Monday, November 30

Not a particularly entertaining post...

I have always waited for someone to validate my worth---as though my identity depended on what a second party had to say, as though I could only matter if I mattered to you. I don't know if it's the feminism or womanism or any other kind of ism that has brought me to this point in my life where I can stand in front of a mirror and see beautiful, and say beautiful. I have struggled with self-loathing wrestling in my thoughts and now I can say that it is not arrogant or conceited to think well of myself. In me, there is a lot to think well of. I don't know what it is exactly, but it shines through the pores of my skin and radiates from my fingertips. It's in the blush of my lips that wrap themselves around words like a first kiss.

I've finally grown some self-esteem. After years learning to love myself more, the lessons are finally sinking in. After thousands of empty affirmations, I've finally---honest to the divine, honest to the universe---come to believe it, to accept it.

I am beautiful.
I am human.
I love.
I am loved.
I matter.

I could stand before that mirror, shoulder to reflected shoulder, warm palm to unmoving glass. Never flinch, never shudder, never waver in my devotion to love all that is me---even the uneveness of my complextion or the crinkles under my eyes, the oversized and overwhelming. I can love it all.

Dear friend, I hope that you find this someday or that you're already here. I hope you find a love for yourself---no matter what the magazines and media tells you, no matter how many bad boyfriends or girlfriends or family members try to break you down. No one can tell you that you aren't good enough. You are an entire universe within yourself. You dictate your confinements and limitations. You need no validation but your own. I could sit here writing about how beautiful you are, about how important you are until these fingers of mine start to bleed. But none of my words would matter unless you believe it yourself.

Dear friend, I love you but that's not enough. Please love yourself.


Wednesday, November 18

When you tell me that I'm a bad person, the worse part isn't that you're my favorite person in the whole world.


The worse part is that I believe you.

Sunday, November 8

It's strange to think how death-centric we all are. We live to fear, spite, or even to cheat it. Lots of us live our lives for the after-death. It's pretty much the only thing we care about.

I'd like to say that I live my life for love---but that's not entirely true. I love in spite of death; which is an ironic way to birth love, if you ask me. People don't like to get attached because life is fleeting, people leave, people die. But doesn't that just make you want to get closer to someone? To connect with them in an entirely human way because you just don't know how long we have?
Don't you want to make the most out of every experience, every relationship?

This fear of death doesn't paralyze me, I don't think. It compels me to take chances, to risk stability and comfort; because really? Who the fuck cares about what you do? What place do they hold in the ivory tower of saintdom that they can judge someone else? We all have our reasons.

I'm not scared of taking chances. I'm scared of who I'll become and the sort life I'll lead if I don't.

I'm still processing my thoughts on my 'termination'. It's not the same as when I was a kid. We just laughed it off because it was just something for me to do, someway for me to feel like an important part of the family. But now? It's bitter. It's hurtful.

There are pressures none of us have control over---piling hospital bills and a bad economy can tear people apart. We don't laugh anymore. We don't talk anymore. My dad created a distance between us because he's suffering and doesn't want to burden us with his grief.

All that tension was too much for me. We exploded. I screamed at him---for the first time in my life, I yelled at my father.

I still hear his words ringing in my ears. I still see the loathing in his eyes.


I'm not the only one getting on the unemployment line. Andrew is next to go, I'm sure of it. I can see the agitation in my father's face. My heart sinks.

He knows, too. He's sad, yes, but he's also tired---just as I am. Maybe it's for the best?

I know I'm a little pissed off at him right now, but the nasty bugger weaseled his way into my life and family and things would just seem wrong without him there.

Sometimes I think that we get along so well. We just click. It's annoying. I smile too much when he's around.

Whatever. That's too much to think about.

Back to chemistry...


P.S. Life is stupid. Perhaps death will be fun.
P.P.S. This all seem so conundrumic. A little contradictory, even.
P.P.P.S. I'm going to be a lawyer.

Monday, November 2

And Here, For A (Very) Brief Moment, I Mention Pierce...

Because he's kind of a diva and needs to feel important. Shouldn't you be studying instead of reading my unhealthy ramblings, anyway? O_o

Get on it, murse-in-training!

(You'll be happy to know that I added 'murse' to my word's dictionary.)


I don't want to be a grown up anymore. It sucks. I want someone to care enough about me to take care of me.

I don't know if that goes against feminist principles. Maybe not. I know I'm strong enough to take care of myself. I know I'm loving enough to take care of others. It'd be kind of nice to have someone take care of me for a change.

That's hard to admit. Is this want such a horrible thing? I dunno. I really just don't know.


I want to be in a relationship with the right kind of guy this time. I can never find one who is smart or passionate enough---if that doesn't make me sound like a total bitch. By the off-set chance that I do come across a cute boy with actual critical thinking skills and pure talent, he's either gay, taken, or a complete jerk. The problem is, that when you do meet an intellectual equal who isn't off the market, he's socially awkward; exhibiting the behavior of a pretentious asshole or misanthrope. There is no win for me.

There's a lot to say about quiet intelligence; it's charming. But you don't find much of that anywhere. I don't want showy. I don't want arrogant. I don't want obnoxious. I'm tired of that now. I use to think that would be okay, so long as he had the juice to back it up. But now? It's just childish and extremely unattractive.

Eh. What if that's the only type of guy I can attract because I'm showy and obnoxious and a know-it-all?

It scares me to think of the very shallow pool of potential suitors.

Holy shit.

I'm going to end up married to a FOB. One that I order off of a bride-groom website.

Oh, God.

Kill me. Just kill me

Relationships are complicated and messy. If I've learned anything thus far, it's to stay away from them as often as possible---which, mind you, isn't very often. Sometimes, it's depressing to think of how all our souls are linked together.

Give me some fucking space, will ya? Geez.

Eh. I think it's the new meds. talking. :/


P.S. Pierce says I never mention him on my blog. He forgets that I wrote a poem at his request. Betch, don't you know how epic that is??
P.P.S. People actually read this thing? Damn. Now I feel like I have to censor myself. Well, off to create a secret blog!

Sunday, November 1

I either need to work less or quit school. Because this is taking a toll on my grades and my health. I don't have time to finish my homework. I don't have energy to study. I don't have time to sleep.

I'm anxious and exhausted and frustrated every waking moment and I'm just waiting to collapse.

Please, just let this body stop functioning. There are only two options: that I get the hell out of my situation or that I fucking kill everyone.

I imagine what it would be like if I got to keep any of my money. I'd just save it. Bidding time. Waiting. Waiting until I had enough. Waiting until I knew that I could fill my tank of gas and just drive away forever. I'd never have to see any of you assholes again.

Would I miss you?

Fuck no.

I'd be gone. I'd be gone and never have to worry about this stupid family ever again. I could take care of MYSELF for once. I could live for me. I could be selfish. I WANT TO BE SELFISH.

I don't care if that makes me a bad person. I don't care what you think of me. Because you don't understand. You haven't lived my life. You haven't experienced my bad. And I don't need to explain to you or even try to make you understand because what you think doesn't matter.

Oh, everyone thinks their life is the worse.

So? That doesn't negate how shitty mine is, so just fuck off, you insensitive prick!

All I know is that I'm fed up with being oppressed, okay? I'm tired of the double standards. I'm tired of being a work mule. I'm tired of getting told every single damn day that I am worthless, that I am ugly, that I am shameful. I don't deserve this. I'm tired of fighting.

I use to think that I fought for you. Because I love you. But it isn't fair. It isn't fair that I keep on fighting for the very same person who hurts me the most.

Dad, I'm done fighting for you.