Saturday, June 26, 2010

Like A Flower

I've been thinking a lot about irony lately, and Ive come up with the greatest example of it.

My name.

A Violet is a flower; a beautiful, dark, mesmerizing flower. In fact, it's a lot like me.

I've noticed that a Violet and i have a lot in common, and not just because it's my name, but because like a Violet flower, I am only in season every once in awhile. I am only actually happy once in a great while, just as the flower only blooms in the springtime when everything is gorgeous and the world seems perfect.

I wish I weren't a flower, but I can't help it. I can't always be happy and beautiful, because that's not how I am. Sure, people tell me all the time how pretty I am, but it doesn't matter, I don't care.

It's funny actually, how much I am like that flower, or all flowers in general I suppose. Sometimes I am happy, when the flower is standing upright in the sun, but then my happiness is taken away from me and I slowly drift back into the pain, when the flower is wilting, and then I begin to hurt myself more and more, when the petals that were once beautiful begin to drop off the flower

The most ironic thing? Like a flower, I must die when my petals all drop off and there is nothing left of me to hold onto.

Violets Don't Live Forever.

This would make a great movie if only it were fictional...

How do you tell the person you love that you simply can't stand them?

I've been in love with the same guy for over a year. Seems like a short time, but for me, it might as well be a lifetime.

It's never been easy for me to love someone, in fact i've never been in love like this before, but i know it's love because i hate him. I hate him every fiber of my being. WE were perfect, for lack of a better word. No, actually we werent perfect, or else I wouldnt be in this mess right? He was perfect. When I was a little girl of about five whose heart and soul still believed in the wondrous dream of "happily ever after" I pined for the day when my Prince Charming would come and carry me off to his castle in the sunset. When I was fifteen years old, that five year old little girl's dream i used to have came true in the form of Steven Hanson.

We met at school, the only connection between us being that we hung out with the same group of people. Honestly, i didnt think of him that way at first, because to me that little girls dream of a prince charming and a happily ever after had been crushed along with many other silly childhood dreams I'd like to have kept for awhile longer.

Still.....there was something about him. The way he made me skin crawl whenever he wrapped his arms around me or how my chest would tighten every time he flashed me a smile with those baby blue eyes of his. He was by far the best thing that had ever happened to me in my life, and I couldn't believe he was mine, all mine.

I shouldnt have let myself get so involved, my rational, depressed self knew better then to let him in, let him pentrate the brick wall I had put up between me and the rest of all humanity, but he had a way with me that I'll never in a million years be able to understand. I knew that he was going to leave me, no one has ever stayed with me even when they promised they would, but it still hurt more then anything else in the world to know i was going to lose the one person in the world Id ever felt that way toward. It felt like my heart was being torn right out of my chest and stomped on with a steel toed boot; more pain then i think ive ever felt in my life. I knew what this feeling was, I've felt it everyday since he left to move to Texas. Heartbreak.

Love makes you crazy, in fact im pretty sure love and insanity are one and the same. I cant even begin to describe how hurt I've been since he left, and it's just not fair. We weren't together very long, im the one who ended it, and we dont even talk anymore. but these things only make my suffering that much more insane, because i know better then anyone that due to all these things, he shouldnt have any effect on me. But he does. I dont know why, I dont know magical, evil force keeps pulling me back to him like an alcoholic to the bottle, but because of the way i feel for him I have had this giant ache in my chest ever since I let him go.

I let him go for a different reason then usual. Usually I cant stay with any guy for too long because I'm afraid I wont be able to give them what they need from me, but with Steven my reasoning was so different, so much more rational that it made me hurt even more so.

I. WAS. SCARED. I was scared of feeling something real for him because of my past. I didnt want him to hurt me like id been hurt before, and even though deep down I knew he wasnt like the man that hurt me at all and i had nothing to fear from him, I couldnt stop thinking about the damned what if's, my own fears. What if I get too attached to him and then he decides he doesnt love me like thay anymore? What if he finds someone else? What if I can't be with him that way and he leaves me? What if, what if, what if. My list went on and on, but my heart wouldnt let me forget him, and my mind has this troublesome way of listening to what my heart wants, and even though he is now miles away and we havent spoken in what to me feels like forever, my stupid, teenage heart still wants him just as my head still dreams up images of him every time I close my eyes. He has plagued my sleep for what seems like ages, but I wouldnt have it any other way. If a dream is the only way I can hear his voice, see his face, feel his touch-without falling completely apart-then I want to dream of him all the time, even when I know it hurts like hell. I hear love is suppossed to hurt though, so I must be doing something right.

Sometimes I try and imagine what hes doing now, what hes thinking. I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him, or he still thinks about me from time to time. Id settle for just a passing glance in his memories. I dont want him to be just a memory, and I dont want to be just a memory. I want to be his past, present, and future, but I know it can never be. Still, the heart wants what the heart wants.

The seasons keep passing now, but I dont see any change in them. All I see is grey and death and cold. These are the only things left that my body can feel, it is always winter where the sun doesnt shine and the sky is never blue, like the blue of someone I loves eyes.

A broken heart can't keep time.

Back Doors

I'm officially in love with small towns.

I've been visiting my father awhile and nothings really changed, he's still never home to hang out with me or even try to get to know me again, but that's not realy a surprise.

Since my father isn't around much, I've been spending a lot of time just getting to know this new town I've never even heard of and let me tell you something: It's amazing.

In this small town, everyone is happy, which is weird, because lots of the people here barely have enough food in their houses to feed their families, but still they feel like the luckiest people in the world. The teens here don't go around knocking over mailboxes or stealing little kids candy, instead they go to school, WALK home, do their chores, and then they go outside and enjoy the wonderful weather. There's no malls, there's only one old movie theatre, and just about no wifi, but still the people don't complain, because they're lucky.

I wish I could be as carefree as everyone in the neighborhood, but I'm not happy. I wish I could live like the people in this town, im small houses in small neighborhoods where everyone knows everyone. I wish it were that simple to be as happy as they are, but it's not.

Out of all the things that fascinate me about this town, one of them blows them all away: People use each other backs doors.

How many people do you all know who let people just waltz in through their back door like it's natural? I don't happen to know any where I grew up.

Most people have fences or walls guarding their back doors, but not the people in this town. In this tiny little town people leave their back doors open all the time so whoever wants too can just come right on in and say hello. To me, that's beautiful. If people just opened up once in awhile like the people in this town do for each other, I really think the world would be a better place.

This whole town has made me realize something about myself that I'd forgotten: I've closed all my doors. I never let anyone in, not even when they're family. It's something I had taken no notice in until now, when i saw the way people talked to their neighbors like they are family.

From now on, I'm going to try and keep all my doors wide open :)

The Bridge of Violet County

I haven't seen my dad since I was eight years old, so when he wrote me a letter and asked me to come up and visit him for a month, I was shocked.

"I think you should go, Violet" my mother said. I keep in mind that she doesn't really know all about my father and the kind of man he is, even though she was married to the man for a few years it's like they never even knew each other at all.

"Because he's your father".

That's her excuse? He's my father. Well, NO SHIT SHERLOCK. If that's the best explanation for why I should gp up there she can think of then this is going to be a long argument. I am well aware of the fact that he's my father, but here's the thing...

He isn't my dad.

Isn't dad the one you call the man whose been there your whole life? Who tucked you in at night and checked for monsters hiding in your closet? Isn't he the one who would drop you off at school in two blocks away just so your friends wouldn't have to see you kiss him goodbye? Isn't he the one you trusted more then any other guy on the planet?

If that is a dad, then I never had one, not even while he was around.

I thought about it a lot, and I finally decided that it would be a good thing for me to at least talk to him person, for all I know he might have changed and become the model dad I always wanted. But that was a big "MAYBE".

When I got off the plane I spotted my father right away, mostly because he didn't look any different from the last time I saw him, waving to me out of my bedroom window.

He smiled, "Hi Violet".

I could tell he felt awkward because he held out his arms to hug me but quickly drew them back.

"Do you want me to take your bag for you?"

I nodded, handing over my little carry-on meekly. I wasn't really in the mood to strike up a conversation with him, I'm not a big fan of airplane rides so I was feeling a bit nauseous, but that also might've been due to the fact that the man who'd walked out on me after learning his high school friend had raped me was standing right in front of me, nothing different about him except that he was older, and I still felt like we were miles apart.

We didn't talk the whole half an hour ride from the airport to his house, but I didn't mind so much, I was enjoying the scenery.

I hadn't been to Wisconsin since I was a little girl, and during that time I'd forgotten how gorgeous it was. There was nothing but green grass and cornfields for miles, something you don't see where I'm from. No malls, no giant apartment complexes, no freeways, no smell of pollution raging in the air. Just Green.

As we were nearing the small town of Waterford where my father lives I noticed a small pathway with giant trees on either side near a lake.

"Hey Kale, didn't there used to be a bridge right there? I think it was red and grey maybe?" I looked over at my father, not sure what he wanted me to call him.

My father looked over where I was pointing to just as we were passing it, frowning absent-mindedly, "As a matter of fact there was. We used to cross that bridge every day to get to our old house but they tore it down recently", he said, a look of remembrance coming across his stubbled face.

I sat back in my seat, devastated. That bridge had been a huge part of my childhood. I used to run across it with my bare feet and throw pebbles down below into the river, my old best friend Jimmy Wilder had tried to kiss me in the middle of the bridge when I was six. I'd even fallen over the bridge once and almost drowned in the river but my younger brother had to come pull me out when we were seven and five. That bridge had held so many fond memories for me, the only time I could ever remember myself being happy, was when I was near that bridge.

I know I shouldn't be so worked up about it, it's just a silly old bridge after all, but I feel like a part of me is now missing, torn down out of my heart and now only a piece of rubble.

I went to the site where the bridge used to be one day and found a small piece of red wood that I knew had been part of the roof over the bridge.

I held it close to my heart, the closest thing to the memory I'd ever have again.

I Want to Remember

I never thought I would want to remember this year.

So many bad things have happened to me this year that I just don't want too ever look back on; my suicide attempt, my lack of firends, my parents divorce, my dog dying, people at school treating me like a complete freak, and now my best friend Drake is graduating and leaving me in the dust that still remains in high school.

But you know what, I want to remember, because of him.

Drake and I haven't been friends for very long, but it feels like I've known him forever. We have done everything together this school year, spending every moment together that we could, and although I tell myself I would be okay without any friends, if I didn't have him I probably would fall apart.

Drake is special. I know this because of Alyson. Alyson adores Drake, I bring him with me sometimes to see her, he knows all about her, all about me, I don't keep secrets from him. He calls her sweetie-pie and baby and treats her like a princess, which is the most kind thing he could do for her. he doesn't ask questions about her condition, doesn't whine about life, he just spends time with her like she is normal, and he does the same for me.

I don't want him to leave. I thought I would be okay when he left, I tried to stop talking to him for awhile, I didn't want to get attached to him, but then I realized I already was, from the first day I met him I was attached like velcroe.

I love him, he's one of the best things that has happened to me besides meeting Alyson. I can honestly say I've never felt closer and more open to anyone then I do to him. I know we will still keep in touch, he isn't going far, but I know it's going to hurt like hell to have to walk to class alone now, without his arm swung around my shoulders. IM GOING TO MISS HIM LIKE CRAZY.

I NEVER in my wildest dreams thought I was going to want to remember this year, but because of him.....

I do.

The Monster Within

I'm quite aware of the fact that I'm more then one person, somewhere inside of me there is someone else, or something else controlling me.

I call this the monster.

It has always been there, threatening to gnaw my stomach to shreds whenever I would feed it, making me feel like less and less of a person, every day i thought I was just going to fade into oblivion, never to even have existed in the first place.

When I was a child I used to play be afraid that that a monster was going to come out from under my bed and snatch me. Too bad I didn't know that this monster already had me clutched tight in his grasp, waiting for the perfect time to destroy me like I knew it would.

Sometimes the monster tells you to do bad things, and you feel like you need to do them because if you don't, then you will feel all by yourself, because this creature is all you've ever had.

I'm used to it now, I have ceased trying to fight the best off tooth and nail, there's no point, it's not going to go away, it's not going to just stop controlling me because I want it too, it doesn't work that way.

Sometimes I feel like if I killed myself I'd be doing the world a favor, ridding it of another deadly thing could destroy people, loved people.

I wonder somtimes if I can trick the monster into thinking it is still dark outside, so it will think that I need to aleep all day, no time to commit any harmful acts against myself.

I sighed, I couldn't trick the voice, it is an evil version of me, exactly like me in every way possible, except for that the real me is.....I don't know. I don't know wha the real me is like, I haven't been alone in my own body long enough to find her.

I crash to the floor of my broom, cradled next to the bed, the voice was coming back already, and giving way to the monster within.

Content with Loneliness

I don't have friends.

I used to think that I was weird or something because no one wanted anything to do with me when I was a kid, they would come up to say hi and everything and try to be friendly, but I was always too secluded and shy to say anything back, so they would back off, and sooner or later try again, and fail to still get me to talk.

Now people don't even try to talk to me.

People call me the quiet girl, but I'm far from it. I love to talk to people one on one, if its just me and someone else I'm fine, but I hate parties, I won't talk at them at all, so I don't go too any.

People call me the self-absorbed bitch, but really it's not my fault that I just like to model. It's not like a flaunt my good looks and wave them around in other girls faces like im all that, because I don't. I don't talk about my modeling stuff, I don't talk about the fact that I've been told by random strangers that I'm very pretty, and I don't talk about how I've been in commercials on television. I don't talk about these things, because it would be like saying "I'm better than you" even if I never say anything close to it, people here what they want too here.

People call me a liar, but really they wouldn't believe if I told them I'm a sophomore, even though they know I am. People think I lie about everything, the modeling, the cheerleading, the fact that I've published a book. As I've said before, IT IS NOT MY FAULT. If I see an opportunity to do something enjoyable, like modeling or cheerleading, then I'm going to take that chance, whether you believe me or not I couldn't give a damn about. I can only give people so much proof, but i can't ever change their minds. People are stubborn that way, and once they've made up their minds that someone is a certain way, even if they don't know them, then there's no use in trying to change that.

People call me a poser, because when you try to kill yourself, word gets around. "You apparently have everything. You're a model, a cheerleader, a published author, a talented singer, and good guitar and piano player, how the hell can you be depressed?" Well, just because I'm good at certain things means I must be faking being depressed, right? WRONG. I don't know why I'm depressed, but if they knew, if they took the time to actually want to sit and talk with me like a real human being, I bet you anything they could figure it out for themselves.

People judge me all the time, and I can't change that. But to be honest, I don't want friends. Friends can let you down, they can pretend to care about you, and then throw that in your face because you believed in them, you let your guard down. And people will do that because they can, because they can mess around with your mind all they want too, and it will be all your fault for letting them in.

The truth of the matter is, I don't want friends, because I'm perfectly content with being alone.