A Chain of Events…

Today, I am visiting my boyfriend as I do every other Monday.  He decided to leave with his dad to go car shopping and make it a father/son bonding day.  I’m okay with this.  I just stayed at the apartment doing homework.  

He calls me, needing help with something, and his ringtone plays.  I decide that my original phone ringtone is no match for the awesomeness of Happy by Pharrell and attempt to find for when anyone calls my phone.  

Instead, I find one for my older sister and change her ringtone.

As I am looking at the information my phone has under her contact, I see a link for postsecret.  

I think, “I haven’t been on there,” and decide to hop on and read some secrets other people have decided to share.  

My Pandora flips over to the instrumental song of Any Other Name by Thomas Newman.  It plays in the background as I noticed all the secrets for Sunday are about eating disorders.  As it turns out, February 23rd to March 1st is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week…

Tears rolled down my face and fell off my chin.  I just couldn’t help but cry.  I was anorexic for most of my high school life, for about 2 and a half years.  It still haunts me to this day.  But it actually made me feel a little better knowing that other people are effected too.  This coincidental chain of events reminded me of my past and how far I’ve come from where I was.  

I never really told anyone the deep reasons and effects until the end of last year and no one suspected the entire time I was plagued with anorexia either.  

It’s been over two years since I starved myself daily to make myself perfect, or feel perfect.  It made me cry to think that I use to feel good about not eating everyday.  It made me cry to think that I found a sick satisfaction that I could die from malnutrition.  It made cry to know that I knew it was unhealthy but I wanted to do it anyway.  It made me cry to think that people complimented me on my weight, my looks, my curves when, in reality, I was starving to make myself be what I thought society wanted from me.  

Not only society, but what I thought I wanted from me.  I wanted to be perfect.  I wanted to be thin.  I wanted to feel like in this spiraling world, I could control something.  I could control my weight.

I’ve been told I was only seeking attention.  But I wasn’t.  No one really knew because I hid it.  I kept my satisfaction to myself. As I look back now, I probably wasn’t the only one hiding an eating disorder either.  

I wish there was someone there for me when I was going through all this.  If you need to talk, just message me and I would be more than happy to chat with you.  You are not alone.  :)

My sister told me I’m the light house operator and she’s the college student.  :)

I think im super cool and ill make friends and then I notice…

Nobody noticed my Facebook, twitter, devientart or tumblr comments.
Then I notice… I actually am a bit hurt that I’m NOT noticed…

Damn this feeling of social acceptance! Damn you!


Dear world,

if you think you want me to be barbie,Then I guess you’re gonna get ready to be kissin my ass!

Cool fact, I like video games, mud fights, paintball,…

This is going to be a strange concept but, here goes nothing,

Barbie is plastic
which means,

I can set her on fire.
That’s right, FIRE…
I’m a pyro.

I enjoy fire.




Another thing, BARBIE. IS. PLASTIC.
A plastic doll, you buy in a box, made from a machine. 

If you want me to be Barbie, you turn that awesome fire in my heart into ice-cold plastic.  In fact, it makes me want to set you on fire.  (oo, getting a bit crazy, murderous now…)

Few Fun Facts:

I’m chubby. 
Well, I run 1 to 2 miles a day.
I run around with niece and nephews, sports related… I also was born in a farming community where, when we eat, we eat the big chicken, baked potato, corn, green beans, roll-type meals.  I may be chubby, but I am healthy.

I have a gap in my teeth. 
So does my mom, and her mom, and both my aunts, and my niece.  That’s my family.  If you dont like it, you dont like my family.  That means I dont like you.  Caprende?

I don’t always do my hair. 
Listen, I go to school, night class, and work even shifts.  I can’t wear my hair down at work… and getting 6-7 hours of sleep when I work evenings is enough to make me wanna kill you, let alone getting up early enough to do my hair to look nice for you.

I don’t get my nails done. 
Funny story, I work evenings… and in the slim chance of free time I paint and do clay work.  Its freakin hard to work with clay with nails on.  TOO BAD.

I don’t always shave my legs. 
ITS WINTER TIME… IM WEARING JEANS!… I’m not sleeping with you, I’m going on a date with you… to the movies no less… where not only will I still be wearing jeans, but it will be dark… so I think someone needs to get over it.

This entire thought came up when I got my senior pictures done.  My cousin did them and she did very little work to them.  Mostly just light effects and some blurs to the backgrounds and cool crap like that.  I honestly thought they were fantastic since she didn’t do anything different TO MY FACE! thank you very much! 

I gave one to the head journalist for the yearbook. 
A few girls saw this picture and were making comments about how pretty I was and how gorgeous it was.  One girl, who use to be friends with me, then commented, “She is really pretty, see?  She could be so pretty if she tried harder.”

… Was my senior picture me not trying hard enough?

No, she meant, if I looked ‘prettier’ I could be more popular.  Of course, she’s been a cheerleader all though middle and high school and her parents buy her everything… she has no worries in this world other than what college to spend her parents money at. 

Nothing about how I have a grand sarcastic personality, or not to pick a fight with me because I’m super strong, or I always show up late to school… but just that I was pretty enough!

So world, my point, your perception of beauty is seriously over-rated and the only cause of that skewed perception are the people who live on it.  I’ll do my best to work against it.
To tell every person they are beautiful no matter how they look. 
How different they seem. 
How strange they are.
Because they are.
Somewhere deep down, world, I know you’re beautiful too.  Or maybe you’re only molted rock… okay, You’re ruining my point.



Somebody I Use to Know…

Saw a girl who use to be my absolute best friend. We would do tons of stuff together for a good year to year and a half but then we stopped hanging out as often. 

I know about her life.  I know about her real dad. 

She’s also one of the girls who talked me into attending a party and helped sneak me into the party, wanted me to drink at the party, wanted me to smoke at the party, wanted me to skinny dip, told me about how the first person she ever kissed and learned out to make out from was her girly best friend from another town, had me drive her around and would talk me into taking her to see her different boyfriends which I later would find out I was helping her sneak around because she wasn’t suppose to go.

Her boyfriend cheated on her after two years but I heard a rumor that she cheated on him first.

I felt bad… No one deserves to be cheated on.

Not even a week after breaking up him, she got together with her high school guy friend.

You know, though, no matter how much she shouldn’t have gotten cheated on because no one deserves it, she hasn’t changed her attitude.

I saw her in the hallway the other day with her new boyfriend and she looked me in the eye, looked away, and walked right  by me without saying anything.

I had a friend tell me something the other day,

"Once your best friends with someone, you are always best friends with someone but you just simply stop hanging out and doing things with them as often, if ever again."

It may be true.  For a short time, we were good friends.  There’s no way in hell I’d hang out with her now.

We had good times but now that I think about it, maybe I’m better off.

I find it rather entertaining with how interesting my life is in my imagination compared to the reality of how absolutely boring my life really is.

Maybe I should be a writer?

1 note 

Carl: Its not like I hate them but if I was a dictator, they’d probably be dead.
Kat and Erin: (stare at Carl in shock)
Bran: I can agree.
Kat and Erin: (stares at Bran in shock)
Carl: See, you know what I mean.
Bran: Yeah, we could both be dictators!
Carl: I’m dictating magic and you of muggles?
Bran: yeah! (Highfive)
Kat: oh no.
Erin: I think we’ve met Voldemort. (Points at Carl)
Kat: and Hitler. (Points at Bran)
(Carl and Bran highfive again)
(In my College Algebra class, having a conversation about a group of people and a particular incident earlier that day)

1 note