Fallen Apart

I am still living, or atleast, I am according to the physical requirements. I am completely dead on the inside.

I am losing Matt in two days, and yet I cannot bring myself to show just how much that is wrecking me.

My Mom is now two days in the ground, and I feel as though I am back in January, standing over her coffin. Actually, tonight I have to attend a viewing for a friend of the family who's mother died this week. My life never quits giving me hell.

My dad and I look at each other and we no longer understand. The gap between us is so wide that it cannot be bridged, no matter how much we try. We will die never understanding what has happened with that.

Louie returned to the East Coast, and I miss him dearly. I know now that one person understands in my family, but I will never have the time to talk to him, and he can never again be here like he was this vacation.

I lived to Christmas, that is good I suppose.

Ben still thinks I'm a whore and I don't really care. I am a fucking whore.

Alex and I will never be close, and Dominic now knows I am insane.

Ian, my best-friend and my rock, has slipped away slightly. It will never be as it was. I am scared to tell him that I am worse than before because I fear the pain it will cause him.

Tears come only when I allow them to, and they fall from my face now. I am terrified of everything and still am not happy.

Matt described himself as "empty and scared" last night, and I knew once and for all that I have destroyed him. Like the dust I crush underfoot, he has been injured by my actions as well. I cannot move, cannot breath for fear of hurting someone else.

The fuzz is dissappearing, I am now able to focus a lot more clearly, which has turned out to be worse than the fuzz. Before I did not have to think, and now I face everything. When I do get the fuzz it is amazingly unbearable and actually causes me to do dangerous things, such as forget the last ten minutes, or brake to a stop when the traffic light is green.

Love is something I cannot feel, there is only lust and hatred. I desire death more than ever, but now realize that is not a choice for me. I cannot do this, but I will.

My mirror has fallen again, and it is shattered worse than before.

Blood on My Lips

Bit deep into my own flesh again, keeping these words from you. There is nothing that I would like to tell you more, but I know that you cannot understand, despite all the time we have spent together. The blood runs down, dripping slowly off my bottom lip to the ground below me. The tears I cannot give you, I am too far beyond that mess now. My hard blue eyes connect with yours and I feel them biting into you too. I am rigid and cold, my eyes eating into your soul, consuming every hope you once had. I soften, and bite deeper. I pain myself to spare you.

Bloody madness, my lips burn with every smile I make, ripping open the old marks.

I press on, blood on my lips to match the wounds on the hides of others. I am a predator, I will hunt you just as easily. Before I know what I am doing I feel my legs begin their move after you. Instinct has culled you out of the group for me as the weak one, and I begin to sprint. You are running now, the blood on my lips has crazed me. I only see the movement of your skin, and I leap, grasping you, dragging you down with me. I chomp into your muscle, reaching the bone which I crush. I realize that I am not hungry and am killing simply for the sake of destroying something. I want the chase more than the success.

Tonight I have blood on my lips, and it belongs to you.

The chase is over, and I have won, let the vultures have you. You are useless to me dead.

My Fallen Angel

Once the hand of God, you have slipped from your position of power. You were once my redeemer, yet now I redeem you. It cannot be as it once was, yet it is, every time. There is inner conflict, I desire you like I cannot explain, but you and I have both changed, and time is slipping away. The clouds you once rested on in nap now cloud the sun and block out your light. You are infinitely tormented by the plan of your own design, and you look for the second coming for a resurrection that will never be. Your dark eyes keep me locked in your pain, I cannot look away. I reach for you hand and you fall, I cry out in horror as you slide away, but you can no longer hear my pain.

My fallen angel, please believe. The only way back to eternal bliss is through your own faith.
The ground below you is rocky and hard, and you will meet it soon, because the fall is only so long.

My fallen angel, broken wing in tow. Please know that I still have faith,
In you.

A Frozen Moment in Time

Sitting in my room tonight,
I allowed the silence to surround me,
closing in its infinite darkness.

There is water, dripping off the very edge of a frozen water fall.
I look
The Water
Gathers
A Ball Now
Falls
Seeming Forever
Crashing into its frozen counterpart.

Before it can recover
A friend has decended on it
The first is crushed by the latter
They try to fight
Miniscus gathering
But the temperature catches them
They are cold
It reaches their interior
Ruins the form
And
Crystalizes their souls.
Soon
They become one mass
They wreck those that fall into them
Making them one in the same.
But
All
is
beautiful
in the eyes of an outsider
The passing hiker cannot see their struggle
A simple kodak moment
Snapping a picture of struggle
I step forward and wipe a tear from my eye
Then
I add it to the rest
And
Become part of the fight.
My warm salty tear melts the ice
The water will win
this battle
with help
the sun burns deep into
the ice
even the hardest of evil
is weak to kindness
to giving of one's own
a part of another to save the weak.
Not all is lost with sincerity.
I know that now.

Alone

I feel completely alone again. It is hard, knowing that all of you will read it and ask yourself how I could dare to feel like this when you are supporting me. I just am lonely.

There are few that I would push my problems on, but you all have become my witnesses. In honesty, I do not even know how many people are still reading my blog at all.

I am back to playing the game, the face that everyone else wants and crying myself to sleep. I hate life, but I will live it. I used to be happy, and I live for the memory of it.

I got my life back, and now, I realize, I am content in its emptiness. This is where I was meant to fit. I suck it in, and stop complaining, because there are other people with worse problems to worry about.

I am here, listening again. I am sorry that I have over stepped my boundaries in the past, I will no longer harbor my pain with you. I claim it as my own.

Please use me for some good, or else I truly have laid down everything, and lost it all for nothing.

My Best-Friend is dead today.

Ian, there was a day not too long ago that I distinctly remember riding in your car. I was almost dead, and planning on leaving you that very night. I felt that nothing could awaken my emotions again, but you turned to me as we neared Paseo and the freeway, and told me about the battle. You gave me a reason to keep fighting this war everyone else calls life.

Your Mom and Sister are wrong about a lot of things, but I am bad for you. Your blood is on my hands and I cannot wash it off. Looking into your eyes tonight when you left, I knew that only I was to blame. The real me, the honest and true Natalie, has killed you.

"I am already gone" was all that you said and I knew that I had lost you. I truly have failed you. Standing in that entry hall I knew that I could do nothing because if I change than I am not the me you want, but if I remain who I am, you will pay just as badly. I am harm. I am the personification of pain.

I have encountered a lot of death in my life, but today came as a surprise. I had never believed that you would give up completely until today, when I realized that you already have.

I am so sorry.

An Empty Win

My life is full of them. Situations where I have worked harder than I ever thought I would to get something I truly wanted, but really the want of it was a much more satisfying feeling than actually obtaining the object of my desire.

Christmas Day and my Dad has effectively bought my love for another year.

Was it ever love to begin with?

Will it ever be?

I am unsure that what I give to others can even be classified as love anymore.

I feel I won the battle, but the fight was what I was in it for, not the enemy's white flag.

An empty win.

As the Steed

I know what it is like, to be un-seated by your mount, to be left on the field of battle, bloodied from the fight, completely alone and without a weapon. Ian, now you are defenseless, but you are not going to be without your horse for long. I am coming back. I do not know about reinforcements, but I will face the onslaught of shots to reach you. Can you see me running toward you?

Hang on, I am coming, I swear to you I will make it. You are stronger than they are. REMEMBER THAT.

Suicide

Suicide, always the touchy subject. Once you mention it, bring it out into the open, you stand out like red against a field of the greenest grass. Nobody wants to really know, but nearly everyone is willing to blame himself/herself for the death of another.

Death has always captivated me, seduced me into its deepest realms. Tonight I sit calmly in its vicinity, considering everything that my unique relationship with death has provided me. Each sweet caress of death draws me closer, making me long for a final connection, making me want to lie with Death in a bed I make for myself.

However, the relationship has shifted dramatically within the last week. I told my Dad I was suicidal. He proceeded to tell my entire family. They are all pretending that it is no different than before. I had been seeing a psychologist for about two weeks now, and during that time he determined that I was in desperate need of help and medication. He contacted my father with my permission, and I saw a psychiatrist and was put on medication two days ago. On that day, I sat in the hospital, because one of my friends had admitted to their family that they were considering suicide. While my family ignored me, and generally rejoiced for my absence, I was thoroughly blamed for my friend's situation and generally attacked by his family for everything that I was. My friend was released from the hell of the psych ward at the hospital in the afternoon on Christmas Eve and is now living under the most strict of conditions. He is like a caged animal. If it were not bad enough, his mother and sister keep poking, trying to see what he will do next. I hate them so much.

My family beats me down. I do not even know why I continue if not for the promises I have made to Dr. Davison and Ian to survive until the Monday after next and beyond. Tonight I was told I was everything, but something good.

I am, according to my family:
"Crazy," "Stupid," "A bitch," "A whore," and an "an Ass-hole."

I would say that I am alone, but if absolutely necessary I know I could call Ian or Matt. I am tired of this bullshit. The worst part?

It is my first Christmas without my Mom. I have to be here for others and am not allowed to admit my insecurities and inner emotional turmoil. Ah Stoicism, the good old fashioned Poker Face that I place on myself today.

At least I learned one thing from Mom. Never cry. Never let them see that they can hurt you. Never give them that power. So I stand strong, and I pick up the weapon that my comrade dropped during the battle. You would be proud Mom, they do not even see the blood, and even if they did, they would assume it was because the red associated with Christmas. I bleed for you today.

I lift the sword above my head and strike the first enemy against me. I may die, but I will not leave a man on the field alone, and I will not give up on something that has a slight chance being won. I got what I wanted for Christmas already, and that was for my friend to make it, and for me to see this morning. Mom, why did you have to leave me? Why are so many people mean on such a religious holiday? What is the real meaning of Christmas anyway?

For God's sake, I do not even believe that Jesus was God, and I have to put up with this shit.
Oh, before I forget!

Merry Fucking Christmas Everybody.

Crazy

I have been a lot of things in my day, but never called crazy, at least to my face, until today. I have heard all the clinical terms from depressed to chemically unbalanced but never crazy, and I would have never imagined being shot down through my medical problems.

I pride myself of being mostly honest. I do not like lying, and I despise those that consider themselves "good" at it. The best lie is no lie, and when one can master that they can master anything. Anyway, I do not like being told I am wrong when I am being honest.

One of my friends told the truth today. He told the truth because I told him to. After he had spoken the truth about how he was feeling his family erupted into tears and yelling. I had not been that afraid of honesty in a long time.

Tonight, I cannot see my friend because he is with his family, but one of the things that got me the most about today was the fact that I became the enemy of his sister and his mother.

Some of the things I heard today when he stepped out of earshot:
"I don't think you should hang out with each other anymore, now that both of the family's know."
"What would you know? You are just as bad!"
"Well, you are both kind of crazy, so I don't think it's safe for you two to hang out."
"Well, YOU are SUICIDAL so why would you know what to do?"

It stung, bad. I know I am crazy and I have been fighting it for a long time. I just did not want to hear it when all I was trying to do was help.

However, the important part is, I think I did. He'll be ok.

The Jacket You Will Never Get Back

Driving up Alameda tonight with both windows rolled down on the suburban I was blasting country music and allowing the goose bumps on my arms to appear. It was Ian styles. Now I finally understand why he insists on freezing his balls off every time he gets behind the wheel. Anyway, looking over to make eye contact with the driver next to me at a stop light who was aghast at my music and the fact that they could see the breath with every lyric I was screaming at the top of my lungs, I noticed matt's leather jacket lying on my passenger seat. In all honesty, I will probably never wear it again, or if I do, it will be rare, like the fringe. In addition, like the fringe, the owner will never get it back. I have earned that thing.

Which brings me to tonight's epiphany, empowerment is key to success. Often we are told, as children, that it is not whether or not we win the game, but how we played. The thing is, in the game of life, many of the players are cheating. We are given the opportunity to play by the rules, or get ahead by making a new set of rules. This does not mean that we have become as bad as the cheaters; no instead we are simply evolving to meet the demands. If we did not, we would fall by the wayside as easily as the chimps that are still trying to fit the round peg into the square hole.

George Orwell has often commented on the plight of human existence in its struggle for perfection. For example, in his novel 1984 he showed that a utopian society would actually be Hell on Earth because no one would be truly leading anymore. That would no longer be evolution, no change; there would simply be a role that one is required to fill for the so-called "betterment" of the others in that society. As said by George Orwell, "He who controls the past commands the future. He who commands the future conquers the past."

Therefore, we have to dominate the current, create a reality that will become our past, and become our destiny.

"What you do here, on and off the course, makes a difference"

Words spoken to the SPX Cross-Country team ring true now. I am off course.

Today I saw that my blog had actually caused someone to hurt themselves for knowing the true me. I fear that others suffer because of my words and I can already think of one person who was afraid to speak to me after reading my blog for the first time.

Should I end it? Should this be my last entry?

I never meant to hurt anyone.

Let me know what ya'll think.

Little Kid Games

"There is a kid inside all of us."

When I was a child I used to pretend that I had about six very close friends. We were rogue agents, or the X-men, or vampires battling the werewolves. Anyway, what is important about this portion of my story, is that I have never let those imaginary friends go. Not to say I still run around talking to myself and shooting the villainous fiends who dare threaten my pals, but I do think fondly back on them from time to time.

Within these six I am Alex, the tom-boy girl who is the tragic heroine. There is her love interest, Ryan, but there is another man who loves her, Daniel. Daniel is her best-friend, and at some point Ryan always seemed to end up dead, at least from Alex's perspective. With the absence of Ryan evident, eventually she would fall for Daniel. When Ryan would reappear from his non-dead but absent state, he would discover Alex and Daniel together. Even though they had previously been friends, Ryan and Daniel would become enemies, combating for Alex's affection. Alex would then fall into despair, eventually choosing neither. Soon after that I would grow tired of my game and start over, this time in a different setting and being able to speak to chimps or something.

I have found myself in my games tonight. So I remain alone because I cannot choose. So stupid, I really need to grow up.

Love is beautiful. Love is safe. Love is all that you can want.

The floor of the kitchen reminds me that a friend will do anything for you, even stop you from hurting yourself. "Why the floor of the kitchen?" you ask? Well, because that is where one of my friends pinned me when I threatened to hurt myself.

There is nothing that comes close to the gift of loyalty. But there is never true loyalty without total honesty.

I am Alex. I will fight to my death for my friends, but I will not separate them, they are a part of me now. I need them.

The Greatest Guy You Will Probably Never Know

Why won't you know him? It is probably because you already do know him. His name is Ian Luders. However, here is why I think he is the best guy I will ever know, and the things you probably would not learn unless you were blessed enough to date him yourself.

• He will kiss you and mean it.
• He never wants anything but good for you.
• He will not let you leave if you are angry. He will make you talk it out first.
• He is taller than you.
• He is kind and gentle.
• He would beat the living hell out of anyone who tried to hurt you.
• He will hold you close if you want to be held, or he will back off if that is what you want instead.
• He is caring and sweet.
• He understands your insanity.
• He will battle with you through life, instead of against you.
• He is intelligent, and therefore will not be a complete dumbass like other boyfriends can be.
• He keeps to himself mostly, thus is pretty low maintenance.
• He loves skiing.
• He is the perfect hiking buddy.

And those are just a few. I wish I could explain why he is so great, but there is not enough words nor time to do so. I am so honored to call myself his friend.

You are my hero Ian. Never forget that.

Our Last Kiss (a longer entry)

At this point, I would doubt very much that Kellen, Jacob, and/or Leanne would not outright slap me for what I am about to tell you. Tonight, Matt gave in to my demands, just as I knew he would, and determined that we would try a relationship. After sufficiently using me for a good make out session, Matt discussed why we could not possibly try a relationship. Of course, this wrecked me, and I began crying. Then Matt made a request. "Could I have one final kiss?" came the words from his oh so kissable lips. "I don't want it to be the final kiss," I said, but I conceded, and agreed to give him that kiss. He wanted it to be good.

45 minutes later, I lay mostly naked by his side and was quickly realizing that he had no intention of a relationship. Upon dressing, Matt got up and went to the bathroom. I am a prostitute turning tricks for my pay, which in this case is love. When he came back, I sat on the edge of the bed, and looked up to him. He tried to put on my jacket, which, incidentally, is actually his jacket, but I stop him.

"That's what we were all about, always, weren't we? It was all physical gratification."

His response was basically an uninterested stare, followed by a joke about nothing, and a fart.

He sat down on the floor and leaned against the dresser. My Dad called in that moment, and I hurried to answer the phone. After a brief conversation with my Dad, I hung up. Matt reached for my hand as I stood, but I stepped beyond him. He is tired, his eyes are barely focusing.

"Get some sleep kid." He looks up at me as if I am speaking another language. I motion to my hands to imply that I am going to wash them. He nods in response.

I return moments later, and he is still in that position against the dresser. "Good night, take care of yourself." Both of his hands are in the air, as if I should help him up like a child, but I do not move from the doorway. He shows me his hand, blistered from the rock gym.

"Ouch. Can You tell me something Matt? Something honest?"

He pauses, "I am not a very good boxer."

I laugh, amused slightly, "No, something specific that I want to know."

"I knew there was a catch. Go ahead." He stands, bringing an old SPX flag to me so that I can return it to the school.

"Were you just using me tonight?" I already know the answer, but I refuse to show it.

He stands there, as if for the first time realizing that a grave sin has been committed, and the blood is only on his hands.

"Oh my God, what have I done?" his hushed whisper is one of mortification. What horrifies me more than the truth coming out, is that I had believed him, led myself into the same trap I had set for myself hundreds of times in years past.

"Matt, can I ask you something else?"

We sidetrack for a bit as he apologizes profusely, I accept them, knowing that I will only blame myself later. It does not matter because he can no longer touch me as he used to. I am a million miles away and gaining more ground with every moment.

"What are we now?" It is the same question I asked before, only this time I am not sure I want to know the answer. I do not want to hear any answer that he has.

He doesn't respond, his dazed expression is more than enough to prove to me that he is not going to answer.

"Are we friends? Best-friends?"

He looks up, "I guess, but a best-friend would not do that to someone they care about. You are my best-friend, I do not know if I am yours."

Later, I stand outside in the cold on his driveway. His final words, "Drive safely."

He has not come outside with me. Why would he? I am not his girlfriend. I am not someone he even cares about to a significant amount. I stood outside watching my breath leave my mouth and head toward the stars in the sky. Tears begin dripping down my face.

(Something that I will always remember about Matt and I is that every time we looked up at the sky the stars were blocked by clouds, or the city lights blacked them out so that they were not visible.)

I was really glad for the stars. It must have been that it meant it was over.

"Love is cruel. Love is hard, love is blind, love is foolish."
I began talking to myself, listing all the things that love could be.
"Love is mean, love is rude. Love is late, love is impolite. Love is evil."

Sucking deep in my breath I climbed into my car and drove one last time past that closed front-door. For the last time I let my hope be lifted in that he would be there. He never was.

As I drove down the hill west on Montaño before Coors, I was crying hard. I had been down the same hill crying so many times, but this time it was different.

Yes, I love him. I probably always will, but I tried to figure out why all the way home. This same situation has been played over and over again in my life only in the past I never pointed out to him that I was being used. I just took it.

Because driving home tonight at 2:16 was home. It was were my life should be. It was the plan I had made for myself before everything got taken away from me. It was all I had after it was taken away. The floor and bed in Matt's room were where I fit, where I served a purpose. While it might have just been a pretty useless cause, I needed love. I felt I could not get it anywhere else.

Now, you all reach out to me. Ian, I never deserved you. Every single one of you accepts me for this, for my mistakes, my hatred, my brilliantly stupid jokes. You accept it all like he never could.

I left a message on his phone tonight. "Matt, as your best-friend, I think you need to know something. You have to grow up. It's cool to play with people and everything, but at some point you have to mature, you have to grow up."

I would do it again, anytime. I want home. I really need help. I will never have it again, that feeling of right, of my past, just one last time.

Our last kiss, terribly, horribly, perfectly fitting thanks to our past.

I love that kid. I just wish he loved me. I gave so much in the hopes that he would.

Love is definitely evil.

6.5 and steady. You upped me .2 points Matt. You really cannot touch me. I refuse to let you.

The Battle

My friend described in his blog everything I wanted to say today, so I just have one thing to say,

He is my hero.

Keep riding Ian, the horse you're on would die before it let you down in safety. Please keep going. There is a beautiful sunset tomorrow that awaits you.

Love

There is nothing like the washing, deep emotion known as it. Seeing another person and knowing that they are your future, your everything. I tasted it again, the sweet nectar of love that I once used to take for granted. It was the best thing I have had physically and emotionally in a long time.

Matt is home for Christmas. Every moment was magic with him. At the same time it was torture, the tears welling up in both of our eyes because we want each other so badly and cannot have what we want. It is both of us hating our lives and wishing we could change it all for love. I would give it all.

Dentistry does not matter to me when I look at you Matt. I will never tell you that I would give up everything for you. Thank God you do not read my blog.

I want love. I want you Matt, with everything that I have. When you said, "(my) life is hard," you had no idea how much harder you make it.

I will never regret the 16th.

Love is beautiful, and is what will eventually drive me to my end. The bliss I experienced on that night will never be forgotten.

So glad for everything in the last two days. The two men I am closest to are still alive and talking to me.

I am so glad to be here right now. I still want to wreck myself, now more than ever, but I do not think I will even consider it before Christmas. I talked to Leanne, she's really cool by me now.

I am even more glad to have a blog now.

I love all of you, even those of you that will not admit to reading this right now.

Stay Safe,
Nat
6.3

P.S. As Matt's truck drove away today, my head started playing, "There goes my Life" by Kenny Chesney

Jacob and Leanne

I just wanted to let both of you know that I am quite aware that you were reading my blog.

So I give you, Leanne, my blogsite. You read it, and instead of talking to me about what's written on it, you report me to your upper management, Jacob. Since when are you a Jacob crony? That's ridiculous!

Jacob, how can you say that you care when you have YET to call me about my blog? If I EVER hear that either you, or Leanne, have dared to say that you are closer to me than anyone else, including complete strangers, I will find you, wherever you are, drag you kicking and screaming into the street and beat the living hell out of you.

You are lucky that I am sitting here, stewing in my own house over this on my blog rather than driving to your house to do that now.

You made me do something I never thought I would, and that is wrongly blame my best-friend for someone else's actions.

I am sorry to Ian for the previous blog, you did not deserve that.

Leanne, do not stop telling people about my blog. I do not care if people READ WHAT I WRITE, or I would not have put myself out on a blog to begin with! I would go so far as to announce my blog over the intercom in the morning announcements.

What was wrong with what you did is that you did not talk to me. Do not go behind my back.

I fucking hate gossip.

You Are A Threat

Ian, I know what he wanted on the phone tonight. I have to admit that I was testing you. I know Jacob is worried, about me. He found the blog. Honestly, I was testing you to see if you would tell me the truth, you failed.

Amazing, he still has not called about it. If he were really worried, maybe he would have talked to me. Oh wait, everyone fears me. Only Justin and Jolene brave addressing me directly, instead of going through you.

BOOOO! Deja Vu.

Do not act like I am on the in, if you are really keeping me out. I grow weary of this game.

Anger is building inside, and half of me is searching for a place to direct it. Do not give me a reason to hurt you.

I trusted you.

A falter, ah, the misstep and there it is. The fatal error.

If I were you I would think carefully about what you said to Jacob. Make the right decision.

People who talk shit get it, especially from me.

I do not like my safety being threatened by other people. It is people like you who TAKE ME TO THE EDGE and then prod trying to see if you can push me over.

Stop keeping shit from me.

No, why not go have your own life? Leave me out of it perhaps? Oh wait, I am already there.

Dreary Day

I am so dehydrated right now that my head feels as though it is on fire. I am exhausted, and way too sober to be facing today. No, I am way too ALIVE to be facing today.

Saw Justin today, and for the first time he was deeply affected and hurt by the way I am. Depression sinks in deeper. I never meant to bring others down. I wish people were just capable of walking away if I am hurting them, but they never do, so I destroy them as well. Like flies on my spider web, I suck them dry, leaving them worn and empty. Used and forlorn are my sacrifices.

Jolene put up a blog for me, I was amazed. In all honesty, I never thought people cared. As soon as I had posted it last night my phone started ringing, it was Ian. He told me not to do it, because Dominic still needed me, so I did not. I stayed, lying on my bed begging God to kill me, but I lived. Damn it all to hell, nothing goes my way.

I got an email last night from Robyn. Some people have crazy timing. I was going to go and not see today, and Ian, Robyn, and Jolene were there. Justin reinforced the reason for my existence today. I have never been so happy to have someone know who I truly am. He never references it in front of others, but he knows. He would be there for me anytime if I asked.

I am thinking about drinking quite heavily to survive this weekend. Anyone want in?

Damn my head hurts.

ttyl,
Nat

I keep on smiling

Inadequate. Completely untalented. Hardworking. Tired.

That's me.

WHY THE HELL DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE SO HARD????

I'm tired of this bull shit. I am weary of God's sadistic sense of humor.

JUST FUCKING KILL ME!


.6 and falling.

So pissed.

The only thing that keeps me from hurting myself is the hatred that I have for everyone else who gets to take the easy road when I keep going on the cactus filled rocky trail, barefoot. I carefully pick my way through, but I am too slow and everyone else is reaching their destination so much faster.

I just want to sit down. Melt in the hot sun. Lips chapped and bleeding.

I cut into my flesh and it burns. I hide my scars where no one can look. I hate everything.

I hate love. I hate God. I hate the fact that I put this on my blog and you'll read it. Justin, Jolene and Ian see the bad. No one else sees it but you guys. And I hate you for knowing.

So damaged.

I think I'll go watch some Ally McBeal and finish it tonight. I don't want to see tomorrow.

There's no use studying anymore for a test I won't take.

Ian, please watch out for Dominic.

Stay safe.

Last Night to Live

Drowning did not work. It turns out that the bathtub leaks. I guess that's like everything else in my life, nothing holds any water.

Trying to come up with a new plan. I fear failing for I would not want to live this life anymore hindered than I already am. I would not want to be a vegetable.

Slitting my wrists. I would probably be found before time ran out.

Jumping off a bridge? Pretty good chance I will survive AND be painfully handicapped.

I now have a system in which I rate my level of suicidalness. That's not even a word. Oh well. This will be my grammatically incorrect paragraph.

Anyway, 1 is a suicide attempt, and 10 is perfectly fine, suicide is the last thing on my mind. Have not been above 8.4 in the last two weeks. Today was the peak, but I have dipped back down again. Ranging somewhere around 4.9 right now and steady.

Overdoses usually do not work, because people find you, and then you are ridiculed continually by the nurses and other staffers of the hospital for such a stupid attempt.

Starvation, that is key. I will just simply stop eating.

Or just walk off, down the road. Also involves starvation/dehydration, but it hurries the process up and gets me away from my family. Someone else besides them would find me that way.

Back to my plan. The walk-away.

Timing is key.

4.9 and steady. Think of the sunrise my friends, there is time yet.

"One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic." -Joseph Stalin
(That man is sick, I love it.)

What I Did Not Tell You Earlier

Looking at you today, you kept asking me what it was, and I could not say a word. "Why?" you are surely asking me by now, but it was because I could not say the truth, and I would not dare a lie in your presence. You are way too good for that kind of disrespect.

I was pleading, internally, for you to walk away. Every single molecule in my body was pleading with you to leave because I was dying, was killing myself to be next you, giving everything I had. However, even though I knew I had the strength to walk away, I knew that I could not. I fear, and feared, that you yourself would not be able to handle it. More than anything, I wanted you to walk away because it would mean only one thing to me, you were strong enough. If I pushed you out, then it meant that you were not ready. You had to do it on your own.

I needed you to go, or I might have died, and I do mean soon. I was losing it. I can barely love anything anymore. Even the sounds and smells of a dental office are losing it for me. You are right, I do need help, and I am trying to get it, but I would not have made it. Thank you for finding the strength for the third option. You have saved my life yet again.

There are many times today when I thought about saying only things I knew would hurt you. I wanted to see the look of pain on your face, and I was shaking to keep myself from doing so. I am so sorry.

Please do not forgive for what I have done, but instead give me the opportunity to make it up to you.

BTW, here is something I am thinking of in regards to you tonight:
"You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection." -Buddha

Love,
Nat

Drowning

I close my eyes and slide along the back of the tub into the water. Everything becomes quiet save for the quite sloshing of the small waves above me. I feel the bubbles rise from my nostrils and begin their ascent toward the surface, I won't be joining them.

Longer and Longer I wait under water.

I start thinking about all the things I've done, the people I've hurt, and the people I'll hurt tonight.

It seems like ages, but I've only been under for about a minute now.

Forgive me family, I'm weak. That seems to be such a good excuse for so many people. I was not strong enough. When has someone been born strong enough?

My lungs burn, and I brace the sides of the tub. It is decision time.

I stay, but my chest bursts and I freak, sucking in the water. Sputtering, I fight off the urge to rise to the surface.

Noone in my family is home, there is noone to save me. I relax and force another swallow of water.

Water sloshing as I come up from underwater. My head spins, I do not have the strength to push the water from my lungs. I guess sometimes being too weak is a reason after all.

Death comes as I wait by its waters. I'm sorry everyone. Take Care of Yourself.

A Comment On "The Worst Good Thing"

I did not want to keep intruding on your blog, so tonight my comment goes out to you from my own. You know who you are.

I never meant to make you feel guilty. That is the exact opposite of the reason I did what I did. I was, and am, trying to lighten your load, but I have failed you again. I am sorry for that.

The reason you see it in my eyes is because I let you, I could lie to you just as easily as I lie to the world. There are few who can see suffering when they do not want to, there are even fewer who can see suffering when it is well hidden.

I will do anything for you. I care deeply for you, you are my best-friend. I meant it when I said I would die for you. What do think I am doing inside of myself tonight?

Do not worry, I know that I have you when I fall, so I will survive this. You are worth everything, if to nobody else than me! I need you to take care of yourself, and if that means no third option, than I will survive without it.

Look at your life! FOR GOD'S SAKE MAN, take something for yourself! Selfishness is not a sin when it is REQUIRED for SURVIVAL! You asked for something out of me, and I gave it, please just take it and do not say another word. I do not need thanks, and you do not need to further injure yourself over it!

Please take care, and always remember, I got your back.

-First Mate Nat

No Third Option

Ideally, at conception, we are given an unlimited amount of choices in order to successfully accomplish whatever we may wish to in our life. In reality, our choices have already been limited by the womb we preside in. Are we rich? Are we lucky enough that our genetics provide us with a healthy life partnered with attractive features? Are we male, or female? Will we have cancer when we are 8? How about when we turn 80?

Will our life be hard?

Each choice that is made, either for or by us, changes the future options we will have. Will we remember the good about a dead relative, or will we see only defeat, and unhappiness? Each choice gives us a new perspective, and while we try to attain the old selves we once owned, we are forever changed in our presence.

In addition, sometimes there is the outcome we wish as a choice, and sometimes there are only options we wish we did not have to choose from. In fact, sometimes the choices are so undesirable, we wish we could simply slip back into the life we had before.

However, that is the one choice we never have. We remember, and anyone else who was involved remembers.

One of the hardest things I am still trying to accept is that life cannot be erased. I am forced to realize, everyday, this is the life I lead. There is not another I can have, because any choice I make today is already limited by my past actions. This idea may be considered pessimistic, but no, it is rather REALISTIC. There is no escape from the past because given the opportunity you would live it THE EXACT SAME because you have already proven that YOU, not someone else, would make those choices.

Our future is set.

Tonight, I make a choice, and know that neither one of the options are the one I wanted. It is fruitless to believe there is a third, and instantly I am relieved to know that given the option in another life, I would make the same choice.

No third option. No change of plan. Sometimes life gives us the opportunity to see exactly what we made for ourselves in our past choices. Never regret, because you are still you, and there is no choice that can change it.

To A Faithful Steed, Even in Death

Since the dawn of domesticated horses, there has been a special connection between the horse and the rider. When mounted horsemen were imperative to battle, the horse and rider would go in as one being, bearing the colors they represented. The horse would die just as willingly as the soldier, but for a cause it could never possibly comprehend. For a brief moment, they were fighting together, dying for the soldier cause. The horse would be murdered because it wore proudly the colors of its master; it endowed all of its trust in that human.


The feeling of being one with a horse is unlike any other feeling in the world. Knowing exactly what the animal was thinking, doing, and feeling was a connection that cannot be described to anyone who has never felt it. The closest that comes to mind is the dog and master who hunt together, feeding each others minds with their thoughts and moving as one to retrieve the kill. Each step as Equine and Equestrian are in sync and each motion fits like neither has ever felt before.

Horses moving together in a pack wild and free, that must be horse heaven. Or can it be? Do they not desire their masters hand at their neck, their weight upon their back, urging them forward, faster and faster, toward an adrenaline rush they both know is coming. They dodge around bushes, moving, bareback and free toward ecstasy. Would that not be heaven? Perhaps when a horse dies, it goes to wait, ever in expectation with the other horses, until a rider, no, THEIR rider, comes to take them to the Promised Land. A sort of Horse limbo if you will.

Stormy, you must wait for me. Let not the temptation of another rider’s promises take you, they will never love you as I have. They will never touch you as you have touched me. Please, stay fast in your convictions. You are the best-friend I have ever had.

Galileo misses you. Billy desires your warmth. There is no horse that can fill your place. Please take care. I love you.

Apparently I have low self-esteem

So I took a little self-esteem test tonight, and I'm sorry to say it describes me to a T. Granted, it's trying to have me buy into acne medication, but this is a pretty accurate description of me:

Natalie, your self-esteem could use A Little Boost

Whatever. OK, so maybe you're not a total wastoid, but you might have a touch of slacker in you. While marching to the beat of your own drummer is great, being apathetic isn't going to get you anywhere.Maybe you don't worry about consequences or maybe you just don't care. Either way, showing passion for your interests and taking care of yourself are two ways you can feel happier every day! When you find something you can put your energy toward — besides sleeping or being negative — you'll find that life is that much more interesting, and you will be, too! So take a more active interest in school, a hobby, a job, or some other activity that inspires you, and you'll see your self-esteem soar.
So go ahead and give your self-esteem a boost. Clearer skin could be just the lift you need to have unblemished confidence. Click here to see how you can give your complexion a boost.

Levels Of Hell

http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-test.mv

I got the fifth level of Hell, take it and see where you are at.

Stormy

My horse is dead today. I am not even sure what to say because I feel so dead inside. I want my old life back, I say silent prayers as I walk in between classes that beg God to let me awake from this horrible dream. None of this is real. You will all see that it is true, none of this is what we believe it.

Irrepairable mistakes, that's all I seem to make. I ruin everything, and I kill the things I really care about. The desire to break something is gone, because I know now that I already do destroy things and wreck them beyond comprehension.

Well, I am trying not to cry. I have to go call my Dad. They are coming to pick up Stormy's body at 3:30 today, so if I want to say goodbye I have to be there.

Life sucks.

Until Tomorrow,
Utterly Depressed

Chubs

I'm super worried about one of my closest friends tonight. I look at him and I see the exact same emptiness I'm trying to hide from the world. I'm not trying to say our situations are identical, but I'm extraordinarily stressed because I don't know if there is anything I can do.

In addition, I feel as if I am. . . NO, scratch that. I KNOW I am keeping something from him, but every time I look at him it just doesn't matter anymore. What matters more than anything is being a good friend. His smile seems so empty sometimes, I wish I could save him from himself.

He's part of my group of three. I'll call the guy I described above A, and the other guy B. Well, A and B are all I have on most days, but today was really bad. We were all down in the dumps. Normally, I can help A or B out of slump. Or A and I can help B. Or A and B are capable of saving me, etc. However, one of us cannot save the other two. I look at them and know that I can no longer support either of them, and they are falling as well. How long with it be before we all crash and burn?

Never above 5 these days. Still battling at 2.7, but I fear I'm falling.

Probably be at around .08 by morning, but I promised Ian I'd be at school tomorrow. Guess I will be there, regardless of whether I want to or not.

Check out Jolene Santo's Site for a real person with a few less problems, or perhaps the same amount but a different way of handling them:
http://coloradolove.blogspot.com

Dang, my phone just rang, gtg!

The X-Files

So based on a quiz I just took, I'm apparently the lone gunmen from the X-Files. That is, assuming I were to be a character on the X-Files. Not exactly a huge, as would be said in Mr. Cappleman's class, "Newsflash! Newsflash! Newsflash!", but it is part of me. Just thought I'd let you know that. Check out the site for yourself and see which character you are!
http://http://quizilla.com/users/ElvenAgain/quizzes/Which%20X%20Files%20character%20are%20you?/

Iancredible's Ultimate Blog-Frenzy!

Iancredible's Ultimate Blog-Frenzy!

I have no idea how to get this into my profile. Anyone who wants to help me would be really cool to me.
Yo, This is Me.

I Fucking Hate My Account

My school account is so jacked. Why do I get fucked over when I have more important shit to get done then staring at Penises like some people do. In addition, I don't deserve to get as jacked by that school as I do.

I hate people.

Looking at Jolene's, Justin's, and Ian's entries tonight on their blogs, it is clear to me that nobody is who they used to be. Life will never be as it should be. I hate that everyone has to change because of the experiences they have.

Looking in the mirror I can see clearly the reflection of the woman I never wanted to be, and I'm starting to be okay with that, which is probably bad. 4.1 and falling.

Today Was Not That Bad

I need help. Looking at myself today, trying not to kill others, I realized how badly I needed it. So therefore, I have chosen to dedicate myself to saving others from my pain. Woohoo psychoticness. Even my family has started to notice. Soon I will get my full fledged name "Karen Rivera." One can only achieve so much in the area of crazy.

The Worst Nightmare

So I had a dream last night, one where I knew it was a dream, but I still let my subconscious take me wherever it may just so I could see how it ends. My Mom was in it, I guess that is what kept me in the dream for so long.

I am driving my car, the suburban and I see her. I try to drive off, but my mom battled her way into my car with more power and strength than anyone I had ever fought before. I was soon helpless and she sat beside me as if nothing had happened. She did not hold it against me for fighting her away. She then tries to convince me that she was never dead and has simply been away, like on vacation, for the last ten months. I believe her, forgetting the funeral, her coffin, and the ashes.

I awoke teary eyed and was terrified as soon as I realized that she is dead and gone. I looked to the clock. 1:37 am. I wanted to call Ian and beg him to come hold me. I didn't want to be alone. Then I realized that I did not have to. I could quickly slip back into my dream and be with my mother. I would not have to miss her anymore if I could just hold onto that memory for one more night. Clutching my pillow I rolled over back into the restless slumber, hoping soon to be again in the car with my mother.

We are walking through my living room, past the recently decorated Christmas tree toward the back door which stands wide open. Damn, I missed part of the dream! It is warm outside, like in the summer. Dominic is laughing in the dark next to the recycling bin. Dad and Julia are smiling, I must have missed a pretty funny situation or story. Dad has his arm around Julia, he looks completely in love. They look up in the dark toward me, and then beyond. I know in that moment that Mom is standing right behind me. Nobody says anything. Guiltily, as if I have ratted out my father, I say "Mom's home." His eyes darken, and they step apart. Without looking back, Mom's voice drifts over me. "It's okay." My Dad reaches for Julia's hand, and they connect again.

I am awake again, briefly. 2:00 am. I could still get more sleep, so I roll over and do. I have to know how it ends.

I am a ghost, no one can see or hear me except those that truly try to. I know that Mom is dead so I try to find her among the other ghosts, but we are all lost children, and I am only nine. I cry, and my family sees me but cannot touch me. I am alone again.

I awake, but do not look at the clock. Come on Natalie, just a bit more sleep and you'll see the end!

Suddenly I am in a field, driving an ancient stick shift suburban. White on the outside, tan on the interior. My passenger seat is empty, and I feel the stress that I am searching for something. It must be her. Where are you Mommy? I am scared because I fear what I will find, ashes and nothing more. I do not want that to be the end of my story. I drive on. I am driving stick way too well, I am reassured that this is simply a dream.

Instantly I am outside, standing on a ramp usually used for loading cattle on the truck to go to market. I am holding a baby goat and begging Quentin and Elliot not to kill it. Eventually I jump down, realizing that they have no intention of letting the kid escape alive. I begin running, dodging Quentin's ceaseless fire. I am surprised as the goat tranforms into another type of kid, a human baby boy. I run with him tightly bound in my arms to the nearest barn in hopes of finding the white suburban there. It is not, and the barn gives Quentin only free shots at us. I sprint on to the second barn, and find the car there. We drive away, hearing the gunfire hit the car's metal with loud bangs. Even though the baby is scared, he does not cry.

I am scared, again. 5 am. Still an hour to sleep. Please Lord, let me see her again!

A large estate overlooks the fields I had been dodging my way through only moments before, except it is several years later. It is an M. Night Shyamalan film, I can tell that something is awry already. Across the fields the city lights go out, and a brunette woman I have never met screams that they are coming. She is quickly silenced by Julia who directs the woman and, her son, the baby boy from earlier, who is now five, towards the attic. "Lock the door." The creatures in the woods are coming. They have feet like the aliens from 'Signs.' If light gets shined in their eyes or you make eye contact, they'll kill you instantly. We are hurrying to shut off the lights. I am asked, "What can I do to help" by the person to my right. I direct her to shut off the light in the kitchen. I look up, right before she hits the switch, and I see her, Mom. "All clear" she says, and vanishes into the darkness. I know she is gone. I am alone, and the creature stands before me, using a flashlight I check the creatures feet. In the narrow circle of light I see them, a pair of hideous and gnarled gray feet, they are not human.

"WAKE UP NATALIE! We still have to get gas!" Ben the alarm clock awakes me at 6:32 and I shake away my sleep. I don't know if I'll ever see my Mom again and I tremble with the thought of another dream such as last nights. The idea of not seeing my Mom terrifies me, but last night's experience horrifies me to the point of tears. Today is going to be a bad day.

Mama

Tonight I write for no one, yet the words are sent to anyone who will read. I grow weary of the sunlight that burns my eyes, yet it is the only thing that brightens my dark existence. I am tired of everything. Tired of myself, tired of the pain, tired of the words you never said, Mother. I'm tired of you. I'm tired of the tears I wasted today trying to bring you back into my life. Your words still haunt my soul, tearing at my face, ripping my skin to pieces. You are my everything, and you are nothing. I hate you. You may be dead but that doesn't change the curse you gave me on my conception, and I am now you. I am crazed, biting at myself in an attempt to destroy the bad. Are you happy now? Well, screw you, screw everyone, I want to die everyday, yet the sun keeps coming up and bringing me back into its burning light.

I fit their description, their words penetrate my mind and tear me away from myself. No one but my love knows me anymore, and anyone I used to be has been destroyed. The blood drips endlessly off of the guilty petals and I am lost. Lost in the deep crevices of Insomnia. Lost in the mind of tortured. Lost in the coffin that you helped to build.

So then, finish me. Bury me alive among all the others. Take me and put me where none can remember the trouble I have caused. Do not mark my grave, leave me to take my last breaths beyond human ears. Do not spare me pain now, you have already cut me too deep to matter.

Eventually, we are all nameless in death.

AcaDec Locals

For most people, Saturday December 4th was a last ditch effort to pass the SAT's and move on with their lives. It came as a day of dread, and I, on that day, (unlike many of the others that grabbed their number two pencils and headed out with an acceptable calculator), was preparing for a different kind of test. AcaDec locals consisted mostly of me sitting in an auditorium from 10am to 4pm. Why? Because I desperately want to make the team. Anyway, I did really well, so I basically guaranteed myself a spot on the team. I really hate studying that crap, and I have no idea why I want to be part of that organization so badly. I am getting Senoritis really horribly because all of my college applications are in. I don't want to wake up tomorrow, and I definitely don't want to go to school.

Day One

Recently inspired by my good friend Jolene, I've decided to give this thing a try. I figure maybe someone will take an interest in my life eventually, and this way I can direct them to some of my history that way they can find out early on how dysfunctional I truly am.