The Blue of my Oblivion
letters to the room full of mirrors
it's 4 and i'm still in my plaid pajama pants and a
sweater, the same thing i've been wearing for about two
days. i'm functioning today on a grand total of about 2
hours of sleep, probably my motive for staying wrapped up
on the couch in my comforter, eating like i was going to
get a tropht for it. i'm home alone today, scary thought. i
know where the matches are too.
it's s..s..so cold outside, and it's not even winter
yet ::childlike pouty face:: the sky is blue, however, and
the trees still have leaves, so i'm just cold because i'm
crazy, i guess.
i guess it's about time i explain myself. i've had previous
entries soooort of explaining who i am, but not as thorough
as what i'm about to type. lesse. i'm currently a resident
in good ole louisiana, and no i am not a southern hick. i
rarely see gators or swamp, i don't have a thick-hick
accent, i don't suck crawfish heads, and i don't
have a fierce appetite for gumbo. i am a strict new york
city gal, though i haven't made it there yet. i'm the girl
stuck in the bayou, waiting and praying for a chance to
head out to the big city.
my boyfriend has a southern accent, it's the cutest thing
ever. he calls me his country woman, though i sit and write
stories/poems/whatever while he and his friends play
football. the boy loves his sports, he's the star of our
soccer team (yes, i'm on the team too, on being the key
word. *cough*i'm horrible*cough*) and refuses to miss an
lsu game. i watched one with him at his house last weekend,
it was fun i guess. there we were, on his big [horribly
uncomfortable] couch, me and my big all-american boyfriend
with his football in one arm and his girl in the other.
to put it bluntly, i'm short. yes, barely over 5 feet,
taking after my mom. my dad, whose 6'3 gave me only blue
eyes and a hunger for music, the rest i got from my mom. i
got her shortness, powdered sugar pale skin, short 'n'
stubby fingers (and a bad habbit for biting finger nails)
and a bad case of complain-itus. we bond so much because we
complain about the same things, we've got all the same
mental problemos, etc, 'cept she's on meds and i'm not.
so i'm short, white, and a mental case. what else? i have
liquid blue eyes that change color with my hair (now a
fiery red). they penetrate from their almond-shaped basins,
surrounded by fanned lashes. my cheeks and nose are dotted
with freckles (err) and my lips are full and pink. my teeth
are straight, thanks to braces, though i rarely
show them off.
i'm reasonably little around the middle, and this is how it
all went down. when i was little, i was angry at people,
anyone i saw, because i thought everyone was prettier than
i was. being a 4 year old and obsessed with phsyical
appearance wasn't healthy for me, but i stuck with it. i
was mad at my mom for making me short, and i was mad at the
rest of my family for making me fat. i was born a victim of
my generation, the one i now refer to as "the culture of
cruelty". the kids i grew up with always seemed to find
something to make fun of. sometimes it was my hair,
straight and chocolatey brown, or my teeth, horribly
crooked, anything. i decided if they weren't going to
accept me for being a good person, i'd make them go home
and cry at night because they couldn't be as good as me. i
was trained and put in classes to paint, draw, sing, act,
dance, anything that could keep me out of class and away
from my piers. i lost myself in a world of rennaisance,
hoping to never be dragged back into reality. i played in
the band, the orchestra, got into talented art programs,
sang in choirs, joined drama club, starred in anything and
everything i could. this only made the kids more angry with
me. they'd taunt and tease me, call me names and throw
stuff at me. i found myself at home, not wanting to make
friends so i'd study and do homework which gave me awesome
grades...which only made the kids even angrier.
after a while i felt a hole in my head, in my heart, that
was growing every day. i decided to try to fill it with
food. the madder i got, the more food i ate, going through
boxes a day and rolls a week. i didn't notice that it was
effecting my weight or look, i was just pissed at everyone
for making me do it. one day i joined a group of girls on
the playground, kristin and her blonde friends. they were
laughing about something, who knows what, when they noticed
me. i tried so hard to fit in with them, with their group,
and it hurt so much when they made fun of me and ditched
me. they worked together at making me unhappy.
at this point, i was so unhappy that i stopped eating all
together. i'd skip meals and throw up after the ones i did
have. i couldn't stand being the way i was. i look back at
old pictures, my stomache sticking out. i hated myself.
my parents never noticed much, their focus was on my
brother. he was so depressed and had this constant cloud
over his head, that it took up all their energy so when i'd
try to curl up next to them and talk about my day, they
couldn't listen to me. i gave up on talking to anyone, and
decided to take it out on myself.
i got to middle school, a fresh start. i was skinny, had
long shiny hair (freshly highlighted), a huge grin all the
time, i made so many friends and i was finally happy. i met
chris and it was like nothing even mattered anymore. i got
distracted by the new social life which made my grades
thunk into the ground. i wasn't used to people waving to me
in the halls or saying hi, i wasn't used to attention from
actual people...and i loved it.
later on through the junior high experiences, i got sad
again. i was so sad, that i cut myself and cried all the
time. i was horrible to the people around me, driving them
all away. this only made me start to eat again, and instead
of doing homework, i'd lay in bed and watch reruns. at one
point i got my boyfriend back, making me semi-happy again,
but i wasn't reeeeeeally happy. so, that screwed up half of
my life and caused me to make some pretty stupid decisions.
after that, i tried taking my own life, ridding myself of
my misery. things were falling apart at school, at home.
after that, things were fine, i was falling apart.
over the summer, i found myself. i took a trip to a place
where nobody knew me, they couldn't judge me, and they
actually liked me because i was different. i was a stranger
from an exotic land. yay. i came back so happy, so happy. i
fell in love all over again, and it was so sweet, so sweet.
here i am, still eating, still outrageously obsessed with
my weight. but i don't care much what people think anymore.
i'm happy with me, with my fire engine hair, my pale skin,
my short legs and nails. i'm not sohappy with my frail,
scarred arms but i'll live. i have my friends who i love
soo soo much, and my country man/all american boyfriend,
who leaves my heart feeling hot chocolate warm.
i get stressed out so easily, i go haywire when something
doesnt go right. i get overwhelmed when someone asks me to
do something, instead of just doing it. so i wait for a
week and someone asks me to do something else, ooooo and i
haven't done the first thing! ahh i'm a horrible person! i
should die! SLAM goes the door and i'm in my bed crying.
i wanted something to be wrong with me, i wanted to be sick
and have some disorder. i wanted medicine, i wanted a
doctor. my parents said it was just one of those "growing
up" ordeals. i said it was shitty parents. they said i was
just a teenage girl. i said i hoped they'd burn in hell.
they told me there was nothing wrong with me and i was
making too much of a big deal out of nothing. i carved foul
obscenities in my arms. they still didn't get it. i starved
myself, and they said it was nothing. that was something.
that was annorexia. i stabbed open my arms and bled on my
sheets, and i was making a big deal out of nothing? i was
making a big deal because i was depressed. now i can't pay
attention in school and i have the mind of a 9 year old
child, and they say i have add. add, that was it? that's
what i was soo friggin pissed off and unhappy? because i
couldn't control myself. my emotions. because i spent my
time on hair or looking skinny that i let myself go deeper
and deeper into the ground.
"i dont think anyone understands what it's like to really
care about someone, and wonder if they'll show up the next
day" - ex boyfriend, about me
i use that quote as motive nowadays. i think about my
boyfriend, my country man, who will never have to worry
about me. i think about my parents, who has no idea
that i've ever touched a blade to my arm or shoved a finger
down my throat. i think about my friends, who try their
hardest to look out for me. and i want to make them all soo
soo proud of me, and most of all, i want to be proud of
"it goes around in circles, one day is lovely, the next is
brutal" i've had too many brutal days. i'm ready for a
i just want someone to hear me. i'm tired of writing
letters to a room full of mirrors. screaming and hearing
silence in return.
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