Tag Archives: life

Because of you..

Because of you, my child has to grow up not only being a minority, but being a minority with baggage. Because of you, I don’t know if I’m the victim of rape, because I never liked you like that, but you were my friend; and you’d never do that, right? You’re in jail, because of you. Sure, she might have lied, but it was your door that she walked through.. Because of you, my child’s never known her father, and because of you I hope she never needs to. Because of you I often forget that she was created by more than just me, because it’s been just me from day one.. Because of You.
Because of you, she’s not an only child, and I don’t know the things they’ll discuss. Because of you, I don’t know how you’ll be portrayed to her, but it won’t be as a father. Because of you, there’s going to be a stigma that follows All of us. Because people ask questions that I don’t know the answers to.. Because of you, there’s an empty space on my child’s birth certificate, and a void I hope we’ll someday fill. Because of you, I wonder how Prince Charming became another devil in disguise, so quickly.

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As A Young Mother…

To say I’m hopeful is an understand. I’m hopeful that when you’re my age, that seeing my name appear randomly on your phone won’t feel like a burden. I’m hopeful that the thought of hugging me isn’t something that make’s you feel uncomfortable.. I’m hopeful, that when you hear a pear say, “I have the best parents in the world!” that you don’t think of me and scoff at how someone could actually love their parent(s) their much. I’m hopeful that when you grow older, you’ll realize that I tried my best, and that everything I do is with your best interest at heart. I hope that you’ll be patient with me, even if you don’t show it, because I’m still learning too. I hope that you never feel like anything less than the greatest part me, because if it weren’t for you, my life may have never taken direction. I hope that I tell you the right things when you need to hear them, and that you don’t resent me for not knowing how/when to say things. I hope that you’re never ashamed of me, and never take the small things for granted. I’m hopeful that you appreciate experiencing things for the first tine, together, as much as I know I will; like Disneyland or maybe a cruise, the possibilities of where I hope we’ll go are endless. I hope that I can push you to do better than I have, that you actually give a damn about school and get good grades. I hope that I never crush any of your dreams and only push you closer to your aspirations. I’m hopeful that your wildest dreams are greater than my imagination, and that you let me do everything in my power to help you achieve them. I’m also hopeful, that you’ll never use my own words against me. But in the end, I’m just hopeful that you wind up happy and that your health is never anything short of spectacular.

 

 

P.S. I claim no rights to the photo below.

mother-daughter-10[1]

I run, and run, and run.

but where do I go when nowhere feels like home?

when my glass suddenly becomes half-empty and the edges begin shattering.

what am I to do? when everything I tried forgetting remains true..

why does my mind tell me things the mirror doesn’t see?

it’s as if everything I believe is untrue, an image I created to believe I’m something better than I am.

although my demons are out to kill me, without them I’d seize to exist.Image

Reflecting on my life, I never really could get it right. There was always quirks and twists. I hate love, and because of such have bad relationships with other people. I will always have mental issues; and although they’re easy for me to set aside most days… They still remain intact. My sanity on the other hand, does not. 

 

Personally, I’m a very stubborn girl. The hardest words for me to say are “I love you” “i’m sorry” and/or “I miss you.” For me to say any of them, you should feel special. Especially when it’s without hesitation, because I could not say those without meaning it. 

Sometimes I get this “fever”

It’s insane, I want a baby. I know I’m being unrealistic, I know it wouldn’t be easy. Maybe that’s why I want one, I need challenge. However, I’m a teenager, I know it’d be a bad idea. My dreams of college? Most likely gone. Unless I did most of it online. I have friends but I don’t see them a whole lot like I used to, my child would be my life and I’d be fine with that. I quit smoking because I want to get in shape… Quitting wasn’t hard, I was never addicted. Getting in shape is a different story. I also know that I’d have to get a job, which I already plan on, but the money would hardly be mine. I want to live my life but it seems so far away. in all honesty, i’m hoping to be on birth control (the kind they put in your arm and lasts 3 years) just so I can have college and let go of my baby desires. Maybe I want one because I want love. I’m not in a relationship, I choose not to be in one. My family is pretty broken, not like we were but we’re far from close. My child would be my love. However, raising a child with no father would be selfish and not something I’d want to do.Image

I’m a whole new breed (part 2)

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Alright, in my last post I stated that this will be about “my history with suicide, my obsession, and who/how I am now).” So, I’m just going to jump into it. Life was crashing for me, I was cutting myself in unusual places (thighs, upper arms, hips, etc.) and wishing I knew someone I could get drugs from thinking they might numb my pain. I was the kid who needed attention so badly, that I tried breaking my own bones. In fact, trying to break my own bones now-and-then started when I was 8 years old and stopped when I was 15. I never succeeded; however, I did get many twisted ankles and badly sprained wrists. I was my own worst nightmare and nobody knew it… Except me. I was a lost soul who had few friends, all of which had depression issues, we all had different reasons though. Suicide was a bittersweet thought to me, I dreamt of a heaven or even hell, because at that point I just wanted a new life. I was consistently asking “why me?” “Where’s god when I need someone, anyone” or “what did I do to deserve to be treated this way” this was all when I was roughly 14 years old. My hardest years were when I was around 13-14, the years that nearly nothing went right for me. I researched ways to kill myself, I told myself the world was better without me. I wrote a million suicide letters in my journal and hid it where nobody would unintentionally find it. I wanted to know things like which way was easiest, which was the least painful, etc. However, it wasn’t enough for me. I needed to know for myself, so I tried holding a knife to my throat… I couldn’t do it. Then, I tried drowning myself… But it was too painful. Eventually, I took a long, fairly soft, belt and wrapped it around my neck with several knots in it. This time was different. I wanted it to be too hard to chicken out of, I wasn’t going to be a pansy this time. Soon enough, I was gasping for air and the room was slowly darkening. That’s the moment everything changed for me, I seen something I had never seen. I didn’t see a God n’or a Demond, I seen a little girl who meant everything to me, my niece. Cheesy, right?   She was like a sister to me and I thought of her like she was my own child even though she obviously wasn’t. I pictured a collage of things actually, like her crying when she found out and feeling the pain I felt the first time I lost someone relatively close to me. I pictured her in her 20’s looking gorgeous, but hiding a small amount of pain as if it were a scar on the back of her heart. I pictured how everyone would react, especially my friends who were depressed enough as it was. I seen it all, but within in the blink of a half-alive eye. At this point, I couldn’t do it; so, I tried getting the belt off my neck. It wasn’t untying, I couldn’t see the knots. Quickly, I rushed to my bathroom, my mirror reinforced how close to being over my life was at that point in time. The person looking at me was white as Casper, her lips were blue and she had dark purple bags under her eyes. This image slowed me down, but only for a moment, I was too determined to never see it again to let it be reality. I swiftly untied all the knots as I nearly fell down from gasping for air so badly. I was alive, but I didn’t want the memory to leave me… I Never wanted to do/see it again, so, like any other 13 year old… I took a pictures of the red lines on my neck. This was what made me be happy, knowing that I’m alive and even though I’m not a big deal, I realized I do serve a purpose. To my surprise, my mother found the picture in an album off my camera. Her reaction sounded like this: “*gasp* Candice, come here” I looked at her unknowingly and replied “yeah?” She looked back getting more angry and said “look at this picture! Is that your sister? God damn it, I bet her boyfriend did this to her. That looks like her hair.” I shyly admitted that it was a picture of me. This was when she snapped, the way no loving mother should, looked me in the eyes and said something along the lines of “what the fuck, don’t take pictures like that, someone might get the wrong idea.” She still has no idea that she was the one with the wrong idea; actually, I’m sure she’s forgotten all about it by now.

 

I mentioned that I’d discuss what I’m obsessed with, but it must’ve slipped my mind. The only obsession of mine that I can think of, is music and art. I love beautiful things; in fact, I made the picture attached to this post. Why I love music so much, is because it’s always been my escape route from life… Even if it’s only momentarily.

 

As for who I am now? I’m a girl who smiles every single day, because i’ve realized that anger is useless and tends to ruin things. I have no respect when for people when they yell or even raise their voice at me, it’s one of the things that still kill me inside. I love people, despite how quiet I can be. I’m not quiet because I’m shy, I’m quiet because I’d much rather listen to the tales told by another. I’m witty, I always know what to say when the time is right. I joke with people, when life’s rough you need a sense of humor. Depression still catches up with me from time to time; the difference? It goes away after a few weeks and I know how to control it. I dress in the clothes I like, even if some people still judge this book by its beautiful and intimidating cover. I’ve learned, and continue to learn, many interesting things and met some extraordinary people… My friends? Have come to peace with themselves too for the most part. However, most my new friends are older than me seeing as they understand when I talk about life. I told a boy my age (he asked me out, I barely knew him, but wanted change and agreed) that I wouldn’t have sex with him because rushing into things in the past resulted in me molested. He laughed and said “so if I have sex with you, you’re going to say I raped you?” I broke up with him literally after a day. I’m also a dreamer, I look at my future often and I’m going to get the gold no matter how hard it may be. I know I haven’t had the worst life, but I will never say my life was well paved… I know now that I can do anything if I want to badly enough.

 

 

Moral of my story: Be happy. As hard as life can be sometimes, it always gets better. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather live my life on a road with ups and downs than an ideal flat boring but “perfect” life.

 

I’m a whole new breed. (Part 1)

Recently, I was asked if I take the road most people take or one of my own. It’s been on my mind consistently soon the hours spent thinking about it turned to days. I’ve come to conclusion! I’ve never been on everyone else’s road. Not since grade school anyways. By the time I was about 10 years old I already knew pain, that was when my parents got divorced. I was happy about the divorce, but the results were enough to scar anyone who would’ve been in my shoes. My reason for being happy was because I thought the fighting would finally stop, words can not explain how wrong I was. In fact, it was just a new beginning to it. It was the start of me seeing things I wish I hadn’t, like getting into a truck with my drunk father who acted like he was going run over my injured mother. It was the start of the countless days where I waited for someone who never came. I was at my dads while he was either working or at the bar. So, eventually, my mother started picking me up from the time I woke up til about 8 at night. My father never knew, when he did know he’d call me to curse me out and demand that I can home. One night, when I was 12 years old and living with my mother, my father asked me to come stay the night. Reluctantly, I agreed. To my dismay, I’d been there alone since the morning and around 10 at night I decided to just go home. He was out drinking, and I knew it. Since then, he has cleaned up his act because he couldn’t stand knowing that his own child hated him. We have a decent relationship now. My mother is overall a good mom, but constantly reminds me “you’re why I’m not skinny” or “your siblings are so good at ___” but when she brags about me? It’s about things that are untrue. Ouch. When I was 15, there was this guy… At first I didn’t like him, he wasn’t attractive and was kind of weird. Eventually, he started telling me things that made me feel special even if I wasn’t the only girl he was telling them to (the other was my so-called-best-friend) this led to me wanting find common interests with him, soon enough, I did like him. Soon enough, I won. He was all mine. I wish I could take that decision back, he was horrible towards me! Not only did he emotionally abuse me, but he molested me. Although, I was too in “love” to do anything about it.

to be continued… (coming up: my history with suicide, my obsession, and who/how I am now)