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.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
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.
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 :)
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
I'm Such a Selfish Bitch
I'm spending the whole day with Alyson.
She gave me the biggest scare I've ever felt in my whole entire life last night when I was at her house, and I knew I needed to spend more time with her then, I can't leave her alone for a minute, I'm too scared. I don't want her to leave me at all, but I don't want her to leave me when I'm not there to hold her hand.
I was sitting talking with her like I always do, laughing about something that happened at school this week, when all of sudden she started acting like she was choking, and her heart monitor began to beep really loudly.
"Aly, what's wrong?" I stood over her, I didn't know what to do.
Her face was turning a blue and she was clutching at my shirt, her eyes were wide and dilated.
"Mrs. Sawyer!!!" I screeched, my hands were shaking and I felt like I couldnt talk.
Alyson's mother ran into the room, grabbing some sort of mask and pressing it over Aly's mother.
"Just breathe Honey, mommy's here", her mother stroked her hair.
I just stood back in shock, watching Aly's chest go in and out, she was breathing normal again.
Mrs. Sawyer cleared her throat, "All better then", she smiled at me, leaving the room.
The mask was still on, and Aly was looking over at me with shame in her eyes.
I took the mask off, letting Aly let out a long breath.
"I'm sorry about that, Violet", she said.
I gritted my teeth, "It's fine, just never do it again".
Aly laughed softly, "Ok".
"Is it scary, Aly?" I sat down beside her.
"Is what scary?"
I just looked at her.
She sighed, "it used to be. Now its just like waiting for the one time when ur going to stop breathing altogether."
I caught my breath, "Can I ask you something?"
She shrugged, "Of course".
"When the doctor told you about the option to self terminate, did you think about it?"
"You mean when he told me i was terminal?" she looked over at me with concern etched in her eyebrows.
I nodded.
Aly turned her head toward the window, "Do we have to talk about this right now, Vi?"
"Answer the question Alyson Jane".
Aly sighed, "Look, there are times in life when you are going to want to give up, but you know you can't. If there is a chance at all that you can stand up aand fight, then you take it, you don't lie back and do nothing", Aly's face got very angry and she gritted her teeth like a rabid dog.
"You mean like your doing now?" I mumbled.
Aly sighed, her little chest heaving, "Violet, it's been five years since I was diagnosed with cancer. Five years spent not knowing if I was going to make it through the night, if I was going to have another birthday, if I was going to be able to breath by myself the next day. Now I know what's going to happen, no more guessing, no more wondering, no more fearing. Wouldn't you give anything to know that all your pain was going to stop?" Aly's eyes filled with tears.
"I could stop it myself if i wanted too, Aly. I could end it all by myself, just like you said. No more guessing, no more wondering, no more fearing. I am so damn tired of hopign things are going to get better for me, I would rather know my mind is made up that I am going to get myself out of this god-awful place then spend years in turmoil waiting for a bus to run me over or a car to run me off a cliff".
Aly rolled her eyes, chuckling, "You know the chances of either of those things is like one in a ten thousand?"
"You know the chances of getting cancer are like one in a million?"
Aly's smile dropped, "If you're going to be so cynical you can leave, Violet", she said, crossing her arms.
I groaned, "Look, I'm just trying to cope with all of this ok, on top of everything else going on in my life now i have to deal with my best friend dying? It's not fair, Alyson!"
Alyson sat up in bed, something she never does, "Life's not fair, Violet! All you ever do is whine about how your life is so miserable. I'm so depressed right now, Alyson, why doesn't God love me, Alyson?! Give it a rest, alright? Don't you dare for one second think that you have it worse then i do! You have no idea what it's like to have to lie in this bed every waking moment and think "I'm going to die soon". You could have everything you ever wanted, but you choose to soak in your own self pity? Do yourself a favor Violet, grow up!"
I sat down, speechless. SHE IS SO RIGHT.
Why the hell am I depressed? I'm a great person, my life doesn't suck, what's the matter with me?
"I'm sorry, Alyson", I whisper.
Alyson closes her eyes, "It's fine, Violet, I'm going to get some rest now, I'll see you tomorrow", Alyson turned over, laying her head down on her pillow.
I nod, standing up. I'm about to head out the door when Alyson speaks again.
"Oh hey, by the way, If I'm not here tomorrow, would you mind doing something for me?" she asks, figeting a little.
"Anything for you, Al", I try to smile.
Alyson smiles back, "Be my parents new daughter".
I laugh, "Sorry Al, I could never replace you".
"Well, would you at least try?" she asks me, a serious look on her little face.
I bit my lower lip, "Ok Alyson, I'll try".
She nods, "Thank you Violet, I love you". She settles into bed.
I turn out the light as I leave, "Love you too, Kiddo".
She gave me the biggest scare I've ever felt in my whole entire life last night when I was at her house, and I knew I needed to spend more time with her then, I can't leave her alone for a minute, I'm too scared. I don't want her to leave me at all, but I don't want her to leave me when I'm not there to hold her hand.
I was sitting talking with her like I always do, laughing about something that happened at school this week, when all of sudden she started acting like she was choking, and her heart monitor began to beep really loudly.
"Aly, what's wrong?" I stood over her, I didn't know what to do.
Her face was turning a blue and she was clutching at my shirt, her eyes were wide and dilated.
"Mrs. Sawyer!!!" I screeched, my hands were shaking and I felt like I couldnt talk.
Alyson's mother ran into the room, grabbing some sort of mask and pressing it over Aly's mother.
"Just breathe Honey, mommy's here", her mother stroked her hair.
I just stood back in shock, watching Aly's chest go in and out, she was breathing normal again.
Mrs. Sawyer cleared her throat, "All better then", she smiled at me, leaving the room.
The mask was still on, and Aly was looking over at me with shame in her eyes.
I took the mask off, letting Aly let out a long breath.
"I'm sorry about that, Violet", she said.
I gritted my teeth, "It's fine, just never do it again".
Aly laughed softly, "Ok".
"Is it scary, Aly?" I sat down beside her.
"Is what scary?"
I just looked at her.
She sighed, "it used to be. Now its just like waiting for the one time when ur going to stop breathing altogether."
I caught my breath, "Can I ask you something?"
She shrugged, "Of course".
"When the doctor told you about the option to self terminate, did you think about it?"
"You mean when he told me i was terminal?" she looked over at me with concern etched in her eyebrows.
I nodded.
Aly turned her head toward the window, "Do we have to talk about this right now, Vi?"
"Answer the question Alyson Jane".
Aly sighed, "Look, there are times in life when you are going to want to give up, but you know you can't. If there is a chance at all that you can stand up aand fight, then you take it, you don't lie back and do nothing", Aly's face got very angry and she gritted her teeth like a rabid dog.
"You mean like your doing now?" I mumbled.
Aly sighed, her little chest heaving, "Violet, it's been five years since I was diagnosed with cancer. Five years spent not knowing if I was going to make it through the night, if I was going to have another birthday, if I was going to be able to breath by myself the next day. Now I know what's going to happen, no more guessing, no more wondering, no more fearing. Wouldn't you give anything to know that all your pain was going to stop?" Aly's eyes filled with tears.
"I could stop it myself if i wanted too, Aly. I could end it all by myself, just like you said. No more guessing, no more wondering, no more fearing. I am so damn tired of hopign things are going to get better for me, I would rather know my mind is made up that I am going to get myself out of this god-awful place then spend years in turmoil waiting for a bus to run me over or a car to run me off a cliff".
Aly rolled her eyes, chuckling, "You know the chances of either of those things is like one in a ten thousand?"
"You know the chances of getting cancer are like one in a million?"
Aly's smile dropped, "If you're going to be so cynical you can leave, Violet", she said, crossing her arms.
I groaned, "Look, I'm just trying to cope with all of this ok, on top of everything else going on in my life now i have to deal with my best friend dying? It's not fair, Alyson!"
Alyson sat up in bed, something she never does, "Life's not fair, Violet! All you ever do is whine about how your life is so miserable. I'm so depressed right now, Alyson, why doesn't God love me, Alyson?! Give it a rest, alright? Don't you dare for one second think that you have it worse then i do! You have no idea what it's like to have to lie in this bed every waking moment and think "I'm going to die soon". You could have everything you ever wanted, but you choose to soak in your own self pity? Do yourself a favor Violet, grow up!"
I sat down, speechless. SHE IS SO RIGHT.
Why the hell am I depressed? I'm a great person, my life doesn't suck, what's the matter with me?
"I'm sorry, Alyson", I whisper.
Alyson closes her eyes, "It's fine, Violet, I'm going to get some rest now, I'll see you tomorrow", Alyson turned over, laying her head down on her pillow.
I nod, standing up. I'm about to head out the door when Alyson speaks again.
"Oh hey, by the way, If I'm not here tomorrow, would you mind doing something for me?" she asks, figeting a little.
"Anything for you, Al", I try to smile.
Alyson smiles back, "Be my parents new daughter".
I laugh, "Sorry Al, I could never replace you".
"Well, would you at least try?" she asks me, a serious look on her little face.
I bit my lower lip, "Ok Alyson, I'll try".
She nods, "Thank you Violet, I love you". She settles into bed.
I turn out the light as I leave, "Love you too, Kiddo".
11:11 p.m.
Aly sleeps a lot when I come over, but she tries to stay awake to talk to me. She says she worries too much about how I'm doing.
"Hi Aly", I try to smile for her.
"I know when you're faking it", she whispers.
I sigh, "Your too good".
She smiles, "No, you're just not good at hiding it is all".
I roll my eyes, talking with Alyson always brings about sarcasm.
I like sarcasm, I use it a lot and she understands it. When I talk with Alyson I actually feel normal for awhile.
"You know, it's getting late", Alyson says.
I shrug, "so?"
"You have to make a wish soon", she tells me.
I don't know what she's talking about.
"At 11:11 p.m. your supposed to make a wish", she tells me.
I grin, that's so old that no one does it anymore, only Alyson wouldn't know that and remember it.
"Yes, that's right, I almost forgot", I nod, playing along.
Alyson lowers her eyes to my level, "What do you wish for, Vi?" she whispers, her voice is soft and barely audible, I'm afraid soon she won't be able to talk at all.
I blink, "I wish for you to get better".
I would too, I pray for her ALL the time, and I don't even know if I believe is God. But I still do it, because I'm afraid if there is one and I don't pray he won't make her better, so now I'm acting as if there is a god, and I'm begging him to make her better.
Alyson tries to shake her head, "Don't".
I almost laugh, "Aly, you need to get better".
Aly sighs, "It's pointless wishing for things that you know aren't going to be granted".
I feel tears brimming my eyes, what happened to the little girl who was always so optimistic about everything? What happened to the little girl who could make me laugh even when she knew I didn't want to do anything but sulk? I wanted that little girl back, I wanted my friend back, I wanted my Alyson back.
"You don't know it won't be granted", my voice cracked, the tears threatened to penetrate my stong demeanor.
"Yes I do. I'm not dumb, I know I'm going to-"
"Please Aly, don't say it", I shook my head, coming up to sit on the edge of her bed.
"Violet, listen to me. Everyone dies, it's not something you can avoid, but you, you can live! Your healthy, beautiful, talented, and you can be anything you want to be", Alyson smiled warmly at me.
I sighed heavily, "I'm not exactly healthy, Al".
Aly frowned, "Always the pessimist aren't we?"
I rolled my eyes, "Look whose talking".
Aly fumed, "Violet, I am being optimistic. I am going to go to heaven soon, and theres no place better then heaven".
I couldn't help it, I let the tears begin to fall, "Here is better, here you can be with me, you can help me get through this", I gulped down a heavy lump in my throat.
Alyson reached out to touch my cheek, "I'm going to wish for you to be happy, Violet".
No point in wishing for things that can't be granted.
I smiled, "Okay".
Alyson looked over at the clock, "It's 11:11 p.m, make a wish".
I just sigh and shake my head, "There's no point in wishing for things that can't be granted".
"Hi Aly", I try to smile for her.
"I know when you're faking it", she whispers.
I sigh, "Your too good".
She smiles, "No, you're just not good at hiding it is all".
I roll my eyes, talking with Alyson always brings about sarcasm.
I like sarcasm, I use it a lot and she understands it. When I talk with Alyson I actually feel normal for awhile.
"You know, it's getting late", Alyson says.
I shrug, "so?"
"You have to make a wish soon", she tells me.
I don't know what she's talking about.
"At 11:11 p.m. your supposed to make a wish", she tells me.
I grin, that's so old that no one does it anymore, only Alyson wouldn't know that and remember it.
"Yes, that's right, I almost forgot", I nod, playing along.
Alyson lowers her eyes to my level, "What do you wish for, Vi?" she whispers, her voice is soft and barely audible, I'm afraid soon she won't be able to talk at all.
I blink, "I wish for you to get better".
I would too, I pray for her ALL the time, and I don't even know if I believe is God. But I still do it, because I'm afraid if there is one and I don't pray he won't make her better, so now I'm acting as if there is a god, and I'm begging him to make her better.
Alyson tries to shake her head, "Don't".
I almost laugh, "Aly, you need to get better".
Aly sighs, "It's pointless wishing for things that you know aren't going to be granted".
I feel tears brimming my eyes, what happened to the little girl who was always so optimistic about everything? What happened to the little girl who could make me laugh even when she knew I didn't want to do anything but sulk? I wanted that little girl back, I wanted my friend back, I wanted my Alyson back.
"You don't know it won't be granted", my voice cracked, the tears threatened to penetrate my stong demeanor.
"Yes I do. I'm not dumb, I know I'm going to-"
"Please Aly, don't say it", I shook my head, coming up to sit on the edge of her bed.
"Violet, listen to me. Everyone dies, it's not something you can avoid, but you, you can live! Your healthy, beautiful, talented, and you can be anything you want to be", Alyson smiled warmly at me.
I sighed heavily, "I'm not exactly healthy, Al".
Aly frowned, "Always the pessimist aren't we?"
I rolled my eyes, "Look whose talking".
Aly fumed, "Violet, I am being optimistic. I am going to go to heaven soon, and theres no place better then heaven".
I couldn't help it, I let the tears begin to fall, "Here is better, here you can be with me, you can help me get through this", I gulped down a heavy lump in my throat.
Alyson reached out to touch my cheek, "I'm going to wish for you to be happy, Violet".
No point in wishing for things that can't be granted.
I smiled, "Okay".
Alyson looked over at the clock, "It's 11:11 p.m, make a wish".
I just sigh and shake my head, "There's no point in wishing for things that can't be granted".
Conversations with the Dark Thing 2
Dark Thing: Hello Violet.
Me: Go away, I know why you're here.
Dark Thing: No one's home Violet and theres so much glass on the floor...
Me: I am going to clean up the glass and throw it away now
Dark Thing: Don't do anything rash now Violet.
Me: What you're asking me do is rash.
Dark Thing: Oh Violet...
Me: Stop saying my name
Dark Thing: Does that bother you...Violet?
Me: Go away, I'm not going to talk back.
Dark Thing: Yes you are. Pretty little Violet with lips that taste like cherry pie...
Me: STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dark Thing: I'm not going to stop, Violet.
Me: Yes, you are!
Dark Thing: Hush Violet, just do what I'm telling you to do. Pick up the glass shard.
Me: No.
Dark Thing: Violet...
Me: I'm not picking it up, so you might as well just go away now.
Dark Thing: You'll pick it up. Don't you want to feel the cold glass against your skin, feel the blood rush out of that wound like a wave? Feel your eyes roll back into your head like your going to black out?
Me: NO.
Dark Thing: I know you don't mean that, Violet.
Me: I'm not your play thing, you can't tell me what to do.
Dark Thing: Yes I can, I've been doing it for 8 years, no need to stop now.
Me: Yes there is, I'm not listening anymore
Dark Thing: Come on Violet, be a good girl for me
Me: I am a good girl, which is why I'm not listening to you anymore
Dark Thing: Pick up the glass, Violet!!!
Me: No!!!
Dark Thing: *sigh* Violet, pick up the glass...Please.
Me: Don't say please, just don't say it.
Dark Thing: Violet, I'm asking you nicely now, pick up the shard of glass.
Me: *crying, crumpled up on the kitchen floor* Look, I'm bleeding, alright? Theres blood on my hands, ok? Please, just go away.
Dark Thing: Thank you
Me: Go away, I know why you're here.
Dark Thing: No one's home Violet and theres so much glass on the floor...
Me: I am going to clean up the glass and throw it away now
Dark Thing: Don't do anything rash now Violet.
Me: What you're asking me do is rash.
Dark Thing: Oh Violet...
Me: Stop saying my name
Dark Thing: Does that bother you...Violet?
Me: Go away, I'm not going to talk back.
Dark Thing: Yes you are. Pretty little Violet with lips that taste like cherry pie...
Me: STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dark Thing: I'm not going to stop, Violet.
Me: Yes, you are!
Dark Thing: Hush Violet, just do what I'm telling you to do. Pick up the glass shard.
Me: No.
Dark Thing: Violet...
Me: I'm not picking it up, so you might as well just go away now.
Dark Thing: You'll pick it up. Don't you want to feel the cold glass against your skin, feel the blood rush out of that wound like a wave? Feel your eyes roll back into your head like your going to black out?
Me: NO.
Dark Thing: I know you don't mean that, Violet.
Me: I'm not your play thing, you can't tell me what to do.
Dark Thing: Yes I can, I've been doing it for 8 years, no need to stop now.
Me: Yes there is, I'm not listening anymore
Dark Thing: Come on Violet, be a good girl for me
Me: I am a good girl, which is why I'm not listening to you anymore
Dark Thing: Pick up the glass, Violet!!!
Me: No!!!
Dark Thing: *sigh* Violet, pick up the glass...Please.
Me: Don't say please, just don't say it.
Dark Thing: Violet, I'm asking you nicely now, pick up the shard of glass.
Me: *crying, crumpled up on the kitchen floor* Look, I'm bleeding, alright? Theres blood on my hands, ok? Please, just go away.
Dark Thing: Thank you
I'm Looking for an Answer
Teachers think they know everything, but they don’t.
Chemistry is the dullest class ever, especially when my teacher Mrs. Krud (yes, that’s her real name) drones on and on about carbon solutions and blah, blah, blah.
I’m usually lost by the time she says the word “Today” at the very beginning of cass.
It’s easier to daydream, most of the time it’s about pickign up a two-by-four and shooting up Mrs. Krud’s classroom. I don’t have many violent thoughts when it comes to other people, but Mrs. Krud is the devil reincarnated, how a man ever came to marry her is beyond me.
“Violet, do you know the answer?” I wasn’t paying attention today, which is why she chose me to annihilate.
It’s not that I don’t care about Chemistry, I’m actually quite good at it and get all A’s on everything in there, I think I just baffle the hell out of Mrs. Krud, she thinks If I was failing and not paying attention, I’d be a lot more fun to torment.
“Answer to what?” I blink, jerking my head in her direction.
Now I’m screwed, here comes the smoke billowing out of Krud’s ears like someone just put out a fire.
“Is life pointless?”
I don’t know why we are talking about this today, I’ve missed the whole lecture, but I can tell Krud is already aware of this by the devilish grin on her face.
I turn my head away, beginning to day dream again.
Is life pointless? Yes. No. Maybe so.
Pointless: meaningless, unproductive, futile.
Yeah, I’d say that just about sums up life.
Life is meaningless. You can’t put on a meaning on it because then you have to live up to that meaning, and you can’t, because Life isn’t something you live up too, it’s just something you do, or don’t do.
Life is unproductive. I could squander an hour sitting on the coach watching movies and television and eating popcorn all day, but I’m still living. We are all unproductive, which means life itself is also.
Life is futile. Why live when you could be dead forever? You can’t live forever, not yet anyway, so it’s pointless to try, pointless to think, pointless to keep on going.
Pointless, pointless, pointless.
“Well Ms. Blake, I’m looking for an answer”, Mrs. Krud stood at the front of the room, hands placed on pudgy hips.
The bell rang.
I smiled, “sorry, time’s up”.
Chemistry is the dullest class ever, especially when my teacher Mrs. Krud (yes, that’s her real name) drones on and on about carbon solutions and blah, blah, blah.
I’m usually lost by the time she says the word “Today” at the very beginning of cass.
It’s easier to daydream, most of the time it’s about pickign up a two-by-four and shooting up Mrs. Krud’s classroom. I don’t have many violent thoughts when it comes to other people, but Mrs. Krud is the devil reincarnated, how a man ever came to marry her is beyond me.
“Violet, do you know the answer?” I wasn’t paying attention today, which is why she chose me to annihilate.
It’s not that I don’t care about Chemistry, I’m actually quite good at it and get all A’s on everything in there, I think I just baffle the hell out of Mrs. Krud, she thinks If I was failing and not paying attention, I’d be a lot more fun to torment.
“Answer to what?” I blink, jerking my head in her direction.
Now I’m screwed, here comes the smoke billowing out of Krud’s ears like someone just put out a fire.
“Is life pointless?”
I don’t know why we are talking about this today, I’ve missed the whole lecture, but I can tell Krud is already aware of this by the devilish grin on her face.
I turn my head away, beginning to day dream again.
Is life pointless? Yes. No. Maybe so.
Pointless: meaningless, unproductive, futile.
Yeah, I’d say that just about sums up life.
Life is meaningless. You can’t put on a meaning on it because then you have to live up to that meaning, and you can’t, because Life isn’t something you live up too, it’s just something you do, or don’t do.
Life is unproductive. I could squander an hour sitting on the coach watching movies and television and eating popcorn all day, but I’m still living. We are all unproductive, which means life itself is also.
Life is futile. Why live when you could be dead forever? You can’t live forever, not yet anyway, so it’s pointless to try, pointless to think, pointless to keep on going.
Pointless, pointless, pointless.
“Well Ms. Blake, I’m looking for an answer”, Mrs. Krud stood at the front of the room, hands placed on pudgy hips.
The bell rang.
I smiled, “sorry, time’s up”.
Heaven Can Wait
I went to visit Alyson today, like always do on Tuesdays.
Her mother answered the door, just like she always does when I knock on the door.
“It’s so nice to see you Violet, I bet Alyson will be delighted to see you”, her mother smiled at me, the same smile she ways gave me.
It annoys me, that smile the whole family seems to have painted on their faces, even Alyson. No one can be happy to have their child dying, no one can be happy that they’re dying of cancer, but still I see those smiles on their faces every time I visit, and I kind of envy them for being able to at least fake it.
I don’t even have to ask if Alyson is upstairs because she hasn’t left her bed in two months, so I trudge up the stairs to go visit my best friend.
“Alyson?” I whisper into the peeking shadow of her bedroom. I don’t know if she’s sleeping so I always whisper first just in case she is.
“I’m awake, Violet”, Alyson croaks.
I catch my breath, letting myself into the room and shutting the door quietly behind me.
“How was school?” Alyson laughs.
I give her a wince, “How do you think?”
Alyson laughs, “That great, huh?”
I chuckle, sitting down in my favorite chair, the one with the comfy seat and squishy arms that has rubber ducks on the back of it.
“How have you been?” Alyson asks me.
Even though I know she’s referring too my depression and my suicidal tendencies I don’t want to answer her truthfully, she thinks too much of me to even think that I could kill myself.
I shrug, “fine”.
Alyson shakes her head, “That wasn’t very convinving, Vi”.
I growl, “What do you expect, school isn’t exactly heaven”.
Alyson’s face drops to a glassy eyed stare, “Violet, do you think there is such a thing as heaven?”
I opened my mouth to respond but I can’t. I can’t tell her that I don’t know what I believe anymore, I can’t tell her that I think all that happens when you die is you stop breathing and then you’re stuck in nothingness, I can’t let her down like that.
“Of course there is Alyson, that’s a stupid question”, I cross my arms over my chest and pretend to be looking out the window.
“I’m going there soon”, Alyson is tracing her pale fingers across her quilted blanket.
I whipped my head around to look at her with a tight expression, “No you’re not”.
Alyson sighs heavily, “You can’t deny it forever Violet, and besides I’m tired of waiting”.
I jump out of the chair, ready to knock things around the room.
“Heaven can wait, Aly!”
Alyson turns over in the bed, yawning, “No, it can’t”.
I sit in her room for what seems like hours, just staring at the sky, watching heavens clouds fade and the moon begin to shine.
I close my eyes, “Please wait for her”.
Her mother answered the door, just like she always does when I knock on the door.
“It’s so nice to see you Violet, I bet Alyson will be delighted to see you”, her mother smiled at me, the same smile she ways gave me.
It annoys me, that smile the whole family seems to have painted on their faces, even Alyson. No one can be happy to have their child dying, no one can be happy that they’re dying of cancer, but still I see those smiles on their faces every time I visit, and I kind of envy them for being able to at least fake it.
I don’t even have to ask if Alyson is upstairs because she hasn’t left her bed in two months, so I trudge up the stairs to go visit my best friend.
“Alyson?” I whisper into the peeking shadow of her bedroom. I don’t know if she’s sleeping so I always whisper first just in case she is.
“I’m awake, Violet”, Alyson croaks.
I catch my breath, letting myself into the room and shutting the door quietly behind me.
“How was school?” Alyson laughs.
I give her a wince, “How do you think?”
Alyson laughs, “That great, huh?”
I chuckle, sitting down in my favorite chair, the one with the comfy seat and squishy arms that has rubber ducks on the back of it.
“How have you been?” Alyson asks me.
Even though I know she’s referring too my depression and my suicidal tendencies I don’t want to answer her truthfully, she thinks too much of me to even think that I could kill myself.
I shrug, “fine”.
Alyson shakes her head, “That wasn’t very convinving, Vi”.
I growl, “What do you expect, school isn’t exactly heaven”.
Alyson’s face drops to a glassy eyed stare, “Violet, do you think there is such a thing as heaven?”
I opened my mouth to respond but I can’t. I can’t tell her that I don’t know what I believe anymore, I can’t tell her that I think all that happens when you die is you stop breathing and then you’re stuck in nothingness, I can’t let her down like that.
“Of course there is Alyson, that’s a stupid question”, I cross my arms over my chest and pretend to be looking out the window.
“I’m going there soon”, Alyson is tracing her pale fingers across her quilted blanket.
I whipped my head around to look at her with a tight expression, “No you’re not”.
Alyson sighs heavily, “You can’t deny it forever Violet, and besides I’m tired of waiting”.
I jump out of the chair, ready to knock things around the room.
“Heaven can wait, Aly!”
Alyson turns over in the bed, yawning, “No, it can’t”.
I sit in her room for what seems like hours, just staring at the sky, watching heavens clouds fade and the moon begin to shine.
I close my eyes, “Please wait for her”.
Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Unhappiness
American History is full of crap.
I don’t think suicide or depression exsisted back in the days of our founding fathers, or else they would’ve known that not everyone is in pursuit to find happiness.
I think people unconsciously look for ways to be unhappy. I mean, they cut themselves off from their family, their friends. They cut up their wrists to watch the blood flow and the pain increase. They drink and drink until they’re so down in the dumps that they put a gun to their head and pull the trigger. They constantly look for ways to make themselves unhappy, and it usually ends up killing them.
But we still look for it, pine for it, make it our only pursuit. Somehow, in the shallow pit of things, we don’t care about being happy anymore, and sometimes Life stops being all about looking for the things that make us happy, and instead it becomes about looking for the things that make us unhappy, the things that we can count on to make our lives miserable, because that meets our expectations.
We expect to find unhappiness. I mean, it is so much easier to find it then it is to find happiness, so much cheaper, so much more convenient.
Maybe everyone is just looking for happiness, but if you never find it, then you’ll always be unhappy. Maybe thats what all those important men were trying to tell us, “pursue happiness all you want, your entitled to it, but I wouldn’t recommend it because you’ll most likely end it up making yourself miserable just searching for it”.
Yeah, I’m sure something along those lives exsists somewhere in the consitution.
I don’t understand history at all, but I know I am not going to pursue happiness, its just not worth it.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Unhappiness“
I don’t think suicide or depression exsisted back in the days of our founding fathers, or else they would’ve known that not everyone is in pursuit to find happiness.
I think people unconsciously look for ways to be unhappy. I mean, they cut themselves off from their family, their friends. They cut up their wrists to watch the blood flow and the pain increase. They drink and drink until they’re so down in the dumps that they put a gun to their head and pull the trigger. They constantly look for ways to make themselves unhappy, and it usually ends up killing them.
But we still look for it, pine for it, make it our only pursuit. Somehow, in the shallow pit of things, we don’t care about being happy anymore, and sometimes Life stops being all about looking for the things that make us happy, and instead it becomes about looking for the things that make us unhappy, the things that we can count on to make our lives miserable, because that meets our expectations.
We expect to find unhappiness. I mean, it is so much easier to find it then it is to find happiness, so much cheaper, so much more convenient.
Maybe everyone is just looking for happiness, but if you never find it, then you’ll always be unhappy. Maybe thats what all those important men were trying to tell us, “pursue happiness all you want, your entitled to it, but I wouldn’t recommend it because you’ll most likely end it up making yourself miserable just searching for it”.
Yeah, I’m sure something along those lives exsists somewhere in the consitution.
I don’t understand history at all, but I know I am not going to pursue happiness, its just not worth it.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Unhappiness“
Just Pretend You're Happy
For those of you wondering why I'm depressed, heres most of the story.
Dr.Meyers office was bleach white, the kind that made your eyes hurt if you looked at it for too long. You'd think having to sit there at a plain little desk all day in that pale room would kill a person. Turns out their are worst things.
"You could try talking about it", Dr.Meyers glasses were square, they weren't exactly out of style, but they seemed a bit nerdy to me.
I shook my head, balling my knees up to my chest. I bit down on my nail beds, a habit I had had since I could remember.
I sucked in the blood that came pouring out of my thumb.
"Let's talk about your siblings then", Dr. Meyers had a lemon yellow notepad sitting on his lap, one of those clicking pens bobbing against his knee.
I nodded, shaking my long blonde do around my head.
"What's your sisters name?"
"Elizabeth Jane Blake".
I'd recited this a thousand times, a million times by now, but I still needed the warm-up, I wasn't used to talking to anyone about anything, so this was just practice.
I smiled as Dr. Meyers kept tapping the pen on his clipboard. It seemed funny to me that he should have to write down if I said anything worth repeating to the authorities, didn't they think if I wanted to tell them, I would have?
"And your older brother?"
I swallowed a lump in my throat, "Cody Daniel Blake".
Dr. Meyers sighed, "You're going to have to tell me about it eventually, Violet".
I closed my eyes, I didn't have to say anything. As long as I was sitting there with my mouth shut, all he could do was moan and groan about how I was uncooperative, a complaint I heard all too often from him.
Dr. Meyers reached out and put a hand on my shoulder, a gentile, cold hand.
I jerked back, throwing myself up and into one of the walls near the door.
Dr. Meyers blinked, "You need to tell me about that", he said.
I gritted my teeth, trying to make the images in my head go away that had immediately sprang into my mind.
"Fine", I sat back down on the frigid leather couch.
I took in a slow breath, and waited for the click of Dr. Meyers pen.
"Well, It all began when my mother and father seperated"...
I was eight years old when my dad moved into his own house with his girlfriend and an old high school roommate. I didn't think much of it, my Dad was around just as much as he was before he moved out, which was almost never.
He left me alone with that roommate a lot when he and his girlfriend were at work or partying at night. I knew it wasn't fair, he was supposed to be spending time with me, that's why I went over there every weekend, but theres nothing I could do about it, so I let it go.
I didn't mind being there until one day, one scalding August day when I decided I was going to play with the hose out in the back yard. It was dwindling into the late afternoon when I finally decided to go inside and do something else for the remainder of the day, so I went into my room and started to peel of my wet bathing suit.
That's when I felt his eyes on me, scanning over my little body and looking at me like he was inside a candy store.
"Can I help you?" I asked, feeling awkward and exposed.
He didn't speak, didn't say one word, he just came into my room and started...touching me.
That's how it started. After that he came into my room at night when no one but me was home. I dreaded going there, having to look at him all the time and watch him strip me down and have his way with me until i screeched and screeched for him to leave me alone.
I would pull the covers up over my head at night and pray he didn't come into my room, but he always did.
It got worse. I tried to get him to stop, I even tried to kick him once, but he was too strong for me. He grabbed my by my arms and shook me senseless, slapping me across the face time and time again. He would strap me down to the bed by the posts with a rope and not let me up until the next morning when my wrists were torn and bloody and my whole body ached with the knowing that I had no ounce of strength left to fight back.
I couldn't tell anyone though. He threatened to do the same thing to my little sister Eliza, who no more then two years old at the time. I couldn't let him take from her what he had stripped from me. I was no longer the happy little girl that I had once been, always smiling, laughing, having a good time. He had taken that emotion from me and slandered it.
I was alone. I didn't have anything anymore. He had taken it all from me; my freedom, my innocence, my trust in people, my love of life, my youth, my vey childhood. But I couldn't let anyone else see that. I had to fake my smiles, fake my laughs, fake my happiness.
I had to whisper it to myself every single night before he came into my room, just to remind myself not to let him see me cry.
"Just Pretend You're Happy."
Dr.Meyers office was bleach white, the kind that made your eyes hurt if you looked at it for too long. You'd think having to sit there at a plain little desk all day in that pale room would kill a person. Turns out their are worst things.
"You could try talking about it", Dr.Meyers glasses were square, they weren't exactly out of style, but they seemed a bit nerdy to me.
I shook my head, balling my knees up to my chest. I bit down on my nail beds, a habit I had had since I could remember.
I sucked in the blood that came pouring out of my thumb.
"Let's talk about your siblings then", Dr. Meyers had a lemon yellow notepad sitting on his lap, one of those clicking pens bobbing against his knee.
I nodded, shaking my long blonde do around my head.
"What's your sisters name?"
"Elizabeth Jane Blake".
I'd recited this a thousand times, a million times by now, but I still needed the warm-up, I wasn't used to talking to anyone about anything, so this was just practice.
I smiled as Dr. Meyers kept tapping the pen on his clipboard. It seemed funny to me that he should have to write down if I said anything worth repeating to the authorities, didn't they think if I wanted to tell them, I would have?
"And your older brother?"
I swallowed a lump in my throat, "Cody Daniel Blake".
Dr. Meyers sighed, "You're going to have to tell me about it eventually, Violet".
I closed my eyes, I didn't have to say anything. As long as I was sitting there with my mouth shut, all he could do was moan and groan about how I was uncooperative, a complaint I heard all too often from him.
Dr. Meyers reached out and put a hand on my shoulder, a gentile, cold hand.
I jerked back, throwing myself up and into one of the walls near the door.
Dr. Meyers blinked, "You need to tell me about that", he said.
I gritted my teeth, trying to make the images in my head go away that had immediately sprang into my mind.
"Fine", I sat back down on the frigid leather couch.
I took in a slow breath, and waited for the click of Dr. Meyers pen.
"Well, It all began when my mother and father seperated"...
I was eight years old when my dad moved into his own house with his girlfriend and an old high school roommate. I didn't think much of it, my Dad was around just as much as he was before he moved out, which was almost never.
He left me alone with that roommate a lot when he and his girlfriend were at work or partying at night. I knew it wasn't fair, he was supposed to be spending time with me, that's why I went over there every weekend, but theres nothing I could do about it, so I let it go.
I didn't mind being there until one day, one scalding August day when I decided I was going to play with the hose out in the back yard. It was dwindling into the late afternoon when I finally decided to go inside and do something else for the remainder of the day, so I went into my room and started to peel of my wet bathing suit.
That's when I felt his eyes on me, scanning over my little body and looking at me like he was inside a candy store.
"Can I help you?" I asked, feeling awkward and exposed.
He didn't speak, didn't say one word, he just came into my room and started...touching me.
That's how it started. After that he came into my room at night when no one but me was home. I dreaded going there, having to look at him all the time and watch him strip me down and have his way with me until i screeched and screeched for him to leave me alone.
I would pull the covers up over my head at night and pray he didn't come into my room, but he always did.
It got worse. I tried to get him to stop, I even tried to kick him once, but he was too strong for me. He grabbed my by my arms and shook me senseless, slapping me across the face time and time again. He would strap me down to the bed by the posts with a rope and not let me up until the next morning when my wrists were torn and bloody and my whole body ached with the knowing that I had no ounce of strength left to fight back.
I couldn't tell anyone though. He threatened to do the same thing to my little sister Eliza, who no more then two years old at the time. I couldn't let him take from her what he had stripped from me. I was no longer the happy little girl that I had once been, always smiling, laughing, having a good time. He had taken that emotion from me and slandered it.
I was alone. I didn't have anything anymore. He had taken it all from me; my freedom, my innocence, my trust in people, my love of life, my youth, my vey childhood. But I couldn't let anyone else see that. I had to fake my smiles, fake my laughs, fake my happiness.
I had to whisper it to myself every single night before he came into my room, just to remind myself not to let him see me cry.
"Just Pretend You're Happy."
Happiness
The sun was shining on my face, something it hadn't done in a good, long time.
Today was just another day, no different from the day before. I woke up at 5:30 am, got ready for school, drove to school, waited for the last bell to ring before i could book it out of there, and then I went home and did homework until I had to cook my siblings dinner and go to bed. Not a very exciting routine, but I didn't mind it so much.
There is always one thing that changes though, always one thing that I know is going to be different: my mood.
One day I could be the saddest thing you ever crossed paths with, but then the next day I could be totally giddy like nothing was ever wrong...
It occurred to me that everyone in the world is looking for a way to be happy, and when they find it they're never goign to be sad again.
I don't mean to bur your bubble, but that's just wishful thinking.
It's pointless to seach for eternal happiness because there is no such thing, there is only temporary happiness, but what people don't understand is that that happiness isn't going to last. You have to be sad sometimes, you have to be mad sometimes, you have to be frustrated sometimes, its only human nature.
The problem with being depressed is that we hope for way to much from life. We cannot ask for something of it [life] when it [eternal happiness] doesnt exsist.
Happiness is like butterflies: when you chase it it will elude you but when you turn you attention to other things, it will come sit softly on your shoulder.
So, the best advice to be happy: STOP CHASING IT.
Today was just another day, no different from the day before. I woke up at 5:30 am, got ready for school, drove to school, waited for the last bell to ring before i could book it out of there, and then I went home and did homework until I had to cook my siblings dinner and go to bed. Not a very exciting routine, but I didn't mind it so much.
There is always one thing that changes though, always one thing that I know is going to be different: my mood.
One day I could be the saddest thing you ever crossed paths with, but then the next day I could be totally giddy like nothing was ever wrong...
It occurred to me that everyone in the world is looking for a way to be happy, and when they find it they're never goign to be sad again.
I don't mean to bur your bubble, but that's just wishful thinking.
It's pointless to seach for eternal happiness because there is no such thing, there is only temporary happiness, but what people don't understand is that that happiness isn't going to last. You have to be sad sometimes, you have to be mad sometimes, you have to be frustrated sometimes, its only human nature.
The problem with being depressed is that we hope for way to much from life. We cannot ask for something of it [life] when it [eternal happiness] doesnt exsist.
Happiness is like butterflies: when you chase it it will elude you but when you turn you attention to other things, it will come sit softly on your shoulder.
So, the best advice to be happy: STOP CHASING IT.
Put on a Happy Face
I find that its easier to smile then to frown.
I’m stuck in a school where no one wants to hear about your problems, they just want to get through the six classes of the day and be done with it.
What isn’t easy is pretending. I’ve never had to pretend to be happy when I’m not, it’s never been necessary. Now, in high school, it’s like they have “be happy or don’t bother coming” postered on every single space of wall. The girls don’t cry from heartbreaks, the emo’s dont shed a tear for their screwy lives, and the clinically depressed never even spring a leak for fear that if they did, they would be shunned as an emotional bitch.
I thought teenagers were supposed to be emotional, but it seems like everywhere I go people are telling me that crying isn’t going to help. Maybe it’s not, but if it relieves some of the pain, if it relieves some of the pressure I constantly feel weighing down my mind, isn’t it worth the embarrassment?
I sat in a small corner of the school today and just cried my eyes out for no reason other then I wanted people to see I wasn’t afraid of their judgmental eyes or their burning glances. As I sat there a smiley little tune came into my head, and Im still smiling through my tears no just humming it to myself.
“Gray skys are gonna clear up, put on a happy face. Brush off the clouds and cheer up, put on a happy face. And spread sunshine all over the place, Just, put on a happy face”
I’m stuck in a school where no one wants to hear about your problems, they just want to get through the six classes of the day and be done with it.
What isn’t easy is pretending. I’ve never had to pretend to be happy when I’m not, it’s never been necessary. Now, in high school, it’s like they have “be happy or don’t bother coming” postered on every single space of wall. The girls don’t cry from heartbreaks, the emo’s dont shed a tear for their screwy lives, and the clinically depressed never even spring a leak for fear that if they did, they would be shunned as an emotional bitch.
I thought teenagers were supposed to be emotional, but it seems like everywhere I go people are telling me that crying isn’t going to help. Maybe it’s not, but if it relieves some of the pain, if it relieves some of the pressure I constantly feel weighing down my mind, isn’t it worth the embarrassment?
I sat in a small corner of the school today and just cried my eyes out for no reason other then I wanted people to see I wasn’t afraid of their judgmental eyes or their burning glances. As I sat there a smiley little tune came into my head, and Im still smiling through my tears no just humming it to myself.
“Gray skys are gonna clear up, put on a happy face. Brush off the clouds and cheer up, put on a happy face. And spread sunshine all over the place, Just, put on a happy face”
The Eccentric
People call me crazy, but I’m not.
I can weave words into sentences that flow like the strands of a spider web and make even the most skilled arachnid feel ashamed, but I won’t always do it.
There’s this man that lives next door to me who calls himself “Dex” which is probably short for Dexter but he won’t say.
Everyday I go over there after school and sit at Dex’s counter while he brings me a banana popsicle (they are always banana).
A couple weeks ago our visit was different.
“Are you going to tell me a story, Dex?” I asked him, the popsicle juice sliding down my throat ans sticking to inside of my blouse.
Dex smiled his grandfatherly smile, “What shall it be today, Vi? Pirates, knights in shining armor, a killer salesman?” Dex grinned.
He loved telling stories just as much as I loved writing mine down on a pen and paper. When he talked his voice was like soft velvet. As I could weave words onto paper, he could weave words from thin air.
I shook my head, “I want you to tell me something, true”, I told him, staring off curiously into the distance.
Dex looked taken aback, “No fiction today?”
I shook my head again.
Dex sighed, “I think I have just the thing”.
“Once upon a time there lived a young girl who no one in the village knew by name, so everyone called her The Eccentric.”
I furrowed my eyebrows, “Why The Eccentric?
Dex brought a finger to his lips and shut his old eyes, signaling for me to put a lid on it.
Icurled my feet up on the kitchen chair.
“They called her this because no one ever knew anything about her. She stayed hiddden up in her hut all the time, keeping herself safe from prowling eyes that wished to judge her”.
“One day The Eccentric was visited by a friendly neighbor who told her that if she just came out of the house, just once, then she could have all the riches in the world”.
Dex’s eyes began to gleam over and I knew he was losing himself in the story.
“But The Eccentric didn’t want the riches, and she was too afraid to come out of her house and leave the safety of her home where she was free from all opinions, so she stayed in there with only her books as friends”.
“The Eccentric did lose something though, despite her constant fear of losing anything”.
“What?” I leaned forward in the chair, mesmerized by his words.
Dex blinked, “herself”.
There was a long moment of silence, and I didn’t know what to say to him, he looked so old and worn all of sudden, something I hadn’t noticed before.
“So, what happened to The Eccentric?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders and licking the remaining yellow stains from my lips.
Dex came over and sat down beside me, brushing a finger through my hair.
“I don’t know” he gave me a warm smile, but I could tell he was faking it.
I walked home that day with my hands stuffed in my pockets, feeling somewhat lonelier then I had before.
I couldn’t help but wonder what had become of The Eccentric, the young girl who never left her house?
I gasped, and stopped walking, my feet frozen to the hot cement.
I was The Eccentric. Never loving, never feeling, never letting anyone in. Dex had been trying to tell me that I was going to lose myself if I don’t ever get better, and I have a feeling he’s right, Dex is always right.
I am feeling much better about things today, and I wish more then anything I could hop on over to Dex’s house and tell him that maybe The Eccentric can learn to be Happy. But I can’t anymore.
Dex Died today of a heart attack.
No more stories.
I can weave words into sentences that flow like the strands of a spider web and make even the most skilled arachnid feel ashamed, but I won’t always do it.
There’s this man that lives next door to me who calls himself “Dex” which is probably short for Dexter but he won’t say.
Everyday I go over there after school and sit at Dex’s counter while he brings me a banana popsicle (they are always banana).
A couple weeks ago our visit was different.
“Are you going to tell me a story, Dex?” I asked him, the popsicle juice sliding down my throat ans sticking to inside of my blouse.
Dex smiled his grandfatherly smile, “What shall it be today, Vi? Pirates, knights in shining armor, a killer salesman?” Dex grinned.
He loved telling stories just as much as I loved writing mine down on a pen and paper. When he talked his voice was like soft velvet. As I could weave words onto paper, he could weave words from thin air.
I shook my head, “I want you to tell me something, true”, I told him, staring off curiously into the distance.
Dex looked taken aback, “No fiction today?”
I shook my head again.
Dex sighed, “I think I have just the thing”.
“Once upon a time there lived a young girl who no one in the village knew by name, so everyone called her The Eccentric.”
I furrowed my eyebrows, “Why The Eccentric?
Dex brought a finger to his lips and shut his old eyes, signaling for me to put a lid on it.
Icurled my feet up on the kitchen chair.
“They called her this because no one ever knew anything about her. She stayed hiddden up in her hut all the time, keeping herself safe from prowling eyes that wished to judge her”.
“One day The Eccentric was visited by a friendly neighbor who told her that if she just came out of the house, just once, then she could have all the riches in the world”.
Dex’s eyes began to gleam over and I knew he was losing himself in the story.
“But The Eccentric didn’t want the riches, and she was too afraid to come out of her house and leave the safety of her home where she was free from all opinions, so she stayed in there with only her books as friends”.
“The Eccentric did lose something though, despite her constant fear of losing anything”.
“What?” I leaned forward in the chair, mesmerized by his words.
Dex blinked, “herself”.
There was a long moment of silence, and I didn’t know what to say to him, he looked so old and worn all of sudden, something I hadn’t noticed before.
“So, what happened to The Eccentric?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders and licking the remaining yellow stains from my lips.
Dex came over and sat down beside me, brushing a finger through my hair.
“I don’t know” he gave me a warm smile, but I could tell he was faking it.
I walked home that day with my hands stuffed in my pockets, feeling somewhat lonelier then I had before.
I couldn’t help but wonder what had become of The Eccentric, the young girl who never left her house?
I gasped, and stopped walking, my feet frozen to the hot cement.
I was The Eccentric. Never loving, never feeling, never letting anyone in. Dex had been trying to tell me that I was going to lose myself if I don’t ever get better, and I have a feeling he’s right, Dex is always right.
I am feeling much better about things today, and I wish more then anything I could hop on over to Dex’s house and tell him that maybe The Eccentric can learn to be Happy. But I can’t anymore.
Dex Died today of a heart attack.
No more stories.
I'm Not Sorry
My step-dad is moving out today.
I’m sitting upstairs in my room listening to him clatter around downstairs, moving box after box into his car, pile load after load of his things and carry them away.
I get the feeling that I should be feeling sorry that he is leaving, moving away to another house where I won’t see him everyday, let him ask me how school was or anything else he usually does.
But I don’t.
I don’t feel sorry that he’s going, and I don’t know why.
He’s lived with me since I was 8 years old. He was there when my father abondened us, he was there when I needed boy advice, and he was there when I got my permit. He has been more of dad to me then my dad ever was, even when he was around, so why don’t i feel bad that he’s moving out?
He told me he doesn’t love me. I wasn’t surprised in the least bit, I never expected him too, but It’s not I’m mean to him, it’s not like I’m some horrid bitch who defies everything he says and disrespects him left and right like some kids do to their step-parents. I don’t see why he never loved me. Maybe it’s all his issues he had with his mom and his sister while he was growing up, a lot fo the abuse he suffered he suffered from them, but that doesn’t mean he has to treat the other women in his life like crap, does it?
I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t be talking since I have issues myself with men, but I guess I never really loved him either, not like a daughter loves her father, anyway. But I don’t love my biological dad like that either, not by a longshot.
I feel bad.
I’m not sorry.
I’m sitting upstairs in my room listening to him clatter around downstairs, moving box after box into his car, pile load after load of his things and carry them away.
I get the feeling that I should be feeling sorry that he is leaving, moving away to another house where I won’t see him everyday, let him ask me how school was or anything else he usually does.
But I don’t.
I don’t feel sorry that he’s going, and I don’t know why.
He’s lived with me since I was 8 years old. He was there when my father abondened us, he was there when I needed boy advice, and he was there when I got my permit. He has been more of dad to me then my dad ever was, even when he was around, so why don’t i feel bad that he’s moving out?
He told me he doesn’t love me. I wasn’t surprised in the least bit, I never expected him too, but It’s not I’m mean to him, it’s not like I’m some horrid bitch who defies everything he says and disrespects him left and right like some kids do to their step-parents. I don’t see why he never loved me. Maybe it’s all his issues he had with his mom and his sister while he was growing up, a lot fo the abuse he suffered he suffered from them, but that doesn’t mean he has to treat the other women in his life like crap, does it?
I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t be talking since I have issues myself with men, but I guess I never really loved him either, not like a daughter loves her father, anyway. But I don’t love my biological dad like that either, not by a longshot.
I feel bad.
I’m not sorry.
Thirteen Reasons Why
I recently read this book called “Thirteen Reasons Why” by Jay Asher about a girl named Hannah who kills herself, but before she does she makes these tapes that explain why she killed herself, and who was involved in her making that decision, and then she sends the tapes to the people on them and tells them if they don’t pass them on, then someone who has a copy of the tapes will release them to the public at school, ruining their lives.
It got me thinking: What are my reasons? If I were to kill myself, what would my reasons be behind it, and would anyone care to listen if I talked about it on some old tapes?
Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t, but nonetheless I have gone over everything in my head, and I think I have figured out MY thirteen reasons why.
Reason #1: Steven Hanson- We dated when I was in ninth grade and he was in eigth for over three months and even though it wasn’t very long, it still hurt when he moved away to Texas.
Reason #2: Kenny Winters- Asked me out to Homecoming this year and then decided he didnt want a real relationship…couple of days later I caught him kissing my close friend.
Reason #3: Amanda DePoy-We were friends at the beginning of the year, inseperable in fact, until Amanda’s old make-out buddy decided to tell Amanda i told ppl they hooked up, which I didn’t. Amanda’s hated me ever since.
Reason #4: Matt King-Matt, Amanda, and I were like the three musketeers but he sided with Amanda over me and even though we have begun talking again, it still stings when I think about the way they both treated me for all those months up until now, and how i thought they were my friends, but if they were they would’ve just trusted me and not a shit-load of rumors.
Reason #5: Addison Burnside-I hooked up with him at a party after me and kenny went to homecoming together and did nothing more then make out with him at a park afterward, but thought that we had something there. He decided he liked my friend Nicole instead, and I found out that they had had sex soon after Nicole dropped me off at home.
Reason #6: Patrick DICKer-Thought he was my friend but turned out to be a total douchebag who listens to what people say about me other then make his own opinions about whether or not he wants to be my friend. He thinks I’m a “whiney, self-conceited bitch”. (I just had to do that with his name, it’s just too priceless)
Reason #7: Holden McCarey-Decided to try and feel me up (which i did not agree too) when we were sitting in his car after a first date. Told all the guys at the place where he does gymnastics that I “put out” and “if they’re looking for easy pussy they should give me a call”.
Reason # 8: Jared McDonald-dated him for a week but broke it off when he told me he didnt want to date a girl with “baggage”…My apparent baggage is my little five year old brother who i have to babysit a lot, which leaves less time for a boyfriend.
Reason #9: Tommy CaHill-first kiss when I was twelve years old. Blabbed to his whole school that I let him touch my chest that night. The kiss wasn’t even worth it.
Reason #10: Ricki Gallagher-I’ve known him since I was in fifth grade and yet he still insists on calling me a slut everytime I walk past him. I don’t even really remember the kid.
Reason #11: Drake Stanton-My best friend who desperately wants to understand whats wrong with me but I don’t want to let him in. He should not be on this list by a longshot but sometimes they say if u love someone u have to let them go.
Reason 12: Phoebe Zodiac-My evil alter-ego who wishes everyone would just go die and leave her alone. She only comes out to play when I’m depressed, which is often, sadly.
And Reason #13: Everyone at my high school who says that I’m either a bitch, slut, or liar. You don’t know me at all, so it makes no sense that you would all criticize me for something you do not know that I am. I am sorry your all so conformative.
So, there they are, my thirteen reasons for wanting to kill myself.
Actually, those aren’t the real reasons, not by a million miles, but sometimes it just feels better to be able to blame other people on our unhappiness, even when we know it is only ourselves who makes us unhappy.
Thank you.
It got me thinking: What are my reasons? If I were to kill myself, what would my reasons be behind it, and would anyone care to listen if I talked about it on some old tapes?
Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t, but nonetheless I have gone over everything in my head, and I think I have figured out MY thirteen reasons why.
Reason #1: Steven Hanson- We dated when I was in ninth grade and he was in eigth for over three months and even though it wasn’t very long, it still hurt when he moved away to Texas.
Reason #2: Kenny Winters- Asked me out to Homecoming this year and then decided he didnt want a real relationship…couple of days later I caught him kissing my close friend.
Reason #3: Amanda DePoy-We were friends at the beginning of the year, inseperable in fact, until Amanda’s old make-out buddy decided to tell Amanda i told ppl they hooked up, which I didn’t. Amanda’s hated me ever since.
Reason #4: Matt King-Matt, Amanda, and I were like the three musketeers but he sided with Amanda over me and even though we have begun talking again, it still stings when I think about the way they both treated me for all those months up until now, and how i thought they were my friends, but if they were they would’ve just trusted me and not a shit-load of rumors.
Reason #5: Addison Burnside-I hooked up with him at a party after me and kenny went to homecoming together and did nothing more then make out with him at a park afterward, but thought that we had something there. He decided he liked my friend Nicole instead, and I found out that they had had sex soon after Nicole dropped me off at home.
Reason #6: Patrick DICKer-Thought he was my friend but turned out to be a total douchebag who listens to what people say about me other then make his own opinions about whether or not he wants to be my friend. He thinks I’m a “whiney, self-conceited bitch”. (I just had to do that with his name, it’s just too priceless)
Reason #7: Holden McCarey-Decided to try and feel me up (which i did not agree too) when we were sitting in his car after a first date. Told all the guys at the place where he does gymnastics that I “put out” and “if they’re looking for easy pussy they should give me a call”.
Reason # 8: Jared McDonald-dated him for a week but broke it off when he told me he didnt want to date a girl with “baggage”…My apparent baggage is my little five year old brother who i have to babysit a lot, which leaves less time for a boyfriend.
Reason #9: Tommy CaHill-first kiss when I was twelve years old. Blabbed to his whole school that I let him touch my chest that night. The kiss wasn’t even worth it.
Reason #10: Ricki Gallagher-I’ve known him since I was in fifth grade and yet he still insists on calling me a slut everytime I walk past him. I don’t even really remember the kid.
Reason #11: Drake Stanton-My best friend who desperately wants to understand whats wrong with me but I don’t want to let him in. He should not be on this list by a longshot but sometimes they say if u love someone u have to let them go.
Reason 12: Phoebe Zodiac-My evil alter-ego who wishes everyone would just go die and leave her alone. She only comes out to play when I’m depressed, which is often, sadly.
And Reason #13: Everyone at my high school who says that I’m either a bitch, slut, or liar. You don’t know me at all, so it makes no sense that you would all criticize me for something you do not know that I am. I am sorry your all so conformative.
So, there they are, my thirteen reasons for wanting to kill myself.
Actually, those aren’t the real reasons, not by a million miles, but sometimes it just feels better to be able to blame other people on our unhappiness, even when we know it is only ourselves who makes us unhappy.
Thank you.
All There is to It
Ive been thinking a lot of things through lately, trying to remember when I started wanting to kill myself.
I dont remember, I think it was just so long ago that thet fantasies started, that I just have lost track of the years.
You know the fantasies I’m taling about; the bloody bathtubs, lifeless body hanging from a rope, unconscious lump of dead weight lying on a bed, pill bottle sitting empty on the nightstand. I’ve had them all before, and many others I don’t relly understand. Throwing myself in front of a car, jumping off the golden gate bridge, going skydiving without a parachute.
I have come up with a solution to why those last few fantasies seem much more intriguing then the others. They’re…exciting. I think if I was going to really go through with it I would want to go out with a bang, you know, live on the edge for the last few moments of my life.
That’s crazy, though. Who thinks about things like that on a daily basis and thinks that it’s normal?
I do, duh.
Isn’t that normal for a teen to think about that? I mean, all people think about how they’re going to die someday at one point in there life, and i just happen to think about it now, and most of the time suicide is what I come up with, because im too chicken to get out of my office and go live in the world.
If you live, then you die faster. That’s all there is to it.
I dont remember, I think it was just so long ago that thet fantasies started, that I just have lost track of the years.
You know the fantasies I’m taling about; the bloody bathtubs, lifeless body hanging from a rope, unconscious lump of dead weight lying on a bed, pill bottle sitting empty on the nightstand. I’ve had them all before, and many others I don’t relly understand. Throwing myself in front of a car, jumping off the golden gate bridge, going skydiving without a parachute.
I have come up with a solution to why those last few fantasies seem much more intriguing then the others. They’re…exciting. I think if I was going to really go through with it I would want to go out with a bang, you know, live on the edge for the last few moments of my life.
That’s crazy, though. Who thinks about things like that on a daily basis and thinks that it’s normal?
I do, duh.
Isn’t that normal for a teen to think about that? I mean, all people think about how they’re going to die someday at one point in there life, and i just happen to think about it now, and most of the time suicide is what I come up with, because im too chicken to get out of my office and go live in the world.
If you live, then you die faster. That’s all there is to it.
Hope is Terrifying
Relay for life has been going on at my school for about a month now.
I don’t get it. Why are people trying to raise money for a cure that we have been trying to find for years and years? I think people are living on the possibility that there is a cure, but I really don’t think there is any point in wasting valuable money we earn with hard work on something that may never happen.
Yes, I know it sounds just awful not to want to raise money for cancer, but I think I’m being realistic, or at least my depressed mind does.
Something happened to me though that changed my mind. I met someone awhile back when I was in the hospital for attempting suicide near my sixteenth birthday.
I had a hospital bed with only a curtain seperating me from the person on the other side, a person I didn’t know, didn’t want to know, but somehow that didn’t matter.
“What’s your name?” a girl that looked no older then ten years old with shoulder length blonde hair and a pretty little smile on her peach lips asked me, drawing back the curtain.
I looked around for my mother, but she had decided to leave me to wallow in my own self pity.
“Violet”, I didn’t look at her.
“My names Alyson”, she said, her voice giddy like a little girls would be.
I was confused. Why would anyone be putting on a happy face if they were in the hospital? I didn’t expect to be in the hospital, I expected to be dead; I hate hospitals.
I nodded.
“What are you in here for?” she asked in an innocent voice.
I almost burst out laughing, it sounded like she was asking me what crime I committed to be sent here.
I sighed, glancing around me to see if any of the doctors noticed that I was being hurassed by a little girl.
The girl gulped, turning her brassy blue eyes away from me for a moment, “I collapsed at school”, she said.
“Why?” I had to admit that I was interested.
The girl got really stony, “I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was six and I thought I had gotten rid of it two years ago, but it turns out it’s back again”.
I just stared at her, leukemia was serious, you could die from that, and here I was wallowing over not dying when this girl was fighting for her life. I felt like such a fool.
“I tried to kill myself”.
She turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears, “Are you sad?” she asked.
I blinked at her, not knowing what to say. I didn’t know if I was sad, I didn’t know if I was angry, I just didn’t know.
“I don’t know”, I told her the truth.
Alyson sighed, leaning her head back on the Emergency room cot.
“I would never want to kill myself”.
I was surprised, “Really? Even if the doctors told you you were going to die a painful death soon?”
I didn’t think about the question before I asked it.
Alyson turned her eyes to me and smiled warmly, “Leukemia isn’t painless, and we all have to die someday, but I just couldn’t do it to myself, if I have to go, I’d rather go knowing I tried to live while I was here”.
I couldn’t speak, here was someone who was terminally ill again due to cancer and talking about dying as if it weren’t scary at all.
“Aren’t you at all afraid to die?” I was perplexed.
Alyson shrugged, “Not anymore. There comes a time when death stops being scary and just becomes a fact. What’s really scary is hope. You know, even if they found a cure for cancer tomorrow I wouldn’t take it, I would just die, because if the cure doesn’t work, then I have gotten my hopes up for nothing, and that pain has to be worse then death”.
I began to sob in those moments, silent tears that cascaded down my cheeks and made faint tracks along my face.
“What’s wrong, Violet?” she asked, concern etched in her furrowed brow.
I shook my head, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Nothing, I just have a feeling your going to outlive me”.
Alyson is the smartest person I’ve ever met. I know what she means when she says that hope starts to become scarier then death, because I have felt that many times before. I just didn’t want to try and get better anymore, because if i tried and failed, then my hopes were even more dashed before, and you fall into an even deeper depression. Death starts to become less and less scary, because there is a certain guarantee that you will not fail, unless your mother catches you or you chicken out. Death is easy, it’s not painless, but it is easy. You don’t have to have a valid reason for wanting to die, you just need your heart to stop beating. How much easier could it get?
But what if I could get better? What if I could learn to let go of my past and love the people in my life? What if they find a cure for depression tomorrow? There are so many what ifs that I don’t want to have to think about, which is why a little girl with cancer is much stronger then me. She has already thought the what ifs through and lived through them so far. I could never do that, the pressure would just be overwhelming, and the pain of not knowing is more then agonizing.
Hope IS terrifying.
Oh, it’s Alysons birthday today.
Happy eleventh birthday my hospital buddy!
I don’t get it. Why are people trying to raise money for a cure that we have been trying to find for years and years? I think people are living on the possibility that there is a cure, but I really don’t think there is any point in wasting valuable money we earn with hard work on something that may never happen.
Yes, I know it sounds just awful not to want to raise money for cancer, but I think I’m being realistic, or at least my depressed mind does.
Something happened to me though that changed my mind. I met someone awhile back when I was in the hospital for attempting suicide near my sixteenth birthday.
I had a hospital bed with only a curtain seperating me from the person on the other side, a person I didn’t know, didn’t want to know, but somehow that didn’t matter.
“What’s your name?” a girl that looked no older then ten years old with shoulder length blonde hair and a pretty little smile on her peach lips asked me, drawing back the curtain.
I looked around for my mother, but she had decided to leave me to wallow in my own self pity.
“Violet”, I didn’t look at her.
“My names Alyson”, she said, her voice giddy like a little girls would be.
I was confused. Why would anyone be putting on a happy face if they were in the hospital? I didn’t expect to be in the hospital, I expected to be dead; I hate hospitals.
I nodded.
“What are you in here for?” she asked in an innocent voice.
I almost burst out laughing, it sounded like she was asking me what crime I committed to be sent here.
I sighed, glancing around me to see if any of the doctors noticed that I was being hurassed by a little girl.
The girl gulped, turning her brassy blue eyes away from me for a moment, “I collapsed at school”, she said.
“Why?” I had to admit that I was interested.
The girl got really stony, “I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was six and I thought I had gotten rid of it two years ago, but it turns out it’s back again”.
I just stared at her, leukemia was serious, you could die from that, and here I was wallowing over not dying when this girl was fighting for her life. I felt like such a fool.
“I tried to kill myself”.
She turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears, “Are you sad?” she asked.
I blinked at her, not knowing what to say. I didn’t know if I was sad, I didn’t know if I was angry, I just didn’t know.
“I don’t know”, I told her the truth.
Alyson sighed, leaning her head back on the Emergency room cot.
“I would never want to kill myself”.
I was surprised, “Really? Even if the doctors told you you were going to die a painful death soon?”
I didn’t think about the question before I asked it.
Alyson turned her eyes to me and smiled warmly, “Leukemia isn’t painless, and we all have to die someday, but I just couldn’t do it to myself, if I have to go, I’d rather go knowing I tried to live while I was here”.
I couldn’t speak, here was someone who was terminally ill again due to cancer and talking about dying as if it weren’t scary at all.
“Aren’t you at all afraid to die?” I was perplexed.
Alyson shrugged, “Not anymore. There comes a time when death stops being scary and just becomes a fact. What’s really scary is hope. You know, even if they found a cure for cancer tomorrow I wouldn’t take it, I would just die, because if the cure doesn’t work, then I have gotten my hopes up for nothing, and that pain has to be worse then death”.
I began to sob in those moments, silent tears that cascaded down my cheeks and made faint tracks along my face.
“What’s wrong, Violet?” she asked, concern etched in her furrowed brow.
I shook my head, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Nothing, I just have a feeling your going to outlive me”.
Alyson is the smartest person I’ve ever met. I know what she means when she says that hope starts to become scarier then death, because I have felt that many times before. I just didn’t want to try and get better anymore, because if i tried and failed, then my hopes were even more dashed before, and you fall into an even deeper depression. Death starts to become less and less scary, because there is a certain guarantee that you will not fail, unless your mother catches you or you chicken out. Death is easy, it’s not painless, but it is easy. You don’t have to have a valid reason for wanting to die, you just need your heart to stop beating. How much easier could it get?
But what if I could get better? What if I could learn to let go of my past and love the people in my life? What if they find a cure for depression tomorrow? There are so many what ifs that I don’t want to have to think about, which is why a little girl with cancer is much stronger then me. She has already thought the what ifs through and lived through them so far. I could never do that, the pressure would just be overwhelming, and the pain of not knowing is more then agonizing.
Hope IS terrifying.
Oh, it’s Alysons birthday today.
Happy eleventh birthday my hospital buddy!
Dr. Whats-his-name
My mother took me out of school early today to go see a crisis counselor in some foreign area of town where it looks like everyone lives in constant fear of either being mugged, or molested, or both.
I walked into the counselors office and immediately felt like Alice must have when she fell down the rabbit hole; completely disoriented and completely idiotic.
“We have an appointment at 1:00″, my mother smiled kindly at the lady working at the reception desk.
The lady didn’t smile back, she just took down my information and told us that we could take a seat in the three chairs pushed up against a far wall.
I took that oppurtunity while we were sitting there waiting for one psychiatrist to come out of their office and take me back into the room which I’m sure smelled of pinesol (all the counselors and psychiatrists offices I’ve ever been in do), to take in my surroundings.
It was the smallest office I had ever seen, from outside it looked like the house I imagined Hansel and Gretel lived in, quaint and dainty with Christmas written all over the outside design.
The inside was even more sickening. The walls were a bleach white like they had been painted that color just to give someone a headache for staring at them too long.
“You have to at least try and put on a happy face, just a little one”, my mother shrugged, smiling meakly at me.
I rolled my eyes. My mother could be so stupid sometimes, she didn’t get that I was not happy, so I was not going to just out on a happy face so she could feel like I was improving. Besides, if I smiled it felt like I was giving myself a false hope that I was getting better, and I knew I wasn’t yet.
“Violet?” the counselor came out to get me, putting in a gleeful smile.
Great, I thought, someone else to tell me how happy I should be because my life is so much better then most peoples.
I didn’t look back at my mother who had her hand on my shoulder, but went into the room withmy head held high, just so the counselor-guy couldn’t see how indignant I was to even be here.
“Hello Violet, I’m…”
I stopped paying attention right then and there. When I came into the office the first thing I noticed was a giant glass door that led out to a grassy plain and a lake nearby, with elegant geese running across the grass.
I went straight over to the window and looked out at the geese who were flapping their wings and running around like manaics, just happy to be wild and free.
I put my hand on the glass, feeling utterly lonely. I wanted to be a goose, to be carefree and happy was all I had ever wanted. I wanted the mother goose with all her little ducklings to take me in as one of her own, even if I had to be the ugly duckling, I didn’t care.
“Violet?” a felt a warm hand on my shoulder.
I flinched away.
The psychiatrist stepped back, “Well, I can see I’m going to have my work cut out for me here”, he said as if I were some experimental invention he was planning on fixing and entering in a science fair.
I kept my eyes narrowed to the floor, my arms wrapped tightly around my chest. Couldn’t he see that I didn’t want him to work with me, I didn’t want him to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, I just wanted someone to listen to me, to treat me like I really mattered and that I wasn’t just asking for dumb attention, because that’s not what all this was.
Maybe I would talk more now with the psychiatrist, if only I could remember his name.
I walked into the counselors office and immediately felt like Alice must have when she fell down the rabbit hole; completely disoriented and completely idiotic.
“We have an appointment at 1:00″, my mother smiled kindly at the lady working at the reception desk.
The lady didn’t smile back, she just took down my information and told us that we could take a seat in the three chairs pushed up against a far wall.
I took that oppurtunity while we were sitting there waiting for one psychiatrist to come out of their office and take me back into the room which I’m sure smelled of pinesol (all the counselors and psychiatrists offices I’ve ever been in do), to take in my surroundings.
It was the smallest office I had ever seen, from outside it looked like the house I imagined Hansel and Gretel lived in, quaint and dainty with Christmas written all over the outside design.
The inside was even more sickening. The walls were a bleach white like they had been painted that color just to give someone a headache for staring at them too long.
“You have to at least try and put on a happy face, just a little one”, my mother shrugged, smiling meakly at me.
I rolled my eyes. My mother could be so stupid sometimes, she didn’t get that I was not happy, so I was not going to just out on a happy face so she could feel like I was improving. Besides, if I smiled it felt like I was giving myself a false hope that I was getting better, and I knew I wasn’t yet.
“Violet?” the counselor came out to get me, putting in a gleeful smile.
Great, I thought, someone else to tell me how happy I should be because my life is so much better then most peoples.
I didn’t look back at my mother who had her hand on my shoulder, but went into the room withmy head held high, just so the counselor-guy couldn’t see how indignant I was to even be here.
“Hello Violet, I’m…”
I stopped paying attention right then and there. When I came into the office the first thing I noticed was a giant glass door that led out to a grassy plain and a lake nearby, with elegant geese running across the grass.
I went straight over to the window and looked out at the geese who were flapping their wings and running around like manaics, just happy to be wild and free.
I put my hand on the glass, feeling utterly lonely. I wanted to be a goose, to be carefree and happy was all I had ever wanted. I wanted the mother goose with all her little ducklings to take me in as one of her own, even if I had to be the ugly duckling, I didn’t care.
“Violet?” a felt a warm hand on my shoulder.
I flinched away.
The psychiatrist stepped back, “Well, I can see I’m going to have my work cut out for me here”, he said as if I were some experimental invention he was planning on fixing and entering in a science fair.
I kept my eyes narrowed to the floor, my arms wrapped tightly around my chest. Couldn’t he see that I didn’t want him to work with me, I didn’t want him to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, I just wanted someone to listen to me, to treat me like I really mattered and that I wasn’t just asking for dumb attention, because that’s not what all this was.
Maybe I would talk more now with the psychiatrist, if only I could remember his name.
Phoebe Zodiac
My best friend asked me if I was depressed today.
“Why would you ask me that?” I stopped walking and turned to face him.
Drake looked perplexed, shrugging his broad shoulders, “You haven’t been talking lately and you barely look at me anymore”.
I bit my lower lip, starting to walk again slowly with him by my side.
“No, I’m fine”, I lied.
I could see the expression on his face that meant he was hurt that I wasn’t giving him the truth. I turned away from his disapproving eyes, why did he have to know me so well? I thought I was doing a good job at hiding my doubts of sanity from Drake, even though I shouldn’t have even tried. I’m not a skilled enough actress to hide my feelings in the real world, on-stage it’s so much easier to mask anger or sadness into glee, because you know you can be sad again later without pretending. When your sad or angry in the real world, it becomes much harder to mask, because it’s completely real and believable.
“Are you sure?”
I sighed, reaching up to stroke a stray piece of reddish-brown hair that had gone astray on his head.
“Yes”.
Drake nodded, biting his lower lip in frustration.
I was mad at myself for not telling him, and I don’t know why I didn’t in those moments, i really don’t. I trust Drake more then anyone else in my life, more then my mom even, and me and my mother are usually very close.
It’s not that I’ve known Drake Stanton for very long, in fact it’s only been four months, but sometimes when you have a connection with someone you just know that you’re going to get along, and after you spend all those four months together, you realize that person knows you better then you know yourself.
I have been analyzing that since this morning when Drake and I talked, how someone can know you better then you know yourself, and I think I know understand how that happens.
People make judgements about you the more they get to know you, they make their own opinions about who you are just by listening to you talk and seeing the accomplisments and mistakes you make, even if it is in the short period of time as our friendship has been. They notice things you don’t see in yourself. We rarely think about what our words tell about who we are as human beings, but they tell so much, and people see that when we don’t.
I could tell you the littlest things about Drake that he doesn’t catch: He’s the most contradictory person I’ve ever met. He’s pretty cocky but he doubts himself in school, he’s smart but he says some of the dumbest things you’ve ever heard. He loves soccer but celebrates when the seasons over, and he loves being Violet Blake’s my best friend, but hates being my best friend.
Apparently when I’m depressed I’m not Violet Blake anymore, and I turn into this hideous alter ego of myself, someone who hates life and is always trying to put people down. At least, that’s how Drake sees it. He even gave my alter ego a name, he calls her “Phoebe Zodiac”. I don’t know why or where he came up with crazy idea that I’m two different people, but he says whenever I’m depressed I become “Phoebe Zodiac” and no one wants to be around me, not even him. I would suppose it’s because she’s not real and no one wants to be around an imaginary, depressed girl, but I think Drake may be a little on the crazy side himself, so maybe it’s just him.
I hate the way I feel like I can’t tell Drake anything. He’s never betrayed my trust that I have in him, and I do have some, but I am just so uncomfortable with myself when it comes to trusting anyone, that it makes me want to stab myself in the cornea of my eye with a pitchfork.
I could kill Phoebe Zodiac.
“Why would you ask me that?” I stopped walking and turned to face him.
Drake looked perplexed, shrugging his broad shoulders, “You haven’t been talking lately and you barely look at me anymore”.
I bit my lower lip, starting to walk again slowly with him by my side.
“No, I’m fine”, I lied.
I could see the expression on his face that meant he was hurt that I wasn’t giving him the truth. I turned away from his disapproving eyes, why did he have to know me so well? I thought I was doing a good job at hiding my doubts of sanity from Drake, even though I shouldn’t have even tried. I’m not a skilled enough actress to hide my feelings in the real world, on-stage it’s so much easier to mask anger or sadness into glee, because you know you can be sad again later without pretending. When your sad or angry in the real world, it becomes much harder to mask, because it’s completely real and believable.
“Are you sure?”
I sighed, reaching up to stroke a stray piece of reddish-brown hair that had gone astray on his head.
“Yes”.
Drake nodded, biting his lower lip in frustration.
I was mad at myself for not telling him, and I don’t know why I didn’t in those moments, i really don’t. I trust Drake more then anyone else in my life, more then my mom even, and me and my mother are usually very close.
It’s not that I’ve known Drake Stanton for very long, in fact it’s only been four months, but sometimes when you have a connection with someone you just know that you’re going to get along, and after you spend all those four months together, you realize that person knows you better then you know yourself.
I have been analyzing that since this morning when Drake and I talked, how someone can know you better then you know yourself, and I think I know understand how that happens.
People make judgements about you the more they get to know you, they make their own opinions about who you are just by listening to you talk and seeing the accomplisments and mistakes you make, even if it is in the short period of time as our friendship has been. They notice things you don’t see in yourself. We rarely think about what our words tell about who we are as human beings, but they tell so much, and people see that when we don’t.
I could tell you the littlest things about Drake that he doesn’t catch: He’s the most contradictory person I’ve ever met. He’s pretty cocky but he doubts himself in school, he’s smart but he says some of the dumbest things you’ve ever heard. He loves soccer but celebrates when the seasons over, and he loves being Violet Blake’s my best friend, but hates being my best friend.
Apparently when I’m depressed I’m not Violet Blake anymore, and I turn into this hideous alter ego of myself, someone who hates life and is always trying to put people down. At least, that’s how Drake sees it. He even gave my alter ego a name, he calls her “Phoebe Zodiac”. I don’t know why or where he came up with crazy idea that I’m two different people, but he says whenever I’m depressed I become “Phoebe Zodiac” and no one wants to be around me, not even him. I would suppose it’s because she’s not real and no one wants to be around an imaginary, depressed girl, but I think Drake may be a little on the crazy side himself, so maybe it’s just him.
I hate the way I feel like I can’t tell Drake anything. He’s never betrayed my trust that I have in him, and I do have some, but I am just so uncomfortable with myself when it comes to trusting anyone, that it makes me want to stab myself in the cornea of my eye with a pitchfork.
I could kill Phoebe Zodiac.
Prison Bars
School is going to be hell today.
I used to like school, used to like learning about the english language and chemistry, but I don’t anymore. Now school just seems like another prison for me, somewhere people can bombard me with questions I don’t have the answers too, where kids can act like they don’t care if I live or die.
I bet they don’t care, I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if they didn’t care.
I don’t really care what happens to me at this point, I’m just sick and tired of being trapped in this body where I’m not even comfortable in my own skin, stuck inside this mind where nothing important is going on, its all just mush now that will someday turn into dust, if it isn’t there already.
I’m not stupid, I just don’t feel like giving a damn anymore. My parents ask me why, my so-called friends ask me why, but the truth is I don’t know. One day I just woke up and I didn’t care about my grades anymore. I stopped dressing up in cute little skirts and bouncy tops, I stopped doing my hair so it flowed over my neck and shoulders, down all the way to the lower part of my back, and I stopped wearing the glorious make-up that I had once prided myself over.
Why? Why, they all want to know. Did it ever occur to anyone that I just don’t care what other people think about me?
No. I didn’t think so.
I think I sound like a self-righteous, pious bitch whose just ranting about being a poor, innocent child that just doesn’t want to do the school-work, when that’s not it all. All my life I’ve wondered what I’m going to do with myself when I get out of high school, but now I see I may never get out. Serves me right, mean, criminalized depressionists don’t deserve to be let out of jail.
So, I’ll just sit here in my cramped cell space, loathing the very moment I came into this world and was bore into this world of madness. I’ll just sit here and wait for the poison to be removed from my heart, where it is as cold as the prison bars I’m trapped by.
I used to like school, used to like learning about the english language and chemistry, but I don’t anymore. Now school just seems like another prison for me, somewhere people can bombard me with questions I don’t have the answers too, where kids can act like they don’t care if I live or die.
I bet they don’t care, I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if they didn’t care.
I don’t really care what happens to me at this point, I’m just sick and tired of being trapped in this body where I’m not even comfortable in my own skin, stuck inside this mind where nothing important is going on, its all just mush now that will someday turn into dust, if it isn’t there already.
I’m not stupid, I just don’t feel like giving a damn anymore. My parents ask me why, my so-called friends ask me why, but the truth is I don’t know. One day I just woke up and I didn’t care about my grades anymore. I stopped dressing up in cute little skirts and bouncy tops, I stopped doing my hair so it flowed over my neck and shoulders, down all the way to the lower part of my back, and I stopped wearing the glorious make-up that I had once prided myself over.
Why? Why, they all want to know. Did it ever occur to anyone that I just don’t care what other people think about me?
No. I didn’t think so.
I think I sound like a self-righteous, pious bitch whose just ranting about being a poor, innocent child that just doesn’t want to do the school-work, when that’s not it all. All my life I’ve wondered what I’m going to do with myself when I get out of high school, but now I see I may never get out. Serves me right, mean, criminalized depressionists don’t deserve to be let out of jail.
So, I’ll just sit here in my cramped cell space, loathing the very moment I came into this world and was bore into this world of madness. I’ll just sit here and wait for the poison to be removed from my heart, where it is as cold as the prison bars I’m trapped by.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Conversations with the Dark Thing
Dark Thing: Hello.
Me: Hello.
Dark Thing: How are we doing today?
Me: I’m fine.
Dark Thing: Well, do you want me to fix that?
Me: Not really, but I know you are going to anyway.
Dark Thing: Don’t sound so cynical, Violet.
Me: Aren’t I always cynical?
Dark Thing: Only when I want you to be.
Me: Oh yeah, I forgot about that little detail.
Dark Thing: There you go again, always the one with the sarcastic comments.
Me: Piss off.
Dark Thing: Violet….
Me: Stop it.
Dark Thing: Hush now Darling, don’t you see this is all for your own good?
Me: I’m not listening to you.
Dark Thing: Oh, but you’re listening to me all the time, even when you don’t realize it.
Me: Go away.
Dark Thing: You see that knife over there Violet, the one with the shiny tip just pointy enough to cut into your flesh?
Me: Yes…
Dark Thing: You know you want to pick it up.
Me: No I don’t.
Dark Thing: Don’t you? Don’t you know it would feel nice if you just let the knife cut into your skin, not enough to kill yourself but enough to make you feel the pain?
Me: NO! I won’t! get out of my head and LEAVE ME ALONE.
Dark Thing: Roses are red, Violets are blue… Aren’t you blue, Violet? All sad because her daddy didn’t care enough to look after her, didn’t love her enough to leave her with a responsible babysitter who wouldn’t treat her like a play thing???
Me: STOP IT!!!!! I WON’T LISTEN ANYMORE!
Dark Thing: Hush now Violet, just pick up the knife and do it, I know you can.
Me: I can’t I won’t.
Dark Thing: Yes you will, just let your hand do all the work, there you go, pick it up.
Me: Please don’t, I don’t want to hurt, I don’t want to bleed!
Dark Thing: PICK UP THE KNIFE, VIOLET!
Me: I Can’t, I won’t!………………………………………………………………………………………
Alright, you win.
Dark Thing: Good girl.
Me: Hello.
Dark Thing: How are we doing today?
Me: I’m fine.
Dark Thing: Well, do you want me to fix that?
Me: Not really, but I know you are going to anyway.
Dark Thing: Don’t sound so cynical, Violet.
Me: Aren’t I always cynical?
Dark Thing: Only when I want you to be.
Me: Oh yeah, I forgot about that little detail.
Dark Thing: There you go again, always the one with the sarcastic comments.
Me: Piss off.
Dark Thing: Violet….
Me: Stop it.
Dark Thing: Hush now Darling, don’t you see this is all for your own good?
Me: I’m not listening to you.
Dark Thing: Oh, but you’re listening to me all the time, even when you don’t realize it.
Me: Go away.
Dark Thing: You see that knife over there Violet, the one with the shiny tip just pointy enough to cut into your flesh?
Me: Yes…
Dark Thing: You know you want to pick it up.
Me: No I don’t.
Dark Thing: Don’t you? Don’t you know it would feel nice if you just let the knife cut into your skin, not enough to kill yourself but enough to make you feel the pain?
Me: NO! I won’t! get out of my head and LEAVE ME ALONE.
Dark Thing: Roses are red, Violets are blue… Aren’t you blue, Violet? All sad because her daddy didn’t care enough to look after her, didn’t love her enough to leave her with a responsible babysitter who wouldn’t treat her like a play thing???
Me: STOP IT!!!!! I WON’T LISTEN ANYMORE!
Dark Thing: Hush now Violet, just pick up the knife and do it, I know you can.
Me: I can’t I won’t.
Dark Thing: Yes you will, just let your hand do all the work, there you go, pick it up.
Me: Please don’t, I don’t want to hurt, I don’t want to bleed!
Dark Thing: PICK UP THE KNIFE, VIOLET!
Me: I Can’t, I won’t!………………………………………………………………………………………
Alright, you win.
Dark Thing: Good girl.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Nothing Really Matters
People take everything in life for granted, and I mean everything.
I'm no different, I take my mother for granted, my stepdad, my brothers and sisters, my grades, my looks, eveything and anything you can think of.
I hate this about myself, it's one of the worst traits about me, and there are a lot of traits about me that I consider to be "the worst".
My parents decided to get a divorce today.
Well, it's not really my parents, since my stepdad is not my father, but he's been around way longer then my father ever was.
It's all my fault they're getting divorced. I yelled at him because he was hurting my sister, dragging her around by her arm and leg, and I had screeched bloddy murder at him to never touch her.
He called me "a little fucker".
Nice, right?
My mother was furious with him, saying that they were over and she didn't want to see him in the house when she came home tomorrow.
I guarantee he will still be here, and she won't care.
Nothing really mattesr. Not the fact that he hit my sister, because my sister loves him to much to care. Not the fact that he's handled me abusively too, because I was a "bad child" who deserved to be punished.
Talia's not old enough to understand that if someone hits you you shouldn't like them, you can love them, and she does love him, but you shouldn't like him.
She wouldn't let me hug her, she thinks their getting a divorce is my fault and didn't want to let me comfort her, even though I could already see the opal bruise forming on her upper arm.
I don't blame her, he's the only dad she's ever known, even if she doesn't call him dad, so it only makes sense that she wouldn't want him to leave.
I don't give a damn that he's leaving, I'm only shedding tears because I'm afraid my siblings will hate me more so then they already do.
But that doesn't matter.
I'm no different, I take my mother for granted, my stepdad, my brothers and sisters, my grades, my looks, eveything and anything you can think of.
I hate this about myself, it's one of the worst traits about me, and there are a lot of traits about me that I consider to be "the worst".
My parents decided to get a divorce today.
Well, it's not really my parents, since my stepdad is not my father, but he's been around way longer then my father ever was.
It's all my fault they're getting divorced. I yelled at him because he was hurting my sister, dragging her around by her arm and leg, and I had screeched bloddy murder at him to never touch her.
He called me "a little fucker".
Nice, right?
My mother was furious with him, saying that they were over and she didn't want to see him in the house when she came home tomorrow.
I guarantee he will still be here, and she won't care.
Nothing really mattesr. Not the fact that he hit my sister, because my sister loves him to much to care. Not the fact that he's handled me abusively too, because I was a "bad child" who deserved to be punished.
Talia's not old enough to understand that if someone hits you you shouldn't like them, you can love them, and she does love him, but you shouldn't like him.
She wouldn't let me hug her, she thinks their getting a divorce is my fault and didn't want to let me comfort her, even though I could already see the opal bruise forming on her upper arm.
I don't blame her, he's the only dad she's ever known, even if she doesn't call him dad, so it only makes sense that she wouldn't want him to leave.
I don't give a damn that he's leaving, I'm only shedding tears because I'm afraid my siblings will hate me more so then they already do.
But that doesn't matter.
Maybe I really am Crazy
I'm beginning to feel like I really might be going crazy, or more so then before I guess I should say.
I was going over things in my head today, trying to figure out why people think I'm weird, and I think I have finally come to a conclusion.
I'm a complete loon.
I'm a sixteen year old girl who hates going outside of her house and would rather people just let her be. I think it's amazing how reading just a few words on a page can take you away into another world entirely, letting you forget that in reality your really A pyscho with no life. I know I'm beautiful, and yet I'd rather the point not ever be made, in secreted whispers or in friendly compliments.
There's more reasons, but I stopped right there, because what teenage girl doesn't love to be told they're pretty if it's true?
Not any sane ones, that's for damn sure.
Some people may say that tellign yourself your beautiful is just being conceited, but I'm not just talking about on the inside, I know I'm a good person, and yet I doubt that all the time, day and night like a nagging fly that just won't leave me alone.
Maybe I really am crazy.
I was going over things in my head today, trying to figure out why people think I'm weird, and I think I have finally come to a conclusion.
I'm a complete loon.
I'm a sixteen year old girl who hates going outside of her house and would rather people just let her be. I think it's amazing how reading just a few words on a page can take you away into another world entirely, letting you forget that in reality your really A pyscho with no life. I know I'm beautiful, and yet I'd rather the point not ever be made, in secreted whispers or in friendly compliments.
There's more reasons, but I stopped right there, because what teenage girl doesn't love to be told they're pretty if it's true?
Not any sane ones, that's for damn sure.
Some people may say that tellign yourself your beautiful is just being conceited, but I'm not just talking about on the inside, I know I'm a good person, and yet I doubt that all the time, day and night like a nagging fly that just won't leave me alone.
Maybe I really am crazy.
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