I'm bored of this.
I'm going to make a LiveJournal.
Cheers to short attentions spans.
So he told her he was going to sneak into her room at night & cut off her head.
I love him.
Ignore whatever it is that makes this feel exciting.
If you have something amazing going for you, don't fuck it up.
I should have learned from my mistakes.
This isn't okay.
11:27AM
"...alex is the best the rest are all pests my love for her is like an ocean it goes for as long as the eye can see you dont need to tell us about the birds and the bees ;) cause she cares for me and thats all i need and now she knows i love her tee hee."
You fucking tard.
Ahaha I love you.
Who kissed you on new years?
I was grounded. I stayed home & watched Superbad. It was lovely.
Did you have a New Year's Resolution this year?
Several.
I don't think I ever really followed through on them.
Does it snow where you live?
Nope :/
Do you like hot chocolate?
Oh my gosh yes.
Have you ever been to Times Square to watch the ball drop?
Nah):
FEBRUARY:
Who was your Valentine?
Raaaachele!
Do you care if the groundhog sees its shadow or not?
I always want spring to come:)
What did you receive for Valentine's Day?
Gin. Lots of gin.
MARCH:
Are you Irish?
A quarter.
Do you like corned beef and cabbage?
It doesn't sound so appealing...
What did you do for St Patrick's Day?
Nothing, I don't think.
& I hardly wore green lol.
Are you happy when Winter is pretty much over?
Yup:) but I love Christmastime. Won't lie.
APRIL:
Do you like the rain?
Sometimes.
Did you play an April fool's joke on anyone this year?
Justin & i convinced Kelly she had herpes:)
Do you get tons of candy for Easter?
Yesyesyes.
So good.
Do you celebrate 4/20?
Nah.
Do you love the month of April?
Not really, no.
Spring break was fun though.
MAY:
What is your favorite flower?
White roses.
Finish the phrase "April showers…"
...bring may flowers.
Do you celebrate May 16th: National Piercing Day?
Never heard of it till just now.
Is May anything special to you?
School's almost over.
JUNE:
What year did/will you graduate from high school?
2010
Did you do anything fun during this month?
It was summer:)
My birthday.
Sleeping on Tommy's deck.
& some other stuff.
Have a favorite baseball team?
Nah.
JULY:
What did you do on the 4th of July?
That day fucking sucked.
Hung out at Ted's for the post-car crash get together.
Went to the golf course.
Slept at Tommy's.
& a lot of stupid shit in between.
(all worked out for the best though.)
Did you go to the fireworks?
Yeah.
They were laming & I cried through them all.
Did you blast the A/C all day?
No.
What else did you do in this month?
I started dating Jordan:)
AUGUST:
What was your favorite summer memory of '08?
All the days I just hung around with Jordan doing nothing.
Did you have a sunburn?
Nah.
Did you go to the pool a lot?
Not really.
SEPTEMBER:
Are you attending college/school?
High school.
Do you like fall better than summer?
Nononono.
What happened this month?
Just getting in the rhythm of school.
OCTOBER:
What was your Halloween costume?
I had a crown, that was it.
What is your favorite candy?
Reeses. or kitkats. Or almond joy:)
What was your favorite thing(s) about this month?
Halloween.
NOVEMBER:
Whose house do you go to for Thanksgiving?
My grandma's.
Do you love stuffing?
I do indeed:)
Anything special in this month?
Not really.
DECEMBER:
Do you celebrate Christmas?
Yeah!
Have you ever been kissed under a misletoe?
No): what the fuck.
Get anything special last year?
Nope.
What do you want this year?
CHINCHILLA.
What do you love most about December?
Christmas:)
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
-Max Ehrmann
I can see why this poem helps you.
Goddamn.
I'm throwing in the "goddamn" just because I know she hates it. I stopped saying it, out of respect for her. But you know what? I don't believe in god, & if there is one, I doubt he'd take it personally. So I'll say it all I want, & you can suck it.
GODDAMNITT.
Where was I.
Oh yeah, the stalking.
You'd think that if it's so easy to drop someone from your life, you wouldn't be stalking their myspace via someone else's account (yeah, I was mad enough to delete her from my friends...which is pretty fucking hardcore in teenage girl world) or reading her blog constantly hoping that there would be some hint that I lingered at all in her mind.
There's not.
I don't care. I don't. Really.
But I wish it wasn't that easy to forget me.
No matter how furious I am,
I wish I meant more than I do.
Like a movie or a sentence or story anything at all?
It's almost like you wish you were more like the it,
except not.
More like the reason it appeals to you in the first place is you can relate to it,
but you wish you couldn't.
Like a part of you that you didn't know was there understands it,
even if you don't completely.
It makes no sense,
but I hate that feeling.
Because that's how fucking close we were.
I hate you.
So much.
I'm done with you,
I spent so long losing respect for you,
but keeping it to myself because I would never want to hurt you.
Fuck that.
I don't want you to be part of my life anymore.
So "I just don't understand." Really. I don't understand. Because for the last three years, I've known for a fact that I'm one of the few people who does, whether she likes it or not. Oh yes, there have been those people who grab that image you project of who you want to be, as you dangle it in front of their face. The oh so "complicated" image of a girl...even though it's not. She's simpler than she tries to seem. Pulling bits & pieces of herself out of stories & movies of all these tragic characters she wants to be.
She needs to learn. Life isn't a story & if she follows through till the day she dies on the pathetic, boring, simple & lifeless path she's on, I swear to god I'll be so ashamed. She's brilliant, you see. Beautiful too, & clever & funny. But she can't think for herself, define who she is without outside help. I hate when teenage girls bitch at each other about being "fake" because in my eyes that's almost impossible. Everyone is real. But the person she makes yourself out to be is a total fraud.
Maybe this is about me not believing, because really, I'm not going to pretend I do for someone whose beliefs & way of life I have zero respect for. I'm all for religion & believing in something, if that's what makes you happy. But she doesn't use to to be happy. She uses it as a way of hiding from herself& justifying all her fuck-ups. Oh, it's "in God's hands." So it'll all be okay. Wake up call: you save yourself or remain unsaved. No one's gonna do it for you.
So she can say all she wants, try to persuade herself that I'm too confused to know what's best. Because I do know. Yeah, it might not be the easy way, but it's what's right.
& she knows it.
& I'm just waiting for her & I to talk, & her to tell me that this is all due to my loss of faith, or the faith that was never really there.
But honestly...the only thing I lost faith in was her.
Read it.
Unless you have no soul, you won't be disappointed.
THERE was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen. On Christmas morning, when he sat wedged in the top of the Boy's stocking, with a sprig of holly between his paws, the effect was charming.
There were other things in the stocking, nuts and oranges and a toy engine, and chocolate almonds and a clockwork mouse, but the Rabbit was quite the best of all. For at least two hours the Boy loved him, and then Aunts and Uncles came to dinner, and there was a great rustling of tissue paper and unwrapping of parcels, and in the excitement of looking at all the new presents the Velveteen Rabbit was forgotten.
For a long time he lived in the toy cupboard or on the nursery floor, and no one thought very much about him. He was naturally shy, and being only made of velveteen, some of the more expensive toys quite snubbed him. The mechanical toys were very superior, and looked down upon every one else; they were full of modern ideas, and pretended they were real. The model boat, who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint, caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity of referring to his rigging in technical terms. The Rabbit could not claim to be a model of anything, for he didn't know that real rabbits existed; he thought they were all stuffed with sawdust like himself, and he understood that sawdust was quite out-of-date and should never be mentioned in modern circles. Even Timothy, the jointed wooden lion, who was made by the disabled soldiers, and should have had broader views, put on airs and pretended he was connected with Government. Between them all the poor little Rabbit was made to feel himself very insignificant and commonplace, and the only person who was kind to him at all was the Skin Horse.
The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."
The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.
There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery. Sometimes she took no notice of the playthings lying about, and sometimes, for no reason whatever, she went swooping about like a great wind and hustled them away in cupboards. She called this "tidying up," and the playthings all hated it, especially the tin ones. The Rabbit didn't mind it so much, for wherever he was thrown he came down soft.
One evening, when the Boy was going to bed, he couldn't find the china dog that always slept with him. Nana was in a hurry, and it was too much trouble to hunt for china dogs at bedtime, so she simply looked about her, and seeing that the toy cupboard door stood open, she made a swoop.
"Here," she said, "take your old Bunny! He'll do to sleep with you!" And she dragged the Rabbit out by one ear, and put him into the Boy's arms.
That night, and for many nights after, the Velveteen Rabbit slept in the Boy's bed. At first he found it rather uncomfortable, for the Boy hugged him very tight, and sometimes he rolled over on him, and sometimes he pushed him so far under the pillow that the Rabbit could scarcely breathe. And he missed, too, those long moonlight hours in the nursery, when all the house was silent, and his talks with the Skin Horse. But very soon he grew to like it, for the Boy used to talk to him, and made nice tunnels for him under the bedclothes that he said were like the burrows the real rabbits lived in. And they had splendid games together, in whispers, when Nana had gone away to her supper and left the night-light burning on the mantelpiece. And when the Boy dropped off to sleep, the Rabbit would snuggle down close under his little warm chin and dream, with the Boy's hands clasped close round him all night long.
And so time went on, and the little Rabbit was very happy–so happy that he never noticed how his beautiful velveteen fur was getting shabbier and shabbier, and his tail becoming unsewn, and all the pink rubbed off his nose where the Boy had kissed him.
Spring came, and they had long days in the garden, for wherever the Boy went the Rabbit went too. He had rides in the wheelbarrow, and picnics on the grass, and lovely fairy huts built for him under the raspberry canes behind the flower border. And once, when the Boy was called away suddenly to go out to tea, the Rabbit was left out on the lawn until long after dusk, and Nana had to come and look for him with the candle because the Boy couldn't go to sleep unless he was there. He was wet through with the dew and quite earthy from diving into the burrows the Boy had made for him in the flower bed, and Nana grumbled as she rubbed him off with a corner of her apron.
"You must have your old Bunny!" she said. "Fancy all that fuss for a toy!"
The Boy sat up in bed and stretched out his hands.
"Give me my Bunny!" he said. "You mustn't say that. He isn't a toy. He's REAL!"
When the little Rabbit heard that he was happy, for he knew that what the Skin Horse had said was true at last. The nursery magic had happened to him, and he was a toy no longer. He was Real. The Boy himself had said it.
That night he was almost too happy to sleep, and so much love stirred in his little sawdust heart that it almost burst. And into his boot-button eyes, that had long ago lost their polish, there came a look of wisdom and beauty, so that even Nana noticed it next morning when she picked him up, and said, "I declare if that old Bunny hasn't got quite a knowing expression!"
That was a wonderful Summer!
Near the house where they lived there was a wood, and in the long June evenings the Boy liked to go there after tea to play. He took the Velveteen Rabbit with him, and before he wandered off to pick flowers, or play at brigands among the trees, he always made the Rabbit a little nest somewhere among the bracken, where he would be quite cosy, for he was a kind-hearted little boy and he liked Bunny to be comfortable. One evening, while the Rabbit was lying there alone, watching the ants that ran to and fro between his velvet paws in the grass, he saw two strange beings creep out of the tall bracken near him.
They were rabbits like himself, but quite furry and brand-new. They must have been very well made, for their seams didn't show at all, and they changed shape in a queer way when they moved; one minute they were long and thin and the next minute fat and bunchy, instead of always staying the same like he did. Their feet padded softly on the ground, and they crept quite close to him, twitching their noses, while the Rabbit stared hard to see which side the clockwork stuck out, for he knew that people who jump generally have something to wind them up. But he couldn't see it. They were evidently a new kind of rabbit altogether.
They stared at him, and the little Rabbit stared back. And all the time their noses twitched.
"Why don't you get up and play with us?" one of them asked.
"I don't feel like it," said the Rabbit, for he didn't want to explain that he had no clockwork.
"Ho!" said the furry rabbit. "It's as easy as anything," And he gave a big hop sideways and stood on his hind legs.
"I don't believe you can!" he said.
"I can!" said the little Rabbit. "I can jump higher than anything!" He meant when the Boy threw him, but of course he didn't want to say so.
"Can you hop on your hind legs?" asked the furry rabbit.
That was a dreadful question, for the Velveteen Rabbit had no hind legs at all! The back of him was made all in one piece, like a pincushion. He sat still in the bracken, and hoped that the other rabbits wouldn't notice.
"I don't want to!" he said again.
But the wild rabbits have very sharp eyes. And this one stretched out his neck and looked.
"He hasn't got any hind legs!" he called out. "Fancy a rabbit without any hind legs!" And he began to laugh.
"I have!" cried the little Rabbit. "I have got hind legs! I am sitting on them!"
"Then stretch them out and show me, like this!" said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance, till the little Rabbit got quite dizzy.
"I don't like dancing," he said. "I'd rather sit still!"
But all the while he was longing to dance, for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did.
The strange rabbit stopped dancing, and came quite close. He came so close this time that his long whiskers brushed the Velveteen Rabbit's ear, and then he wrinkled his nose suddenly and flattened his ears and jumped backwards.
"He doesn't smell right!" he exclaimed. "He isn't a rabbit at all! He isn't real!"
"I am Real!" said the little Rabbit. "I am Real! The Boy said so!" And he nearly began to cry.
Just then there was a sound of footsteps, and the Boy ran past near them, and with a stamp of feet and a flash of white tails the two strange rabbits disappeared.
"Come back and play with me!" called the little Rabbit. "Oh, do come back! I know I am Real!"
But there was no answer, only the little ants ran to and fro, and the bracken swayed gently where the two strangers had passed. The Velveteen Rabbit was all alone.
"Oh, dear!" he thought. "Why did they run away like that? Why couldn't they stop and talk to me?"
For a long time he lay very still, watching the bracken, and hoping that they would come back. But they never returned, and presently the sun sank lower and the little white moths fluttered out, and the Boy came and carried him home.
Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.
And then, one day, the Boy was ill.
His face grew very flushed, and he talked in his sleep, and his little body was so hot that it burned the Rabbit when he held him close. Strange people came and went in the nursery, and a light burned all night and through it all the little Velveteen Rabbit lay there, hidden from sight under the bedclothes, and he never stirred, for he was afraid that if they found him some one might take him away, and he knew that the Boy needed him.
It was a long weary time, for the Boy was too ill to play, and the little Rabbit found it rather dull with nothing to do all day long. But he snuggled down patiently, and looked forward to the time when the Boy should be well again, and they would go out in the garden amongst the flowers and the butterflies and play splendid games in the raspberry thicket like they used to. All sorts of delightful things he planned, and while the Boy lay half asleep he crept up close to the pillow and whispered them in his ear. And presently the fever turned, and the Boy got better. He was able to sit up in bed and look at picture-books, while the little Rabbit cuddled close at his side. And one day, they let him get up and dress.
It was a bright, sunny morning, and the windows stood wide open. They had carried the Boy out on to the balcony, wrapped in a shawl, and the little Rabbit lay tangled up among the bedclothes, thinking.
The Boy was going to the seaside to-morrow. Everything was arranged, and now it only remained to carry out the doctor's orders. They talked about it all, while the little Rabbit lay under the bedclothes, with just his head peeping out, and listened. The room was to be disinfected, and all the books and toys that the Boy had played with in bed must be burnt.
"Hurrah!" thought the little Rabbit. "To-morrow we shall go to the seaside!" For the boy had often talked of the seaside, and he wanted very much to see the big waves coming in, and the tiny crabs, and the sand castles.
Just then Nana caught sight of him.
"How about his old Bunny?" she asked.
"That?" said the doctor. "Why, it's a mass of scarlet fever germs!–Burn it at once. What? Nonsense! Get him a new one. He mustn't have that any more!"
And so the little Rabbit was put into a sack with the old picture-books and a lot of rubbish, and carried out to the end of the garden behind the fowl-house. That was a fine place to make a bonfire, only the gardener was too busy just then to attend to it. He had the potatoes to dig and the green peas to gather, but next morning he promised to come quite early and burn the whole lot.
That night the Boy slept in a different bedroom, and he had a new bunny to sleep with him. It was a splendid bunny, all white plush with real glass eyes, but the Boy was too excited to care very much about it. For to-morrow he was going to the seaside, and that in itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing else.
And while the Boy was asleep, dreaming of the seaside, the little Rabbit lay among the old picture-books in the corner behind the fowl-house, and he felt very lonely. The sack had been left untied, and so by wriggling a bit he was able to get his head through the opening and look out. He was shivering a little, for he had always been used to sleeping in a proper bed, and by this time his coat had worn so thin and threadbare from hugging that it was no longer any protection to him. Near by he could see the thicket of raspberry canes, growing tall and close like a tropical jungle, in whose shadow he had played with the Boy on bygone mornings. He thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden–how happy they were–and a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see them all pass before him, each more beautiful than the other, the fairy huts in the flower-bed, the quiet evenings in the wood when he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws; the wonderful day when he first knew that he was Real. He thought of the Skin Horse, so wise and gentle, and all that he had told him. Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become Real if it all ended like this? And a tear, a real tear, trickled down his little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground.
And then a strange thing happened. For where the tear had fallen a flower grew out of the ground, a mysterious flower, not at all like any that grew in the garden. It had slender green leaves the colour of emeralds, and in the centre of the leaves a blossom like a golden cup. It was so beautiful that the little Rabbit forgot to cry, and just lay there watching it. And presently the blossom opened, and out of it there stepped a fairy.
She was quite the loveliest fairy in the whole world. Her dress was of pearl and dew-drops, and there were flowers round her neck and in her hair, and her face was like the most perfect flower of all. And she came close to the little Rabbit and gathered him up in her arms and kissed him on his velveteen nose that was all damp from crying.
"Little Rabbit," she said, "don't you know who I am?"
The Rabbit looked up at her, and it seemed to him that he had seen her face before, but he couldn't think where.
"I am the nursery magic Fairy," she said. "I take care of all the playthings that the children have loved. When they are old and worn out and the children don't need them any more, then I come and take them away with me and turn them into Real."
"Wasn't I Real before?" asked the little Rabbit.
"You were Real to the Boy," the Fairy said, "because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to every one."
And she held the little Rabbit close in her arms and flew with him into the wood.
It was light now, for the moon had risen. All the forest was beautiful, and the fronds of the bracken shone like frosted silver. In the open glade between the tree-trunks the wild rabbits danced with their shadows on the velvet grass, but when they saw the Fairy they all stopped dancing and stood round in a ring to stare at her.
"I've brought you a new playfellow," the Fairy said. "You must be very kind to him and teach him all he needs to know in Rabbit-land, for he is going to live with you for ever and ever!"
And she kissed the little Rabbit again and put him down on the grass.
"Run and play, little Rabbit!" she said.
But the little Rabbit sat quite still for a moment and never moved. For when he saw all the wild rabbits dancing around him he suddenly remembered about his hind legs, and he didn't want them to see that he was made all in one piece. He did not know that when the Fairy kissed him that last time she had changed him altogether. And he might have sat there a long time, too shy to move, if just then something hadn't tickled his nose, and before he thought what he was doing he lifted his hind toe to scratch it.
And he found that he actually had hind legs! Instead of dingy velveteen he had brown fur, soft and shiny, his ears twitched by themselves, and his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass. He gave one leap and the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about the turf on them, jumping sideways and whirling round as the others did, and he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the Fairy she had gone.
He was a Real Rabbit at last, at home with the other rabbits.
Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm and sunny, the Boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that the Boy thought to himself:
"Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever!"
But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real.
Just love me. That's my only rule.
Besides that, you can do whatever you please.
As long as you love me, & I know you love me, that's all I need.
treatment or consideration of, or making a distinction in favor of or against, a person or thing based on the group, class, or category to which that person or thing belongs rather than on individual merit.
Whether you're yes or no, the dictionary doesn't lie.
It is what it is.
But I believe in love. Because I can see it, & feel it, it's accessible. It's what connects every soul in the world-everyone loves. Everyone. Love is the only thing I trust in life, the only thing I can have faith is real.
Love is my religion, it's what I believe in. & last time I checked, in this country, we were free to show off our religion in any way we wanted, it's all part of being American. We can scream from rooftops what we believe in, show it off, make it our own. It's what we're entitled. It's what makes us whole, happy.
I think since somewhere along the lines of 1776, every individual in the United States of America has been entitled to life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness. But hey, maybe I'm crazy.
But happiness is within religion. Happiness is love. I believe that to be happy, you have to be proud of what you love, be proud of yourself for loving it. Show the world just how lucky you are to have something that demands so much of you're emotion. It's beautiful. So if someone loves another, they should be able to declare it, scream it, define it, name it, confirm in, just as much as anyone else. Regardless of where that love is directed, boy, girl, chinchilla, what have you. If you love someone, you should have every right to make sure you hold onto that, forever. Just as much as anyone else.
You should be allowed to hold onto the only thing real in life.
If that right gets taken away from people...I'll really have faith in nothing at all.
"I think love is a rare thing in the world. If you think you can have it then fuck whoever tries to stop you and fuck the rules."
-A Million Little Pieces
Wow, second entry about a Taylor Swift song.
Man, I'm so lame.
"I love you & that's all I really know."
-Taylor Swift
Dear ______,
I talked to you face to face for the first time in forever last week. & I already knew I missed you. You were one of my best friends in our little threesome freshman year, & I was always so glad I knew you. You were always sweet, probably one of the only people I've ever met who was never out to get anyone, & was always willing to do what was right. We became super close within like two weeks of knowing each other, & we stayed that way for awhile. Notes every day, dealing with all the drama & our friends...it was fun though. Then shit happened, & our group broke apart. Your side of the group disappeared more & more, 'till we didn't even see you anymore. We still talked though, we had classes & so on. Then sophomore year we were really distanced but we still occasionally caught up in the classes we had.
Now this year we have no classes, & I have probably seen you like 10 times since school started (which really isn't much for our school) & we've only said more than hey once or twice. Which really just shows how things like this happen.
But when we chatted last week, I realized how much I absolutely, completely missed you, you were so important to me, you still are. Yeah, people grow apart, but I never thought we would when we go to the same school, live in the same area...it's so easy to be friends. Talking to you just reminded me how you used to be a regular part of my day, & how much I miss that. You're one of the only real girl friends I've had at this school...I wish we hadn't drifted apart.
I mean this though: whenever you need me, I'll be there. I don't care how much you're changed, or I've changed or who your friends are. Or how long it's been, or the circumstances. You'll always be my best friend, & I'll always be here for you. Unconditionally. I could never judge you, or turn on you. I sincerely love you, you're an amazing friend & incredible person.
& I mean that with all my heart.
Love, Ally.
FB Chat
11:11pm
i put all my emotions into u
u are my day dream
u are my dreams
u are my thoughts
u are my mind
my heart
my everything
11:19pm
but triple chin smile makes me think of this
Awkward.
Describes us perfectly.
Yeah, you get credit for getting it stuck in our heads.
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere
Anyplace is better
Starting from zero got nothing to lose
Maybe we'll make something
But me myself I got nothing to prove
You got a fast car
And I got a plan to get us out of here
I been working at the convenience store
Managed to save just a little bit of money
We won't have to drive too far
Just 'cross the border and into the city
You and I can both get jobs
And finally see what it means to be living
You see my old man's got a problem
He live with the bottle that's the way it is
He says his body's too old for working
I say his body's too young to look like his
My mama went off and left him
She wanted more from life than he could give
I said somebody's got to take care of him
So I quit school and that's what I did
You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so we can fly away
We gotta make a decision
We leave tonight or live and die this way
I remember we were driving driving in your car
The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
And I had a feeling that I belonged
And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
And we go cruising to entertain ourselves
You still ain't got a job
And I work in a market as a checkout girl
I know things will get better
You'll find work and I'll get promoted
We'll move out of the shelter
Buy a big house and live in the suburbs
You got a fast car
And I got a job that pays all our bills
You stay out drinking late at the bar
See more of your friends than you do of your kids
I'd always hoped for better
Thought maybe together you and me would find it
I got no plans I ain't going nowhere
So take your fast car and keep on driving
You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so you can fly away
You gotta make a decision
You leave tonight or live and die this way."
...you know how love birds are inseparable and when they are apart they get hella sad or they die thats how i feel about you
(Only he would find pictures to back up his point)
I really don't like this song. Actually, that's kinda a lie. It's a shitty song, but I am/was attatched to it. See, I sorta really liked the same person for...I'm not even gonna say how ling, a long time, & that someone was my best friend. & it really, really sucked.
Tonight I was sitting with that same someone, who I've now been dating 4ish months & looking through my "Purchased" playlist on my iPod, which I hadn't looked at in forever (last song purchased from iTunes was about a year ago, cheers to discovering limewire). & right up there, purchased in December of sophomore year was "Teardrops On My Guitar" by Taylor Swift. I almost reminiced out loud about how the only reason I'd bought this song was because the lyrics had reminded me so much of him but then decided against it because the song itself was so lame.
But I listening to it now...damn. You have no idea how lucky it's possible to feel. Or how in awe I still am that I actually got the happy ending.
Good God I'm so unbelivably cheesy.
That I want and I'm needing everything that we should be
I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about
And she's got everything that I have to live without
Drew talks to me, I laugh cause it's just so funny
That I can't even see anyone when he's with me
He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right,
I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night
He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do
Drew walks by me, can he tell that I can't breathe?
And there he goes, so perfectly,
The kind of flawless I wish I could be
She'd better hold him tight, give him all her love
Look in those beautiful eyes and know she's lucky 'cause
He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do
So I drive home alone, as I turn out the light
I'll put his picture down and maybe
Get some sleep tonight
He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar
The only one who's got enough of me to break my heart
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do"
He's the time taken up, but there's never enough
And he's all that I need to fall into..
Drew looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see."
"Proposition 4, or the Abortion Waiting Period and Parental Notification Initiative, also known to its supporters as Sarah's Law, is an initiated amendment that will appear on the November 4, 2008 ballot in California. It proposes a new amendment to the California Constitution.
The initiative would prohibit abortion for unemancipated minors until 48 hours after physician notifies minor’s parent, legal guardian or, if parental abuse has been reported, an alternative adult family member."
(http://ballotpedia.org/wiki/index.php/California_Proposition_4_(2008))
The fact that anyone actually considers this a good idea makes me so fucking mad.
Honestly, with all the stupid ideas the government has, I try to at least see both sides, even if I'm highly opposed to one or another. But this one upsets me the most because it directly involves me. Yeah, I know how incredibly selfish that sounds, but I mean more that it hits more close to home. I still think that other ideas are equally & more fucked up than this, obviously. But until two years from now, me, & a lot of the people I know could potentially be royally fucked over by this.
I'm not so up to date on political matters. Really, I try to have a good argument for what I believe in, & somewhat attempt to sound like I know my shit, but generally, I don't. I always feel like politics start fights between people. I know that it should be worth the fight, it's fighting for our future. But it's hard. My best friend has the complete opposite religious & political views than I do, & it's incredibly difficult to cope with. I love her, & want to respect what she believes in. Yet some of it is just such nonsense to me that it makes me want to shake her, & I really do not enjoy that feeling.
Back to my point, there is no way in hell I could support this.
It's not like anyone WANTS an abortion. Like oh, I'm going to go have sex with someone, & get prganant, than get an abortion for the fun of it! Right. Obviously if you're getting an abortion, you're not so thrilled about getting pregnant. & if you didn't tell your parents, there's probably a reason. So, let's make the choice more difficult & painful. Good idea.
You can't make adolescents and parents to communicate. Forcing it on them isn't going to do shit. Then the parents will know that if their kid tells them, it was probably only because a secretary at Planned Parenthood was going to be making that call within the next 48 hours. & if the nurse does it first...talk about tension. If a kid wants to let their parent in on what they're handling, I'm all for it. Having an open relationship with your parents is awesome. Point is, it should be their choice.
Also, families can be fucked up. Kids get kicked out of their houses, beaten up & worse everyday over things like this. My summer school teacher told our class a story about a girl she taught. When she was fourteen she was raped by her brother, & got pregnant. Her family was devout Christian & forced her to keep the baby, otherwise she would no longer be part of their family. Some kind of family that is. & how much do you believe that utterly scarred her. Not only was she raped, she was raped by her fucking brother. & not only was she raped by her brother, she had to give birth to his child at age forteen. & was she raped by her brother & gave birth to her child, that four year old is a constant reminder of what happened to her. How will she tell her child when she's older that her daddy is her brother? How can they live with it...it's just so messed up.
Beyond being forced out of it by your parents, what if dreading telling them makes you not get the abortion at all? You'd imagine hiding a pregnancy would be insanely difficult. Yet you hear stories of thirteen year old girls who pull it off, then dump their babies in dumpsters. It's crazy what people will do when they're scared, & too young to know what to do.
& c'mon. Adolescents have so few rights as is. How about we not take away another.
Not to mention a right of a women.
This really worries me.
MISSION STATEMENT:
To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.
VISION:
The vision is that we actually believe these things…
You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters.
We live in a difficult world, a broken world. My friend Byron is very smart - he says that life is hard for most people most of the time. We believe that everyone can relate to pain, that all of us live with questions, and all of us get stuck in moments. You need to know that you're not alone in the places you feel stuck.
We all wake to the human condition. We wake to mystery and beauty but also to tragedy and loss. Millions of people live with problems of pain. Millions of homes are filled with questions – moments and seasons and cycles that come as thieves and aim to stay. We know that pain is very real. It is our privilege to suggest that hope is real, and that help is real.
You need to know that rescue is possible, that freedom is possible, that God is still in the business of redemption. We're seeing it happen. We're seeing lives change as people get the help they need. People sitting across from a counselor for the first time. People stepping into treatment. In desperate moments, people calling a suicide hotline. We know that the first step to recovery is the hardest to take. We want to say here that it's worth it, that your life is worth fighting for, that it's possible to change.
Beyond treatment, we believe that community is essential, that people need other people, that we were never meant to do life alone.
The vision is that community and hope and help would replace secrets and silence.
The vision is people putting down guns and blades and bottles.
The vision is that we can reduce the suicide rate in America and around the world.
The vision is that we would learn what it means to love our friends, and that we would love ourselves enough to get the help we need.
The vision is better endings. The vision is the restoration of broken families and broken relationships. The vision is people finding life, finding freedom, finding love. The vision is graduation, a Super Bowl, a wedding, a child, a sunrise. The vision is people becoming incredible parents, people breaking cycles, making change.
The vision is the possibility that your best days are ahead.
The vision is the possibility that we're more loved than we'll ever know.
The vision is hope, and hope is real.
You are not alone, and this is not the end of your story.
Quick Numbers
-121 million people worldwide suffer from depression. (The World Health Organization)
-18 million of these cases are happening in the United States. (The National Institute of Mental Health)
-Between 20% and 50% of children and teens struggling with depression have a family history of this struggle and the offspring of depressed parents are more than three times as likely to suffer from depression. (U.S. Surgeon General's Survey, 1999)
-Depression often co-occurs with anxiety disorders and substance abuse, with 30 percent of teens with depression also developing a substance abuse problem. (NIMH)
-2/3 of those suffering from depression never seek treatment.
Untreated depression is the number one cause of suicide, and suicide is the third leading cause of death among teenagers. (NIMH)
About Depression
According to the World Health Organization, depression is one of the leading causes of disability, with approximately 121 million people suffering with depression worldwide. The National Institute of Mental Health states that approximately 18 million people suffer from depression in America alone. Depression does not discriminate across age, race, gender, or class. Among teenagers it is estimated that 20 percent will suffer from depression at some point by the time they reach adulthood. There are also as many as 8.3 percent of teens suffering from depression for at least a year at a time, compared to 5.3 percent of the general population.
About Addiction
The stigma associated with addiction is one of the greatest challenges to recovery. Each year only 10 percent of Americans who need alcohol and drug treatment get the help they need. Yet with treatment and support, people with addiction can lead productive lives.
About Self-Injury
While not always the case, often untreated depression and other struggles lead to unhealthy ways in which we try and deal with the hurt and pain we are feeling. We try and find anything that we can do to take away the hurt, painful feelings, or negative thoughts we are experiencing. Often the things that we turn to seem to help at first, appearing to provide some of the relief that we need so badly. But, even though they may seem like they help, often they are unhealthy themselves, eventually becoming even greater struggles like addictions such as drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, or self-injury.
Self-injury remained very much a mystery until 1996 when Princess Diana revealed that she had struggled with it. It has become much more visible in society within the last ten years. Self-injury is also termed self-mutilation, self-harm, or self-abuse. It can be defined as the deliberate, repetitive, impulsive, non-lethal harming of one’s self, including but not limited to;
1)cutting,
2)burning,
3)picking or interfering with wound healing,
4)infecting oneself,
5)punching/hitting self or objects,
6)inserting objects in to skin,
7)bruising or breaking bones, and
8)some forms of hair pulling.
While these behaviors pose serious risks, they may be symptoms of a problem that can be treated.
Experts estimate that 4% of the population struggle with self-injury. It has the same occurrence between males and females, even though in popular culture it can appear to be more prevalent among girls.
• Emptiness
• Inability to understand or express feelings
• Loneliness
• Fear
• Past Abuse
• Depression
Self-injury, like many addictions, is often a coping mechanism to deal with some manner of internal pain, many who struggle with it also struggle with other issues such as eating disorders and alcohol and drug abuse. While self-injury may be someone’s way to cope with or relieve painful or hard-to-express feelings and is generally NOT a suicide attempt, relief is always temporary, and usually only perpetuates a destructive cycle that continues the struggle. This cycle often means that those who do not get help can become more depressed and shameful, adding to the pain and need for relief, thus perpetuating the cycle.
The Dangers of Self-Injury - While self-injury may not be about attempting suicide, the damage done while harming oneself ALWAYS carries the risks of inflicting serious, and even lethal, harm to oneself regardless of whether suicide is intended or not. Also the continued cycle of addiction and self-harm, as in substance abuse and other eating disorders can have a destructive effect on one’s health both physically and mentally, and struggles worsen as time continues without treatment.
(SAFE alternatives - www.selfinjury.com)
Self-injury, like alcohol and drug abuse and eating disorders, is addictive, and thus not something that is easy to simply ‘stop’. However, while all addictions are very difficult to overcome, help and treatment are out there and available, and recovery and freedom are possible.We believe this is true whether someone’s struggles may be self injury, depression, drugs and alcohol, body image issues, sexual addiction, or other areas of brokenness.
Research shows that those who seek professional help and therapy have a very good chance of recovery, and finding relief from symptoms such as depression and anxiety as well as others. (APA, 1998)
About Suicide
The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds.
The WHO further reports that:
In the last 45 years suicide rates have increased by 60% worldwide. Suicide is now among the three leading causes of death among those aged 15-44 (male and female). Suicide attempts are up to 20 times more frequent than completed suicides.
Although suicide rates have traditionally been highest amongst elderly males, rates among young people have been increasing to such an extent that they are now the group at highest risk in a third of all countries.
Mental health disorders (particularly depression and substance abuse) are associated with more than 90% of all cases of suicide.
However, suicide results from many complex sociocultural factors and is more likely to occur during periods of socioeconomic, family and individual crisis (e.g. loss of a loved one, unemployment, sexual orientation, difficulties with developing one's identity, disassociation from one's community or other social/belief group, and honour).
The WHO also states that:
In Europe, particularly Eastern Europe, the highest suicide rates are reported for both men and women.
The Eastern Mediterranean Region and Central Asia republics have the lowest suicide rates.
Nearly 30% of all suicides worldwide occur in India and China.
Suicides globally by age are as follows: 55% are aged between 15 to 44 years and 45% are aged 45 years and over.
Youth suicide is increasing at the greatest rate.
In the US, the Center of Disease Control and Prevention reports that:
Overall, suicide is the eleventh leading cause of death for all US Americans, and is the third leading cause of death for young people 15-24 years.
Although suicide is a serious problem among the young and adults, death rates continue to be highest among older adults ages 65 years and over.
Males are four times more likely to die from suicide than are females. However, females are more likely to attempt suicide than are males.
That sounds dramatic. I'm not someone else. But for years I've been trying to twirk aspects of myself because I don't think other people will approve, or I'm worried people won't like me unless I act a certain way.
Which is absolutely ridiculous.
I'm done. At this point I'm not trying to change to be someone else, I'm trying to become the person that I was before I was before I started trying to "fix" myself.
I think it makes being happy a lot easier.
"Take off your makeup & put down the camera,
choke on the drama that makes me want to
tear up the pictures, the pages you've saved,
creating your life of trends & make believe."
-All Time Low
hate
feeling
like
this.
I
have
no
reason
to.
I
really
need
to
grow
up.
"Lost myself again & i feel unsafe."
-Sia
If you're among cows, it's not chill.
If you're supposed to get picked up at a certain time a half hour away, you best be there...& not arrive 45 min later with a bullshit stories, reeking, with your eyes bright red.
Get your shit together next time. Damn.
But:
Long conversations with people you hardly know are nice.
& finally sleeping will be amazing.
You only live once, right?
Totally irrelevant if you don't get my train of thought/day:
"With each scar there's a map that tells a story,
what a souvenir of
young love's like jumping out an airplane,
riding a tidal wave."
-Katy Perry