NanNoWriMo- Help Me!

It’s that time of year again!

And your favorite author needs help coming up with a plot.

So I’m going to list a few here, and I welcome feedback on my ideas as well as other suggestions. Thank you!!!

 

Idea 1: An expanded version of my short story about a girl who literally drives a guy crazy. I’ll be honest, it was a revenge piece. But it could turn into a decent suspense deal, I guess…

Idea 2: Girl likes Boy, Boy hates Girl, Boy develops multiple personality disorder, and his other personality is Girl’s soul mate. This could be somewhat emotional, and have some interesting twists perhaps… I’m not totally sure, but it’s a start.

Idea 3: A teen-lit piece about what happens when your blog ends up being read by the whole school… but it would turn out much happier than my story.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Lemme know what you think!

A Dose of Introspection

Just some ramblings and thoughts on why I am the way I am.

I think I’m always afraid to ask for help, not because I fear being seen as weak, but more because I’m scared of being let down.

I’m afraid to open up to people because right now, opening up to anyone would involve more emotion and pessimism than anyone in their right mind would want to deal with.

I’m afraid to open up to anyone because I’m afraid that they won’t like what they see, or I’ll do something wrong and push them away.

I don’t trust people getting close to me because the ones who have mattered most are the ones who let me down the worst.

I don’t like myself because I can’t fit into society’s box of conformity and attractiveness, and while I value brains, talent and creativity over body, I can’t help feeling like there’s something wrong with me. I know full well it’s not my fault, but every time I try to shop for clothes and shoes, even hats, it becomes reinforced in my mind.

(Thank Earth for Torrid. My little piece of shopping heaven.)

Every failure I have sticks with me 10 times harder and 5 times longer than any success.

I still remember in 7th grade when everyone called me marshmallow.

Even though I know Gary is an asshole, it still hurt like hell that day on the bus when he told me I looked like a happy California cow. You know, the ones in the commercials. To this day I still wish I had “accidentally” spilled my lukewarm coffee all over his white shirt.

I can’t get out of bed in the morning, because I have no motivation to. I know I need to go to classes, but I can’t move. I sleep for days on end and I’m still tired.

More later, I guess.

On Pills, Regression, And Loss of Faith.

I’m so sick of pills. I hate them all. I hate that I need them to live my life. I hate that I have to be dependent on something smaller than my fingernail to get through the day.

There’s the 60 mg Cymbalta pill, half green, half dark blue, the biggest of all the ones I take. That’s my anti-depressant. It works for the most part, and it took over two years to finally get me on one that didn’t cause me to empty the contents of my stomach every five minutes or one that didn’t backfire and cause me to become more depressed. And I went through probably 75% of the anti-depressants on the market before I got settled, and then of course we had to get the dosage right.

Then there’s 40 mg of Vyvanse, my little ADHD pill, the one that helps me focus and keeps me awake. It’s half white, half sea-green, and fairly small. This was the replacement for the 54 mg Concerta pill I’d been on since 6th grade. I was reluctant to change something that worked, but it was pretty much my own fault since the insurance company wouldn’t pay for any more Concerta after I overdosed on it. That was the most unpleasant night of my life, bar-none. But I digress.

Last, and perhaps least, is the smallest pill, my little round Clonozepam, 0.5 mg twice a day. Once in the morning, with the other two, and again at dinner. This is supposed to be for my anxiety. But quite frankly, it doesn’t do anything at all. But my Psych said I can’t stop taking it or I’ll suffer withdrawals. That’s part of another issue altogether, which I’ll get to momentarily.

And now there’s a new pill. This one won’t last long, and I’ve actually just stopped taking it altogether. It’s called… Trazidone, I think? Something like that. It’s a generic anti-depressant. My Psych says it’s a really weak anti-depressant, but that’s not what I’m using it for. Trazidone is also, more or less, a sedative. The general idea is that it’s supposed to help me fall asleep, to prevent nights like these where I end up staying up all night due to insomnia or fear of sleeping through class. Which has been basically every night for the past month, and counting. Needless to say, it knocked me out. But it also did exactly what I feared it would- it kept me knocked out for 12 hours, and I was exhausted for the rest of the day. So, as per Psych’s instructions, the next night I cut the pill in half. It didn’t work as well putting me to sleep, but I was tired all day today. I’m still tired, but I can’t sleep. I also have a splitting headache, probably withdrawals, even though I’ve only taken the damn thing twice.

Well, at least I can now be fairly certain that the insomnia and anxiety are being caused by my Hyperthyroid condition.

I’ll admit, I almost cried when I found out, simply because all I could think was, “Great, there’s something else wrong with me. What a loser.” Oh, and on top of all of this, I’m potentially diabetic. The blood tests were the kind where you couldn’t eat for eight hours before, and my blood sugar was high. Apparently it runs in the family, hardcore. So that’s great.

It’s times like these when I begin to wonder, what’s the point of trying? What’s the point in fighting all of this shit that keeps piling up? Why bother getting out of bed in the morning? Why keep going? People keep saying it’s going to get better. They keep saying it can’t get any worse. And every day of my life continues to prove them wrong on both counts.

I feel like, when I started college, months of hard work in therapy and months of trying to find the right pills and finally succeeding, all went out the window. I feel like I’m back to square one where my two goals in life are: make it through the day without breaking down, and make it through the day without trying to kill yourself. My parents keep asking me why I haven’t made friends yet. I’m just trying to stay afloat in my classes and barely succeeding. The thought of social interaction, especially with people I don’t know, scares the hell out of me. Just thinking about it freaks me out. I can’t handle basic human interaction. So instead I hide in my room all day.

When does it all end? People keep telling me things will get better, and I really, really wish I could believe them.

But I can’t believe them anymore than I can believe in God. And that ship sailed a longggggg time ago.

I’ve lost all faith in humanity. Read anything by Kozol, or watch the news, and you probably will too. I’ve lost all faith in religion. I no longer have faith in any other human beings, because they’ve all let me down, even my parents. Especially my parents.

But honestly, I can handle all of that. I’ve come to expect that the world is just one great big let-down.

The one thing I can’t handle is that I have lost all faith in myself.

And the thing I’ve learned over the years about faith is that once you’ve lost it, it’s nearly impossible to get it back.

Just Another Blog Post

I’m laying here, waiting for the sedative to kick in so I’ll fall asleep tonight, so I figured I’d update my blog.

Not much has changed. I’m still way behind in my classes, I’m still having fits of depression and panic attacks, and to top it all off, apparently the anxiety and the insomnia are caused by my extreme hyperthyroid condition.

I don’t really feel like trying to explain it, so go to WebMD if you’re that curious.

And all I really know is that it’s causing my anxiety, insomnia, random heart palpitations and racing heart, and if I don’t do something about it I could have a heart attack or a stroke. Woohoo.

Visited Paxon on Thursday. Only visited one teacher, cause there was only one I wanted to see. He was the only teacher I ever had a crush on, and I still have a crush on him. Lol.

Beyond that, nothing of importance happened this week.

So that’s it I guess. I’m starting to feel sleepy, so… Bedtime it is. Hopefully I can get all my work done tomorrow… : /

Blog it out. Part 2.

Reasons why I’m depressed, in somewhat chronological order:

1.  B. R. B. (Yes, his initials are BRB. Oddly coincidental. Huh.) For the very few of you who don’t know (or don’t claim to know) everything about this, here’s the brief version. Or at least, the briefest possible. I’d had a crush on B. since early sophomore year. At the end of sophomore year, he started dating my very best friend. Drama ensued, but he and I became friends. At least, I thought we had. He later claimed he was only friends with me because he was dating her, but I think he was just trying to piss me off. Anyway, he later broke up with my best friend to date my middle school best friend’s younger sister. But when he broke up with my best friend, he said it was because he felt like he was pulling us (me and my best friend) apart. After this, my best friend calls me and says she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. This was the first time I actually tried to kill myself. But that’s not important to the story.

So my best friend hates me, B’s dating someone else that I know, and no offense to her, but she was a total bitch to him. (I only say that, cause she’ll admit it.) Basically she couldn’t handle his emotional baggage, and so she dealt with him by being a bitch to him.

So, she breaks up with him, he spirals into major depression, keeps threatening to kill himself, blah blah blah. (It may seem like I’m taking this lightly, but I’m kind of used to it all by now, so it’s really just a normal part of life for me).

Then comes the day when B decides he’s going to climb up on the roof of the school, intending to jump off. And of course, I get to be the one who realizes something’s amiss, and the only one who sees him climbing up. All I have to say is, thank god for Will and Josh. Anyway, they ran to get help, and I decided to follow him up in hopes of getting him to come back down. However, he’s a 6’3″ heavyset drummer, and I’m a foot shorter with no arm muscles to speak of. Needless to say, I fell down, tore my jeans, and didn’t manage to get up. Then I hear screaming, so I instinctively run over to the noise, and see him standing on the edge of the roof. The screaming was basically a bunch of kids yelling “Don’t jump, don’t do it,” etc. I pushed my way through the front of the crowd and stood there, long after they’d moved everyone else to the gym, long after they told me to leave. I just stood there, staring at him, pleading with everything I had in me for him not to do this. I stood there, until he finally looked down at me and told me to go. I cried for hours, and this pushed me into major depression for most of the rest of my junior year, just when I’d finally started getting better.

I can’t even explain how painful and hard it was to watch someone you cared for very much nearly take their own life. I hope no one ever has to go through it. It sucks.

So, B transfered to another high school, started dating some other girl, and I didn’t see him for months.

Then he broke up with this girl, and we started talking again. This one day he texts me and asks me if I’d consider having sex with him. Me, being a stupid naive little girl, took this to mean that he liked me. So, I ended up having sex with him, wrote about it in what was supposed to be a private blog that somehow ended up posting to my facebook account, and spent the last half of my senior year being laughed at, made fun of, and basically living in hell on earth.

And the best part was, a week after telling me that he wanted to date me, he called me to inform me he was going out with another girl and he never wanted to talk to me again. Hurt much? Oh yeah.

And the also best part was how he made everyone believe that I lied about it, that the blog was fake. And people still believe that. His girlfriend believes it, my ex-best friend believes it, and sometimes I wonder if he might even believe it.

I should also point out that before B, I was a virgin. So I lost my virginity to a boy that denied it, later told me he was using me for sex and didn’t even find me attractive, and broke my heart.

I can’t entirely blame him. I knew his track record. I knew he was an asshole. I guess I was so desperate to be wanted, or at least to believe that someone would actually want me, that I ignored all the obvious signs. But that still doesn’t make what he did any less painful.

So I think it’s safe to say that I’m still reeling over that. My heart still aches when I think about it, or him.

2. On top of the above, there’s the normal ish that comes along with the major changes that come with starting college. I’m lucky that my fam’s only across town, or I don’t even know what I’d do. There’s all this sudden, added pressure of being “an adult” and having to take care of myself and considering the fact that I’m a disorganized mess, this is hard as hell.

3. I quite honestly don’t have any close friends. I have tons of acquaintances, but no friends. I’m too scared to get close to anyone, cause I can’t take getting hurt again. So I don’t really have anyone to open up to. Obviously, or I wouldn’t even be posting this. So I’m kind of on my own with all this. Not that I necessarily want to rely on another person, cause they always get sick of my pessimistic bullshit and that’s that.

4. I’m sick of dealing with all of the above, and more than anything I’m sick of myself. I feel like I’m supposed to be happy now that I’m in college and I’m free. But I’m not a party-girl, I have yet to find more than one person that shares any of my interests and will actually talk to me, and I’m pretty sure the first guy I’ve managed to like that isn’t B is only interested in cute, preppy sorority girls.

There might be some other stuff, but that’s mainly it.

So the question is: What the fuck do I do now?

Blog it out. Part 1.

Alright, time to vent. And time for a little self-honesty. It may not be pretty, but it’s necessary. Let’s do it.

On a side note, this blog is and will remain PG-13 (maybe R for language), and I’m fully aware that everything I write can be read by anyone. You wanna make fun of me for it, you go right ahead. I’ve got nothing to hide.

End side note.

Today is the second day in a row and the (at least) sixth day this semester that I didn’t go to any classes. My roommate has stopped asking questions when she enters the room and finds me still in bed at 3 in the afternoon. Obviously, this is a problem. I can’t keep missing classes like this.

It’s become a vicious cycle. For the longest time I thought that perhaps I was simply nocturnal. But as I delve a little deeper inside myself I think I can pinpoint the cause of the problem.

But the problem with the problem is that I’m not supposed to blame my mental disorders for the bad things that happen in my life. So… in order to identify the problem, I have to… blame my mental disorders. It makes no sense. But then again, nothing in my life ever makes sense.

It boils down to this.
Problem #1: My anxiety disorder is kicking, hard. Part of this is my fault. I’m feeding the fire by remaining disorganized, not writing everything down, procrastinating, and basically keeping the same habits I’ve held for the past four years. So then, surprise surprise, I become overwhelmed by the volume of stuff I have to do, all the things I can’t seem to remember, etc., and my body and brain, in order to combat the impending major panic attack, go into “sleep mode”, literally. I have sudden feelings of exhaustion, and I can’t focus on anything. Basically, I end up having to take a nap before I can think about trying to get anything accomplished. This leads to

Problem #2: Because I nap for several hours in the day, I can’t sleep at night. At least, that’s one of the reasons I can’t sleep at night. I’ll get to the other one momentarily. But yeah, this one’s pretty self-explanatory. I’m fucking up my sleep schedule.

Problem #3: Even if I’m completely and totally exhausted at night, I can’t shut my brain off. I lay there in bed and the thoughts keep coming a mile a minute and no matter what I try, I can’t get my brain to shut off. Music (for once) doesn’t help, keeping the TV on has the exact opposite effect of what I need it to, I’ve tried counting both down from and up to 100, counting sheep, focusing on a one-word mantra, and a slew of other sleep-inducing techniques. I haven’t tried sleeping pills. The last time I had this problem whatever doctor I was seeing at the time had me try Melatonin, which is basically an herbal sleeping supplement-type thing. It worked for getting me to sleep, but, as with most sleeping pills, left me extremely groggy the next morning. And obviously I’m having enough trouble getting up in the morning as it is. So that’s out. Thus, what ends up happening is that I give up on trying to sleep and screw around on the computer until about 3 am, and then my head finally gives in to my exhaustion and I knock out. This leads to

Problem #4: I’m too damn tired in the mornings to get out of bed. Why? See Problems 2 and 3.

Problem #5: The other, more important reason I can’t get out of bed (cause even if I’m tired, I should still be able to force myself up): I’m depressed. Have been all summer, and most of the second semester of my senior year. I’ve been ignoring it, mostly cause I’m sick and tired of dealing with it, but I know now that I have to, or I’m going to keep fucking myself over, which will lead to further depression, and I’ve been down that road too many times. I have the scars and the hospital bills to prove it.

So now that I’ve established that I’m still suffering from depression, I need to establish why. So, I think it’s list time. See you in Part 2.

I’m Done. The End. You Win?

I’ve decided that I’m done with people. Not in the sense that I’m going to become a hermit that lives in the middle of nowhere, but in the sense that I’m done having relationships with people.

Call me a cynic, call me a loser, it’s all true, at least in your eyes.

I’ve given up on trying to start new friendships. After everything that’s happened to me in the past year, it just doesn’t seem worth the effort anymore.

And since I’ve decided to, for once, avoid all ambiguity, let me explain further.
When I refer to the past year, there’s a lot of event that come to mind; the ones everyone knows about and the ones that no one knows about.

The blog thing this past spring was my fault. I got overly-confident that I had control of my corner of cyberspace. I don’t need to point out how big of an illusion that turned out to be.

But it wasn’t the blog itself, and the fact that everyone knew my innermost secrets and far more of my anatomy than I’d ever have divulged willingly; it was the reaction. The backlash of extremely immature people who had just arrived at open season on the hunting grounds, and I had a big red X on my back.

If working on the Obama campaign restored my faith in humanity, the aftermath of that blog killed it beyond repair. Oh, it wasn’t just students. TEACHERS were making rude comments to their classes. Yeah, you guys think I don’t find out about that stuff. Or at least, you don’t care.

But after being mercilessly teased and taunted to the brink of suicide, I have no desire to interact with people that immature.

So that’s part one. But parts two and three are by far more important.

Part two- Brandon. Enough said.

But seriously, this was again my fault. I kept putting my hand back in the fire, thinking that maybe it wouldn’t burn so bad this time. I’ve dealt with that and moved on. The part that’s important now, though, happened months ago.

Long story short, the boy I was practically in love with said he wanted me to be his girlfriend, told me how much he liked me, etc.

Two weeks later he was dating another girl and told me to never talk to him again.

Now, let’s all bear in mind that I have an incredibly low self-esteem.
I honestly didn’t think it could get any lower until this happened.

And now I quite honestly don’t trust anyone. Especially not with something as fragile as my heart. Chances are they’ll just break it anyway.

Which brings me to part 3:

Sam, Ana, Heather.

Yep, I called you out.

Ana- I don’t even want to get started. You have to be one of the biggest hypocrites I’ve ever met, and it’s sad that I found someone that can put my dad’s hypocrisy to shame. That’s all that needs to be said there. You weren’t around most of the time, so I guess I should be glad that you were just a minor pang.

Heather- In a parallel universe where Brandon didn’t exist, we’d be best friends. I probably seemed like a freak for the few days we actually did talk, but it had been so long since I had connected with anyone, and I was so desperate to feel it again that I let myself open up and connect with you. That was, again, my mistake. But it taught me one of the most important lessons I’ve learned- if you don’t open up, you’ll never be let down. So thanks for that. I’m sorry you didn’t believe me, and I’m even more sorry for what I did to you, but most of all I’m sorry that Brandon’s a total douche. Hides it pretty well, doesn’t he?

Last, but most certainly not least-

If I ever had a shot at having a real, life-long, one true best friend, you were it. You were my sister. You were my world for a year and a half. And you probably broke my heart more than Brandon ever did. I don’t know what I did now, though I have some guesses. But what’s important is, I trusted you. Over and over, I trusted you, because I kept waiting for sophomore year to repeat itself, for everything to be good again. And what’s sad is, we never got that chance, you and I. We could have it now, but I don’t know where you are, and at this point I’m not sure I care to know.

Because I’m done opening up to people just to be stabbed repeatedly in the chest. And quite frankly, I’ve been hard-pressed to find people that aren’t still caught up in the spirit of petty high school drama.

I just can’t express how tired I am. I’m tired of being let down, of being lied to and led on and back-stabbed and whatever else. It’s too much energy trying to keep up false pretenses, and I’m not ready to risk the heartbreak that will inevitably come with the real deal.

So I’m done.

For now, I guess I’ll stick to myself. I talk to myself so much anyway, it’s almost like there’s actually someone listening.

Yeah, I’m probably crazy. By societal definitions, talking to yourself and being a loner are sure signs of insanity.

Then again, societal norms always fuck me over.

Just like people.

Go figure.

No, despite the tone, this is not a pity party. This is me, saying that I’m done.

And to everyone who I was up against: Ana, Heather, and most especially Brandon and Sam, you win. Congratulations. I’m done, I’m gone. Not just with you, but with everyone. As much as I care for you all and want you all in my life, I’m done. It’s over. I know you don’t care, and you probably won’t read this, or respond to it if you do happen across it, so I’m saying this for me.

Whatever lesson you were trying to teach me, whatever punishment you were doling out, congrats, it worked well. You’ve pretty much worn me down.

And to the general public, please do not mistake my resignation for sadness. Am I sad things turned out the way they did? Yeah. Do I feel hurt and betrayed by the only people I ever cared about outside my family? Hell yeah.

But I’ve accepted it. And now, since they don’t seem to want anything to do with me ever again, I move on. I’ll always be sad, but I’m not gonna let it stop me from at least attempting to live my life well.

Because living well is the best revenge.

An Update From My World of Fandom:

Currently working on:

-Giving Up, Giving In (NCIS, McNozzo Slash)
In which Tony becomes suicidally depressed after Director Shepard’s death and Tim tries to put him back together again

-And Then There Were Two… (HP, Gen)
A what-if in which both Harry and Dudley receive Hogwarts letters. Haven’t gotten too far with this, having trouble deciding where to take the story. Not sure if I want Evil!Dudley or not. He is manipulative… hmm.
-Welcome to Life (HP, Draco/Ginny)
A What-if in which Draco takes Dumbledore’s offer for protection at the end of book 6 and eventually ends up with Ginny
-Tapestry (Ginny/ Draco & Ginny/ Harry)
Ginny is old, retells life story to grandchild, involves Draco/Ginny pairing, but she still married Harry… not sure how that’s going to work out plot-wise, it’ll prolly be a bit Titanic-esque, as much as I want to avoid that, cause killing Draco off is too cliche. lol

Ideas for later:
-Something with a Hermione/Seamus Pairing
It popped into my head. Cause I like Irish accents. lol
-More McNozzo
Cause for some reason I like this pairing and there isn’t enough out there. C’mon fellow FanGirls, get your slash on! And by that, I DON’T mean more Gibbs/DiNozzo. I still fail to understand that pairing. Or any Gibbs slash pairing. He just can’t be gay. I can’t rationalize that out in my mind. Tony and Tim? Hell yes. Gibbs? Hell no.
-A Modernized Breakfast Club
Self explanatory. May end up in script format. Not sure. Even though this doesn’t include any canon characters whatsoever, it still goes in the Breakfast Club section because the story line is the same. More or less.

-An HP Breakfast Club
Also self explanatory. Not sure which characters to include. Maybe not Harry, but Ron and Hermione as Andy and Claire? Definitely Draco as Bender, Neville as Brian, perhaps Luna as Ally. Dunno. Still working on it.

Just another Pleasant Valley Sunday…

This is what I get for getting lost inside my head again.

I swear I bring this shit on myself. I am my own plague.
And no, before you ask, I didn’t take my antidepressant today.

So, there.

I’m listening to the girls in my hall running around in a frenzy cause they’re getting ready to go out clubbing.
I’m not upset that I wasn’t invited. I haven’t been the most social person on the hall, so it’s not surprising in the least when people don’t invite me to go do stuff. Like I said, I bring it on myself.

True, I could have easily asked to tag along. But I didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Because they were already dressed and made up, and they looked so pretty. Hot, I guess, would be a better word. Short dresses and skirts that me and my thighs would never be able to pull off without making people want to gauge their eyes out. Perfectly straightened hair. I could never get my hair to cooperate like that.

I just don’t see the point. No one would ever notice me in a crowd like that, except maybe to poke fun, or feel sorry for me. I’d be the ugly tag-along. Yep, that’s me. What did Gary used to say? Something about me looking like one of the happy California cows from the cheese commercials.

So I will once again remain alone in my room.
Maybe write more poetry. Not that I’m good at that either.

Somedays, I feel like I’m not really good at much of anything.
Especially this thing called living.

“Despite what everyone says about you…”

An incident occurred the other day between me, someone from my past, and a third party. The third party was actually far more a part of it than the person from my past, who we’ll label X. Third party= Y. So Y has become close to X, who used to be a fixture in my life until a bunch of crap that’s not worth discussing and was mostly X’s fault split us up. (X might disagree that X is to blame, but it really is X’s fault.) Anyway. X and Y are now close. Well, I’d never really known Y before, and we started talking, and I discovered that Y was really cool and we had a lot in common. I felt like Y was someone I could really become good friends with. Well apparently X didn’t like that I was talking to Y (why? I don’t know), and made it quite clear to me that I should never talk to Y again, and also said that Y didn’t like me. Y denied this fact later, but also said that we shouldn’t talk because Y didn’t want to end up in the middle of whatever was going on between me and X. Needless to say, I am rather put out by this turn of events because I was quite excited about my new friend. (Yep, I’m lame.) But Y also goes on to say that Y never really intended to be my friend, Y just thought I needed someone to talk to (wonderful, now I’m a charity case), and Y didn’t realize I was such a cool person, despite everything Y had heard about me.

Wait- WHAT?

And there it is, ladies and germs, a wake up call from my former life, brought to you by our letter of the day, Y.

By now I’m sure you’ve either stopped reading or you’re thinking to yourself that I’ve completely lost whatever small piece of sanity I still had to my name. I’m not. I just had a revelation.

I suppose any normal person would be disturbed by that line- “despite what everyone says about you”. Unless, of course, you like being the center of attention. In which case you probably love hearing it. Well, “despite what everyone says about me”, I loathe being the center of attention. I hate large numbers of people paying attention to me. It’s worse than being in a crowded room, and if you’ve ever seen me in a crowded room, say, the PSAS auditorium, you know I don’t handle it so well. Panic attacks and that sort of thing. But somehow with everything that happened to me earlier this year (and if you don’t know, don’t ask), people somehow got the idea in their heads that I embarrassed myself on purpose to gain attention. This irks me beyond belief. I basically get trapped in a corner where I either defend myself by admitting that the extremely embarrassing event occurred, or I say that it didn’t occur and come across like a liar and an attention-whore. It was my ultimate catch-22. I’m either a pathetic slut or a lying attention-whore. And of course, people never bothered to actually ask or inquire about the real series of events. As people generally are, they were all content to simply draw their own conclusions, or better yet, twist my words and make up lies just to spice an already flaming hot situation up a bit.

I say all that to point out that what Y said makes perfect sense. That “despite what people said about [me]“, I’m actually a really cool person. And it makes sense because so many people who have said things about me in the past few months never knew me at all, so what they were saying was mostly bullshit. But if one were to actually bother to talk to me and attempt to befriend me themselves, then they would discover that I am nothing like the rumors suggest. And from what I’ve heard, the rumors suggest quite a bit.

The revelation was, oddly enough, something I’d already known. It was just something I had yet to accept. It was this: Despite what has been said about me, I am still me. I am still a good person with a kind and caring heart, I’m still the shy, quiet girl who hates being the center of attention and can’t stand being in large crowds, the same girl who has so much to share with the world. Rumors may damage a reputation that was previously non-existent, and twisted and cruel words may change my appearance in the eyes of others, but I myself have never really been altered. And once people actually stop and take a look, they’ll see it too.

And if you’re still looking for answers about what happened, you can s0d off. Because I’m done answering, and apparently all the other party involved does is spout lies. So I guess technically you could go ask him and assume that the opposite of what he says is the truth. But it’s honestly not worth the time. Everything that kid touches ends up broken.

I think what was most disappointing out of the other day’s events wasn’t the loss of a potential close friend, but an addition to the list of reason why I shouldn’t trust anyone but myself. I don’t want to become that person, the one who can’t be friends with anyone because they can never open up. But a person can only take so much lying and rejection, you know? It bothers me that this happened right before I go off to school to meet an entirely new set of people. It’s bad enough that there will be lots of them, I will hardly know any of them, I’m on my own and I’m still trying to get my emotional issues under control. But now I’m mentally on guard, because I’m afraid that the next person I try to get close to will just let me down or hurt me again. It’s happened to me too many times to count. I understand that everyone is human and everyone will invariably let you down at some point, but I have yet to know anyone who has made up for it. I know people who were friends for their whole lives, at least, through high school, and I don’t have a clue how they did it. The girls that were like sisters to me not once, but twice dropped me on my head. And the second time was right after we had finished mending after the first time.

So here’s me going, what’s the point? What’s the point in bothering with people if all you get in the end is pain and heartbreak? I keep waiting for there to be something more to it than that, but I have yet to see it. I hope with all my heart that college will be different, better, than middle and high school were. Part of me thinks that it has to be better. The other part of me is afraid that it won’t be. And I honestly don’t know what I’ll do if it isn’t.