We has tickets, I can't wait to go.
We spent $30 on books today. fuck. but I'm really pretty thrilled, I love books.
I'm hungry. I need to lose 6inches in both my waist and hips by march. I can do it, I just need to be dedicated. I don't exactly know what to lose in my upper torso, but I'm sure I'll have no trouble losing there x.x
Got sized, I'm actually a 40D. the chick tried saying I was a DD, but I proved her wrong! >.<
I've been ignoring little things a lot lately, like my anger at my mom/sisters, etc. I've been talking to a friend, he reminds me of someone else I am close to, and I both like and dislike that.
I feel kind of manic ish. I'm not sure of what to write, my mind is all over the place.
I have my first Victoria's Secret bra. it is of the GODS. my walmart bras just don't compare. getting another one tomorrow, this one I got from a friend.
I wish my fiance let me bite him. >.<
Everyone seems to love the dress I picked for the wedding, but ONE person told me they didn't think it was that good looking, and now I'm constantly second guessing it.
I wanna use the oil pastels I got from my loverly friend for my birthday. and my new paints, and the detail brushes. But I should do homework first. screw it, I'm making something purdy tonight. XD
I'm feeling very alone right now. It makes me really depressed. I need to go out, do something. but I can't.
Maybe I'll hit the bar tonight. lol
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A little bit of history.
[[this isn't done but I'll be damned if I dont let it out.]]
I remember the night. driving up to his friends in morrow county. offering him a drink but him saying no because "he didn't want to risk anything happening to me"
The night, the sharp left turn. the bumping, the rolling of the car. EMS almost instantaneous. the blood. the blood that wasn't mine, because my blood had painted the ground, not my face, my chest. screaming. knowing he was gone but trying so hard not to believe it. but the blood, the lack of response from him... the laceration in the back of his head I heard about later, which made sense because all the blood had to come from somewhere. the EMS workers as I begged them to help him. [tears... gotta stop now...]
less than two months after he died my mom told me to "get over it"
five months after he died, I was in another state, away from one of his best friends [my boyfriend at the time, we were both hurting after the accident] I had broken up with him, I couldn't do the distance thing.
I dated a friend for a very short while [absolutely nothing serious, though I was his first gf, lol] We broke up because I stole from Meijer and got in an argument with a friend of his.
That night I grabbed the scissors out of my bag, sitting by an overpass. First I hacked off all my hair. Cut a good 6inches off, down to 1-2inches. I didn't feel better afterward. Not good enough. I sliced my arms, my neck, my chest. Not very deeply, but enough to bleed. The scissors were dull, anyway. The blood was pretty. I called 911 on myself [anonymously] and waited.
I was thinking I would be in a 72hr suicide watch type thing. I didn't know better, I was barely 17. My dad decided instead, to have me committed. 2weeks. I was told I had borderline personality disorder.
After, I was shipped back home to my mom, the self righteous bitch. She was the reason I was even up there in the first place.
This was 3yrs ago. I was put on prozac, which made me feel awful. My mom never let me go to another shrink, so I never got any more therapy or medication.
[Incomplete]
It's been 4 years. and I still can't stop crying sometimes. even being engaged, having a child... I miss you so much more than I can say. I will never let you go...
I remember the night. driving up to his friends in morrow county. offering him a drink but him saying no because "he didn't want to risk anything happening to me"
The night, the sharp left turn. the bumping, the rolling of the car. EMS almost instantaneous. the blood. the blood that wasn't mine, because my blood had painted the ground, not my face, my chest. screaming. knowing he was gone but trying so hard not to believe it. but the blood, the lack of response from him... the laceration in the back of his head I heard about later, which made sense because all the blood had to come from somewhere. the EMS workers as I begged them to help him. [tears... gotta stop now...]
less than two months after he died my mom told me to "get over it"
five months after he died, I was in another state, away from one of his best friends [my boyfriend at the time, we were both hurting after the accident] I had broken up with him, I couldn't do the distance thing.
I dated a friend for a very short while [absolutely nothing serious, though I was his first gf, lol] We broke up because I stole from Meijer and got in an argument with a friend of his.
That night I grabbed the scissors out of my bag, sitting by an overpass. First I hacked off all my hair. Cut a good 6inches off, down to 1-2inches. I didn't feel better afterward. Not good enough. I sliced my arms, my neck, my chest. Not very deeply, but enough to bleed. The scissors were dull, anyway. The blood was pretty. I called 911 on myself [anonymously] and waited.
I was thinking I would be in a 72hr suicide watch type thing. I didn't know better, I was barely 17. My dad decided instead, to have me committed. 2weeks. I was told I had borderline personality disorder.
After, I was shipped back home to my mom, the self righteous bitch. She was the reason I was even up there in the first place.
This was 3yrs ago. I was put on prozac, which made me feel awful. My mom never let me go to another shrink, so I never got any more therapy or medication.
[Incomplete]
It's been 4 years. and I still can't stop crying sometimes. even being engaged, having a child... I miss you so much more than I can say. I will never let you go...
Saturday, July 17, 2010
I blamed myself.
Watching Law & Order SVU today, again.
Got me thinking. They tell people to not blame themselves. but I still do.
It was after my moms suicide attempt, almost a year later. I was at my dads house, around christmas, 16 years old. my sister and her boyfriend were pushing my dad around, buying his silence with booze and threats. He was terrified of her boyfriend. So was everyone else. I couldn't decide who I was more afraid of, him or her. I was heavier [as she so often reminded me] but I'm not one for fighting. I can, but I don't like to. probably because of her. but that's another blog, for another time. They had a friend living there. I don't even know his real name.
My sister had alcohol, decided we would get drunk. She gave my dad a bottle and he stayed upstairs. We drank, smoked pot, and drank some more. She kept giving me more. I was so messed up I couldn't move.
They left me downstairs, with the friend of theirs. I tried to say no, but it wasn't the loud assertive no it should have been, but a drunken whimper. And... it happened. my first time. drunk and stoned in a dirty basement with someone I didn't know, or want to. On an orange couch that probably belonged in the 70s. My eyes closed, wanting this not to be happening. Thinking how awful was I to let this happen. And everyone upstairs, oblivious.
Got me thinking. They tell people to not blame themselves. but I still do.
It was after my moms suicide attempt, almost a year later. I was at my dads house, around christmas, 16 years old. my sister and her boyfriend were pushing my dad around, buying his silence with booze and threats. He was terrified of her boyfriend. So was everyone else. I couldn't decide who I was more afraid of, him or her. I was heavier [as she so often reminded me] but I'm not one for fighting. I can, but I don't like to. probably because of her. but that's another blog, for another time. They had a friend living there. I don't even know his real name.
My sister had alcohol, decided we would get drunk. She gave my dad a bottle and he stayed upstairs. We drank, smoked pot, and drank some more. She kept giving me more. I was so messed up I couldn't move.
They left me downstairs, with the friend of theirs. I tried to say no, but it wasn't the loud assertive no it should have been, but a drunken whimper. And... it happened. my first time. drunk and stoned in a dirty basement with someone I didn't know, or want to. On an orange couch that probably belonged in the 70s. My eyes closed, wanting this not to be happening. Thinking how awful was I to let this happen. And everyone upstairs, oblivious.
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