Write First

*mistreated

Do you ever think about me?

Sometimes, I wonder if those who I made my world ever think of me. I think of them. It’s like anyone I ever thought I loved left a scar on my heart. I thought of it as somewhat of a curse at first but I’m pretty good at taking the bad and making it good or at least tolerable. I’ll try to start from the beginning. The first gift a boyfriend ever gave me was a necklace, and I was in elementary school. It had a single grain of rice inside it with my name written on it. Zack gave it to me. Anytime I see someone with extremely small handwriting, I tell them about that necklace. The first boy I kissed was called Matt. We kissed behind a couch. I was twelve. It was an older couch that folded out into a bed. I still think of him, and that night, when I come across a couch like that. Later that year, Matt’s bestfriend, Aaron, fingered me. It was the first time a boy touched me there and I hated it. He had longer hair and acne. Although it was eleven years ago, that hair cut is still popular. When I see boys with their hair styled that way, I am reminded that it is okay to say no. Dakota was the first boy to break my heart. My father was painting my room on the day he broke up with me, so I had to go cry in my sister’s room. The smell of paint reminds me that selfish boys don’t deserve my tears. Austin told me that he’d kill himself if I broke up with. I stayed with him two weeks longer than I wanted to. He’s popped into my mind during every break up I’ve expereinced. I lost my virginity when I was thirteen to a boy name Brandon. I wasn’t ready, but I didn’t want to disappoint him. John Mayer was his favorite artist. That was ten years ago, and I still won’t listen to Mayer’s music. When I was 17, Anthony convinced me to leave my boyfriend to be his girl. He broke up with me a month later. He had a golden retriver and seeing those dogs still reminds me that I should always go with my gut. Destiny was the first and only girl I ever fell in love with. She betrayed me. That was six years ago, and there’s not much that doesn’t make me think of her. I was the first girl Mitchell ever brought home to meet his family. Ever since then, anytime I meet a boyfriend’s family I am reminded how important first impressions are. I thought the relationship I had with Josh was healthy. I bought him a rosary for his birthday. After four months he took off to California with my debit card, and I haven’t seen him since. Men who wear rosaries remind me not to give my pin number out to anyone. Jeffrey broke my heart faster than anyone I’ve ever been with. He had somewhat of a receding hair line. When I see men who seem to be balding, I am reminded that sex is not the same thing as love. The most unhealthy relationship I’ve ever been in lasted two years. His name was Jess and I made him my god. He lived my life for me, and I loved it. When faced with a difficult decision, I am grateful that I am finally capable to think for myself. There are many other men I’ve crossed paths with in my twenty three years alive. Today I am grateful for the good, the bad, and the ugly. You hurt me. You made me believe my life would be nothing without you. Thank you. If it hadn’t been for all the people that mnistreated me in my life, I wouldn’t know what it means to really be loved. I’m sure I have many more hard lessons to learn but just for today, I am grateful for the scars you left beacuse they make me who I am today.

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.”

— A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

lost dreams awakened

I gave blood Tuesday. I’m not telling you because I want to boast about being charitable. I’m telling you this because I was never supposed to be permitted to give blood. Being diagnosed with hepatitis c meant no sharing nail files, no EMT license, and certainly no giving blood. Now that I am cured, I can do all those things. When I was thirteen I wrote a bucket list. Giving blood was on that list. I can now cross it out because my God does phenomenal things in my life. We do recover.

Cause and Effect

I’m writing from my bed, again. Writing is always beneficial but sometimes I’m too lazy for pencil and paper.

Today was full. We went to lunch, bought Layla new clothes, races go karts, saw a Beatles tribute concert, browsed Broadway and Printers Ally, and rode the bus. Justin and Layla both hurt my feelings today. Layla hardly counts though because she’s a child. Justin verbalized his opinion about my evening plans. Originally, I wanted the concert to be date night. I forgot to tell Justin that, so when we could find a baby sitter, he suggested she come with us. To make up for the loss of a date night, I suggested we make it a dress up date. I wanted to dress nice, go to a fancy dinner spot, then go to the concert. He was fine with that at first. He asked if Layla could wear her overalls. I said that’s not pretty fine dining attire. He was that opinion was stupid then became suddenly ill with me. When we got home, I said I didn’t want to go because he was grumpy. I started crying. He apologize. I took a nap. We ended up just going to the concert. It was all right. It just wasn’t the evening I was hoping for.

What I’m trying to figure out is why it escalated so quickly. Daddy always says “there’s nothing to figure out,” but I’d like to know the ingredients that called for such a rapid escalation. I have a few theories. First, i could be extra sensitive due to my period being just around the corner. Two, he was exhausted and frustrated from the small money tiff we got in this morning. Three, I heard the word “stupid” and took the conversation somewhere he never intended to go. Brandon’s usage of that word towards me scarred me, no doubt. It all began when he mocked my sleeping pattern this morning. He was thrown off by the fact that on my only day off of the week, I wanted to sleep in past 10. Yes, I sleep more than most, but my responsibilities are always taken care of, so why doesn’t it matter? Anyway, after he made such a big deal out of it, I got up. We rushed to shop without coffee or time for me to wake up. I believe that was a bad start. Less learned. My period is out of my control. My sponsor says with time I’ll adjust to it, and it won’t be such an issue. If the answer is three, that requires he most work. I feel I should let him know that he handled his frustrations wrong. I’m hoping tomorrow I’ll know what caused it.

What I’m sure of is that I can’t blame him for not knowing I wanted a date night. I didn’t tell him. It’s ludicrous to put expectations on someone without telling them.

He did offer to buy me things all day at the mall. He knows I’m broke. That was sweet. He also massages my shoulder tonight. I told him I pulled it and needed it to be rubbed. I’m not sure it helped though.

I took my nursing entrance exam and scored with the top 8% of the nation! I wanted to write more, but I’m getting tired.

“Every one says forgiveness is a lovely idea, until they have something to forgive”

— C.S. Lewis

“You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.”

— A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

“Never bend your head. Hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye.”

— Helen Keller

Turn out the lights. I’ll love you until you love yourself.

..what do you want from me?

I suppose the reason I’m not honest with you is because I don’t trust you.  Please, make me trust you.  Your intentions are blurred from where I stand. 

vulgarity for emphasis

I just finished today’s work for my online classes.  No I am waiting for slut to get here.  I hope she doesn’t ruin my night.  I mean she probably won’t but it’s happened before.  I can’t be as wreckless tonight as I’d like to be seeing as my babysitter will be sleeping beside me.  Ugh, have a little fun loser.  Your life is not about making sure I don’t fuck up mine.  To be honest, you only make me want to be worse than I already am.  Watch your step, bitch.

Today was kind of lonely.  I didn’t mind much though.  I just slept a lot, which felt nice.  My shoulders ache, I’d like to go back to sleep but she’ll get pissy when she’s here if I am.  Maybe she’ll let me have a little fun tonight.

I hope no one ever realizes I write here.  That will be the death of me.  Again.  Keep it hush pussy.