It was just a thought.

The other night really got me thinking about life with Andy growing up. All these memories I had suppressed for years just...came up. No actual complete memories, just pieces of them. Like, hiding in the shower with Autumn when he would get mad and storm around the house with an object to hit us with. Or putting padding on under our clothes so it wouldn't hurt as badly. The look of terror on Autumn's face when he broke the wooden spoon on her. And when he was holding only splinters in his hand and Autumn was sure it was over, he went downstairs and got a metal spatula and continued while I cried and Autumn screamed. We were all alone with him while my mom was at work. Life was like walking in a mine field. The smallest movement would set him off and all hell would let loose. I wonder why he never hit me as much as Autumn. He didn't beat me. Not like he beat Autumn. Looking at her now, I understand why she is the way she is. He beat all the joy out of her. I don't remember the point in time when I saw her smile-her real smile-vanish forever.

Every song reminds me of him, but the ones that really kick me in the stomach are the following:

So, I'm at the point where I have to decide to love or let go. I don't knowhow to let go but loving is killing me. I need a savior. Save me from my brain. From my heart. From myself. God, please take me away. Just take me far away where no one can find me. Where I can't find me. You're the only one who loves me. I need to be with You. I need to be away. I can't do this anymore. I really can't. Please. Please. I'm begging you to take me. Just take me so far away. There isn't a place in this world far enough away for me. I need to be so far away that my thoughts can't find me. I can't do this anymore. I hurt so much, God. I hurt. My heart hurts so much. I can't hurt like this anymore. I want to be done. Done with it all. There's too much hurt in my heart. Nothing is even worth this much pain. I want to fall deeply asleep and never ever wake up. To not exist anymore...that's all I want right now. I'm through with praying and asking for him back. I don't care anymore. At this point, I just don't want to hurt anymore. So, please, God, take me. Take me so I don't have to be me. Take me so I won't hurt. I hurt so badly. I need you to take me. You're the only one who loves me. I need to be loved. I need to be loved. I need to be loved. I need to be loved. I need to be loved. I need to be loved. I need to be loved. I need to be loved. Love me. Love me. Love me. Take me. Please take me. Please take me. Please. Please. Please. Take me. I want to be done hurting this much. Don't you care? Don't you care how much I hurt? Throw me away. Please just dispose of me. I'm not doing any good for anybody. I've been reduced to a mess of tears and pain. I hurt all the time. I want to be done. Nothing matters to me. Nothing. I don't want anything. There is nothing I want except to just not be anymore. I don't want to exist. Get rid of me. I'm pointless. Take me away. I hurt so much. I hurt so much. Take me away. Please, God. Take me away. Take me away. Take me away.

Why did he have to go ruin everything? It was all so perfect. Now it's gone. It's ruined. Even though what we have now is good, we will never have what we had back. And it's hard for me not to be angry with Gavin and with God. Really hard. It's the dramatic irony that really kicks my ass. The way that I was so ignorant and naive, caught up in love and pure bliss to see what was going to happen. Gavin drove over here all the while thinking of what he was going to say when he broke up with me. God was looking down, seeing me crying on the bed because I just wanted Gavin's mom to like me. God saw everything that was happening, that was about to happen, and worst of all, He saw my heart break yet again and didn't stop Gavin from breaking it. It's hard to forgive. Mostly to forgive God. I'm trying really hard not to be angry with Him, but how can I? He let the bottom of my world just fall through. He pulled the rug out from beneath my feet. He foresaw the pain and heartache I would go through for who knows how long, and just let it all happen. He didn't step in and protect me from it all like the gallant knight I'd been picturing Him as. Instead, He just watched idly by from the sidelines. He watched my heart get ripped from my chest, thrown the the ground and then kicked around and trampled like a soccer ball. I can't help but wonder, who was He rooting for? Was He hoping that I would be strong and intercede, saving my own heart? Or was he hoping Gavin would win by stealing it from me and punting it across the world, rendering it useless and filling me with an inexplicable pain?I guess there were cheers from heaven if that was case, because Gavin won.

I can't remember the last time I was this depressed. Shit, I haven't had cuts on my wrists in like, a year. It's crazy. I always have to be aware of them. And they're the first thing people see. It's like a lamp to a moth. I just keep self-consciously tugging at the sleeves of my shirt, praying they didn't see. I'm really just pathetic. I have no respect for myself at all. Not even a little bit. I let Mary boss me around. I sleep with Gavin even though he said all those horrible things to me and humiliated me in public. I let the girls at work talk shit on me while I'm standing right there. I let Mary's mom and Vince tell me what to do with my life. I talk to Nick even though he just wants to fuck me and doesn't respect me enough to leave me alone about it every time I refuse. I let my mom control my emotions. I let fear and shame control my life. I'm just a little bitch. I never once stand up for myself. I feel like everyone else has more of a say in my life than I do. And I can't complain about it because I let them. I let everyone hurt me and then I let them come back for me. I let everyone get what they want out of me even when I feel like I really have nothing left to give. And then, after they get what they want, they leave me to suffer in silence. I'm just a little bitch. That's the best way I can describe the person I am. A jellyfish has more spine than I do. A little girl has more guts than me. I'm just fucking pathetic. I'm ashamed of the person I am. So fucking ashamed. I want to just hide under my covers forever. All alone. Where no one can see me.

I'm too tired to fall asleep. I'm too weak to follow dreams. I'm just...exhausted in every way possible. My mind is tired. My heart is tired. My soul is tired. I'm just so weary. I can't explain why. I guess it's just a lot of things. Everything. Everything is taking a toll on me: emotionally as well as physically. I don't understand my life right now. Why is it "weird" for me to go to a concert with Gavin? Why am I talking to Nick? Why am I hanging out with him tomorrow night when I don't even want to? But that's the thing. I don't want to do any of the things I'm doing right now. Any of them. I don't want to get over Gavin. I don't. That's not a chapter of my life I'm willing to put the final punctuation mark on. I don't want to see anyone else. What's the point? Where's the purpose? I don't want to go to work. And I don't want to try. I don't want to laugh. But I don't want to cry. I don't want to sleep. But I don't want to stay awake. The one thing I actually do want is the one thing I can never have again. I want what I used to have.

I slept for 18 hours. Shit. I feel refreshed. Last night r00led. And my hand still smells funny. I should wash that again, huh? Yeah, well, I've said it before: There's nothing better than a good dirty secret. But I was wrong. The only thing better than a good dirty secret is a bad dirty secret. And I feel so naughty just thinking about it.

I know I've made it all day without crying, but I think I'm just going to lay in bed and cry tonight. Not because I'm sad, per say, but because I just feel so...undeserving. So ignorant and so self-absorbed. There's this great god ruling universes and galaxies and, while looking down upon all the turmoil and heart break in the world, He cares about my heart break. He cares that I hurt. I don't understand it. But do I have to? For days, I've felt like I've been going through this world unseen, unheard, and unloved. But, I'm so stupid. It's hard to not be angry with God even though I know this is all just part of The Plan but, as my heart breaks yet again, I can't help but wonder, how much more pain do I have to go through until I get to the end?

Bravo. Today is the first day I've gone without crying once. I'm proud of myself, I really am. Maybe my methods are anything but conventional but who cares? I'm happy for once and I think that's all that matters. I don't care what other people might think or say because, well, nobody's ever going to have to know. There's nothing like a dirty secret to make the first stitch in healing a broken heart. And boy, this secret is filthy.

“Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

I just cried.

I give myself 3 days to get over a break up. No matter how long the relationship was, how intense, or how horrible the break up was. It would be impossible to give myself 3 days to get over the actual person, because that takes time and healing. But I let myself cry, be immature, be irrational and be miserable for the day of the break up and the following 2 days. On the 3rd day after the break up, I need to be done crying and I need to have made myself at peace with the whole thing. Today is the 3rd day after the break up. Day 3. And I wore mascara for the first time in 3 days today. And I even kept it on. I feel the tears welling up inside of me every so often at random points during the day. But I'm staying strong. I'm just trying to focus on me. Which isn't as easy as I hoped since he was more of me than I am. Wow. This is hard. But I think I'm getting a little bit better. Because after I wrote "Wow. This is hard," I thought "That's what she said" and I chuckled to myself. I guess this is just going to take time. I just wish there was a fast forward button on life. Or a scene selection. But to be honest, to prove how pathetic I really am, after everything he said and the way he's made me feel, if life had a remote, I wouldn't hit fast forward. I would hit rewind and then pause.

I've finally found one safe dream. It's pathetic when your safe dream is a nightmare. Everytime I wake up in the middle of the night and I'm thinking about him, I just shut my eyes and I think about this nightmare I had not too long ago. In the nightmare, actor Chris Elliott is raping me and I'm screaming, trying to get someone to help me, but no one is around. Nobody hears. Because I'm all alone with him. He rapes me over and over again. And that's what I think about instead of Gavin. That's what puts me to sleep. That's what I've been dreaming about. I'm so sad.

I'm so broken. I don't know when I've ever felt so broken. I just want to cry. But I think I ran out of tears. It doesn't matter what I do to him, I still can't mend this broken heart. Broken it is. I'm afraid to face tomorrow. I'm afraid to face my dreams tonight. I don't want to live anymore. I'm failing to see the purpose. I want to die. I really do. Just fall asleep forever. That could be the only consolation to me right now. I'm so broken. And I don't know what to do. Somebody please come rescue me. Rescue me from my memories. I'm so broken. And I need help. But the one person who can fix me is the one person who shattered me. Somebody, please help. I'm so broken.

When will it stop hurting so much? When am I going to smile again? Smiling seems so impossible right now, I can't even imagine laughing. When will I stop crying? When will my heart stop aching? When will I find a safe memory? I just need one. But every memory is just, tainted. I have nothing safe to think about. I just wish I could stop thinking. If you can't think, you can't hurt. And if you can't hurt, you can't cry. And I don't want to cry anymore. I just want to stop hurting. When will it stop hurting so much?

Waiting. Waiting is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I feel like I spend my whole life waiting. Waiting for opportunities and chances. Waiting for love. And now...now that I've found love...what do I do? Wait. Wait to see where this will go. Sometimes I wish I could make other people's decisions for them. Like this one. I don't know how long Gavin and I will be together. I don't know. But I want to see. I want to give us a chance at forever. And right now, we have an expiration date. 6/10. I hate that. I hate that no matter how much we love each other or how great our relationship is, June is the end date. I can't do that. I can't. I know I can't but I also know that I will. A smart person would break it off now so it will hurt less. But me? I mean, even if he says he isn't going to move with me, I'm not going to end this until June. 8 months. Eight months for our relationship to grow only to be cut down. And then I'll be back at square one: in pieces. Will I be able to get over it? Of course. I have gotten over much greater. But for once in my life, I wish I didn't have to. I wish things would just stay good. I'm not stupid. I don't think it will be easy. I don't even know if it will be right. But if we don't give it a shot, we will never know. And I just want to know. I don't want to spend my whole life wondering and asking myself, "what if?" I just want to know. And if this all ends because I'm moving, I will never know. And I don't think I'll ever be able to truly love someone again because there will always be a part of me holding out for Gavin and still mulling over the possiblities that could have been realities if we had stayed together. I just want us to have a shot at forever. Even if we miss the shot, I want us to have the opportunity. I can't let myself throw this away. I've finally found love. Finally. After all the heartache and heartbreak, my heart is finally back together again. I don't think my heart has ever felt so whole before. Giving us an expiration date is giving my heart an expiration date. Only worse. Because even when my heart is in pieces on the floor, I will still have to go on. Devastated and heartbroken.

I should be happy. Everything good has happened today. I should be happy. But I'm not. I'm not. And try as I may, I can't seem to get happy. I'm just too far gone. Gone to wherever souls go to make you feel this way. I don't know. Wherever souls go. I just want to run very fast. Very far. And when I can't run any further, I just want to fling myself down and cry. And cry. And just lay there forever. Never run back. Just lay there and live the rest of my life out wherever I'm laying. I want some drugs. Something strong. That will take me out of my body for a while. Or forever. Yes. Forever. I just want to be taken out of my body. Forever.

I have so much to say. So much I'm feeling. Or, actually, not feeling for fear of hurting. I guess I'll just say everything. At this point, where's the harm in being honest, with myself, for once? This has no point, no goal. This has no plotline, no underlying message. Take it for what it is. Because that's all it is.

So, sleeping with Gavin. Wow. That's going much better than I ever thought it would. Somehow, sex is just sex with us. Nothing more. But sometimes, sometimes, I wish it were. Just a little bit more. Nothing big like a relationship. Just...more. It's so empty. Empty and...unfulfilling sometimes. I've realized that the great part of being in a relationship is going to bed at night knowing that there's always someone thinking of you. It's been difficult going to bed lately, thinking of him and knowing that...he isn't thinking of me. I'm ohkay with it. Really, I am. It's just....been hard. And it isn't the sex making me this way. The sex is nothing. Nothing at all. I think it's just those feelings I've always had for him. I don't think they will ever go away. Even when a million years pass and I stop thinking about him entirely, when I see him, my heart will always skip a beat. Guarding my heart has never been easy for me. No, that's not what I mean. Very few people get close enough to me to even have the...ability...to hurt me. I just care so little about most people. People are just...so unreliable. So pointless. I don't really see the point in trusting a lot of people. The more people you let close to you, the more likely you will get hurt. It's just a matter of probability, you know, an if-I-have-6-red-marbles-and-8-blue-marbles-in-a-bag sort of thing. I like to keep very few marbles in my bag at one time. But anyway, Gavin. He's one of the few people I've trusted. I trust, actually. I know this is corny, but, he has a piece of my heart. A piece I will never get back. Not that I want it back. It's rightfully his. Really. But the fact that it's missing, isn't one I can easily overlook. I feel it missing. I feel the spot where it once was. It's just this empty gap. Over time, the edges will smooth out, and the ache will numb. But, the fact that it's gone will never change. With all that in mind, you can understand why I love being around him. When I'm with him, I feel a little less incomplete. It's at the point where I don't care on what terms I'm allowed to be around him on. Whether I'm his girlfriend or just back-up friend...it just doesn't matter. So long as I can be around him. I don't know why. I don't know. I don't know why I crave being around him so much. We weren't together very long. We didn't go through anything life-changing together. We weren't insanely in love. We weren't anything out of the ordinary. But, something about him makes me feel...safe, I guess. Safe. Yes. Very safe. Something about him makes me feel like, while I'm in his presence, I cannot be hurt. I'm invincible. Which is sort of ironic since, I mean, he kindof hurt me. But unlike others, who have said or done hurtful things, the only thing that hurt with Gavin was the idea of losing him. I'm like that with other people too. With Mary... Mary is someone I trust with my entire being. The kind of love I have for her is one that can't be compared or duplicated. It's the strongest form of love there is. I would do anything for her. Anything. I can't think of a single thing I would not do for her. She's become more myself than I am. She's my soul, my life. I cannot live without my life. I cannot live without my soul. Whatever souls are made of, Mary's and mine are the same. She is my everything. The only time I'm depressed is when I am not around her. When I start to think that maybe this life has nothing for me, I look at her and see my purpose. I would much rather spend an eternity in hell with her than a minute in heaven without her. The worst of my nightmares aren't the ones of being raped or abandoned. But of losing her. I can't fathom a life without her smile. What kind of a life is that? That isn't a life at all. The minute I lose her, my life will end. My soul will die. My heart will give up. She's my reason for existing. My sole purpose for being. I love her more than I can put into words. All the words in the world could not but hold candle to the way I feel about her. She doesn't have a piece of my heart; sheaza has the entire thing. Everything I am, everything I was, everything I dream to be is nothing without her. So, there's two people who have my heart, or a piece of it, anyway. In my life thus far, these two people plus one other are the only people I have let close enough to hurt me. Mary could easily end my life. Some would say it's stupid of me to let her that close. But the thing about Mary is that she never will. Though she holds the keys to the gates of Hell, she would never dream of using them. I love her. And she loves me. And she is the only person I will ever need.

Down in the pits. That's where my soul is right now. I don't really know how to explain it. It's like, I'm utterly insatiable. There is nothing that will satisfy me. Nothing anyone can say or do. Everything is wrong. Unbearably wrong. And it makes me so angry. I just want to shake them. And scream in their face. Make them silent with the fear of my wrath. I get so angry lately. So angry. I don't know why. The slightest thing sets me off. I find myself subconciously clenching my jaw. My teeth grinding together as a result of my inner rage. Chills shoot through me, covering my skin in goosebumps. My forehead hurts lately from my brow, constantly furrowed, completing the permanent scowl I wear. I'm just so unsatisfied with everything and everyone. And the fact that I'm never content, never happy, makes me so frustrated. I'm so angry. While I often do not vocalize these frustrations, my body can't keep them a secret. The skin on my knuckles is taut, stretched over the bone, the tendons accentuated with anger. Right now. Right now, tears are stinging my eyes and I'm shaking with rage. And nothing really happened. Gavin blew off our plans. Again. And while I know that he has a good reason and he isn't meaning to, I can't keep my rage at bay. I'm so angry. And all I can think about is driving my fist through the window pane. Or throwing a chair at the computer screen. My head hurts from wearing my anger. I'm so angry. And I can't keep these tears from burning. And Gavin isn't texting me back. And I'm trying really hard not to think about it. Because when I think about it, I get very angry.Very angry. I just don't understand why he can't text me back. Like, is it really that difficult? Honestly? It takes, what? 4 seconds to type a response out. All I need is a yes or no answer. YES. OR. NO. This is not that difficult. It really makes me wonder how low his IQ really is. If he isn't able to text a 2-3 lettered response....GOOD FUCKING GOD. HOW IS THIS LEVEL OF STUPIDITY EVEN POSSIBLE? I sent him a text SIXTEEN MINUTES AGO. WHAT could he POSSIBLY be doing that hinders him from sending me a FOUR SECOND REPLY? I am so furious. It is taking all of me not to break something. Throw something. Hit something. I NEED TO DESTROY SOMETHING. I can't believe how mad I am. I want to snap my phone in half. Throw the pieces at the door. Smash the screen. Everytime I pick it up to see if he's replied, I can feel the fragile buttons beneath my very able fingers. And all I think is, "just a little pressure. Release just a little bit of my anger out onto this feeble keypad and..." Well. I would destroy it. I would destroy until one could not identify it as a phone anymore. Just mere metal flakes. So, this is how I've been lately. Furious beyond compare. Without probable cause. Just. Furious. My heart is pounding. Glowering at the computer screen, my eyes are stinging with the tears pushing from behind them. Threatening to break through and flood. But I can't let them. Otherwise, I will drown myself in a deluge of my own angry tears. Although drowning, right now, well, it doesn't seem so cruel.

Brilliantly, I've removed my heart from the rest of me. I set it aside for later use. Much later use. Right now, my heart will just make a mess of things and more damage will be done to it. For now, I need to do this heartless. I've found a way to be happy for the time being. But if I let my heart play a part in this, all will be ruined. I'm happy. I really am. My body and mind are in a happy state of being. My heart on the other hand... Well, it's tender already. It's too sensitive for something like this. I'll be fine. I'm not worried. The decisions I'm making right now will not harm me...so long as I keep my heart far from everything. It's weird not feeling. To not hurt. But also to not love. This is no way I want to live for a long period of time. But for brief intervals, I think it's ohkay. I can't cry. I'm physically inable to cry. Because I don't feel sad. I don't feel anything. Ha, it's weird. The last time I felt like this was after Ryan broke up with me. I was numb, so to say, for over a year. This isn't the exact same. I didn't choose to become this way out of devastation. I can easily make myself feel again. I just don't want to right now. Feeling will just ruin all of this. And I like this. I'm happy. At least, I think I'm happy. I don't actually feel happpy. Because, well, I don't feel anything anymore.

I trek on through it all. Through everything that has happened and is happening. I just trek on. I haven't completely registered all that has happened. I don't want to. I just want to keep moving. Because if I don't pause, nothing has time to hit me. Must keep moving. Part of me is scared to keep moving and part of me is scared to pause. Even for an instant. The night after Gavin and I broke up, I had sex with someone else. I've had sex with this guy every night for the past week. Not because I want to, necessarily, but because it keeps my mind off of things. It's a time killer. Space filler. It fills that new void in my life. That gap that Gavin left when he did.. I never meant to fall so hard for him. This was never my intention. My brain kept saying I should guard my heart. That I shouldn't fall so fast so soon. But my heart didn't care. At all. My heart was finally happy. And even though it was unwise, I let myself fall. And fall I did. Flat on my face. Now, instead of laying there for a few minutes to see what damage has been caused, I quickly sprang to my feet and ran. As fast as I could. And I have this dull ache in my heart, but I know that if I stop to acknowledge it, it will hurt even more. I don't know what to do. I don't want to hurt. But I don't want to keep running. Maybe it's time I man up and face my problems. But the little girl in me just doesn't want to feel another hurt in her heart again. My heart hurts so bad.

I'm at home alone tonight. And I'm not sad, I'm just lonely. My thoughts are dwelling on him. Not in a bad way, necessarily, though not in a good way either. Just in a way of desiring him. Desiring to be with him. I fell asleep in bed with him last night. And I wished I could fall asleep beside him every night and have his voice be the first noise to meet my ears in the morning. I'm not silly or stupid. I can certainly live without him. I just...don't want to. He makes me so happy. When I'm with him, I feel wanted. Cared for. I love the way he makes me feel. The only time I get angry with him is when I think of losing him. Because to lose him would be to lose all these feelings and have loneliness and stress in their place. Sometimes, he really makes me feel weak. Lightheaded. Breathless. I'm not used to feeling this way. But I know I don't want to lose this. When we're laying in bed together, I shut my eyes and pray that I can stay in that moment with him forever. Time passing, moments changing, however, are inevitable. My prayers fall on deaf ears as the seconds tick endlessly by. I'm so love sick. But unlike most illnesses, I don't want this one to pass.

I rarely think about him. But once I start, I can't stop. Lately, I've been thinking about him a lot. Not as much as I did back in middle school but much more than I usually do. I don't know why. Maybe it's due to the fact that I'm on my own now. Or maybe because Mom and Andy are divorcing. Whatever the reason, I can't help but think about him. I think about him and wonder if maybe, just maybe, he's thinking of me. Silly, girlish notions, I'm sure. I just can't help myself from wondering. From hoping. I wonder if I would make him proud. Is this person I've become finally worthy of his love? I feel like all this time, I've been trying so hard to get approval from someone I don't even know. I wonder if now, now, he would approve. Maybe now he would be thankful I am alive. Maybe now he would care. He seems so close. So close but so far. Sometimes I talk to him. I talk to him in the quiet of the night and whisper a little prayer that God will carry my words to him. And maybe one day, he'll talk back. I've been feeling lonely lately. That void has become unfilled again. I find myself longing day after day for a dad. I thought that after not having one for all these years, I wouldn't even realize that I didn't have one anymore. It would be just normal. Default. I guess I was wrong. When I look in the mirror and study my face, I think of his face. When I put my pen to paper and draw something, I think of his drawings. I think of him in almost everything I do and I can't help but to wonder, does he think of me too?

I wish happiness were like hangovers-endless and incurable.
I woke up with a hangover from hell. I drank so much last night that I am still drunk. It's horrible. I'm so nauseous. And I'm thinking that if I were overwhelmed with joy instead of alcohol, I wouldn't be complaining. In all honesty, I've been really happy. I don't really remember when I was this happy last. I keep saying that but that's because this type of joy is just so foreign to me. I've accepted that all things must end, but I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts. Tomorrow, my world may be but ashes, but today is perfect and I'm going to live in this moment while it's still here. I think that in a way, life is kind of like an alcohol binge. At first you feel incredibly happy but the next day, you can't even stand. While a hangover is inevitable, it doesn't have to be unbearable. For now, I'll keep drinking this in and think about the hangover tomorrow.

I think that it isn't very normal for happiness to worry people. I think that it's just me. For the past few months, my life has been mediocre, and I've been completely happy with that. Only now, since I find myself often elated, do I worry. I'm used to disasters. I'm used to depression. I'm used to decency. It's pure, unadulterated happiness that leaves me truly dumbfounded. I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to feel about being this happy. Part of me wants to just bask in it while it lasts but the cautious part of me won't let myself do that. Part of me just will not let me forget who I really am and what my life is really like. Almost as a foreboding, my dreams lately have been haunted with the ghosts that pervaded my life years past. Nightmares of the rapes and of my dad visit me in my sleep every night. Just reminding me of what my life really looks like. Telling me that this happiness is but a temporary state of being and that, as always, my world will fall apart at the end of it all. Alanna tried to reassure me the other day by suggesting that maybe it was just about time for my life to start getting good and actually stay good. I pretended to agree with her but deep down, though not so deep at all, I know that things in my life aren't supposed to stay good for very long. If I haven't learned anything else from my life thus far, I have learned that things for me are supposed to be difficult and things for me are supposed to be painful. I always get through it. Whatever it may be at the time. But it's always painfully difficult and difficultly painful. My mom says I'm cynical, but really, I think I'm just realistic. At this point in time I'm very happy but I know, that in just a brief moment, I will find myself standing at the base of yet another enormous mountain I am forced to climb, my happiness and feelings of elation left miles behind.

Looking through my Facebook and MySpace friends, I can name 4 that should be in jail for either raping me or sexually assaulting me. Four. It makes me wonder how many other people I'm "friends" with should be in jail for doing that to other girls. Other people don't know about what these guys have done to me. I get so pissed off when I see people talking to them and commenting on things they say. It makes me so angry that these guys are getting away with what they have done to me. And, not only are they getting away with it, but they remain to be well-liked people. I know that it's my fault that they're getting away with it. I should have told someone about what was happening. I didn't and now they're going on living consequence-free lives. All because of me. I wish I would have told someone. I wish these guys would have to pay for what they've done to me. Maybe if other people knew, they wouldn't be so quick to judge me. I think I am a good person. I try to be. I know that in many areas, I'm far from good. But, I really do strive to be a good person. The mistakes I have made, I try to learn from and use them to better myself. I wish people would see that. I wish people could look beyond the surface and start to see me for who I really am and not a superficial, slutty bitch. I just wish people knew. It's my own fault that they don't.

My soft voice cried out in earnest to the dark, empty room. Tears flooded my eyes and spilled over, soaking my cheeks. My cries were met with shouts of silence. I rolled over in my bed and faced the wall though I saw nothing. Blackness was all around me, drowning me in nothingness. Water poured out of my eyes as I squeezed them shut. "God," I whispered. "Please don't let me get hurt again. My heart has been beaten, broken, bashed up and bruised. I've done my best to patch it back up but it's hanging on by a thread. I'm afraid that one more thing will just unravel it completely. Please, God. Don't let me get hurt again." God kept quiet as I buried my face in my pillow, muffling the loud sobs I couldn't control. At age 10, I didn't think that I could handle another painful experience. Already in my life, I had experienced pain that most 5th graders couldn't even dream up. Loneliness had become my inseparable companion. Depression had it's foothold on me and pain was a feeling I felt every second. Questions raced through my mind every day, searching for answers and only finding more questions. Guilt loomed over me, watching me, taunting me. Reminding me of things I just wanted to forget. The idea of living 80 more years was one I couldn't even think of. I think, deep down, I never expected to get far in life. Some people were meant to die young and something in me told me that I was one of those people. My left arm screamed in pain. I ran my right index finger down my arm and felt rows and rows of raised welts covering my inner and outer arm. I promised God that would be the last night I ever destroyed my body. I never in a million years would have imagined that that was just the beginning.

I don't care about my life. At all. I don't care about myself. Yet I constantly complain that nobody else cares about me. How ironic.

I really shouldn’t be alive. I really rather not be alive. I passed out last night in an attempt to suffocate myself, in hopes of waking up to be somewhere not of this world. Instead, I woke up to the same miserable, pathetic life I tried so hard to escape. My friend Brittany once said that she swore there were angels watching over me. All evidence supports that statement. I have tried numerous occasions to die. Death has become my obsession over the years. The things I have done should have killed me. There is no other explanation than God and his army of seraphim guarding me closely. I don’t know why. All I know is that all I want is to die and all God wants is for me to live. I’ve strangled myself, hung myself, slit my wrists, overdosed on pills, overdosed on pills and chased them with vodka, put a trash bag over my head until I passed out, and now attempted to suffocate myself. My attempts have been in vain. Some how, something keeps me alive through it all. Pushes me to the edge but won’t let me fall off. I feel like the only sure way of dying is to shoot myself in the head. But attaining a gun is something I haven’t been able to do. It’s like God just shuts all the doors of death I try to enter. I saw God’s hand last night. That’s something I will never tell anyone for fear of sounding crazy because I know- I know­- it’s crazy. But it’s true. A pillow pressed tightly over my face, inhaling what I exhale, poisoning my lungs, I saw God’s hand reach out to me. I tried to grab it, I wanted to grab it, but I knew the only way I could grab it was to leave this world. So I pressed the pillow harder. And harder and harder. I inhaled sharply, my lungs screaming for oxygen got none. A weird tingle went through my entire body, like every part of me fell asleep. And then I fell asleep. A rush to my head, specks of light swarming around my shut eyes, and I was gone. Forever, I thought. But I awoke. I awoke and I was confused at first. Wondering why I was still here. How I was still here. I don’t understand. Why won’t God let me touch His hand? Why is He depriving me of eternal bliss? For what reason am I forced to suffer day in and day out? Why won’t he let me die?

I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life.

Sobriety. It is a fantasy I've been unable to attain thus far. Every time I think I can do it, I realize I can't. That's how I am with confidence too. I think that maybe I can have some. Then I realize, I don't. I don't have a drop of confidence in me. There was a point in time, long ago, not so long ago, when I was confident. When I didn't need anything to make me feel like I was important. Special. Needed. Real. I just knew it. I knew God created me and was going to do something incredible with my life. That confidence has gone. My worth has now disolved into the bedsheets and I am nothing. I am not important. Nor special. Nor needed. I often doubt that I am even real. I wonder if God really did create everyone with a purpose. A plan. Maybe not everyone has a purpose for living, we just do simply because we don't know any better. Are some people just space fillers? Am I one of those people? I used to really believe that God gave me such a hard life so He could use me in some amazing way. Now I wonder if God didn't even give me this life. Maybe I created all of this myself. Maybe I was just destined to be nothing. I feel like I'm holding onto this life by the skin of my teeth. Just with the hope that maybe, if I can get through all of this, there will be something amazing waiting for me. But I'm beginning to strongly doubt it and I really think that maybe I should just let go. Pain is only worth it if there is something to be attained at the end of it all. Through all these years of pain, you would think that by now I might have something to show for it. But all I have are these ugly scars and suffocating fears. I don't think it's worth it anymore. Used. Over and over and over again. It gets tiring, it really does. My heart is being held together by weak thread, threatening to unravel at any given moment. Maybe it's just time I take a seam-ripper to it and put myself out of my misery. I know it's selfish. I know some may find it overdramatic. But I don't care at this point. For once, I want to do something for me. The other night at work, he backed me up against the wall, whispering sickeningly thick, "You want me to prove I'm not gay? Want me to prove it right here? Right now?" Fear ran up my spine and twisted my stomach. All I could choke out was "...no...no..." I'm tired of feeling that fear. I am. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to feel like the only time I'm wanted is when my mouth is shut and my legs are spread. I don't want to feel that way anymore. I want to feel loved and needed. I want to feel like the little girl I once was. Many empty, dirty nights have separated me from her so far that I barely remember what she looked like. How did it feel to be loved and wanted just because I existed? How did that feel? I can't remember. I would give anything to go back in time and freeze those years forever. Anything at all. I just want to be loved. For me. In all of my faults and inadequecies. I don't think this world is meant for me. I think that maybe God made a mistake. I think maybe I'm one of those space-fillers. I know God must love me. He must. I want to go be with Him. I want to feel loved. I want to lay next to him in a room full of yellow balloons. Looking up at them through the strings. Next to the one who really, truly loves me. For me.

I haven't been sober in over a week. In fact, I'm not sober right now. I find myself forgetting what sober feels like. And then I start sobering up, and immediately I remember. So I change it. My booze. My drugs. They're all that's running me at the moment. I have a liquored up smile and high, squinty eyes. In my heart, I feel like this isn't what happiness is. But in my head, I think it's close enough. I don't want to live like this anymore. I'm tired of having to consume something in order to feel alright. It isn't even that it makes me feel good, necessarily. It's that it doesn't make me feel bad. And at this point in time, I just can't bear to feel bad. Being numb is so much better. But I know it's wrong. And I'm hurting people I really care about along the way. My sister has been begging me to put the bottle down but I promise her every time it's my last time. I promised Nick I'd be done drinking. I stopped, but now I can't stop smoking. It's like I always need something. And I just want to be filled with this immense joy so I don't need anything. Happiness is circumstantial; joy is everlasting. I need joy. I need to be ohkay with being sober. Soberiety needs to not be my enemy anymore. God created emotion, who am I to try and numb it? I want so badly to be sober and stay sober. As my high goes down, I want to keep it that way. I can only pray that the Lord will give me the strength I need to live through life sober. Because, He knows I'm not strong enough to slay this demon myself.

I'm not worth it. I'm not worth even the smallest of things. The tiniest of inconveniences simply cannot be done. Because I'm just not worth it. Sometimes I wonder what I am worth. But when I try to think of something, I come up with nothing. I'm not sure that there is someone more worthless than me in all the world. Every fiber in me screams for someone to love me. To care. Just once. Every fiber in me wants to fall apart because no one does. I'm worthless. I'm trash. Nobody has been so worthless in the history of time. Even the bugs in the dirt beneath my knees have more of a purpose than I do. It's times like these where I wonder why I even bother. Every breath I breathe is purposeless. Every beat my heart makes is just a waste. I'm just a waste. It's times like these where I think it would just be best if I didn't exist at all. Anymore. I think it's for the best.

I'm a master of metaphors. A ventriloquist of verbs. A composer of compounds. I'm a slave-driver of similes and an artist of adjectives. Words bow at the flick of my tongue. They quiver at the touch of my finger. I control words. It's what I do. Nothing could come more natural. Do I sound arrogant? Proud and confident? That's the words speaking. When arranged in a certain manner, I can make myself sound any way I want to sound. I can sound arrogant or meek. Mischevious or innocent. Do you like someone shy? I can sound shy. Or maybe you'd like me to come off more outgoing, because I can do that too. A few harsh words put together will make you fear me. Some well-placed hesitations will have you laying me down like a tile floor and walking all over me. When I run my sentences on and on like this without any breaks or pauses for a very long time perhaps throwing in a bunch of adjectives and lots and lots of descriptions of meaningless thoughts and places you begin to think of me as a jabber mouth and you can almost imagine the long exhale I will produce by the end of this because just reading this in your head makes you short of breath. Maybe I'll talk in fragments. Very short. To the point. Explanations unimportant. I'm too important. Too important for you. No time. No time at all. No time for you. Can't use complete sentence. Too busy. Too busy for you. Oh, sweetie. I didn't mean it. I was just playing, I'm so sorry. Let me comfort you with some soothing words. You poor thing, I want to just scrub that little frown off that sad face. Scrub, scrub, scrub! Now, there! Look at you! Let me see your smile? Where is it? Oh, oh! There it is! How old do you feel? Feeling like you're a little too old to be talked to like that? How do you think of me now? I don't care how you think of me. I'm sure what you think is wrong. Your opinions of me are based soley on superficial judgments and empty rumors. Where I have a backbone, you have nothing. A jellyfish has more spine than you do, probably more intelligence as well. Have you ever cared about something worth caring about? Do you know what is real from what is fake? Look in the mirror. There you will find a splendid example of what fake is. Nahh I'm just joshin ya, bro. You know I don't mean any of this, ha! Right? Right? Nope. I'm a priest of puns, a rabbi of run-ons. I'm a pastor of prepositions. I sit on my crucifix of conjunctions like the Jesus of Juxtaposition. Analyze me like the Holy Scripture to see if you can figure out what is really me, and what is merely a bunch of well-placed words, ordered to form a facade of who I am. See if you can tell the difference. If there is one.

I mourn over the loss of the joy in me. I'm so hurt. I'm at this point where I can't bear to feel. Because every time I feel, I hurt. This is my breaking point and I'm trying my best to keep it together. I'm at a loss for words for once in my life. I can't help but to reiterate how unhappy I am. With everything. I don't know if I've ever felt so worthless. So uncared for. So unloved. So pointless, in my life. I'm just helpless right now. I'm on my knees, and I actually feel like this is the only right thing in my life. The Lord has dragged me to my knees, because I wouldn't go willingly. I've been leaning on my friends. My drugs. My alcohol. My medications. My family. For everything. And now I can't. My friends have deserted me. My drugs, my alcohol leave me feeling horrible and empty. My medications don't work anymore. My family is broken into pieces. And I remain. But barely. Scraping my fingernails in the dirt, being dragged into a direction I've never dared to wander, my nails chipping to the cuticle, I'm finally on my knees. Crying and praying. Screaming out to God in hope that things will finally get better. My eyes will flow unceasingly until the Lord looks down from heaven and sees.

I have lost everything. What I didn't lose, I sold. And now I'm here empty-handed and full-hearted wondering what I have left to give. Sometimes I feel so worthless. What do I have to offer the world? What do I have to offer anyone? If I knew then all that I know now, I could have made myself a wonderful life. Instead, all of my mistakes have created this mess of a bed that I have to lie in. I think it all started when I was 5 years old, sitting on the front porch waiting for Daddy #2 to come see me. He didn't come. He never came. Fast forward to every Father's Day for 10 years, waiting for any daddy to come. He came. But not for me. He never came for me. Fast forward a year and I'm laying in a bed naked. The guy who just barely isn't a stranger is sitting on the edge of the bed and throws my clothes at me, my virginity laying in the corner of his room amidst the pile of other girls' virginities he'd stolen, accumulated and forgotten about. 3 days later and I'm naked on the floor next to the biggest stoner in the world thinking I may have well have had sex with him. Maybe he would like me then. And I felt like trash anyway. I can't walk a few weeks later because the night before Sam Smiley raped me while my best friend was in the other room flirting. 2 Coronas had made me more than tipsy but not too drunk to know that when he's pushing me, slapping me, pulling my hair, forcing me to suck him off and eventually pushing himself in me despite my protests, it's rape. And no, rape is not the same as rough sex. Oh and then there was Dane. Whose idea of commitment opened and closed according to when we had sex. "Yes, I want a relationship with you, Gabby." Then we'd fuck. Then it's "No , Gabby, I don't want anything serious." Oh how convenient. So there I was, 4 days before Christmas, in the cold, cement stairwell of an apartment building in KCMO. I'm 7 flights up from the apartment where the party is held and I'm with this douche bag, Alex Soper. He thinks he's the shit because he has his lip pierced. So Alex is tipsy and he's thinking he's going to get lucky. Why I agreed to go into the stairwell with him is a mystery to me. I guess I just felt bad about saying no. I shouldve said no. But so, he's pushing me against the wall kissing me and I'm ohkay with the kissing, he's cute, you know? But he's begging me to fuck him and I'm refusing. So he starts to pull the emotional act where he says nobody likes him and he just thinks I'm so pretty and he wants to be with me. But me, I'm smarter than that. So I try to leave. I want to get away. He won't let me. Keeps pushing me against the wall. He's getting mad. Tries to push me over the banister. He hikes up my skirt, moves my panties to the side and puts it in me. I'm slapping him and yelling. I hear someone call up from a few flights below. Alex pulls out, cums on my leg, zips up his pants and runs down the steps laughing. I cry. For months. But see, to him it was laughable. Because he thinks I'm the town whore trying to change my ways and have a come-to-Jesus moment and he just wasn't going to be the one who misses out or be rejected by a slut like me. Oh no no no. Well, I tell Mom. Mom says I'm trash. And that's it. That's me. I've been hurt, slayed, by everyone I know. And now I'm here, wanting to give someone something and I have nothing to give. Sometimes, I just feel so helpless. Hopeless. Worthless. I'm so hollow but I want to be full. Full of life. Full of hope. Full of love. I have lost everything. What I didn't lose, I sold. But without fail, I will restore all.

Around and around I go. Stuck on that merry-go-round of happiness. I was happy only a day ago and now I'm back in this miserable pit. Once again. Ha. It's quite humerous if you think about it. Just when I'm thinking: "Wow. Things are going to be different. I finally am getting something to be proud of," I get a swift kick in the ass compliments of Reality. I'm realizing that I'm that girl. I'm always going to be that girl. The he's may change but I'll always be that girl. I got drunk and had sex with a guy I'd had a crush on for so long. The next morning, while the taste of alcohol still lingers on my lips yet the rush has numbed, I laid there in his arms just hoping that there was some way that we could be something. That I could be something. Anything. Something more than just a night. A regret. A vague memory. But I knew even then that it wasn't a possibility. Guys don't take me seriously. I'm that girl guys have a good time with. They have relationships and meaningful conversations with "real" girls. Girls they actually care about. I am not one of those girls. As much as I may desire to be one of those girls, fate has quite a different plan of its own. Though I knew it was pointless, I talked to him again later that day, asking him how I should determine the events that had transpired the previous night. "I don't care either way," I said.(Lied.) "I just want to know. Be honest." He told me he hoped it was more than just a drunken night. Whether that was honesty or just a candied version of it, I swallowed it with a smile. From there it just...went on. We went on dates. We had conversations. He took me seriously. Finally, for the first time ever, I wasn't that girl. I was one of those girls. Now I'm sitting here. Choking on my tears and feeling even more worthless than I felt before. Hope makes things hurt worse. Because hope has no substance to it. It's just empty. Empty wishes and girlish desires. Having them fanned by a boy just makes you burn even faster. I'm in ashes, my tears soaking through me, and I just want to disappear. I'll always be that girl. No matter how hard I try to stray away from it. It just follows me, stepping on my heels and tripping me up. I'm embarrassed to show my face. I don't feel worthy enough to even coexist with these people. I'm trash. Nobody will ever want me for anything more than a night. Maybe a few nights tops but it always ends the same. They use me for what I am, let me stay around for a few hours, then in the morning, put me by the curb. Take out the trash.

He won't move.
So neither will I.
We'll see where that gets us.
Wild guess?
Nowhere.

For this brief moment in time, everything is just fine. In fact, everything is too fine. Things are so fine that for this brief moment in time, I feel compelled to stand completely still for fear that my one move with throw everything off and I will find myself back in that miserable pit I just got pulled out of. I feel like God is actually there. He's really listening and not only is He listening, but He's helping too. I guess it's just little things that He's doing that make my life a bit brighter. For instance, I broke my phone the other day. On top of everything bad that had happened that day, through all the tears and frustration, my day was just horibble enough and then that happened and everything in me just wanted to scream. Not having any hope whatsoever, I figured I'd try to use my old phone which had mysteriously broken just weeks ago. Surprisingly, it turned on. And worked. I know it was nothing I did because I did nothing. While God didn't erase all the bad things that had happened that day, He did prevent another for which I am overwhelmingly thankful. While a phone isn't high on the priority list, I think it's unimportance in the scheme of things is what makes this so meaningful to me. To think that this great god who created and reigns over an entire world would look down at me sitting in my living room chair running my fingers through my hair and scowling in frustration and...care. He cared. He cared about me and my dinky cell phone. He cares about my stupid little problems and frustrations. For this brief moment in time, I feel like I don't have to control anything in my life. I can just live knowing that God is taking care of me. While my parents are going through a divorce and our home should feel broken, in actuality, it couldn't feel stronger. I have this boyfriend who actually wants me for me. For the first time ever, I have a guy who doesn't want anything more from me than a piece of my time which I am overjoyed to give him. High school which has felt so stupid and pointless all this time is actually feeling ohkay with me. I have all A's and I'm going to prom with this incredible guy. I have a job while many don't. I have everybody I could possibly want right here. The wonderful part of all of this is that it isn't because of anything I did or said. This isn't due to tedious strategizing and wisdom on my part. This is because God did this. He saw me miserable and wanted me to be happy. And I am. For this brief moment in time, I am happy. And I'm scared to death of going back to the saddness that has been claiming me for all these years. So I'm just going to stay still. Completely. Still.

It all gets monotonous. I have lived the same day over and over again for the past 17 years. The people and places may change but the day is always the same. The thoughts are the same. The words are the same. Every day I think, "New day." But no. Old day, new date. Recycling days and minutes and seconds. Repeating memories and conversations, smiles and tears. The consequences never change. FFW please.

Lately I've felt like all my attempts at appearing to be laid back and normal have been in vain. All my jokes, smiles, conversations and laughs have been so forced that appearing fake was inevitable. At first I thought I was only doing it to the new guy in my life but since I have been noticing it even with my closest friends and family, I realize that I'm doing it to everybody. Putting on a front. Even in front of the people who know what's really been going on. So why? What is it that is making me feel the need to hide everything from the people who have created it? This person I have become is foreign to me. She has a completely different vocabulary, different desires, different needs, she's listless and restless. She's nothing familiar to me in the least bit. Part of the old me is still inside, but she is quickly vanishing into nothing more than a faint memory. I'm torn between holding onto her and just letting her go. If I let her go, who will I become? Will I be boring, dull and careless? Because that's how I've been these past few weeks. God. I used to be so fun. I used to have something funny to say about everything. Talking in different accents and becoming different people came so easily to me and made me feel so relaxed and carefree. I was adventurous and impulsive. I lived from second to second and didn't stop to wonder if what I was doing was right. It didn't matter. Whatever the outcome was, I always had a smile on my face. Now I get bored so easily. I have no desire to do anything and so I don't. It takes all of me to do something as simple as going out or just...texting. Yesterday, I just turned off my phone because I realized that I just don't care. There isn't anybody I truly care about enough to talk to. I mean, I really like Nick, I do. I love when he talks to me, but it's when I talk to him that I feel uneasy and anxious. Because when I talk to him, it doesn't feel like it's me at all. My remarks are stupid, my jokes aren't funny, even my small talk crumbles on my tongue. Rarely do I even remember what I just said only seconds after I send it. I find myself reading the messages in the Sent box much more often than those in the Inbox. Time moves on but I stay still. Just being dragged along through everything. Being pulled on past my world that is tumbling to the ground beneath me. Little is left of the life I had. Nothing is the same. Nothing even compares. I used to dream of running away. Now I don't dream at all. Now I'm satisfied with being miserable. I don't want to be satisfied with this pathetic life I'm living. I want to enjoy the things I used to. I want to feel that girlish excitement I used to feel when beginning a new relationship especially with I guy I just feel like I don't deserve. Finally, somebody is beginning to truly care about me the way I've always wanted to be cared about and I can't bring myself to care. Maybe it's the expectation that this will all soon come to an end and my world will once again spit in my face, but maybe it's the fact that I expect that to happen that will make it so. I just want to be happy. Honestly. Happiness is all I really want.

Last night, the topic of sex came up between me and Nick. He said he didn't want our relationship to be about that, and having sex often would make it that way. I didn't really understand. There was a point in my life where I wanted someone to want me for something more than just a night, but lately I think I have been the one making it just about sex. It seems as though I have accepted the way people have treated me as normality. Somehow, I can feel happy while feeling like trash. Now here is this guy who wants me for something more than just a night. For something more than what I can do. Here's a guy who wants me for me. I find myself wondering if who I am is enough. Will this all pass? When will he see how short I have fallen? When all my imperfections finally get hit with the spotlight, will he still think I am worth it?