I don't understand.

I saw him two days ago.

He was alive.

I swear.

If my sister threatens to kill herself one more time, I'm going to lose it.
Will she ever not be so crazy? Or is that too much to ask?

Nevermind, I'm done complaining.
My uncle died.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU, I HAVE NO FATHER.

There are pretty girls everywhere.

And then I look at myself.

Is it any wonder why I want to slit my wrists sometimes?

Defense mechanisms.

A lot of people have that defense mechanism where they don't feel certain things because if they did they would probably die or something. I used to think I didn't have that at all because I didn't choose to. Then I realized psychology and the unconcious mind are very complex and that even if I don't choose that defense mechanism, it still exists for me too.
Lately I've been beginning to realize that I'm starting to not feel as much. I don't mean less empathy, but I mean less sadness and pain. I just kind of push thoughts away and run from them. If something comes up in my mind I just push it out and don't deal with it. I'm starting to have second thoughts about my mission trip coming up as well. I feel like it's either going to emotionally break me in half, or that I'm going to unconciously have a wall built and be able to feel NOTHING the whole time.

A large part of me is deathly afraid of more emotional turmoil. It just seems that whenever I begin to get tearful, I jerk back into my little cage that is supposed to shut out emotions. I understand that certain people have this defense mechanism for a reason, and I've met those people. Sometimtimes things happen that shut something off inside of us, or break some part of the human spirit. It's very possible to break someone. After all, we're all fragile.
Sometimes my past feelings crash on me like a fierce wave that only rises to drown me in its downfall. Sometimes people seem to be like that for me as well.
I did not use to understand, am I am furiously angry that I now do understand, what it's like to want to shut out emotional stimuli. I used to question how anyone could find comfort with walls up around them, but now I seem to understand that. However, I am faced with a choice: take that easy route, or do everything I can to continue to feel.
When someone likes me stops feeling, or when I choose to shut out all feeling, the world is a bit more hopeless, and I have failed.
Now I don't want to do that.
But there is a part of me that believes the emotional intensity of the trip coming up will either
A. break me apart and cause me to feel the harshest pain ever, or
B. start to hurt me until I unconciously put up a guard that leaves me numb and unfeeling and sends me to a dusty corner somewhere in Vermont with something sharp so I can try to find meaning and feeling in what pumps through my veins: messy crimson blood.
I don't want that to happen. I really really don't.
And no, I'm not deep in that rabbithole habit again. But I suppose when you first start it, ever, it can always come back to you and will remain a struggle in some way.
And you can always break down and make the mistake of doing it again, but it doesn't mean that the whole pattern needs to start again.

I'm teetering on a thin line between numbness and intense pain, and I'm trying to jump over to that far away plateau of... being happy.
I'm gonna need a goddamn teleportation device for this one.

Hmm.

Well, I'm some kind of broken.
I feel untouched. My skin aches to be touched and hugged and kissed and held.
Forever alone.

Interesting.

So on Monday I found out that Selena Gomez was gonna be at the mall that day. I got there at 5:30 and she was supposed to come at 6. This was all in the PM. I went inside and decided that I wasn't about to squeeze into a huge crowd. Instead, I went around to the side of the mall to the back entrance and there I found a police officer. I started talking to him and then I was like "Listen, we both know she's coming through that door."
He let me stay. I got a picture of her coming and going and had the shortest transaction of words with her ever.
I said: "Hey there, how ya doin"
She said "Thanks very much for having me here."
The two sentences don't really mesh but she was in a rush.
After that some boy asked for my number.
End of day.

It was weird.
And today I went to the pool.
Yay.
Boo.
Forever alone.

Ummm. okay.

So I had a very interesting experiencing involving hundreds of girls, a cute guy, police officers, paparazzi, and Selena Gomez.

I will explain in detail later.

0_o

hateyoudad. hateyou.

hateyoudadhateyoudadhateyoudadhateyoudadhateyoudad.

hate you

shut up I hate you

I HATEEE YOUUUU

I hateyouu
haetyouhateyou
ugh
SHUT UP SHUT UP

Still offended.

He just posted Happy Birthday on another kid's wall.

I'm saddddd.

Actually Offended.

The hottest teacher in my school usually posts Happy Birthday wishes on his student's walls.
Seriously on everyone's.
But not mine.

I am genuinely offended...

Psst...

Sometimes?

I wish he would know how it felt.

I wish he would feel that hurt too.

But only sometimes.

Life, you suck.

I have said it many times before, but this time, I mean it more than ever.

THIS IS NOT FAIR.

She's leaving, he's staying. So many other people are leaving too... this is absolutely not fair at all.

Everybody is LEAVING. Shit. It's getting ridiculous.

One friend to Kentucky... another to Virginia... another 2 hours north... another to New Mexico for the summer, and possibly forever...

This honestly is not fair.

That d-bag didn't come last night and then suddenly I heard his voice because he was there to take his sister away for possibly forever and I hid.

WHAT THE FUDGESTICK

Looking back, eww. I hid?! I'm not that weak anymore. I mean, really. It's time to confront him and to realize that he's pathetic, weak, and a much smaller person than I am. Really.

He took his sister with him and I went outside and sobbed my freaking eyes out of my FACE.

It had nothing to do with him, it barely does anymore.

I just can't believe she's leaving. Actually leaving.

I was so indifferent to it when I first heard it and was just angry, but last night it suddenly hit me when the seniors were all talking. It suddenly hit that everyone was actually leaving and not just talking about it and I couldn't stand it and just went nuts.

If I never see her again. Well.

I can't even imagine. So much happened there and to never see her again would be ridiculous.

To see him a lot will just be an insult from the universe.

Where's the kid living, anyway?

No, I don't want those answers.

So I went and hung out with that kid who I might have been interested in and I have to say...

no. It's not going to work out and I'm just forever alone.

How absolutely awful is it that I actually believe I'm going to be alone and left behind forever?

There is no reason for me to hate myself.

I'm such a GOOD person.

I hate myself.

Tomorrow.

I'm just gonna be like "I've wanted to talk to you about something but I haven't had the chance because you've been away, but yeah, I just wanted to say FUCK YOU, that's all."

and then I'm walking away.

and I'm NOT looking back.

and that's that.

over and out.

I expected this.

I am not surprised.

I know I am not wanted.

I HAVEN'T DECIDED

WHETHER OR NOT GUYS TALK IN GIBBERISH AND THAT'S WHY I CAN'T UNDERSTAND THEM OR WHETHER THEY TALK IN PERFECT CLEAR ENGLISH AND I LOOK FOR MORE AND THAT'S WHY THEY CAN'T UNDERSTAND THEM.

either way, I'm lost.

Closure: Goodbye, Hello.

My closure will end with two words.

Then I will go and flee and be free like a butterfly :D. And he will remain a bee who will die out after stinging everyone he can and letting his venom out.

I'm not afraid of his reaction, or anything, because I'm going to walk away before he can say a damn thing. There is nothing he can say. Nothing he can do. Sorry is nothing. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

GOODBYE.

This is also hello.

HELLO, HELLO, HELLO.

Hello summer, hello experiences, hello to my journey of finding a true sense of self that I can come to love.

Hello new people and new interests and new crushes and new memories. New memories to be made... replacing the old. Replacing the old memories with the good ones, because I deserve that. God knows I deserve that.

I deserve respect! I deserve care, and love! Why put up with way way way way WAY less than I deserve? I refuse to. I simply refuse to. I don't need to. I don't need people in my life who only rip me apart. The pain has not disappeared, but it no longer hinders me. It acts as a catalyst that strengthens me. I feel the pain and I reach above it and move forward. It's my 17th birthday on Tuesday. Last year I spent part of my birthday feeling terrible sadness because some pathetic asshole had me and used me and ripped my heart to shreds.

THIS YEAR IS DIFFERENT.

I'm not cutting myself, I'm cutting the ties.

I'm not hurting myself, I'm helping others as WELL as myself.

I'm not going to turn numb, I will do everything I can not to.

I am not going to lock my heart up, I will continue to wear it on my sleeve because that is who I am.

I am a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve and who cares deeply for people and he didn't ruin that!

For all he did, he did NOT ruin the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve! He did NOT take away my care for others! He did not make me hard and numb! He did not make me give up or close myself or lock my heart away! He did not turn me into him! HE DID NOT SUCCEED. HE DID NOT WIN. I WON. I WON BECAUSE I AM STILL STANDING AND I AM NOT RUINED. I am NOT ruined. HE DID NOT RUIN ME. I AM NOT RUINED.

Checkmate.

You lose. You lose you lose you lose!

THIS GAME IS OVER.

ONCE AND FOR ALL.

Everybody uses me in some way.

Everybody.

I'm the rebound girl.

Yippee.

At least I think i'm the rebound girl...

I'm starting to think I should never get involved with anyone.

They will only hurt me, right?

ERIN YOU'RE AN IDIOT YOU HATE THE PEOPLE WHO SAY THIS SO DON'T BECOME ONE OF THEM KTHANKS.

but what if it's true for me.

Oh no. Oh no.

He just told me that he loves to play chess.

That's gotta be a dealbreaker.

HEHEHEHEHE I'M AN IDIOT

I asked him on a date.

He said yes.

WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO I LIVE IN.

That's NOT what is supposed to happen.

He was supposed to say no. I've had that before. I know how to deal with that. I don't know how to deal with yes. I don't know if I really like him, do I? I don't know. This is the first person I would be taking any interest in since the jackass, and it's just weird.

He was supposed to say no.

Because that would have been the least painful way to go about it, but now that he said yes we'll just have to extend the pain a bit more and I'll be more let down when he ends up hating me.

I obviously have unresolved issues, lol, I'm completely aware.

I'm terrible to myself.

I expect failure here because success in foreign to me.

He just wasn't supposed to say yes. The law of my universe has been broken.

Well, actually, just bent. Because this is still gonna end up bad.

Do you see how awful I am to myself?

The agony that is my nonexistent love life.

Come on Erin, you can do it.

Like him. He's sensitive and sweet and not ugly and he has abs apparently and he's like super nice according to pretty much everyone and you've seen it yourself.

And maybe things could happen here.

LIKE HIM. DO IT. COME ON. JUST JUMP IN AND DO IT.

Why the hell can't I like someone when it might actually work?

Why.

Why why why why why why why.

Dad, you are so rude. You put everyone down. Everything has to go your way or else. You are a miserable man and I can't say anything to you without being wrong. You should just go over to your sister's house and you can both be mental and bipolar together.

Sometimes I just want you to leave. I mean sometimes I really do.

My dad is an asshole.

There is just no getting around it.

It's like this:

He's not even a concern to me much anymore.

But life remains NOT EASY AT ALL.

Life still seems to be treating me like crap.

Even with a major issue out of the way, because, finally, it's out of my way, I've still got lots of obstacles.

:'(

you know what's hard?

telling your mom that you're an outcast and watching her try not to cry.

that's hard.

And suddenly, it's easier every day.

I feel as if I've faced a turning point. Where it's getting easier. Almost as though I'm surely coming to an acceptance of what happened with that guy. It's just like, it's finally getting easier to leave it all behind. Finally.

I don't think some of the marks on my arms will ever completely fade.

But I have a sort of vision of my future, when someone asks me what they're from. And I want to be able to look at them and say:

"There was a time when I used to be way too hard on myself. Then I realized I was hurting myself for things that were not even my fault; for problems and faults that were not by own, but another's."

finally walking away from that part of my past.

Forbidden Love

the love that's forbidden seems to be the most desired.

the apple you shouldn't eat seems to taste the sweetest.

OF COURSE EVE ATE THE DAMN APPLE.

ohhmyyygoshhh.

Seeing pictures of girls with their flowers and the smiles on their faces at prom makes me feel like I have a sign on my forehead that says "Forever Alone".

I want that giddy excitement. There just isn't anyone for me.

I'm quite attracted to my teacher, though. But he's married with children, so we can cross that one out.

I don't know why I'm attracted to older men, but I am. I don't mean like people in their 70s. I mean 20s and 30s. I'm hardly attracted to everyone that age, only a few people, but I realize now that I spend my time thinking about celebrities who are quite older, like Jake Gyllenhal. Ahhmygosh.

And my teacher is just. Magic.

Everybody my age is just a baby. I would rather date a 19 year old than a 17 year old. And I'd rather date a 21 year old than a 16 year old! This could get me into trouble, I know, but I can't help that I'm attracted to older guys. Younger guys fail at life.

One of my friends is going out toinight to get drunk because she feels like it.
It makes me sad and all that jazz.
But sometimes, I want to say "fuck it" and party all night long and scream and shout and dance on tables and I want STROBE LIGHTS and to jump into a pool of boys and girls who will pass me along to the music. I want blaring music and bright lights and I want to sweat off all my worries. I want to get CRAZY, get WILD, do something absolutely exciting.
I want to do something so out-of-character with my always-worried self.
I don't want drugs, no. I don't want to get drunk.
I just want to completely let loose and go nuts. and tonight's prom. I truly am a party girl, really, just not the drunk slut party girl. I'm the sober, hyperactive wild party girl who can turn things into a great time but I don't have any chances for it.
And as much as I hate people my age, sometimes I want to get in a medium-sized room and be right in the center, dancing and jumping and freeing myself to the pulsating music. I want to have that guy I can wink at, I want to have that boy who will try to kiss me and I want to dance and flirt and be happy and wild. I want to dance until I DROP. LITERALLY.

I want what I can't get.
For some reason, it just isn't here...

Uhh....

So apparently the rapture is near!

May 21st, according to a bunch of spiritual people somewhere out west.

And then the world is going to be destroyed COMPLETELY on October 21st.

Really now?

If I roll my eyes any more they will fall out of my face.

Screaming and crying, doors slamming, yelling, fighting, hiding away, being afraid, repeating the past time and time again.

Happy Mother's day.

Breaking Dishes - Literally.

About 2o minutes, ago, my dad started taking all weird about how he didn't know he was invited to eat dinner with us all for mother's day tomorrow. I told him he was weird. And that's when it started.

He shook his head and said, "You complain about everything. Every single thing."

I nodded. Said, "Mm-hmm." I was thinking to myself, Erin, what are you doing?! he's going to freak out oh my gosh stop.

My dad kept saying "Keep your mouth shut."

I didn't say anything. I SMILED at him. I was screaming at myself inside of my head, but some force was acting in me, daring me to just keep it up.

He kept telling me to keep my mouth shut again and again, and then? Then?

He stood up, grabbed his dishes, and threw them into the sink like a frisbee.

They broke into pieces.

"You little sixteen year old girl disrespecting your father!"

Cue the walking upstairs and slamming the door.

I was still smiling when he left. Then he came back down and got his coat and said he was going to the store and left; in my head I was just begging him to put a hand on me so I could finally blow up at him for something that you can't hide behind smiles and "You imagined that, Erin." But anyway, when he came down, I was all smiles. Because I realized something, and I told my mom.

I said, "The more you realize how pathetic the people who are trying to hurt you are, the less they can hurt you."

Anybody who has to treat others terribly just to feel better about themselves is pathetic.

I said, "Mom, my dad is a pathetic little boy in the body of an older man."

She defends him, you know. Typical relational abuse stuff, I know, I've tasted that bitter drink myself.

Then we had a conversation and I was telling her that maybe he left to go kill himself.

And she's like, he's not like that.

I said, "Yeah, he's just one to break dishes."

My mom goes, "I've broken dishes sometimes, but I didn't want to kill myself."

I said, "But you did. You told me."

Because she did one time. We almost got into a car accident. We almost both died. I haven't told that little tidbit of my life to many people - maybe only one friend of mine who saw me right after it happened. But it did happen. Except my mom didn't remember it. But my mom was like, "Not everyone wants to go and kill themselves you know."

Except, no. I don't know. See, I've been around the threat of suicide my whole entire life. My sister tried to kill herself, my mom used to cry about wanting to die, my dad always says he can't wait to die, my brother jokes about suicide, my friends have been to that point, etc etc etc. I was raised around the constant looming threat of suicide.

I frequently hear people discuss their wishes to die.

My mom looked at the dish he broke and said it was one of her favorites.

Immediately I wanted to clobber him until he couldn't break anything, not the dishes, not our hearts, anymore.

My dad is so mean to my mom.

He's abusive.

I mean, let's look of the logistics of it.

• He always claims that she never spends any time with him. Whenever she goes out, he memorizes exactly what she did and if she goes out the next week he's like "You went here last week, with her, and drove here, and the week before that you went there and ran into her and invited her over." Something like that. He used to be terrible about it when I was younger. Like, so bad to the point that my mom was afraid to go out places because of him.
• He's always telling her what she's doing wrong. Nothing is ever right; he'll point out her faults, but I NEVER EVER hear him point out any of her good qualities.
• He accuses her of lying when she hasn't, calls her a "nutjob, goddamn animal, piece of shit, stupid, an idiot, liar, crazy, wackjob."
• No matter what, he always makes it seem like he's the one who knows what's right, and that no matter what my Mom says, she'll be wrong.
• The whole family walks on eggshells around him. I have had to lie many times about little things just so he doesn't blow up. I can't even talk to him. Everything I say to him is as if it's rehearsed. I'm afraid of him.
• Right at this very second he's complaining about her to someone on the phone, saying that she lied about where she went out to eat for her own birthday. He checked the mileage on the car just to see where she went. Now he's talking with someone on the phone about it because he HAS to be right. IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER. Manipulative, controlling, jealous bastard.
• He'll deny that things ever happened, telling her that she's making it up, and creating things in her mind. He says that to me all the time too. That can really damage someone.
• Other times, when he's mad, he'll withdraw and won't even talk to her. He'll go up and shut his door and sometimes she'll sleep downstairs.
• He denies her perceptions, memories, and even her sanity.
• He makes it so the only person who matters is him.
• He makes her feel guilty.
• He does this, he does that... the bottom line is that I could outline a bunch of experiences but that's not the point.

The point is that he's hurting my mom, and that I grew up with that knowledge and that I fell for someone who did some of the same things to me in less extensive ways.

And maybe there's a connection between that.

Maybe there isn't.

But that's not really the point either. The point is this:

He's abusive to my mother, and I've watched it for years. Only now, I know how my mom feels. I know what it's like to think you're the one who needs help, and to question the only real survival tool you have: your own mind.

I understand, and I watch, and I hear, and I listen. And I feel. And I don't know how this is going to all pan out. But I know that my father is mentally ill. And I know that sometimes living here can be the Cold War, and that my dad makes me question my own reality as well.

He makes me wonder if I'm crazy.

He makes me feel small.

Another thing I know is that I don't know how to deal with it. And I don't know what to do about it, either.

See this is what I meant.

This is what I meant by having "fallouts".

Like some girl just told me that everyone talks behind my back about how I'm a weird freak.

And how they all laugh at me.

Which makes me want to carve my stupidness out.

Cut it all out.

But, I won't.

I won't.

The Past

I was having a really great time last night playing Apples to Apples with a group of people, and then the subject Painful came up on the green card. I had just gotten the best card for it: my past. And for a moment, the memories came flooding back, and so did the pain. But then I put down my card, and I realized, I have to put down my past. I have to move on.

This is going to be a journey filled with pain, I've known that already. But I have to let it be a journey. I can't stay stuck here for the rest of my life. I realize, now, that I want to run from the past. What better way to do that than run headfirst into my future?

Slowly, I need to erase away what's left. What happened to me was awful; but that's just it: it was awful and it was terrible but I need to get out of it. I can't let that fact consume me. I need to acknowledge that, yes, it was excruciatingly painful. And then I have to take that knowledge, and understand it, and then walk on.

There will be stumbles and falls, I know that. Sometimes I will fall back; some nights I will cry until my eyes are swollen and I've exhausted myself and I fall asleep with tears on my cheeks. The pain will be monstrous; my heart will ache and I will feel like I'm really, actually dying. And I'm allowed to feel that pain! I have the right to feel that pain! And, at the end of the day, even though I forget it ALL THE TIME, I also have the right to heal.

I hate myself quite a lot, so it's hard to even say that. That I have the right to get better.

But I do. I do have that right, and I do deserve, 100% deserve, to heal.

The pain will not subside completely, ever. However, that isn't the point, and that's not a reason to let it RULE me forever. I CAN find happiness that will trump that pain wholeheartedly.

The ghost of first love never really leaves you. It makes sense; it's the first time you gave your whole self to someone, the first time you left yourself open, raw, your heart completely unguarded. It can change you, and damage you. With first love, comes first heartbreak. I do know, however, that I will come to accept it one day. One day the rage will fade. One day the tears will dry. One day the heart will heal; I sometimes have a MASSIVELY hard time believing that last one. I do know, though, that when the heart does heal, there will always be a scar.

I will always carry scars.

But although I give up hope so much that this is true, I pray, I PRAY, that there are other people like me, who will look at someone's scars, and then look at the owner of them, and call them beautiful.

So this has got to be goodbye.

I will always have love in my heart for certain people.

And with that heart, I am walking away.

Sometimes, the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.

What is this, the Anti-Bullying Parade?

My whole family is getting all freaked out because the kids at school don't like me.

Like they can do anything about it!

About ten minutes ago, my sister waltzed into my room and asked for names. She has a boyfriend who has a brother who has crazy friends who will beat people up. No kidding. She tells me that she'll bust down doors if she has to, and she'll make sure they regret ever being rude to me.

My gosh, well, I'd PAY someone to do that to certain people, but she told me that she would only be able to get revenge on the people in my school, which sucks because the only person I'd freaking love to have kicked in the balls does not go to my school. Although that's also a VERY good thing. A VERY VERY GOOD THING.

THEN.

My dad comes into my room and is like, "So boys are rude to you?"

I freaked out and was like "GET OUT! EVERYBODY NEEDS TO GET OFF MY BACK ABOUT THIS!"

I mean, considering this isn't even the biggest issue in my life right now, why don't we focus on the real issues? Yeesh.

I almost told my dad about the big old shithead who broke my heart but my dad would probably actually cause bodily harm to anyone who broke my heart if he had the chance. Bad bodily harm, I believe.

It's like a freaking parade of people coming into my room, and they're all sad about the people at my school who bully me, but seriously, what can they do? People don't like me because according to them I'm a "weird ugly freak who might as well kill herself".

There's nothing like a glorious day at school to motivate me, no?

Oh, happy day.

Well, this morning my dad told me he doesn't want me to end up like my siblings.

Like I needed to hear that. Like I don't fear it immensely. Like I don't curse myself already because I feel like I'm already going down that path. I love my siblings, I do. I just can't live like they do.

Then I freaked out over my hair and was running late and my mom got mad at me and proceeded to tell me, "you only care about yourself. Remember that I'm human too, and I have feelings too."

Oh my gosh. I couldn't even believe that she said that to me. All I think about is other people! And the reason that I'm suffering in silence is BECAUSE I think about her feelings!

And some people still wonder why I'm so afraid to tell my parents how I feel. *shakes my head*

But that's not all she said. She said that she must have something wrong with her because "all of my children are unhappy." DAMNIT, MOM!

See? See?!?! I can't be unhappy! I can't be! My life is one huge guilt trip. I told my mom that, and she said that her life was. Then I said, "You know what? I just won't tell you how I feel then, ever."

She said, "Neither will I, then."

I responded with, "Okay, that's great, then I'll just die inside."

Her response? "Now my day is going to be ruined hearing that."

SORRY TO BE SUCH AN INCONVENIENCE.

But then she texted me apologizing today. Which was nice. Usually I apologize first. Because I can't bear to have her in pain.

Now I'm hyped up on caffeine, because it gives me a false sense of being happier than I really am. Or just less sad than I am. I know it's false, but it's better than being completely blank and empty and throbbing, and feeling the pain like a whole-body bruise.

Oh God, my parents.

My heart just broke more.

Today I told my mom about how rude people are to me in school. And she told my dad and they had this huge thing where they were trying to comfort me and it was terrible because it was so sad.

My dad just brought me over to his window and talked about how the rain was coming and we were looking out into my backyard and all I could think about was how innocent I used to be. I just imagined my old swing set there, with me giggling and laughing and being carefree. I just wanted to cry. I just kept thinking: he doesn't know how much his little girl is hurting.

Because they don't. Because they can't. Because at the end of the day they don't want me to be in pain and so I can't be. But my heart hurts and it's starting to rain now and all I can think about is how angry my dad would be if he knew why I was so sad. He would ruin certain people's lives and tear them limb from limb.

He told me tonight, "When you hurt, I hurt."

Oh, God, I know that feeling.

I feel the same.

I'm sick of hurting.

I wish I could go back and save that little girl.

I give up.

I'm done.

It's like I'm divided by glass walls between everyone.

It's like I can't knock them down.

And when people try to comfort me and call me amazing and beautiful, I want to tell them, no, I'm a failure.

and when people say I'm beautiful, they're lying.

I'm ugly. I hate looking in the mirror, I HATE it.

I'm so ashamed of myself.

I can't do anything right.

I hate myself.

I'm a lost cause.

Am I a lost cause?

No, probably not, but I'm pretty damn messed up.

I'm just so tired.

I can pretend to be happy so easily. I shouldn't be able to fake it that well. I shouldn't have to.

I can make it look like I'm having the BEST time ever. In fact, sometimes, I get my anger and frustrations out through acting happy. I laugh loud in place of screaming, or I run around and giggle and shout and dance and go crazy, absolutely crazy with laughter and jokes, and I do that in place of me crying and breaking down into a ball on the floor. I always put the smile on when it needs to be on, but it gets harder to get the energy to fake it anymore. I try really hard for my parents not to let any signs of inner turmoil slip through the cracks. While I want help, I don't want to hurt them.

I feel like a burden. Sometimes I ask myself how anybody could love me.

Anger. Seeing Red.

I am so angry. I am angry at the people around me who have hurt me.

I am angry at him.

That jackass, that bastard, that asshole.

I want to shake him and scream at him. I WANT TO HURT HIM.

I want to hurt him because he doesn't deserve to just get away with this!

Nobody should just get away with this.

I want to spit at him and I want to look him in the face and give a big "Fuck you."

If language offends you, stop reading right now, because I'm done censoring.

Fuck you for making me hate myself.

Fuck you for telling you could use me and then doing it. For saying I was crazy and insane and making me believe it and belittling me and showing me the knives you cut yourself with and then making FUN of me for being worried.

And FUCK YOU for hurting me when all I did was love you, all I EVER DID to you was love you!

You sicken me. YOU SICKEN ME. I don't want to be around you because it makes me physically ill. And you don't give a shit about what happened to me or if I die or if I live and you'd probably laugh at me now, you'd see me and you'd LAUGH AT ME NOW.

Because you are that fucked up and angry and awful and rude.

Goddamn I pity you.

For losing the good side of you and letting yourself become apathetic.

I want to spit it out at you right in front of you and PUSH YOU. I WANT TO PUSH YOU INTO MUD AND KICK YOU IN THE BALLS AND THEN KICK YOU IN THE BALLS AGAIN WHILE YOU'RE DOWN.

I just want to say it to you, loud and clear, and get SOME of my anger out: "Fuck you. FUCK YOU."

Dark urges and self hate.

I want to break things. I want to destroy myself. I feel such incredible self-hatred that I cannot even describe it. I want to tear myself up and throw myself around, I want to scream, I want to break everything and smash mirrors and throw darts at pictures of myself. I have such self loathing inside of me that I cannot even describe it. I want to ruin my life, I want to mess everything up, I want to ruin me. I want to go walking through barbed wire and come out bleeding all over the place and I want to fall on the ground and scratch myself up and scream, scream scream SCREAM.

I blame myself for everything. EVERYTHING. I hate myself, I want to royally mess myself up. I won't take action, I won't, I won't kill myself, I won't willingly destroy my life or mess up my grades because I still hope that things will get better, I still want to believe that I'll be happy one day...

But still, the measure of my hatred towards myself is absolutely ridiculous. I just want to destroy myself so badly.

HELP!

Screw it.

Screw it, screw staying strong, screw homework, screw it all. Just, screw it.

I just yelled at my teacher, flat out yelled, and told her that she had made a mistake and that I didn't do anything wrong and that she was crazy. Yes, I called my math teacher crazy. I don't even know what the hell is wrong with me.

I almost want to say screw staying away from it but I know that's not good. My friends don't get anything, ANYTHING, and a few of them have NO idea that there's anything wrong with me! Lizzy, one of my nicest friends ever who I've been friends with since 7th grade, has NO idea that I'm even depressed. Kaitlyn, who I hang out with a lot and joke with probably doesn't notice that anything is different than how it's always been.

I don't want to go to classes, I don't want to do anything, I just want to sit here and stay here and cry but then again, crying isn't something I can do that often anymore, it usually comes in random spurts now spaced throughout the month. Or sometimes I'll have weeks where I randomly break down and cry with no warning.

It sounds so freaking sick but if wearing the pain on my skin doesn't really even make my friends who know think twice or freak out, then what do I have to do to get anyone to actually start realizing that I'm not making all of this up? That I'm not doing this just to get attention, I'm doing it to get HELP?

How loud does someone have to scream until people start to hear even a faint whisper?

And just coming out and saying you need help does nothing. People don't react to words as much as they do to actions and signs and events.

Ugh.

I can't take it anymore.

Questions.

I hadn't felt the urge to do it for like 2 and a half weeks, but today I felt it. Nothing happened, but I suppose the urge isn't gone.

I'm such a wreck. There's a photo of me on my desk of me just one week before depression all crashed down on me. I don't understand how everything is so different now.

I'm not happy. I'm not okay. I'm so tired. Of everything. I want to get brain surgery and have certain memories taken out. Certain people. They may be out of my business and no longer involved in my life, but that doesn't mean they're gone. That doesn't mean that I'm not being hurt by them anymore.

That's the thing about playing with someone's mind, and abusing their emotions and feelings. The pain lasts. It's not like being hit where you feel the sting and then it's done. It's not like that, it's like a continuous hurt, and it doesn't go away right after the infliction is done. It lingers and seeps into your bones. You know, I never thought about after. And I completely forgot about, and can barely even remember how I felt, before. I was only focused on then.

I didn't think about how the giddy girl I used to be was being strangled to death. I didn't think about how beat down and weak I would be after it was all over.

I only thought about the frantic chaos of the current situation. I didn't stop to think about leaving, or it all being over, because it was too scary to think about. And knowing now what it's been like leaving it behind and having it be over, it's completely unexpected. I thought I'd be frantic and would scream and would burst out in tears in the middle of classes and that I would feel like I was being killed.

Really, it's just a silent sucking away of the self. It's a calm, menacing thing, and you can feel yourself draining and weakening.

I don't know which is worse. What I thought would happen: the chaos, the crying, the breaking things. Or what ended up happening: the silence, the self-destruction, the fake smiles.

If I could just go back.

If I had all of the information.

If that girl was standing in front of me talking about how she babysat all the time and how her mom didn't help at all.

If I could NOT ask her if she wanted help...

Oh, God.

Oh, God. What would I do?

And how could I not let the need to put a smile on her solemn, saddened face sway me?

How could I turn my back...

I wonder what is worse: the damage that has been done to me because I reached out, or the damage that she could have found had I not reached out at all...

Or if there even would have been a difference at all. If anything would have been altered, of if it would have been all the same, and I made no real impact at all. I hate thinking that. I hate thinking that maybe the only thing I did was get myself hurt, and that I did no good at all.

These questions don't have answers.

But I keep asking: why, why, why?!

Even when I was little.

Even when I was little I always had this sense that I loved everyone around me way more than they loved me, not including my family.

I used to lay in my bed at night, and would look at my hands, and hold them, pretending it was someone else.

I used to, and still do, create conversations in my head that will never happen.

But even when I was little I always felt like I was on the fringes of everything, away in my own little world.

My scars are fading but I feel more cut than ever.

Well, no, not necessarily FEEL more cut than ever.

But in my mind's eye, if everything on the inside showed on the outside, there would be crisscrosses everywhere, and old wounds and new wounds covering almost every surface of my skin...

UMM

someone should kill me.

someone should kill me now.

EIAFUDHAUHUHSFUS

:'(

seriously, life gives NO breaks.

I want to feel alive.

So maybe I'm a better student and haven't gotten in trouble with the law and all that jazz but my sister reigns in one department: looks and allure.

Boys used to ask me, "Your sister's so gorgeous, what happened to you?"

They might as well just beat me with a stick. I'd rather be hurt in that way.

I wanted to tell them that she wasn't all they thought she was, and that she was a drunken depressed sullen bitch to my whole family and that they could go screw themselves.

My sister is quite gorgeous.

I'm... not.

My skin heals so slowly that it's not even funny. There are tiny purple lines all over me from just getting scratches, so that's what's keeping me from doing stupid things, but I guess it's good that anything is keeping me from it. I think I just want to feel alive right now.

I really HATE recklessness, especially because I know what it's like to be the witness of someone being reckless. It's scary and causes a lot of people around you issues, not to mention yourself. But I don't know, I kind of want to live on the edge or something, I want some type of thrill. I guess I just don't know where to find it. The rush. The adrenaline.

I'm starting to remind myself of people I don't want to remind myself of. But for some reason it's like if there's a possibility of getting hurt, I smile. or if there's a really sharp knife somewhere, I want to toss it in the air and catch it and laugh. Which, I know, is royally effed up. I don't want to do it to hurt other people, or to make them scared. I don't want to make other people scared at all. I do kind of want to alert them to the fact that I'm struggling and that I could use help from anybody who cares, but hurting someone isn't the idea here. I don't really want to hurt myself, I don't think, or don't know. I don't want to die, I know that.

But I'm kind of cynical lately. I kind of just want to (and I know this sounds REALLY bad, but I'm not meaning it to) run a knife over my skin just to have that rush, knowing that I could do damage, but choosing not to. I don't wish to die. AT ALL.

I don't know what possesses me to take a knife and put it over my wrist and hold it there, but it makes my heart beat faster and for some reason it just brings me back to the "here and now".

I sound so twisted. I suppose I am. But if I had one wish for this very moment I'd climb down the side of my house and run... but I don't know what I'd run to. I want someone to run to.

I tell everyone they can run to me, but who do I run to? And why would I run to me when most of the time I just want to run away from me?

:/

Magic Button

If there was a button I could push to make things rewind to last year, I think I'd press it at this point.

I think I'd even press a button that would make me a little girl again, and I could just start over again and make different turns.

I know that people change, but I miss the girl my friend used to be. The timid, shy, sweet girl who didn't make fun of my own mom when she came over my house. The one who didn't ignore me or who seemed to go off with different friends way more than me. I just wish I could go back and hang out with her again. Some may say it's awful that I'd rather have that version of her, because she's "stronger" now, but I liked it when she wasn't pretending to be strong. I think people are stronger when they let you know that they can barely hold the weight, but they somehow continue to do it anyway.

This sounds sick, too, but I feel like I, I don't know, helped her to have friends. That sounds awful. But it's just how I feel. I feel like I helped her loosen up a little bit and to be less shy, and that I invited her out on outings with friends and did everything I could to make her comfortable and happy and, truth is, I don't know if I want to do that right now. I don't know if I want to keep altering things just to keep her satisfied. I hate feeling like a stepping stone, but that's exactly what I feel like - about everything, basically. I feel like I'm just some detour people take in their life when they need to, and then they go off and forget the person who helped them when they had no idea what to do.

If I could just go back.

If I could just have another midnight conversation with her about how we were best friends and how she was amazed that I could be such a good friend and how she would always thank me and make sure I was okay with helping.

If I could just go back and STAY with her. And not leave that room and not go down those steps and not get involved with him...

Ugh. Would I really change my actions, even if I knew?

It was all so bittersweet back then. Warm spring days walking her neighbor's dog and eating cheesecake and watching TV as we looked after the baby. The baby I wanted to pick up and run away with and save. It was too late to prevent the damage on the rest of them, but I could help them pick up the pieces. That baby, though; I just wanted to get him out and prevent what will probably happen.

I still want to prevent it. I strongly hope that it is not inevitable.

Sleepovers, parties, inside jokes, being the only one to know her secrets, her trusting me, hugging her, letting her know that she was so much more than her family. Being her best friend. That's what it was all about.

Falling in love should not have been a part of the picture, should not have entered the frame of the situation, but it happened. When we went on walks, my mind should not have lingered on the conversations I had had the day before with her older brother. I should not have watched him out of the corner of my eye, noticing his limp from the pain he had inflicted on himself.

Maybe I should not have known his secrets.

Maybe I should not have met him in the kitchen for frustrating chats about everything.

I should have cut the hugs short. I should have kept my distance. I shouldn't have let him touch me at all.

I should not have told him I loved him.

I should not have.

I should not have been there.

I should not have stayed.

I should have ran.

I should not have opened up my heart.

I should have put a guard up.

No.

no no no nonoNO NO NO NO NO NO

I disagree with this.

I disagree.

Why, after everything, do I feel that I should have loved him and told him, and why, why, do I sincerely believe that it was meant to happen this way? That it should have happened this way?

I don't want to put a guard up.

And for all the PAIN and all the heartache, I do not want to put barriers up.

I do not want to close my heart.

Maybe it makes me completely screwed up in the head, but...

I do not want to put any walls up at all.

I want to remain vulnerable and loving and keep my heart on my sleeve, even if it's bleeding.

But I want someone in this world to make the choice that I did: not to take advantage of me, but instead, to love me as I am:

I am raw and vulnerable and naked.

I am easy to hurt.

But I'm waiting for the person who won't see that and then hurt me...

I'm waiting for the person who will see that and then do everything they can to make sure that I am not hurt, but loved, completely and totally loved.

In the way that I DESERVE to be loved.

and all at once...

I have lost myself again.

Completely.

:'(

But I don't plan on finding myself through self-inflicted pain tonight.

tonight.

Some nights I have all the answers. They come few and far between, but tonight is one of those nights.

Suddenly I look up at the night sky and I know that all I need to do is sit outside and look up at the stars and just feel that moment, just that moment. The only thing I want to do is take a walk and listen to things. To the crickets chirping and the rushing sound of a nearby creek, or a dog barking, or even just listening to the silence. I would just love to take a midnight walk in the middle of the road and feel a bit at peace. Sometimes I know that all I need to do is lay down on the ground and forget everything around me and let myself be swept away.

Sometimes I find myself, even just for a little bit. When I'm in the backseat of a car with the wind in my face and a great song is playing and suddenly everything is okay. When all of a sudden I know that the only thing I need to do is sit and listen and write and feel the air moving around me. The moments are so bittersweet. Peaceful and hopeful with a twinge of sadness.

But it's the hopeful kind of sad. The one that cries for the sorrows of the world, but stares longingly at the beauty of the world and all its romances and tragedies and broken hearts and healed hearts and all of it.

I can look so many other places to find myself, but it always happens when I don't even expect it. Suddenly I am the epitome of a caring and loving nature, and I am okay and at peace for a while. Sometimes the moments are very sad when this happens, but still, I have found myself, and I recognize the beauty of me.

On nights like this I wonder how I could be so harsh to myself. How I could try to find myself within a searing pain or lines and lines of crimson blood.

My thoughts are so awful that they creep in without warning; even now, after having a sense of calm and peace for about a half hour, the thoughts still come in: can nobody else love me? Am I that hard to love?

I live for those moments where breathing comes easy and the heavy weight on my chest is lifted. Those nights where I can listen to a song and become lost in it, and not anything else matters. I live to be found. There's no sense in becoming lost if you don't wait for the miraculous discovery and the wonder of being found.

Perhaps one day I will be happy. Perhaps maybe I will break free of the one thing that is holding me back, whatever it is.

moo.

Dear Friend,

You don't even answer my texts anymore. I guess you don't really care. I'm pissed at you. Don't think you can just smile and make everything better. Even though I'll feel so bad that it'll probably work. Why the hell are you like this? UGH I CAN'T STAND YOU SOMETIMES!

I want to hurt the people who made you this way

Shit

WITH UNCONDITIONAL FREAKING LOVE

ERIN

IT'S NOT LIKE I CAME INTO YOUR LIFE AND WAS A BRIGHT RAY OF SUNSHINE OR ANYTHING WHEN YOUR LIFE WAS CRUMBLING TO PIECES

NO I DIDN'T DO THAT AT ALL JUST GO HANG WITH EVERYBODY ELSE AND IGNORE ME THAT'LL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER

UGH PEOPLE.

THIS ISN'T FAIR

mmph

of course though I'm not addicted to vicodin and I know eventually I'll come off of this drug stupor but I mean while it's here I might as well eat ice pops and download music and sing and ask stupid questions.

Oww. My mouth.

Downside: a whole lot of pain.

Upside: can't think about anything else but eating ice cream and being in pain and lounging around and I've been high on anesthesia and drugged up on vicodin for the past two days so I have like no idea what's going on and everything is so confusing and weird. hahaha, vicodin makes things funny.

I can barely think about anything that's bothering me, this is nice.

The reason.

The reason that I don't know how to heal is straightforward: it was never about me healing.

For my whole life, it's never been about ME getting over distress. It was always about others.

When I was a young girl growing up, it was about my brother becoming a better person, someone who didn't fail all his tests and smoke and drink and call my mother crude names until she cried. It wasn't about me learning to deal with all of the fighting; I just hid up in my room and tried to remain as calm as possible.

When my sister was having her problems, it was all about her. She was like the sun, and we were in her orbit. She was the center of our universe; if she was off-kilter or if she was particularly harsh, we all got burned. It was about her self-destruction; it wasn't about me realizing it. It was about her depression, not about my fear and sadness. Her problems. Her accomplishments. Her health.

It wasn't about my health.

And when my parents fought it was always about them, and I had no say in any of it.

You hear of parents staying together for the kids; I felt like I was keeping myself together for the family. It was my job to prove that I was a child who would rise to meet my goals.

When I stopped swimming, it was about the team that I was letting down, not my panic attacks.

It was about me once, when I had my OCD. But all the while I was in therapy for that, I was yearning to have someone to talk with about all of the people around me.

People who looked at me didn't think I had anything to heal FROM.

My brother did: smoking and bad habits and rude behavior and social anxiety.

My sister did: depression and its close, personal friends.

My parents did: they were dysfunctional. their relationship was a battleground.

But me. I was left out, you see? But what people didn't realize was that I heard screaming and crying all the time, and I felt helpless, and I wanted to understand, and I saw traumatic things and heard things I shouldn't have that still ring in my head today. I was in the middle of it all.

And then I met him and it was all about him. All I had learned in life was how essential it was for other people to heal. I never have.

Even now, as I myself sink into the depths of depression, I wage a battle against myself in my own mind. I tell myself that this isn't my right. That maybe I have nothing to heal from. (besides the asshole who broke my heart and emotionally tormented me) That maybe the only reason I'm sad is because of my sadness for others. That perhaps I'm the lucky one; had I really faced tragedy? Is witnessing things a tragedy in itself? Have I made it all up?

Am I crazy?

Of course I think this. Of course I'm focused outwards, it was always about the people outside me. I've never closed any of my wounds because I grew up believing that the only wounds that were important enough were the ones of other people.

And I know all of this stuff, all the psychological reasons, and one would think it would help, but it doesn't. Not really. It doesn't matter what I know about the reasons behind this; you can know all you want about what makes a car work, but when it comes to fixing the car, you still have to be able to do the handiwork.

I am one giant wound.

I have discovered something wonderful.

It's called caffeine.

Yeah, I knew about it before, but I just started fully realizing how awesome it can be.

Drinking a lot of coffee and making myself feel hyper and energized.

It's totally legal.

And it won't make you die.

It's awesome.

However, I'm using it to feel some sort of energy because otherwise I feel so tired and have no motivation about anything. It's like alcohol except not.

I don't want to get myself involved with any drugs or anything, ever. EVER. EVERRRRRR

I don't ever want to become some drunk or some druggie, no no no no no no no no no no.

I want to be an actress very badly.

But if I became famous, that might kill me. The pressure, my need to please, my need to help others. If all of a sudden I had so much opportunity to help others, I would use it for so much good, I really would. If I was a celebrity, my goodness, I would HELP. The thing is, though, I would completely end up destroying myself if I became famous anytime soon. Soon being in the next year. I love acting so much so it's hard for me to realize that I want to act in films, but that I couldn't handle fame because I would forget about myself and end up dying of a heart attack at the age of like 22 because I'd be so concerned about everyone else. Like that Jimmy Eat World lyric: "A soul with a heart so big, God wouldn't let it live."

Sometimes I feel like that.

It'd be like, THIS JUST IN: ERIN DIES OF HEART FAILURE CAUSED BY PASSION FOR OTHERS

LOL, can that even happen?

Sometimes I wish that I could just forget about my problems and put them aside forever. I wish that I could go around fixing everything else, and that maybe by fixing everything else, everything would be okay, and I could just ignore that thing inside me that's screaming and aching to be fixed. I don't know what it is. It would have been wonderful if every time I ever felt pain, I let it out. If I had just felt my emotions at the time when they came, maybe I wouldn't be like this now. Maybe I would even be happy.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Screw the maybes. Screw them.

I'm searching for the answer inside of fixing other people. I'm trying to fix myself by fixing other things. That will never work. I have to work on me. My only question is...

is there any middle ground? At all?

Is there any way to love passionately and intensely for others and care SO much and also at the same time love intensely and passionately my own self and care SO much for me?

Can these two things exist together?

Or am I destined to stand in the middle of these options for my whole life?

Am I destined to keep getting angry at all of the people I'm helping?

Am I destined to keep destroying myself?

Of course, I can change it all.

But would that mean turning my feelings off and forgetting about other people all together?

I couldn't do that. That's not a life.

It's like standing in a crowd and everybody's rushing around you and you just don't even know where to turn.

There's some subconscious part of me that's screaming out to my conscious self, screaming "Help me! Focus on me! Heal! Heal all of this and mend yourself, please! You need to!"

I've been ignoring it for far too long.

But the truth?

The absolute truth?

I have no idea how to even begin healing.

From anything.

Umm.

Help me?

I am in misery.

Tired. Sad. Lonely.

Tired.

That's about all.

How did I let this happen to me?

Everybody leaves me.

I want an exception to this rule.

2:30 AM. Still up.

Hmm.

Ugh.

so alone.

so alone. so alone. oh my gosh, I'm so alone.

the world is sleeping and I'm so alone.

Oh my.

Failed again.

Doesn't matter.

It's not going to be easy.

I'll keep trying.

Writing here helps.

It helps me not to do other things I shouldn't.

I'm caught in a rut and I don't know what to do. I'm tired of complaining. I feel like I should shut up and not speak. I feel like certain people are getting tired of listening to me.

I'm in some dense cloud or something. I just don't know what to do other than go through the motions of my day. What would happen if I stopped speaking? If I started wearing black all the time? If I never went out with friends? If I stopped talking to everyone? Would someone try to help, try to reach out, try their hardest to help me make things better? Or would I just be left alone, forever forgotten?

I have done so much for my friends. One of which I cooked, cleaned, lied, cried, and was always there for. And I didn't do it because I wanted anything from her, I did it because I wanted to. I wasn't doing it so she would repay me. However, it'd be wonderful if she would be here for me too. If she would help me. That would be great.

But even she seems to have taken me for granted and used me for her own advantage. Even she.

And then in the end I still feel bad for everyone else. I still feel like everything is my fault, just because... I don't know. I don't know, I blame myself for so much. I call myself stupid all the time. I look at myself in the mirror and don't even know what to do with myself. Then lights, camera, action, and my door opens and oh hi I was just fixing my hair what's for dinner tonight? smile smile laugh laugh shut the door

scene.

And again I pace around my bedroom, collapsing into my bed or my chair, and then I am alone with myself.

That's why I hate going home. That's why I get so sad when people have to go home after a sleepover or when someone drops me off after doing something or anything. It's because I don't want to be alone with my thoughts, and my self-loathing, and my memories, and my sadness, and everything I don't know how to deal with. How do you just make this sadness go away? I can't do shit for myself. I can do things for others, but damn it, I can't do one thing for myself. The only thing I've managed to do was to hurt myself even more.

As much as I'm running from him, as much as I want to escape the death grip the memories hold on me, as much as I want to get out of this town, as much as I want to get away from this school, there's one more thing I'm running from even more.

Myself.

And when I am not alone with myself, I'm alright, but when I'm alone, the only thing I want to do is try to get rid of the part of me that makes me a failure at everything I do. I just want to grab hold of whatever is in me that inhibits me, and cut it out and throw it away.

But how in the world do you run when you're running from yourself?

How in the world do you escape from the very thing you can't?

I'm starting to notice how mean boys have been to me my whole entire life. Boys have relentlessly been cruel to me my whole entire life. I can't even talk without them making a comment. I can't even speak in class without them making some joke about me. Why? I don't understand what I ever did to make boys hate me so much. I look at myself and I'm just, ashamed, almost. I think people are embarrassed of me. Even this morning, I went into the car freaking out and my mom just told me to shut the door and to hand in a permission slip today and I'm like, you're not going to say anything about me being upset? She just said, "I'm used to your overdramatic self."

That hurts, you know?

Nobody validates my feelings. Nobody. No wonder I go crazy in my own mind.

Another thing.

When someone kills themselves or becomes depressed, or shoot up the school or something equally as terrible, so many people always say "I wonder what made them so sad" or "You never would have imagined they might snap one day."

BUT YOU WOULD. Everybody just chooses to ignore it! Why are you wondering when it's so blatant? Why is it so hard to believe when it's been so obvious for so long?

I've been called a freak so many times. I've been called a nutjob (by my own father), melodramatic (my mother), a bitch (by my sister) and... well, my brother curses at me sometimes, but I don't feel that he actually is directing anything at me. My other family members do though.

My dog is not allowed to die. She is the only one in my world who takes me as I am, no exceptions. She doesn't care about my mistakes or anything, she only cares about kissing me when I cry and loving me all the time.

She's so old. When she goes, I will shatter into billions of pieces. She's my best friend.

She notices when I'm gone.

Social Experiment

Distancing myself from friends.

Seeing who notices.

They're over there laughing without me. I surely don't matter to them. Nothing has changed for them. They are happy without me there.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

They're failing this experiment. Don't they know that if someone is depressed and they distance themselves, that means you go after them? That means you try harder?

People are so dense.

Or they just don't care.

I'm afraid they just don't care.

Blind.

They are all blind, or they choose not to see.

How is this possible?

Daughter to Father.

Dear Dad, I was beating my fists last night, bawling myself into oblivion, crying my heart out, thinking about how you would hold me and cry on me if you knew. I was remembering how hurt you were when my OCD was such a struggle. You cried because I was in pain. Last night I started sobbing just thinking of how much pain you would feel if you knew the pain I was in. Today is a new day. Some stupid kid carved the word "Fuck" into our car, and you said that mom probably got someone angry, and that they probably retaliated. How dare you accuse her. You then went on to talk about how everything in the past year between you too wasn't your fault at all. How awful of you! You have played with our emotions, you know it! How are you the same man that held me when I cried? That cried with me? How is this possible, dad? I then told you that I was having my friend sleep over, and you said, "Great. That's great. You had a friend over last night and now you're having another one over. I never get any peace and calm, I always have people running around." Dad, this isn't helping! You don't know what it's like to be alone with my thoughts! I can't go to you; you tell me they aren't real! I cry in my bedroom at night and push my tears aside when you come in. I am so harsh to myself. You do not know. I pity you, I feel bad for you, I cry in a corner curled in a ball for YOU. I dream of making your life what you wanted it to be. When I am alone, I am bombarded by all of these thoughts and memories. Oh my goodness... Do you know how wonderful it would be to be a giggly girl for a little bit? To have a sleepover and talk all night and watch TV and drink soda and eat junk food and laugh and laugh and to just forget? Do you know how much I crave the company of anyone who can let me escape inside our teenage moments? Do you know how much I wanted to save you and mom's marriage, and make everything okay? How much I wanted to scream at you that I loved my brother and that he deserved to have a good life even though he was lazy? Or how many times I hear mom yelling for you when my sister was ready to take her life? Do you know how many times I have sat up in bed wanting you to hold me and comfort me? Or how manyt times I have criticized myself because I knew it wasn't up to your standards? Or even my own? It is so hard to cry and want the person who made me cry to wipe my tears away. It is so hard to fall in love for the first time. It is so hard to watch an emotionally abusive relationship take place in my own home, and then fall into one myself. It is so hard for my feelings to be denied. It is so hard to want more than anything to tell you how I'm feeling, but not be able to do so, for those feelings will be cast aside . I love you so much. I want to save you. I want you to be happy. I want to help. I want to pull roots out of the ground on hot summer days with you. See me! Hear me! Believe me! Justify my pain, please! You cried on me, Daddy. YOU cried on ME. Can we reverse that? Can I please cry into your shirt and bawl like the helpless child that I am, and can you just hold me until I've fallen asleep? Can you please see my pain? Can you please try to heal these wounds with your own loving touch? My heart has broken. Oh, pleae, please, please by the father I need you to be, and please try to piece it back together. Love, your daughter.

Okay, then, starting over.

I hadn't taken my OCD medication so I was cranky and so if I take it from now on it shouldn't happen.

I must be crazy.

Well here goes day 1 again. I'm going to make it until friday. I will. I'll keep up with everything I'm supposed to and that should make the difference.

urges.

I have the urge.

I'm not going to do it.

Day three.

I gotta keep on trucking.

Well then.

Easier than I thought it would be. Not doing it. I want to, sure, but I don't need to. As of now. And I hope it stays that way.

Everybody sucks, they don't even notice anything. I mean they think it's all happy happy joy joy. Ugh.

I'm surrounded right now by the people at my lunch table. Sometimes I think Lucy suspects something. She doesn't say anything. I don't know if I want her to. I had a couple of "almost" moments today where that thing almost happened. I don't like to use specific words, you know? It sounds so harsh, and I guess it is, but it's not crazy and awful and disgusting when it's happening. It's controlled, it's a release, it's... well, it is crazy, but my mind somehow convinces me there are reasons.

I invited Renee over after school because I didn't want to be alone. When I'm alone, I start thinking. I hate thinking. I hate when my thoughts block out everything and I'm just staring and nothing can keep me from remembering and missing. And I hate when I get that feeling, and know what I need to do to get rid of it, or to at least take the edge off.

I have a therapist, but I actually have an appointment next week. I figure I can make it until then. With effort. I hope. Yeah, I just need to keep believing that I can. As long as there's something left over. If they leave, if they fade, it's so weird, but I'll feel betrayed. I'll feel betrayed if the wounds heal.

That sounds so crazy. That sounds so damn crazy. Maybe I am just crazy. Maybe I'm just really trucked up in the head and am criminally insane.

But then, I remember that night when he said to me that he was crazy and I told him he wasn't. And he said, then what am I? And I said, "you're just hurt, you're just hurt."

So why can't I just say that to myself? Isn't that true? Aren't I just hurt?

2 days. Ugh, I hate counting things.

2 days. Mrah. Well. Well, anyway, I guess. I don't know. I don't know. I'm bitterly alone. Nobody notices a damn thing anymore. This could harden me if I let it. LOL wait I don't even think I can be hardened. I hope not. I am so forgotten. I can feel myself being forgotten. Okay, I guess instead of doing something stupid, I'll write. Like, maybe I'll just replace it with writing in this blog type deal. Who knows, I'm stupid.

My SAT scores came out today. I took one look at them and was ready to EJFIHDUF. Not good enough. Not good enough for NYU. I don't care if they're good, I don't care. They're not good enough for me. I can't stand myself. I'm feeling out of touch with reality again, and I'm having that feeling of disconnect from the world. Sometimes I feel like, out of touch, almost as if I'm watching myself from somewhere else. Sometimes I actually feel like I need a reminder that I'm living and breathing and that I can still do something, anything at all. But it's been two days. Which is longer than I've went in a while WOWWWW

lol what an accomplishment

I love my mother. I love my dad. Even though he's HGUAHUFHDSU. yeah, even though he's that.

at the moment my friend is asking me for advice. and another friend cried today and i tried to help and still, still, I find myself listening and helping and my goodness, where the hell is everyone now? I'm up and alone and wondering and thinking and can't function for anything, and it's just ridiculous. Does anyone care genuinely besides a select few? Besides the people who need to care? I resent myself for how I feel for certain people. Crap, that's probably what triggered everything, my absolute lack of control over anything, and how helpless I feel. I felt like I couldn't do anything. Well there was one thing I could do, right? Pfft, it doesn't matter. But it does. But does it really, Erin, nobody's asking after you at school, nobody's pointing anything out, nobody's going to see YOU and sharing YOUR pain and maybe there isn't even anyone I'll ever meet on the planet who will hold me and who will cry FOR ME even when they don't KNOW me very well.

I'm a SAINT. I'm SOMETHING. I am not of this world. I do not belong here. I am obviously not of the same species or breed or whatever that the people around me are. I relate more to dogs than people. I just want to go around giving people kisses and cuddling them when they cry. I'm a royal mess. I just want to cry right now. I want to stop the other stuff. And I can, and will, but it can't all fade. If it all fades, I will freak out. I think I'm so used to having everyone walk out of my life and losing them and having them fade away, that I just want something that won't leave. Just one thing that will not leave me, that will stay with me, that is here in front of me. God, yeah. I know. God's always there. God is the one who blessed me with a heart for PEOPLE. I'm sick of them just fading out of my life and forgetting me and leaving me to pick up the memories and pieces. Gosh, just one thing I can keep, anything at all. Even an angry red mark that I can look at so I can just know it's not leaving me. I always do that. I always look. I want to make sure it's all still there. I don't want to be making everything up. I don't want to fall into another relationship with anyone and have a connection and see them at an awful place and feel like I've made a mark and have them leave and sit there wondering if I made the whole damn thing up. I want proof. I want a sign. I want a scar I can see. I want something that screams "This happened. This HURT, and you struggled through it, and you were strong, still, because you fought. And this reminder of your strength, of your determination, isn't going to leave you like everything else."

Oh my. This is everything I want to say to someone in person.

But for someone who talks so much, and shares wisdom and knowledge about the world, I wonder how many times I let the core of me really speak.

I just want to speak out the truth.

Okay, so I don't know if this is going to work.

But trying can't hurt.

That's sadly ironic.

Quitting Cold Turkey

Attempt #1.

Let's see how this goes, shall we?

Erm.

Well. I was quite angry the last time I posted, lol. Still am, but damn, was I enraged.

I wonder what I got on my SATs. I'm really nervous.

:/

ANGER.

I have finally reached the anger stage of moving on.
I want to break his glass chess pieces one by one and slam his glass chess board down on a table and watch it shatter into a million tiny glass pieces. Right in front of him. And smash it all. Shatter glass and have it breaking into tiny bits and pieces.
I'm no longer asking "Why didn't you love me?"
But now?
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"
HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?
HOW?
HOW COULD YOU?

Screw you!
SCREW YOU!
I'm not completely broken. I'm not completely gone. I still have fire inside of me. I still have something burning inside that so many people don't. I love and I hope and I believe I'll reach happiness. I still believe.

seriously though.

fuck you.
FUCK YOU!!!!!
HOW COULD YOU DO THIS ME?!?!
HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!?!?!?!!

So here's the deal.

They may say I've just another girl desperate to be heard.
And I guess they're right. I guess i just want to be heard or understood or something. I guess I know things deep down that I don't admit. Really. I know a lot of things that I don't admit. I think maybe I need to come clean.

1. I knew I was going to fall in love the whole entire time. I didn't know what it would feel like or what it would do to me exactly, but I knew it was going to happen and I felt it happening and I didn't stop it. I didn't stop it. I didn't run away. I heard everybody shouting it. I KNEW that I had to go to save myself. And guess what, people? I stayed.
2. I don't know who reads my blog, really, or if anybody does. I only know one person who does, and that's my youth pastor. I hope he's reading this. Because I usually say on these blogs what I don't know how to, or forget to say, out loud.
3. I wanted to help him and I couldn't help myself. I wanted so desperately to help myself that I tried to look for another way to do it: by helping him. I think part of what attracted me to him was that I knew what it was like to feel misunderstood and alone, even in a crowded room. I think I saw in him the parts of myself that I wouldn't face. (Except the abusive manipulative and apathetic side. That's just not me.)
4. I'M SICK AND TIRED OF HEARING ABOUT HIM, TOO. I'M SICK OF HIM. BLEGHHHHHHH HE MAKES ME PHYSICALLY SICK. I don't need him, I don't want him, I love him, BUT I CAN LIVE WITHOUT HIM IN MY LIFE. I think I actually just realized that I can live without him in my life right now. Like right now.
5. I have OCD and I obsess over people, not in a creepy stalker way, but in an "omg ugh I want to help them" or "I want to make them happy" way.
6. I feel PATHETIC.
7. I sometimes wonder if it'd be easier to freeze out that whole family: brother, sister, sister. I hate myself for thinking that.
8. I feel out of control. Who am I? Really, who?
9. It's much bigger than him, my problem. So much bigger than him. He's just the freaking catalyst.
10. I still haven't told any of the truths that I keep hidden deep down. I haven't made a full confession to a part of what I'm feeling right now. Because I can't even define it myself. I don't even know. And it pisses me off when I text people and they don't answer and I'm at the end of my rope and I just want to take something against myself but really, nobody can blame themselves, and I don't want attention out of pity.

God, help me.
Except I'm pissed at you.
Hell can't exist.


A real confession:
I don't think God is all love. If there's hell, God isn't all love.
I sometimes wonder if I'm more loving than God.
But then, at the end of the day, I think I worship a different God anyway.
I think I worship a different God than all of the rest, and I don't even think of it as worship.
Sometimes I think that God doesn't know everything himself. And that he's a big sap who wants love and yet at the same time, like me, hates perfection and knows that sin is part of what makes people people, and who doesn't want there to never be hurt, because without hurt true happiness couldn't really come, could it?

SO BASICALLY:
I'm trucked up.
I want love.
Please listen.
Please.
I won't worship a God that will send me to hell for not believing in hell.
But you all have got me frightened that I'll be sent there.
And screw that.
I'M TIRED OF RELIGION BEING ABOUT FEAR.

I'M TIRED OF MY WHOLE LIFE BEING ABOUT FEAR AND SELF-HATE.
I need to change.
i have to forgive him and forgive myself.
ugh, forgiving myself is so hard.

Am I lost?
Where can I even be found?
I still dream about it...
I still blame myself for all of these things...

FINALLY.

I AM FINALLY MOVING ON AND GETTING OVER HIM.

FINALLY!!!!!!

Dear Past Self

Dear Past Self,

I could tell you not to try. I could tell you not to love with your whole heart, and to turn your back, and save yourself countless nights of tears and worrying. But I won't tell you that. Because there is nothing that would justify saying that. Go out there and love. Don't hesitate. Just do it.

This is going to hurt like you have never hurt before. You will fall into a dark hole and you will experience an awful kind of heartbreak. But do it. Go out and give everything to them, and wonder why they don't give anything back, and get your heart broken, and experience pain and loss in ways you didn't know you could. As I sit here writing this letter to you, my past self, I can tell you that it still hurts. That i have not yet reached the end of it all. That anybody in their right mind would rather go back and change what they've done. But I don't wish that. And truthfully, even if I had the choice to go back, I think I'd still do the same things. And I think, maybe, I'm the one in the right mind.

So you may think it cannot hurt that much, if I would go through it all again. You're wrong. You're very wrong; it hurt like hell. The pain was quite unbearable. But yet, although it sounds corny, love seems to have won out. Love stands out to me, and matters most to me, rising like a waving flag above a mess of destruction. You're wrong about a lot of things. I write to you as if you are fifteen years old, and have not yet taken the turn in your life that will lead you to this. And let me tell you; you're going to learn a lot. You're going to realize that even in the wisdom you have now, you have so much that you do not know.

I won't wish you luck, I know where you end up. I'm still fighting today; it's not over. I know that you end up in pain as of now, and that you end up heartbroken. But listen. One day, I'll write another letter to the person I am now. And like this letter, i will have learned so much more than I knew at the time. I know this fight will not be easy for you. I know that you will kick and scream and cry. But you will end up alive, and with hope. You will find yourself amazed at how much you can take. You will find yourself surprised very much, and will have sudden realizations that help you.

And please. Please love yourself. I know that you will not. I know you won't. I know that you need help on that. That still, I need help on that. But I can tell you now, looking back, I love the person I was. I guess it's just harder loving myself now. But I've gotta get through that. Why stop fighting now? Even in the bleakest of days, why stop trying? Why stop loving?

I love you, you fifteen year old naive girl with a heart that aches for everyone.
I love you. I have hope that we're, you're, I'm... gonna end up happy.

ugh.

make it go away. make it go away.
help me. someone pull me the hell out of this hole. it hurts to even make the effort to keep myself erect sometimes. I feel awful.
I mean I just wanted there to be some sign. That I was in pain.
I just wanted some sign that could be seen with the eyes. I just wanted to be able to point to something and say this is how it is inside of me. this is what my heart looks like and feels like, like I've been cut open. I don't want to do it again. I can't do it again. The danger is I just don't know what else to do. What are you supposed to do when you're depressed? I can't sit around and question if I'm crazy. even though I do question that.
my mom wants me to get off and clean my room. I just want to throw myself down on the floor and cry. How can I clean my room? How can I smile and laugh with my friends who want me to come out tonight? How can I do anything? How can I even breathe with all of this stress on top of me?
I just grab my rubber bands and snap, snap, snap.
I need help. I know. I don't want to cut again.
I'm just in so much pain.