The big question

Ever since my last post, I've been trying to do something each day to get my mind off of feeling bad. Its working, and that is what I'm enjoying right now. Today I thought that it would be reasonable to write in this blog more, and just write more in general. Although I've been having fun reviewing albums on my music blog, I thought that it would be cool if I would "put some life into this blog". I want to say that "noting new has happened since the last post", but that would be a lie. A lot of things has happened since the last post and I'm pretty glad that I'm here to write about it and share it.

Every day, I wake up and say "I'm alive! I made it thought the night! Why am I awake? (alright, I say that sometimes, but not all the time. I never get enough sleep). But this conversion goes two ways; I usually brush it off and just go about my day, or I think about that question all day. Today was one of those days. I was sitting in my programing class and I had just enough "me time" to think about this question. I got it down to 3 simpler questions that I have to ask myself so that I can understand the big question "why am I here?"

What do I want to do with my life?

How can I achieve that?

How can I keep myself happy?

Those are the "big 3" that are always on my mind.

I guess we all want to answer the question "why we are here" but something is different about me, I'm thinking about this all the time because I didn't die on that one day (yeah, I forgot the date.). It's like this "If I'm here, then I'm here for a reason right?" and this is a true statement. Now that I think about it, I have a lot of reasons to stay alive. I don't know them all, but I know that I would be missing out on a lot of cool things if I'm not here in about a month. Heck, I'll be missing a lot of cool things if I wasn't here period (like a Sleater - Kinney reunion. It could happen people! Just believe!). And yes, I would also miss the kid who is like my "little sister". She plays drums and also listens to Sleater - Kinney. Her mom has purple hair, and I feel like I should have been in there family all along. I didn't think about it then, but I would feel so bad if she found out that I wasn't around anymore to help her play drums, or just around in general to play more of our crazy songs. So for now, I'll be around "just in case" any un-expected jam sessions just happen to pop up anytime soon.

Although this week is almost over, I'm still planning to do something relatively fun this weekend. My guitar needs to be cleaned, so I'm going to clean it and change the strings this weekend, so I can enjoy playing more. (I get distracted when I see dirt and grime on the strings of my guitar, and I hate it when the strings buzz.)

I'll blog tomorrow, or at least I should.

The Hardest Part

I've been trying to write this blog post for a while, but I think that this might be the hardest thing that I've have written in my life. I've been a writer for a while, and although I'm not that old, I've written a lot of things but none of them have taken me this long to write ever. I've been sitting in my room for the better part of three weeks trying to think of how I would write this post. I've gotten pretty close to what I wanted to say, and I think that this is as close as I'll ever get to writing about how I really feel inside and what I've been thinking for a while. Everything that you will read in this blog post is 100% true. I'm not making any of this up so that I could get blog hits, nor am I writing this out of pity to make myself feel better. I'm really writing how I feel, and none of this is going to be self censored by me.

If you haven't know me for that long, or if you known me for a while, you should know that I've been diagnosed with Depression 4 or so years ago, and I've been getting depressive episodes every now and then. But for the past month now, things are just as bad or worse as they were when things first started. Things have gotten so bad, I've been close to killing myself for the past 3 or so years, but last month was the most serious, most extreme attempt that I had. Although I didn't go to the hospital or anything, I was as close as I've ever been to dying.

I didn't really "plan" it but I knew how I was going to do it. I used to be a biology nerd, and I realized that if I cut my Ulnar artery deep enough (the big blue thing traveling through your wrist), then I could just bleed to death and then then everything would be over and that I wouldn't have to deal with anything. I had text messaged several people, and I took those peoples advice and I didn't do anything to badly harm myself. I do have some scars on my left arm, but that was just from "mapping" out where I would cut across my arm. They aren't really deep scars and they healed up quickly.

I haven't really told anyone about this until now because I was afraid of two things; I didn't want to loose my friends, and I didn't want people to think that I'm crazy for trying to kill myself. I'm not sure if you know how that feels. Its like being really sick with a disease. You could tell people that you are sick, and then get the help that you needed, but become increasingly isolated whilst getting better, or you could not tell people that you are sick, do the things that you would normally do, keep the people around you, but die because you didn't get the help that you needed. So you can tell what kind of a place I'm in right now. I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I know that I'm going to loose some friends when they read this. I know that I'm going to be judged for killing myself. I know that people are going to think that I'm crazy and will just drop talking to me all together. If you are one of those people that will stop talking to me after I'm done saying what I really need to say, I totally understand how you feel, but just remember what you are doing. I don't suggest walking out on a person in need of help, but if you want to do that, then do it.

The second worse day of my life was walking into school the next day and trying to "act" like nothing happened. I didn't put a bandage or anything on my arm (I should have) but I did have on a hoodie in near 90 degree weather. That isn't too uncomon for me because I always wear a hoodie, but some people had to ask me questions. I honestly didn't want to answer back, but I had to. "No nothing is wrong. Why do you ask?". And even if the people that I do know asked me why I looked so "different" that day, I did the "I was up really late looking over my notes for finals, and I didn't really get that much sleep that night." but in reality, I was crying my eyes out which gave me bloodshot eyes, and I didn't sleep that night because I was so scared about what happened. But I just couldn't tell them all that I almost killed myself because I didn't want whatever welfare agency coming to my house, asking me questions, parents going to jail because they didn't do anything and me staying at a foster home because mine is not "safe" anymore. I would have liked to tell someone how I felt, but in reality, why would I do that?

A day or too later, I was in some really hot water with some classmates of mine. I probably won't forget this conversation as long as I live:

Classmate One: "Hey are you alright today? You don't look very good"
Classmate Two:"You look sick, do you need to go to the nurse or anyone?"
Me: "No I'm good."
Classmate Two:"Are you sure? You probably are getting a heatstroke, you should take off that hooide of yours"
Me:(I got lucky because I had bandaged my arm that day) "Alright fine, but I'm only pushing up my sleeve up a little"

{Semi awkward silence}

Classmate One:"Hey whats that on your arm?"
Me:"*slight pause* Do we have to go over this now?"
Classmate One:"Yes. If we don't then we won't know whats wrong with you"

Alright, slight break from me. I could have easily said that I went to the hospital for an IV drip, and those "band-aids" on my arms were from where they missed, but I didn't. I told myself to be brave.

Me:"Well, fine, I cut my arm yesterday, but that’s all I'm telling you"
Classmate Two: "Oh, did you have an accident?"
Me:"Yes. Yes I did. I had a knife in my hand and I sneezed and bam, it slipped and now I got a cut on my arm."
Classmate One:"Wow. At least you are alright"

I don't know if they picked up on the truth that was in my statements, or if they just latched onto the humor in my words. It doesn't matter to me. What matters is that one of them texted me outside of class to see if everything was ok and that "if you wanted to talk about anything, that you I have their number". What does matter is that I did talk to them, but I didn't say anything about being on my floor for 30 minutes thinking about slicing my arm open. That is why I'm writing this. If there is a chance that you are reading this, I'm sorry that I lied, or at least didn't tell you that I was on my floor for 30 minutes.

Now that I think about it, I've been such an jackass to people when I should have been asking for help from them. Here is an example: I was having a really hard day and all I wanted to do is eat my sandwich and leave so I could be alone and play Angry Birds by myself. I was tense and nervous because the night before wasn't a good night for me. All day, people asked me "Hey, are you alright?" and you know how I responded. Someone at our table asked me "Hey, you don't look too good today? Tell us what is wrong." What I did next shocked me because I'm not quick to anger, and I definitely don't get mad when I'm out in public. "Hey NOTHING IS WRONG! QUIT ASKING ME! I'm tired of YOU PEOPLE asking me if I'm ALRIGHT! Just SHUT UP and let me eat IN QUIET!" after that I felt better, but at the same time I didn't feel better at all. I'm sorry if I sounded pretty angry, and I'm sorry if I made your day pretty bad. It's hard when you are trying to hide something, but people want to know if you feel better or not and they keep asking you if you feel ok today and you really don't. It is harder when you are trying to keep something from everyone you know outside your house.

Most of the time when I do get close enough to people to let them in in my life and they release how I'm feeling I never tell them what really happens in my life. I guess you can say that I'm afraid of telling people anything because I'm afraid to get "close". I told my best friend about how things were 3 years ago, but I transferred and I never seen them again. I told my ex how I felt and they told me that "I get to angry, and because I get too angry, I don't need to date them anymore." I told my other "good" friend about this, and they thought that I was "kidding". I can't believe these people sometimes. I know that saying, "If they can't tell when you are serious and when you are joking, they are not your friend" but I don't know what I can say to that. I don't know if that is true or not. Most of the time, my friends know about how "sarcastic I am" and "how I'm very "monotone" (I despise that word! I'm not monotone at all, I'm just tired. Seriously) and how "even if she was sad we would know." but I don't they understand that at all. I'm not saying that everyone thinks I'm this way, but people should take a step back and look at me for what I am, and not what they think that I am. I'm sarcastic because it's my own defense to being picked on for so long (I do know how to use humor to my advantage). I'm "monotone" because you can't here me when I'm excited, heck, I never get excited at school. See me at a debate meet or something, I don't sound bland when I'm doing something that I love. I'm sad; that is true but you know why I don't tell anyone.

Recently, when the days and nights got bad, I took a muscle relaxer and I felt better (it isn't illegal for me, my doctor told me that I'm allowed to take some). When the days and nights got really bad, I've thought about getting "so wasted that I wouldn't wake up on time so that I could skip school the next day to recover, and I'll get wasted the next night so I'll never have to see those people again. Although I didn't do that, I've been having those thoughts more often. I've been getting more risky with myself. I want to get drunk, I want to smoke pot, I want to smoke tobacco so I could just "feel better" but that really won't help me at all because that isn't what I need at all. I need someone to listen. I know that Jack is nice to you if you are nice to him and drink him, and Ben and Jerry are there for you when you need to cry and eat some exotic ice cream. These things are not going to make me feel better at all. Where are my friends when I need them? Because I need them more than I need anyone right now.

I think that I should get a fresh start. Let me take the chance to introduce myself again. I'm a nice person. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm complex. I'm giving. I'm interested in you if you are interested in me. I'm not a freak. I'm awkward sometimes, but if I wasn't awkward, I wouldn't be me. I' get lonely sometimes. I stare at my cell phone and I wonder if I will ever get a text back from the person I texted 4 hours ago. I'm not clingy, I just miss the people I'm with. I wonder if I'll ever be in a “real” relationship. Most of the things you've heard about me are wrong. I'm not that bad when you get to know me. I'm sarcastic sometimes, but that is only when I'm nervous. I'm Captain of the Speech and Debate team. I'm a musician. I record music in my bedroom. I'm afraid to be happy. I’m a blogger. Every night I wish that my life would get a little bet better every day. I collect albums in my spare time. I only had 3 best friends in my life. I cry myself to sleep sometimes. I “really” tried to kill myself once, but I promise that I won't as long as you are here on this crazy, crazy ride with me. I want to know about you. Will you let me know you?

I met my hero once at a chance accident at a concert once. (I think they heard about my blog, and they might be reading this now, if so Hi!). Anyway, she told me "Don't quit playing guitar. Keep playing. Keep doing what you do. If you do what you love everyday then you will be happy wherever you are and wherever you go. If you don't remember anything else, remember this: The world needs people like you, and if you end up leaving, then the world will be sad that you are gone. By the way, I like your shirt!" That quote went through my head right when I had my knife next to my wrist. I waited a few moments, and then I realized that I really shouldn't be gone. There is still a lot of stuff that I want to do and I'm going to put my best effort into doing that every day. If you said that, (you know who you are) Thanks for saving my life.

If you read all of this, no matter how long it took you. Thank You too. Thanks for understanding and reading all of this. I might have sounded somewhat bitter, but trust me, I wasn't trying to do that at all. I was just trying to tell the world how I fell and I'm glad that I did. I know you and you want to talk to me, you probably have my number so text me. I'm always with my phone. If you don't know me and you still want to talk to me for some reason, instant message me on aim: riotxgrrlxamy. I'm always online.



Thanks a bunch.

Letter to my Dad.

I haven't been getting along with my Dad for a while, but I finally got sick of it this week, so I decided to write a letter to him and tell him what was on my mind. I would usually keep something like this to myself, but I thought that you all might be interested in reading it because it is more of that "unfiltered" me that I've been working on. I'm going to just let the letter speak for itself, so here it is.

Dear Dad,

This week should be one celebration, but instead, it is one that is different for me. I have had the worse week at home that I had in a long time. This week, I almost killed myself, and you probably didn’t know. Thankfully, something stopped me and I thought that I would write this letter.

I haven't told you this, but I've been severely depressed for 6 years now and I have been seeking treatment off and on for 3 years. My Mom and I haven't told you about this until now. I thought that I should due to the climate of this week.

Right now, I would like it if you closed out the world for how ever long it takes for you to read this letter and realize how serious this is. I'm not exaggerating anything and I'm fabricating anything, I’m just telling how things were up until this week.

You can't tell it on my face most days, but things aren't the way that they look. Sure, If you look at my appearance, you might say that say that things are fine, but that isn't true. If I push up the sleeves on my hoodie, and look at my arms, you will see lines that are cream colored. They are faded. They are not deep, but each one of these lines is a different scar, made by me. Each one of these lines has a story. Each one of these lines is a different scar. Sometimes I would give myself a scar as a “punishment”, other times I would give myself a scar if I was mad at myself. Other times I would give myself a scar when I wanted to do something more serious, like kill myself. I got the closest I ever did to that on Monday.

On Monday, I just got sick of dealing with my life, and I thought that this would be a reasonable time to just slash my left wrist open and bleed to death on my floor. I took a knife and I started to drag it across my wrist, but butt I stopped although I was slightly bleeding, something told me to stop.

I haven't told you about this because I was afraid of what you would say. The times that I did try to ask for help, you just yelled and took things away from me. But that just increased the pain for me. Because of Monday, I realized that even if I do kill myself, in the future, you have to know the main reason why I would like to die. Please don't find this letter shocking.

You are the main reason why I want to kill myself. You are never there when I achieve something large in my life and when you do, you strike me down or never seam to care. You don't talk to me like you should. Your punishments are brutal. I don't know when you are not. I don't know you.

When I walk up to the podium on any given Saturday, I look at the judge that is jugging my round, I look at my opponent and give them a smile (no matter how serious the round may be), and I look to the coaches sitting in on the round, and I look at the parents that are there too. I don't see you. Last month, I made it to semi-finals at the National Qualifying debate meet, or in other words, I almost made it to the National Debate meet. After the round, I seen the competitors parents give them a hug. I asked myself one question, “Where was my parent?”.

Where was my Dad? Where was he when I graduated Middle School? Where was he when I learned to ride my bike? Where was he when I had my saxophone solo at the band concert? Where was he when I made it to my first final round in Debate? Where were the Birthday Presents from him? Where was he? He wasn't there. You were not there and that hurt.

Even when you did make it, you did one of two things (sometimes both). 1): You didn't care, 2): You yelled at me. The time that you yelled at me at my youth softball game will be forever scared in my memory just like the real scars on my arm.

Who can blame a 10 year old for missing the catch at a youth softball game? I remember you yelling and the tears that were falling down my cheeks. I remember my teammates forming a wall between me and you. I remember the other parents holding you back from me so that you wouldn't hit me. I remember my teammate telling me that things would “be ok” and that I shouldn’t cry because “the days would get better and that my dad would get better too.” But that was a lie.

Two months ago you yelled at me in the car when I was driving. You told me to stay in my lane and if I didn't you would “Whoop my ass with a belt so hard that the teas would stop”. That is what you said to a 16 year old. I remember saying something back that wasn't as harsh, but it fit because I was scared for my life. I ran to my room, looked the door and waited. I came out and you yelled at me and told me to “apologize to you Because I am nothing but a Child and you are he parent.” My question is this “Why should I apologize?” That night, I had a dream that you chocked me to death. I didn't go to sleep after that.

To this day, I don't know why you say the things that you do. I don't know why you don't realize that I'm not an “Out of control Teenager that need to be disciplined”. I now feel like home isn't a safe place for me and I thank God every day that I'm 1 day closer to leaving home. To me, Home isn't where the Heart is, home is where my Dad yells at me.

I don't like holidays at home. I really don't like Christmas. Its the time of the year when the stress from Finals collides with the stress of my family. Its the “go get your mom a present” or “the be grateful for what you have” speech time of the year. Two months ago, I got a gift from you that I didn't ask for (It was the Wii). I was surprised because I didn't ask for it. I recall saying that “A Wii is really cool, I think that I would Like one if I had the money to buy one.” but when I found out that I had gotten a Wii on Christmas, I didn't know how to react. Although I love it now,I didn't then. You told me that “I don’t' appreciate what I have, and that I damn well should because people don't have what I have.”. Although that is true (to a point) I think that you should know that I LOVE everything that I have. I know that. But its a LIE to say that I don't.

I also think that it is wrong to buy me something that I do not want, give it to me with the intention that I'll keep it, and then take it out of my room while I'm at school. I know, you didn't like how how I said things last Sunday; I get it. But I didn’t' like how its my obligation to help you whenever something goes wrong with your technology. I had tonsillitis last weekend. My tonsils were enlarged, I had a fever, I couldn't talk and it felt like my head was being hit with a hammer. Despite this, I had to fix your iPad when I didn’t have the slightest clue what was wrong. It feels like you can't take no for an answer. Why should I help you when I don't know how to fix it? Do you want me to try to fix what is wrong with your technology and mess it up more? If that was your intention, you should have told me that before you yelled at me.

Simply, why would you give me a gift with my name on it, and expect me to use it for school when you are just going to take it from me with no reason? The iPad was in my drawer and not in my backpack because I needed a case for it. I told you when I got it that I wasn't going to take it to school with me because “I need a case for it”. This whole iPad matter is just like like our relationship. You give me something, take it away because I don't have “discipline”, feel bad, and give me something else to make up for it. I'm sick of this.

You probably heard the saying “Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” in my case, it is “Sticks and Stones will hurt my bones, but my Fathers words will always hurt me.” I do not care or do not know if your words are meant to break me down , but you should know that your words do have an impact on me. It doesn't matter if you remember what you say to me when you are mad, I will always remember what you say to me no matter what happens, or what you buy me. Material objects will never make up for the words and hostile actions that are imposed on me.

Sometimes what you say isn't important, sometimes, it is what you do. Actions always speak louder than words, sometimes you don't need to say anything to me, I can just read the mood on your face like a book. It isn't cool to have a father that is predictable one day and not the other. It is like walking on landmines. It would be nice of you were direct with your actions instead of leaving things up in the air.

Because of this, I'm afraid to talk to you. I shouldn't be afraid to talk to you. No one should be afraid to talk to their father. I'd rather look someone 10 inches taller than me and tell them why they are wrong in the Debate arena than talk to you when you are angry. The difference between someone 10 inches taller than me and you is that they aren’t thinking about killing me. The look that you have in your eyes when you are mad is something you need to see for yourself. One of my favorite teachers told me that “If you can't look at yourself when you are mad, then there is no reason for you to get mad at others”.

When I think about it, I don't know how anyone can deal with you when you are angry. Heck, I don't even know how anyone can deal with you. Even better, I don't know how you can deal with yourself. I wonder if you ever think about what you do when you have some time away from people. I think that you should. I can't speak for you, but I know if you think about all of the things in your life and write them down, and pick out the bad ones, you still haven't dealt with them properly. I can safely say this with several people behind me, you need to change.

Think of it this way, if you do not like the way that I act, then you must change the way that you act. If you tell others what to do, but yet still do those same things yourself, then that is a hypocritical action to take. The better action would be to work the areas that are not positive with you, and then take the right measures to fix them.

Again, I don’t' necessary know if you know how you are acting, but I'll be more than happy to tell you some of the things that you do.

1. Wake me up at night by slamming doors.
2. Leaving out trays and plates on the counter.
3. Leaving cups full of ice/drink in places where they would be likely to fall (refrigerators).
4. Not talking to others in acceptable ways.
5. Non acceptable actions while driving, not limited to texting while driving, yelling at other drivers, drifting lanes, tailgating, speeding, etc.

Does this sound familiar to you? It should because these are some of the things that you yell at me for doing. Like I said before, this is a hypocritical thing for you to do. How can you tell me to stop doing these things when you do these things yourself? How am I supposed to stop doing these things yet you do them? Should I yell at you when you do these things to give you a taste of your own medicine? If you want me to change, then you should work on not doing these things. I'll slowly start to change when you do.

But end the end, if you don't do these things, and I don't see any improvement in you, I'm going to ask you to visit a therapist with Me and Mom so we can talk about these things. I see this this way, if we keep things in for too long, then we start to decay on the inside because we can't let out those negative feelings. This is why I started to go to treatment, I got sick of being the way that I was. I couldn't share the things that were going on in my life, and when I did share those feelings with someone, I felt better about it, and then my life started getting better. I know if you were to talk to someone (it doesn't need to be a mental health professional, but it helps) you would feel better when you were done. Hopefully, you will choose to talk to someone about what is going on, because we are all tired of dealing with you and your emotions.

I hope it never comes to this, but if you ever get extremely mad at me again, just think of me on the floor of my room with both of my wrists slashed open and a knife on the floor. Think about it for a while. Do you want me to be here one day and gone tomorrow? Do you want me to be dead? Right now, I think that you do. You seem not to care about me sometimes, and the way that I see it now, you probably wouldn't care if I was dead. If this isn't true, I hope that you do whatever you can to change my mind. Don't wait too long because if you do, then you never know when I'll be gone.

I shouldn't feel this way, right?

It's been a while but I feel like I should write about what's going on.

I'm the new captain of the Speech and Debate team. I won an English award for achievement in Writing. I just finished 3 exams and I have finals next month. I'm now officially nearsighted and I have the glasses to prove it. I don't think that I'm single anymore, but I don't think that I even know any more. I'm traveling around the country in the summer and I'm also slowly waiting for music camp in July. The sad thing is that I haven't told anyone.

Trust me, I really want to tell people about my life, but whenever I do, I think about how I'm "bothering people" and "how they really won't listen to what I have to say." That probably isn't true, but you never know. Its sad because I seriously, want to share the excitement of my life with someone. I just can't go up to one of my friends and tell them "Hey! Look I achieved my goal! Aren't you excited?". When I say that I usually get the "oh stellar! I'm happy for you." and then nothing else happens. You know how I feel about making new friends right? Its easy for me to make them, but it is hard for me to "keep" them if you know what I mean. Its like the "mask" thing I was taking about earlier. I want to come of as a "nice person" because that is what I am, but I just don't feel like telling people about how things really are.

I'm just so complex. I want to get to know people and be friends and tell them about all of the things I been through. But I never get that far. Then, I never really get close to people and then I rely on myself to be my best friend.

Yeah sure, I'm getting lonely again, and I pretty sure that I'm going to get all "sad and stuff" again and feel bad about how I feel, and how I'll "eventually feel better" when I'm done being sad. I hate being optimistic because when I do things don't happen the way I want them to, but the one time that it did happen, I was happy for a while.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know if I'm going to give 100% like I always do, or if I might just slip down to the passing 50% to just float by tomorrow. Hopefully, I won't be an introvert and get angry like I did today.

Life unfiltered.

I don't like to tell people about my "life". The unfiltered "life" that goes on when I'm not out in public, "hiding my feelings" from people to "not make it look like something is wrong. I feel like that I wear a "mask" in public because I don't want people to know what "really happens to my wrist" or why "I'm so angry today". But I decided that I want people to know how I feel. I'm tired of hiding what things are really like, so I decided to share this with you all in an effort to take off the mask.

I bet you don't know that my family is having issues. Well, we've been having issues for a while now, but my parents dont' want to get help (I've been saying that "we need family therapy NOW" for like 5 years now, but no one cares). I try to tell them that I want help, but they always do three things, Yell at each other, Yell at me, or "try to talk about it next week" but it never happens. I want it to happen, but I can't do this alone. Believe me or not, I'm not to blame for this. I'm not a "problem child" or "a child who should have been disciplined more and wants to rebel". I'm none of that. (If you read my blog often, you would know how I am.) If I get one person to read all of this, then I will know that at least one person cares about me.

It is mostly my Dad's fault for the way I am emotionally. He has never felt like a "parent" to me in my life. He has just felt like someone who we live with who doesn't care about me, and cares more about what's on TV or what's for dinner. Physically, my Dad isn't too much taller than I am (I'm 5'4 and a quarter.) but he scares me unlike anything else in the world. I'm really skinny, while he is rather stocky. His job is manual labor, and I sit at a desk, write and learn all day. He shouldn't be scary, but the way he looks at me when he gets mad is something else.  You haven't heard someone yell at you unless you've heard my Dad yell in your face. Honestly, my Dad isn't a person who anyone should mess with.  But why do I stand up to him? Because I'm fearless. (Alright, I'm fearless, but with fears. If I was fearless, then I wouldn't be human would I?)

I stand up to my Dad because he buys things for his car instead of for me. I can't even remember the last "real" Christmas present that he bought for me without my Mom's intervention. I stand up to my Dad because he doesn't care about me. I'm in 3 honor societies that require working your ass off to get into them. I'm in the top half of my class this year. I'm  pretty damn smart. But he wants to tell me that " I need more discipline in my life and need to be hit with a belt more." He tells me that I "don't know anything because I don't know how to respect my elders." I stand up to my Dad because he is wrong. Girls can play Guitar as loud as they want to. Girls don't have to wear skirts, and dresses and wear make up to be pretty. English majors can make it in this world. Writers aren't people who are poor. Punk music is a lot more than just "angry Teenagers that have problems". Crying isn't a sign of weakness. I stand up to my Dad because I have to.

I felt like I would die a month ago. I felt like my Dad was going to kill me. Just because I can't drive very well (I just started 6 months ago because I got tired of people driving me places). To be short, I just got tired of his backseat driving,and told him how I really felt. He yelled at me, but I yelled right back. "I want to be respected. If you wont' respect me, then I wont' respect you. Its that damn simple". I looked him in the eye when I said that. When I looked in his eyes I thought he was going to choke me with his bare hands, and if he didn't do that, he would beat me with a belt until I passed out on the floor of my room. I never felt so afraid in my life. I texted the 2 people who I thought that would care, but one never replied to me, but the one who did thought that I was kidding. I honestly wanted to OD on painkiller and just end everything right then and there. I will never forget this for the rest of my life; I thought to myself "I better end this before he can get to me". I don't know what kept me alive that night.

This isn't the first time that he has overacted. I can remember getting yelled at when I was little for spilling his drink on the floor and crying in the corner because I thought that he was going to "hit me again". I remember him overtly yelling at me when I lost my Softball Championship when I was 9 years old. I remember when the other parents were forming a wall between him and me and told him it was "Just a Game" and "Remember the kids ages! They are young!" I remember crying and running to the car. I remember him saying on the way home "You don't cave in like that. You don't quit. You don't cry." I remember my Mom trying to tell him to calm down, and I remember him telling her to "Shut up". I remember him not showing up at our winter concert in middle school when I had the Saxophone solo. I remember him not supporting me when I wanted to go to art school. I remember him not going to my final round at my Debate meet because he "had to go to work.". I remember seeing him when I got home from the meet telling me that he "wasn't going to work today". I remember him not liking my paintings. I remember him telling me that I was a failure and that I shouldn't' try anything because I'm just going to fail at that too. I remember him not being a parent.

I haven't told anyone how I really feel about my Dad. Frankly, I haven't told anyone how I feel about anything. Not my teachers, not my friends, not any adult, not any family, not any therapist, not any doctor, no one, not even my Dad. (I have told him on occasion that "I think that you should consider how you talk to people sometimes" but he never listened). I should say that I never tell anyone anything anymore because it feels like they don't care about how I feel. Or, they do care about how I feel, but don't do anything about  it later. I don't feel like I'll ever meet the right people and tell them everything in this blog post, or all of the other things that I've been keeping inside.

But I do find those people who like me for me, and want to do do "normal things" with me, like go fun places and talk, but when I start to tell them how I really feel, they always leave, and I always cry. I honestly want to know whats so wrong with me? Is it because of my face? Is it because I get angry sometimes because I don't know what the hell I should do? Is it because I'm lonely and cant find the right people to talk to? Is it because I think that I'm a failure? I honestly want to know. I get sick of peoples sympathy. Its nice that they listen, but I want someone who is going to be here next to me, taking the punches as I take them. It wouldn't be bad if I had a friend who was indeed a "Friend". Someone who is there if I need them, someone who is looking out for me and just want to be ok.

Some nights when I should be sleeping, I think about all the things that should be going on in my life. "Will I ever find someone who likes me for me? Will I ever reach my goals? Will I ever make it in life? Will I ever do anything with my life?" I try not to think this thought, but before it comes, the tears come out. "Will I be alive tomorrow?". Trust me, I'm not being emo, I'm not trying to write this for attention. I'm writing this because I can't keep it in in anymore. Hopefully, someone will notice my pain and realize that I can't take this anymore.

If my "friends" are reading this now, I want them to know that I'm practically dieing inside. I need them now more than I probably will ever need them in the future. I just want you guys to know that I'm not going to make it without your help, so please find me, text me, write me, call me, just do something to let me know that you are not going to let me fall. I don't hear anything back from you, then I'm going to think that you don't care, so I'll stop caring about you. If I don't know you and you **Somehow** found your way to my blog and read this article, I want to say thanks for reading this. If you want to catch up on the back story, then feel free to look around for a while. I just want to say one last thing:My life is crazy, but I'm not crazy.