Dear caretakers.

You know, I really wish I could be an actual person. Instead, I'm forced to fit into this perfect space in their giant jigsaw puzzle of freaking life. But they don't get that they trying to squeeze me into this itty bitty space and I just don't fit. Or rather, they get it; they just refuse to accept it. So they keep ripping off pieces of who I am. But they'll just keep ripping me until there's nothing left.
I'm sorry I'm not little enough.
I'm sorry I don't have any given talent for you to show off.
I'm sorry I don't make straight A's.
I'm sorry I have opinions that differ from yours.
I'm sorry I can't be 100% happy 24/7.
I'm sorry I can't be perfect for you.

But most of all, I'm sorry you can't see.



See, I painted this. When I showed it to you, you said it was "nice". But you didn't get it. You didn't get what I was trying to tell you. She has flawless skin because you won't accept anything but perfection. She has no mouth because you took away her voice. She has no body because no matter what she does, it will never be skinny enough for you. And yet, she cries. Because she's still not good enough. I'll never be good enough, will I?

You know, (well, actually, you don't) all I've had today are two doughnuts. And I have to figure out how to work those off here in a bit. That's pretty messed up. But you'll never know how hard I work at this, because you'll accuse me of being sick. Ha. Maybe I am sick. But I can't tell you that. You'll send me to another therapist. But it won't work. You know why? Two reasons.

One. Therapists can't be trusted. They'll tell you all my secrets. Everything. And then you'll know more about me than I care for you know. I've taken care of myself for the past seventeen years. I don't need you jumping in now just because you feel guilty. Spare me.

Two. I'll go twice before you start telling me I'm not REALLY screwed up. That it's all an act. That I'm wasting your precious money. Just like you did before.

So I think I'll stick to blogging. And in a year, I'll go off to college. And I hope you have fun when I come home, stay at a friend's house, and not even tell you I'm back. You'll see me in Brookshire's maybe. And I might smile and wave. And I hope you realize how lucky you are that I'm not the one who decides where you'll live when you're too old to take care of yourself.

P.S. Have you ever wondered why one of your kids lives ten hours away and the other one doesn't like to call or come over? Have you ever wondered why I keep talking about going to college as far away as possible? Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, it's because you're doing something wrong???

Ohmygoodnessithasbeenawhile!!!

I haven't posted in about a month. But, truth be told, not a whole lot has happened. I could talk about the situation in Libya, but I honestly don't care. I could talk about Japan but, other than that I'm hoping for things to get better, I have nothing to say. I'd like to avoid talking about my stupid girl drama...but this blog is supposed to be my catharsis. I'll talk about whatever I feel like talking about. Currently, I have no need to blog my thoughts. I'm trying a new thing where I "blog" it all out on a sheet of paper and drop it in the hall. It's nice. Anyway, I just wanted to touch base. Have a nice...life, I suppose. Adios.

Ah, my wonderful grandparents...

They would rather me go to a college costing forty thousand a year than one costing thirty thousand simply because it's closer. I swear, it's like they're afraid I won't come back. Granted, no part of me WANTS to come back, but I will anyway. It's insanity. I'm hoping I can dredge up enough charm to change their minds, but if I can't, I'll have to come up with another way. I just can't stay here. I need to get out, go somewhere no one knows my name, have a chance to be myself for once in my life. But I can't do that four or five hours away. There's too much of a chance that I'll run into someone I know. I can't have that. The school I wanted was a three day trip away, but it was ivy league and I knew it wasn't happening. The school I want is fifteen hours away, which sounds pretty reasonable to me. Some kids go across the country to escape; I'm just going across the region.

Anyway, I'm going to fight this. I have to win.

Aha!

I remembered!

I completely missed the anniversary of this blog! It was February 4. Yea, I'm a little late. So anyway, happy anniversary!

Always Managing to Botch Things Up

Haha so I was looking through old posts and realized that I never corrected Pookah's gender. Pookah's a boy. My bad.

This afternoon we all went to the Boardwalk (outdoor shopping mall type deal). It was A and her boyfriend, P and her should-be boyfriend, and me and my brother. P was kind of upset I think. She wouldn't hang out with us at all; just kept standing around with her should-be. But at least she looked happier with him.

I think I'm getting over my freakishly insane jealousy of A because we were laughing today like nothing was wrong. I'm not out of the woods, yet; I'm still feeling it. It's disgusting and terrible and dumb, but I can't seem to help it. She's great at everything. She can sing, dance, act, write, and everyone instantly loves her. I used to look at her and start to get jealous, but I made it go away by thinking, "Hey, at least I have writing." But then she decided that she wanted to write, too. Guess what? She's better. And on top of that, everyone instantly loves her. Children, other teenagers, adults...everyone. But, I talked to her last night. I hope it'll help.

While I was typing that whole mess, I completely forgot what I was going to say next. Oh well. It'll come to me later. Buenas noches!

P.S.

I put up my new poems. Go read :)

Opinion #5

Suicide.

Is it right? Is it wrong?

Some people will tell you that yes, it is wrong. It is the ultimate act of selfishness and you will go to Hell. But I don't think so.

It's true that 1 Corinthians 3:17 says, "If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him; for God's temple is sacred, and you are that temple." But what if:

What if you were terminally ill? what if your family was wasting their time and money trying to care for you, knowing that you were going to die? What if you're in so much pain and it's never going to stop? Is it still wrong?

I don't think suicide is wrong. Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating it. But, coming from someone who's been on that road, I think it's your choice. You should get to decide whether your life is worth living.