|
| I need to write. I just need to.
I have so much bottled up inside right now. I don't think anyone realizes that I am tearing myself down inside. Ruined by the scars of last years pain, unable to hide from these guilts and fears, and mostly the pain and depression. I feel like it has been slowly creeping up on me now. Like I have been trying to hide. Hide from it, as well as hide it from me. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to write that will help me. Will writing it get it out? Will reading my essay help me feel. Should I cry and see if it comes spilling out of me like a river that actually has and end... or will that just lead to the ocean. Will I find myself drowning in sorts of my own miserly lined with passionate memories? Will I find myself back in last years fate? A fate left by myself cocooned in my bed. A fate where there was one person who I thought would be by my side to guide me, hold me, and cradle me. But I was wrong then. And I have no hope for that now. I don't have anyone here to see me through it. I don't have anyone here to cradle me at night, to keep me from crying myself to sleep with the pain.
I've forgotten what it is like to kiss. To passionaltly kiss. A kiss of love. I have clear visions in my head of when I did. Of the last time I did. To care that much. To feel a kiss move completely through my body and be the one thing that I found most amazing. To be that in love. I believe I was in love. I believe I still am. At least, in love with what we had. In love with our passion, our hope, our commitment. And it died. I miss him. And I hate him. I want him to feel the pain that I feel. I want him to know that he hurt me. And right now I feel the most pain, because he wasn't there for me last year when Alex died. And he isn't here now. No one is here now. I can't handle this. This guilt. This pain. This frustration. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to turn. I don't know how to get the help I need. And really all I need is someone to care. To love me and hold me. And to let me cry. He never let me cry. I just want to go back to last year and make it all different. I want to change my life. I want to change her life. I want to change the one thing that truly tore us apart. I want to change the pain I felt then, and still feel now. Only recently did I come to terms. And now a year has passed and I still have to face her. Face her pictures. Face her memory. I didn't go through enough? I need to cry myself asleep because I can't get the memories of when everything was right out of my mind? I need to cry myself to sleep because I can't get the memories of when everything crumbled before my eyes? I need more pain than I went through last year? It couldn't end there? It has to torment me now too?
Why can't this all be over? Why can't this all just be a nightmare where I can wake up and change it all?
I just want a different life. I don't want this one anymore.
| | |
| So maybe I shouldn't have done it. But I couldn't help it.
Basically, we came across some pictures of me on Ron's old band site,
and I flipped out. I wanted them removed, and he refused.
So this is what I sent him:
"Ron, I am asking you very nicely to take
care of this. I am trying to be very civil. Unfortunatly you are being
uncooperative with me and it is apparent that you are ignoring the
isssue at hand. This is your responcibility to correct, Ron. You do not
have my consent to have my name or pictures on your website. I
understand that you have no association in the band, but it is still
your web page. I am prepared to press charges if I must. I have
discussed this with a police officer. I have every right and intention.
Please remove it immediatly before I have to go to the authorities. "
I know... I can be vicious... but I really wanted everything taht associated me with him gone. So he sent me this back!
"actually i wasn't saying anything because i was trying to take it down.
i dont' remember how i did and I was trying to recall. so if you
please, wait"
Which is a complete lie. I know it. He was scared... and I
am very glad. Everything is gone now. So obviously my
threat worked. But he refused to change it himself. He
said, "find someone esle." Hah! So I wrote him back.
And this isn't what I meant to come out. It just did.
"Yeah. I'll wait. But you can't blame me. You refused in the only
message that you replied to and I know that you read the other one. So
I assumed you were trying to get the best of my emotions as you have
already claimed the best of my trust and ruined it. So sue me if I am
not letting you pull anything over on me agian. I have already been
made a fool of by you. I refuse to let anyone ever do it agian,
especially you. I guess that from blind sighting me and making me
believe in things about you, me and breaking up my friendship (for what
ever reason, be to keep me to yourself or what ever went through your
mind), I will not easily allow my trust to be ripped apart. I guess I
learned that my trust issues should have continued rather than learning
to trust you. Now that I will no longer fall nieve victim to you, I
know what is in my power. I expect my pictures gone within three days,
or I better have an update explaining why they aren't. Or I will press
charges out of revenge for not being respected through our relationship
or through this seven month breakup. Just remember that this is one
responcibility that you can not break from, and I can and will hold you
to.
"And by the way, I have one more thing to say. Last time when you said
you were sorry "for whatever I said, I didn't mean to make you upset. I
was just mad and saying things." I want to add that I am sorry too.
Sorry I ever believed you, believed in you, met you, hurt you, loved
you, and most of all for trusting you, loosing my virginity to you, and
finally for letting you scar me. You have no idea what a horrible
hypocrite you became. You blamed me for things you knew were not
happening in my life, just to make yourself feel better about the fact
that I couldn't put myself through what you were doing to me any
longer. You claim I changed, when really it was that you changed me.
You turned me into a very hostile person. But I am back to myself.
Every one of my friends say that I am back to the person I was with the
exception that I have grown through my experience with Alex. Yes, the
same death that I am refrencing is the one that you refused to help me
through. You worried over your own pain and not knowing how to handle
it rather than just letting me cry like I begged you to. But this was
the first of it. Now that I know how you have changed Ron. Stop
accusing me of turning into a slut and a partier. You complained that
we didn't talk enough, well apparently you didn't listen when I did
talk. You broke up my friendship with Kristen. You lied to your friends
about me. You told them I was going out every night when you damn well
know that I was in my room doing art projects. I would like to see you
take my class load. You compare your enginering to it, when even the
pre-meds compare to the art majors here. You are joking if you think
your school is so hard compared to mine. You couldn't make it through
the stress. Yet, you had to add more to mine didn't you? You were the
one who dropped your friends so that you could spend time with me when
I was the one telling you to go off with them so I could spend time
with my mother. You made me blame myself for your friends dropping you,
when really you did it all on your own. How can you even justify the
lies you tell behind my back? And the sad thing is that you know that
is the worst revenge possible. My philosophy has always been that you
can say as much about me as long as it is true. I am not ashamed of my
actions. But once someone turns around and tells lies that compromise
my integrity, I became hurt and ashamed (because I am so afraid people
will believe such lies). You have succeded in completely ruining my
self esteem and my integrity with your lies that some people did listen
to. You made me into a slut (figuratively, as that was the largest of
your lies that I caught you in), to make yourself feel better. How dare
you continue to ruin me and tear me down after all that time. I trusted
you, even after we broke up. I tried to talk. I tried to be civil. but
that ended when I caught you in your lies. I finally figured out that
our entire relationship was based on lies. You never had one ounce of
trust in me because you were too dumb and self concious. You couldn't
have believed that I wouldn't stray. Not once. I always had to
convience you that there was no one else. You couldn't trust that I
would be faithful, when I gave you every ounce of trust in my body. It
tore us apart and you know it. If it weren't for that we might have
actually made it. But I am gratefull that I learned what a lying,
coniver that you turned to be. I still thank god every day for you, but
now I thank god that he got you out of my life before you could have
done more damge to me than you already did. Stop pretending that you
are the only victim here. I am trying to take off your blind fold over
the situation, to help you see what you caused in me. Now if you hadn't
been uncooperative in the first place over getting those pictures
removed, you never would have heard this ffrom me. I do realize what
you went through too. This is not a one way street like you think of
it. I consider both sides. I always put so much blame towards any
hardships in your life on myself for not doing enough. But at least I
tried. In the end, it was I who was screwed. It was I who really was
affected. It was I who was scarred and left with the only thought
towards you as my most "unforgivable regret."
For those who don't know, this has been a very passionate battle for
me. I was typing so furiously and my face felt so hot.
Hotter than I ever remember. I feel like such a vicious
bitch. I really honestly don't think any of it would have come
out if it weren't for the last voicemail that he sent me say that the
last time we talked he was sorry if he said something to upset me....
it was above. The last time we talked was when Maggie and Kristen
helped me catch ron in the lie. I yelled at him and said a lot of
what he needed to hear. But apparently he didn't pay attention to
me if he thought it was "something he said." I just got in such a
passionate frenzy that I couldn't stop. I just couldn't.
I ask myself... What does this solve? Probably nothing. But
I feel so much better. I feel like I have had all that coped up
for so long. And what is sad, is that there is so much
more. This only touches the surface, really. I didn't go
into detail about what utter nonsense he put me through.
I ask myself... Did I go too far? Will this come back to haunt me? Only time will tell.
I ask myself... Will these harsh truthfull words get through his thick skull once and for all? I'm not holding my breath.
| | |
| Sunday August 6, 2006
As I overlook the Ohio River from some state
park (whose name has momentarily escaped me) in Indiana, I find myself
unable to relax. It really is beautiful, but my mind is reeling
through the various things I must do in the next week before returning
to Miami. Isn’t it amazing to think that I have an entire year of
college finished?
All through High School the only thing that I
wanted was to go to college. It wasn’t that I was worried that I
wouldn’t be able to go, but that I thought it would be the time of my
life. No more fake drama, fake friends, or fake classes. I
thought that first year would be the best thing that ever happened to
me. Here I find myself looking back and praying my year doesn’t
turn out the same. Last year was an absolute nightmare. I
never dreamed I would have such a horrible time at college. It was
nothing anyone could have helped.
Thinking of last year almost brings me to
tears. Now that I think of it, a lot has almost brought me to
tears lately. Mostly happy things. But last year was
awful. Alex couldn’t have imagined her first year being a large
impact on other people either. We never knew my life was in store
for a large awakening. I don’t talk of Alex. I feel like
shit when I do, because I don’t regard her highly. And I found
that when I did want to talk about Alex, the only person that was there
to listen was mom. If it weren’t for my mother I would not have
made it through last year. No one knows. I have said this
so many times when talking about Alex, and it is the most honest thing
I could ever say:
If I had found out any other way than from my mother, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.
Honestly, if I were called into a room with Alex’s close friends and
told the same way they were, I would have gone straight back to my
room, called mom, and begged to be brought home for the week. And
I mean desperate crying, begging. I am most thankful for this
small gift that God gave me. It means more than any other gift he
could have sent my way through all of this. It made me
stronger. It made me happier to hear it from someone who deeply
cared about how this news would affect me.
Already, I look back and wonder how I did
it. I don’t know how I just bucked up and took care of
business. I informed all of her friends. I informed the
school for goodness sake. I think that is the only reason that
her family called me. They didn’t know whom to tell, so they told
me… and sent me to deal with it all. It was worse to throw me to
a bunch of school officials and teenagers who have never had to deal
with death, rather than a pack of hungry wolves.
The family did leave me to deal with their
affairs. They knew that I was contacting her friends. The
asked me to. They promised they would call me as soon as they set
up the funeral so that I could help make arrangements for students at
school. They broke that promise. I found out from the
school newspaper as I walked to a meeting with my English
teacher. I cried uncontrollably at the news. I was crying
with fury and I was crying about the article. They couldn’t say
anything personal about her. It was awful. It just kept
repeating that she like art and was a good student. Who is going
to believe anything found about her without any proof or voucher when
you follow it with “First-Year died of Drug Overdose.”
The funeral was awful. Seeing her casket
at the visitation was more than I can say. I have tears now from
the visual forever imprinted in my mind. The first room had tons
of photos. They had a couple of us at her house the year
before. I felt honored. I felt ashamed. Then I saw
the casket in the next room. I just felt paralyzed. I knew
she was in it and I knew that I didn’t want to go anywhere near
it. I tried to walk in, but I felt so weak. I remember
stopping at the wall and starting to turn around. I couldn’t go
in. I just didn’t want it to be real. Mom said, “You don’t
have to go in right now.” But I knew that I did. I couldn’t
just turn around and leave. I couldn’t draw attention to
myself. I knew I HAD to just go.
I cried silently. Her hands were the
smallest most delicate things. Her eyelids were spread really far
apart. She wore the prom dress I saw her dance in. The prom
dress I sat next to her in at the dinner table. The dress that
made us all refer to her as Cinderella. She was wearing it again
now and forever. It didn’t fit her now that she lost all that
weight. She was probably 110 lbs. in high school. When she
died I bet she was 95lbs.
The next day was the service and burial.
I couldn’t handle the service. I just sat in the back with my
head on my mother’s shoulder and cried like I never had before. I
cried because of the pain on the faces of her family. I cried
because of friends who were just in shock. I cried from seeing so
many people I knew that cared. I cried because it is the saddest
thing I have ever seen. She was so young. I was so
young. I wasn’t ready to experience this. I am still
not. I had never felt so helpless in my life. I had never
needed my mother more than I did at that moment.
I had lost Alex before this day. I had
seen her die as the school year began, because she was no longer the
girl I knew in school. In fact, Alex was an awful roommate.
This time last year we were discussing room colors and set up. Oh
no, wait… Mom and I were discussing room colors and set up. Alex
wouldn’t answer her phone. Alex wouldn’t meet up with us to go
shopping. Alex wouldn’t even give her opinion when we drove all
the stuff to Ruby Tuesday’s where she worked so she could have a
say. After all the times I went there to eat just to talk
something over with her, you would think I would get an honest
opinion. But after it all, weeks after… She decided she didn’t
want to pay forty dollars for the comforter (that she had agreed to pay
for), because she didn’t like the color pink. She blamed me for
the color even though I gave her the choice of pink and orange or teal
and lime green. She said, “I really don’t care. Whatever
you want.” HA. Whatever I want. Apparently.
One time I was sitting on her bunk when I had people
over and a used tampon fell onto the floor in front of my guests.
By in front, I really mean literally at their feet. She left her
dirty clothes everywhere. She went home every weekend, leaving
shit everywhere. The clothes would just be dropped at the
door. I rearranged the room just so that her desk was in the back
corner of the room and all her dirty clothes would end up there instead
of the doorway. She would have dirty underwear lying on the
floor. Inside, openly displayed, the underwear were brown and
crusty. Sadly, it was my friend Chris who noticed this. It
was more than one pair. Once I found a cup of coffee that had
been sitting out for a week. It was crusty over with a thick
green cover of mold. We no longer wondered why the room smelled
of weird ham.
One night she brought people over. That
didn’t bother me. What bothered me was that it was a Thursday
night and I was trying to do homework. That still didn’t bother
me as much as the fact that two of the three people she brought to the
room had been in jail. They stole forty something beers from a
frat, then brought them back to the room and started drinking.
After opening a beer, sitting on the floor cross-legged, Alex asked,
“Is this Kosh with you Emily?” No. It’s not Kosh with
me. My homework went well that night.
Or there is the night she came in high. The
whole room smelled of weed. So I fabreezed her. I guess I
wasn’t all that nice anymore. She was so high she thought it was
funny.
One night right before she disappeared from
campus, I came into the room as she was straightening her hair.
Tears were streaming down her face as she sang aloud to Kelly
Clarkson’s song, “Because of You.” She asked me if I had heard
the song. She made me watch the music video. She cried the
whole time. “This is why I’ll never become like her.” Alex
felt like the song was her story. It was about the impact drugs
had on her life from her mother as she grew up. This was what she
“would never become.” Two weeks later and I ask you what was her
fate? She died from a drug overdose with her boyfriend and her
mother.
This song become more painful for me than
anyone could know. I always blared it. I always cried and
sang from the top of my lungs. It became my anthem. It
became an addiction to the pain that song brought, because every time I
felt depressed and lonely and just wanted to think of her the song was
found on repeat. Plenty of people know this song meant a lot to
me “because of you,” Alex, but I don’t think they realize how much it
impacted me. This night is one of the main reasons that I look
back at Alex so hypocritically.
As a roommate, Alex made me so mad. I remember
wondering how I was going to live with Alex for a few more
months. We weren’t friends anymore. I didn’t like her
anymore. What a pig? I thought. I saw her
change. She wasn’t fun anymore. She didn’t go to class
anymore. She just sat outside late at night and did drugs.
I never saw her. During the day she slept and I did my
work. Even when I was up late into the night I didn’t see
her. The Alex I met the year before was gone. I didn’t know
her anymore. The family never realized what she became.
No one realized how her death impacted me. She
didn’t change my perspective on drug abuse; my father had already done
that. It was her death that made me depressed. So much that
I felt I couldn’t live in that room anymore. I would lie in my
bed with her empty mattress above, the comforter sweeping off the bed,
placing me into a cave. I felt alone as I stared up into the
springs that no longer sagged from her small amount of weight. Of
course she hadn’t stepped foot into our room (let alone on campus) for
two weeks. The night she died was the day she told me she was
coming to get her stuff. She was moving out. Giving up on
school for a while. She never came. Like I said before,
Thank God I went home that weekend to my mother.
The second thing I thank God for during all of this was
that I had enough room to rearrange the beds. I felt thousands
better after debunking those beds. I no longer felt like I was in
a cave, being worn down by those heavy boards and springs that felt
like towering buildings compared to my shriveled stance. I know
this seems like the simplest thing to be thanking God for, but no one
can really understand how much this truly made an impact on my
depression. It was the first time I felt happy in that room, even
if for a moment.
I don’t believe people knew how depressed I
was. I felt like I was just being strong for everyone. I
rarely cried to anyone. I rarely cried to myself. I shed a
few tears and made myself move on. Get back to work. Hell,
I ended up strong for Ron. I didn’t realize it then. I
thought that he would be the one person that could save me. He
had the easiest access to my heart and emotions. He could have
been the person for me to cry to. He could have turned my life
around little by little. But Ron was too wrapped up in his own
insecurities to realize that I was begging for him to help me. He
didn’t see that I wanted him to sooth me. He didn’t see when I
asked him for help. He saw his own strength shrivel away along
with hopes of me recovering quickly. This was the final thing
that broke us. When Ron refused to realize my need, I became more
depressed and thrown even harder into my schoolwork. It became
harder to stick with it. All I wanted was to go home for the
holidays. Maybe going away would help???
Every time that I left for the weekend, the
drive back I would cry because I HATED my empty room. Cry because
the one place I had been praying for four years, was now the place I
dreaded the most. It still hurts me to think that I would cry
every time. I didn’t even let mom know how much I dreaded going
back. I hated it more than I can ever say. Thinking of this
almost brings tears of pain because Miami was the place I dreamed of
for so long. How could it ever turn so ugly?
My room turned into a ghost room quite
literally. No one came to see me anymore. People didn’t
know how to talk to me. They didn’t want to be in my room… and I didn’t
want to go begging people for attention either. I just needed
love. And I felt I didn’t get it anywhere. Not even
Maggie. Mags, I know you care. I know you always
have. But when not even you could just call to see how I was
holding up, made me realize that no one was coming to my rescue.
No one. And no one did.
Maggie this paragraph is for you. I know
what I just said sounds so harsh. I know that you wanted to help
me. I just don’t think that you really knew how to help me, how
to approach me. Which was my problem with most of my
friends. I know that had I called you and asked you for help, you
would have gladly lent it to me. I know that with my deepest
heart. But, I felt especially awful asking you. I just felt
that if I had to go to people I was being a showoff or have the whole
“look at me, feel sorry for me” attitude. I didn’t want
that. I knew you wouldn’t think that way of me. I just
would feel that way of myself, and I wasn’t going to be one of those
people.
You do have to approach me in just the right way or
I become extra sensitive. I know Maggie knows this, so I truly
believe that you kept this in mind during the whole thing. I also
realize that it wasn’t the easiest thing for people to talk about to
me. I had just hoped that you would understand that I needed you,
more than I could ever let on. I just thought you would
understand to break that barrier. So I felt deserted. I
hoped you would know that I just couldn’t ask you to let me talk and
cry. I hate to say this more than anything, but I felt like you
were sick of it all. I felt like you were annoyed with me being
depressed, and I didn’t know where to go without you.
I appreciated that Melissa let me cry when I
asked her to. She didn’t act like it was bogging her down and
bothering her (which was the fear I had of asking anyone to let me cry
to them). She let me cry, but she wasn’t whom I needed. And
more than anything, I hated that the people who knew me best couldn’t
come to my aide, leaving me to literally say “I am upset about Alex,
and I just need someone to talk with.” I needed someone present
to hold me. And you did.
I know that Kristie would have been there as
well, if only I asked. The thing was that I didn’t feel that
great towards Alex. Kristie knew the truth I felt. The truth that
I was NOT ready to admit. She understood I wasn’t ready to admit
to her. But I thank her, because she was there in a way that I
knew she was ready to listen without it being awkward. For some
reason Kristie could read me. She knew she wasn’t who I needed
and didn’t push me.
I have never had a time in my life where I
have felt so alone. The two people who I thought would always be
there and would understand how to help me, weren’t and didn’t. I
believe they would have. I know they didn’t really know how to
deal with it themselves. I in NO way hold it against them.
It was just a miscalculation on my part. And in their defense, I
do everything in a round about way. I just can’t begin to explain
to what lengths this depressed me further, and how much I wished I
could drop out. For anyone who knows me this should be an amazing
statement. My education is everything to me. EVERYTHING.
Then entered the third thing that I thank God
for during this ordeal. Amy became my miracle, even though she
had no idea what was in store for her. I praise her for being
thrown into that room and not letting it affect her. I thank God
for Amy. She made me strong. She was someone that would
never leave my side. I didn’t have to be in that room alone
anymore. Thank you God for Amy. Thank you Amy, for being
the perfect and wonderful human being you are. Thank you for not
treating me differently. Thank you for being a saint.
I don’t know how I would have made it through that semester without
you. You didn’t do anything extraordinary, but be my
friend. I always had someone to talk about anything and nothing,
when I felt lonely and depressed.
I still am depressed over Alex every now and
then. Once I got home to my mother, friends, and found a job, I
felt like my life was settling down. I need one good cry.
One real cry since the funeral. No more shedding of two tears and
pushing on. I just needed that one cry to finally let go.
And seven months after the funeral, I finally got that cry. Since
that night at the bonfire, I haven’t shed a tear over Alex. I
haven’t had the urge except for this night as I remember more than I
can type.
There was my year in a nutshell: experience
the loss of a friend symbolically then realistically, find myself alone
and dreading everything I ever worked for, climb into a depression that
reminded me that no one understands my backward thinking, and push
through until the night I could finally let go and cry. Thank You
God, for allowing me that final cry.
I pray this year is different. I don’t
want to fight. I want my life to become better. No more
worries. No more pain. Please God, let my mind rest.
Allow my life to become healthy. I am sorry for my sins. I
am sorry for the shit I have done. Most of all, I am sorry I do
not have a relationship with you.
I think writing this all helped me a
lot. In fact, I had no intention of writing it at all. I
was going to write about what goals I have for this year. I guess
in a way I did. But my largest goal it to become a better
person. I want to show God that I am truly thankful for the five
things (the last and most important my mother) that kept me going
through this ordeal. I have been blessed. I didn’t think
that God really went one way or the other for me. I thought
because I didn’t really show my interest or involvement in him that he
was showing indifference to me too. But Writing this makes me
realize that God did look out for me in many ways this year. God
did many little things that altered my year, making my stronger.
God did help me. God is watching out for me. God does love me.
I love my God too. I should show it more. This is the most
religious that I may have ever sounded in my life. In fact, it is.
| | |
| Today I talked to Hannah about the whole, "Not being invited even to dinner thing." Basically she thinks it has all been a misunderstanding. I am sure that it is. It still just kinda sucks, because it doesn't change the fact.
The point is that I can never fix the problem unless I buckle up and face it. So I faced it. I brought it up to one of them. I put initiative to show my problem. I am proud of myslef, because it took a lot of guts.
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| So a few girls and I went out tonight. Not really girls that I know that well, except Jenny. We met up with Shannon and we had fun. We did a considerable amount of party hopping. We really did have fun.
I didn't let my fears take over and I am not letting them get me down now, but I still had them. I thought I looked really good tonight. Slim, well dressed, not trashy. Make-up wasn't overdone. You know so much can go really far on some nights. I felt like I was just right. Yet, only once was I hit on.... by a really drunk guy who actually teaches at Mason... how sad. Oh, and I was called out as a River rat. That warmed my heart. Actually I couldn't stop laughing and kept saying, "It's such a small world!"
But the point is.... sometimes I feel really good about myself, and then I actually go out. I try to be friendly and fun. Play games, get into the party. Yet, I don't draw attention. Not even by the creepy old men at dance clubs. (Mags you got one up on me now).
Just scared I won't ever find HIM. I know it is to early to worry... but I am just saying that I don't think it is going to happen here at Miami. And that makes me even sadder, because how wonderful would it be to become a Miami Merger?
I sound obsessed. But given my background (and I mean family, not personal), then anyone can understand where this greatest fear comes from.
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