What a horrible thing it is to think that a person is ever more than just a person. The world is full of people who are constantly imagining and constantly being misimagined.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

My 365 (:

Tonight I have decided that I'm going to start my 365, a whole year of blogging everyday. .It will be interesting to say the least.
Anyway, I have just said goodbye to the world tonight, closed off my facebook, turned on my music and drifted into a world of writing. Things have become so. . wonderful these days. And I have a certain man in my life to thank for that. Let me describe him to you.
He has the most sincere soul in the world, nothing can bring him down. He's not afraid to be himself around me, he holds onto me and never lets me go but at the same time allows me to fly. He never forgets what is important to him: me. He never once looks at me with a flicker of a doubt. He always shows me why life is amazing and what I should love, he stands up for me, he kisses me like he'd never want to let me go. He is perfect.
What is the point you may ask, well I will tell you. Without him, I would be. .

Who Am I?

Who am I? This is a question I'm sure I haven't  found out yet, and maybe one day those things that make people so inspirational and insightful will happen to me. This is a question that, in fact, has troubled me for many years. I will start  at the beginning.

When I was 6 years old I moved to Riverton, UT from France. Strange at first, I knew the minimum of English and my mother had to accompany me to school, she was my light in a world full of things that didn't make sense. Because of her I managed to pass the 2nd grade and by 3rd grade my English was almost flawless, except my accent. 
In 5th grade we moved again, to Herriman, UT. Not that far but the people who had grown up knowing who I was and where I came from where gone, I had no one. My accent was still visible but it began to dim, everything did. I had to start speaking French just so I wouldn't forget it. I couldn't forget my history, that was not the plan. 
In 7th grade I met a boy. . Cody McCormick. He was 17, he was a stud, he drove a mustang. Maybe I loved him superficially, well, of course I did, it was puppy love. But then he used me and that was the first time I realized I wasn't exactly 'lovable'. I was defective, I just wasn't sure why.
In 8th grade I met Michael Ryan Rentmeister. We were friends for quite a while and I loved him for being my friend, for being with me. And how I needed that love. . My best friend, Keltsy, decided to move to East High. The month she left my cell phone rang off the hook. She hated me, she absolutely wanted to destroy me. I was fat, ugly, worthless. I was labeled and I began to fit the label. I simply didn't care anymore. Michael became more and more a piece of who I was. I needed him, I need him so deeply that I gave up who I was to have him. School became second hand, second place and worthless. I began cutting, I began losing who I thought I was. Swearing was habitual, and so were the phone calls. .One day I got a voice mail and I checked it, I had to know, it now defined who I was. This one was worse, I was know a whore, a cheapskate, a good-for-nothing-piece-of-shit and being dead would serve a greater purpose then being alive. So I tried. I remember, in a somewhat blurry way, walking down the stairs with my guitar case, grabbing the knives in the kitchen and hiding them in it. I walked back to my room took them out and traced all the cuts I had made in the past, the two on my wrist are still there. I grooved them so deeply that I almost threw up. My step-brother, Aaron, walked in and just stared. He called my mother who immediately raced me to the hospital where they prescribed my mandatory 2 day stay and my anti-depressants. The kind that force Serotonin into your brain and force the happiness into you. Fake happiness I called it. Michael and I started dating after that, he told me everything and I him. He was mine, forever and always.
In 9th grade we broke up, he lived in Odgen after all. And then I met Charlie Quintana. He was dating my best friend at the time but I still loved him, and I was happy then. And then I made the High School Basketball Team. That gave me direction and purpose, and I loved my life. I loved who I was. I was now a role model. And then one game, East High. .Keltsy, to my dismay made the team at East High. As I prepared to make a shot she whispered everything she had said on the messages into my ear. I turned around and punched her so hard she was knocked out. A whole gang of girls jumped on me, hitting me back for hitting her. The ref intervened and the game was completely cancelled. We were all suspended.
In 10th grade she moved back. She apologized and tricked me into believing that she was really sorry. I finally got Charlie, I finally got what I wanted so badly and that year was going to be fantastic. Until we broke up of course. I found who I really wanted to be inside Debate, I loved it. It released everything that I had ever felt, in a constructive way. I met my new best friend there, Erin. She made me happier, she almost forced happiness from my every pore. My teacher, he was influential to say the least. He showed us all that we had something deeper inside of us. Something we should work and strive to be, and kick ass on the way (: H made my life suddenly seem conquerable. Then I made basketball again and found my family all over again. We went to state and lost by two points, devastating and I was suddenly spiraling downwards again. And then in May. . Cameron, my best friend, killed himself. I began skipping class, and even my pills didn't work. I was cutting again, I was again a loser. I lost 30 pounds that year, I went from 160 to 130. I didn't eat, ever. And I visited Cameron's grave everyday, I talked to him even. I slowly began getting better, believing that he could hear me. 
Yes, I got better. Slowly.
And then I met Darrin, or rather began talking, to Darrin. He was kind of corky (he still is) but it was a good corky, the kind that made me happy. We ended up together and still are. Yes, we have our own problems but  things happen and somehow he stays, he stays through it all.
But I still don't know who I am? Labels like fat, slut, ugly, whore, worthless. . defined me for years. And now I'm trying to break out of those and I'm finding that so hard, so gut wrenching, so terrifying. I still cut, I still don't always eat, I still sometimes wish I would die and just leave all this behind me but..what fun would that be? 
And besides, it's taken me far to long to find this chaotic peace of mind.


i knew on the day what'd happen by night
my thoughts of you just couldn't fight
their lack of reassurance
but if i'm honest with myself
they never could

shadowed by the thought of it turning good
i made myself believe it would
if only miracles were ture then i'd
finally get my wish
i'd be with you

what would you do if it fades away
and you're grasping at the edges?
and the more you pull, the more it frays
til you're left

it's taken me this long just to find
the most chaotic peace of mind
i've worked long and hard to keep it going strong
it never could

what would you do if it fades away
and you're grasping at the edges?
and the more you pull, the more it frays
'til you're left...and they're right

you're so far away

The Night

Observationally, and perhaps hypothetically as to not hurt anyone’s feelings, this is what I find. The guy sitting behind me yelling “Die Jumping Jew,” is extremely annoying. He’s drowning out my music which is up all the way, which is pathetic.  Jumping Jew was maybe funny the first time, now. . It just annoys me. He’s so dangerously loud I want to rip out his vocal cords. And he just keeps saying it, and saying it and saying it.
                Moving on, I’m just annoyed. Why? I find this absolutely dreadful, I am now in the very middle of what I hate. This sucks. And it just keeps going, and going. And that girl, her voice makes me want to punch her in the face. Ugh, only 6 more hours. .  . Shoot me. Yet again with the Jumping Jew guy, I will hit him.  Why am I here again? I haven’t spoken a word in the past 6 hours anyway, what is the point? Can I go home? NO. Why? Because my boyfriend doesn’t listen to me and finds loopholes and ways to make me feel like crap and does his own thing anyway. Other than that. . . Don’t get me started. The wind is swinging the swing outside, it looks kind of creepy actually. Yep, really creepy. There is snow up here (: Yeah, and it’s cold, so that just pisses me off more. And he’s going to be here over night, ridiculous.
                Speaking of religion, which I wasn’t but I thought I would. I hate it, I absolutely hate it. It is so hard for me to really believe in anything. I just want to be me, why do I have to follow rules? I am the wrong person to have a boyfriend going on a mission, completely. But hey, that’s okay. I can decide those things for myself.  So I will. And I really don’t see how it’s anyone elses business. But hey, if people get upset that’s cool. And I know people say that the commandments are there to keep you safe and all that, and that’s great for people like that, but I’m not like that. I’m sorry. Buddhism, let’s see. The eightfold path, the four truths, basically put it’s be a better person, work to be a better person. I can do that. But, maybe not, because religion is wasted on me, I’ve got to much of my dad in me, too much doubt and confrontation that wants to battle everything people say. 
                You can preach to me and tell me I’m wrong, go for it. You can show me your ‘facts’, sure. You can do whatever you want and I will listen to you but I will have to politely decline. Once I’m 18 and it’s my choice I’m out of here. I’m moving to Boston, playing in the WNBA and living life without religion being so in my face. Utah Mormon’s are the worst, they are so judgmental and angry if you go against them, and then it’s just almost like “okay, I’m over it” because you can’t say anything or they will want to rip your eyes out of your face.
                Which is a shame really, I like my eyes. Now I wish I could remember Wagner’s number; that would give me something to do. He would talk to me.  Found it (: I am pro. Not really, but hey. Well, there goes that idea. Not going to work apparently, which is okay because all we do is argue about if I’m ever going to send him a cute picture. Which can get really annoying, save me. Save me, save me, save me, save me, SAVE ME. O, wonderful. Now he won’t leave me alone. I hate when people don’t leave me alone. Oh no, I just realized I ran out of crap to rant about. That’s not good. Something needs to annoy me and quick, or I’ll lose the only source of attention I am giving. Hmmm.  . . . Oh she spoke. I win, I win. Uh, okay. Well, my shoulder has a stabbing pain in it. That can’t be good.