Awake

I had myself a very minor surgery. They prescribed me some very mild pain killers. I feel them in my face and chest. It all reminds me of how happy I am today. So happy, that the minor debauchery felt behind my eyes is nothing more than a nuisance. I’m so grateful go be alive.

You guys, I now get paid to be a mermaid. I’m not allowed to post about it until our public debut in Jan, but considering only a few of my followers know me personally, I figured this was a safe place to let some of my excitement out. Stranger: “What do you do for a living?” Me: “I’m a mother fucking mermaid, man.”

dry

I’ve been writing in my journal lately. I find it healthy, however, I find it necessary to also keep my tumblr updated. With that said, my life is one casualty after another. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration. Allow me to explain. I have yet to move back home, just stalling really. I know that when I get moved back in nothing will have changed. I’ll be put in the middle of my parents marriage. I’ll be required to do everything around the house because apparently, my sister is too sensitive to be upset at all. The lady is still in my life. My hands are dry and I want a cigarette.

“Heartache is good. Accept it joyously. Allow it, don’t repress it. The natural tendency of the mind is to repress anything that is painful. By repressing it you will destroy something that is growing. The heart is meant to be broken. It’s purpose is to melt into tears and and evaporate. When the heart has evaporated exactly in the same place where the heart was, you come to know the deeper heart.”

—

Osho

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fuck

The text I was in the process of posting just deleted somehow.  If this is any indication of how the rest of my day is going play out, I’m going back to bed.  Which is funny because I couldn’t if I wanted to considering every morning I work I’m stranded in Madison until the bus comes. I might as well go to work, at least when I’m there I get paid for being miserable. Heaven help me.

check in

I haven’t said very much, lately. I’ve been writing a lot more. Tonight I went to the carnival, threw up on one of the rides, and had the time of my life. Last night, I played volleyball then a friend rented a bicycle downtown and had me sit in the basket as we rode through the park. Everything is going to be okay. Jess and I aren’t together. Some days are great and some days hurt like hell. I’m still staying clean. I’m still in the halfway house. I’m gaining my parents trust back. I’m working. I’m smiling. I’m not giving up.

“That was the thing about secrets—you had to carry them with you forever, no matter what the cost.”

— Kass Morgan, The 100

*mistreated

Do you ever think about me?

Sometimes, I wonder if those who I made my world ever think of me. I think of them. It’s like anyone I ever thought I loved left a scar on my heart. I thought of it as somewhat of a curse at first but I’m pretty good at taking the bad and making it good or at least tolerable. I’ll try to start from the beginning. The first gift a boyfriend ever gave me was a necklace, and I was in elementary school. It had a single grain of rice inside it with my name written on it. Zack gave it to me. Anytime I see someone with extremely small handwriting, I tell them about that necklace. The first boy I kissed was called Matt. We kissed behind a couch. I was twelve. It was an older couch that folded out into a bed. I still think of him, and that night, when I come across a couch like that. Later that year, Matt’s bestfriend, Aaron, fingered me. It was the first time a boy touched me there and I hated it. He had longer hair and acne. Although it was eleven years ago, that hair cut is still popular. When I see boys with their hair styled that way, I am reminded that it is okay to say no. Dakota was the first boy to break my heart. My father was painting my room on the day he broke up with me, so I had to go cry in my sister’s room. The smell of paint reminds me that selfish boys don’t deserve my tears. Austin told me that he’d kill himself if I broke up with. I stayed with him two weeks longer than I wanted to. He’s popped into my mind during every break up I’ve expereinced. I lost my virginity when I was thirteen to a boy name Brandon. I wasn’t ready, but I didn’t want to disappoint him. John Mayer was his favorite artist. That was ten years ago, and I still won’t listen to Mayer’s music. When I was 17, Anthony convinced me to leave my boyfriend to be his girl. He broke up with me a month later. He had a golden retriver and seeing those dogs still reminds me that I should always go with my gut. Destiny was the first and only girl I ever fell in love with. She betrayed me. That was six years ago, and there’s not much that doesn’t make me think of her. I was the first girl Mitchell ever brought home to meet his family. Ever since then, anytime I meet a boyfriend’s family I am reminded how important first impressions are. I thought the relationship I had with Josh was healthy. I bought him a rosary for his birthday. After four months he took off to California with my debit card, and I haven’t seen him since. Men who wear rosaries remind me not to give my pin number out to anyone. Jeffrey broke my heart faster than anyone I’ve ever been with. He had somewhat of a receding hair line. When I see men who seem to be balding, I am reminded that sex is not the same thing as love. The most unhealthy relationship I’ve ever been in lasted two years. His name was Jess and I made him my god. He lived my life for me, and I loved it. When faced with a difficult decision, I am grateful that I am finally capable to think for myself. There are many other men I’ve crossed paths with in my twenty three years alive. Today I am grateful for the good, the bad, and the ugly. You hurt me. You made me believe my life would be nothing without you. Thank you. If it hadn’t been for all the people that mnistreated me in my life, I wouldn’t know what it means to really be loved. I’m sure I have many more hard lessons to learn but just for today, I am grateful for the scars you left beacuse they make me who I am today.

“My life is unmanageable and I’d like to share it with you.”

— David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

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