[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 11 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Friday, April 9th, 2010|
Let me introduce myself properly.
My name is Elizabeth Carey Cruickshank.
I am not special. I'm 19, already 400$ in debt, and depressed all the time. I pay my own way for everything, because my parents refuse to help in any way, shape, or form.
I have nothing going for me. I love to draw, write, and play music like it's the air I breathe. I'm mediocre at best, and I'll probably never go anywhere with it even though I desperately want to sing.
Dad raised us on his own. I have no right to be angry with him even though he made sure I had a roof over my 2 year old head, with two jobs and nothing else. Mom was never there, so I never noticed her when she tried to contact me. Then she got violent. Then I got hurt.
I've worked since I was little, so I appreciate the value of the dollar and what it means to have a paying job. Something mom would never understand, even when my brother and I would be forced to live with her for the next few years. Something she wouldn't comprehend when she would steal my money from my room while I was at school. Some that I had made on my own. Some I had received from grandpa (god-bless his soul).
I've been abused. Physically, mentally; by others, and by myself. No one quite knows the extent of that; no one but myself and my older brother, who refuses to treat me as his equal as much as it hurts me. He'll know everything that happened between us, but he'll never know what happened without him.
I regret not being close to anyone. But I honestly don't think I NEED anyone to be happy. I am myself. I am not an extension of anyone else, nor will I ever be. I can never make someone perfectly happy, and even if I could, they could never do the same in return. I like to see myself as singular; that's how I was born, that's how I'll die.
I've had friends, none of which have stayed. I've been the same since elementary school- grown up and ready to face challenges that no 3rd grader should have to face- or, any 8th grader- or any senior in high school. I sat in the back and waited for all of them to catch up, or just to plain sit and watch and enjoy as their lives grew in a way mine couldn't. I would be proud for them. I would cry for them. I would be ashamed for them. None of them are here anymore. All have vanished; all of which whom blame me, for dropping everything I owned just to cater to their wills. Forgive me for being selfish when I finally said "no" and did what I wanted to do for once. I guess it was futile to wait for them to grow up.
Words can never express everything that I experienced. There's so much more then what is in this one journal entry. Things I will tell. Things I will take to my GRAVE. My lips are sealed--partially at least, but enough to make sure you'll never see the mental scars underneath.
I've been in situations in which, my depression has been so bad that I've been taken to counseling. Which led to depression pills. Which led to anxiety pills. Topped on top of the 5 or 6 pills I was already taking for my stomach (my brother likes to consistently point out how he has a permanent disease, and that mine was temporary- so I should stop whining; but as I said, he'll never know what happened). I struggled with boughs of weakness in which I considered, or may have even performed, acts of self-mutilation.
People say: "that's the lowest form of weakness".
Do not say that.
You can tell me all you want, about how "some people have it worse". It's absolutely true, too. But that would only make me feel worse for being selfish for actually wanting a better life then what I have. It makes me feel worse for considering the fact that the only way I can make my deadbeat of a mother realize I'm screaming underneath is by marking my skin. It makes me feel WORSE that I feel it's the only way to make my emotionally detached father scared for me for ONCE.
I'm not okay. I've never been okay.
This is me.
This will always BE me.
I'm sorry if you don't agree.
|Wednesday, May 20th, 2009|
|A small excerpt
Heiderich grunted quietly, reaching up to grip his head. Pulling back his hand, he found blood smeared upon it. The blast must have knocked him out, which would explain the reason his head was pounding with a headache of unimaginable force. Never one to allow pain to get the best of him, Heiderich stood from the dirty ground underneath him.
His breathing quickened. The dead bodies of his enemies lie strewn about at his feet. The fuhrer would have been proud. Anger rose inside Heiderich, as he thought about his supposed 'leader'. 'All along, we were meant to be pawns in his hands, huh...?'
, the tired man thought, 'Every single one of us. And in the end, he abandoned us...killing himself with his wife and kids. We were going to be great! We were going to be leaders of his world! He had all the power in the world...and then...those damn Americans interrupted. And he just gave up!'
A groan came out from under him, and a hand clasped eagerly at his ankle. Looking down promptly, he cried out in pain as a knife was lodged deep into his leg. Quickly, Heiderich reached for his gun strapped to his belt. Blue eyes came into contact with something surprising- a German soldier, bearing the brotherhood's symbol upon his helmet. Heiderich faltered.
"Hund..." The soldier coughed out, "Sie hund(1)..."
Heiderich's eyes widened, his brow furrowing in anger. "Was haben Sie mich gerufen?!(2)" He practically screamed, aiming the gun at the soldier's forehead.
"Sie haben uns verlassen zu sterben...(3)" the soldier grunted, twisting the blade deeper- earning a howl of pain from the assaultee, "Heiderich der Hund...sie werden in Hölle verbrennen...(4)"
With a scream, he pulled the trigger- blowing straight into the soldier's brains as he fell to the ground- away from his leg. He reached down, ripping the knife from his leg with another grunt of pain. Looking down, panting, Heiderich spat on the man underneath him. "Sie haben es kommend, Vater gehabt.(5)"
(1)- "Dog..." / "You Dog..."
(2)- "What did you call me?!"
(3)- "You left us to die..."
(4)- "Heiderich the dog...you will burn in hell..."
(5)- "You had it coming, father."
just a small excerpt from something I wrote quickly. The German is broken and probably FULL of speech and grammatical errors and such- don't correct them, I'll never finish this with anything else. was just something I wanted to get out of my systemm.
|Tuesday, October 7th, 2008|
There are times when I feel like I'm growing selfish. I don't feel like I'm making any sense to myself. One minute, I'm happy--the next, I'm hating my life. Wishing I was never born.
Which is it? Do you love yourself? Or do you hate yourself so much that you wish it had ended years ago? You're pathetic. The way you cling to everything just to save yourself from becoming the insane, psychotic freak you are. You laugh when others cry. You cry when others laugh. You live when others die, and you wish to die when others live. Nothing seems to work out right for you, and you only wallow in your own self-pity...hoping something will come along to save you. Hoping that, by some slim chance, time will clock backwards and you can go back to a time when nothing else mattered. A time when you weren't so insane, and you knew you had the world at your fingers. It was yours for the melding...but you still couldn't do it. Even back then...you were just a reject child and a problem to feuding ex-lovers. A tool used as a toy for tug-of-war. Never once did you take your own advice and fight back---tell them to stop.
I wish you were never born. I wish everything would backtrack. I wish I was never such an influence on anyone. Maybe, without you, everyone would be okay. Maybe people would be happier? And maybe you'd stop bothering them with your problems and esteem issues hidden behind an ego the size of the entire planet.
I wish you wouldn't sit there with your smug-ass look, smirking and laughing as other people told jokes--when inside, you wanted to scream. You wanted to scream so hard; tell them to get away. Tell them to leave you alone...to stop pretending like they like you. As you try to regain what you lost through new people, you realize your plan was an absolute failure. A mistake---completely ridden and thought out on one dramatic whim. It was supposed to work. I was supposed to be different. They were supposed to like me. I was supposed to live.
But in the end, you find yourself dead. You find yourself drifting aimlessly through two mediums, unaware of your surroundings. Open your eyes, you're in one place...close them, and the next second you're somewhere else. Without really knowing how you got there. Things pass by so fast, and it's already too late to correct the mistake you made. It's already too far in to make it right again.
But a light comes, and suddenly you find yourself again. For a brief and shining moment, you know where you are. You realize your situation and you understand. It might be too late, but you feel as if you have the strength to move on. To pick up, dust off, and start anew. You find yourself in this person, despite personal belief that such a thing is completely impossible. But still, you feel selfish--obnoxious and imposing. Abrasive. This becomes a problem for you...and you can't seem to sort your personal issues out from your relationships with other people...you feel as though it's your fault. As though you weren't worth the effort...you tear people away from their comfort zones and 'force' them to stay in their disabled situations. You interfere with people. You confuse them. Even though happiness is an option anywhere, you convince them that their only option is anywhere nearby you. SELFISH.
Suddenly--you feel yourself depleting. People disapprove of what you've become...who you've changed into. You feel worthless and hopeless and completely uncaring of what happens to you, despite your crazy situation.
But at the same time, you find yourself desperate. Desperate to reach out and tell everyone of your experiences...your life...life secrets...experiences...
You don't want them to make the same mistake. You want them to know why you hurt so much. Why they need to protect themselves. But in reality, you are no example of self-righteousness, so you keep your mouth shut. Just like the rest of them.
You're a pathetic loser with a sense for drama. You attract all attention to yourself and still demand that they leave you be. What do you want? Who do you want to be? A rock star? A typical teenager with an unrealistic desire--grow up
You want to run away. You want to be forgotten, like you eventually will be. You want to be somewhere where no one will know what a horrible person you are. You want to escape...you want to be someone else. You want to forget. You want it all to disappear. You want it all to go away; to just close your eyes and it to all end. Selfish. Coward.
You're a loser. You deserve all the grief you get.
Your existence is horrible. And now you're losing everything again. And it's all your fault. Pathetic cunt.
Befitting a dramatic, clingy, hurt, stupid, hypocritical loser.
[[I don't want to be like this anymore. I just want it all to stop. I want to get away. I want to leave. I don't want to lose anymore.]]"No I don't wanna battle from beginning to end;
I don't wanna cycle, recycle revenge;
I don't wanna follow death and all his friends."Who am I if I'm not one of them...? Current Mood: listless
|Sunday, August 3rd, 2008|
I asked once, to many people, "what inspires you?" Surprisingly, the majority vote was: "I don't know". With some, I had made a connection this way. With others, I burned bridges. I thought I could rely so heavily on what I deemed "inspiring", that everything I needed would stay where it was. Everything would remain perfectly framed, so long as I could do what made me most happy. But as time goes on, and you rely so much on that inspiration to pull you through that heavy medium of uncertainty and nostalgia, you feel yourself slip away.
When you get older, you get more mature. You realize life can't only be about your hobby [or, in this case, inspiration]...especially if the inspiration isn't exactly good for the idealistic, steady, future home. The more you realize this, the more you feel lost. The more you try to cling to a time when people understood and recognized you for what you're clinging to.
When I moved, I thought I was going to be able to let go. I thought I could start over---fresh, if you will. But inspiration...friends...people from your past can remain burned into your memory forever. For me, people from that time period before I moved, remain in my mind. Because that was a point and time where I could relate most to my dream. I think, initially, that's why it was hardest for me to let go. I didn't want to lose the things that helped me cope. So, instead of doing so, I became something I wasn't. My entire life after moving was a complete lie. And moving was definitely the biggest mistake I ever made--I eliminated so many chances...so many bridges I could have taken, just because I didn't want to go through what I experienced again. It was like...one bad thing happened, then the next minute, another came. Things were happening like rapid-fire...and I didn't mean it to turn out like it did.
I convinced myself a new life would be good. A new life would give me opportunities. But I only fooled myself. I was so unhappy, for the longest time. I didn't know who I was, or what I was trying to be. I didn't know where the hell I was trying to go, or what I had originally intended to base my life off of. I had lost everything that meant anything to me: A home, a parent, friends, a relationship, an inspiration, an idea. I wanted to get away. I wanted to go somewhere that no one would know me--where I could start over, so I wouldn't have to face my own problems. But like I said, I was unhappy. On the highest of levels. I bit my lip and moved on. The first mistake was the relationship I got involved in a week after the previous one. I was not, by a long shot, over the other one. My second mistake was assuming I could run away from my problems. But all they did was follow me, anywhere I went...everything I tried. I couldn't get rid of it.
On a related note, some of you have heard me say that I want to go somewhere far away when I get older. I want to go somewhere. But the issue is, I might not come back. No one may ever hear from me again. Is this what I want? I don't know---but I have a feeling it's related to what I mentioned above---wanting to get away and be someone else. It was out of my own selfishness. I wanted to leave everything behind. I want to be/go everywhere. But it's different now---I want to inspire people. I want to help them. I want to show them that life isn't only about keeping yourself locked in a daze, unaware of everything that's spinning around you...life doesn't have to be about regrets and wanting to disappear.
To those about to cry.
Everything is alright.
I promise this, at least for you---even if the same can't be said for me.
|Tuesday, July 1st, 2008|
A moment can sit still and thick in the air. Some moments, you feel as though you have no idea as to what's going on...no matter how simple the happenings. Other moments, they seem so unreal...so fake, that the very outcome depends on what you'll do next. But when you're caught between these moments, it's like being hung from a string, suspended in the air. You control everything from tiny puppet strings, but you can't move your hands. You struggle to understand the concept--to analyze every outcome. But your mind wont function. Your mind doesn't want
to figure it out.
But being trapped in this constant state of confusion and paralysis is hard.
The point is:
frustration is hard.
And it's hard to control the moments.
I didn't want anything to do with it originally.
Nothing happens. Because of what I perceive to be "intuition".
Even bringing this to attention, it will get me no where.
|Tuesday, May 20th, 2008|
Imagine yourself someplace else. Someplace far away from here---completely unknown or untouched to/by mankind. In this place, there is a field...it stretches for miles and miles---as far as the eye can see. There are no people for miles, and the only things that are noticeable are a few tall, green trees [so tall, you get dizzy staring up at them]...and the beautiful, crystal blue sky. You slowly start to walk through the field, with the high grass brushing against your ankles as you go. Your eyes gaze at the small flowers that pop up here and there. They reflect the sky---blue, red, purple, yellow...and all brilliant in color. As you walk, you can feel a certain itch in your legs...and as you feel this, you are feeling that you need to speed up. But as you do so, you continue to take up speed. Eventually, you are compelled to run. And you do---you run as fast as your legs will take you, your hair whipping behind you. A smile breaks out on your lips at this exhilarating feeling...this feeling of freedom
The further you run, the grass starts to grow taller, and soon you're running through a sea of grass. Whilst running, you can hear rustling in the grass---you know someone else is running with you, but you can't see who...finally, the tall grass breaks back into small grass. You look to your left and see none other than the one you care about most. And as they look at you, your smile is returned. Their face shines brilliantly upon you, as if reflecting all their positive feelings unto you...then your head turns back to your set path, and you keep running. All the while laughing---but there is no sound. Because silence is golden
After a while, your legs give out. You tumble to the ground, but it's okay because the grass is soft and cushions your fall. As you fall onto the grass, you land on your back. You stare up at the sky, and watch as the silken-white clouds float gently across the sky---as if they were running in their own race to freedom. A smile hangs gently on your lips and you feel the grass next to you shift as your running partner falls to your side. Their laughter, unlike yours, resonates into the air...and suddenly, you're laughing too. It comes from your throats like colorful music, illuminating the empty space in front of your eyes and hanging in the air long after it's done. When all quiets again, you both lay and stare at the clouds pass by. It's a slow race, but surely one of them will get to the end--this is something you're sure of.
Then, your partner sits up. They lean over you and smile...a knowing twinkle in their eyes--your troubles seem to wash away in this moment, and you forget everything else but this moment in time. And as they lean in, your eyes softly close and you're swept into pure bliss.
Imagine spending the rest of your days here.
Without worry. Without sorrows. Without burden, and without regrets.
This is all I used to dream about when I was a little girl...
...I wish I could go there now.
|Monday, January 14th, 2008|
"Okay, here goes:
YOU. Are pretty much amazing. You are quiet and introspective and intelligent and astounding. You are the epitome of a survivor of what life throws at people and you go through your everyday life with grace and humility and kindness. You have changed a lot since I have first met you- you are more confident, secure, happy, outgoing, dare I say: more fantastic than you were as a freshman. Freshman. Haha, freshman stink. Hardcore."
I remember when I thought of myself that way, too.
...after all that's happened to me.
The only thing I can say:
I'd give ANYTHING to sit through one more band class at WHS.
|Monday, July 30th, 2007|
|The Loss of a Friend. [The Recesses of My Mind]
Do you all remember when we were young children? When there were no problems, and we could just look up to our parents and have comfort in knowing that they'd protect us. I remember thinking that when I'd look up at my father. But when I'd look up at my father...I also got scared. Because I would look and see something missing. I didn't see a mother standing up there with him. I was frightened. I wondered where my mother was. What happened to her, and when
it happened. I can distinctly remember crying in my room, wishing that my mother would come in and comfort me to sleep. I'd get my father, which was just as good, but never quite as satisfying [at first]. But then the fear came again...what was my mother like? When I went to see her, was it all just a cheap ruse? The earliest age I can remember is two years old...when my parents divorced. I don't remember anything before that. I don't know what they were like before they divorced. I don't remember anything. I want to ask my brothers, but I'm afraid of the answer. Because, over the years, I learned to love my dad as my primary parent. Kind of unintentionally shoved my mother-issues off into the corner and decided that I "loved my daddy" more then anyone in the world. NO ONE could compare. And that
is the earliest thought I remember having.
But then I remember someone else. A man with dark hair and glasses. And a woman with the same very vague description, except a bit shorter in size. Another is a young boy, also with dark hair. Years later, there'd be a fourth edition to the family. But my point is that these people soon became my second family. They were my uncle, aunt, cousin Mark, and later-born cousin Nicola. Another of my earliest memories is sitting on my dad's bed, where the only ID phone was, and waiting for them to call--to invite me over to see them and possibly spend the night. Why was I always so excited to go over? I can't answer that honestly, because I really don't know. But I've made myself think that it's possibly because since they were my second family...it was a family to look up to and see both parents. Man and woman. Husband and wife. Uncle and Aunt. They loved each other so much, and it was such a nice household [except for the occasional shout or two from their son--my cousin. what do you expect from a little kid, right? they yell a lot] it was like a safe-haven to me. I loved being there...I loved staying there...I still do. And the other person that I spoke of? My cousin. My best friend. My reason for smiling. My reason for laughing. My reason for loving life. My reason for feeling at home
But lately, I notice the household in a lot of tension. I don't visit them too often anymore. And I don't get as excited as I used to. And I hate to say it, but it all revolves around that one boy who used to be the all my reasons for everything. I try to beat myself up for me saying that [not literally, mentally]. I can't believe it when it comes from my mouth. But it does. And I hate myself for it. I feel like I'm betraying the one person who's supported me a little more then everyone else. For being there. But then I think about it. Was I as important to him as he was to me? Love was apparently one of his more important aspects to him. And as he became more unsuccessful in this field, he increased his need to tell me how he needed a girlfriend. How he needed someone else
to be happy. Not me. Not the one person who would do anything for her best friend and family member. Someone who wasn't me. I know that I can't be his absolute number one...I know that all too well, cause he's not mine [I don't know who IS, really]. But I wonder if he ever held me on such a high pedastil as he said he did. I find it hard to believe that he ever did.
I feel like I don't know who he is anymore. For one, he's rude. And extremely disrespectful. Especially towards his parents. He "cops an attitude" extremely often, without even a justifying reason, then looks to me to make sure I agree with him. I never do. He doesn't listen. It's those times when I sit back and wonder: "where on earth did he learn that
?" Because, I know for a fact that our dearly departed grandmother would turn in her grave if she knew the way he acted [she taught me my manners and how to be polite, along with what I got from my dad]. How could anyone ever talk to the woman who GAVE BIRTH to him that way? [I know..."You shouldn't talk, Lizzy". Well, my reasons were justified. I at least treat my mother in a civil way, unless she sets me off with some more of her words]. The woman who made everything possible for him? I know if I were her, he would've either been kicked out or grounded for a good-long time. I admire how she can put up with it...truly a marvel to behold [haha. I sound weird]. It's hard to see a friend slip away...it's harder, I imagine, to see your own SON slip away. I can't imagine her pain. Not at all...
He also tends to whine about his life. His parents. His sister. And I don't understand this...I remember my fear and then I look at him and say: "...what's so scary about your life?" I feel like he's trying to compare himself to me. And again, this feels like betrayal. Not to him---but to me
. I don't mean to pull the "woe is me"-card, but seriously. His parents and his sister are the nicest people I've ever met [I mean...come on. Has his mother ever told him he basically ruined the whole family? caused a "rift"? didn't think so]. How could he say
those things about them? Is it even legal
? I'm not sure. It shouldn't be. Not to mention that if his parents were as bad as he says they are, his sister would be just as bad...right? WRONG
. His sister is the most wonderful girl in the world. True, I may be a little harsh on her when making fun of her...but it's all in good fun. I love that girl with my life---almost as much as I used to love her brother. And I see him...BULLY her and push her around...manipulating
her. It cracks at my sanity inside. It takes all I have not to just wind up and sock him in the face. She's such a sweet, awesome young girl...who could ever be so mean to her? I wish she would tell me more of when he's ever hurt her--I want to know...so I can help set it straight. My siblings and I aren't so close. I don't want that for them. And if he ends up hating her? Oh well, his loss...cause, quite frankly...it doesn't matter. He seems to be the type who'd just up and leave and never speak to his family again. Besides, I'll
be there for her. I'll be her "big sister". I'll be what he doesn't seem to be for her. ["I forgot she had braces". Pff. Yeah, right. Liar]
And I get sad because I feel my confidence in him slowly slipping away. I can't look at him and say: "That's my best friend". And he scares me in that way. He knows everything about me. He knows my life. He knows my secrets. He knows my feelings. At any time, he could use that against me. And I know he would. I can feel it. I just wish he wouldn't. Because if that happens---everything he's told me about himself, will be open to the world. I don't keep secrets for people who have no sense of control and tell mine.
And I hurt because I know that if something ever happens to him and his current girlfriend [who he loves so much], I know I won't be there for him. I can't. So many times have I had to endure stupidity for that relationship ["he should really be trying to call you. oh well, he's an idiot". Call my boyfriend an idiot again, and I'll beat you. You have no right to judge anybody, mister "possessive-obsessive-i need to be around my girlfriend 24/7"-jerk. as if you should give advice...stay out of it unless I ASK for your opinion]. I don't get calls from him anymore. We don't hang out. I never get called to come out [by him. I know my aunt has offered, but I've really been waiting for him
to ask me. just once]. He's always talking to his girlfriend. Especially at 5 in the morning before work in the middle of a thunder storm [Him: "Hi, baby, I miss you..." / Me: *huddled under blankets* "Shut up, shut up, shut up"]. And other reasons ensue. During the whole thing, he hasn't really been there for me. And as of right now, I'm a generally unhappy person. My actual friends live miles away and I don't see them often, I miss Walpole like crazy, I'm confused and I don't know what I want, I don't know what to do with my future, I don't really like myself as a person, [despite everyone's "you're wonderful!"-comments about me] and I have superb issues with my mother. I have a councellor for these things, yes? But sometimes I like to know his opinion. But those opinions either get turned into something about himself
or have no real relevance to the conversation. I get nothing from him anymore.
And so, I have nothing left to say, really. I'm crying now [no surprise], but I feel slightly relieved. But also angry. Very angry.
I end this entry with the last statement.
I want to know where my best friend went. Because...without him, I'm becoming scared again.
Much love from a disgruntled writer who is apologetic for writing such a long entry for the first time, ever,
[It's times like these that I wish I could look up and see my father. There was such a distance between him and I. He seemed like he was a million miles away...him being so close to the sky, and me so close to the ground. He was so tall...I'd get dizzy looking up at him sometimes. But I just want to look up and have faith in knowing everything would turn out okay. That I'd be fine and be content in knowing that he'll protect me. I want to look up and be dizzy until I puke. I want to see him standing by himself above me, looking back at my with pride as he comes into my room and comforts me until I can sleep. Comfort me in knowing that I'm losing my best friend. I wonder if Mark ever feels like that. I wonder if he's scared. I wonder if...he wants to look up, too...and just go back to when there wasn't any care in the world. I wish he did. I really do] Current Mood: stressed
|Tuesday, April 3rd, 2007|
|Reliving the Past? Quite Possible, Very Probable.
Today is a confusing post. I'm not sure what to say here, because right now I'm unsure as to what to say to anything I'm feeling. Though, I do
feel a build-up of feelings. But they aren't coming out so I can live normally. This was brought to my FULL attention by my [now ex-]boyfriend, who noticed I wasn't really happy at all, lately.
I feel very apprehensive, cautious, and ready to strike down anybody who would try to hurt me or get in my way. Another thing is that I feel my chest get tighter. Not like...physically, but you know how when you get nervous or you're expecting something bad, and like...your body locks up? Mine is doing that. Even right now.
I've got a lot on my mind, I guess. My grandfather is having real bad heart problems, and that's what started all this, I think. It's come to a point where he's having brief periods of time in which his heart stops completely [for a minute or two]. I'm so worried for him. Everyone keeps telling me, "at least he'll be out of pain". But...I just don't see that.
Not to mention I've noticed steadily increasing tension between my father and I. I'm snapping at him and lashing out a lot more than I ever used to. I don't like that. I hate
that. Because it reminds me of someone who does that, and it makes me want to rip my hair out of my boney head.
And I don't know why I feel like I'm just dying inside lately. I'm generally sad, depressed [same thing?], mopey, and all around mean. Even when I feel relaxed, I can always feel something else stabbing and picking at the back of my mind. It bloody sucks.
But here's where I get worried. When I lived with my mother, every year...I would suffer at least ONE complete
and utter meltdown. Not like normal, when I'm just sad. But COMPLETELY. I yell and cry and nearly suffocate myself in my blankets. I question everything and all that I know completely destroys itself and becomes unclear. It's scary...because when that happens, I don't feel like I'm myself [obviously not]. I thought I'd left that behind at my mom's house. But I guess not...That familliar feeling of building, unknown feelings...it scares me.
Sometimes I wish I could just explode and relieve all the tension that way.
Wouldn't it be nice?
~Lizzy Current Mood: nervous
|Wednesday, February 7th, 2007|
|A prophecy: I am going to fail.
Well, my friends.
I haven't posted in a million years, it seems, and now I'm finally coming back to try and post here regularly---Not as if it matters. No one reads anything I write anyhow.
At any rate, today's "Ranting Topic" would be about my future.
Yes, that's right. My future in life. Many a time I have joked about becoming a hobo that possibly lives in a box and feasts on rotten bagels every night. But that's not what I really want--Of course it's not! What do I want to do? I want to be a graphic designer, of course! I want to go to college for Art, and become a graphic designer. I can get additional training from my Aunt [[also, my namesake, Aunt Elizabeth]] who is also a graphic designer--A very successful one, at that. And I know that all this must happen.
But suddenly, I have a chit-chat of sorts with my elder brother, Steven. He tells me that I won't get into college. That I won't be able to pay, and that my father wouldn't EVER co-sign a loan for school; nor would I be elligable for student loans. And, again, suddenly, I begin to severely doubt my plans for the future.
"What's the big deal?"-you ask. Well, I'll tell you. This is my future. I hardly plan out ANYTHING, EVER. And I've graciously taken my time in my life to plan this out. Exactly what I want to do, and how I'm going to do it. I never ever made plans about what would happen if I couldn't make it into college. I never even let it cross my mind. If I don't make it into college, I basically fail at life. I become another over-the-hill bartender, with three kids who hate her, a severe smoking problem, and a dump-of-a-house. I don't want that. I DON'T WANT THAT AT ALL.
Steven. I don't want to be another mom. I'm trying my hardest. I really am. To not be like her. To be successful, and actually make something out of myself. I'm not centering this on myself on purpose, but I've struggled so much. Everywhere from depression, suicide, fear, and hatred. I've experianced what it's like to not have enough money to do things, and I know
you have too. I don't want to have that happen again. Granted, I may get a job if I don't make it. But I won't be happy
. I want to be able to support myself. I want to be able to help my future husband support us. I want to be able to support my children
. Because if I have to exist in a world where I can barely keep food on the table, then I might as well just not live
So, my dearest brother.
You are unfair, and your words hurt.
I don't plan on being a failure. I hope you understand that.
[[note: this actually sounded kinda suicdial towards the end? I mean nothing by it, I'm merely speaking figuratively.]] Current Mood: distressed
|Tuesday, March 14th, 2006|
Alright! I finally made enough provisions on this thing! I deleted MANY old entries, thank god. Some of those were just embaressing. As for now, this will be the new look to my LJ. I didn't make it, though. So I feel kinda weird about using this layout. But whatever.
Anywho, look for new entries from me. I shall be using this alot more than I used to, haha =D
Lizzzzzzz Current Mood: accomplished