Thursday, November 5, 2009
i saw this and i thought of you
i'm gonna retreat into a box. shut everyone out. and when i come out, no one will care about me.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
rituals
i point my toes in the shower - count 3 three times
check the washer - empty empty empty
reach into the dryer - empty empty empty
fingers on my keys, feel the notches, push down hard,
make sure the metal feels real. Now i can leave.
lights off lights off lights off
check the mirror to make sure it's still me.
double take. triple take.
check the washer - empty empty empty
reach into the dryer - empty empty empty
fingers on my keys, feel the notches, push down hard,
make sure the metal feels real. Now i can leave.
lights off lights off lights off
check the mirror to make sure it's still me.
double take. triple take.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
mars
This was my second interview. The first had been a five-hour ordeal where i'd been asked strange questions about my parents, childhood friends, girlfriends, fears, regrets, and so on. They wanted detailed accounts of my favorite experiences - christmas when i was seven, the first time i made love to a woman, traveling with my father before he died. They, of course, also wanted to know about my parents' deaths, my failures, the loneliness i'd found myself in lately, and how much i drank. They had my favorite cigarettes there for me while i talked. They also offered me a drink, but i declined. It was really important to them that I had no living immediate family, no girlfriend (or boyfriend), no children - no investments whatsoever. Blood tests, vision tests, hearing tests, mental health tests, lie-detector tests, personality tests, fitness tests - i "passed" them all.
This day was my second interview. I woke to an orange glow of mid-afternoon, showered, dressed, grabbed a cigarette and headed out the door. Before leaving, i turned and looked at my barren apartment. At least if they accepted me, i wouldn't have much for them to clean out. I was probably the easiest possible candidate to desensitize. Nothing in that apartment meant anything to me. My interview was at 8 PM.
"Interview" they called it, although i had no idea what was going to happen. "interview", they called it, as if it denoted anything positive. Interview. Skin me alive.
Out the door, down the sidewalk, into my car, off to the freeway, onramp, lanes, offramp, turn, turn, park, engine off.
Up the stairs, strange odor, two doors on the left - which one was it? Choose the first, wrong choice.
The interview was not an interview. I was told i was a good candidate and i was asked to do one more test - word association.
So it began:
Red
Blue
Sea
Star
Earth
Green
Life
Death
Death
Dark
Bird
Socks.
At this they stopped. Looked at one another as if to say "Socks?"
I laugh about that answer now. Socks. That's just like me, to say something like "socks". I think about that word now a lot. I think about it as i put on my socks in the morning, as i put my shoes on over them. In fact, i think about the word "socks" as soon as i wake up. Every time i wake up. Day or night, the first thing in my mind is "socks". Those goddamn socks. Those dirty socks. Those loose, white, new, old, brown, long, short, red, thick, thin, striped, clean, audacious, unassuming, perfect, loving, enjoyable, horrid, lonely, desolate, blood-thirsty socks.
If it weren't for those socks, i wouldn't be here. i wouldn't be in this place, i wouldn't be a stooge waiting to push a button. I wouldn't wake up every morning disappointed that earth still continued to float in it's arrogant rotation. Die, already, blue planet. Socks. i have half a mind to abandon my job and let you all deal with your own problems. Preservation - why do i care? Socks.
This day was my second interview. I woke to an orange glow of mid-afternoon, showered, dressed, grabbed a cigarette and headed out the door. Before leaving, i turned and looked at my barren apartment. At least if they accepted me, i wouldn't have much for them to clean out. I was probably the easiest possible candidate to desensitize. Nothing in that apartment meant anything to me. My interview was at 8 PM.
"Interview" they called it, although i had no idea what was going to happen. "interview", they called it, as if it denoted anything positive. Interview. Skin me alive.
Out the door, down the sidewalk, into my car, off to the freeway, onramp, lanes, offramp, turn, turn, park, engine off.
Up the stairs, strange odor, two doors on the left - which one was it? Choose the first, wrong choice.
The interview was not an interview. I was told i was a good candidate and i was asked to do one more test - word association.
So it began:
Red
Blue
Sea
Star
Earth
Green
Life
Death
Death
Dark
Bird
Socks.
At this they stopped. Looked at one another as if to say "Socks?"
I laugh about that answer now. Socks. That's just like me, to say something like "socks". I think about that word now a lot. I think about it as i put on my socks in the morning, as i put my shoes on over them. In fact, i think about the word "socks" as soon as i wake up. Every time i wake up. Day or night, the first thing in my mind is "socks". Those goddamn socks. Those dirty socks. Those loose, white, new, old, brown, long, short, red, thick, thin, striped, clean, audacious, unassuming, perfect, loving, enjoyable, horrid, lonely, desolate, blood-thirsty socks.
If it weren't for those socks, i wouldn't be here. i wouldn't be in this place, i wouldn't be a stooge waiting to push a button. I wouldn't wake up every morning disappointed that earth still continued to float in it's arrogant rotation. Die, already, blue planet. Socks. i have half a mind to abandon my job and let you all deal with your own problems. Preservation - why do i care? Socks.
produce
You and I were two of a kind. Literally, we were both apples. That made it easier, i suppose, for us to be together. Especially because we just sat in this bowl all day, every day. We didn't ask to be put there, or to be put together. It just happened. But we accepted it and made the best of it, like only two apples can.
Who knows what everyone else thought? I don't really care. We had our own plans within that bowl and within the span of time before we got eaten or went bad. My personal plan was that you'd get used for a fruit salad or a pie before you ever got to see me go bad. But all of that's out of your hands you know? Things happen all the time in the vast expanse of the universe - there's no point in trying to control it.
Day in, day out. Just two apples, crowded next to each other, waxy skin touching. I never thought it was an issue that you were a Red Delicious and i was just a Gala. I never thought it'd tear us apart the way it did. I never thought the worst might ensue.
There's really not much i can say about this tragedy. Nothing except that i see you now in a different light. I can only see your stem but I know it's you, my love. I know that stem. I wouldn't dare peek anymore and discover some other awful truth. I'm content sitting here and occasionally - or obsessively - staring at your stem, remembering the better times. You're on the other side of the bowl now, perched next to some pompous pear. I would kill that pear if i could. But there's no chance of that. I'm just here, admiring you, and there's a bunch of grapes between us.
Who knows what everyone else thought? I don't really care. We had our own plans within that bowl and within the span of time before we got eaten or went bad. My personal plan was that you'd get used for a fruit salad or a pie before you ever got to see me go bad. But all of that's out of your hands you know? Things happen all the time in the vast expanse of the universe - there's no point in trying to control it.
Day in, day out. Just two apples, crowded next to each other, waxy skin touching. I never thought it was an issue that you were a Red Delicious and i was just a Gala. I never thought it'd tear us apart the way it did. I never thought the worst might ensue.
There's really not much i can say about this tragedy. Nothing except that i see you now in a different light. I can only see your stem but I know it's you, my love. I know that stem. I wouldn't dare peek anymore and discover some other awful truth. I'm content sitting here and occasionally - or obsessively - staring at your stem, remembering the better times. You're on the other side of the bowl now, perched next to some pompous pear. I would kill that pear if i could. But there's no chance of that. I'm just here, admiring you, and there's a bunch of grapes between us.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Part 2
I'm 12 years old, it's June, before school starts and I'm ready to have the surgery. I'd had another type of surgery before on a small part of my lip as a test. It was laser surgery and it was supposed to not hurt but it ended up just burning my face, so that was not an option. it left a horrible scar where the small mole used to be and i just remember a woman saying to my mom "how could you do that to her?" I know my mom felt bad about the results of that one.
As soon as we had the first consultation for the plastic surgery, i started building up this wild anger in myself. It wasn't like the anger that caused me to be mean to many people in junior high. This was the kind i never let anyone see. I just became quiet, moody, and slightly depressed. If i thought i'd hated anyone else before, i certainly knew now that i did.
The doctor was nice enough, impersonal (as is his job) about a very personal subject to me. I had people poke and squeeze my face and ask me all sorts of questions. Everyone was severely nice and professional but for some reason i still felt like they thought i was disgusting. I know they didn't though. I know for a fact they'd seen worse, but i've always believed that you can't compare your own pain to that of others. Because whether or not i'd had the birthmark or something worse, my pain and loneliness and that of others, does not conform to a rigid set of rules and remedies. It can be hell on earth to you, no matter how much worse you can be. There's no point in presenting situations that don't exist, when the one that exists currently is all you know.
Eventually the day came. I didn't eat anything for 24 hours, i braided my hair back out of my face, wore pajamas and went to the hospital in san diego. My father wouldn't talk to me on the phone before the surgery, he only talked to my mom. I remember feeling so betrayed, but i didn't realize until later that he was probably as scared as i was. I was left alone with the nurses, they dressed me in a gown, they did more poking and they drew on my face. I felt sick, so they let me visit the restroom right before. I've never been so scared in my life. I was so scared i wasn't registering anything, i did everything they said without question and really didn't think about what was happening. In the bathroom i stood looking at my reflection in the mirror and what i saw is still one of the memories i can't get out of my head. Standing there, looking at my face with black marker lines on it, I wasn't me anymore. The face i looked at was their task at hand. It was not going to be my face as soon as i walked out the door. My stomach fell to the floor and my head swam. I looked like someone had drawn half of my face as a skull. I was staring at a girl i'd never see again. This was the girl i'd lose forever, a girl i'd always loved despite what anyone said. As much as i'd experienced up to then was nothing compared to this moment. I was about to lose my identity, and for a long time after the surgery i missed who i used to be. i can't really express right now how this memory still haunts me and how many times i wished i could take it back.
I left, still void of anything but shock. i laid down, watched the needles go in, counted to 2 and was out.
When i woke, i was in a horrible state of fear mixed with the wearing off of the drugs. I couldn't open my eyes and was convinced i had to get out of that place as soon as possible. I thrashed about and had to have my mom dress me again. When we got to the friend's house we were staying at, i finally got to eat and drink - as best as i could with a numb face covered in bandages. I still remember (and love) my mom for laughing at how stupid i looked trying to eat. i remember my face feeling as lifeless as i know my stare looked. i laid on the couch for hours, not knowing what had just happened.
Over the next few months were doctor appointments, pain medications that i found i didn't really need too often, and removing stitches. The second most painful memory is when they took off the bandage and i was expecting to see beautiful skin underneath and all i saw were thick, black stitches and yellow, blue and purple skin. I started to panic, but they assured me it was normal.
At this point, i had one friend i talked to, but i still didn't tell him everything.
Once the stitches came out, i was able to babysit again. I still had to keep some protective covering on my scar because it was still healing and could open up if i wasn't careful. I also still had the pain medication that i didn't need. I ended up taking that every morning when i got to the kids' house and every afternoon when i got home. I spent a lot of time asleep that summer, there seemed to be an endless supply. It was really the only way i felt i could live with myself. What i'd come out as was not what i thought i'd be. it didn't get rid of the ugliness, that stayed inside me. it didn't get rid of the past, that was everywhere around me.
As soon as school started, my mom made me wear makeup to protect my face from the sun and cover the pink, white scar. She insisted that if you wear foundation, you have to wear eyeliner, mascara, lipstick and blush. This was the worst thing for me to accept, but i did it. My scar needed a lot of makeup on it so the rest of my face looked fake and waxy all the time, but i guess it was supposed to be better. I also had decent clothes to wear that year and my mom helped me to figure out how to do my hair. After a while, i went back to ponytails, i kept the makeup to minimum of foundation and lots of eyeliner, and i started dressing less feminine again. At this point too, because i was in school, i stopped taking the pain medications and kept it together for a little bit. it didn't keep people from asking me what happened over the summer. that was the hardest to explain.
Around this time, i had my first boyfriend, my best friend. of course, just like you do in high school, we never talked or were seen together at school. after a while, we just went back to being friends, but that even took a few years.
My friends switched from one group to another and while i missed my old friends, i didn't feel like they really understood what i was going through - they were both people who never wanted to talk about what was really going on in their minds at all. i picked friends that were more like me - a few more weirdo/misfits.
It was when i had these friends that i met my second boyfriend. who we won't go into because if you can't say anything nice, you shouldn't really talk about assholes. let's just sum it up as someone who thought they were smarter than everyone, better than everyone (including me) and someone who constantly wanted to be with someone else. but i liked him at the time.
At the same time that i had this boyfriend, i was cutting my hair super short, dressing even more like a boy, and my mother had stopped talking to me. when we did talk, it was often shouting matches where i'd beg her to just listen to me and consider my feelings, but i was often sent away to my room.
to be fair, my mom and my dad were having some serious issues. living in the imperial valley meant you were poor even if you were middle class. my mom was having issues speaking to me and my dad was having issues not taking her side each and every time. we all fought a lot and they repeatedly almost separated. they were just unhappy and i was the invisible daughter once again.
at this time i felt unwanted, ugly, and alone. i started thinking i might be a lesbian and telling my mother i was to get a reaction out of her. i started cutting and burning my legs and ankles, since my mom noticed if i did it to my arms. i cut up my thighs and let them bleed into my pants. i took any pills i could find that would make me drowsy and i took them in excess. i bled a lot in the shower and didn't care. i remember the night i took 7 pills and really didn't think i'd wake up in the morning and i really didn't care. i did some horrible things to my body and never thought twice. every time i'd get upset and had no where to put my anger, i'd do it. whatever i could do at the moment.
The next year, when things seemed to settle down a lot more with my family and my emotions, i started putting my efforts into another avenue. i became obsessed with the idea that maybe the reason i was so different inside and always felt less feminine than other girls was that I was a lesbian. i became infatuated with the idea as something like an answer or a cure - something that would finally give me a place to belong.
at this time i met a girl online. we talked every day after school even though she lived in texas and we became equally infatuated with each other. we shared ideas and personal things and she was my closest friend at the time. we talked on the phone and by webcam. it was through her that i was able to find out a bit more about what i would like to find in another person. i'm not sure what that relationship was or where it was going, but i remember it being really important to me. whatever the feelings were, i can at least say she was there for me when no one else was - and she was able to listen to my doubts about my sexuality.
later that year, in the middle of senior year my family up and moved to tehachapi, ca. where my current boyfriend had just moved from. tell me that's not funny. my mom still loves to tell that story. this was about the best experience (even though i hated it at the time) for me. i overcame a lot of my shyness and became really outgoing. i was in a new place where no one knew me or liked me and that was all the more reason to become more obnoxious and hate everyone more. in the end, i came away with no good friends, but a lot of drunk weekends and one four-year-long-loser-boyfriend. i promise this was all good.
we're rounding out the worst parts here so we'll skip ahead. i went to college, did awesome there because i'd already been divorced from friends and socials groups, got my first real job and my first apartment.
in 2006 i had the worst things happen to me. my dad would be taken from our family and the core of it would be tested - because of this i'd revert into total devout catholicism because taking care of my mom and brother and helping my mom sell her house and move to an apartment was too much for me to handle. i'd spend nights "speaking" to the lord and feeling like my future was out of my hands because i was not strong enough to make it. i'd also have someone watching me while i was nude through a crack in my windows and i'd question why people did the things they did and why men had to be so crude and disgusting at times.
and just like everything else, i'd power through it. till i got where i am now. i dont know what writing this down has done except to help me own up to everything. it's helped me pay attention to the small things i thought i wanted to get rid of. it's helped me to be honest and accept myself for who i am. it's helped me not care who finds this out about me and even though my mom knows how many times i tried to die and our house is littered with the pictures of the person i lost that day - i feel intensely proud of the lessons i was taught and was able to teach myself. for a long time i was ashamed of the photos but i think now i can completely own it and say proudly that i've been blessed with a real view of the world at a very young age and that i know how to look deeper into people than most other people do.
As soon as we had the first consultation for the plastic surgery, i started building up this wild anger in myself. It wasn't like the anger that caused me to be mean to many people in junior high. This was the kind i never let anyone see. I just became quiet, moody, and slightly depressed. If i thought i'd hated anyone else before, i certainly knew now that i did.
The doctor was nice enough, impersonal (as is his job) about a very personal subject to me. I had people poke and squeeze my face and ask me all sorts of questions. Everyone was severely nice and professional but for some reason i still felt like they thought i was disgusting. I know they didn't though. I know for a fact they'd seen worse, but i've always believed that you can't compare your own pain to that of others. Because whether or not i'd had the birthmark or something worse, my pain and loneliness and that of others, does not conform to a rigid set of rules and remedies. It can be hell on earth to you, no matter how much worse you can be. There's no point in presenting situations that don't exist, when the one that exists currently is all you know.
Eventually the day came. I didn't eat anything for 24 hours, i braided my hair back out of my face, wore pajamas and went to the hospital in san diego. My father wouldn't talk to me on the phone before the surgery, he only talked to my mom. I remember feeling so betrayed, but i didn't realize until later that he was probably as scared as i was. I was left alone with the nurses, they dressed me in a gown, they did more poking and they drew on my face. I felt sick, so they let me visit the restroom right before. I've never been so scared in my life. I was so scared i wasn't registering anything, i did everything they said without question and really didn't think about what was happening. In the bathroom i stood looking at my reflection in the mirror and what i saw is still one of the memories i can't get out of my head. Standing there, looking at my face with black marker lines on it, I wasn't me anymore. The face i looked at was their task at hand. It was not going to be my face as soon as i walked out the door. My stomach fell to the floor and my head swam. I looked like someone had drawn half of my face as a skull. I was staring at a girl i'd never see again. This was the girl i'd lose forever, a girl i'd always loved despite what anyone said. As much as i'd experienced up to then was nothing compared to this moment. I was about to lose my identity, and for a long time after the surgery i missed who i used to be. i can't really express right now how this memory still haunts me and how many times i wished i could take it back.
I left, still void of anything but shock. i laid down, watched the needles go in, counted to 2 and was out.
When i woke, i was in a horrible state of fear mixed with the wearing off of the drugs. I couldn't open my eyes and was convinced i had to get out of that place as soon as possible. I thrashed about and had to have my mom dress me again. When we got to the friend's house we were staying at, i finally got to eat and drink - as best as i could with a numb face covered in bandages. I still remember (and love) my mom for laughing at how stupid i looked trying to eat. i remember my face feeling as lifeless as i know my stare looked. i laid on the couch for hours, not knowing what had just happened.
Over the next few months were doctor appointments, pain medications that i found i didn't really need too often, and removing stitches. The second most painful memory is when they took off the bandage and i was expecting to see beautiful skin underneath and all i saw were thick, black stitches and yellow, blue and purple skin. I started to panic, but they assured me it was normal.
At this point, i had one friend i talked to, but i still didn't tell him everything.
Once the stitches came out, i was able to babysit again. I still had to keep some protective covering on my scar because it was still healing and could open up if i wasn't careful. I also still had the pain medication that i didn't need. I ended up taking that every morning when i got to the kids' house and every afternoon when i got home. I spent a lot of time asleep that summer, there seemed to be an endless supply. It was really the only way i felt i could live with myself. What i'd come out as was not what i thought i'd be. it didn't get rid of the ugliness, that stayed inside me. it didn't get rid of the past, that was everywhere around me.
As soon as school started, my mom made me wear makeup to protect my face from the sun and cover the pink, white scar. She insisted that if you wear foundation, you have to wear eyeliner, mascara, lipstick and blush. This was the worst thing for me to accept, but i did it. My scar needed a lot of makeup on it so the rest of my face looked fake and waxy all the time, but i guess it was supposed to be better. I also had decent clothes to wear that year and my mom helped me to figure out how to do my hair. After a while, i went back to ponytails, i kept the makeup to minimum of foundation and lots of eyeliner, and i started dressing less feminine again. At this point too, because i was in school, i stopped taking the pain medications and kept it together for a little bit. it didn't keep people from asking me what happened over the summer. that was the hardest to explain.
Around this time, i had my first boyfriend, my best friend. of course, just like you do in high school, we never talked or were seen together at school. after a while, we just went back to being friends, but that even took a few years.
My friends switched from one group to another and while i missed my old friends, i didn't feel like they really understood what i was going through - they were both people who never wanted to talk about what was really going on in their minds at all. i picked friends that were more like me - a few more weirdo/misfits.
It was when i had these friends that i met my second boyfriend. who we won't go into because if you can't say anything nice, you shouldn't really talk about assholes. let's just sum it up as someone who thought they were smarter than everyone, better than everyone (including me) and someone who constantly wanted to be with someone else. but i liked him at the time.
At the same time that i had this boyfriend, i was cutting my hair super short, dressing even more like a boy, and my mother had stopped talking to me. when we did talk, it was often shouting matches where i'd beg her to just listen to me and consider my feelings, but i was often sent away to my room.
to be fair, my mom and my dad were having some serious issues. living in the imperial valley meant you were poor even if you were middle class. my mom was having issues speaking to me and my dad was having issues not taking her side each and every time. we all fought a lot and they repeatedly almost separated. they were just unhappy and i was the invisible daughter once again.
at this time i felt unwanted, ugly, and alone. i started thinking i might be a lesbian and telling my mother i was to get a reaction out of her. i started cutting and burning my legs and ankles, since my mom noticed if i did it to my arms. i cut up my thighs and let them bleed into my pants. i took any pills i could find that would make me drowsy and i took them in excess. i bled a lot in the shower and didn't care. i remember the night i took 7 pills and really didn't think i'd wake up in the morning and i really didn't care. i did some horrible things to my body and never thought twice. every time i'd get upset and had no where to put my anger, i'd do it. whatever i could do at the moment.
The next year, when things seemed to settle down a lot more with my family and my emotions, i started putting my efforts into another avenue. i became obsessed with the idea that maybe the reason i was so different inside and always felt less feminine than other girls was that I was a lesbian. i became infatuated with the idea as something like an answer or a cure - something that would finally give me a place to belong.
at this time i met a girl online. we talked every day after school even though she lived in texas and we became equally infatuated with each other. we shared ideas and personal things and she was my closest friend at the time. we talked on the phone and by webcam. it was through her that i was able to find out a bit more about what i would like to find in another person. i'm not sure what that relationship was or where it was going, but i remember it being really important to me. whatever the feelings were, i can at least say she was there for me when no one else was - and she was able to listen to my doubts about my sexuality.
later that year, in the middle of senior year my family up and moved to tehachapi, ca. where my current boyfriend had just moved from. tell me that's not funny. my mom still loves to tell that story. this was about the best experience (even though i hated it at the time) for me. i overcame a lot of my shyness and became really outgoing. i was in a new place where no one knew me or liked me and that was all the more reason to become more obnoxious and hate everyone more. in the end, i came away with no good friends, but a lot of drunk weekends and one four-year-long-loser-boyfriend. i promise this was all good.
we're rounding out the worst parts here so we'll skip ahead. i went to college, did awesome there because i'd already been divorced from friends and socials groups, got my first real job and my first apartment.
in 2006 i had the worst things happen to me. my dad would be taken from our family and the core of it would be tested - because of this i'd revert into total devout catholicism because taking care of my mom and brother and helping my mom sell her house and move to an apartment was too much for me to handle. i'd spend nights "speaking" to the lord and feeling like my future was out of my hands because i was not strong enough to make it. i'd also have someone watching me while i was nude through a crack in my windows and i'd question why people did the things they did and why men had to be so crude and disgusting at times.
and just like everything else, i'd power through it. till i got where i am now. i dont know what writing this down has done except to help me own up to everything. it's helped me pay attention to the small things i thought i wanted to get rid of. it's helped me to be honest and accept myself for who i am. it's helped me not care who finds this out about me and even though my mom knows how many times i tried to die and our house is littered with the pictures of the person i lost that day - i feel intensely proud of the lessons i was taught and was able to teach myself. for a long time i was ashamed of the photos but i think now i can completely own it and say proudly that i've been blessed with a real view of the world at a very young age and that i know how to look deeper into people than most other people do.
Monday, October 12, 2009
support group
tonight is very very bleak. started out just fine.
i can handle criticism. on anything. i can even handle you telling me all the flaws i have that are probably true. i know where i fall short in some situations. (no pun intended. would that be a pun?) but i'm starting to really like those things about me. i dont care that i'm quiet, i dont care that i dont care. i dont care that i really dont like people and that i think i'm smarter than most people i meet.
i do care when people try to change me. i wont ever do that. because when i try, i still dont make it. i want to be me forever, just like this. say what you will, but you have to love everything about me or this is not gonna work, because lord knows i love everything about the people i allow into my life.
i can handle criticism. on anything. i can even handle you telling me all the flaws i have that are probably true. i know where i fall short in some situations. (no pun intended. would that be a pun?) but i'm starting to really like those things about me. i dont care that i'm quiet, i dont care that i dont care. i dont care that i really dont like people and that i think i'm smarter than most people i meet.
i do care when people try to change me. i wont ever do that. because when i try, i still dont make it. i want to be me forever, just like this. say what you will, but you have to love everything about me or this is not gonna work, because lord knows i love everything about the people i allow into my life.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Part 1 - 2nd installment
This next part is the part i often repress. It's going to be harder to tell everyone, but the more and more that i talk to people and tell secrets, the more i find out that everyone has weird sexual encounters in their past.
So here it goes. I can't remember a time when I didn't think about sex as a kid. I don't remember when i became aware of it - maybe it was when i was 6 and my next door neighbor showed me his older brother's porno mags. I remember thinking it was all real disgusting - the women spread out on the pages, hairy, blonde, and fake. I remember seeing a penis in the pages too and being very uneasy about the fact that people put those in their mouths. Maybe that's when it all started.
Or maybe it was the R rated movies i was allowed to watch. I saw people do things to each other i really couldn't understand, but i was very curious about it. Either way, it all seemed to be pretty apparent to me when i was in preschool that i had to find out.
I don't remember this kid's name, or what she looked like. But I know that for some reason we were both pretty curious. I remember being pretty bored with playing "house", and so was this girl. So we'd lock ourselves in the one-person bathroom on the playground and pretend we were man and woman, together on the floor. We never kissed, we just laid there on the floor and touched each other the way we'd seen in movies. We touched each other's hair, we touched each other's faces, and pressed our bodies together. This continued for what seemed like forever to my little head, but it was probably only a few days until she ruined everything. She invited a really dumb, fat, little boy to our secret club. He sat in there with us, and i remember hating him for intruding on our game. I didn't want anything to do with him and I didn't want her to talk to him either. She tried to make peace by sharing her candy with the both of us. I ate it, but I didn't budge an inch the whole recess and neither did they. I don't remember if we ever continued this. But i know one day i was in the bathroom too close to the end of recess and when i got out, the playground was empty and all the doors back into the school were locked. Everything was quiet, and it was the first time i'd ever felt truly abandoned and lost. I often get this feeling still to this day, only it's not so bad. That day i stole a huge red crayon from the school and gave it to my cousin later.
After preschool, i went to a private christian school for kindergarten, first, and second grade. These years were good. Despite having a teacher who isolated me from the rest of the class for some self-righteous, religious reason, i had a good time and good friends. I never noticed she was the way she was - it didn't register that this woman could hate me for no reason. I just figured i deserved it and was a bad kid who talked too much. Not that i cared.
I met my first love at this school. We'll call him Travis. I was quite smitten with him and my mom still teases me about it. I kissed him in the gym. We were best friends.
When i moved schools in second grade, i had my third best friend, Sarah. We were always together and i thought she was a really funny girl. she was sweet and i didn't do anything bad around her. Despite our friend, Simon, who would tag along and give me presents, we still had a closer bond. She was my first kiss. I kissed her quickly under a big tree in the playground and someone saw so i ran away. She just giggled about it and so did i.
Sometimes i'd be babysat. My mother had a friend who had three daughters. One in junior high, two in high school. i adored their mother, she was the sweetest lady. The youngest sister was really funny and sort of nice but often made fun of me. She put their cat in my face all the time because i was allergic and their cat hated me. The second to the youngest was (and i still think this) a stuck-up, nerdy bitch. She didn't like me much. The oldest sister was the nicest one. We'd lay out on the lawn and tan and talk about girl things. She told me lots of things about school, boys, her sisters. Needless to say, i ended up being babysat by the stuck-up bitch.
She made me so angry with the way she was constantly on the phone, wearing big t-shirts with no bra. I once even saw her boobs and remembered thinking they were ugly, and i hoped mine never be saggy like that.
She pushed my buttons so much - probably as much as i pushed hers. so i took up swearing. she'd work real hard at letting me know she thought i was piece of shit, so one day i told her to shut the fuck up. That she could leave me alone or play with me but i didn't give a fuck. She was shocked and told me she'd tell on me. I told her to. and she never did. I'm pretty sure that was the beginning of my tendency to test people to see what they'll put up with.
This continued till..probably right about now. I still do it sometimes but i'll admit it was a lot worse in junior high and high school. I was this way about having to study, having to have nice penmanship, having to be catholic, having to live in a strict home, having to have my mom decide what i'd wear and how my hair would be cut.
My mom has always been the breadwinner in the family, even though my dad has a master's degree. It's just always worked out that way. She's always been the breadwinner and i've always been a shitty kid that tested her limits. I have to touch on this lightly right now because i'm not sure if seeing that messed up my thoughts of how a relationship should be. But i know that since i was 9 i was writing my journal that i would never need a man. That i'd never let a man own me by marrying me or having sex with me. (also a bit of rejection of the catholic faith i was raised in) I decided i'd instead be a single mom, because i still wanted kids. I vowed NEVER to let a man decide who i was.
Then my dad was gone for two weeks and i saw my mom cry every day of those two weeks. I'm told he went to texas to see his family, but he never told my mom he was going. I've gotten so many stories, i really dont care who's been the victim anymore. I know now that marriage is hard and i don't hold anything against them at all. No matter how much worse and confusing it'd get when i was a teenager.
This time in my life was filled with a lot of scary emotions and thoughts and distrust. I've only seen my parents argue and yell once. And that's still something i can picture vividly. The product of these years, between ages 7 and 10 are a strange mixture of things i know i saw and things i'm pretty sure my confused mind concocted all by itself. they're all painful memories, real or not.
Then my brother was born. To avoid getting severely emotional, i'll just tell you that he's the most important person in my life and i love him to death. I'd do anything for him - considering i waited till i was ten for a brother or sister to play with. I hated being an only child because i wasn't allowed to go to other kid's houses unless my parents also went and we lived isolated in the middle of nowhere in a dirt town. So when he came along it was the best thing that ever happened to me. And still is.
However, this didn't stop me from doing what i did next.
I had two friends, twins, who looked nothing alike. They were both on their way to being bad kids though. our parents were friends so they were the kids i saw the most of outside of school. One of them shared my secret obsession with what happens between a man and woman in bed. Again, more role-playing, more touching, never kissing. always with clothes on. We'd take turns being on top, take turns being the man. I remember not really liking her still, but liking that we had a secret. This went on a two or three times, until her sister caught us. it took every thing we had to convince her it was nothing and that she shouldn't tell. She was really angry but she never told.
The girls also came to my house, and when they did they brought trouble. The one i'd spend more time with thought it wise to call up phone sex numbers on my house phone. How was i supposed to know it would result in a $500 phone bill that would be pinned all on me? they came over a few times and did it every time. once or twice i called the numbers when they were gone, but nothing i heard meant anything to me, so i stopped. When my parents found out, nothing i could say would change how they felt. they didn't want to hear my side of the story and both stopped speaking to me for weeks. My dad mentioned once that i wasn't his child. My mom was cold toward me and no one left me alone with my brother. I don't blame either of them. This is probably where i started being emotionally independent.
I've mentioned before that i was brought up in strict household. it was probably more because we didn't have tons of money but also because no one trusted me. sometimes it was "we just dont trust other people". that doesn't matter now. I constantly had pressure on me since i skipped the second half of second grade and moved to third grade to do well in school. not too bad, since it came easily most of the time. I had higher reading levels than all of the kids in first and second grade and only continued getting high test scores in school later on. I hated to study, i found homework tedious but i did it.
although i was on the straight and narrow most of the time, i constantly had the wrong group of friends. they'd always get me into trouble and i knew it. but they were also the only kids who would stick up for me when other kids picked on me. One girl tried to strangle me in the field in third grade. My tall friend ganged up on her later and the girl never bothered me again. my mom knew i was getting detention and not playing nice - i actually turned into a bit of a bully by sixth grade - but i didn't understand why i'd be friends with the other kids. A lot of hate and anger brewed at this point.
My third kiss was purely experimental, with a girl who was another one i was only allowed to play with because our parents were friends. i hated this girl so much, but convinced her we should see what it's like. it sucked.
in 8th grade i fell head over heels for my now best friend. We became really close friends then, and have remained so over the years, despite how many years have gone between seeing each other. he was there for me when a lot of people weren't. he knows more about me than most of my friends do. he means a lot to me and i wouldn't give up what we have for anything. we did pledge, once, when we were 13 that if we were 35 and single, we'd get married. which we might have to push back to 40 at this rate.
That summer, between 8th grade and 9th grade, i got my surgery. what was to ensue were the loneliest years of my life. At the time i was babysitting two rude little kids who had nothing but questions. It was a strange episode that i still feel can't be more than something i dreamed up.
So here it goes. I can't remember a time when I didn't think about sex as a kid. I don't remember when i became aware of it - maybe it was when i was 6 and my next door neighbor showed me his older brother's porno mags. I remember thinking it was all real disgusting - the women spread out on the pages, hairy, blonde, and fake. I remember seeing a penis in the pages too and being very uneasy about the fact that people put those in their mouths. Maybe that's when it all started.
Or maybe it was the R rated movies i was allowed to watch. I saw people do things to each other i really couldn't understand, but i was very curious about it. Either way, it all seemed to be pretty apparent to me when i was in preschool that i had to find out.
I don't remember this kid's name, or what she looked like. But I know that for some reason we were both pretty curious. I remember being pretty bored with playing "house", and so was this girl. So we'd lock ourselves in the one-person bathroom on the playground and pretend we were man and woman, together on the floor. We never kissed, we just laid there on the floor and touched each other the way we'd seen in movies. We touched each other's hair, we touched each other's faces, and pressed our bodies together. This continued for what seemed like forever to my little head, but it was probably only a few days until she ruined everything. She invited a really dumb, fat, little boy to our secret club. He sat in there with us, and i remember hating him for intruding on our game. I didn't want anything to do with him and I didn't want her to talk to him either. She tried to make peace by sharing her candy with the both of us. I ate it, but I didn't budge an inch the whole recess and neither did they. I don't remember if we ever continued this. But i know one day i was in the bathroom too close to the end of recess and when i got out, the playground was empty and all the doors back into the school were locked. Everything was quiet, and it was the first time i'd ever felt truly abandoned and lost. I often get this feeling still to this day, only it's not so bad. That day i stole a huge red crayon from the school and gave it to my cousin later.
After preschool, i went to a private christian school for kindergarten, first, and second grade. These years were good. Despite having a teacher who isolated me from the rest of the class for some self-righteous, religious reason, i had a good time and good friends. I never noticed she was the way she was - it didn't register that this woman could hate me for no reason. I just figured i deserved it and was a bad kid who talked too much. Not that i cared.
I met my first love at this school. We'll call him Travis. I was quite smitten with him and my mom still teases me about it. I kissed him in the gym. We were best friends.
When i moved schools in second grade, i had my third best friend, Sarah. We were always together and i thought she was a really funny girl. she was sweet and i didn't do anything bad around her. Despite our friend, Simon, who would tag along and give me presents, we still had a closer bond. She was my first kiss. I kissed her quickly under a big tree in the playground and someone saw so i ran away. She just giggled about it and so did i.
Sometimes i'd be babysat. My mother had a friend who had three daughters. One in junior high, two in high school. i adored their mother, she was the sweetest lady. The youngest sister was really funny and sort of nice but often made fun of me. She put their cat in my face all the time because i was allergic and their cat hated me. The second to the youngest was (and i still think this) a stuck-up, nerdy bitch. She didn't like me much. The oldest sister was the nicest one. We'd lay out on the lawn and tan and talk about girl things. She told me lots of things about school, boys, her sisters. Needless to say, i ended up being babysat by the stuck-up bitch.
She made me so angry with the way she was constantly on the phone, wearing big t-shirts with no bra. I once even saw her boobs and remembered thinking they were ugly, and i hoped mine never be saggy like that.
She pushed my buttons so much - probably as much as i pushed hers. so i took up swearing. she'd work real hard at letting me know she thought i was piece of shit, so one day i told her to shut the fuck up. That she could leave me alone or play with me but i didn't give a fuck. She was shocked and told me she'd tell on me. I told her to. and she never did. I'm pretty sure that was the beginning of my tendency to test people to see what they'll put up with.
This continued till..probably right about now. I still do it sometimes but i'll admit it was a lot worse in junior high and high school. I was this way about having to study, having to have nice penmanship, having to be catholic, having to live in a strict home, having to have my mom decide what i'd wear and how my hair would be cut.
My mom has always been the breadwinner in the family, even though my dad has a master's degree. It's just always worked out that way. She's always been the breadwinner and i've always been a shitty kid that tested her limits. I have to touch on this lightly right now because i'm not sure if seeing that messed up my thoughts of how a relationship should be. But i know that since i was 9 i was writing my journal that i would never need a man. That i'd never let a man own me by marrying me or having sex with me. (also a bit of rejection of the catholic faith i was raised in) I decided i'd instead be a single mom, because i still wanted kids. I vowed NEVER to let a man decide who i was.
Then my dad was gone for two weeks and i saw my mom cry every day of those two weeks. I'm told he went to texas to see his family, but he never told my mom he was going. I've gotten so many stories, i really dont care who's been the victim anymore. I know now that marriage is hard and i don't hold anything against them at all. No matter how much worse and confusing it'd get when i was a teenager.
This time in my life was filled with a lot of scary emotions and thoughts and distrust. I've only seen my parents argue and yell once. And that's still something i can picture vividly. The product of these years, between ages 7 and 10 are a strange mixture of things i know i saw and things i'm pretty sure my confused mind concocted all by itself. they're all painful memories, real or not.
Then my brother was born. To avoid getting severely emotional, i'll just tell you that he's the most important person in my life and i love him to death. I'd do anything for him - considering i waited till i was ten for a brother or sister to play with. I hated being an only child because i wasn't allowed to go to other kid's houses unless my parents also went and we lived isolated in the middle of nowhere in a dirt town. So when he came along it was the best thing that ever happened to me. And still is.
However, this didn't stop me from doing what i did next.
I had two friends, twins, who looked nothing alike. They were both on their way to being bad kids though. our parents were friends so they were the kids i saw the most of outside of school. One of them shared my secret obsession with what happens between a man and woman in bed. Again, more role-playing, more touching, never kissing. always with clothes on. We'd take turns being on top, take turns being the man. I remember not really liking her still, but liking that we had a secret. This went on a two or three times, until her sister caught us. it took every thing we had to convince her it was nothing and that she shouldn't tell. She was really angry but she never told.
The girls also came to my house, and when they did they brought trouble. The one i'd spend more time with thought it wise to call up phone sex numbers on my house phone. How was i supposed to know it would result in a $500 phone bill that would be pinned all on me? they came over a few times and did it every time. once or twice i called the numbers when they were gone, but nothing i heard meant anything to me, so i stopped. When my parents found out, nothing i could say would change how they felt. they didn't want to hear my side of the story and both stopped speaking to me for weeks. My dad mentioned once that i wasn't his child. My mom was cold toward me and no one left me alone with my brother. I don't blame either of them. This is probably where i started being emotionally independent.
I've mentioned before that i was brought up in strict household. it was probably more because we didn't have tons of money but also because no one trusted me. sometimes it was "we just dont trust other people". that doesn't matter now. I constantly had pressure on me since i skipped the second half of second grade and moved to third grade to do well in school. not too bad, since it came easily most of the time. I had higher reading levels than all of the kids in first and second grade and only continued getting high test scores in school later on. I hated to study, i found homework tedious but i did it.
although i was on the straight and narrow most of the time, i constantly had the wrong group of friends. they'd always get me into trouble and i knew it. but they were also the only kids who would stick up for me when other kids picked on me. One girl tried to strangle me in the field in third grade. My tall friend ganged up on her later and the girl never bothered me again. my mom knew i was getting detention and not playing nice - i actually turned into a bit of a bully by sixth grade - but i didn't understand why i'd be friends with the other kids. A lot of hate and anger brewed at this point.
My third kiss was purely experimental, with a girl who was another one i was only allowed to play with because our parents were friends. i hated this girl so much, but convinced her we should see what it's like. it sucked.
in 8th grade i fell head over heels for my now best friend. We became really close friends then, and have remained so over the years, despite how many years have gone between seeing each other. he was there for me when a lot of people weren't. he knows more about me than most of my friends do. he means a lot to me and i wouldn't give up what we have for anything. we did pledge, once, when we were 13 that if we were 35 and single, we'd get married. which we might have to push back to 40 at this rate.
That summer, between 8th grade and 9th grade, i got my surgery. what was to ensue were the loneliest years of my life. At the time i was babysitting two rude little kids who had nothing but questions. It was a strange episode that i still feel can't be more than something i dreamed up.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
part 1 - feel free to laugh
at the time of writing this I'm 22. I'll be 23 in 4 months. I'm a control freak, i'm cynical, but somehow still optimistic. I'm a pretty friendly person, i think. I'm also an introvert. I like to drink. I like to smoke. But i'm such a control freak that i never let it get out of hand. Hence, the reason i don't smoke weed. I promise you though, I'm really not boring.
My life has taken some wild turns over the past three years. The newest one being my recent break up and move to LA. Which wasn't earth-shattering at all - more like eye-opening and refreshing. Although i'm still confused about many things, they're pretty inconsequential now that i feel comfortable being myself. Life has gotten really pleasant and I'm enjoying being young, finally. It's the first time in my life that i'm happy with my appearance, I'm not on a diet, I'm ok with not caring about what i don't care about, and i feel like i'm finally on the right path.
All that being said, that's really not the half of my life at all. You could know all that and still not know me. I know all that and I still don't know me. There's a lot of things i've pushed out of my mind and a lot of things I won't even tell my closest friends now. But I'm on a mission to change that. in order to better accept myself, to let go of the bad things i've held on to for so long, and to share with whoever wants to know, i'm writing this down. So we'll start at the beginning.
I was born january 14th, 1987 in fort hood texas. My parents met and married while in the army. My mom was a medic and my dad was in communications. My dad was 23 and my mom was 21. I got a lot of love as a baby and a child. I didn't know we weren't rich, but it really felt like it as a kid. My mom would later become a nurse and my dad would become a carpenter, social worker, and artist.
Now, the next part isn't the worst part but it's my least favorite to tell people. Only because i don't know how to put it - it never quite comes out right. Soon after i was born, it became apparent that i had a - i just hate trying to explain it - large, dark birthmark on my left cheek. It only got darker as i got older and was really placed in a bad spot - very noticeable, in the shape of an oval, as wide as a quarter and a bit longer. It was hairy, it was black, and it was the cause of much pain. mind you, i'm not looking for sympathy here.
That aside, we can now truly begin.
children can be such dicks.
keep in mind i love children. so as not to evoke any unnecessary emotions here, i'll move on.
adults can be such dicks.
There were children who didn't want to play with me, there were adults who gawked. At first i didn't understand, but i eventually had to grow up pretty quickly. By 2nd grade i had a pretty good handle on what the situation was. People were assholes anywhere you went. but there were also really good people. inner beauty is very important, and sometimes you wont' find it at first. Two big rules.
children made nicknames for me in school. I'll never forget one kid who made the greatest nickname ever : "spot". I lived with that for about two years from 4th to 6th grade. I also was a pretty hairy kid so those nicknames were also fun. I had kids ask me if i painted it on, i had kids try and touch my face.
These years were pretty torturous and i ended up gaining a lot of feelings of inadequacy that were really strong till about college. but they still pop up every now and then. I remember feeling ugly and disgusting and not even like a girl. I felt like some half-girl, half-something awful. Even the ugly girls at school were prettier than me. I remember looking at them and wondering why they always seemed so perfect. Why they had the pretty hair and the nice clothes and i was still not even sure how to dress myself.
but all that wasn't the end of the world because i always had at least one really good friend. Those friends were (and still are) very good people.
I had one friend in particular, in 1st grade who was my absolute best friend. The sort that you still think about now. I get a lot of strength thinking about how many times she stood up for me when i was just going to ignore what was happening. she stood up for me against other kids and even adults from time to time. Even when i had a teacher who purposely isolated me from the rest of the class. She was a great kid, if i could find her (I've tried) i'd have a lot to tell her.
I also had another friend in 2nd grade who made sure to tell me it was all because i'd been kissed by an angel. that was sweet. she still kept it up until high school. but i can't say i wasn't completely cynical about that..even then.
My cousin went to my school for a year in 5th grade. Of course, she was beautiful. Of course, the boy i was SO in love with liked her better. I will never forget this. and dont' judge me. But one day he fell and all of the skin on the right side of his face came off. And then i was his only friend. and we were the same. and it was my turn to be the one fighting for the person i love. And there's still a friendship between us.
throughout these years - between birth and maybe 5th grade, my parents sought many ways to soothe my pain. My mother would tell me every night before bed that someday my face would be the way i wanted, my birthmark would be gone, and we wouldn't even remember it. (half true). We sought medical solutions, but we had to wait until they were sure my face had stopped forming to prevent any sort of problems.
so we tried the make-up. the make-up you can buy from the television. it was supposed to cover up any sort of blemish. i dont think i have to tell you how that went. i think that was the first time (in 4th grade) that i ever felt truly furious. I remember feeling so out of control. i remember feeling also that my skin was a horrible color because we couldn't match it. i remember feeling like my life would never be fixed. it was a blind anger, i couldn't direct it anyone - not my mom, who tried so hard to make things right, not the people on the tv who'd sold it to us - maybe just myself.
Eventually I had the surgery. June 23rd, 1999. right before high school. but we'll catch up to the repercussions of that soon. There's still a lot more weird shit before that.
My life has taken some wild turns over the past three years. The newest one being my recent break up and move to LA. Which wasn't earth-shattering at all - more like eye-opening and refreshing. Although i'm still confused about many things, they're pretty inconsequential now that i feel comfortable being myself. Life has gotten really pleasant and I'm enjoying being young, finally. It's the first time in my life that i'm happy with my appearance, I'm not on a diet, I'm ok with not caring about what i don't care about, and i feel like i'm finally on the right path.
All that being said, that's really not the half of my life at all. You could know all that and still not know me. I know all that and I still don't know me. There's a lot of things i've pushed out of my mind and a lot of things I won't even tell my closest friends now. But I'm on a mission to change that. in order to better accept myself, to let go of the bad things i've held on to for so long, and to share with whoever wants to know, i'm writing this down. So we'll start at the beginning.
I was born january 14th, 1987 in fort hood texas. My parents met and married while in the army. My mom was a medic and my dad was in communications. My dad was 23 and my mom was 21. I got a lot of love as a baby and a child. I didn't know we weren't rich, but it really felt like it as a kid. My mom would later become a nurse and my dad would become a carpenter, social worker, and artist.
Now, the next part isn't the worst part but it's my least favorite to tell people. Only because i don't know how to put it - it never quite comes out right. Soon after i was born, it became apparent that i had a - i just hate trying to explain it - large, dark birthmark on my left cheek. It only got darker as i got older and was really placed in a bad spot - very noticeable, in the shape of an oval, as wide as a quarter and a bit longer. It was hairy, it was black, and it was the cause of much pain. mind you, i'm not looking for sympathy here.
That aside, we can now truly begin.
children can be such dicks.
keep in mind i love children. so as not to evoke any unnecessary emotions here, i'll move on.
adults can be such dicks.
There were children who didn't want to play with me, there were adults who gawked. At first i didn't understand, but i eventually had to grow up pretty quickly. By 2nd grade i had a pretty good handle on what the situation was. People were assholes anywhere you went. but there were also really good people. inner beauty is very important, and sometimes you wont' find it at first. Two big rules.
children made nicknames for me in school. I'll never forget one kid who made the greatest nickname ever : "spot". I lived with that for about two years from 4th to 6th grade. I also was a pretty hairy kid so those nicknames were also fun. I had kids ask me if i painted it on, i had kids try and touch my face.
These years were pretty torturous and i ended up gaining a lot of feelings of inadequacy that were really strong till about college. but they still pop up every now and then. I remember feeling ugly and disgusting and not even like a girl. I felt like some half-girl, half-something awful. Even the ugly girls at school were prettier than me. I remember looking at them and wondering why they always seemed so perfect. Why they had the pretty hair and the nice clothes and i was still not even sure how to dress myself.
but all that wasn't the end of the world because i always had at least one really good friend. Those friends were (and still are) very good people.
I had one friend in particular, in 1st grade who was my absolute best friend. The sort that you still think about now. I get a lot of strength thinking about how many times she stood up for me when i was just going to ignore what was happening. she stood up for me against other kids and even adults from time to time. Even when i had a teacher who purposely isolated me from the rest of the class. She was a great kid, if i could find her (I've tried) i'd have a lot to tell her.
I also had another friend in 2nd grade who made sure to tell me it was all because i'd been kissed by an angel. that was sweet. she still kept it up until high school. but i can't say i wasn't completely cynical about that..even then.
My cousin went to my school for a year in 5th grade. Of course, she was beautiful. Of course, the boy i was SO in love with liked her better. I will never forget this. and dont' judge me. But one day he fell and all of the skin on the right side of his face came off. And then i was his only friend. and we were the same. and it was my turn to be the one fighting for the person i love. And there's still a friendship between us.
throughout these years - between birth and maybe 5th grade, my parents sought many ways to soothe my pain. My mother would tell me every night before bed that someday my face would be the way i wanted, my birthmark would be gone, and we wouldn't even remember it. (half true). We sought medical solutions, but we had to wait until they were sure my face had stopped forming to prevent any sort of problems.
so we tried the make-up. the make-up you can buy from the television. it was supposed to cover up any sort of blemish. i dont think i have to tell you how that went. i think that was the first time (in 4th grade) that i ever felt truly furious. I remember feeling so out of control. i remember feeling also that my skin was a horrible color because we couldn't match it. i remember feeling like my life would never be fixed. it was a blind anger, i couldn't direct it anyone - not my mom, who tried so hard to make things right, not the people on the tv who'd sold it to us - maybe just myself.
Eventually I had the surgery. June 23rd, 1999. right before high school. but we'll catch up to the repercussions of that soon. There's still a lot more weird shit before that.
thoughts
sometimes i should put them here rather than saying them.
Instead of feeling like i've purposefully detached myself to protect myself, i feel like i'm naturally just not on the same wavelength anymore. which is good, but i'm wondering if i'll ever be brave enough to let myself really feel for someone again. right now it sounds like the last thing i want to do ever.
i don't like being with someone i know i love, but at the same time feeling like i've forgotten how to. for the first time in my life i think i'm actually being very patient with myself and the world in general. i think i'm more secure with myself than ever before and i definitely feel more confident. i feel stronger and like i'm who i was always supposed to be.
we'll see though. mostly i felt like i should just note right now that spending time with the person i gave my whole heart to just makes me feel like an asshole, because now I'M the one who's unreachable. oh well right?
Instead of feeling like i've purposefully detached myself to protect myself, i feel like i'm naturally just not on the same wavelength anymore. which is good, but i'm wondering if i'll ever be brave enough to let myself really feel for someone again. right now it sounds like the last thing i want to do ever.
i don't like being with someone i know i love, but at the same time feeling like i've forgotten how to. for the first time in my life i think i'm actually being very patient with myself and the world in general. i think i'm more secure with myself than ever before and i definitely feel more confident. i feel stronger and like i'm who i was always supposed to be.
we'll see though. mostly i felt like i should just note right now that spending time with the person i gave my whole heart to just makes me feel like an asshole, because now I'M the one who's unreachable. oh well right?
Saturday, September 26, 2009
news
i haven't been writing much because i've been really busy packing, moving, settling in, working, going out, drinking, and seeing lots of friends.
i've also been avoiding writing because of the major changes my life has undergone recently.
but i'm going to start working on a long, very personal project through here. i won't explain it now but i'm excited about starting it.
next time you see me, i'll be posting the first installment.
i've also been avoiding writing because of the major changes my life has undergone recently.
but i'm going to start working on a long, very personal project through here. i won't explain it now but i'm excited about starting it.
next time you see me, i'll be posting the first installment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
