Funny Girl


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I’ve always been the funny girl. I always wanted to be the pretty girl. Or better yet, the pretty girl who was funny. 

This by no means is me saying I don’t think I’m pretty or that I think I’m ugly. This is me saying I do lack a certain kind of confidence. Overall, I am very confident with myself. I’m funny, smart, and I’d like to think attractive. However I still tend to compare. 

Growing up I always wanted to model. I currently still do. I was always told I “wasn’t tall enough” or I “weighed too much” or anything along those lines. Anything to tear my hopes and my dreams apart. Relationships with men always brought a lack of compliments and reassurance which led to a lack of confidence. My friends are all extremely beautiful and have no issue finding suitors. Then there’s me. I have deemed myself the DUFF of my group….minus the fat part. DUFF stands for designated ugly fat friend. 

While I’m not ugly, a lot of the times I feel I can’t compete. I know life isn’t about competing in that way, but as a female, an emotionally abused one at that, sometimes it’s impossible to not. I’m recognized for my humor. Never complimented on outfits or hair or just my look in general. Now, making people laugh is so important to me. But compliments are nice. They build you up, give you a boost. I have lacked that kind of boost my whole life. 

Unfortunately for me, when compliments do come about my appearance from males, they’re not so nice. Mostly based on my assets alone. Mostly vulgar. Mostly tears me down. What about my smile? Or my eyes? 

This post seems very shallow. Maybe this post is shallow. Yet I can’t help but feel this way at times. I have my days though where my confidence is through the roof. As of late it’s really lacking. I want to feel beautiful. I know that feeling comes from within and not from temporary compliments though. It’s something you have to seek within yourself. I also have to remind myself that outer beauty isn’t as important as inner beauty, which I am not lacking in. 

All I’m saying is, throughout my life, I have been torn down, torn apart, and damaged. I’ve had to build my confidence almost solely on compliments I pay myself. 

I am the funny friend. Not the hot friend. Or the pretty friend. Or the smart friend. I am the funny friend. Maybe that’s okay. Because laughter brings joy and there’s nothing more beautiful than joy. 

Tonight I taped a card above my vanity mirror that says “you are beautiful.” Just a simple reminder that with or without makeup, I am beautiful. I need to try to remind myself that it doesn’t matter what someone else looks like, because I am uniquely made. Someone out there will think I’m the most stunning woman they’ve ever seen. 

Looks are so….unimportant in the long run. Yet confidence is so important. It takes so much time to build and a lot of energy to maintain. Society has made us into beings that care so much what others think of our outward appearance. I am so beyond guilty of caring what someone thinks about my appearance. But why? What a stranger thinks should not matter. I’ll probably ever see them again. But compliments feel good and sometimes they can change our whole day. 

Here’s what I hope for. I hope to find someone who loves me first for my personality and second for my looks. I think that’s something we all hope for. 

Regardless though of what society says, we are all beautiful. Because we are all alive. We are all human. And we are capable of creating such beauty, even other humans. 

So, my confidence is a work in progress. I guess from here on out I’m going to try to wake up each morning and tell myself that I AM beautiful. The most important compliments are the ones you pay yourself. 


These Days


These day I….

Feel unworthy of love. 







A whole jumble of feelings I don’t want to feel. My minds always racing, thoughts crashing into one another, creating a huge mess. 

I’m at a point where I don’t know where I am anymore. I don’t know, I just simply don’t. I know what I’m looking for and what I want to accomplish, it just feels at times like I’m never going to get there or I’m never going to find the right person. I try and try and I fight and fight. Yet every time I get nowhere. I get crushed. I suppose that’s okay though. It all will lead me to where I need to be. 

I guess I’m feeling like this lately because I have friends getting married and buying houses and having children. And here I am, unable to even keep a relationship. It saddens me. While I’m happy for those around me, I’m sad for myself. Is that pathetic? Sometimes I think it might be. 

I’m not trying to rush anything, though. I’ll never jump into something that isn’t right just for the sake of having something. I’d rather have nothing and no one than something toxic or doesn’t fit well. I have expectations I need to have met. I deserve something good. 

My last relationship was one I thought was good, but I wonder sometimes if it was even real. My end was very real, but was his? I’ll never know, and maybe that’s okay. I don’t need to know, because I’ve learned from it, grown from it, and it has put me where I need to be. 

I hope one day I find a love that is pure and true. I hope I find the right job. I hope I finish college. I hope I am happy and successful. I will do everything in my power to make these things happen, but I know that I’ll end up where I’m supposed to be. Fate is a very real thing to me. 

For now I’m praying for the best. I just need to make it out of this rut and on to happier times. I will and I can, but right now it’s a lonely road. 

I Should’ve


I should’ve known better. 

I should’ve known that you were a recipe for disaster when all those bright red flags popped up. 

Yet I ignored every single one of them. Avoiding them like potholes in a road. 

They shouted at me, and I plugged my ears. 

The red was so bright I closed my eyes. 

I should’ve know better. 

I should’ve known that when your “I love you” dripped from your lips like sweet honey, that it was only to catch me, much like a fly, and lure me in. 

You didn’t love me. 

You loved my body. You loved the idea of loving me. You loved being infatuated. You loved feeling yourself inside of me. 

I should’ve known. 

I should’ve known that when you got what you wanted, you’d begin to get bored. 

The not so nice side of you began to show. Your harsh words and unwillingness to listen or understand came at me like bullets at close range. 

One night you tried to sleep with me and I said no, and explained that I wasn’t just a body. The next morning you tried again. I said “don’t you remember what we talked about?” You told me I was sleep deprived. I should’ve known then. 

I felt dead when I was with you. Yet I clung to those moments of pure bliss. Like when you called me beautiful. Or held my door for me. Or laughed at my joke. 

I should’ve known. 

I had every warning sign. Yet I ignored them all. 

I hope that the next doesn’t fall for your trickery. Your charm and your sly words. Your fast pace, your perfect smile. 

A handsome face doesn’t make a handsome heart, and I should’ve known. 

Late night thoughts 

I hate making decisions. 

Especially ones that affect not only me, but those around me. 

Why can’t life be simple? Why can’t life be easy…? 

Every action has a consequence. Whatever that action may be, something results because of it. Whether that be negative or positive, sometimes it’s hard to say. 

Right now I’m in a position of decision making. And frankly, I don’t like it. I don’t like making choices that will drastically affect another persons life. 

I wish God could give me a sign. A big ole sign that just slaps me in the face, it’s so obvious. I know things don’t always work that way, though. 

I know there’s a plan for me however. So no matter what I choose, it’s all part of a grander plan. Doesn’t make making the decision any easier though. 

Hopefully some sleep and a touch of time will help me sort this out. 

Sorry also, for not posting recently. Working 6 days a week takes a lot of time and energy out of a person. 

I wish I just knew what the right choices in life were with 100% certainty. 




I think we all wonder what death feels like.

Is it a black, empty space? Or is it anything at all? Do we just cease to exist?

Yet I feel like I know what death feels like.

Death feels like emptiness. Darkness. Cold.

My heart is dead. No longer beating in the fashion that it once did. Skipping beats or not beating at all. Feeling has fled the scene of the crime, leaving me with a cold, hollow body.

Death is not beautiful, or peaceful.

Death is cold, lonely, painful.

Death is feeling yourself slowly dying inside knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop the decay.

So you wither away into something that you can’t even recognize. Someone you never thought you would be.

After death there is nothing. It seems too difficult to resuscitate, so you let your heart slow, and eventually stop. You fade away into a dark nothingness, never able to return to the light, because it’s nowhere to be found.



I always thought that maybe I was the poison.

Maybe the negative thoughts in my head seeped out through my fingertips and absorbed into every body that I ever lovingly touched.

I became the very thing that I was afraid of.

I had been so afraid of toxicity seeping into my bones that I was unaware to the fact that I was the substance I was most terrified of.

Every word, every touch, cancer to anyone around me.

An exhausting struggle ensued for anyone unfortunate enough to be within my grasp.

The snake in Eden, that was me. Convincing you to take my forbidden fruit.

One bite of the apple and you realized the mistake that you had made. And so you had to pay for your sin.

But no one ever told you to not take the forbidden fruit. No one ever told you there were rules. No one ever warned you of me, yet you faced your punishment.

One bite, and you were poisoned.

My poison now pumped through your veins as if it was your very own blood. Destroying every shred of sanity that was left to be found in your body.

Yet because I myself was the complete form of toxicity, I didn’t even realize I was poisoning you, until it was much too late.

My touch burned you, but my words were so inviting you couldn’t tear away, until you yourself became the exact thing that you too feared. Our poisons intertwined to create something so disastrous that neither one of us could escape the pain that the other brought.

My apple of Eden destroyed you. And so we destroyed each other.



I can’t imagine what it must feel like to love or live with someone who suffers from mental illness, especially when they themselves don’t suffer.

From my point of view, as a sufferer, it’s already difficult enough. The day to day things can become extremely trying. I hear the things I say and see the things I do and I question everything about who I am. Right now is especially hard. I have touched on the fact that my medication isn’t working properly in a previous post. So right now I am overthinking, anxious and constantly having mood swings. It’s hard enough on me, so what about the people around me?

It’s one of those things where I understand why people leave. Why they don’t want to stay. Why it becomes all too overwhelming. All too much. Yet I also have to remind myself that if someone loves you, they’ll stick by your side. Love isn’t just about the ups. Love includes the downs. I am very much so on a downswing.

Recognizing a down swing is important. However, just because I recognize this does not mean that I can control or fix every aspect of what I am going through. Recognizing this allows me to help myself find coping mechanisms. Allows me to ease the pain a bit.

So when a person you’re dating doesn’t have a mental illness, how do they cope? How do they find relief when you’re being all too difficult? How do they deal with the fact that you’re on an emotional roller coaster and you’re dragging them along for the ride?

Mental illness is a huge amount of baggage to take on. To carry, even. It brings on a lot of stress, worry, and doubt. It’s hard to see those that you love walk away because they couldn’t cope with your baggage. The loss of someone because of your mental  illness is one of the most painful losses. Mental illness is something that will be with me for the rest of my life, and to see someone walk away because of something I have little control over is extremely tolling. I can take meds, I can go to therapy. These things all help, and they help a great deal, but the illness doesn’t just go away. With time new ways to manage it are learned, and it does get better, but it will always remain. Bad days will happen. Breakdowns will still occur.

One thing that I think is important is the education of mental illness. Educating the person you’re with can help a great deal. I have come to realize that even after some educating a lot of people still don’t understand it. That’s okay, but putting in the effort to learn is something I find very important. That’s why I appreciate every single person that takes the time to read this blog. I’m hoping to give a little insight as to how mental illness works and affects us on a day to day basis. And maybe, just maybe I can help someone along the way. I want whoever I am with, whoever I marry, to read these things. Or at least do a little research. Learn why I am this way. Learn about the chemical imbalances. Learn how to help. For me, personally, helping me is as simple as just being there listening. Telling me it’s going to be okay. Helping me is caring enough to learn about why my mind works the way it does. Learning my triggers. Listening instead of just hearing what I have to say. I know that it seems like a lot to ask for of someone. I know that someone out there is willing to do those things. To put in that sort of effort.

Overall, I am not a difficult person to love. I am very understanding, patient. I am caring and loving. Kind and sweet. Overall a very happy person. Except in times like these. Times where my mood balancer is no longer working for me. It’s a devastating time for me. It’s devastating because my meds aren’t working and I haven’t felt these mood swings in over a year. Devastating because I see it pushing people away. Devastating because there isn’t much I can do but wait until my appointment to alter my medications. Knowing what normal felt like makes this all the more painful. I am more aware than ever of the things I am doing and saying that aren’t normal, or acceptable. I am more than aware of my negative feelings. Some of them are easier to curb because they are gradual and I can prepare myself. Some of them I don’t realize are happening until after the fact. This is what makes it so hard.

I just want my normal, healthy self back. I want my relationship to be successful, but only if he’s willing to stick by my side, good times or bad. I want to be happy again. Granted, I am not sitting here depressed all day every day. More so it’s a rise in the frequency of my anxiety bouts and attacks. For me, there is a distinct difference between anxiety attacks and panic attacks. Anxiety attacks for me feel like a thousand bricks on my chest, slowed breathing and extreme feelings of nausea. Panic attacks for me is hyperventilating for a few minutes and feeling like I might pass out.  Last night I had several anxiety attacks. I couldn’t sleep. I thought I was going to throw up all night. My relationship is in limbo. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do. It is no longer in my hands. I explained myself and my feelings, so all I can do is wait. I have been a person that always has felt like waiting isn’t fair. Mostly because my anxiety will be heightened until I know for certain what is going to happen.

I hate every waking second of this. As crappy is this is to say, sleep is my relief, my comfort right now. It is the only time that my mind is not racing with a million thoughts. The only time my nausea dissipates. I know that things will be okay in the long run, but for the time being I am trapped in my own personal hell. July 11th is my next opportunity to escape this hell. That is the day I go in for a reevaluation of my medication. I cannot wait for that day to come. It can’t come soon enough.

I only ask that people bare with me for the time being. The weeks will be short and I will be better. I know that these feelings and this behavior isn’t permanent. The convincing others that that is true is the hard part.

I try to tell myself that what’s meant to happen will happen. Those that stick by my side in this difficult time are the people I know truly care, and are the people I truly want by my side above anyone else.

So to those that stick with me, support me and show patience, know that it means the world to me, and I love you all.



I had never been so hungry in my life.

Although I was eating well, your presence left me starving.

The absence of human decency left me vacant, looking for something more yet never finding it.

You thought I was well fed, based solely on the fact that you were force feeding me. Your spoon full of lies, and deception, jammed down my throat. The metal scraping the back and leaving it sore.

Yet when I looked in the mirror I saw skin and bones. A skeleton, frail and withering away.

I needed nutrients, and you were sucking me dry.

Not only were you force feeding me, you were draining me. Each time the spoon was removed, it brought something back with it. My soul, my heart, came back up bit by bit. As if I was willingly regurgitating it for your taking.

Emotionally anorexic. Allowing myself to be starved of feeling. And for whatever reason, I allowed it. I found company in the pain of your extractions and excavations.

They told me I would die if I continued to starve. My wake-up call. I realized I was hungry. So fucking hungry.

The next time you tried to jam your spoon down my throat I sealed my lips in protest. Silent, but resistant. You didn’t like that too much. You became so angry with my silent protests that you left me.

You left me, but your leaving allowed me to start filling up again. My hunger for feeling slowly dissipated as I found myself and the pieces you stole from me. I began to feel full. I began to regain health.

So you tried to come back. I saw your spoon in hand and so I refused to let you in. You tried so hard, you pretended the spoon was an airplane and my mouth the landing strip. I wouldn’t allow it.

I didn’t want to be hungry again.

I began to imagine how empty you must feel, if you came back to take from me what I had gained. Yet I did not feel sorry for you. Your spoon, the airplane, on a crash course and I was the field it wanted to land in. There’s no room in this land for you, though.

I am so full that there is no space for you. No crevice, no crack, no gap.

So I pretend that you died. You are buried deep beneath the soil where I can no longer find you, and I am so full. I am no longer hungry.


A Months Time


A month. 

It’s already been a month. 

One month ago, and a few days, I had a massive mental breakdown. My whole world came collapsing in on me and I wanted to die. Thoughts of ending my life had never been so prominent. Never been so loud. Yet here I am, alive, and (mostly) well. Somehow I was able to drown out the screams of suicide. Somehow I was able to begin recovery. 

While my breakdown was inevitable, it’s been a hard road since. In the last few weeks I’ve also learned and realized that my medication is no longer working for me. So on top of recovering, I am now coping with feelings that I haven’t felt in a year. Extreme anger. Severe anxiety. Doubt. I’m scared of every decision I make. I overthink everything. Things that I didn’t really feel when my medicine was working properly. Realizing this has brought me other feelings as well. I’m scared of the feelings I have. Because I don’t like the hayli I am when I’m not medicated. When I’m not regulated. I hurt people. Especially myself. I tend to drive people away with my constant mood swings and questioning. So trying to reel that part of me in is proving difficult and at times impossible. 

One month ago I was in a hospital bed. Facing the recommendation of being put in a crisis clinic. (I didn’t go.) 

One month ago I felt weak. 

One month ago I hated everyone and everything but mostly myself. 

One month ago my mental walls collapsed and allowed me to feel feelings I had been storing away for five years. Feelings of abandonment. 

I’m stronger than I was a month ago. I have a new struggle placed before me with my failing medication. But I am strong. 

I am strong because I am alive. 

I reached out for help. 

You know what else? I already have an appointment to fix this issue with my meds. And that is something I’m proud of. 

One year ago I don’t think I would’ve done that. I would’ve given up. 

I have a hard battle ahead of me. I have demons I have to face every day. These days are dark and they are hard. Yet I somehow find a tiny beam of light to show me the way. While the battle may be long and difficult, I know that once I come out, I will be victorious. The taste of victory will never have been so sweet. I will have wisdom and strength that I never knew I could have. 

I’ve never been a glass half empty kind of girl. It’s always been half full. If you really look at it though, the glass is always full. One half is air. The other water. Just because you can’t see one half, doesn’t mean it’s not there. 

Today I cut my hair. Tonight I regret it. I think I sought a change. Something I could control, since right now there’s not much I have control over. Yet I feel as though I just let go of something I loved. I know, it sounds silly. It’s hair. It grows back. Yet I still feel that way. Know what’s sillier? I feel less loved. Less beautiful. I know this is the downswing of my meds talking. I know this is regret of a spur of the moment decision talking. I know I will come to love it once I get use to it. 

This last month so much has happened. I lived. I grew. I made changes. I have more yet to come, and I will be stronger because of it. 



I feel like water. 

You needed me to survive, but once you got too much of me you drown. 

You inhaled me too deeply, and so I filled your lungs and weighed you down. 

I feel like water. 

Beautiful on the surface, but what lay underneath is dark, cold, and mysterious. 

You wanted to swim to the bottom to see what it held, but once you reached my ocean floor the weight was too much for you to bare. 

I crushed you. 

I feel like water. 

I’m inviting, yet no one stays too long. 

I become too cold, it becomes too dark. Everyone must return home at some point, right? 

I am water. 

While I can be destructive, and terrifying, I have the potential to be beautiful and calming. 

My waves soothing the soul of a lost wanderer. 

What lay beneath the surface is depth and wonder. 

I feel like water.