So not to be creepy or anything...

But I dreamed about you last night. Yep, it's awkward for me, too. I've had quite enough of trauma with you in person and over the phone that it really sucked when you showed up in my nightmare last night.

It went something like this:

Setting: a deserted, shadow-covered alleyway; graffiti (insulting ME, thank you very much!) splashed over Dumpsters, coloring rotting brick walls, gracing the old pavement. A huge chandelier hangs suspended overhead (I don't know why! I'm not a therapist!! You want to know, do the research!) I'm walking through it, calling out your name.

Me: Briaaaaaaaaaaaan! Briaaaaaaaaaaaan! BRIAN! Get your ASS over here!!

You: Yeah? (lounging on top of a Dumpster, a spork dangling out of your left hand) What's wrong, Katie?

Me (incredulously): What's wrong? What's WRONG?! I've been looking all over for you! Where the hell did you go off to?

You: Calm down already! I went to go get the Special Edition Pacific Rim. They were selling out and I had to have it. Obviously.

Me (indignantly): Well, excuse me for caring about your safety over your movie tastes! Why would I ever have thought you were in danger? Oh, silly me! I should have known all along that you were just putting yourself first, going off to do who-knows-what and not tell anybody about it so that at LEAST we knew--

You (stepping nearer): Yeesh. It's time's like these when I wish you'd just turn into Maya. Maya never got on my case like this--

Me: Well, that's lovely, jackass! Why don't you go ride off into the sunset with your precious Maya and then leave me alone? I'm sure she'll be very sympathetic when you go and get yourself killed and don't tell ANYONE where you went off to!

You: Would you just stop with this whole 'you're gonna get killed' stuff? It's getting on my nerves. I'm not gonna die, God!

Me: Okay, fine. Go ahead. Go be Prince Charming and you guys have fun. Don't come running back when she's broken your heart.

You (shocked): You're so mean, Katie! What, you think MAYA'S going to break my heart? Of course not! She's the sweetest, prettiest, most amazing--

Me: UGHHHH! Shut up already! If it wasn't already bad enough I'm getting in trouble because I value your safety now I have to hear about your goddamn obsession with her.

You: You're jealous, aren't you?

Me (scoffing): Me? Jealous?! Never! I simply know what'll happen--I've seen it before--and I don't want to be here when you get your heart broken. Maybe not today, maybe not this week, maybe not this month. But sooner or later she's going to hurt you deeply, and you'll get upset with me because I didn't try hard enough to warn you away. (Pausing) But funny thing, Brian: I'm starting to not care anymore. If you don't care enough about your own emotional stability to heed what I'm saying, fine. But don't expect me to sympathize with you when she stabs your heart clean in half.

You: She won't. She'd never do that!

Me: Fine, then. It's your decision; I can't MAKE you do anything. I just hope Flop Junior is relationship-savvy enough to coax you through when it happens. (Puts hands up) Go on, then, Brian. No one's stopping you from leaving.

You (hesitating): Look, maybe I--

Me: It's okay, Brian. I know. I got on your case and you want to be left alone. That's why I'm leaving.

You: Wait! You're...leaving? Why?!

Me: Because you can't have a happy-ever-after with me here, can you, silly?

You: No, that's not...that's not it.

Me: Isn't it? It is, hon. But no worries, I'm sure Maya will fix everything for you. (Waves goodbye) Have fun!!

I disappear and Brian is standing there in the alleyway, alone. The dim light bulbs hanging from the rotting street lights start to go out one-by-one, and a few seconds pass before the last one finally blinks out, encasing the street in darkness.

ARGHH! What've you done?!

Little Things to Be Thankful For

I'm thankful for the fact that as of right now, I am completely, 100% alive. Want to know why? I just looked up the average rate of people dying per minute in the world, and well, it's A LOT. Be thankful for every moment you spend alive, while others are dying in painful or natural ways all around you.

Well, on that *positive* note, I think I'll sign off, you know, at the risk of sounding cynic.

Who am I fricking kidding? I am the Queen of Cynicism. I think it might have been a part of my DNA when I was born. Hmm, I'll have to check with Mr. Gardner tomorrow.

Au revoir,

Queen of Cynicism (who, p.s., can't pretend to be French to save her life.)

"I love you"

Oh yeah? How can you *love* someone when you're only what, fifteen, sixteen? I don't understand it. Maybe I'm ignorant. Maybe I choose not to believe in such a thing. And maybe, if I'm honest with myself, maybe I don't want you to.

Don't get me wrong, I don't love you in that way. And I know you're a strong, independent (well, mostly), 'I take no bullshit' guy. I get that, and I respect it as well. But, come on. I know you, and I know for a FACT that you don't need some airhead girlfriend to 'boost your self-esteem.' (Even if said girl isn't that much of an airhead.)

Okay, well, maybe I should just come out and say it; it's not going to come out any other way, is it? Sigh. You like her. Yeah, she's my friend. Yeah, she's nice. She's smart and cool and funny and real likeable. Great. You know what else she is? She's emotionally damaged, totally on a roller coaster of emotions. She's also got secrets that can really give you a run for your money, and as if that isn't enough, she's in a bad enough place that even though she knows it's wrong, she could still...well, take advantage of your vulnerability.

Seriously? You're vulnerable all because you don't have a girlfriend? As your unofficial 'little sister' I can tell you right now that's bull shit. BULL SHIT!

And as for my statement made above, I'd like to elaborate on it. When I said you-know-who was 'emotionally damaged' that wasn't--well, it wasn't supposed to be--meant as an insult. By any means. Because let me tell you something, bro. I'm emotionally damaged for Pete's sake! I'm pretty sure everyone is, at least at some time in their (hopefully) long life. I could go into everything about my *sob story* life that sucks, but I'm working on all that positivity crap, and so I'm not about to delve into terrible moments that makes the darkness flood back in. My point is, you know all about what's going on with her, so why the hell are you pining after her? I love her, sure, but I also love you, in that really close-friends, I-know-what-you-were-doing-last-night way. I don't want to mess that up. It's no good for you, and for that matter, it's no good for her, either.

So why can't you just fucking let it go already? I know she doesn't like you that way, so for the love of God, just find someone else.

Of course, being the stubborn but lovable brat you are (AHEM!) you won't listen to me. Fine, then. And even though I'd love to say I won't be here if and when she breaks your heart, I know I will.

So, on that extremely happy note, I have one last parting gift: haven't all your hospital experiences and Victor School experiences taught you that dating another crazy person is a terrible thing to do? Not to mention completely idiotic?! We're in that school for a reason, hon, and even though I love my school more than most anything, we're not there 'cause we're normal.

Then again, what the hell is normal? Normal starts to seem like an insult, doesn't it?

You have to help yourself before I can help you

You know what I hate? I hate when someone says, "Oh, don't worry about it. It's totally fine!"
Even when it isn't. It's just another way of secretly saying, "You hurt and upset me, but I'll just pretend it was okay so we can move on with our lives."

Really? Really, you thought you could just shake something like that off and pretend it was nothing? Try and save yourself the emotional pain?

Hell, while you're at it, you might as well sell your voice to Ursula, too. Maybe then you could express your displeasure and hurt to me in a different way. Instead of just writing it off like it was nothing.

News Flash! I've learned the hard way that things never just 'go away.' They just don't. It's a proven fact, like that Daddy Long Legs aren't poisonous to humans and that bears are carnivores.

Alternatively, hard, difficult-to-explain-and-understand issues are the reasons (or parts of them, anyway) that we struggle in life as we do. Waving problems away doesn't get rid of them, not for a minute.

No. It just prolongs the suffering. The pain. The emotional and mental and even physical heartbreak.

So my question is, what are you waiting for? Why don't you just tell me? Nothing can get worse at this point...nowhere else to go but up, right?

I ask you this: why, when you can end the suffering, do you still choose to feel pain?

Solitary Silence

How is it that such a loud background can make me feel so very, very, very empty? All these words ratchet off my body, pinging here and there, but never seeming to reach their final destination. Even in a room full of people, I am only a fragment of an existence. If a puzzle is missing a piece, and you can only find a half of one, where do you go from there? Do you find its counterpart and glue it back together? Or does there come a time when you have to say to yourself, "You know, maybe I should just give up. It's not worth searching and taking time out to locate it."?

Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I can dangle off the cliff and not want to jump and end my life. Maybe being crazy isn't the greatest thing, after all. Maybe it's the reason why I've reached this stalemate. It's like a diabolical game of checkers: the red and the black are stuck in a position where neither one can make a move.

Personally, I hate the ways events happen. I hate how I react to them. Most of all, I've decided maybe being out of control isn't a joyride. Maybe it's a free ticket to an insane asylum. And let me tell you, that's nothing like Disney World.

That Kind of Day

I love this song to the ninth degree and beyond. I may not be depressed, but you don't have to be depressed to want to listen to "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane.

How I imagine myself while listening to this song:

It Hurts to Watch

It does. I can't see her face or hear her voice or imagine her in my mind without breaking down inside. So broken, so utterly defeated. Like the stump of a tree left when everything else has been taken. I don't know what to do, so here is this: I love you oh so much, and I have faith you'll survive this ordeal. And if you don't, just know I'm here for you, when those tears finally fall.

Poems Inspired by Singers (Part 1)

Chasing the Sun--Sara Bareilles

Empty tombs surrounding the peaceful resting place,
We are told to make the best of our time on this earth,
And so we do.
To waste what life we have left,
Is a crime unforgivable,
Think of those whose lives have been so unfairly stolen,
Only half begun,
They left us too early but for now
We must content ourselves with living for them.
Try to be your best self
And see how happy you'll be,
At the end of the day,
When the sun sinks below the tombstones,
And the night is creeping in,
Remember those who have passed,
And in doing so open your lungs,
Breathe in the life surrounding you,
And be thankful for every day,
And the fact that you can wake up with your eyes wide open.
You are living and so live you must.
You must chase the sun.

This Ain't Goodbye--Train

Waving goodbye to the one who I'd loved
Brings sad reminders of the cherished times
Before they had to leave,
Leave me in their unspoken trail of tears.
They left without a word,
So cruel and unforgivable,
Walking out of my heart
With nothing more than a silent nod.
I tell them I'll see them again
And they placate me with their ploy,
Their ploy that someday we might rejoice,
But even I know deep down inside,
Just how much of a lie it really is.
Say what you want to,
But everyone knows that in the end,
The words said aloud are much less important
Than the shadows hidden along the way
To heartbreak.

King and Lionheart--Of Monsters and Men

Unheard of monsters prowl the streets,
The witching hour crawling upon the weary innocents.
They go about their business,
Unaware of the dangers awaiting them in the dark.
How oblivious they must be,
Walking straight into the belly of the beast.
Then again, stolen loved ones,
People separated by unjustified boundaries,
The citizens the prey,
And the oppressive creatures,
Who slither and writhe along the dirty streets.
Streets that once used to belong to people who
Lived there,
People who had a safe haven, a place of peace and rest.
Whatever happened to serenity,
To human decency replaced by the darkest corners of the mind?
To courage turned away from in favor of bypassing bravery?
A city of weakness,
Of evil and mystery and shrouded shadows.
Is this what our human race has become?
A place that barely holds on to its morals?
How sad, how disturbing
That it took only the whisper of suggestion
To sway the minds of our human counterparts,
Towards a cruel, unbreakable entity?
I'd rather die.

My. Friends. Drive. Me. Nuts!

Okay, I love my friends to death, but after a while I start to...spontaneously combust. Or I'm getting there, at least. Like last Wednesday one of my friends called me at ten something-or-other, crying and saying how they'd told one of my guy friends that she liked him and that he was supposedly dating someone else and how blah, blah, blah, blah AGHHH!

Yep. That pretty much sums up how I'm feeling right now. And I'm thankful for them, because they help me get through a lot of my hard times, but...I don't know. I'm high enough maintenance myself; I don't need them, too!

Sigh. It's a good thing I'm lazy today, because if I wasn't I think I might be able to write a biography titled, "Confessions of a Whiner Who Whines About her Dramatic Friends."

Hmm. Maybe shorten the title? Something to think about, I suppose.

Directionless Direction

Lying on my bed staring at the stars,
Wondering about my future.
So unclear, so foggy and terrifyingly undefined,
I find myself breaking under the pressures,
Of living like I know what's going on.

I watch the strangers walk in and out of my heart,
Throwing it away like a disposable garbage bag.
Is that all I am, a piece of trash that was so neglected,
So neglected, in fact, you couldn't be bothered to throw me away?
What have I done to deserve this?
Is this my questionable punishment,
Solitary confinement in a space of dismal hatred?

If I could choose my fate,
It sure as hell wouldn't be in the hands of someone as cruel as you.
I'm just a decoy,
Possession of the person I trusted most.
Bait for when the time comes when you choose to screw me over.

Why do I feel so surprised,
So betrayed?
Setting myself up for heartbreak in the beginning,
I should have known better,
And obviously I haven't learned a damn thing since I first met you.
You've taught me much, though,
How to put up my defenses and block out the insults.
It isn't so easy,
But you'd think I'd have known that by now.

Slow to pick things up,
Slower to leave them behind and make up for the mistakes of my past.
You laugh silently,
At my inability to learn by experience and move on.
But no, I'm stuck in this labyrinth of guilt, confusion, and abyss of uncertainness.

Locked up,
You threw away the key,
I rattle the bars of my cage, cursing you,
When all I get in response is a cold, unresponsive silence.
You're here,
Even when you're not,
And I cannot erase your presence,
Even though I'd like to not only erase you
But kick you out of existence.

If only things could be so simple!
But alas, life doesn't work that way.
Can't believe my stupidity sometimes,
And I'm lucky not to have died by now.

Funny thing, though:
You abandoned me,
Yet every single waking moment is spent
Agonizing over your every move,
Wondering if I can live in your everlasting shadow.

The simple answer,
Lies beneath the pile of lies and half-truths,
But it is impossible to sift through
The weight of your deception.
Thought by now I'd have left you hanging.

Guess I did not pick up on the message
I'd received fifty thousand times before.

Sad how unsurprised I am.

Scrambled

So today someone told me, "You're a retard." Yep. Pretty much. A couple of years ago, I'd be really upset; you know offended and so sensitive I'd be about this close to crying. Now, however, I just laughed in their face and said, "Pfft. Try harder next time to insult me."

One problem down, only fifty thousand, eight hundred and seventy left. No biggie.

In reality, I want to squish myself under a rock and hopefully die there. No, I'm not suicidal. (Thank the lord for small miracles! I don't think I could take a personal death wish at this time, or really, ever.) Yet I'm so close the edge of uncontrollable insanity I'm sort of scared to really explore. Because let me tell you something--once you fall off the cliff, you can't climb back up.

I'm not talking from personal experience, but you meet enough crazies during your lifetime you start to turn into them. But it's okay, right? Crazy, unpredictable psychopaths aren't anything to worry about, obviously. Just as long as they aren't armed they're probably harmless.

Probably. But just give them the weapon check to be sure.

I suppose the point of this post is to talk about how terrible my life is right now. Okay, so not life-threatening terrible, just terrible enough to make me want to pull my hair out (and it's working! I woke up this morning with a chunk of my hair in my hand. Yeah--disturbing).

Why is life so kind and giving to the undeserving and so cruel and unjust to the people who deserve the good things? No, instead we get the short end of the stick, the losing side of a stalemate game of tug of war. And no shit, we're losing. Or maybe I should say I'M losing. It's frustrating after a while. What am I going to tell my friends when I get bald by sixteen? What then? Just call me Katie the Hairless. Sort of like Michael Jackson being called Wacko Jacko, except this time I'm blessing myself with the unflattering nickname.

But that's my life, so it's nothing new. I'm used to it. But even though it's not a surprise when I wake up with fricking huge zit on my forehead or walk into English class forgetting my essay, I can't say it doesn't bother me. HOW DOES THIS WORK?!

And it's funny, because in my public school I was the brunt of all the 'retard, weirdo, crazy psychopath' jokes and now, at my crazy, this-close-from-mental-institution therapeutic school I'm considered normal.

That's right. Normal. As if such a thing were even humanly possible.

Have you ever been embarrassed for someone? It's the worst feeling in the world. Because see, when you mess up or make some terrible blunder, it's okay, because you know what you did wrong or what you did that put you into said mortification scenario and you can, technically, fix it or not do it the next time.

Now with another person who puts themselves into a cringe-worthy situation it's different. You can't scream, "You stupid idiot!! You don't say that!! Go to Wal-Mart and buy a filter, would you?! You are driving me insane with other person-induced embarrassment." I. Hate. It.

I'm not a mean person, but I hate watching other people make a fool of themselves and either not notice or know what they're doing wrong and don't care. But this person...in the middle of Biology first period he started breaking into some weird rendition of who-knows-what, and made some weird comparison to a cell membrane that somehow relates to a character in Super Mario.

Um...what?! How do you make that leap? Cell membranes, in case you didn't know, are a part of a cell that acts like a defensive wall. Mario in Super Mario apparently relates to a cell membrane because some weird creature jumps out at Mario at one point.

I don't normally swear, but...what the fuck?!

I have to look away or bury my head in my hands. I just wince whenever he opens his mouth. How can someone be that fricking oblivious?! It shouldn't be possible! My guy friend, Brian, gets understandably pissed off, and while I get it, I also want to diffuse his easy-to-make-appear temper that easily flares the second said guy opens his mouth. He can't make a single comment or movement or action or behavior that doesn't set Brian off.

Sometimes, though, I wonder if it's a lost cause. Maybe the Human Microphone will learn faster if I unleash Brian on him.

Tempting, but I'm too nice. God dammit. Maybe I should take some First Class Bitch Lessons from the (shh!) Mental Institution's most well-known female dog.

Nope. Can't do that, either. What's wrong with me? Wait, stupid question. I think we all know the answer to this one:

I'm 100% certifiably insane. So how does this possibly make me 'normal?' Besides, normality is an insult, at least to me. I mean, Jesus Christ, normal is so boring. It's like being able to choose between frog legs, calamari, chocolate-covered coach roaches, and a hamburger, and you choose a hamburger.

Or it's like getting the decision to go back to public school or stay at your (Secretly disguised) MI and going back to public school.

The one thing I can count on is going to my MI and getting the finger or someone doing something pretty sketchy.

But hey, that's life. You don't even have to go to my school to see what I'm talking about. Just take a ride down to your local Wal-Mart and I can guarantee you'll see EXACTLY what I'm talking about.

Anyways. I think that's enough for now. Besides, my depression is settling in, and let me tell you, rampaging hormones, teenage angst, and bipolar depression is a horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE mix. I write any longer and I think I really will dive off the deep end.

To that end, you should thank me. But I suppose I'll forgive you if you don't. That's okay, though. Our generation's manners are severely lacking. Hmm. Maybe instead of becoming a writer I should tour around the US and lecture kids and teachers in schools about the importance of politeness.

Another problem with our generation? We know how to talk, but we don't know how to listen. Go figure.

A Random Post About Very Random Things

I'm in ADHD Mode, just thought I should warn you, because otherwise you'd might think I'm psycho. (Which I am, but this isn't the point!)

THINGS THAT ANNOY THE CRAP OUT OF ME--Extended Edition

1. Boys--do I really have to elaborate?
2. Boys who I think like me but who I really just want to be friends with
3. Boys who think they're better than me
4. People.
5. Adults who ask me, "How do you feel?" and I want to punch their lights out
6. People who constantly talk and refuse to shut up, even when you ask them POLITELY
7. Brussels sprouts
8. Whiny people
9. People whose lives' revolve entirely around video games
10. People who actually believe in the zombie apocalypse
11. People who trash talk Nancy Drew
12. People who argue with you even when you know you're right and they know it, too, and they just sound completely idiotic
13. Math--Mental Abuse To Humans
14. Redundant questions
15. Really bad jokes
16. People who laugh hysterically at stuff that really is not funny
17. Boys who still believe in toilet humor
18. Gossip
19. When people try to convince me of something I know is not true and I tell them to leave me alone and they keep bugging me
20. Bitchy girls who think they can say whatever they want and not get in trouble and who, for whatever reason, usually don't
21. People who just reinforce stereotypes and contribute to the issue of preconceived notions
22. And yadda, yadda, yadda, it's all the same.

*Yawn* Time for bed...see you in cyberspace, Bloggers.

Ignorance

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."--Elie Wiesel

 

Makes you wonder, sometimes, how ignorance can possibly be considered bliss. In my opinion, ignorance is ignorance, and nothing else.

 

As I was sitting in my Tuesday school club, GSA (Gay Straight Alliance, for those of you who may or may not know), we were finishing watching the Laramie Project, and I'm pretty sure that by the end of it, I'd cried like I'd never cried before.

 

I know there are those who may have never seen it before, so I'll do a brief overview.

 

On the night of October 6th (and 7th), 1998, in Laramie, Wyoming, a homosexual by the name of Matthew Shepard was killed.

 

Matthew, a 21 year-old going on 22 in a couple of days, was 'given a ride' by two guys around his same age,  Aaron McKinney and Russell Henderson, and was beaten up repeatedly until he was pretty much unconscious.

 

McKinney and Henderson drove Shepard to a field out in the middle of nowhere, dragged his unconscious body out of the car, tied him to a fence, and as Matthew gained a bit of consciousness, McKinney and Henderson beat him until he was knocked out cold.

 

That night, Matthew was lying there, tied to that fence, unable to move or talk or do anything, and he was out in the literal middle of nowhere, so much so that there wasn't a soul around for miles.

 

He was discovered in the morning by a bike rider who was going on his daily bike ride, and the biker called 911, the police showing up immediately and bringing Matthew to the nearest hospital.

 

He had severe head trauma and was in a coma/concussion, never awake and aware of what was going on.

 

Meanwhile, uproar spiraled out of control as media got wind of Matthew's death, causing Laramie's residents to panic.

 

"Everyone says, 'Laramie's not that type of town'!" one girl who was interviewed said. "But let's face it: we ARE that kind of town."

 

Other interviewees echoed her statement: "You can't deny what's happened," said one of the men, a member of the LGBTQ Community, much like Matthew. "You  can't say, 'That never happened!' Why? 'Cause it did. As sad and cruel and twisted and WRONG as it is, we're marked by what these kids have done. You can't look at Laramie and view it the same as before Matthew Shepard was killed."

 

As days and weeks passed and Shepard still wasn't recovering, the pandemonium died down but turned into widespread panic. Maybe it was because everyone assumed Matthew would live, and they could just put this behind them. But the longer he stayed in a coma, the less likely the chances were of his survival.

 

And a couple weeks after Matthew was tied to a fence and then brought to a hospital the next morning, he died.

 

And that's when all hell broke loose. People saying Matthew deserved to die; that homosexuality was a crime and an unacceptable way of life. Others defended him, saying that he was a great kid and that there was absolutely no justification for what had happened, and that they were disgusted by what McKinney and Henderson had done.

 

But in the end, more people were okay with Matthew's death and/or celebrating it than the people who stuck up for him and said it was not right.

 

So the Laramie Project was created so that a couple members of the LGBTQ community could interview Laramie's residents and try to get their viewpoints, later on turning it into a play, and then, even later, a documentary.

 

The rest is too disgusting and disturbing to recount here, so if you'd like to know what else happened, I suggest you watch it.

 

As I listened to what some of the people were saying, I have to say I think I was about to slam my fist through the TV screen.

 

Here were these idiots, these absolute ASSHOLES, saying that they were glad Matthew Shepard was dead. Hell, a priest even went so far as to say that he hoped while Matthew was tied to the fence, bleeding and dying slowly, was thinking about the impact his lifestyle had on the 'members of Laramie,' and that it was an unjustified way of life.

 

I was dumbstruck. How can you justify murder?! It doesn't matter if you commit a hate crime-murder-because of someone's race, or if they're a member of the LGBTQ community, or they have red hair, or a bad case of acne, or even a really bad taste in shoes! There is no excuse for murder, and that's final.

 

And yet, here these jackasses were, saying that they killed Matthew because he was 'coming onto them' and that he 'got scared' and so it was perfectly fine to shoot him with his pistol and then knock him on the head with the pistol's blunt end, a force so strong that's probably where half of Matthew's injuries came from.

 

And I know I can't change the world, wave my magic wand and say, "Poof! You are no longer a hater of X, Y, and Z," but I just wish that people could, yeah, have these thoughts.

 

But what is wrong with this world is that we don't keep these to ourselves. We shout it out, making the discriminated feel like crap (understatement) until they're so beaten down they just accept it and live with it.

 

And you know what else? That's. Just. Not. Okay. It's just not okay!!

 

This is the bottom line, my main point of this blog post:

 

Ignorance is one of the main reasons why we have such a hard time with discriminators. People listen to the stereotypes, breathe in rumors about said person, and then form this universal image of what those types of people look like, act like, behave like, and how 'different' they are from themselves.

 

They are not different. They aren't. They're exactly just like you, just born liking their same sex, or born being black, or etc., etc., etc. And I'll tell you something: you're just as bad as everyone else every time you make a 'joke' about people who are 'different' from you, or entertain a rumor that is obviously not true.

 

Though you may not mean to do it, you are contributing to the problem, plain and simple. So don't do it. Make the time to actually meet someone, form your own opinion, one that stems from an actual knowledge of who the person is.

 

'Cause I'll tell you one thing: when you do, you will see exactly-and I mean exactly-what I mean when I say that.

 

So next time you judge someone, ask yourself what you really know about that person. Not what you've been told; what you really, truly know.

 

And I can guarantee it isn't much.

 

 

 

 



I'm Pulling My Hair Out as I Write This

"Just kill me now. Please? Are we there yet? We HAVE  to be there! We've been in this fricking car for hours! Let me out! I'm going to die if I have to be in this car one more minute than I have to be, listening to Emma belt out "We're All in This Together." Unlock the car doors and let me out! NOW!!"--From Finding Normal, my Novel-In-Progress

 

I take back everything I wrote in my last post. I wish I could just erase it, but frankly, I worked way too hard on that post just to delete it a day later. So I'm not going to. Too. Much. Work.

 

I hate feeling weak; as if I'm as mentally-and emotionally-less able than others--but I am. I hate boys. To hell with Him. To hell with all of it! I'm officially writing boys off my agenda. Not that they ever were, of course, but I never wanted to be one of those girls. You know, the ones who wake up, drawing a big pink heart marking the one-week anniversary of their relationship's beginning; whose hearts go pitter-patter when they see their Him in the hallways, blah, blah, blah.

 

In fact, here's a play-by-play of today's Annoying Fest:

 

FIRST PERIOD

 

Me: Ugh. Another day. Where's Mr. G?

 

Brian: Don't know. Don't really care.

 

Me: You're not going to bring up the 'Herpes' thing again, are you?

 

Brian: Well, now that you've reminded me... (evil grin)

 

Me: I hate you.

 

Brian: (arches eyebrow): Are you sure about that?

 

Me: Yes. I am completely, certifiably, 100% sure.

 

Brian: 'Cause I don't think you do. Look me in the eyes and see if you can say it in blunt honesty. C'mon, let's see it!

 

Me: (gasping in relief when I see Mr. G, new kid, and Kelly walk in): Mr. Gardner, I feel extremely triggered. Might I take a lap or two?

 

Brian: (sighing and rolling eyes): Oh. My. God, Katie! Get a sense of humor already.

 

Me: You are such an asshole, Brian! Mr. G, please?

 

**SECOND PERIOD, THIRD PERIOD, FOURTH PERIOD, FIFTH PERIOD, SIXTH PERIOD PASS** 

SEVENTH PERIOD

 

Brian: Herpes, Katie! Herpes, herpes, herpes!

 

Me: Are you done yet, Brian?

 

Brian: Hmm. Let me think...Am I done? Hmm...I think not.

 

***TIME PASSES***

 

Mr. R: Okay, guys--I think we've done everything I wanted us to accomplish, so how about a nice little debate?

 

Brian: (chuckling sarcastically): Good luck with THAT one, Mr. R. Last time we tried that, my little sister over there got a little, uh, 'passionate,' and Ms. H had to have a 'chat' with her.

 

Me: Brian. Please-stop. I'm begging you. You don't know boundaries, do you? You just don't! I'm not invincible to your teasing, ya know. Please stop, Brian, I can't--

 

Mr. R: Katie, please calm down. I'm sure Brian didn't mean anything cruel--

 

Brian: Au Contraire, Mr. Rogulski! I did, in fact, mean to tease her.

 

Me: You want to know something?! This is no longer just teasing--not when you make it a point to keep going after I ask you to stop.

 

Brian: Jesus, Katie, get a sense of humor!!

 

Me: Sorry. Mine flew out of the window just as soon as you said those words. (to Mr. R) Can I please take a couple of laps?

 

Brian: I was just kidding, Katie!

 

Me: Sorry, 'bro.' After a while, 'just kidding' isn't kidding anymore. It's an excuse. It's an excuse to keep 'teasing' someone who, oh yeah, has asked you politely to stop. Leave me alone, okay?

 

Brian: (silenced)

 

Me: Thanks, Mr. R. See you Monday, okay?"

 

I hate Brian. I hate boys. I hate Mr. G for telling us about bacteria and the fact that when you have Chicken Pox when you're a child you automatically have the herpes virus inside you.

 

Most of all, I hate feeling like I'm on some ride I can't get off. Sort of, in fact, like being a car during a family road trip, with your parents listening to the OLD oldies, and your siblings driving you up the wall...

 

What's weird is that I used to like that. But not anymore. I'm done. I really am done.

 

 

 



The Best Thing To Listen To When You Want To Be Loved!

Here's to all those boys out there who have to go and do THAT.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside and mess you up."--Neil Gaiman

 

Love is a complicated thing. So complicated, in fact, that you very slowly feel like you are dying, perhaps inside, while outwards your body is quickly dissolving.

 

Maybe this is why a long time ago I said to myself, "You are never, ever, ever going to get married. No falling in love. No liking boys. No liking girls. No liking any person as more than a friend. No, no, no, NO. It will destroy you!"

 

Funny how that didn't much solve the issue now, did it? Maybe back then I was so foolish that I thought telling myself not to like anyone as more than a friend would actually stop it from happening.

 

Oh, how utterly delusional I was. And apparently, still am. I don't remember much about how it happened, but now...?

 

I think the first time I realized just how much I liked him was the beginning of last year, when I walked into first-period physics and saw Him sitting there. No, not God. Him--as in, that guy that knows you so well he's just...he just deserves a Capital H.

 

I dumped my stuff down next to my desk and took off my hoodie, searching the room for our teacher. "Where's--?" I began, getting cut off by Brian's:

 

"I ate him."

 

I looked over at him and blinked. "Um...what did you just say?"

 

He smirked, like he was so terribly happy to be able to explain this thing to me. "I said, I ate him. I was really hungry, and all we had in our house for breakfast foods were Cheerios. Bleh. I HATE Cheerios."

 

"So...you decided to eat Mr. Gardner?" I asked dubiously, giving him a questioning look that he promptly returned with a "why are you questioning my authority?" glare. "I don't think he appreciated it."

 

Brian shrugged. Soon, more people arrived: this girl I barely knew, Emily, this kid I knew a bit better, Dakota, and another girl, one who looked like she was on good terms with Him.

 

Now let's just get this one thing straight: by no means was I jealous. Absolutely not. I just thought he was funny--a bit annoying, yes, but funny he was--and noticed that the girl, Jenna, was probably dating him.

 

And aren't I just so smart?

 

Mr. Gardner quickly came in, and I said, "Jesus, Mr. Gardner! How did you ever recover from Brian's rampant appetite?"

 

Mr. G took one glance at me and then at Brian, and said, "Strong immune system, I suppose."

 

Brian laughed loudly and Jenna goes, "Yeah, Brian. Couldn't you have just eaten something real for breakfast? Like pancakes or something?"

 

"Nah. Too much effort. Because that'd require having to get out the griddle, then the ingredients, then plates, then I have to stand there and wait for them, and then I actually have to eat it..."

 

I stared at him in astonishment. "Really now? The hardest part is eating it?" I sat back in my chair and waited for Mr. Gardner to start today's lesson. It took about five minutes, but eventually he did.

 

"Today we're learning the building blocks of physics, which is ironically something we do by starting with Chemistry. Now let me tell you all about the Table of Elements, a scientist's best friend..."

 

CUT TO NOW

 

"Guess who has herpes, Mr. R!" Brian says, waltzing into English while I groan and shake my head wildly as in, NO. Figures that Mr. Douchebag wouldn't get the message.

 

"Um, what?" Mr. Rogulski says, staring at Brian is confusion. Now normally I'd say "um, what" isn't exactly worthy of an English teacher's job position, but I can't really blame him: Brian did seem pretty out of his mind.

 

That is, if you weren't me.

 

"Brian, no--" I start to protest, naturally getting cut off.

 

"Katie does!" Brian says gleefully. While Mr. R looks from me to Brian to me to Brian again, I quickly say, "Not that type of herpes! It's-it's like something from getting chicken pox when I was younger, and--"

 

Brian is laughing hysterically, and I find myself wanting to strangle him to cut off his vocal cords.

 

"You, my friend," I mutter angrily under my breath to him, "Are going to be in so much trouble after school is over. You can bet on it."

 

Brian just looks at me with this goofy grin on his face and I fight the urge to smile. No. He will not get the better of me!

 

At least, not if I can help it.

 

Burning holes through his skull, I take my seat at the opposite end of the classroom, while he continues to push my buttons. "Asshole!" I say loudly, to which Mr. R, of course, gets wind of.

 

"Excuse me?" he says, a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. "Did you have something to tell the class, Katie?"

 

Brian is smirking in his seat, and it takes all my willpower not to look at him. "No, Mr. R."

 

The whole class is paying attention now, and I bury my head in my hoodie.

 

I can't do work, though-all I can do is try to avoid thinking about my feelings for Brian and his feelings for me.

 

'Cause no matter how much I might want to deny it, I like him, and he likes me.

 

Crap.

 

Whatever just happened to being friends with boys?! Just. Friends. Is there even such a thing anymore?

 

I'm not sure I know. I wonder if the line's been blurred for so long that maybe there's not even a line there anymore. It wouldn't be all that surprising.

 

 

 

 

 



AnNoYIng PEopLE: PLATINUM EDITION--Act I, Scene I

 

In this post, I'm officially going to write in red, as I'm in that in-between stage: in the middle of angry and confusion (NOT a good combination, let me tell you).

 

The Story of Today, in a play I like to call:

 

Annoying People: Platinum Edition

 

Characters:

*Mia: Best friend in question (?); officially driving me nuts; making me regret making the promise to support her in whatever decision she stupidly makes

 

*Kaitlin: Innocent friend who constantly gets blamed for things she had no part of; feels used and unimportant, especially when she tries her hardest to fix things between her and Mia (*) and ends up getting backlashed for it

 

*Nicola: Friend to both *Kaitlin and *Mia who remains nonjudgmental but as of lately begins to question friendship with *Mia or at least debate the usefulness of continuing to befriend Mia (*) or if it's more trouble and stress than it's worth in the long run; especially good friend to Kaitlin (*) and close confidant

 

*Arden: physical male abuser in school who is seemingly innocent but who has done more wrongs in a five month period than most do in a lifetime. Arden (*) also has been trying to 'recruit' (as it were) Mia (*) which is worrisome to Mia's (*) friends who are trying to save her the depressing fall but who aren't being listened to and are instead getting yelled at for trying to help

 

*Chris: outside force; in the process of launching investigation of Arden (*) to try to get him kicked out of school (for a good reason, mind you!) and make *Victoria (school name) a safer and more comfortable place for Victoria's (*) student population.

 

Act I, Scene I:

 

Scene opens with the song "Everybody talks" by Neon Trees as school starts for the day. *Kaitlin enters Stage Left through hallway to morning meeting room; bumps into *Arden on en route to seat in lunchroom. *Mia and *Nicola arrive much later, about two minutes before class starts at Victoria. And...ACTION!

 

*Kaitlin: (smiling and chatting with already-arrived students) "My weekend was SO boring! What'd YOU do? Something better than doing homework, I hope?" (pauses; listening) "Yeah, tell me something I don't know!"

 

*Arden: (entering morning meeting room with arm slung over shoulder of yet another two-day girlfriend)"How was...(conspiratorially lowering voice in a not-so-subtle whisper) "You know...it?" (girl whispers in ear, giggling girlishly; Arden (*) smiles smugly and lowers arm closer to girl's butt)"Bummer! We can get together...if you want."

 

(*Mia and *Nicola enter morning meeting room, and *Mia puts lunch in fridge while *Nicola greets *Kaitlin)

 

*Nicola: "Howdy, cowgirl!"

 

*Kaitlin: (wincing)"Please tell me you didn't just say what I thought you said...PLEASE."

 

(*Nicola laughs at *Kaitlin's uncomfortable look)

 

*Nicola: "Sorry, Kaitlin. Couldn't resist on that one. Might we try this one again?"

 

*Kaitlin: (grinning goofily)"Yes, please...partner."

 

(*Nicola and *Kaitlin share a laugh until *Mia comes over and joins in the conversation)

 

*Mia: "What are you guys chuckling about over here?" (Looks around as if the kids in the meeting room's faces will supply the answer)"Seriously, though. What's going on? I hate feeling left out!"

 

(Nicola and Kaitlin (**) share questioning glances but say "nothing" in unison, earning them a dubious look from *Mia)

 

*Mia: (uncertainly)"Um, well...uh, okay, then. Mind if I go chat with *Arden?"

(Synchronized silence from *K & *N as they stare at *M)

 

*Mia: (awkwardly)"So that's a yes?" (laughs nervously) "Okay, then. See you guys later!"

 

(*N & *K wave and say 'bye' but *M is long gone before the words escape their mouths)

 

*Nicola: "Is it just me, or is something strange going on with *Mia? She's acting...really weird. Do you know something I don't?"

 

(*Kaitlin shakes head vehemently)

 

*Kaitlin: (shrugging sort of bitterly) "Nope, sure don't. She used to tell me everything. But now? I dunno anymore...it's weird. I don't know anything that's going on in her life, and I'm not sure if that's a relief or if it's really worrying."

 

*Nicola: (puts reassuring hand on *Kaitlin's shoulder) "I wouldn't worry about it too much, K. If something bad is truly happening, I'm sure she'd tell you about it." (When *K doesn't respond, *N looks worried and taps *K's arm reluctantly) "*Kaitlin? Even if she's told you something, I don't want to know...I just don't want you to worry yourself insane because *Mia's acting off lately. Maybe something's going on and she's just refrained from telling you 'cause she's afraid of your reaction. You know...maybe she's not ready for *Kaitlin's Words of Wisdom yet."

 

*Kaitlin: (shrugging noncommittally) "You might be right, I suppose. But...I don't know. I just have this gut feeling I've done something wrong...and I don't know what. I think that's what's bugging me crazy: the fact that I don't know a thing about my best friend's life and how she's holding up, and yet a creepy guy whose done a whole lot of bad things in a real short amount of time knows everything. Maybe...maybe I'm not her friend. And if so--why?"

 

 

*Nicola: (shakes her head, as if disagreeing; disputing *Kaitlin's theory) "I don't know what's happening with her, *K, but I'm almost positive it's not your fault. I don't know what you could have done."

 

(*Kaitlin laughs bitterly.)

 

*Kaitlin: "Ha. You got THAT one straight, *Nicola. If I knew what was wrong, I could just forget about it and move on. But she's making it virtually impossible! It's like she's crushing my soul with her secrecy! I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE!"

 

(People in the vicinity of the lunch room look up curiously at *Kaitlin's outburst)

 

*Kaitlin: (blushing furiously)"Dear God! Why do people always have to listen when I talk about this stuff? It's driving me crazy!!"

 

*Nicola: (lays a gentle hand on *Kaitlin's arm) "Class is about to start, *K. My English class is over by your Science class...want to walk over together?"

 

(*Kaitlin smiles at *Nicola and they playfully link arms and strut down the hallway, looking like they own the place)

 

*Kaitlin: "And this is how I got lucky in the friend department. See ya later, *N. Catch you at lunch? Outside in the farthest from the door lunch table?"

 

(*Nicola nods and hurries down hallway)

 

--*Kaitlin smiles to herself and plops her bag onto the tile floor, her mind temporarily off the *Mia Situation...until next period, when *Arden and *Mia are blatantly staring *Kaitlin in the face)

 

*Scene Ends*--Act I, Scene I

 

(Science teacher starts lecture on the history of the earth and the song, "Blow Me (One Last Kiss)" plays. *Fade out* with a bird-view of the class. *Voices grow silent* *Music is only thing that is breaking the silence* *Fade to black*

 

SCENE ENDS

 

 

Look for Installment Scene II soon!!

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Why Guys Make Better Friends Than Girls

 

"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."--Elbert Hubbard

Girls, girl drama, rumors, whispers, girls whispering rumors to one another, secretive glances at each other...Drive. Me. Nuts!

Luckily, this has all gotten progressively better in the past, oh, five days, but girls just can't spend a day without spreading gossip, true or not, and I always want to shout and go, "Can you please shut UP?"

But no, they can't, though from laziness or a genuine inability to keep themselves from whispering said gossip to others remains undetermined. What I constantly marvel at, though, is why girls can't seem to form intelligent conversations with one another?

To me, I mostly hear something like:

 Diva Friend 1: "So, like, oh my God, yesterday Angela got asked out-"

Diva Friend 2: "Oh my God! By who?!"

Me: "Does it matter?"

Diva Friend 2: "Well, God, Katie! Of COURSE it matters who Angela is dating! Because I heard she got asked out by-"

Diva Friend 1: "William Shakespeare!"

Me: "Um, guys? That's a playwright from the 1500s...he's not exactly alive and datable, if you know what I mean-"

Diva Friend 1: "Oh, Katie, you are so silly! I mean that kid who wrote that play for our English class!"

Me: *Groans and puts hands over her eyes*

Diva Friend 2: "Like, totally! Oh my gosh, William Shakespeare is SO dreamy! I'd totally love to get into his pants..."

Me: "Ugh, I lost my appetite. Have fun you guys."

Diva Friends 1 & 2: "'Kay, then, Katie! Bye!" *Pause* "Don't tell Angela what we were saying, okay? She doesn't need to know."

Me: *Fake smile* "Of course. My lips are sealed."

Although, even as I had quite a sarcastic tone going on, I was still serious. Unlike them, I have no problem with keeping my lips firmly closed with a secret.

Amazing how my gossip 'friends' got told more secrets that they unleashed ten minutes later than I got with my lips sealed for eternity.

Really, what's up with that? Not that I'm terribly depressed not knowing that Person A had it going on in the janitor's closet or that Person Q just got plastic surgery for her dog, but seriously--I, out of anyone, should know these things! When people go to gossip queens as secret keepers, they're either totally misinformed and/or ignorant, or they just want everyone to know it.

Either way, this brings me to the main focus of my post's title: boys really do make better friends than girls. I always used to remember being told that when girls get into arguments with each other, they go to making each other miserable as revenge. Secretive, bitchy, and totally uncalled for. Boys, as I was told, beat each other up or got into an arm wrestling match to prove who's more macho and then pigged out on food and played video games for five hours.

Honestly, this isn't too far-fetched when you look at boys vs. girls. So that's why, for most of my life, I've enjoyed the company of guys much better than diva girls. Hey, whoever I can hang out with who know my idiosyncrasies, let me eat as much as I want, actually listen to my problems (and don't pass it off to anyone else afterwards!) and still like me anyway is a good friend in my book.

And to hell with anyone who disagrees!












 

I Think I'm Dead

Considering the way my life's been going lately, is this even really a surprise? I feel like I'm on one of those prank shows, where a person's friends or family or whatever plays this really bad joke on them that's more sort of bullying, really. I feel like that, only instead of the prank being pulled by everyone I love, it's by Life. Destiny. Fate. Misery. Torment. All my favorite depression-inducing factors that seem to really enjoy making my every day life living hell. Why can't they just say hi and go--away? I want to be done with life! I want to done being a pawn in the metaphorical game of chess aka life.

 

I wish there was something else I could say, like something that hasn't been said in the past five posts already. But what more is there to say, really? What more can I say that hasn't been said? Oh God, I hate, hate, hate, HATE myself.

 

And now I'd better finish off this blog post before it becomes some fricking suicide letter. Hopefully there'll be another one after this, but who knows? And of course the tears fall, and everything is dark. Gets black and blacker until I'm swimming in a lake, drowning, really, midnight black...I'm drowning in a lake at midnight where no one will find me and I can't even find myself anymore.

 

Could my life get any more fucked up? I think not.

Shadows

 

"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."

--Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Seems like the darkness controlling the corners of my mind grows quicker and more deadly every time it decides to bless me with its presence. I can feel it's dramatic--albeit unwelcome--entrance every time I shut my eyes. I can't give in, I can't give in, I can't give in, I tell myself, like I can really decide that.

The shadows, like those devastating windstorms during the Dust Bowl period, ravage my soul, eating it from the inside out, until I can't feel anything. All I am is numb; not hearing, seeing, or feeling anything. Just a motionless rag doll tossed aside when declared useless.

Sitting in the semi-darkness of the living room, this is my most vulnerable time, when I am most susceptible to the destruction my demon's shadows cause. Whenever I think about my younger self, so oblivious and innocent and immune to sadness and illness and self-deprecation, it takes all of my willpower not to just fall back and let the darkness consume me.

Because once you know the general way the world works, you can't ever go back. You can't ever forget about that unlucky walk-in on those horny teenagers 'doing' it in the janitor's closet. You can't forget when your best friend cut herself and begged you not to tell a soul. And you certainly can't forget when all you have at the end of the day is an aching, endless loneliness that is sickness; it refuses to go away yet is always there, though benign sometimes.

I come home, hands clutching my hair like I want to rip it all out and toss it down the trash. To rid myself of all the imperfections, even if it means damaging what little left of my soul I have left. Because 97.9% of human beings value beauty over brains and bravery and kindness. They think being supermodel skinny, shiny, perpetually good-looking hair and equally flawless skin is the key to happiness. It's not.

And this is hubris, the fatal flaw of many people: we believe we can achieve anything, not just gorgeous looks. It's sort of the way I get sometimes when I've been off my medication and am going through that "Wheeee!" hyper/manic stage. It doesn't come as often as my depressive one does, although I like being cynical and sad and moody a lot more than manic and uncontrollable.

But during both periods I get that same feeling: I'm not driving the car that is metaphorically my life, my body, my nerve systems and mind. It's my evil twin, the one who likes to come in and throw stuff against the walls and take a hammer to my collection of mementos, the only connections I still carry with me as a way of being able to recall my past.

Because it seems, at least lately, that going back into my past would be the best thing I could ever ask for. When life was simple and I didn't have to make decisions that could make or break my character and who I was--and am--as a person. The past is so perfect, because you know everything you did wrong and now you have a chance to go back and fix it.

To go back and apologize to that girl who was being bullied by a douchebag and who you never bothered to save by stepping in and telling the boy to get the hell away. Or perhaps not picking up that piece of trash at the entrance to your town park. Little things like that.

They seem nondescript, but I bet if you could go back in your life and change every stupid little mistake you'd ever made, you not only would be a better person, you'd also be a happier person.

That said, it seems I've failed to get a time machine and fly back to my "tween" years. Nope. I'm stuck in 2013, the worst year of my life by far.

Oh, well. No one ever said life was fair. But it should be, and that's the ultimate truth.