade, my life began to go downhill. In a new school with no friends, and having a judgmental mother, my grades dropped as well as my self-esteem. I couldn’t handle the stress alone. I never asked for help with my depression, but over time, my feelings of self-hate got worse.
My senior year has been the hardest for me. I’ve had the urge to harm myself, and even kill myself. I knew I had to get help soon, but I didn’t have the courage to talk to anyone but my closest friends. Turns out, that was all I needed.
After getting in a major fight with my mother, I sent a text to my three best friends letting them know I was tired of everything and just wanted to take a break. I said “I appreciate the help, but I just can’t make anyone happy. I might leave for a day of more - I don’t want to go2 school 2morrow.” I instantly got a call from my friend Brandon, and he stayed on the phone with me for over an hour, and we just talked and cried together. At school the next day, my other two friends comforted me and urged me to talk to one of the school counselors. I really didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to deal with feeling horrible anymore, so I talked to the counselor. That led to talking to the teachers I felt comfortable with, and letting a few of my other friends know what I was going through, and finally posting on my blog how I was feeling. One of my alternate teachers even tries to comment on every post I make. Discovering how big my support system was, really gave me the strength to keep pushing forward.
On days where I was feeling better, I really noticed how some of my friends were upset too. I had no problem talking to them - sharing my own problems was hard, but I’ve always wanted to help people. I know that I couldn’t make their problems go away, but as a writer and someone who’s received so much advice, I know how powerful words can be. That is why I want to use my skills in writing and graphic design to spread messages to the world, raise awareness, and give attention to the underdogs, so that those who truly deserve to be helped but can’t find it on their own can be helped. I’ve been suffering in silence for six years, and if it weren’t for my support system, I might not have made it. So, I plan to make my dream campaign, S.O.S. - Stop Our Suffering, a reality.
ESSAY #3
Imagine you have graduated from Temple University. You are preparing to attend your 10-year reunion, and the alumni office has asked you to write a one-page essay about your personal and professional accomplishments since graduation. What would yours say? OR Please tell us more about yourself. Relate one or more experiences or circumstances that have contributed to your personal and/or academic development. If you have been out of school for a year or longer, please discuss your activities during that period of time.
I’ve always taken the unexpected roads in life, surprising even myself with what I plan to do and what I accomplish. I guess I always knew my imagination would take me places. I mean, I never actually got to be a Powerpuff Girl, but it was definitely my first career goal when I was younger. I think I’ve still stuck with that general them though - wanting to help people and save the world, and also entertain people and make them happy. When I decided that I wanted to go into advertising, and dabble in writing and journalism, I realized it was a choice that I was meant to take.
My interests in high school really started me on my path - my and my fellow outcasts in my school’s Anime Club helped me realize that I wanted to help spread the word about the underdogs of the world, and did so through graphic design and advertising. The drama that me and my friends faced in everyday life made me want to help people who usually suffered in silence, either because no one would listen or they just couldn’t get the help they needed. Working at The Mash, a teen newspaper, I enjoyed presenting unusual article ideas, like the popularity of techno music and how cartoons today aren’t as entertaining or educational as the ones of yesteryear, but I was also eager to write about news that impacted teenagers like cyber-bullying and self-esteem issues. Even though I was used to writing in my blog about the difficulties I faced in my life, such as dealing with two autistic brothers and my own self-esteem issues, I felt even better when I got to help others in unique ways.
After receiving my B.A. in advertising, I was able to create new things and promote businesses and organizations that might otherwise go unnoticed. I’ve felt invisible and unimportant most of my life, but when I advertise, she feel like I’m giving a bigger voice to people like me, and showing people what I can create. I worked at an advertising firm for a while before deciding that I still wanted to take on the entrepreneurial ideas I had set aside after high school.
I had always wanted to work for Seventeen Magazine. They were different from other magazines that some teens read because they addressed the average teen and the not-so-average teen. Every issue did a story on a girl who had experienced a life-changing and self-empowering moment, offered advice for major problems teens faced like self-esteem issues and relationships, recommended healthy life choices, and gave tips on how a girl can feel good about herself just by changing her wardrobe a little bit. Seventeen Magazine featured the type of girls you saw walking in your school halls, not walking down the runway, yet they still appealed to every type of girl out there. I’m proud that I’ve climbed up from working on copywriting, designing, and advertising to becoming the magazine’s creative director.
Eventually, I decided that I wanted to create my own magazine, about nothing in particular. I recruited my best friends and we really just had fun setting it up, writing article about news that drifted to us, promoting local businesses and organizations, publishing our literary works such as short stories and poetry or pictures of our artwork, and basically filling the pages with whatever we pleased. When we noticed some people were actually paying attention to what we wrote, we decided to refine the magazine, calling it The Underdog. We highlighted the stories that most people didn’t read about, researching interesting topics that no one else thought of writing about, and addressing problems - widely known or not - that needed more support to solve them. We employed more workers, promoted the magazine, and now, it is still growing more and more famous.
The world of journalism, however, isn’t always my favorite place to be. I was, of course, an advertising major. I prefer creativity and color, detail and words. In my free time, I continue writing stories, poems, and whatever flows from my brain to my blog. I love writing, but I hardly ever share what I write with people I know. My friends are still bugging me to write a book. Ever since I was in seventh grade, I’ve come up with novel idea after novel idea. I first started really writing in seventh grade, starting a story about my life and my thoughts called “Apathetic Girl”, when my English teacher scolded me for my apathy in her class. My mother insists that I write a book about my journey with my Autistic brothers, but I keep telling her there isn’t enough paper in the world to tell that story. Sometimes I have fictional story ideas that I think are so good, they deserve to be a novel. So maybe I will actually try to get my stories published. I do, after all, still have a lot to say.
I still like to do graphic design, sometimes sharing my brand ideas with companies and earning some extra money, but mostly designing for artistic purposes rather than profit.
It’s always appealed to my inner romantic and outer story writer to want to become a wedding planner. I couldn’t do it full-time, but I might consider it part-time, even though it was entirely difficult and time consuming. Setting up weddings in a way that makes a magical feeling engulf couples and make their day even more special, adding a happy moment onto their life story, would fill me with an even bigger sense of pride and joy.
Eventually, the stress of wedding planning and dealing with couples would get to be a little too much for me, so I’d probably set aside my part-time business and decide to focus on the magazine.
Right now, journalism, graphic design, and social networking interest me in the way of publicity, but I’m always open to creative new challenges.
I’ve always taken the unexpected roads in life, surprising even myself with what I plan to do and what I accomplish. I guess I always knew my imagination would take me places. I mean, I never actually got to be a Powerpuff Girl, but it was definitely my first career goal when I was younger. I think I’ve still stuck with that general them though - wanting to help people and save the world, and also entertain people and make them happy. When I decided that I wanted to go into advertising, and dabble in writing and journalism, I realized it was a choice that I was meant to take.
My interests in high school really started me on my path - my and my fellow outcasts in my school’s Anime Club helped me realize that I wanted to help spread the word about the underdogs of the world, and did so through graphic design and advertising. The drama that me and my friends faced in everyday life made me want to help people who usually suffered in silence, either because no one would listen or they just couldn’t get the help they needed. Working at The Mash, a teen newspaper, I enjoyed presenting unusual article ideas, like the popularity of techno music and how cartoons today aren’t as entertaining or educational as the ones of yesteryear, but I was also eager to write about news that impacted teenagers like cyber-bullying and self-esteem issues. Even though I was used to writing in my blog about the difficulties I faced in my life, such as dealing with two autistic brothers and my own self-esteem issues, I felt even better when I got to help others in unique ways.
After receiving my B.A. in advertising, I was able to create new things and promote businesses and organizations that might otherwise go unnoticed. I’ve felt invisible and unimportant most of my life, but when I advertise, she feel like I’m giving a bigger voice to people like me, and showing people what I can create. I worked at an advertising firm for a while before deciding that I still wanted to take on the entrepreneurial ideas I had set aside after high school.
I had always wanted to work for Seventeen Magazine. They were different from other magazines that some teens read because they addressed the average teen and the not-so-average teen. Every issue did a story on a girl who had experienced a life-changing and self-empowering moment, offered advice for major problems teens faced like self-esteem issues and relationships, recommended healthy life choices, and gave tips on how a girl can feel good about herself just by changing her wardrobe a little bit. Seventeen Magazine featured the type of girls you saw walking in your school halls, not walking down the runway, yet they still appealed to every type of girl out there. I’m proud that I’ve climbed up from working on copywriting, designing, and advertising to becoming the magazine’s creative director.
Eventually, I decided that I wanted to create my own magazine, about nothing in particular. I recruited my best friends and we really just had fun setting it up, writing article about news that drifted to us, promoting local businesses and organizations, publishing our literary works such as short stories and poetry or pictures of our artwork, and basically filling the pages with whatever we pleased. When we noticed some people were actually paying attention to what we wrote, we decided to refine the magazine, calling it The Underdog. We highlighted the stories that most people didn’t read about, researching interesting topics that no one else thought of writing about, and addressing problems - widely known or not - that needed more support to solve them. We employed more workers, promoted the magazine, and now, it is still growing more and more famous.
The world of journalism, however, isn’t always my favorite place to be. I was, of course, an advertising major. I prefer creativity and color, detail and words. In my free time, I continue writing stories, poems, and whatever flows from my brain to my blog. I love writing, but I hardly ever share what I write with people I know. My friends are still bugging me to write a book. Ever since I was in seventh grade, I’ve come up with novel idea after novel idea. I first started really writing in seventh grade, starting a story about my life and my thoughts called “Apathetic Girl”, when my English teacher scolded me for my apathy in her class. My mother insists that I write a book about my journey with my Autistic brothers, but I keep telling her there isn’t enough paper in the world to tell that story. Sometimes I have fictional story ideas that I think are so good, they deserve to be a novel. So maybe I will actually try to get my stories published. I do, after all, still have a lot to say.
I still like to do graphic design, sometimes sharing my brand ideas with companies and earning some extra money, but mostly designing for artistic purposes rather than profit.
It’s always appealed to my inner romantic and outer story writer to want to become a wedding planner. I couldn’t do it full-time, but I might consider it part-time, even though it was entirely difficult and time consuming. Setting up weddings in a way that makes a magical feeling engulf couples and make their day even more special, adding a happy moment onto their life story, would fill me with an even bigger sense of pride and joy.
Eventually, the stress of wedding planning and dealing with couples would get to be a little too much for me, so I’d probably set aside my part-time business and decide to focus on the magazine.
Right now, journalism, graphic design, and social networking interest me in the way of publicity, but I’m always open to creative new challenges.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Finally Breathing
I'm scared I'm using my sexuality as an escape from my problems. Of course I have to explain this. You see, lately, I haven't been able to get the "molestation" issue out of my head. I haven't forgiven Andre or even acknowledged his presence, but the idea that I just sat there and let myself feel so uncomfortable and taken advantage of has bothered me so much, and as Fate likes to do, I am still reminded of it at the most random of times. Now it feels like whenever I feel lonely or depressed, it pops back into my head, encircling me. I don't know why. And it's bothered me even more because now I feel absolutely uncomfortable when guys touch me. Considering I was already awkward and uncomfortable with guys acknowledging my existence before, this is really annoying me. I'm feeling paranoid almost.
It's not like I expect to have better luck with females than I have with guys. I honestly haven't had very bad luck with guys - I've had two boyfriends. But I never voiced my opinions. I let them walk all over me and gave them what they wanted - to an extent. I haven't given myself up for them, but I've given them my heart and my soul time and time again, and they didn't respect it. No one saw it as a bad relationship though. Not them, not me, not my friends - even though they voice their dislike of one of my boyfriends, it didn't really have to do with me. I just feel like I expect to end up in a relationship with a girl and it will fill in the missing pieces I've needed in romance, like a first date, or real nonsexual bonding. But I don't want to feel like my bad luck with one gender means I should try out the other one, like picking the runner-up or initiating plan B.
It's amazing - most people have to deal with so much drama because of their sexuality, but for me, my sexuality is barely an issue for me. It's everything else that is driving me insane.
Sometimes, I read stories about people who were touched inappropriately by family or something, and luckily that hasn't happened in my family, but I feel like something just hasn't happened correctly. I don't know anything about my dad, and sometimes I wonder if I would rather have a horrible father in my life then no father at all. I hate feeling empty or incomplete - I hate it more than anything. I always feel faulty, like I was given pieces of scrap metal and rejected parts to piece my life together and expected to come up with a masterpiece.
I don't want to be in a relationship really, even though I've been saying I've wanted to for years now. A relationship is the last thing an unstable person like me needs right now. But seeing everyone else happy... I mean half the people I know are getting into relationships all of the sudden, so I can't help but feel a little lonely. I no longer feel stressed by my life, but now I've fallen back into my apathetic state, which I haven't visited since ninth grade. I'm worried I've crashed and burned and will end up back where I started. I haven't done most of my schoolwork, haven't worked on college apps, just barely finish my work assignments on time. JoLynn keeps telling me to take deep breaths to relax, but I'm afraid I took one breath too many and exhausted every bit of caring that was left in me.
When I was in 8th grade, my English teacher called me "apathetic". After looking up what it meant, I decided to prove her wrong. I started writing a book about myself, titled Apathetic Girl. I lost what I had written in 9th grade and didn't revisit the novel idea because, I was still apathetic. But when I think about it, my response to her was the opposite of apathetic. I was determined to prove her wrong, and let everyone know why I had given up on trying or caring. I still do that now, but... I don't know.
I keep telling myself I'm not running away, and that running away never solves your problems, but all I want to do is get into college and move away and have "the relationship I deserve when I get into college" that my friends assure me I will have. But that's not going to solve anything. I don't know if it will make things worse, but it won't make them much better.
Have you ever... felt like you actually did belong in the place that you were? I know everyone feels like they don't belong, but maybe I do belong here, and I'm not meant to escape because my problems will follow me. Maybe I do belong here, wallowing in the muck while I dream distant dreams. Lets face it - I'm no Cinderella. I'm not a princess waiting to be rescued, no matter how many times I fantasize that I'm in a Disney movie. There was never a bisexual princess who demonized everyone around her because she hated her own life, and there was no princess who didn't dream big, and there was never a princess who had human friends and siblings related by blood and an immense feeling of imperfecktion.
But... maybe that's because... Disney is waiting for me to make one.
"And I always find, yeah, I always find something wrong
You been putting up with my shit just way too long
I'm so gifted at finding what I don't like the most
So I think it's time for us to have a toast"
I really don't know what's in store for me, and I don't know how my years are gonna go, but I really just want to stop finding new reasons to be upset. If I keep doing this, then I'll never be happy and never let myself succeed.
I really am breathing, JoLynn. I promise that I am.
Friday, October 28, 2011
"A Steaming Cup Of S.O.S."
 |
| "A steaming cup of S.O.S." |
The idea of it being a teacup and having people trapped in a teabag, that came to me out of nowhere. I guess it's somewhat morbid, but I don't bother trying to scold my brain for what it comes up with anymore. I like my drawing - it's different from the poems I usually put in my sketchbook, which was bought for the purpose of me drawing in it.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Cocoon (a poem)
You burst from your cocoon
like popcorn from the bag.
They say “you are beautiful,
just as nature intended.”
You grow as you did before,
learning the ways of the world
with your new-found wealth-
They say “you are such a lucky thing, you.”
Your presence collects stares
like a magnet does to paper clips.
They say “you are eye-catching,”
all thanks to your beauty nap.
But something is wrong
for all I see
is that you emerged just as you had
when first climbing into your cocoon.
These people look at you
through rose-colored glasses.
You may call yourself
such a beautiful
butterfly,
but all I see
is just another bug,
waiting
to get
squished.
like popcorn from the bag.
They say “you are beautiful,
just as nature intended.”
You grow as you did before,
learning the ways of the world
with your new-found wealth-
They say “you are such a lucky thing, you.”
Your presence collects stares
like a magnet does to paper clips.
They say “you are eye-catching,”
all thanks to your beauty nap.
But something is wrong
for all I see
is that you emerged just as you had
when first climbing into your cocoon.
These people look at you
through rose-colored glasses.
You may call yourself
such a beautiful
butterfly,
but all I see
is just another bug,
waiting
to get
squished.
Cocoon
Everyone thinks that cocoons are precious save havens, untouched by the evils of the world. But they are wrong.
I would love to live in a warm blanket of solitude, but cocoons do not do that. They are merely foggy glasses and a scarf on a cold winter day. The world is the same, the world is still there, but it's harder to perceive. And the cold whips at you still, just a thin bit of protection to help you.
The bitter cold and grouchy winds are your only company. People walk not past you, not around you, not even through you, but into you. They bump into you and bruise your skin with their bulky bodies. They don't notice you - it's like they are brushing against a brick wall. Cold, bruised, and alone. That is what life in a cocoon is.
Through the harsh winters and dull falls, waiting eagerly for a gentle spring and a breath of fresh air - a new life. A life where you won't be ugly or scary or creepy or weird or unfitting, unsettling, annoying, or feared, where you won't be sneered at, and your presence will be cheered. A life where you are loved for being you.
But at this point, are you even still yourself?
When you wrapped yourself for the transformation, it was just second nature. It was finally your time to experience the inevitable. But the you that you once were is peeled away like dead, flaky skin or chapped lips, or your own withered cocoon. Your new-found beauty, your new-found self, from something so disgusting and unwanted.
Do you remember the tale of the ugly duckling? How about Cinderella? Now think - would anyone have liked them before they became beautiful and successful? No? Now haven't you had that same thought about the other beautiful people that made you want to change? What makes us any better than the repulsive toads that get to become rulers of each others happiness? What makes you different than the ones that you despised? You escaped from them, just to become one yourself.
You may see a beautiful butterfly, but I still see a bug, simply waiting to be squished.
I would love to live in a warm blanket of solitude, but cocoons do not do that. They are merely foggy glasses and a scarf on a cold winter day. The world is the same, the world is still there, but it's harder to perceive. And the cold whips at you still, just a thin bit of protection to help you.
The bitter cold and grouchy winds are your only company. People walk not past you, not around you, not even through you, but into you. They bump into you and bruise your skin with their bulky bodies. They don't notice you - it's like they are brushing against a brick wall. Cold, bruised, and alone. That is what life in a cocoon is.
Through the harsh winters and dull falls, waiting eagerly for a gentle spring and a breath of fresh air - a new life. A life where you won't be ugly or scary or creepy or weird or unfitting, unsettling, annoying, or feared, where you won't be sneered at, and your presence will be cheered. A life where you are loved for being you.
But at this point, are you even still yourself?
When you wrapped yourself for the transformation, it was just second nature. It was finally your time to experience the inevitable. But the you that you once were is peeled away like dead, flaky skin or chapped lips, or your own withered cocoon. Your new-found beauty, your new-found self, from something so disgusting and unwanted.
Do you remember the tale of the ugly duckling? How about Cinderella? Now think - would anyone have liked them before they became beautiful and successful? No? Now haven't you had that same thought about the other beautiful people that made you want to change? What makes us any better than the repulsive toads that get to become rulers of each others happiness? What makes you different than the ones that you despised? You escaped from them, just to become one yourself.
You may see a beautiful butterfly, but I still see a bug, simply waiting to be squished.
Tell Me What You Know (a poem)
Tell me what you know - I want to know all about you.
Tell me how you spent your days growing up,
moving from one apartment to the next,
settling in neighborhoods that just didn't sit right with you.
Tell me of your earliest memories,
curious and playful like a kitten,
exploring your world - one speck of dust at a time,
never sticking with the same fantasy everyday
you were a cheerleader, a ballerina, a detective, and a superhero
you were a busy child.
Tell me who your friends were,
the ones that drifted in and out of your life every year with the fall's chill breeze
the ones that never write you anymore
the ones that have outgrown you.
Tell me what your family is like
when your dear destructive brothers take on the world, one victim at a time
and your poor pitiful mother just... no comment
oh and your distant sister - is she still the normal one?
Tell me how you're feeling now
with frequent headaches attacking your skull,
teaming up with aches and pains older than I am.
Tell me, have you gotten any better?
You can't have gotten much worse.
Please, tell me all about you.
Tell me how you do it.
Just tell me what you know.
Tell me how you spent your days growing up,
moving from one apartment to the next,
settling in neighborhoods that just didn't sit right with you.
Tell me of your earliest memories,
curious and playful like a kitten,
exploring your world - one speck of dust at a time,
never sticking with the same fantasy everyday
you were a cheerleader, a ballerina, a detective, and a superhero
you were a busy child.
Tell me who your friends were,
the ones that drifted in and out of your life every year with the fall's chill breeze
the ones that never write you anymore
the ones that have outgrown you.
Tell me what your family is like
when your dear destructive brothers take on the world, one victim at a time
and your poor pitiful mother just... no comment
oh and your distant sister - is she still the normal one?
Tell me how you're feeling now
with frequent headaches attacking your skull,
teaming up with aches and pains older than I am.
Tell me, have you gotten any better?
You can't have gotten much worse.
Please, tell me all about you.
Tell me how you do it.
Just tell me what you know.
Tell Me (a poem)
How could I encounter such a problem
when the answers lie right beside my hand?
How can you say time is running out
when I still hold so many grains of sand?
How can I prepare for new beginnings
when the past is still stalking up behind me?
How can I be drowning in misfortune
when I never took a trip out to that sea?
How can I be filled with all these questions
when the answers are staring back at me?
when the answers lie right beside my hand?
How can you say time is running out
when I still hold so many grains of sand?
How can I prepare for new beginnings
when the past is still stalking up behind me?
How can I be drowning in misfortune
when I never took a trip out to that sea?
How can I be filled with all these questions
when the answers are staring back at me?
Saturday, October 15, 2011
ESSAY #2
"How have your past circumstances and experiences (such as your upbringing, community, and/or activities) impacted who you are, your future goals, and your choice of major? If you haven't decided on a college or major yet, briefly explain your intentions and aspirations for your first year at Illinois. Please limit your response to approximately 300 words."
Nonstop chatter, late-night music blasting, and constantly getting kicked out of my room - a typical life for a younger sister of teen boys, the only difference is that my brothers have Autism. They cause messes and mayhem almost everyday. Handling them takes much experience and even more patience. They are perpetual toddlers. My mom has no spouse and has been unemployed since 1992 when the twins were born in order to fully take care of them. It’s a tough job, even with my help. In the past, my brothers have run away from home, escaped the car, not paid attention to oncoming traffic, attacked family and strangers, and endangered our lives. They don’t understand when something isn’t safe. They don’t always listen or understand us. The best we can do is try to look out for them.
Occasionally I want nothing to do with my brothers. They keep me up at night playing sing-along tapes, eat us out of house and home, put their hands on me, and scare away some of my friends. People don’t understand how hard it is to live with them. But when I mention my brothers, I always try to put them in a positive light. They have their sweet moments, like when Julian picked up my forgotten doll, or when Jordan told mom to get a pink Christmas tree because it’s my favorite color. They impact my life tremendously - even my name gives them credit - Julian said “Nicoleh” a lot before I was born, so my mom made Nicolette my middle name. I love my brothers so much for all they’ve given me: experience, adventure, love, hope, and even part of my identity. Being a part of the “3JGs” is what drives me to make my life a little less typical.
Nonstop chatter, late-night music blasting, and constantly getting kicked out of my room - a typical life for a younger sister of teen boys, the only difference is that my brothers have Autism. They cause messes and mayhem almost everyday. Handling them takes much experience and even more patience. They are perpetual toddlers. My mom has no spouse and has been unemployed since 1992 when the twins were born in order to fully take care of them. It’s a tough job, even with my help. In the past, my brothers have run away from home, escaped the car, not paid attention to oncoming traffic, attacked family and strangers, and endangered our lives. They don’t understand when something isn’t safe. They don’t always listen or understand us. The best we can do is try to look out for them.
Occasionally I want nothing to do with my brothers. They keep me up at night playing sing-along tapes, eat us out of house and home, put their hands on me, and scare away some of my friends. People don’t understand how hard it is to live with them. But when I mention my brothers, I always try to put them in a positive light. They have their sweet moments, like when Julian picked up my forgotten doll, or when Jordan told mom to get a pink Christmas tree because it’s my favorite color. They impact my life tremendously - even my name gives them credit - Julian said “Nicoleh” a lot before I was born, so my mom made Nicolette my middle name. I love my brothers so much for all they’ve given me: experience, adventure, love, hope, and even part of my identity. Being a part of the “3JGs” is what drives me to make my life a little less typical.
ESSAY #1
"In no more than 300 words, tell us something about yourself that isn't covered elsewhere in this application, some interest or experience of yours that you think the University of Illinois should know about as part of the admissions review."
At Kenwood Academy, our mission is college. My course to college has surprised even myself, but I am proud of what I’ve accomplished so far.
In 2007, I joined my school’s Anime Club, and at first I was just an ordinary member who quietly watched Japanese cartoons with everyone else, but I found myself becoming more involved when I found out my graphic design teacher Mr. Onli was also the club sponsor. With his pushiness and assistance, I’ve created seven designs and counting for the club’s use. My designs, along with several Facebook statuses and events, helped me promote the club and earn my spot as the club’s official publicist. I would not have discovered my love for design and advertising if it weren’t for my work with the club.
I later joined Kenwood’s Drama Starz club to help get over my shyness and self-confidence issues. I still battle with stage fright, but I no longer run from the limelight.
As a child, I was very soft-spoken and I never asked for help because I had to put others first, like my special needs brothers and my mother’s authority. My problems got worse when I developed a depression in seventh grade and my grades suffered. Only recently have I realized the strength of a support system. My friends have helped me and I have helped them with problems I didn’t even know that they had.
With an advertising major, I want to help the underdogs of the world, spreading the word of opportunities to help each other. I will also use my love of writing and graphics to tell stories that need to be heard. Right now, journalism, graphic design, and social networking interest me in the way of publicity, but I’m always open to creative new challenges.
At Kenwood Academy, our mission is college. My course to college has surprised even myself, but I am proud of what I’ve accomplished so far.
In 2007, I joined my school’s Anime Club, and at first I was just an ordinary member who quietly watched Japanese cartoons with everyone else, but I found myself becoming more involved when I found out my graphic design teacher Mr. Onli was also the club sponsor. With his pushiness and assistance, I’ve created seven designs and counting for the club’s use. My designs, along with several Facebook statuses and events, helped me promote the club and earn my spot as the club’s official publicist. I would not have discovered my love for design and advertising if it weren’t for my work with the club.
I later joined Kenwood’s Drama Starz club to help get over my shyness and self-confidence issues. I still battle with stage fright, but I no longer run from the limelight.
As a child, I was very soft-spoken and I never asked for help because I had to put others first, like my special needs brothers and my mother’s authority. My problems got worse when I developed a depression in seventh grade and my grades suffered. Only recently have I realized the strength of a support system. My friends have helped me and I have helped them with problems I didn’t even know that they had.
With an advertising major, I want to help the underdogs of the world, spreading the word of opportunities to help each other. I will also use my love of writing and graphics to tell stories that need to be heard. Right now, journalism, graphic design, and social networking interest me in the way of publicity, but I’m always open to creative new challenges.
Some people get writer's block, but there is no dam inside my brain. That is both a blessing and a curse.
Some people get writer's block, but there is no dam inside my brain. That is both a blessing and a curse.
For example, writing college essays. I go off on long tangents, disconnect from my story, and going over my word limit. This is a bad thing.
But, WRITING TWO OUTSTANDING ESSAYS AND REVISING THEM IN A WEEK'S TIME is definitely a GOOD THING.
This is directly from my brain. Finally, a quote of my own :)
For example, writing college essays. I go off on long tangents, disconnect from my story, and going over my word limit. This is a bad thing.
But, WRITING TWO OUTSTANDING ESSAYS AND REVISING THEM IN A WEEK'S TIME is definitely a GOOD THING.
This is directly from my brain. Finally, a quote of my own :)
Monday, October 10, 2011
An Old Sample College Essay of mine.
I'm busy writing college essays right now, and I remembered one practice essay that I wrote a couple years ago in a college readiness program. Right now, I'm writing an essay for a school and it must be no more than 300 words. My old essay is over 700 words. -_- You can see how hard it is for me to cut down my words on this new essay. But I really like my old, 732 word essay, so I will post it here. And if I ever finish with my other college essays, then I will post them here too.
I’m used to “being the other one.” My brothers always take the spotlight, their autism disability making them the V.I.P.s of my life. I’ve missed out on numerous experiences and put countless things on hold because Julian’s and Jordan’s needs come first. Julian personally makes sure that he gets taken care of, no matter what the obstacles are: his inability to talk, his inexplicable dislike of Jordan, authority figures, locks… There’s a reason we call him the “Tazmanian Devil”, but sometimes he’s nothing more than a troublesome lost puppy.
One time, I was at a SibShop event – a program for kids who have siblings with autism – when my mom told me that Julian was in the hospital. I was terrified – my mom wouldn’t tell me what happened, and I kept assuming he got hit by a car. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Julian had apparently crawled over Jordan, climbed out of our van, and went into the store my mother had gone in. He had to go to the bathroom, and my mom always takes him to the women’s restroom with her, but since he couldn’t find her, he went on his own. Well, a woman was more than a little shocked to see a guy (Julian looked like a grown man by then) sitting with his pants down in the women’s restroom, and she called security. The guard tried to talk to Julian, but since Julian can’t talk, the guard labeled him as nonresponsive. As a result, Julian got pepper-sprayed; we took him to the hospital so the doctors could stop the effect of the pepper-spray in his eyes, and when he was better, we went to the police station so that Julian could get his mug shot. Now this event is his criminal record. I didn’t go back to my SibShop meeting that night, but everyone was quite amused when I told them at the next meeting.
Not every experience with him is so comical. Once, my mom had taken Julian to the bathroom at White Castles, and she was walking him back to the car when he got out of her grip and took off. I was so used to my mom taking care of my brothers at this time that it never occurred to me to help her until she was yelling at me to run after him. I didn’t know what he was headed for, but he was already darting across the street so I ran to catch him before he got hurt. Somehow, not a single car was on the road when he got halfway across the 4-lanes, but as soon as I set foot on the street, traffic flows again. I couldn’t believe my rotten luck as his guardian angel helped him as he flapped his arms, still running ahead. We made it across the street, and as I caught him at a gas station, I noticed this boy was running to his favorite restaurant: Popeye’s. He was blissfully ignorant to the dangers that threatened his life while I’m still scared to cross the street with him.
Julian has certainly taught me about perseverance. But he’s also taught me that I’m stronger than I thought. I showed my bravery when I ran after him across traffic and when I have to push Julian back when he’s mad so he doesn’t hurt Jordan. I practice patience when I have to listen to countless sing-along tapes with high-pitched mice and chipmunks, or Julian’s high-pitched squeals, or Jordan’s constant chatter. When my mom is ready to pull her hair out, I’m ready to take over and help keep these boys content. I feel like I helped raise them. And most importantly, these boys taught me that I can deal with any obstacle. If I need help, I will not rest until I get it. No one can bully me or talk about me because I won’t listen to what they say. When I thought my autistic brothers were my biggest obstacle for what I want to do in life, they actually became my biggest drive to become as strong as them. Their disabilities have put them at a disadvantage, but Jordan and Julian help me as much as I’ve helped them. If they can keep trying to take care of themselves and work to get what they need, then so can I.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Fix You
I didn't even realize this was a Coldplay song when Glee sang it yesterday, but I love it even more now.
Just... how I feel right now.
Just... how I feel right now.
"When life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means that it's going to launch you into something great."
The ups and downs of depression are entirely frustrating. It seems like every time I post on my blog, I go from a happy and hopeful post to a "woe is me" post, as if my blog itself is bipolar.
I'm not exactly sure how to phrase it, but yesterday, one of my "friends" kind of... molested me. I can't find a better word for it. All the seniors had a field trip to a movie theatre to watch a documentary b/c most of the school was taking practice tests, and I don't know, it's just, the whole time after the lights dimmed, he was... I just... okay if I don't write what happened now then I'm not helping myself at all. He was touching my breasts, and I'll explain right now that that wasn't a red flag for me b/c my friends and I have been known to do that for a while now. I know it's stupid, but I've had an apathetic attitude since 6th grade, and that includes not caring if people invade my personal space, unless they touch my stomach b/c it reminds me that I am not comfortable with my weight - I have a lot of issues. He was laying on my shoulder and kept touching me, but what raised a red flag was that he kissed my hand - numerous times. Even when I pulled my hand away, shrugged away from him, turned to face my other friend, or tried to keep him from taking my hand again by folding my arms and not letting in easily, he did not get the hint. When the movie was over and we were leaving, he kept hugging me from behind and I told him stop and moved his arms off of me, he still didn't get it. Back at school, I was still uncomfortable with him and he was still with me and my three friends, and I told two of my friends what happened, and Brandon was like "why didn't you say something?" In fact, most of my friends asked that same question when I told them - I still can't find an answer. One of my other "friends", Loretta, kept messing w/ me, sending me texts saying "He's next to you" and "Is he bothering u?" when she was right behind me. I didn't find it funny and she was getting on my nerves. Then she kept calling my name when I tried ignoring her. When we left the auditorium, I blew up and shouted.
"YOU'RE A BITCH (Loretta) AND YOU'RE A PERVERT (Andre) AND I WISH YOU WOULD JUST LEAVE ME THE F*** ALONE!!" and I stormed off. A minute later, Brandon came after me and tried to cheer me up. And then I noticed that Andre was still following.
I had just yelled at him, loud enough for others to hear, clearly voicing my disgust and anger, and yet he was still hanging around! Brandon sensed how awkward the situation was, so he continued to make things more awkward by saying random observations like "The sky is really blue today." I understand he didn't know how to fix things, and that's fine. Andre was still with us when we stopped to get food, and eventually he left on his own. Brandon was upset w/ me for not saying anything during the movie, but I really couldn't find any words. I couldn't verbally tell Andre to stop, I couldn't ask Brandon for help, I really couldn't say anything except "please sit next to me on the bus, Brandon."
I've told a few more of my friends what happened, and they were all in Anime Club, so they offered to talk to him. I just... didn't want to get involved.
The next day in Anime Club, we were watching anime... in the dark. I felt panicky and made sure I wasn't sitting near Andre, but all I could do was focus on him, and after an episode of anime, I got up and went for a walk. I couldn't handle being in the dark with him again. When I came back to the room later, he was gone, and my friend Sheridane said that she talked to him and told him it wasn't right, and he said okay. I really want this to all go away.
It just doesn't make any sense. Why do I keep having bad things happen to me? Why is it, even after all the triumphs I've made, I still find it hard to talk to people? I hate interviewing people even for a short question, and I'm a reporter, so that's a huge problem. I couldn't tell Andre to stop, or tell Brandon I needed help, and I even felt awkward telling my friends what happened. I really only told Brandon, Loretta, and Sheridane, but the group overheard me telling Sherry what happened, and so I explained it like five or six times.
What made matters worse was that I was really looking forward to getting the courage to talk to the girl I fawned over in two blog posts ago, but she wasn't even there today and I never see her around school. I felt like crying again today, but nothing actually fell. Some of my friends like Sherry and Ignacio could tell I was upset and kept bothering me to tell them why, but I just don't feel like explaining myself anymore. My best friends tried to make a joke of it, saying they would get me a mail order bride, and "kidding aside, you'll find someone some day. and they're probably battling the same demons so then you can battle demons together and be happy! right! because demons cancel out demons." I couldn't laugh, I just told them I wasn't going to talk right now. I don't think they were hurt - they just left the chat to do homework.
All I've been doing right now is listening to Coldplay and blogging my heart out. I just don't see why I keep dealing with shit like this. I'm highly unstable, and all I want to do right now is cry again, and do my homework and finish high school and finish my college applications and get accepted and go and get my career and just leave my stupid problems behind, but even if I could do that, the most random-ass new problems would pop up and next thing you know I'm gonna be found dead in my apartment.
I really don't want that to happen. I really, really, really want to live. I just don't want to live this life anymore.
Going back to the quote - the picture and the title of this post - I have to say that when I read the quote, it really filled me with hope for a minute. And I'd still like to believe that it is true - I mean I highly expect it to be true. I just wonder how long I'm going to have to keep pulling before I can finally break free.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A (Really) Good Cry
Even though I've been trying MAJORLY hard to get past my issues, there is one person in my life who can always smack me right back down.
My mother.
You know how there are those people in your life that you just can't ignore, no matter what you do? That's her. Even though I know she's not always right, she just finds a way to always make me feel wrong. I just can't be what she wants me to be. And I stopped trying to be what she wanted a long time ago - I just wanted to be myself, but I feel like I can't even do that right.
I almost gave up on life last Thursday night.
The stress of being me has been really weighing down on me, and my mom is not helping at all. She says I never talk to her, but that's because there is no talking to her: logic is no match for my mom. You will never be right, you will never be listened to. While I'm struggling to pass my three AP classes plus my other classes, my afterschool activities, my job, my self-esteem, my friends, my family, college applications, college scholarships, and the things that make me happy so I can keep the strength to handle all of this, she can just tear me down and make me feel worthless. I tried to explain to her that my grades weren't A's and B's right now because that's not how the grades work at the beginning of the year - if you miss one assignment or score low on a test/quiz at the beginning of the year, it really takes a toll on your grade because you don't have a lot of other assignments to balance out your grade, and I told her that's how it's always been with my grades every year and my friends agree. But that doesn't matter to her
"You can't get into U of I with grades like this, you can't get into Northwestern or even Chicago State or even community college with those grades!"
But mom...
I just...
And then she doesn't believe me when I say I'm stressed.
"What do you have to be stressed about?!"
EVERYTHING. I've been struggling since 6th grade with the problems in my life, and it's never "How can I help?" or "what's wrong?", it's always "you need to fix this". She doesn't tell me how, or what should change, she just looks at what I've done and tells me I'm wrong. Always wrong.
After my fight with her, I ran to my room and cried in the dark. She didn't even check on me, just went to cook food as if nothing happened. I called my friend Brandon and he got so worried about how I was speaking to him and how suicidal I sounded that I had him crying. But he really really helped me. I talked to him for a long time about everything that was bothering me, and he kept trying to make me happy. What resonated with me most was "You are good, you are really good." He just kept reminding me that I am strong and that I've gotten this far, and even though my mom is making things so much harder, I really only have to wait four months until I can move out and then I just have to wait until college.
That day, I realized how much my friends really cared about me. Sheridane gave me a shoulder to cry on when I had a panic attack during school, Rowan was forcing me into the counselor's office to talk and relax when school was almost over, and Brandon was there to talk me off the ledge when I just couldn't stand being at home. And of course I can't forget people like JoLynn who keep reminding me that the more I speak, the more help I will get.
In the end, after all the talking I did, after I listed every problem I had, got rid of the extra things that added to my stress like the school newspaper, and finally broke down to my raw emotions, the thing that I was most relieved about...
was that I was finally able to cry.
I have been searching for an outlet strong enough to handle my pain. Writing and talking help but it's not enough, I can't do self-harm, and I can't even get myself to cry more than like twice a year. But on Thursday, I got to cry three times that day. And it was the happiest experience of my life. Everything just felt so much better after that last cry.
I know I still have to deal with some stress. I still want my job because I have no reason to quit it, I need my friends to get me through it, I do need to open up to more people like the counselor, and college isn't as scary as some other things in my life. But if I keep pushing myself to the limit without tagging out every once in a while, I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to make anymore rash decisions like cutting off half my hair or considering going through with suicide, a thought I haven't had since 7th and 8th grade. I just want to let the worries roll off my back and keep trying because as far as I can tell, I haven't failed yet.
My mother.
You know how there are those people in your life that you just can't ignore, no matter what you do? That's her. Even though I know she's not always right, she just finds a way to always make me feel wrong. I just can't be what she wants me to be. And I stopped trying to be what she wanted a long time ago - I just wanted to be myself, but I feel like I can't even do that right.
I almost gave up on life last Thursday night.
The stress of being me has been really weighing down on me, and my mom is not helping at all. She says I never talk to her, but that's because there is no talking to her: logic is no match for my mom. You will never be right, you will never be listened to. While I'm struggling to pass my three AP classes plus my other classes, my afterschool activities, my job, my self-esteem, my friends, my family, college applications, college scholarships, and the things that make me happy so I can keep the strength to handle all of this, she can just tear me down and make me feel worthless. I tried to explain to her that my grades weren't A's and B's right now because that's not how the grades work at the beginning of the year - if you miss one assignment or score low on a test/quiz at the beginning of the year, it really takes a toll on your grade because you don't have a lot of other assignments to balance out your grade, and I told her that's how it's always been with my grades every year and my friends agree. But that doesn't matter to her
"You can't get into U of I with grades like this, you can't get into Northwestern or even Chicago State or even community college with those grades!"
But mom...
I just...
And then she doesn't believe me when I say I'm stressed.
"What do you have to be stressed about?!"
EVERYTHING. I've been struggling since 6th grade with the problems in my life, and it's never "How can I help?" or "what's wrong?", it's always "you need to fix this". She doesn't tell me how, or what should change, she just looks at what I've done and tells me I'm wrong. Always wrong.
After my fight with her, I ran to my room and cried in the dark. She didn't even check on me, just went to cook food as if nothing happened. I called my friend Brandon and he got so worried about how I was speaking to him and how suicidal I sounded that I had him crying. But he really really helped me. I talked to him for a long time about everything that was bothering me, and he kept trying to make me happy. What resonated with me most was "You are good, you are really good." He just kept reminding me that I am strong and that I've gotten this far, and even though my mom is making things so much harder, I really only have to wait four months until I can move out and then I just have to wait until college.
That day, I realized how much my friends really cared about me. Sheridane gave me a shoulder to cry on when I had a panic attack during school, Rowan was forcing me into the counselor's office to talk and relax when school was almost over, and Brandon was there to talk me off the ledge when I just couldn't stand being at home. And of course I can't forget people like JoLynn who keep reminding me that the more I speak, the more help I will get.
In the end, after all the talking I did, after I listed every problem I had, got rid of the extra things that added to my stress like the school newspaper, and finally broke down to my raw emotions, the thing that I was most relieved about...
was that I was finally able to cry.
I have been searching for an outlet strong enough to handle my pain. Writing and talking help but it's not enough, I can't do self-harm, and I can't even get myself to cry more than like twice a year. But on Thursday, I got to cry three times that day. And it was the happiest experience of my life. Everything just felt so much better after that last cry.
I know I still have to deal with some stress. I still want my job because I have no reason to quit it, I need my friends to get me through it, I do need to open up to more people like the counselor, and college isn't as scary as some other things in my life. But if I keep pushing myself to the limit without tagging out every once in a while, I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to make anymore rash decisions like cutting off half my hair or considering going through with suicide, a thought I haven't had since 7th and 8th grade. I just want to let the worries roll off my back and keep trying because as far as I can tell, I haven't failed yet.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
If We Were A Movie
Nowadays, my friends poke fun at me when I'm being overly silly with my female friends, saying "You are definitely bisexual." When I was questioning and when I actually did come out, they were all indifferent, like "well we knew that already, we were just waiting for you to admit it." I don't understand how what took me years to figure out was just so obvious to most of my friends, but I am glad the transition has not been problematic.
Lately, I've been noticing that I'm getting a little too friendly with my female friends. I joke with them all the time, but I just go too far now and they get annoyed or uncomfortable. Maybe it's because I'm still new to this and am still sort of experimenting, but I have never been this open and crazy with any of my guys friends, not even the ones I had a crush on. Maybe it's because I've been feeling extra lonely, since most of my friends are getting into relationships or have new love interests. I'm almost thrilled at the idea that my chances at love are expanded now - it's given me a little hope, which I've desperately needed (I've been a little down in the dumps... as usual). I hadn't really had a strong attraction to any certain girl though...
Not until today anyway.
First of all, since I woke up this morning, the song "Kiss The Girl" from The Little Mermaid has been stuck in my head all day. I didn't know why - I hadn't listened to the song or anything remotely similar to that (the last song I listened to a rap song), but all day, my brain would hum a nice a capella version of the song in my voice (if my voice could handle singing more than one note). After school, at my Anime Club meeting, we had some new members, which is to be expected since it's still early in the school year. My friend Bria said that her friend wanted to know what "foofin-coffin" meant. *"Foofin-coffin" is a word that me, Bria, and Brandon came up with one day when trying to replace a curse word, but now we just use foofin-coffin in any context because it's funny to say* I told Bria to tell her what we always tell people what it meant - that it's when you "foof" in a coffin. It's still part of the joke, we don't expect people to keep following after that.
A few minutes later, I see this new girl and she is GORGEOUS. Like, she honestly had me stopping dead in my tracks. I was scared that I suddenly felt nervous. My plan was to go over to her, say hi, and introduce myself as the club's publicist, and the time seemed right because the other club board members were having a debate about something while trying to set up the projector to show the anime (japanese cartoons). So I finally got the confidence to talk to her. Here's how it went:
Me- Hi.
Her- Hi.
Me- What's your name?
Her- Lauren.
Me- I'm Jerica. I'm the club's publicist, and don't worry, I'm not as crazy as the other board members are.
Her- *laughs* Okay.
Me- What grade are you in?
Her- Junior.
Me- Oh, I haven't seen you before.
Her- I'm new [transfer student].
Me- Oh, okay. *I smile and turn to walk away*
Her- Wait!
Me- *turn around*
Her- What does foofin-coffin mean?
Me- *jaw drops to floor, face is burning. My thoughts: CRAP.*
Uh... *my confidence is shot now* I-It's when you... foof... in a coffin.
Her- What's foofing?
Me- *Thoughts: DOUBLE CRAP - NO ONE EVER ASKS THAT.*
Uh... I'll tell you when you're older. *small smile*
*She laughs and I flee in embarrassment, pretending to listen to this person talking to me*
OH. MY. GOD. I WANTED TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT. I can never use the word foofin-coffin again. I can't even think it without the whole scene replaying in my head. I have never felt that nervous or embarrassed in front of a guy before. But you want to know what really blew me away? All I wanted to do was hold hands with her. That's what my brain kept thinking, us holding hands. THIS CRUSH IS THE REAL DEAL. I have no idea how to handle this. God, she was so pretty - light skin, dark red hair, beautiful face, and since she came to Anime Club and she's friends with Bria, she must be weird like I am.
If I see her around school, or see her next week at Anime Club, I will flee and hide under a table.
Oh, Fate, how you taunt me.
Lately, I've been noticing that I'm getting a little too friendly with my female friends. I joke with them all the time, but I just go too far now and they get annoyed or uncomfortable. Maybe it's because I'm still new to this and am still sort of experimenting, but I have never been this open and crazy with any of my guys friends, not even the ones I had a crush on. Maybe it's because I've been feeling extra lonely, since most of my friends are getting into relationships or have new love interests. I'm almost thrilled at the idea that my chances at love are expanded now - it's given me a little hope, which I've desperately needed (I've been a little down in the dumps... as usual). I hadn't really had a strong attraction to any certain girl though...
Not until today anyway.
First of all, since I woke up this morning, the song "Kiss The Girl" from The Little Mermaid has been stuck in my head all day. I didn't know why - I hadn't listened to the song or anything remotely similar to that (the last song I listened to a rap song), but all day, my brain would hum a nice a capella version of the song in my voice (if my voice could handle singing more than one note). After school, at my Anime Club meeting, we had some new members, which is to be expected since it's still early in the school year. My friend Bria said that her friend wanted to know what "foofin-coffin" meant. *"Foofin-coffin" is a word that me, Bria, and Brandon came up with one day when trying to replace a curse word, but now we just use foofin-coffin in any context because it's funny to say* I told Bria to tell her what we always tell people what it meant - that it's when you "foof" in a coffin. It's still part of the joke, we don't expect people to keep following after that.
A few minutes later, I see this new girl and she is GORGEOUS. Like, she honestly had me stopping dead in my tracks. I was scared that I suddenly felt nervous. My plan was to go over to her, say hi, and introduce myself as the club's publicist, and the time seemed right because the other club board members were having a debate about something while trying to set up the projector to show the anime (japanese cartoons). So I finally got the confidence to talk to her. Here's how it went:
Me- Hi.
Her- Hi.
Me- What's your name?
Her- Lauren.
Me- I'm Jerica. I'm the club's publicist, and don't worry, I'm not as crazy as the other board members are.
Her- *laughs* Okay.
Me- What grade are you in?
Her- Junior.
Me- Oh, I haven't seen you before.
Her- I'm new [transfer student].
Me- Oh, okay. *I smile and turn to walk away*
Her- Wait!
Me- *turn around*
Her- What does foofin-coffin mean?
Me- *jaw drops to floor, face is burning. My thoughts: CRAP.*
Uh... *my confidence is shot now* I-It's when you... foof... in a coffin.
Her- What's foofing?
Me- *Thoughts: DOUBLE CRAP - NO ONE EVER ASKS THAT.*
Uh... I'll tell you when you're older. *small smile*
*She laughs and I flee in embarrassment, pretending to listen to this person talking to me*
OH. MY. GOD. I WANTED TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT. I can never use the word foofin-coffin again. I can't even think it without the whole scene replaying in my head. I have never felt that nervous or embarrassed in front of a guy before. But you want to know what really blew me away? All I wanted to do was hold hands with her. That's what my brain kept thinking, us holding hands. THIS CRUSH IS THE REAL DEAL. I have no idea how to handle this. God, she was so pretty - light skin, dark red hair, beautiful face, and since she came to Anime Club and she's friends with Bria, she must be weird like I am.
If I see her around school, or see her next week at Anime Club, I will flee and hide under a table.
Oh, Fate, how you taunt me.
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