I don't feel like writing about my life right now. Too late at night. I can't think straight. Whatevs.
Okay. So I didn't go to school today. No, I wasn't sick. I just didn't wake up. Again. Wow. I have sleeping issues. god. Nothing matters these days. I dunno what I'm talking about any more. Whatever. You can stop me at any time. No? Okay then.
I have a stupid band concert tomorrow. I really don't want to go. But it's either that or the councelor's. I choose band. My councelor is a nutjob. She's crazy. Wow. I really shouldn't be talking bad about some one who's trying to save me from this bottomless pit I've been digging myself in. She has good intentions, but I don't see how she's helping. Sure. I haven't been cutting for a while. But what else? It's only the guilt that I have a bunch of people worrying about me and pitying me that makes me even want to quit. Gawd. I sound like I'm an alchoholic or something. I guess what I do is bad too, though. Right? Or is everybody just feeding me lies? I don't see the harm in what I'm doing, really. I'm not in it for suicide. I'm really not. If I was, the cuts would be deep and on my wrists. Not small little things resembling paper cuts on my shoulder. Whatevs.
I'm sorry for creeping you out, Matt. Andi's fine with me talking about all of this stuff because she's used to it by now. But you're not. And I'm sorry for bringing it up again. But I can't help it. It's my life. Take it or leave it. Whatever. But yeah. Sorry. Sorry for being a creepy emo cutter girl. Whatevs. That's all I have to say. Buh-bye now.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Taking a step back.
I forgot to mention a big part in my childhood. So I'm skipping back to tell you.
My grandpa and I had been really close in the few months that we lived with them. We would sit on my living room floor together. Sometimes he would read to me and sometimes I would "teach him how to color". It was great. When my sisters would be taking naps or whatever, I'd be with Grandpa.
Then they decided to leave us. They moved to all the way to the big thunderstorms and snow-less winters that made up Florida. We went to visit them almost every single summer. The summers we didn't go see them, they came to see us. I don't remember much about going down to their house except for sitting on their couch listening to my grandpa read Brear Rabbit and the Tar Baby and eating "barbecue" and Grandma's famous blueberry pancakes. The memories of their visits up here, though, I remember clearly.
They would come and park their red pickup truck in the grass behind our basketball hoop. The tradition soon came that my grandma, Megan, and me would sit down at the kitchen table and color. I always admired my grandma's pictures and wished that some day I could color as good as she could. She told me that her secret was that she colored in small circles instead of lines.
Then, Megan and I would go into the living room where Grandpa would be sitting, waiting for us. We would sit next to him on the couch. My grandpa always had this bit of neck that hung off and resembled a turkey. He would always wiggle it back and forth with his hand and gobble. He occasionally let us wiggle it. Then, we'd use both hands to help him get up and off the couch. We would then bring him into our bedroom where we would sit. He would sometimes read us stories, but mostly he would tell us what it was like in Florida and what was happening with our various aunts and uncles and cousins who live down there with them. We would tell him how it's been in Illinois and tell him about our friends and other stuff that would happen.
We would then pull out the table and bring out extra chairs and eat a nice meal. We would sit ariound the table talking for a while before they would have to get up and start their long journey back to Florida. I miss those visits. My grandparents both got too old to drive up here, and my grandma was afriad of flying, so they stopped coming up. The last time they did, I was five or six years old. I miss it so much.
My grandpa and I had been really close in the few months that we lived with them. We would sit on my living room floor together. Sometimes he would read to me and sometimes I would "teach him how to color". It was great. When my sisters would be taking naps or whatever, I'd be with Grandpa.
Then they decided to leave us. They moved to all the way to the big thunderstorms and snow-less winters that made up Florida. We went to visit them almost every single summer. The summers we didn't go see them, they came to see us. I don't remember much about going down to their house except for sitting on their couch listening to my grandpa read Brear Rabbit and the Tar Baby and eating "barbecue" and Grandma's famous blueberry pancakes. The memories of their visits up here, though, I remember clearly.
They would come and park their red pickup truck in the grass behind our basketball hoop. The tradition soon came that my grandma, Megan, and me would sit down at the kitchen table and color. I always admired my grandma's pictures and wished that some day I could color as good as she could. She told me that her secret was that she colored in small circles instead of lines.
Then, Megan and I would go into the living room where Grandpa would be sitting, waiting for us. We would sit next to him on the couch. My grandpa always had this bit of neck that hung off and resembled a turkey. He would always wiggle it back and forth with his hand and gobble. He occasionally let us wiggle it. Then, we'd use both hands to help him get up and off the couch. We would then bring him into our bedroom where we would sit. He would sometimes read us stories, but mostly he would tell us what it was like in Florida and what was happening with our various aunts and uncles and cousins who live down there with them. We would tell him how it's been in Illinois and tell him about our friends and other stuff that would happen.
We would then pull out the table and bring out extra chairs and eat a nice meal. We would sit ariound the table talking for a while before they would have to get up and start their long journey back to Florida. I miss those visits. My grandparents both got too old to drive up here, and my grandma was afriad of flying, so they stopped coming up. The last time they did, I was five or six years old. I miss it so much.
Another chapter.
Before the whole "dead lion" incident happened, Megan went into preschool. No, I was not left alone. I was around two years old when she started her "schooling." And I thought it would be horrible with both of my sisters at school. But then, there was Jerry. My mom had been babysitting him for her friend for sometime now, but since he was so young, he didn't make that good of a play mate. He was a year younger than me but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that I had someone to occupy my time while my only two friends were at school.
We did everything together. We watched TV, played with his cool new Hot Wheels cars, "read" my new books, swam in my pool, and played with my two cats, Mittens and Pearl. Jerry was even the one that brought over Simba's Pride (the 2nd Lion King movie) over to our house and caused a variety to my lion play with my sisters. He was also the one that brought me into my Power Rangers obsession and we soon added "play Power Rangers" to our list of things to do. I was always the pink one, of course. We became inseparable. My least favorite time of the day was when his mom came to pick him up. I would often find us hiding in my bedroom closet hoping that he wouldn't have to go home if they couldn't find us. He was my best friend and and I was his.
I remember the first time I went to his house. It was right after he had gotten his tonsils removed. He gave me the grand tour of his house, which was rather big in comparison to mine. We sat down in his living room and played with is new castle set. I was the people inside the castle and he was the people outside of it, trying to knock it down. His mom came in and called us to come to lunch. Our lunch consisted of jello and ice cream because everything else hurt too bad for him to swallow. I was overjoyed. Jello and ice cream for lunch! I remember how he taught me "the funner way to eat jello," which. basically, was sucking it straight through the small gap in your front teeth. He was right. It was a lot funner than the ordinary way.
Looking back on our time spent together, it was a wonder that we could communicate with each other. Though his was worse than mine, we both had speech problems. I couldn't pronounce half of my consonants and he could barely talk at all. Nobody else could understand him. I became his little translator. I remember getting so frustrated with everyone because they could understand what he was saying. I now find it a miracle that I could.
Too soon, we had to be separated. I was supposed to go to preschool. On the way there, I kicked and screamed and told my mom that I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay with her at home like always. I wanted to stay with my best friend Jerry. In the end, my mom still had to go to work, but I didn't go to preschool that day or any day that year, for that matter. I was sent to a family friend's house to be babysat with Megan and Michelle. Yes, they still went to school, but they went there each day before school started so Michelle could hang out with her friend Dana and Megan could play with her friend Sara.
Before school hours, I would have to stick around the middle daughter, Gina. The age difference was unfortunate. Michelle and Dana were both the oldest children and were the same age. Then came Gina, named after her mother because the were born on the same day, who didn't share an age with anyone in the family. And finally came Sara who was the youngest, but Megan's age. So when I was four, I was being forced to play with an eight year old.
After they all left on their various buses, though, I got to spend time with two other girls Gina (the mom) babysat and a little baby boy. One of the girls, Rhiannon, was my age, the other, Kelsey, was a couple years younger and still potty training, and the boy, Max, was still just an infant. Rhiannon, Kelsey, and I would play school down in the basement and watch Dora the Explorer and Blue's Clues together upstairs. Without Jerry, the two soon became my two best friends.
Then, one day Rhiannon wasn't there. When I asked Gina where she was, she told me that she had moved to Manhattan, which was too far of a drive for the parents to bring her each day. I was never to see her again. So I was left with Kelsey and Max. It was fun helping potty train Kelsey. I remember the day when all of the stickers on her "potty chart" were filled and she was going to the bathroom on her own. She was so happy. It was also fun watching Max go from a tiny little baby to a tiny little toddler walking around the house. But I still feel sad when I think of my good friend Rhiannon.
We did everything together. We watched TV, played with his cool new Hot Wheels cars, "read" my new books, swam in my pool, and played with my two cats, Mittens and Pearl. Jerry was even the one that brought over Simba's Pride (the 2nd Lion King movie) over to our house and caused a variety to my lion play with my sisters. He was also the one that brought me into my Power Rangers obsession and we soon added "play Power Rangers" to our list of things to do. I was always the pink one, of course. We became inseparable. My least favorite time of the day was when his mom came to pick him up. I would often find us hiding in my bedroom closet hoping that he wouldn't have to go home if they couldn't find us. He was my best friend and and I was his.
I remember the first time I went to his house. It was right after he had gotten his tonsils removed. He gave me the grand tour of his house, which was rather big in comparison to mine. We sat down in his living room and played with is new castle set. I was the people inside the castle and he was the people outside of it, trying to knock it down. His mom came in and called us to come to lunch. Our lunch consisted of jello and ice cream because everything else hurt too bad for him to swallow. I was overjoyed. Jello and ice cream for lunch! I remember how he taught me "the funner way to eat jello," which. basically, was sucking it straight through the small gap in your front teeth. He was right. It was a lot funner than the ordinary way.
Looking back on our time spent together, it was a wonder that we could communicate with each other. Though his was worse than mine, we both had speech problems. I couldn't pronounce half of my consonants and he could barely talk at all. Nobody else could understand him. I became his little translator. I remember getting so frustrated with everyone because they could understand what he was saying. I now find it a miracle that I could.
Too soon, we had to be separated. I was supposed to go to preschool. On the way there, I kicked and screamed and told my mom that I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay with her at home like always. I wanted to stay with my best friend Jerry. In the end, my mom still had to go to work, but I didn't go to preschool that day or any day that year, for that matter. I was sent to a family friend's house to be babysat with Megan and Michelle. Yes, they still went to school, but they went there each day before school started so Michelle could hang out with her friend Dana and Megan could play with her friend Sara.
Before school hours, I would have to stick around the middle daughter, Gina. The age difference was unfortunate. Michelle and Dana were both the oldest children and were the same age. Then came Gina, named after her mother because the were born on the same day, who didn't share an age with anyone in the family. And finally came Sara who was the youngest, but Megan's age. So when I was four, I was being forced to play with an eight year old.
After they all left on their various buses, though, I got to spend time with two other girls Gina (the mom) babysat and a little baby boy. One of the girls, Rhiannon, was my age, the other, Kelsey, was a couple years younger and still potty training, and the boy, Max, was still just an infant. Rhiannon, Kelsey, and I would play school down in the basement and watch Dora the Explorer and Blue's Clues together upstairs. Without Jerry, the two soon became my two best friends.
Then, one day Rhiannon wasn't there. When I asked Gina where she was, she told me that she had moved to Manhattan, which was too far of a drive for the parents to bring her each day. I was never to see her again. So I was left with Kelsey and Max. It was fun helping potty train Kelsey. I remember the day when all of the stickers on her "potty chart" were filled and she was going to the bathroom on her own. She was so happy. It was also fun watching Max go from a tiny little baby to a tiny little toddler walking around the house. But I still feel sad when I think of my good friend Rhiannon.
Welcome to my life
So. Since my URL thing says "Welcome to my life," I'm going to have to show you my life, ain't I? I'll start from the begging and tell you more as time goes on.
So. November 22, 1994, I was brought into the world. I was born with two loving parents, two sisters that constantly fought over me, two sets of grandparents who adored me, an aunt and an uncle that didn't live too far away, their son (my cousin) Andy, and a bunch of other aunts and uncles and cousins who I rarely ever spent time with. Let's back it up.
My parents had just moved from Texas, where they had lived for about 2 years. This is where Megan was born and Michelle, for the most part, was raised. (She was born in Florida) When they moved to Illinois, they had nowhere to stay, so they moved in with my grandma and grandpa on my dad's side to the house where my father had grown up in. They lived there for a while, and then I was born.
One of our favorite and most frequently visited memories from when I was an infant, was one in which Michelle, who was six at the time of my birth, went up to my mom and said in her cute Texan accent "I wanna hold the baby!" Megan, who had just turned two years old, replied by saying "No! No! It's mine!" This very moment was captured on film and watched on my birthday every year. Unfortunately, the last time I would ever see this video was on my 9th birthday.
I have more memories from my days before school then anyone else in my family has. I remember only the stupid insignificant moments, but these moments are the ones that I miss. For example, The Lion King was my sister's and my favorite movie. And as children with wild imaginations, we began to play lions. Yes, like every young girl, my sisters and I still loved to play house, but playing lions is what my early years revolved upon, so many of my memories are based on my time spent all four legs on the floor, pretending to claw Megan's eyes out.
One specific memory of this, was after the second movie had come out. Michelle, being four years older than Megan and six years older than me, was always bigger than us, but it had come to the point that she couldn't get down on all fours without her butt sticking high in the air. I do believe that this was the last time she played lion with us.
Michelle, as always, was playing Kiara and Megan was playing Kovu. Michelle, being the oldest, got first dibs on which character she was to be and Megan got to pick second. I never got to pick. There were several characters I could have chosen from, but they always picked for me. I still don't know why I let them boss me around. Anyways. This particular time, I was playing Simba, Kiara's dying father. But that was only the beginning. I lay on the bottom bunk bed (my bed) pretending to die as "Kiara" awkwardly ran towards me, making a big deal about my death. But after a while, they moved on to play the rest of the game without me. Of course, I would ask them every twenty seconds when I was allowed to get up and stop being dead. Each time, they would answer the same; I was dead! Dead lions couldn't just get up and roam around! And so I waited until they got bored to join them again. It was a shame that "we" stopped playing with less than a minute to my bed time.
Too soon, our little trio of lions turned to a duo. Megan and I, the remaining lions, soon adopted the kitchen as the "lake", the living room as my "house" and the bedroom Megan and I shared as her "house". We would have constant "battles" over silly things, like being at the "lake" at the same time, teaching our "cubs" how to swim. It was fun, but our little fake battles usually ended in real fights. Fights that involved hair pulling, lost breath, and nail marks dug deep into skin. Still, five minutes later, we'd be back at the "lake" teaching our stuffed animals how to doggy paddle.
So. November 22, 1994, I was brought into the world. I was born with two loving parents, two sisters that constantly fought over me, two sets of grandparents who adored me, an aunt and an uncle that didn't live too far away, their son (my cousin) Andy, and a bunch of other aunts and uncles and cousins who I rarely ever spent time with. Let's back it up.
My parents had just moved from Texas, where they had lived for about 2 years. This is where Megan was born and Michelle, for the most part, was raised. (She was born in Florida) When they moved to Illinois, they had nowhere to stay, so they moved in with my grandma and grandpa on my dad's side to the house where my father had grown up in. They lived there for a while, and then I was born.
One of our favorite and most frequently visited memories from when I was an infant, was one in which Michelle, who was six at the time of my birth, went up to my mom and said in her cute Texan accent "I wanna hold the baby!" Megan, who had just turned two years old, replied by saying "No! No! It's mine!" This very moment was captured on film and watched on my birthday every year. Unfortunately, the last time I would ever see this video was on my 9th birthday.
I have more memories from my days before school then anyone else in my family has. I remember only the stupid insignificant moments, but these moments are the ones that I miss. For example, The Lion King was my sister's and my favorite movie. And as children with wild imaginations, we began to play lions. Yes, like every young girl, my sisters and I still loved to play house, but playing lions is what my early years revolved upon, so many of my memories are based on my time spent all four legs on the floor, pretending to claw Megan's eyes out.
One specific memory of this, was after the second movie had come out. Michelle, being four years older than Megan and six years older than me, was always bigger than us, but it had come to the point that she couldn't get down on all fours without her butt sticking high in the air. I do believe that this was the last time she played lion with us.
Michelle, as always, was playing Kiara and Megan was playing Kovu. Michelle, being the oldest, got first dibs on which character she was to be and Megan got to pick second. I never got to pick. There were several characters I could have chosen from, but they always picked for me. I still don't know why I let them boss me around. Anyways. This particular time, I was playing Simba, Kiara's dying father. But that was only the beginning. I lay on the bottom bunk bed (my bed) pretending to die as "Kiara" awkwardly ran towards me, making a big deal about my death. But after a while, they moved on to play the rest of the game without me. Of course, I would ask them every twenty seconds when I was allowed to get up and stop being dead. Each time, they would answer the same; I was dead! Dead lions couldn't just get up and roam around! And so I waited until they got bored to join them again. It was a shame that "we" stopped playing with less than a minute to my bed time.
Too soon, our little trio of lions turned to a duo. Megan and I, the remaining lions, soon adopted the kitchen as the "lake", the living room as my "house" and the bedroom Megan and I shared as her "house". We would have constant "battles" over silly things, like being at the "lake" at the same time, teaching our "cubs" how to swim. It was fun, but our little fake battles usually ended in real fights. Fights that involved hair pulling, lost breath, and nail marks dug deep into skin. Still, five minutes later, we'd be back at the "lake" teaching our stuffed animals how to doggy paddle.
Hm.
So. The police went to my dad's apartment again. I wasn't there that time, so that was fortunate. But they took all of the baby videos of my sisters and me again. And they took away the computer that had my Sims in it. So I'm out the internet and my computer game. But only when I'm at his house. At least he still has his xbox. I would die being at his house if the xbox wasn't there. And the police went up to my sister and said "Your mother had nothing to do with it" when Michelle didn't even say anything about my mom before. So obviously, it had something to do with my mother. And Michelle's boyfriend, John, got handcuffed just because they felt like handcuffing him. He didn't do anything to provoke it. They just did it. Oh well. Whatever. At least everyone's safe.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Hello Angel,
Sup. This is Qwerty. Let's get a few things straight. You do not know me. You will not judge me. If you know about this blog, you can consider yourself "special." No one is aloud to know about this blog accept those of you lucky souls that I've given permission to. If someone else finds out about it, I will know who told them. I'm not nice when it comes to punishing people. Therefore, you must never read this blog in front of anybody. I think I've made myself clear, so do not use the whole "well i didn't know" routine. You do know. So sorry. I win. Qwerty always wins. Goodbye my darlings. See you when the world swallows itself in it's own bitter despair.
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