Without Love, Our Earth Is A Tomb

Feb 14

You Know What? FUCK YOU

Dont expect me to be nice anymore. You want my kindness, you want my friendship? Well some of you are going to be in for a rude awakening. You want me to be there for you guys? Well, how about stepping up and acting like I fucking matter. Because, until I see a reason to consider you a friend, don’t expect me to be anything less then a bitch to you. I’m done being used, abused and hurt. 

Feb 12

I hate you.

I hate the fact that you stole my sanity, made me believe I was a whore, made me want to kill myself, and tormented me for over five months. I hate the fact that you brought back the nightmares, the paranoia, the anxeiety, I hate the fact that you never once, said I’m sorry for fucking me up worse. I hate the fact that you made me into a shell of the person I am now. I hate the fact that you violated me, dominated me, made me feel weak and useless, and then message my friend, asking to be his friend on facebook. 

Most of all, I hate the fact that even after all the hell you put me through, after the months of crying, therapy, and pain, people I considered friends, added you. I hate the fact that everything you made me suffer, is so insignificant, that people who KNOW what you did, still hang out with you. I hate the fact that I am so insigificant to these people, that they can add you as a friend. I hate the fact that you laugh about me, brag about what you did. And I hate the fact that I mean so little to the people that I thought meant something to me, that they can even STAND to be around you. 

And i hate myself. For being so weak that I cant stand up, name you for what you are and send you where you belong. I hate myself for not being a strong enough person to tell people what you did. I hate everything about you, and I hate everything about what a coward I have become. 

Jan 04

Lost again

So here we go again. We’re back together and I love you more then my heart can bear. But as we sat in the tub and talked, I saw hesitation, fear and confusion in your dark eyes. I told you what to expect, the cruelty of humans, their ignorence and blind hatred. Your thoughts were loud enough to be screaming. You mentally screamed “I don’t want this!” And its true. This isn’t your battle to fight. This isn’t your cross to bear. And the first time someone calls you a nasty name, you’re going to get into serious trouble. I love you. So much. But you want the white picket fence with three kids and a dog. I just want to make it through the day. I can’t see this going well. The hatred, the ignorence, the pain that people will cause you, just for loving me. This isn’t something you can just decide. People will always hate what they don’t understand. And nobody has ever understood me.

Dec 17

Another Personal Note…

Let’s just jump right into it, shall we? I have no vendetta against “skinny” people, however I do have a vendetta agianst the belief that one must be skinny to be beautiful. I know alot of people will read this and say “She’s only saying this becuase she’s fat.” Okay, I am chubby. So what? I’m also an artist, a writer, a funny chick and a good friend. I will not deny the fact that I’m chubby, I’m actually quite happy with my weight. And while I recognise that I don’t live the healthiest lifesyle, I smoke cigarettes, drink occasinally and have a borderline addiction to chocolate, but I am happier then I have ever been. 

If you had run into me four years ago, you would have laughed at the thought of me being chubby. I was on the border of having an eating disorder, I was too thin. Now, let me explain the difference between being “skinny” and being a skeleton. The difference is “skinny” can be healthy, skeleton is never healthy. Healthy is having a body that fits your height and weight range. And you can be healthy and be chubby like me. For example, I have wide shoulders and wide hips, courtesy of my Italian genes, so a few extra pounds isn’t a horrible thing for me. 

This is not to say that America doesn’t have a weight issue. The numbers of Diabetes, Obesity, and heart issues are steadily climbing. Mostly, this is because of the high fat diet we consume, fast food, fried foods, foods high in fat and trans fat. The motto to live by, at least in my opinion, is “Everything in moderation.” It’s not going to kill you to have a slice of cake at a family gathering. However, indulge lightly. If you have the cake, eat a salad later, or do some crunches. 

Now, if you know me on facebook, or any other site, you have seen pictures of me. Personally, I think I’m adorable. I’m chubby and cute, with one dimple and bright blue eyes. But I’ve had my share of people comment on my weight. Four years ago, when I was a skeleton, that would have killed me. But I realised, through much therapy and help, that I wasn’t happy being that thin. When your wrists are so small and thin that a rubber band slides off them, you have a problem. At least, it was a problem for my height and weight. 

Some of the people in my life that I would classify as “beautiful” have a few extra pounds on them. And some of them are “skinny”. Like I said before, I have no vendetta against “skinny” people. But the idea that I have to be a size four to be classified as “pretty” makes me sick. I think real beauty in a person is their ability to accept and love their flaws. Yea, I’m chubby. Does that define me as a person? Maybe to some people it does. But not to me, or the people who matter to me.

True beauty is being able to stand and look in the mirror and laugh at the image you see. Because it shouldn’t define you. Your talents, your dreams and hopes should define you.

So the next time you see a “fat” person, like me, look closer. Just because I don’t fit into skinny jeans makes me ugly? I don’t think so. A person is ugly based off of their actions towards others. And a person is beautiful for the same reason.  

Dec 15

Dear You….

Dear you,

This is the letter you will never read. And these tears on my cheeks are the tears you will never see. See, I loved you. You were my best friend, and I loved you more then anything. I guess by typing this I’m trying to move on. But seeing you, watching you walk away from me while I cried, ripped my heart apart. The one I’m with now is different from you in almost every aspect. And yes, I love him too. But the way I loved you was different. You were like a drug, exciting and overwhelming. He’s more like air, you never notice how much you need it until you are deprived of it.

From the moment I laid eyes on you, I loved you. But you were with someone else. So I kept my distance romantically, and we became close friends. I can’t begin to explain how I felt when I was around you. We traded art work, laughed and had a great time. But slowly, I noticed a change in you. You started to slip away from me. 

I watched, as you changed from this bright, intelligent, compassionate man, to a pale, small shell of a person. I tried everything to forget you, but it was hard. I would see you in passing, try and say “Hi” only to be met with a hateful glare. It confused and stunned me, we used to run and hug each other and talk and laugh. I couldn’t understand what had happened to you.

But, on the rare time that you actually spoke to me, I saw a glimmer of the old you. It gave me hope, that you might still be in there. But, alas, after our last conversation, I know I have to grieve you as though you have died.

But honestly, what am I supposed to do if you come back into my life? Am I supposed to just say, “Oh great your not drugged out of your mind, or acting like an asshole to me any longer?” How should I react to you? Because it’s either you get better, or I’ll be dressing in all black for your funeral now. You chose this path, and where does that leave me? I keep moving forward, but it hurts to leave you in my past. Maybe that’s where you belong now, in my past.

I know I love you, but I’m moving on now. You will always have a special place in my heart, and my head will always echo with “Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda.” I wanted to be the girl you could always turn to, your best friend and maybe more. But the person I loved, is long gone. Mentally, I’ve already buried you. Emotionally, I’ve got the shovel and am starting to dig.

So I say goodbye. Maybe, not goodbye, hopefully its an “I’ll see you later.” This time, when you come around, and are yourself again, let me know. Until then, “I’ll see you later.”

Dec 13

A Personal Note…

Lately, I’ve noticed a trend, one that disturbs me greatly. It’s a topic that nobody wants to touch, and I am very apprehensive writing about it. And I know many people will read this and laugh and say “Oh she’s being too sensative.”. Maybe I am, but I still feel the need to speak out. 

The word “rape” has been thrown around very lightly these days. When someone gets into trouble or gets “owned” people laugh and say “Oh he raped you.”. Speaking as a victem of the crime of rape, I do not find this funny. 

Rape is one of the most violent crimes there is. It is not only a physical trauma, but a psychological and emotional trauma. Statistically, one in six women and one in thirty three men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. Take a moment to think about that. Look around where you are. Most likely, there are at least six women around. Think about the fact that one of them could be a victem. 

More frightening statistics. Collage women are four times as likely to be sexually assaulted. The numbers are even more frightening. In 2007 ALONE, there were 248,300 victems of sexual assault. Even scarier, 60 percent of all rapes are unreported, meaning the assailents are free men. And every two minutes, someone is sexually assualted. 73 percent of the victems know their attacker. And becuase of the stimga attached to sexual abuse victems, only 6 percent of rapists or molesters are serving time.

Now, if you actually read all of this and haven’t rolled your eyes, I will share a bit of my story.

Two years ago, a person I trusted, a close friend of mine, dragged me into a bathroom of a public mall and forced me to perform oral sex on him. I was terrified, humiliated and ashamed. He started telling people that I was a slut, so when I finally reached for help, I was shoved away and laughed at. He followed me, turned up where ever I was, and was always touching me. I lived life in constant fear that he would hurt me again. I started drinking heavily, and refused to leave my house. I changed my phone number, but he somehow got it again. One day I got a text message from him, demanding I go out on a date with him. At first, I refused, but he played to my fears and shame. He told me “I’m trying to help you. If people see you with me, they won’t think you are a slut.” He showed up at my house at seven, and fearfully I left with him. He violated me a second time, and I broke down crying. After he dropped me off at home, i turned my phone off for four weeks, locked myself in my room and spent most of my days crying. Every noise was him coming up my stairs, every rustle of wind against my window was him trying to get in and every knock at my door sent me into hysterics. I was placed into a psychiatric facility, where I remained for another three weeks. After I was let go, I went to a place called High Focus, an intensive group therapy that ran from the morning to the afternoon. At first, I refused to speak to anyone about my attack, I was afraid that people would think I deserved it, or that it was my fault. It took me weeks to open up and stop giving one word answers. When I was discharged, people wanted to hug me and I cringed at every touch.

Since then, I have gone to meetings for victems, and began to regain some control of my life. Now, some of you are wondering, “If she’s preaching about how bad rape is why didn’t she stand up and say something?”. The simple answer? I wasn’t ready to face it. Recently, I confronted my rapist, with a friend of mine by my side. He did not apologize, he made excuses and tried to justify his behavior. But, he has not bothered me since I told him I would call the police and tell them everything if he did not leave me alone. I was lucky, I haven’t heard from him since. 

Now, I know this is a long post, please bear with me. The word “rape” is not a joke. And if you can still laugh at it after reading this post, you truely have no soul. So, I ask you a simple favor. For the sake of other victems, who haven’t had the help, support and care that I got, stop using that word as a joke. You don’t have to preach at everyone who says it, but simply smile and say “I don’t approve of that word as a joke.” Will you have the courage to help stop this? I don’t know, but every bit of awareness about this horrific crime is helpful. 

If you know or are a victem of rape or molestation, there are many groups that meet during the week to help you get through this. I encourage you to gain the help and support you need. Please know, you are not alone and you are not to blame for this. I hope I have raised some awareness with this post. 

Dec 12

I Said Yes

You got on your knee, and my breath stopped

Reaching slowly into your pocket, while my heart hopped

My family stopped moving, and they all stared in shock

The only noise heard was the ticking of the clock

With loving dark eyes you held out a ring

Tears stung my eyes, I couldn’t say a thing

In a soft tone of voice I’ve never heard from you

You asked “Will you marry me and be true?” 

My heart sung out and I whispered “Yes.” 

You slid the ring on laying my worries to rest

Now we lie in bed, bodies pressed close 

And I now belong to the one who loves me most.

Dec 12
Who are they? 

Who are they? 

Dec 12
Katan from Angel Sanctuary

Katan from Angel Sanctuary

Dec 12
Another GIR…. 

Another GIR….