Remember who my real friends are.
Forget those who aren't.
Get at least decent grades in my college classes.
Lose ten pounds.
Find a real best friend.
Stop being ashamed of what I've done.
Someone on SMITH had the wonderful idea to create a compilation of the community- backstories, poetry, and conversations. I thought it was a wonderful idea and decided to contribute my backstory. It may not be as heartrenching as some of them may be, but it's my story. And I've decided to share it with you guys.
Where do I even start? I suppose it makes sense to start from the beginning, right? Well, I'm an only child, always have been, always will be. There have been many times where I wished I had a sibling or two, but my mom had complications with her second pregnancy and can no longer have children. But I've found sibling replacements. My little sister is my neighbor who I've known since I was five and she was three. We played together almost every day during the summer and have endless memories. But since she went to the Catholic school and I went to the public school, we had different school lives. We would always get into fights that lasted all of about five hours and then we'd go back to being best friends. And that's still how we are. I also have a surrogate older brother who I can talk to about pretty much anything.
I remember in kindergarten seeing a particular girl and saying "I want to be her friend" and lo and behold, we became best friends. I considered her my best friend all the way up until high school, but again, that comes later. During our best friend years, we did pretty much everything together from vacations to sleepovers to birthday parties to halloween and everything in between.
Now, I could never say truthfully that I am good with dates and timelines and the like. So I'll just throw this part in here, since I'm not entirely sure where each fit in with the sequencing of my life. I have dealt with a fair amount of death in my 18 years.
First was my cousin. I remember my mom getting the call in the middle of the night saying that she had been in a car crash. She had been with her older sister's boyfriend and a few other people going to a party. They got into a crash and her sister's boyfriend died on the scene, my cousin died later at the hospital. I remember the funeral, or rather the part before the funeral looking at the caskets. I couldn't quite understand why they were closed. She was only fifteen. I only have two or three real memories of her.
Then my neighbor. He was walking on the road coming home from (or going to, I don't quite remember) a friend's house. A drunk driver hit him and sent him flying into the ditch. The cross was there for years. Me and my sister got on the bus at the same stop as him and he was always nicer than his brother, letting us go ahead of him. I remember his wake and how I didn't cry until we got to the casket. His face was black and blue and he had on his black shirt with flames on it. I burst into tears and his mother held me until I calmed down. He was only fifteen too.
Then my aunt. I don't remember a whole lot about this death, but I know she had a brain tumor. I think she may have had a stroke or two too. What I remember most about her is her garden and her artisticness. Whenever we went to visit her, we always walked around her garden. It was so pretty, I could walk around there forever or just sit and watch the fish in the coy pond. She was a quilter and a potter. She helped me make a pot or two and I remember all the women working on the giant picture quilt we made for Grandma and Grandpa for their aniversary.
Then my Grandpa. He was always the quiet one and I never really connected with him. He sat on the couch, doing word searches, smoking his pipe, and watching tv. I was always excited when he went to bed or took his nap because that was when I got control of the tv and they had cable and we didn't. What a self centered little girl I was. He died of a heart attack. The ambulance was actually called for my Gandma but he was the one who went in and eventually died. She died last year, but I'll get to that later.
So I had to deal with a lot of death. But to be honest, I wasn't super close with any of these people. So none of it affected me particularly a lot.
So I'm about up till high school. This is when my best friend and I started to drift apart. A new girl had come to school and we befriended her. She seemed nice enough and I liked her. But as high school went on, those two started to ignore me. They were both loud and outgoing, while I was the quiet reserved one.
When this started happening in 9th grade, I started to try to find a new best friend. I found a guy who I really got along with and could tell pretty much anything to. The only thing was he was sort of into bad stuff like drinking and pot and whatnot. He wanted us to date, and I told him I would only if he didn't do any of that stuff. He promised he wouldn't, so we tried dating. But we were from different worlds, and he broke it off because of it. We stayed friends, but it was never the same. He's since fallen deeper into the bad stuff, and I pray that he finds his way out.
Here's where it starts to get confusing, so I will use initials. Then at the end of freshman year, I started talking to a new guy, S. He was a year older than me, but he liked me and I liked him. So we dated for three and a half months. I was happy at the beginning. But then everything started to go wrong. I have absolutely no idea why to this day, but I didn't want to be alone with him. I would make excuses and we'd get in fights. I decided to end it before he could, but that hardly solved my problems. I still liked him. We almost got back together winter of my sophomore year, but he didn't want that. He didn't like me like that anymore. Except for the physical part. We still messed around and I went with it because it was better than nothing. I thought I loved him and started to get obsessed. We fought all the time and I thought I was getting depressed, though I was never diagnosed.
I tried to get over him by getting a new boyfriend, D. It worked for a little while, but my mind kept going back to S. I convinced myself that I needed closure and cheated on D. I couldn't live with myself knowing what I did and broke it off with D, hurting both him and myself.
A lot of stuff was going on in my life at this point. The whole losing my long-time best friend thing, the S thing, the supposed depression, my sister was starting to get into drinking and the like, I was struggling with my faith, and my family was having financial troubles because my dad was losing his jobs. My Grandma died on Valentine's Day of pancreatic cancer and I never got to say goodbye to her. I was putting on a mask at school, pretending to be who I thought they wanted to see. There was one night in the summer that I drank at D's house. Not enough to get drunk, just tipsy. I regretted it the next day.
One night on impulse took a mechanical pencil to my arm. I listened to the same song nineteen times, all the while scratching at my arm, trying to draw blood. It sort of worked, glistening with blood, but not dripping like I wanted. I texted my friend and she convinced me to stop. I told S because I thought he'd pay attention to me and care like I wanted him to. Instead of caring, he got mad and pushed me away again. I was sick of him treating me like shit and tried multiple times to rid myself of him, but always went back.
I was starting to find better friends. They liked me for me and included me, unlike my other friends. I grew particularly close to one, J, and we tried dating, though it didn't work out. We both agreed that we should have stayed friends and he is now my best friend. He's struggling with depression and I try to be there for him however I can.
S is now in college, and I have virtually deleted him from my life. I unfollowed his twitter, deleted his number from my phone, and unfriended him on facebook. I'm friends with his new girlfriend but do not associate with him. When I am forced to spend time with him through our mutual friends, I simply ignore him like he did me for so long.
I have an amazing boyfriend, A, who is better to me than S ever was. I have better friends and can deal with my feelings more constructively through writing and talking to my boyfriend. I have constant fears that no one really likes me and A and I will end up like S and I did, but I'm working through those. I may not have the highest self esteem and sometimes I think about not eating to cut down on my weight, but most of the time I'm content with myself. I'm starting college in the fall at my first choice school, and I couldn't be more excited to start new.
So there's my story. It's very long and probably not super interesting, but it's my story.
Just something I came up with while listening to classical piano music with a blizzard outside.
I sat like those girls in movies when they’re in a cabin alone in the middle of winter (who really does that, anyway?), sideways and with my knees pulled up and my feet covered with the end of my favorite blanket. I even had the steaming mug of the perfect blend of hot chocolate and coffee, which I kept steady in one hand while pulling the blanket closer around my narrow shoulders.
I took a sip and sighed, laying my head on the back of the chair and gazing out of the window. Snow swirled and fell, engulfing the already hidden landscape in more powdery whiteness. Normally, I would have one of my various leather bound books on my lap; right now I’m working on Pride and Prejudice for the second time. But not today, today wasn’t a day for reading.
Normally, on a day like today, Zac would be sitting on the floor, leaning against my chair and reading his own book, which was usually a fantasy novel of some sort. But to completely honest, I wasn’t sure where Zac was. All I knew was that he wasn’t with me. Which, to be completely honest again, made me slightly uneasy.
Times like this were when the feeling came creeping back. That feeling deep in my chest that felt like someone were dunking some secret part of me in ice water and burning it with a cigar at the same time. That feeling that keeps growing and I can’t quite shake until he’s near again.
Some people may think that feeling is creepy and clingy, but I disagree. I tend to think of it as love. Not feeling quite right unless that person is there and being able to look into their eyes and know that’s exactly where you should be for the rest of forever, that’s what I think love is.
I must have been too engrossed in my thoughts to hear Zac get home, which is odd because I usually pick up on every little noise in our house. I jumped slightly when I felt his hands on my shoulders but relaxed as that feeling of ice water and cigar burns melted away.
So I got a $30 Barnes and Noble gift card yesterday at my family Christmas (although it was a late birthday present) and decided to get CDs I've been wanting for a while instead of books (because I have a long list of To-Read books that I already own and just haven't gotten around to reading quite yet). I was expecting to only get one or two (because I also have a $15 gift card) cause CDs are usually like $20 right? So I went online and, to my surprise and delight, found that the three CDs I wanted were all $10 or less! So I bought all three and didn't even have to use the other gift card.
I wrote that quite a while ago, as in May. I can't remember exactly what it's about, but I have a pretty good idea. It involves someone I really don't want to talk about right now.
But anyway.. I have scars, like anyone else. There are scars on my knees when I tripped while running to see my cousin play softball and falling on my bike. There are muliple scars on my hands from various paper cuts and scratches that I was too lazy to medicate. There is one on my forearm that I gave myself. I also consider a past relationship a scar on my heart and all of my bad experiences scars on my brain.
I'm not ashamed of any of these scars, though. They make me who I am.
Right now I'm in an independent study for art, and the next project I'll be working on is a series of x-ray type paintings. I've chosen four areas of the body to paint. Hand, knee, skull, and chest. If anyone asks me what they mean, I'll likely say I just liked the x-ray look and chose parts that looked fun to paint/generic body parts. But I'll let you guys in on a secret (if you haven't guessed already). They're places where I have scars. I'm painting them to remind me of where I've been and that I don't need to be ashamed.
Today is a sucky day. Tons of snow and strong winds and the inability to go see my boyfriend. I miss him like crazy and have been pretty silent toward my parents cause I'm pissed. Why does Minnesota have to be so bitchy in the weather department?
But even though today sucks, it's way better than those days of old when even though the weather cooperated. Those days when I felt like this all the time; being super quiet at home and wanting to get out of a prison.
But that prison wasn't my house in a snow storm. It was my head. I couldn't escape the terrible thoughts that plagued me day and night, tearing my insides apart.
Today is better becaue I have him. Even through the distance, he makes me feel better. Even though I can't get out of here, I still have something to look forward to tomorrow. He's amazing enough to make these days worth it.
Even on the sucky days like today, I'm happier than the days of old.
Spider-man has always been my favorite superhero though. Granted, I haven't read any of the comics or seen the movies of many other superheroes, but I still enjoy Spider-man. Gotta love the nerdy guy who gets his powers by chance and is in love with the girl-next-door.
I've always had that secret fascination with superheroes. I should really read the actual comics or watch more of the movies, so I could actually really know what I'm talking about, but the whole concept of people whose whole mission is to help others intrigues me, to be that selfless.
Everyone always says that everyday heroes are the people who are police officers or firemen and the like. But when I think of who my heroes are, my friends come to mind. They are some of the most amazing people ever, putting the needs of others before their own. Always willing to help, even when they themselves need it. Every one of them have helped me in my journey through life and I thank each and every one of them.
But in a world where there are superheroes, there must be villains, right? The one that immediately comes to my mind is the Joker. I was first introduced to him by the wonderful Heath Ledger. But the Joker is one of the more inventive super villains in my mind. He thinks through his attacks and executes them with such attention to detail and care. He has a wide range of weapons, too. What with the bladed playing cards, exploding pies, Joker venom and the like.
So that means there has to be real world villains too, right? You betcha. There are the infamous ones like Hitler and Osama and the rest. But again, I think of people in my own life. The people who have made me hurt, the ones who have caused me more pain than I could manage at the time. The methods differed, yet always left me bleeding, usually figuratively, but sometimes literally.
In all the comic books, the superheroes prevail and beat out the villains. Sometimes the villains are caught and put behind bars or are killed, but there are also the times when they get away, just to come back later with new ideas. And so it is in life. My superheroes have saved me from my villains who have been called out or just disappeared. There will always be more villains for me to face, but there will always be my superheroes to come to my rescue.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about myself. Not self-centeredly and not disregarding others. Just reflecting on who I've become. I've decided I've really started finding who I truly am.
I'm not super outgoing. I'm not loud upon first meeting. I don't go clubbing, drink, smoke, or do drugs. I tend to get quiet in situations that make me uncomfortable. I've stopped hanging out with people my own age. I still get jealous easily and have to fight myself not to say things that I know will get me in trouble in some way or another. I have low self esteem and get self conscious when I'm around girls I think are gorgeous and have perfect bodies. When I need to most, I can't understand that people actually care about me.
But I can be loud and random after getting to know someone. The people my own age quit including me, and the younger ones do, so why would I waste my time on people just because they're the same age as me? I tend to write and paint a lot, and mess around on my guitars. I watch weird movies and like weird music. There are times where I think I'm pretty and skinny.
I really do think I've changed from the person I used to be. Maybe not a whole lot, but I have. What has changed me? Past relationships that have taught me what I do and do not need, friends who have shown their indifference and those who have shown they actually care, and a boyfriend who I trust with my life and care about more than anything who reminds me that I deserve to be happy.
So if you feel like you're changing, remember it might be for the best. I know I'm much happier than I was.