Men Don't Lead Women Out of Closets

This is something that just spouted out of my mouth in a conversation about relationships, and I realize how true (and hilarious) this really is.

I must be the strangest bisexual female out there, because while I am interested in females, I am terrified of actually getting to know them romantically or... physically. And between high school drama and the media telling me men are cheating scum who make it so you can never love again but you still want to try because you have some innate desire to continue our dysfunctional species, I'm not so thrilled about trying to find a guy either. So, what exactly am I looking for?

I haven't figured that out yet, but then again, I'm only 17. This could be a phase for all I know. But, if I do stick with the way my sexuality is heading, I'll be leaning towards girls for a while.

But back to my statement: "Men don't lead women out of closets." It just doesn't happen. See, if you are a straight female, or any female really, the chances of a man getting you to leave your heavenly closet is about as easy as wrestling chocolate from our mouths. I wouldn't depart from my clothes unless a guy held a spanking new credit card in his hands for me to use to my heart's content. I'm not a gold digger, I just appreciate a good pair of shoes... and multiple pairs of jeans... and perhaps another sweater...

Now, if you are a lesbian or bisexual female, you're going to have some ignorant men telling you that you just need the right guy to set you straight. That is more insulting than someone calling me a faggot right to my face. Because not only does that statement tell me that I'm wrong in loving a woman, but it also makes me feel like a man is belittling me, and as history proves, women don't like it when a man tries to "put them in their place." It wasn't my decision to have these feelings, but it was my decision to accept them and pursue them, and I will not be insulted or ashamed of doing what I want to do to make myself happy. If I let that happen, then I'd have another thing to add to my depression, and pardon my French, but FUCK THAT.

If I want to sit in my closet surrounded by beautiful clothes while I kiss my girlfriend under a rack of shirts, then I will. And I will not let a man try to pull me away from that paradise.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I know, I just turned everything around at the last moment, but maybe I'm just writing the wrong story with the right character, instead of the other way around. I don't know. Haven't I always pulled it together before?

"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.  

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.

"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.

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.

Sick, Stress, And PMS

Okay, that last part may have been too much information for you, but like I said in my previous blog post, I have way too much going on, and now I finally agree with what my mother has been saying to me since 6th grade when I got my first C- "You can't afford to miss school, you can't afford to get sick."

Being sick means being out of the game for school and work (well, I still had work phone call, but I was so frazzled and now my head hurts).

My mom argued with me this morning about whether or not I was sick. That annoyed me, since I've told her at least three times yesterday that I wasn't feeling well (long, LONG story to explain the whole thing, so I won't bother you). By the way, I cut my hair after having an argument with her (about my hair... yeah I need to talk to my school counselor or something - that was irrational), and since it's only on one side of my hair, I dunno if she's seen it yet. She hasn't yelled at me for it, so it's a mystery. She usually notices a speck of dirt on my floor, so anticipating her reaction is worrying me.

I had a breakdown when talking to my granny on the phone. I mean, I finally let a family member in on my problems, and she understands, but there isn't much she can do. Apparently, she recommended my mom take ANGER MANAGEMENT classes. Of course, my mom would never do that, but I didn't really think of her rashness as an anger problem. It's frustrating seeing my family attack my granny - mom and uncle verbally, sometimes my brother physically. She doesn't deserve that and she just wants to help, even if our situation may be beyond anyone's control. She's the one that recommend I talk to my school counselor when I go back to school (end my sick day), and I've been fighting that option since 7th grade when I first realized I had depression, but I'm tired of fighting my family and myself. What can it hurt, right?

So right now, I'm going to find out what my homework is, shut myself up in my room (with the fan on HIGH - god, I hope I don't have the flu), and try to do make-up work while I fantasize about working for Seventeen magazine AND work on my entry for designing a prom dress contest ($25,000 scholarship money AND a trip to NYC?! Sign me up)!

Tired of Living The 'Charlie Brown' Life

I'm having a Charlie Brown moment. I am so stressed that I wish I had a friend that only charged a nickel for advice (even though Lucy wasn't really a licensed therapist, and wasn't very good either, but I guess that's what you get for 5 cents).

My life is me, repeatedly running up to kick the football, thinking "maybe this time will be different. Maybe I will actually get to kick it this time. Maybe I'll catch a break here." And then... Life (Lucy) snatches the ball up, and I go flying forward and crash, while she smiles smugly.

You know, I don't think Charlie Brown asked for too much. Sure sometimes he was a little too optimistic (really, the 'Little Red-Haired Girl' is not going to send you a valentine. If you don't even know her real name, chances are, she doesn't know yours either), but he really didn't expect too much. He tried to stay under the radar and live his life, but his friends always pushed him to do things he didn't really want to do. He didn't want to disappoint anybody, but his incredibly ungrateful friends criticized him time and time again.(Except for Linus, who was pretty bad-ass even though he carried a blanket and sucked his thumb, and Franklin, the only black kid on the show who made like, three appearances, yet my mom loves him anyway).

Right now, my stress has taken the form of the football, and no matter how hard I try to kick it out of sight, it just ends up leaving me on my back in defeat. I have to satisfy my friends or else I'll lose them, I have to satisfy my employers or else I have no more job, I have to satisfy my club buddies or else they feel abandoned and upset, I have to satisfy teachers or else they give me bad grades, I have to satisfy colleges and universities or else they won't have me, I have to satisfy my school (like my counselor) or else they won't help me move on to college, I have to satisfy my family for the next year or else I won't even make it out of here alive, I have to satisfy myself or else I'll never move forward, and I have to satisfy the people who believe in me by satisfying myself, which can't be done when I have to satisfy every other factor of my life!

My life really isn't any different from a cartoon, because even though you get introduced to new characters and new situations, you keep reliving the same plot, same friends and enemies, same unchanging character traits, same mishaps and letdowns, same location. Every advance in life is pretty much forgotten in the next couple of episodes. And this whole cycle keeps going until the show is finished or gets canceled.

I don't want my show to get canceled, but how come things are never really switched up every season??

I wish my cartoon version of life was more like Kim Possible instead of Charlie Brown. With Kim, "she could do anything". Like, literally - cheer-leading, world-saving, happy-family-keeping, bff-having, helpful-pet-having, friends-with-the-entire-world, college-admittance-gaining, awesome-boyfriend-getting... she could do ANYTHING, and STILL find time for high school and babysitting. Are you kidding me?!? All Charlie Brown had were annoying, unhelpful adults, bogus friends, and a bothersome dog that was somehow more popular than he was. And let me tell you, Charlie Brown had depression. I know that's a bit much for a cartoon character, but the signs were there, and considering he wasn't even in high school yet, you couldn't see things getting much better for him.

Why must I be Charlie Brown?

Talking Bout My Generation

Facebook and other social networking sites are our generation's equivalent of climbing out the window in rebellious clothing, shimmying down the drainpipe, and meeting up with our beaus who our parents would hate.

Think about it. Teachers tell parents to monitor their kids online activity. Most kids are on social networking sites like Facebook, Twitter, etc. And what teens say online is more than likely something they would NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS say or do in front of their parents. We escape to cyber space when our parents "just don't understand". We meet up with our friends and put up images to represent ourselves that may or may not show the real them. We say inappropriate things, joke about stuff our parents wouldn't get, invite others to parties and events, meet up with new people, flirt with our beaus, and make ourselves seem so much cooler than we are in real life. Face it, if most of us didn't have social networking sites, we wouldn't be as cool and confident and social as we are now.

And adults today don't seem to approve. But this way is actually better than sneaking out past curfew and meeting up with hoodlums and dressing like punks and hanging out in shady areas just because it's the cool new hangout spot. Online, it's easier to see what our peers really act like and we can background check people and places and the peer pressure seems a lot lower and we can check out lots of different events and new friends and well, there's a plethora of things that are more beneficial than acting like past angsty generations.

If you think about, this generation is a lot more behaved than the ones we see in movies.

Two Dresses (a poem)

Two dresses
Two marvelous dresses
Cut from the same fabric
Stitched together with the same blood

This dress beautiful
It is mature and lovely
It is elegant and dignified
Not a thread is out of place
It is slightly older
A cream with a golden hue
Glimmering stones cast a shining halo
It drapes to the floor
Delicately hugging curves in all the right places
And just barely off the shoulder
She, is beautiful

This dress is damaged
It is newer but styled after old
It is fragile
The fabric is torn and the buttons ripped
The dress was pretty
The dress was unique
The dress was flattering
Now it is ragged and dingy
The soft white is now grey
And smudged
with grubby brown fingerprints
It has been trampled on
by heavy, careless feet
Skin peeks through the gaping holes
She, is damaged

Two dresses
Two original dresses
Cut from the same fabric
Stitched together with the same blood

*So, this poem was inspired by my sister's recent engagement and wedding dress shopping. It compares me to her. I am not trying to put myself in a dark mood, but this is how our separate lives have been for as long as I can remember. I think the poem is wonderful, and I mean that.

I Believe I Can Fly

When I was younger, I decided to represent how I felt towards my brothers and their Autism (mental disability) by listening to this song. It stills tears me up when I hear it, because it reminds me that no matter what, they are still capable of living their lives the best way they can, and they inspire me to try my hardest every day, no matter what the obstacles are.

Minesweeper

With my family, I sometimes feel like I'm playing a game of Minesweeper. It is a game that I am not particularly good at, and I am pretty careless with how I play because I don't know how to play with a strategy and I will always lose eventually, but I just have this desire to play it because it keeps me busy and doesn't require much focus.

I think of the game as me dealing with my family. I don't know how to do it correctly, but I still associate with them. I need to keep myself distracted until I can worry about my own personal problems in the future when I have my own life. If I make one wrong move, then it's game over and a massive explosion happens that you didn't expect and it can be devastating. I never know when something is going to explode and I can't avoid it, so I just have to keep clicking away. That's the only way to play the game - just click away and hope for the best. But the worst part is, no matter how many times you lose, the game starts right back up again for you to try and fail. It never ends, there will always be more hidden explosives to avoid in life. You just have to hope for the best.

One of my friends pointed out a quote I said in one of previous blog posts: "Friendship is my oxygen." I still agree with this, only now, I'm afraid that no matter how much oxygen I have, I still don't have the proper help. Air only gets you as far as living. You need a whole lot more to make sure you stay alive.

Anti-social

I choose to be anti-social most of the time. I won't go out unless it is mandatory. I'll hang out with friends after school just so I won't have to drive myself insane by going home. But I really don't like going to meet up with people.

Last night, I had an emotional breakdown. My two best friends are slowly becoming romantically involved with other people, and even though I am extremely excited for them, it made me feel lonely. I started to reminisce about my past boyfriends and crushes and friends (reminiscing is so very depressing sometimes). One of my best friends ended up staying up all night with me so that I could tell him a little about my past relationships with friends - romantically and strictly friendly. It reminded me of the constant pattern I have with friends = they will always leave me either because I get too clingy or because someone better comes along. I'm not exaggerating - this pattern has followed me from 6th grade and it's not stopping anytime soon.

My friend tried to cheer me up, and no matter how much my brain wanted me to stay depressed, he did end up cheering me up by telling me that he and my other friend would never leave me and that they are nothing like my previous friends. The part that had me crying was this: "U and Rowan are the group of friends i've been waiting for for my entire life of school." I had to be happy at that. After we said 'I love you' or 'EEELUUU <3' because we're weird teenagers, he then proceeded to compare our friendship to Craigslist.

... Now I can't tell you HOW that comparison works, but hey, we all decided a long time ago that if one of us says something that makes absolutely NO SENSE WHATSOEVER, you just let them explain and pretend to agree with their odd babble. This happens a lot now though, so most of the time we just retort babble with babble. I would love for us to have our own talk show one day, but I have a feeling we'd be pulled off the air.

Anywhosits, EEELLUU, you crazy people. Thank you for being there for me.

So today, I am supposed to go to the movies with friends, and I keep trying to make up excuses in my head, but I really want to make myself go out with them because they are my friends. (not my best friends, but still). I just hate losing people as friends, so I tend to not get too close to them. If I get too close to them, then they either get bored or feel suffocated. Friendship is my oxygen - I cannot help it. I thrive on it, and if it weren't for my friends, past and present, I wouldn't be able to survive my family or school or even my own brain.

So I shall ignore the fact that it's an R-rated movie. I will ignore the fact that I have no State I.D. to prove my age. I will ignore the fact that I hate spending money and buying movie tickets will make me feel pain from my wallet.

I am going to hang out with my friends.

:A Musical

I have decided that I am going to write a musical about my life. Why? I love writing, I love music, I love musicals, I have too much time on my hands, and I want the world to hear my (depressive) story. I just hope I can make it a good one.

So far, I have started one song: "Something"

Something is very wrong... when everything makes you mad!
Something is very wrong... when you always wake up feeling so sad!
Something is so very wrong... when you've come to abhor.. the very ones who adore you.
Oh, something is very wrong... when the whole world.. ignores... you.

Up (a poem I wrote at 1:16 in the morning because I couldn't sleep and had nothing better to do)

I'm floating up up UP past the sea of buildings
treetops don't exist here but the roofs of my urban home are bleakly staring at me
i don't know where i'm going since i'm horrid with directions
what is g-p-s
i barely know my a-b-cs
a-d-d to the problems plaguing me
i'm crazy
or at least that's what they tell me
my brain and my body do not match
they are two separate creatures from two totally different environments
forced together in a cramped depressing shell of a life
animal control! my remote is broken
click click clack
do you see
the rhythm is wack
was i rhyming
the similar sounds send my sight into a swirl
my brain is perplexed and astounded
my eyes hurt
crossing like x's
dotty spots above the i's
g do u c
why my memory is wrong
i never talked to you
i didn't talk to anyone
i just went about my business
floating up up UP past the sea of buildings

*according to my friend, the message he got was "i'm just going to keep moving forward no matter the difficulties". My reply was "wait, there was a message? I'm serious dude, I just opened up a new tab and wrote this in like five minutes cause my brain was like 'i wanna talk pretty words at chu' and i'm so sleep deprived i'm like 'k'. But he liked it, so that's cool. And yes, the image above is from the movie Up, but that's not what I wrote the poem about. I did however edit the image above using Photobucket.com, so you got double the creativity from me today.*

"In the end, everyone becomes who they said they'd never be."

When you read this, you instantly think of the people in your life that you thought were your friends but then they turn on you, or you think of yourself when you've become the thing you once despised. You never read this quote in a positive light, but I want to change that.

Because when I read this, my first thought was that, no matter how many times I tell myself I'll never be good enough, I'll never be happy, I'll never succeed or do anything worth remembering, Fate will end up being the total opposite for me. I know that I thought I wasn't a good writer, but now I have lots of people who read and love my stories. I thought I wasn't good at graphic design, but it's gotten me a position as Club Publicist for my school's Anime Club and it's helped me with a job position. I said I was always going to be alone - no friends, no relationships, nothing - but I have tons of friends and I've had a few relationships. I also said I would never be happy. I'm working on that one right now - this has been the best summer of my life and I'm going to continue my good fortune through this school year.

So for everyone who thinks that they'll never be what they want to be, forget about becoming what you fear, but focus on becoming what you want. It will work out for you.