on Wed Aug 12, 2009 8:51 pm by Eternity (Online)

 on Wed Aug 12, 2009 11:40 pm by Eternity (Online)

Sometimes you realize that you can only take so much. A lot of people know their limits, and at the same time, a lot of people don't. A lot of people underestimate their limits. They think that they can only take so much, when in truth, they could take much more. The past week or so of my life has been kind of stressful, basically because of two main events that have happened.

The first was a fight with my mother. She found out that I had said, on Facebook, that I was ready to leave home, because Halifax only had for me now a diploma. Which was truthful; because once I get my diploma, I'd like to leave. There's no way I can become anything here. Not anything or anyone successful. I was sitting in my room talking to Bucci when she came in, demanding I tell her what I had said. Finally, when my internet told me that the "Address Could Not Be Found", she took the laptop and stormed off, and then came back. She told me I was kicked out. But that resolved somewhat quickly, when she returned after having told me pack my bags. She told me I was un-kicked out. She demanded to know why I said those things. Wanted to know if I had said that because of my boyfriend. If I was going to up and leave and move to New Hampshire just to follow some boy. That wasn't the situation at all.

You see, High School is going to be so different this year. The majority of my extremely close friends were seniors these past two years. And now, I'm a senior. And about 98% of my friends are... gone. They're moving on, getting lives, going where I'd like to go. It's harder for me now. I don't feel the same without knowing that I'm going to go, and see them there. My cousin Evan, my friends Robbie, Jason, Lewis, Jake, and Ashton (even though Ashton's been gone). It's a hard concept. Though it's okay. I'll be fine. I'll get over it.

Regardless.

The day after our fight, I packed up and came over to my grandmother's house. Staying with the Damianos for a while. It's nice to get away, especially since my mother is going on vacation herself. She and her boyfriend rode out to Maggie Valley, and she cheered up. She also apologized, which I highly respect. It's good for her to apologize to me; admitting that she doesn't want to let me go, and how much the thought frightens her. But she went off on vacation, and I came here. Nerves slightly shot, but I managed. I tried to get over my little rock-in-the-road, and be fine. And it worked.

I talked to Bucci, and slept in, relaxed, and played some video games that Bucci left me before he went home last week. It was nice, and distracting, and I was feeling good. But no good feeling lasts forever.

Yesterday, August 11th, were two events that seemed to break me even more- especially when paired with my sore throat at the time.

First off, let me tell you about my great grandmother. She's 95. She's frail, and stubborn, and I love her. Last summer, for those of you who remember, she had a seizure in the kitchen and it scared me shitless.

Well, yesterday, at 7:13 a.m., I woke up to the sound of a familiar voice. It was quiet and frail. It was panicked. It was saying "Help me, I fell, help me please, hurry please, I fell"... I so immediately registered what had happened. My great grandmother had fallen down. I launched myself off of my grandmother's bed and sped into the hallway, and slammed my fist onto my grandpa's door. I screamed as well as my lungs would let me so early in the morning.

"Granny fell! Granny fell!"

I then turned and ran into granny's room, and found her in the floor. She had fallen straight down while trying to turn and sit on her potty. She had fallen in such a way that her legs folded back and beneath her. She was hurting, crying, yelling. I saw her, and I jerked the potty away and to the side. She leaned up and then slipped back, and I heard something in her leg snap. I thought she had broken it, but I was thankfully wrong. I wrapped my hands underneath her arms and leaned inwards. I crouched and scooped her up; but it was early and I was weak. I lifted her up, but not enough to get her on the bed. I made it so that the pressure was off of her legs. I called for grandpa and she cried again, struggling a bit. I saw grandpa fly in and he grabbed her alongside me, and we got her up on the bed. She laid down and had a knot beneath her left knee. She was whimpering, but once she laid down, she quieted down.

I helped grandpa get her panties off because they were tangled around her legs, and pulled her dress down. I pulled the blankets up over her and asked if she was okay. Grandpa looked at her leg and we weren't sure what was wrong. I had a feeling her leg was broke, or her ankle was broke. But granny said she was okay, merely laid down and stayed quiet. She was upset.

Finally after a few minutes, she agreed to getting an ambulance down here. So the ambulance came, and grandma was trying to get dressed; but she wasn't going to get ready in time. So I got ready. I was going to go. I'd go with granny to the hospital. Because she definitely wasn't going alone.

So I rode up front until we got to the ER, and from there, I walked next to her. We got into room number 10 in the ER. We waited a while, and a nurse came. Took her blood pressure, heart rate, and whatnot; but didn't hook anything up to her. They were rough with her when they took her into the X-Ray room, and then brought her back. Overall, it was a few hours spent until Linda got there. And Linda was talkative, and I love Linda; I do. But she talking too much, and she acted inappropriately around a freshly fallen senior like granny. Finally, we left. Linda complained about everything the whole ride.

Finally, I got home, and I cried, but not for long. Grandpa caught me. I stopped and popped some Tylanol before facing the crowd, getting something to eat, and finally laying down. After laying down, I had to get up. My ease was not here yet.

I went to open house, and felt totally awkward. The girls there, I had forgotten about them. They were skinny and perfect- but also artificial. Most were ninth graders. Slender with painted on clothes and short shorts. Their skin was orange, their hair bleached blond with dark roots and eyebrows. Their make up was perfect and they were just fake. Perfectly fake. It irritated the shit out of me at first sight. Have any of these girls any morals? Any values or virtues or care for themselves?

I don't know...

I stood in line for the guidance counselor for about thirty minutes, and without result. As soon as I sat down, Ms. Palmore said she couldn't even help me. I cursed quietly to myself which made a few people laugh, and then I went into the lobby. I decided I'd go on and pay my fees, then get my schedule. They messed that up to. Gave me Computer Information Systems (CIS) College Level, but I've already taken and passed that. Then they gave me Finance, and let me tell you that I can't even count- even when I use my hands.

And might I add that throughout this, my throat has been hurting. White spots have been appearing in the back of my throat, and it's been hard to swallow. I feel horribly as is... But...

I got home, and I called Bucci, over and over almost. But I could barely reach him. It was "Speak, like the Reverend" over and over. No rings... Finally, I got online and talked to one of my best friends Everett, and felt a little better to rant. And then Bucci called me, and I ended up crying; again. And I laid down at about five a.m.

Five a.m., I had laid down in grandpa's room. And I finally slept...

Finally...

After a whole day of nerve damage.



~Arie J.~

 on Fri Aug 14, 2009 9:20 pm by Eternity (Online)

Family is so important, to everyone. A family doesn't have to be made of blood, but can be made of interlocked hearts. A home, a people, a collection of common ideals. A family is something we need. We strive best with a family around us, to support us.

Well, my family is a strong one. My mother is very close to me, though her parents are not as close. I love my grandmother and grandfather on her side, but I never really got to connect with them. They are quirky, and I love them for that.

Now my father's side of the family is very close to me. Now my father is someone I'm not so close to. I didn't grow up with him, and he's always been very odd and super protective. But I love him; even though he's totally obscene and weird. But it's his parents that I stick to. My grandma and grandpa on his side.

Grandma Joyce is the most soft-hearted and gentle creature you could imagine. She's gingerly humorous and sweet, with a good set of wisdom about her.
Grandpa Paul is a strong soul, set on his goals and protective of his family. He is also a joker, who has so many stories to tell that speak a good lesson.

But the family extends beyond these two; the two that seemed to do most of the spoiling with me (as most grandparents do). There is the infamous Aunt Linda, the tasteful Aunt Kathy, Uncle Daryl, cousins Jessica and Justin, and so forth and so on.

And like all ''normal'' families, there is no such thing as normal. If you read my previous entry entitled "Nerve Damage", then you know about the recent occurrences with my great grandmother. Now I want you to think of my granny like the boss. The main boss. She lives with my grandma and grandpa, but she is the final word in any argument. But being her age, she doesn't really jump into the drama anymore; though a lot of the times, she is somehow stuck in the dead center of it. Well, Linda is, as some would put it, the ''problem child''. She is my grandmother's sister. And she has a bit of a bad streak in her. Not bad as in behavior being bad or rebellious. She does help out; but she's manipulative and abusive. And she complains about everyone else, and makes it seem as though she saves this family from pure destruction.

Now yesterday marked two days since granny fell. We took her to the ER here in town, but they aren't exactly the place where you want to go if you're actually hurt. So they sent her home, having told her to stay in bed and not to move her leg because they believed it to be ''chipped'' along the bone. Well, we called her doctor, only to talk to her answering machine. So yesterday morning we decided we'd get MedTran to take her to the ER in Lynchburg. So I'm going to skip the middle grounds, and just say that MedTran took her to the ER there.

They looked after her, and said that her leg was fractured, and it might as well be broken. Well Linda went with granny to Lynchburg, and relayed information back to us. Well, by last night, things had just gotten jolly as can be. Now before I tell you what happened, I'm going to explain a little bit about my Aunt Kathy.

Kathy is Linda's daughter, but Linda didn't really raise her, my grandma did. Thus, Linda clings to Kathy now almost as if to make up for the mother-daughter bonding that didn't happen. She is a mother to my two cousins, Justin and Jessica, who are both in their early twenties now. They both have children too, who Kathy also babysits. Jessica's child is the youngest, named Olivia. And Justin's are Cody and Kaylie, who are five and three. Kathy is also a breast-cancer survivor. She has no job, and loves to sew; but ever since she got rid of her cancer, she's had her hands full. Poor Kathy doesn't get a break half the time.

Well, Linda was in the hospital with granny, doing her usual thing. Trying to play the superhero in such a way as to reap all the benefits of the situation. Thus, she made a wonderful offer that ''appeared'' so perfect. It was the offer that when granny gets out of the hospital, she rides MedTran back to Kathy's house, and stays with Kathy until she heals her leg. Now Kathy would take care of her during the week, with Linda's part-time help, and Linda would handle the weekend shift while Kathy babysits. Now Kathy just realized from this that she'd get to help her grandma, which meant the world to her. So of course, she accepted this offer.

And it was too late.

But she called my grandma, and my grandma set her straight. You see, my grandma and grandpa have been taking care of granny for years; they know the true trials of having to do this. You see, granny has regressed to the requirements of a young child. She needs company, and she needs it on an almost constant basis. She loves Fox News, and Kathy sadly doesn't have Fox News. As well, she'll be bedridden. Soiling herself, in need of pan baths, and feeding. And Linda is not going to show up as often as she speaks of. When Linda realizes that this means responsibility, she will most likely back down a bit. And what will Kathy be doing when she's babysitting all three kids on the weekend and is unable to sit with granny and keep her company?

Granny will become quickly dissatisfied, and Kathy will have a mental breakdown- if her husband doesn't first.

Let me tell you something else. I don't know if the men of this family are smarter than the women, or just more short-tempered. Daryl- Kathy's husband- is just like my grandpa, in the fact that he is within a hair's length of snapping off Linda's head and giving her a double-dose of reality to put her back in her place. Would it do any good? Probably tons for a good while, but it would tear up granny's nerves. How would granny find out? Linda would run to her like a sad child with a broken toy, and she would whine.

Thus, Kathy has now been tricked into a major plot that will allow Linda to have a reason to be up her ass, as well as to have Linda a reason to boast about how much she takes care of this family.

And you see, another thing is, that Linda has pulled this kind of thing before. She may complain and say that she does so much for this family, and for granny, and gets nothing but disrespect in return; but that's extremely false. You see, she never does anything unless there is some benefit for her. She won't go out unless she's already going out, and in that direction. She won't come over to grandma's to help granny until it's around dinner time, so that she can step in and go, "oh look, what's for dinner?". It's the same old same old.

But, hey, what can you do? I thought I'd put this little bit up for now, as this is not fully complete. I may add a few more installments under this name, because I'd like to simply see how this new situation is going to play out. Look for more in the Family Feud as the drama continues.




~Arie J.~

 on Sun Aug 16, 2009 12:28 am by Eternity (Online)

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just weak, or if the world knows all my flaws so perfectly as to anonymously peck at them until I break. I believe that no one knows that some things hurt me, because the fault lies within myself. I'm so open to be attacked. When I care too much, and I try to be perfect. I fail. I fail every time...

Today was (oddly enough) a good day. I hung out with my good friend Boo from about 1 p.m. until 11 p.m. We went out to eat and had sushi, General's Chicken, and a few other things; and then we went home and played around. We went out again and shopped for a good while, then returned home for a while more, and finally he took me home. I had been having a hard time lately. I've been with my grandmother, and stressing over the whole situation of my great grandmother's fall; paired with oncoming school and difficulties elsewhere. Well, today was a good day. I had fun, and my antibiotics are kicking in enough that my throat is starting to feel better as well. So, I'm going to just start off from having gotten home...

I was happy. I was happy for a few reasons. I'd gotten away from home, was one. I wasn't here at my grandma's, and I wasn't home. I was elsewhere; where I could just enjoy myself for a bit. I was also out with a friend. After having had all my friends basically move on with their lives, Boo is one of the few I've got left. And finally, today was perhaps the first day that Boo hadn't tried to really make a pass at me.

So I come inside, and I look at my phone. Rick hasn't called me. Rick (or Bucci, depending on how I'm speaking about him) might've been waiting online. So I cut on the laptop and let it load up in the living room while I went into my grandma's bedroom. There, I plopped down and told her how nice I felt, and how today's little getaway soothed my nerves. By the time I had gotten done, I'd noticed that I was hungry. And so I went back into the living room and got on the internet, signing onto MSN, so that if Rick got online, I'd be there waiting and he'd know I was alive. Then, I went into the kitchen and heated me up something to eat, and returned. I fixed my grandmother something to drink, as I did myself, then I sat down and ate. Afterward, I cleaned up my mess and returned, sitting down and meddling through FOG as I usually do.

Well, Rick finally got online.

I was glad of this because I had recently read a Facebook status of his that suggested that maybe a friend had betrayed or used him. I felt bad, and I was excited about talking to him. I always love to talk to him, and anticipate speaking to him every day. Well, today he got online MSN. I smiled to myself and typed a quick "Hey baby!" to his coming on.

His response was similar in excitement, and thus the conversation stirred kind of like it usually does. He acted a bit sad, but said it was because of something as simple as a video game ending. I knew that the friend thing was on his mind, so I asked about it. He said it was nothing and that he didn't want to talk about it. I reminded him that I didn't want to be shoved into his business, but I did want to be assured he was okay- and I want to know when he isn't. So, then we had another conversation topic flow inwards. Our next visit.

I told him the truth, when he asked. Which was that I doubt I'd be able to go all the way up there- 700 or more miles- before I turn eighteen. Simply because my mother is stuck on not wanting me to go. But he doesn't want to come back down here, since my mother has made a bad impression on him with her behavior and off and on lying to him. And when I told him I didn't think I'd be able to visit him for Christmas, he told me that he was sorry, but he didn't feel like talking anymore. I felt bad all of a sudden, as I told him I loved him. He responded the same thing to me, and I was typing more to him... But he went offline, merely saying; "The fault isn't on you, it's something someone else did. And I love you Arie."

As soon as I watched him disappear offline, I slowly finished my message and got offline myself, staring hard at the avatar of my boyfriend, surrounded by a clear square ring that meant he was offline. And for reasons unsure to myself, I began to cry quietly to myself. I had really wanted to talk to him tonight...

And... and I wish he didn't run from me every time he had a problem or didn't want to talk about it.

I don't know what to honestly say or think. It just seems like sometimes... The little things are the ones that hurt me.




~Arie J.~

 on Sat Jun 12, 2010 10:57 pm by Eternity (Online)

"Bittersweet" by Fuel

I've got a lot to write down, and I'm finally at a point where I can. I've got a lot to vent, and things that need to be vented from my system; washed from my memory. I'm finally able to talk about it and write it down in its purest form.

Let's start out with December of 2009. I was excited, the time was coming for my boyfriend to come visit. He was going to come stay a whole two weeks with me, and my grandmother was excited to have him with us. Everyone was looking forward to meeting him, unlike his first visit which was sudden and reacted to with negativity. He came down and enjoyed his stay with me. For two weeks, we slept together and enjoyed the ability to get along, laugh, go out and have fun, as well as explore each other sexually as well. We had the makings of a great couple. It had been since May of 2009 that we had been together; so I felt that the progress was great. Especially for someone like me who usually can't keep a man more than two months, if even that long. This was it, I knew then. He wanted me, and I wanted him.

Before vacation was over, in the attempts of keeping me in Virginia instead of moving up to New Hampshire after graduation, my grandfather asked Rick if he would care to move in with us.

The tragedy had already begun...

A month passed after the sorrowful parting of me and my boyfriend, and I had to wish him goodbye at the airport. It was a hard goodbye, but blinded by love that was thus far flawless, I was happy to see him coming back. I knew it wouldn't be long, it wouldn't be long until I would never have to be alone again.

That was the greatest aspect, might I also add. Lonesome obliterated, filled by love. Though it was not wholesome love, and it ate at me like acid, it kept me warm and safe. It made sure no one other than itself hurt me...

A month passed, anxiety ripping through me I was jolted by this opportunity. I'd get to sleep with a man, possibly lose my virginity to a good loving man, and see where the future took me.

He moved in. February, can't remember the exact date but it was very early on. Very beginning of the month. He had his stuff all packed. Nothing really washed, but I was glad to do his laundry and fold his clothes; set him up for a good life with me. My room was clean for him, and our bed made, and drawers empty for him. His stuff arrived, and I put it away and helped him settle. There was much hugging, kissing, and happiness. It was great. I had my loving boyfriend with me, and it was a done deal, I just knew it.

Let's skip to a month later.

I'm crying. Crying because of the fighting. I don't like arguing; my mother and step-father would scream at each other til their lungs were raw, I never wanted to be that way. I was just barely hinting at self-loathing deep down inside, but I was hiding it. It was so early on that that tiny feeling was impossible to really determine from the rest of the turmoil of emotions. The fights are simple, clean cut and short. Don't throw your trash on the floor, I say. Something is responded, I'm wrong; then suddenly I'm right with sarcasm riddled through his voice. One arrow to the chest. Don't sit and play games all day and night, I say. Something is responded, I'm stupid and controlling. I'm clingy and he needs space and he loves video games. Loves them, and his computer. Tax return comes and I say, "try to save it, it might be a while before you find a job in this economy". It is all spent on the collective of a new computer over a thousand dollars in cost, and video games as well as snack foods and soda since he refused to drink water. I shouldn't tell him how to spend his money, is the response I gain. Suddenly, he's broke. He needs money. Grandma chucks out money, though he's supposed to be paying her the difference in electricity and water; and he can't. He needs gas money to look for jobs and pick me up from school. Two weeks later, he needs more gas money, oh gas money gas money needs soda and candy. I made a little money, and I gave him a chunk of it for gas and it was spent half and half; half on gas half of soda and candy.

He began to gain weight, but why not? He was not help around the house by many measures, not helping me clean up beyond folding the comforter back on the bed and occasionally picking up trash and candy wrappers as well as 2 liter soda bottles off the floor. And I was slowly growing furious.

My sexual frustration was raging. We'd only done probably two things, on both accounts I had not been the receiving party, and on both accounts, I had to hold back tears. Now, two months had passed. Every night I laid in bed with the man I wanted to spend my life with, devote my heart, soul, and body too. And he turned his back to me and slept like a child, while I clung to my pillow and tissues and tried to cry as quietly as possible as to not disturb him from his sleeping and create another fuss about why I'm so miserable.

He didn't want to finish college. He'd lost his grant because he'd not done as well as he had liked to. He'd changed his major in the first few months, and even then, things were rough. He had dropped out when he moved in with me. He wasn't planning on going back. In early April or late March, he knew he'd have a job with Walgreens, be it short and sweet, he didn't care that it was part-time making minimum wage by the skin of his teeth. Then it was, "Arie, when will you get a job? You should try Peroni's, you should try this, that!" Job. Job. Job. Job.

I wanted to graduate, and the only reason I wanted a job was because I knew it was so unfair that my grandparents- who live in poverty- where housing an extra person that I had brought down who was not aiding them in rent or groceries. We were doing horribly, and upon one day of hearing grandpa say something about not being able to pay the bills by fifty bucks, I found an odds and ends job within fifteen minutes and worked my ass off for six or seven hours for fifty bucks, which I stuck straight into their hands upon arriving home.

The nights were longer than ever. New emotions stormed through my gates like a wicked ocean hurricane. Anger; I couldn't control my boyfriend, make him stop cursing as much and be calmer, and more loving and appreciative and mature. Sorrow; I couldn't be the calm, happy, laughing person I am. I couldn't relax in this time, I had to be strict or I would be road kill. And lust. I couldn't have the man I slept with. I couldn't have sex with him, because he couldn't have sex with me. I begged him. Begged him so much. I'd do anything, I degraded myself for his sexual pleasure; which even then it was not enough. My body was eroding on the inside, my massive and boiling passions now nothing more than a flicker of hot coal in a rain storm. I got so desperate that I would try to take him myself. Do anything, I would. I'd get him hard, and he would just get distracted or tell me to stop; he was never in the mood. I would've been his personal slave if he had just given me some attention. But without it, being myself and being fractured from past abuse, I began to wither.

How ugly I must be that my own boyfriend does not want me. That he stares at my naked body that he once loved and now he feels nothing. How hideous I must be, how fat and unattractive. I began to eat more and more, filling that hole, gaining weight, making it worse. "You're chubby, you should start working out. You can lose weight y'know..." I couldn't help it. I had to do something! Food loved me when he wouldn't. I could sit in the kitchen and cry and put small pieces of chocolate or fruit on my tongue and just drown away the taste of saltwater tears that had rolled over my lips and crossed my taste-buds. It got to a point, that finally, I stopped trying. He apparently didn't want to have sex with me, or enjoy some foreplay, or even make out. I must be so ugly. So hideous, and repulsive. Repulsive stuck in my mind one night, and that was the night my passion within that relationship completely... died.

Another month passed, he started working. Now he had an excuse as to why things weren't clean around the house. Now he had a place to go, and I had no right to complain about my life. I complained too much as it was anyways. He had also started going over to his friend Thomas' house very often as well.

My grades were slipping. My sleep was not filling. My body and mind felt heavy like I was filled with lead. My eyes were red, and dry. I had stopped crying every night. Now I just... barely survived. Slid by pretending to be somewhat happy, though I was only covering the black hole that was devouring me inside. It was hard to move. Getting out of bed was dreadful, and I woke up with the same shitty attitude I went to bed with. I grew hateful, and rude. Cursing too much and saying hurtful things. It came to a point where I couldn't just sit back, I had to fight. And the fight in me grew stronger. I would scream at him, threaten him, hoped he rot in hell. Fuck off, he'd say. Suck my dick, he'd retort. "I tried" I responded once, and he liked to have exploded. I was feeling him coming to hit me, I expected it. I had wanted to hit him before. It got that bad once or twice...

May. I'm dead. I tag along to his friend's house during a school week, and spend three or four days. I don't want to stay up all night only to go study for exams in the morning. I didn't want to have to do that, I wanted to enjoy weekends with my friends. One day, it just happened. It took an outside source from a man to tell me I was being mistreated and I could do better.

I went on the back porch of my friend's house, and my friends left. Rick stormed out and yelled at me about how he didn't know where I had gone. I was crying and upset, and finally told him it was our relationship. Of course, I got the same old thing.

"I'll be up shit's creek without a paddle if you break up with me and I have no way of getting home y'know."

We fought. Loud and hard, vicious in the neighborhood where I feared people were watching me cry, watching me defend myself weakly. What they must've thought of me, I wondered. Those people watching me so feebly trying to defend myself. I wondered if they pitied me, if they watched. He told me that he couldn't have sex because I was so miserable and he couldn't get off to that. I think... I think that's a bullet wound that will leave a very rich and obvious scar for a while. I felt those words lodge in my throat, and I didn't know what to do or say. I only walked away, and cried. Cried and cried and cried, staying there at my friends house.

Finally he came back inside, I was done crying then.

"What now?" He said quietly. I had done it.

"It's over."

He didn't come home with me that night. That night I slept alone, and I cried for hours, til my eyes were so dry and aching that I couldn't sleep. I remained in a half-conscious despair. There went the man who had said we were to be married. There, I had done it...

It felt good and bad at once. Lifted weight from my chest, yet the heat of a close significant other was gone. I was so cold those next few days, then weeks, and even now. Without arms around me, I think I'll always be cold. Chilled by the slightest of cool air. Cold when I lay my head down and curl up in the blankets...

He begged me to come back, and I have rejected him since. I have yet to buy the laptop off of him, since I need something to stay connected to the internet, but I'm going to make a down payment. Over a month has passed now since we broke up. It took me a month of being nauseous and filled with lonesome before I recovered. Though I rebound quickly. I was single, and happy, and 18. Life was looking up. Though of course, I almost failed the 12 grade and was almost forbidden from walking because of how I had slid back on grades. No one understood, no one cut me slack. That last four days of school I worked til I cried, til I fell asleep in class and bore red eyes and bedhead where I went. I went to school from 6:45 a.m. til 8 at night. I made it too, it's done now...

I'm at Myrtle Beach, away from home and away from it all. Things are looking up. I've found someone new who makes me happy, a complete opposite of what I had. I pray this one is right, that he is better for me and that he can do me better than my previous endeavors. I believe he can. I believe it so strongly. It's amazing though, how after all that pain and hurt and sorrow, how I can put my faith into someone again. I did realize one thing from it all. I'm the strongest person I know. Because would this have happened when I was younger, or more immature, I would've died. I would've rotted, or come to suicidal thoughts, or something. I had threatened of that latter idea to my ex once, and he scoffed. I wanted to.

It was an easy way out then, cheating out of the game.

But now I'm done. Free. The times are gone, and they were bittersweet. Rich with love and strong emotions I had for him, and bitter with how one-sided that relationship had become and how neglected I was of what I both needed, wanted, and deserved...

Pray for me, that things get better. If I had another encounter with a man who did me as that one did... I think I wouldn't be so well in recovery, and my faith would be halted.

For now, I only seek joy and happiness, laughter and trust in another. And most of all... I seek warm arms to hold me, to ward off the cold that has been left to scar my entirety.


-Arie