Friday, February 9, 2007

   gonna go watch the simpsons
this is something cheezy i wrote for a scholarship, then decided it makes me look too much like a psycho. but it's a barely decent piece of writing, and i would hate for it to be forever lost.

it's such a shame there's an 800 word limit for this, because the essay i COULD have written, in 1500 words, was BEAUTIFUL. the essay i did write is okay, but seems too short compared to how it began

"I felt like someone had cut off my air, like I was sinking under the ocean, with darkness and intense pressure everywhere. I forced myself to ignore that feeling, became more depressed. I did not know what to do; I did not trust my father, and I fought too much with my mother to trust her, either. My friends were too immature to understand what I was feeling. As I felt the pressure more and more, I grew frantic, and found solace in something terrible: cutting.

At first, I would only cut to bleed, to release tension. Then, the cuts became deeper, and more violent. I wanted my body to hurt, so that I would deserve the pain I felt inside. After all, what right did I, a privileged American with no real strife, have to feel so bad? My skin became more and more scarred, and, when people I loved seemed to notice but not care, I spiraled. Many troubled people cut themselves, but it felt like nobody understood, still. When the only person I cared about stopped caring about me, life lost its meaning.

I had dreamt of getting better, falling in love, helping people, and having children, but when I felt utterly alone, I became suicidal. Because of my fears of eternal damnation and, as I see it now, will to live, my attempts were weak, and fell through for one reason or another at the last minute. I did not try to kill myself every day, but I lived with the self-loathing because of the thought, and the guilt from giving up every day.


The bad thoughts consumed me, and I lived with them for over a year. Finally, one night, I hit rock bottom, and went to my mother, begging her to save me. I felt so weak, and powerless, and dirty. She took me to the doctor, who suggested I begin to see a psychologist.

When I did, I found that talking eased the pressure I felt. My psychologist explained to me the thought behind the cutting: that I needed to deserve the depression. He said that I did not deserve it; it just happens to some people. After eight months of therapy, I stopped cutting, lost the suicidal thoughts, and began to believe in myself, even just a little bit. I got hope.

Hope is very important to me now. I understand that nothing is going to be the way I want it to be, but life is what you make it. My lowest points in life are due to my own weaknesses, though the depression was not my fault. Looking back on the whole experience, I am truly ashamed that I gave up, and resorted to such destructive means of coping. I learned from it, though. Never again will I give up. If I get depressed again, I will find someone to talk to. I will write bad poetry. I will cry, something I neglected to do in the past. Anything positive to keep me going, to keep me as strong as I am now, I will do.


There is always something worth living for, and even if it seems far away, it is still within grasp. When the weight of the ocean is pressing all around, there is someone willing to talk, to take some of that weight away. When they do no believe me, when they say that I “don’t know what I’m talking about,” and that they are all alone, I show them my scars. I have a lot of scars. Many of them have faded, but some never will. Nevertheless, the reality is there: sometimes, it is just that bad , but I am living, smiling proof that things do get better. "


no lyrics today.

Newspaper's coming along well. kind of. anyway, it's coming (tee hee hee hee that's what he said!)

oh and my condolences to Anna Nicole Smith and family. Mainly her baby daughter. It's my belief that we lie in the beds we make, but sometimes, shit happens TO you, like to Smith's kids. and her poor, fatherless daughter. I hope that kid gets taken care of soon. the poor son, already too late for him. that family's a wreck; they'll never know each other. the daughter won't know her big brother or mother...thank you!
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