Personal

Indecision

“I’ve never been able to plan my life. I just lurch from indecision to indecision.”

— Alan Rickman

I have got to be the most indecisive person I know. At first I was certain that I was going to attend Pace University in New York. But I’ve recently been accepted to the University of Illinois at Chicago. Now I don’t know where I want to attend college at. Chicago and New York are both great cities and Pace and UIC are both great colleges. How do I decide? I don’t know where to start.

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Personal

One Day

“He who laughs has not yet heard the bad news.”

— Bertolt Brecht

One day I will log into this blog and will have no problems, no stress, no drama, absolutely nothing “bad” to write about. One day. Until then. . . . my mother now has 2 children that are her own; she had six. One is an adult and was formerly a ward of the state (me), another is in the custody of his biological father (my 13 year old brother), and two as of today are in the custody of my grandmother. That was news to me. My mom is on her way over here to drop off my two younger sisters, the two that her boyfriend had molested along with myself. I take no pleasure in knowing that my mom’s children are slipping through her fingers, one by one, but I am pleased that for the moment there is no one in my mother’s home that her boyfriend can sexually abuse. However, I will miss the solitude that being the only child in my grandmother’s home has afforded me.

Personal

Lighter News

“All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life—where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside it.”

—Miranda July

There has been a lot of drama and serious crap going on lately that it was a relief this weekend to get out of the house and just have fun. I went to the movies by myself Saturday night and again with my sister last night. Both times I saw Fifty Shades of Grey so I’ve seen it twice now. Since I’ve read the trilogy I should have known it was going to be graphic but I was still shocked at how graphic it was. Did I mention that I adore Jamie Dornan? That being said, he did not make a very good Christian. I adored him before he was cast as Christian Grey and I still adore him but every time his accent came through in the film I cringed because I didn’t imagine Christian with an Irish accent. But I still loved the film and Jamie. Its definitely a relief to blog about something “lighter”. And for those who haven’t seen Fifty Shades, go see it, and I hope you like it, if not then I guess its not your cup of tea. I know I enjoyed it.

Personal

Drama

“Conflict is drama, and how people deal with conflict shows you the kind of people they are.”

— Stephen Moyer

Drama. So much of it has happened. Just two days ago I saw a fully grown man jump out of a vehicle and chase behind a 13 year old boy. Said boy later claimed that the overgrown man had a gun hidden underneath his shirt and had attempted to shoot at him but the clip had fallen out. That boy is my little brother and the man is my mom’s boyfriend. I didn’t see a gun but the “adult” had no reason to chase behind my brother. There has been a lot of tension between the two because my brother has run away several times and claims that the reason he fled was that he was experiencing domestic abuse at the hands of my mom’s boyfriend. I don’t live in my mom’s house therefore I have no clue what is going on over there behind closed doors. Once again I found myself in a police station, giving a statement, and asked to describe any and all abuse that I have witnessed and experienced at the hands of my mom’s boyfriend. Will this ever end? Obviously the panic attack that I felt coming was clear on my face and one of the younger officers tried to strike up a conversation with me about mundane things, like school. What he was doing was pretty evident but it worked. I no longer had the urge to vomit, flee, and/or stop breathing altogether. Both the police officer and my brother asked me to write about any and everything, no matter how old. I wanted to hurl and flee. But I gave my statement, left, and prayed I wouldn’t have to experience my 8th grade school year all over again. That was two days ago. It seems odd that I would pray that the police would ignore my past abuse considering its practically haunting me but what good would it do? There was a trial, I recanted my allegations, the end. He got away. No need to put me or my sibling through that again. I’m not certain I would survive it a second round. Not to mention that there is such a thing as double jeopardy. He is free to terrorize and do whatever the hell he wants as long as my mom is willing and she is. Always. The End.

Personal

Enough

I fear I will never be okay. There is a storm raging inside me and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve had enough. Enough of the disappointments, blatant favoritism, lack of support, false promises. I always think “This time will be different” and it never is. I couldn’t even find a quote that would sufficiently describe how I’m feeling right now. I always say that I’m just done with my mom and yet every time she comes to me I do what she ask, always seeking her approval but never finding it. She takes what she needs and I never get what I think I need and deserve from her. I’ve been in high school for four years. My grandmother has spent over $1000 toward my school for my education and continuously supports me. My mom has spent $0 and is never there for me. I’ve had enough. I’m tired of asking and never getting. She couldn’t even come to ONE gymnastics meet. For state meet she told me she was taking my then one year old sister to see Sesame Street on ice. One of the most important moments of my life and she couldn’t show up for even five minutes. I can’t even go take the ACT tomorrow. I have no ride. She was my ride. I should have known better than to ask her and just taken in June or something but no, I thought “This time will be different. What could be more important than my taking the ACT?” Anything it would seem. She can’t do it. Find someone else. If I had someone else would I have asked? She is the absolute last resort for me. I ask everyone else before I ask her. I guess I can forget about applying to any college that requires the ACT plus writing. Good thing I had a voucher otherwise I wouldn’t be getting a refund back for not showing up to take the test tomorrow. But its the last straw. Her number is on my reject list and if I can’t get something from any other family member then I’ll forget about it because I won’t be asking her for another damn thing. She might as well not bother attending my graduation. Its not like she gives a damn about my education. I’ve just had it. Enough is enough.

Poetry

Your Creation

I want to cut out the darkness inside of me

And present it to you as a peace offering

I want you to see how broken and mangled

I am inside

I want you to see your handy work

Your creation

I want to shove it down your throat

Have it join with the darkness

That is raging inside of you

I want the world to see 

How jagged and deadly you are

For I am your creation

Personal

Mother & Son

“The unteachable man is sentenced to being taught only by experience. The tragedy is he reaches nothing further than his own pain.”

— Criss Jami

My 13 year old brother is schizophrenic. He has ran away for like the 4th time. My mom has already called the cops and no one knows where he is at but everyone assumes that he is going to come here, my grandmother’s house. Its at least below 30 degrees outside. I have been informed to not let my brother come into the house. My brother is disobedient, disrespectful, and he’s recently been expelled from his school. But I love him, he’s my brother. When I was 13 I had ran away twice. Once during broad daylight and another around 2 in the morning. I know what its like to run away with no destination in mind, just wandering around aimlessly, wondering if leaving was worth it. For the latter I had sneaked back into the house around 6 before anyone noticed I was gone. And for the former my mom discovered my location from my aunt and promptly picked me up. In both instances I hadn’t gotten far. But family is important to me. If my brother shows up at my door step at this time of night in this cold weather then I’m going to let him in. He has nowhere else to go. And he’s probably too stubborn to go back to our mom’s house. But you would think my mom would be a little more concerned. She sounded so. . . unconcerned on the phone. She claims that there is nothing she can do, that he should of thought of this before he left, and that she can’t force him to stay wither her. Maybe all of that is true but he’s her son. At what point do parents give up on their children? In my opinion, never. Never. I don’t care what anyone thinks of my brother or how ill behaved he is, he is my blood and I will always try to be there for him. I won’t ever give up on him. I just hope he knows that and comes home before it gets too cold outside.