I Do Not Wear a Mask

My father always said "your too pretty for make up, you don't need it." I never understood why he said that. I'm not pretty, my face is actually rather funny looking. But it's stand able. My face isn't disturbing (to most), but when I was younger I always wanted to wear it. I was fascinated by the idea of fitting in. Obsessed. I was actually kind of daring. I was always hated, I'm still not sure why, but instead of slinking off to a corner with the other geeks. I and I alone sat with the cool kids. It was actually a funny sight. Me the biggest 'butt of the joke' sitting with the most popular kids in school. Of course the gossiped about me behind my back (the nicest did), others told me that I did not belong there, one girl actually threatened to jump me after school. But I never budged. I never got up. They could never make me. I wore the make up I stole from my mother. My friend applied it before class and we gently removed it at the end of the day. I felt like now that I wore the magic mask of makeup I could blend in with the popular girls. I thought that boys may begin to show and interest and I would be something greater than myself. I would be cool. After a week I lost interest. I looked at myself in the mirror and was appalled, disgusted even. This person staring back at me, it was not me but a lousy knock off of every other girl I've met. I felt like a cheap sellout. And even more of a loser than before. I took of this mask with soap and water. And I try my best to never have to put it back on. I never want to. I dont like my face, but at least I can recognize the person it is. I don't wear a mask. This is why. 

Foxy, please read this

I hate this. If i tell you it ruins it but if i don't you don't know. And even if i do it will just give me false hopes that maybe just maybe I'll get what i need out of life to feel satisfied. I gave you all i had and now i have nothing. I love you with all i have, don't you understand that? We used to be so happy. I fell in love with you because i felt like i had finally found someone i can trust. I felt like you were true. You are. Here. Here is what i want. I am depressed. That's why I've been so snarky and bitchy and bickering. That's how i cope. Take me out of this. If you want to prove you love me, tell me everyday. Tell me why and how much. Don't let me just guess. Surprise me with things you think I'll like. Not things you think girls like, things I like. I don't mean things that cost a fortune. Anything as simple as a love letter. Or something you made yourself. The next time you take me out take me not to the most expensive place you know but plan a romantic dinner of fast food eaten by a pond or lake as the sun goes down. Treat me like you used to. Love me like you used to. I trust you. I love you. I think you are spectacular and amazing. But i guess you can say, I'm broken. My heart is broken. Fix it. I get tired of crying and keeping it a secret so you don't feel bad. Please fix it.

After the Storm

I did it. I told him. I spoke to him about how I feel. I worry that I broke his heart when I did. I worry that I poured salt on healing wounds and added insult to injury, but I couldn't hold my breath anymore. I needed to clear the air before I fell apart. Before I was past the point of no return and our relationship was unsalvageable. I needed to let him know I was going down so he could catch me. I feel selfish for this. I feel like I caused him pain by being honest. I love him. I never want him to feel pain. I never want him to feel hardship and for him I only want the best. But I can't live like this anymore. I feel broken, as a result what we have feels broken. My love when I said fix it, I meant fix us. Fix me. I feel like now that I've said everything to you, it's time to rebuild. Time to rise from the ashes, and pain and start anew. 

Thicker air

My heart and my lungs feel the same feeling. Suffocation. It's so stuffy and all my stress and worry makes the air thick and hard to breathe. I'm so tired of this. I'm so sick of it. Constant migraines, crying my self to sleep, feeling lesser, what have I done to deserve this. I'm at a stand still in my life. I need to do something. I need a plan. I'm tired of being pathetic. I'm tired of being a loser, and I'm tired of isolation. I haven't many friends. I go nowhere. I sit at home and wait for him to text. I'm tired of everyone constantly in my ear telling me to get a life. The more they do this the more afraid I get. And I go nowhere. I'm tired of my depression and anxiety being pushed off to the side and I'm tired of being forgotten. I'm tired of having to suck it up and take it like a man. I'm WEAK...... and I just want to be left alone. 

Both sides of the Fence

We can be together. That's wonderful... Right? That's the point I don't know. I'm sitting here and contemplating us. I'm contemplating you. For 9 months I lived on cloud nine, but I feel like reality got so large it knocked me off. And hitting the ground hurt. Your not a perfect person. Then again neither am I. But part of a relationship is accepting another's faults. I do love you very very much. I want to believe you do too. I do believe you do but you'll have to prove it. Our relationship is a question I'm weary of answering. My head says no. My heart screams yes. 

In My Shoes.

Anxiety attacks and Depression 

I can't breathe. I can't think straight. I can't breathe. My hands are tingling. I'm excited and exhausted at the same time. Air is becoming a rarity. It seems as though the torturous thoughts in my mind are spilling out and making the air thick and hard to breathe. Cold air is easier to breathe than hot air. But it seems as though all the air is hot, no matter the temperature. I hate this feeling. I hate myself for feeling this feeling. All my thoughts are scattered, broken up in thousands of pieces. They're fragile. Glass. I feel my brow becoming furrowed. My heart is racing. I grit my teeth. I clench them. I unclench them. I clench them again. I unclench them again. I clench them. I grip my leg. I pinch myself. I try to keep it in. To let my pinching become an outlet to relieve all of this. Then soon I feel calmer. For a second I feel relief. Then the second part comes. I hate myself. I feel heavy. I feel tired. I feel sore. I feel sad. Depression. Self loathing is common for me. I see every flaw I have. I feel them. I don't want to move. I don't want to think. My eye lids become heavy. I feel naked. Anyone who looks at me is laughing at me. Criticizing. I'm paranoid. My stomach begins to ache. I feel lethargic. I notice that I must have gained weight. My breasts are oddly shaped. I have ugly legs. I have ugly feet. I mustn't ever leave the privacy of my home again.     One single sentence repeats in my mind. Let me die. 

Your hoodie

Your Hoodie

There are some parts of your hoodie that still smells like you, but I wouldn't be lying that after a month or so these spots are becoming scarce. The next time I see you we must trade hoodies because I have three of yours. I'll be sure to wash it and sleep with it a couple nights so it smells like me for you. Your hoodies comfort me. Your pheromones are a comforting scent. I lay there and smell them and imagine your there with me, and sends me off to sleep with a kind memory. I pull my blankets tighter around me and hug my teddy tighter and kiss her head. I imagine what you'd say. You'd tell me how cute I am (even though I'm not). You'd kiss me and make me feel warm and fuzzy. I imagine that you've come to surprise me and climb in bed behind me as I'm half asleep. You'd hug me from behind. You'd kiss my shoulder and talk to me in your sweet deeper voice because your trying to be quiet. You tell me that you love me. You tell me that your happy to see me. You wrap your arms around my waist and hold me from behind. You rest your head on my shoulder and I can't help but smile. I can feel your heart beat in your chest and you're warm. I turn around and to face you. That's when it hits me. Your not actually there. Your somewhere else thinking of me too. But at least your thinking of me, at least I'm not alone in the world. And I know I'll see you soon. 

The Empire Strikes Back

I'm the kind of person to fight for what I love. I'm durable and tougher than I look. I defend myself with a raunchy bit of comedy, and a good time. If I can't laugh, I'll cry. I get this trait from my mother, and it has proven useful my whole life. My love and I are split, and as hard as I try I cannot laugh about it. To make matters worse, his mother, who forced the split, has openly attacked me and my family. They have me backed into a corner and I have attempted to take the high road and avoid confrontation with her as much as possible. This grown woman is demolishing my reputation, attacking me, and has single handedly ruined my senior year, yet I still feel a massive amount of sympathy for her. This woman believes that she's losing her son. She doesn't understand that she's pushing him away. I am not hurting him and I've caused him nothing but happiness. I think what hurts the most is that before we fought it. We fought back. Now he's tired of fighting, and I know if I fight it's going to turn out worse for him than if we don't fight it. He hurts as much as I do. I don't know what to do. I've thought of every avenue under the sun, even drastic measures that I know will never work out. As mellow dramatic as this is, life doesn't seem worth it anymore. I'd never do it, don't worry too much. That is the thought that runs through my head every few seconds. Death. Hey, maybe then they'll see what they're doing and they'll treat him better. Maybe he'll even get to attend my funeral if he's a very good boy and does all his chores. See what I told you? Raunchy humor, it works.

The Hard Truth

You're right love, this does hurt. I'm alone and cold and sad. I know you are too, at least the sad part. Maybe I'm just losing my mind. Would you still love me if I lost it? Would you still love me if I went mad? I've been toying with the idea because it's a possibility. Then again it's a possibility you might never come back too. I know that you promised you would, I believe you. You've never lied to me, and I know what you want to do. Love, the unfortunate thing about life is that it's more so about what one has to do. I don't know love, just promise that if (hopefully when)you come back, come back because you truly love me and not because you promised to. I keep dreaming of you. Good dreams made sad by the realization that they aren't true. 

In one dream you came to my house, you were smiling. I came outside to greet this unexpected visit with fear and curiosity. It was late. You rushed to greet me, swooped me off my feet and kissed me. You were so happy, and I was so confused. I asked what was going on. You said that we've won. You said that you talked to them, that they understood. You said that it was all over and that you were mine forever. You said that you loved me, and that you were never going to let me go. You said you were going to hold me until the end of time. We stayed there on the front porch for a while, talking and cuddling. And then you said you must go home, and that you'd be here to get me early in the morning tomorrow. I was so excited and happy. We won! Finally! Happiness prevails! So I went upstairs and went to bed. I woke up in real life, the dream was over, but it felt so real that for a while I believed it. I got in the shower, and afterwards put on lotion. Then I went to check the time and saw that it was 3 am. There it hit me. You weren't coming to get me. We didn't win. We could not hug and cuddle. You were never here the day before. You never swooped me off my feet. You were at home. You were probably asleep, maybe dreaming of me too. I got very sad. I laid back down in bed  and thought of you until the sun came up, staring at the ceiling. This feeling I felt, I am thoroughly positive is hell. I think heartache like this is what hell must feel like. An eternity of this.  

What I'm thinking.

So you wanted to know what I'm thinking love? I'm thinking that you, good sir, are the epitome of perfection. I'm thinking that you are my love. I'm thinking that at times you drive me crazy but I'm also thinking that if you ever stopped it would be you. I love you for all that you are, all that you were, and all that you can be. I will always love you. I'm thinking that we are going through some tough tough times, and honestly I've begun to worry for my sanity. Being with out you is torture, but I'm thinking that we will prevail. I'm thinking that I love you. I'm knowing that I love you. I'm also thinking that I'm going to have to cut this short because I have to walk home and the rain outside the library just stopped. I'm sorry love. You wanted to know what I was thinking, and in the end its not Arby's (lol) it's Foxy.

Fucking Eyebrows

First off a piece of advice, if the title of a post starts with the word fuck, it’s probably a rant. Bear with me. I have naturally bushy eyebrows. I normally don’t pluck them because… well because I’m lazy and don’t want to do it. But yesterday I noticed these dark brown hairs in-between them. I wanted to pluck them but my tweezer was MIA. So because I was running out of time I ignored them and went to school. When I got home I tore apart my whole bathroom looking for the fucking thing, and to no avail I couldn’t find it. Determined to find a solution to my predicament of hairy proportions, I found the cream hair remover. I applied it like the directions on the back of the tube say to and when I wiped it away it removed all the hairs where applied it except the ones I wanted removed. So I tried again… and again and again. The hairs were still there. So I found a different brand, one meant for course hair, by the way my problem hairs were not course they were just dark. I applied it and finally it removed them but now the skin is tender and sore to the touch. Fucking eyebrows. 

Sex

I feel like my blog has been very clean up until this point… a little too clean. Quite honestly we all have a dirty side, a sexual side, which we all seem to suppress. I don’t really know the reason behind this mass suppression of sexual thoughts. Sex is natural, and impeccable to our survival as a species. I wonder… Could the reason behind our shame in sexual activity have to do with the wide spread of Judeo-Christian beliefs? Or could it be because we know sex spawns children, and for someone like me (an unwed, unemployed, senior in high school from a lower working class family) that would be incredibly irresponsible? I don’t know. I really don’t know much on this topic, mostly because I am the sole owner of my V-card. The only reason this is on my mind is that I love my Love, and I feel like eventually, maybe sooner than later, we will make love, and it will be brilliant. Grown up in an incredibly Christian household I know the nobler thing to do is waiting until marriage. The catch is I don’t want to wait. Before you make judgments I think you should know he is not pressuring me, I honestly would never let him. Whenever it comes to that I can stand on my own two feet.  I understand the importance of protection so don’t worry. I feel ready and I only want to give this gift to him. I guess I’m de-suppressing my sexual side.

Procrastnation

Once, as I was surfing the web, I ran across a little saying that still rings incredibly true. Anytime I procrastinate it pops up into my head. It was ‘Procrastination is like masturbation, it feels really good at first but once you’ve finished you realize that you’ve just fucked yourself’.  I still procrastinate despite this obvious omen (whether I masturbate is my business). Well I’ve done it. I’ve done it big time. Now I might not graduate on time and its all procrastination’s fault. Well technically my fault. It’s so easy to do.  You get all pumped up to do something and something else catches your eye that looks better. One thing leads to another and you’ve forgotten that you had to do the original thing in the first place. Now it’s due, and I don’t have much time to finish. I can’t do it on my own, mostly because I’m not smart enough.  It’s math.  Hard math. I’ve asked my home school to help me, set me up with an afterschool tutor maybe? They claim it’s too much of an inconvenience to them, which it is an inconvenience. On the other hand I’m still their student!  They can’t just pass me off to vocational school as their problem.  I don’t know what to do but I do know this. I must graduate on time. I must show the world that I can be a competent citizen.

The empire has fallen back!

I know I've written frequently about my love but there is a part that I haven't written about. I only write about it now because I feel that it was quite important and it must be documented. There was a bit of a ...misunderstanding ( that's the right word) between his family and i. When we began dating, they all seemed to carry a friendly kind of stand-offish aura. I'm quite shy and this kind of intimidated me, because I did not know exactly what they thought of me. Now understand a bit of my background, when I say in the geeky girl in the back of the class I truly am. I'm used to an environment of backstabbing and misleading friends that aren't really friends. My level of distrust was really only natural. They are really only concerned for his wellbeing so their level of distrust was natural also. His family was honestly very nice and I tried my best to be polite. I guess I was a bit overly polite. That's why it took me aback when they openly disapproved of our relationship. I began to wonder why and the potential reasons ranged from my unique style of dress to my father's lower financial status, which I still wonder if it were a contributing factor. They forbade us to be around each other. It was a mentally exasperating part of my life, and I couldn't help but feel that it was my fault. It wasn't until about a month ago that I went to his house for the first time since the problem started. They seemed nice which was expected. I ate dinner there and I guess I was just... myself. I wasn't my total self, normally I have a mouth like a sailor and know almost every dirty joke under the sun, but I was more myself than I was before. I guess a more refined or pure version of myself. They seemed to be okay with me. That was a bit unexpected. I was preparing myself for hell fire and brimstone. We joking call his dad Darth Vader and their opposition to us the empire but as I said I think the empire is beginning to fall back. I still don't fully trust them but I'm getting there and I'm sure they feel the same. We'll get there... soon.

The fifth edition of the elder scrolls series is my favorite game. That part is obvious, but as long as I've been playing my mother has teased me about it. She games too but she plays games like the Fable series, Minecraft, and arcade games. An open world game like Skyrim just isn't really up her alley and I've come to accept that. Because of this I was quite frankly surprised when she asked me to help her play a few days ago. I guess from watching me game she's become drawn to the extensivness of the miscellaneous quests and side missions. She at first was quite frustrated with the first person point of view aspect of it in the beginning cinematic scene but she has come to prefer the first person point of view while doing archery, and fighting dragons. She's actually very good and is leveling up relatively quickly. She asks me to help her through occasionally but honestly she's just bum rushing about every quest she can find, and she's very good. Because of this I'm beginning to wonder is she going to surpass me? I really wouldn't mind but my brother, who thinks he's a master league gamer, may feel a bit... emasculated? This I would find comical to see. You see any time I'm even just a level ahead of him he has to play to beat me. It's a new form of sibling rivalry. Any other time he could care less about Skyrim. He would rather play Halo or Borderlands. So I normally don't care if his level is a bit higher than mine, but for my mother to surpass him would make him crazy.

Adjectives

Every time I’m with my love, as he holds me in is arms, he tells me things. He confesses his love to me, he tells me how much I mean to him, and he uses beautiful adjectives. Adjectives that, said in his charmingly quirk manner, make my knees wobble, my heart melt, and my mind buzz. But, if my mind is buzzing I can’t do the best job possible confessing my love to him. My use of adjectives become  … over used. They seem generic to me and whether he feels the same or not I feel for my own sanity that I must get exactly what he is down in written word (or Microsoft word to be more specific).

                He’s brilliant, in mind and in spirit, which as a matter of fact is what originally attracted me to him in the first place. He has a beautiful soul, an innocent one, not just in virginity but he seems to have been kept from all tarnishes in the world. He’s clean from all imperfections. At the same time his imperfections are what make him perfect. They are not so much imperfections to me but shiny medals of valor. He really has no need for shame yet he feels it. This makes him humble. He knows he’s not the center of the world (not including mine). He’s brave too. He’s the knight in shining armor that I never thought I could need so much. He’s the only one who I have ever felt comfortable enough to tell everything. I could never lie to him. I have never lied to him. I could lie with him; in a bed I mean, curl up beside him and sleep. He accepts me for me. He’s talented. Not many can edit film like he does. He’s determined, if he sets his mind to something he does it. He’s gentle, not once has he hurt me. Not once has he asked me to do anything I never wanted to do. He’s chivalrous, gentlemanly. He’s funny and honest. His sense of humor is one to rival that of Robin Williams. He knows how to make me feel my best. Not to mention he’s more handsome than Channing Tatum and with a smile twice as irresistible.  His eyes are a shade of sky blue with an utter deepness to them, like Lake Erie but a million times more beautiful. He’s phenomenal, and he never ceases to amaze me. He loves me even during sinus season when I’m all sniffley. He tells me I’m beautiful, although I’ll never believe him he believes himself. Also he tells me I’m intelligent. He opens doors not only tangible ones but doors to my world. He has torn down every wall I’ve spent years building up, and it didn’t even hurt. He is my Atlas, holding up my whole world, and yet simultaneously being my whole world. I would do anything for him. I truly believe he would do anything for me. I really do love him.

Exasperation

                Whoever said your senior year was easy was lying and should be ripped apart limb from limb. This is hard. I have so much late work to make up and my senior project is due Friday. I present first on Monday in front of everyone. I’m frustrated, mostly with myself. You see I procrastinate more than a prostitute gets laid on a Saturday night. In the beginning of the year they made me pick a project and a topic to write a research paper on. Thy tell you that you have all year to work on it and at the end you must present it to the whole class. No problem right? Wrong! I started it and actually got through a lot on the paper itself, but I am only about half done with the project. I would do it at home but the software I need is only at the school, and during school I am very busy working on other things and helping others on their projects that I kind of forget about mine. Not to mention the best distraction n the world is on the other side of the room. 75% of me says go see him and the logical 25% reminds me that I am very behind. I should be alright though. He is actually a great help on it. He knows all the ins and outs of Photoshop and Illustrator and I’m not as versed at it. I guess I’ll just have to haul ass on it later today. I should turn out alright.  

love and marriage

Quite honestly as a young child marriage was not a thing I thought of much. Why? The question eludes me. Maybe because every time I would act remotely out of order my brothers and father would say 'l feel bad for the man you'll marry'. My father doesn't say that anymore my older brother does on occasion. I always figured as a young child that marriage was not for me, I was too ... disobedient for marriage. My family being very 50's style, and gender roles increasingly visible, disobedient would be the right word. Then my parents made the horrid mistake of sending me through public schooling. There I learned about such things as women's lib and feminism. My views had changed. I never wanted to marry. I felt it was a trap made by men to keep women 'in their place' so to speak. My desire to be free from this male world put marriage and love even out of the picture.



But then he comes along tearing down a system that worked beautifully for 17 years, with his adorable laugh and chivalrous charm. He treated me like a human being at first which made him stand alone from the rest of the boys. Then things only got better. He is kind and gentle and is incredibly sweet. I couldn't love anyone else as much and now ,in the future of course, is marriage a possibliity? Could this trap be an more of a union? I'm very confused.