Expendable

It’s ridiculous how much I love my boyfriend, Bobby. And though it goes against everything I believe in, he is my happiness, my joy, my smile, my laughter, my best friend, the love of my life, and just my everything. He makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. But then again, he could make me extremely miserable. Let me explain.
I’ve had a rough go of it. My life has never been easy. One of the things I’ve had to endure is people walking so easily out of my life. I’m used to being the expendable person in everybody’s life, so now I expect it from everyone that crosses my path.
The first time Bobby told me he loved me, I immediately burst into tears and shook my head violently while repeating the words, “No! No you don’t!” I had so many emotions bouncing around in my brain: excitement, anger, happiness, frustration, but the most overwhelming was the feeling of fear. I drove myself insane crowding my mind with thoughts of him leaving my life already. I just don’t expect much out of anyone anymore. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not just anyone. He’s one in [insert world population here]. But I didn’t want to allow myself be loved by the most amazing guy in the world to me only to feel stupid in the end should he decide to leave. My whole world would come crashing down and I’d only have myself to blame.
The best feeling in the world is being loved by Bobby. He looks at me like I’m the best thing in the entire world. I always feel him smiling in the middle of a kiss like he’s never been happier doing anything else. He turns the music up in his truck and lightly touches my chin as he sings all of his favorite country songs to me. He holds my hand everywhere we go like he’s actually proud that I’m his girl. When he holds me, he never wants to let me go; every time I try to get up, he pulls me back and holds me tighter. He texts me every morning when he gets to work and calls me every night before he goes to sleep.  He notices the tiniest things like me switching the side of the part in my hair. He always gets excited when he talks about each new step he wants to take with me: moving in together, getting married, having children, growing old together. He’s my superman. I can call him at any time for any reason and he’ll rush to my house to comfort me with no questions asked. Goodness, I feel like I’m the luckiest girl to ever walk this earth. Being loved by Bobby is heaven.
Still, I’m in a battle with my own mind. I always ask myself how and why I’m so lucky. Then my mind automatically goes to a dark place where I start realizing that Bobby is my everything. And though he doesn’t want to ever leave me, if something ever happens that I lose him, I’ll lose everything. I can go from being incredibly happy one second to drowning in misery the next and that… THAT is what terrifies me the most. Losing everything. My everything. And I’ll go back to the feeling of February 27th when I tried to end my pain. But I handed him the gun. He can pull the trigger whenever he wants, but I gave him that control. Fuck…

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A Craving For Death

This is it. Adulthood. The very thing I craved more than anything as a child. I wanted nothing more than to grow out of my carefree, innocent,  naive little mind and venture into what I thought would be a life of freedom and constant happiness. God, I was so freaking off, it’s not even funny.
I spent most of my “childhood” wishing I was older. I thought I had it so bad. Because this was my life:
Getting transferred to and from my mom and and my dad’s house, living two separate lives. I never got to choose where I was going. I didn’t even know what was going on. All I know is that someone was always upset. Especially during the holidays. My dad always got the first choice and it was always to keep me away from my mom. I always wanted to be with her. I was never too fond of my dad. And looking back on how treated me, he wasn’t as fond of me as he pretended he was. He just wanted someone to have authority over. And in this case, he had authority over both my mom and I. He’d kidnap me, but we couldn’t call it that. That was my life, though. Year after year I would dread every single special occasion other kids got the privilege of looking forward to and enjoying. Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday;  I fucking hated all of them because I knew he would take me away from my mom despite the fact that I screamed and cried about it. Every single year.
I just wanted to be older, you know? I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know why other kids had a mom and a dad in the same house and I didnt. I hated my dad, though. I wanted out. My mom always told me that when I was 15, I could make a choice of whether I wanted to go over to my dad’s house or not. So I waited for that age.

It was my 15th birthday. I suffered through his bullshit for so many years and that day finally arrived. I was supposed to spend my birthday with my mom. Dad tried calling repeatedly and left horrible voicemails, but I ignored them. I didn’t want the drama. But this is when everything made a turn for the worst. I heard a long, loud car horn coming from outside my house. He was there. So I grabbed my things and got in the car. Instead of a happy birthday or even a simple “hi,” I was greeted with “I don’t know why you have that damn phone if you’re not gonna answer it.” I sat there and bit my tongue. Again, I didn’t want drama, but I also didn’t wanna be with him. He was doing it again! Kidnapping me. So I said, “Dad, I don’t wanna see you anymore.” He chuckled and kept driving. So I repeated myself, louder this time. And this time, he stopped his car on the side of the street and said “Oh you don’t wanna see me anymore? You think you’re some bad bitch now that you’re 15? Well let me tell you something. I don’t care. Don’t see me anymore. You’re not shit. You’re not as bad as you think you are.” I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry hysterically. This is what I wanted. I prepared myself for this moment. But I guess I never prepared for his response. Because never, in a million years, did I expect him to basically tell me I’m worthless and meant nothing to him. So all I managed to get out was a chuckle as well. Then his head jerked closer in my direction. I turned and looked at him and he was going to hit me. I saw it. Unfortunately,  I knew that look. So I got out of the car and ran back home. This was the event that started a whole snowball effect of bullshit.
After this,
I was sexually harassed by someone who was supposed to be my friend.
World War 3 started with my family and I started dreading holidays again.
I was diagnosed with depression and had to take medicine for it.
I became anorexic on and off.
I got kicked out of my house.
I found out I had more sicknesses and was put on even more medicine.
I went to college and got raped by the guy’s dorm advisor.
I developed a horrible cutting problem.
I got diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. More medicine. Yay.
I completely lost my faith in any sort of God and then lost my best friend.
I overdosed and had to stay the night in ICU and broke my mother’s heart.
My dad pretended like he cared after my overdose and then made it clear that I was still worthless to him.
My brother told me I was fucked in the head and that I should cut him out of my life because he wanted nothing to do with me anymore.
I was driven to withdrawing from school and stop doing what I love.
I found out that all of my sicknesses included scoliosis, a gallstone, gallbladder dysfunction, liver dysfuncton, dysmenorrhea, menorrhagia,  myofascial pain syndrome, tinnitus, severe depression and anxiety, manic depression, insomnia, hypoglycemia, and I’m probably missing some.
I have to take medication daily just to wake up and have the ability to function properly.
At the age of 19, I truly, genuinely….want my life to end.

But the worst part about all this is probably the fact that I actually thought I wanted to grow up. Is this what adulthood is? Hating yourself, waking up tired and in pain, walking around with mutilated skin, taking medication, living with and being haunted by the memories of a traumatic past only to wake up and repeat the cycle? If so, I want out. If this is what me being an adult means, I’m so over it.

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Bobby

It’s crazy to think that years ago, I saw you for the first time and dropped everything: my jaw, my sense, my sanity, you know where I’m getting with this. Let me explain. My jaw dropped, obviously, because I thought you were impeccable. You were simply walking by and I just stood and marinated in all the perfection that moved flawlessly past me. I dropped my sense because, well, it’s just not very sensible to view someone as an unflawed human being knowing absolutely nothing about them. My sanity was dropped alongside my sense when I repeatedly slapped the shoulder of one of my friends and proceeded to make comments about how you were mine, and I’d marry you one day and have your babies. Of course, I was joking.
Well, half joking. Because the first time I saw you smile… the first time I heard you laugh…the first time you spoke to me… I completely lost it. I still knew very little about you, but as opposed to nothing, that’s a step up. Here’s the facts I had gathered about you in my mind:

1. You were absolutely stunning.
2. Your smile could brighten my day in a heartbeat.
3. (On the subject of heartbeats), you made mine go crazy every time you spoke to me. Even if it was a simple “hey.”
4. Your laugh was the cutest thing I’d ever heard in my entire life.
5. I had a huge crush on you.

Time progressed. You had a few relationships, I had a few relationships, and life got a little harder aside from that.
No one knew I was struggling. I was fighting my battles in silence, but still, every time you’d smile at me or even say hi, I could smile and actually mean it. You never knew this, but I’d look forward to seeing you every chance I got. Even after a couple of years went by, you could completely turn my day around with absolutely no effort. But honestly, I was intimidated by you. My best friends would urge me to just tell you how I felt, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Aside from the fact that you were taken, I didn’t feel like I was good enough for you.
Now let’s fast forward a little more. On September 8th, when you messaged me on Facebook, I went crazy. I was outside with my friends at school and I was pretty much screaming to the heavens that Bobby messaged me. (Sounds creepy, I know. Oops) Then when you told me you liked me, I swear what was left of my heart almost burst through my chest. And shortly after that conversation, for the first time in my life, I actually got to meet you.
I loved everything about our conversations. I loved the fact that we could just talk about absolutely nothing and just be content in each other’s presence. I loved how little time it took for us to care so much about each other. I loved every hug, our first kiss, the first time you held my hand, the first time you saw my scars and kissed them. And after a short time, I knew I loved you. I thought you were flawless the first time I saw you, but after actually meeting you and getting to know you better, I realize that’s an understatement.
Everything about you is absolutely amazing. I’ve said that before and I’ll say it a million more times. You are incredible. Coming into this relationship, I warned you about my depression and everything else mentally and physically wrong with me, I warned you about my scars, I warned you about the fact that I cry more than I smile, I warned you that you wouldn’t be happy with me, I warned you that I was suicidal and could, at any moment, just disappear. You told me you’d be right there with me through my depression. You kissed my scars and told me they were beautiful because they’re a part of me. You told me that from that moment on, I’d be smiling more and crying less. You told me I had already made you happier than you’ve been in a long time. And oh man, I cried so hard when you responded about me being suicidal. You told me whether it was 5 days, 5 months, or 5 years, you just wanted to spend every last moment with me. I know it hurt you to say that. I heard it. But you knew you couldn’t stop me if I were to attempt and succeed in doing so. But in that comment, I also heard truth. Just like I do every time you tell me you love me. I love when you say it. You stop, stare at me for a while, sometimes move my hair away from my face or just rub my face with the back of your hand, blink twice, and say in the softest voice, “I love you, Alex.” And it’s crazy to hear so much emotion come from 4 little words. 4 little words that have made such a big impact on me.
The fact that you’re even my boyfriend is still beyond my belief. You mean the world to me. And though I may not have much to offer, I love you with every last ounce of that. Nothing will ever change that. You make me feel so secure, cared for, loved, content, etc. And most of all, now I actually feel like I’m actually worth something. Not only because you make me feel that way, but because I made the most overall amazing guy on earth fall in love with me. And I can’t imagine any better feeling in the world than the feeling of being loved by you. ❤

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Joy Deceases

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I wish my mind didn’t work the way that it does. Of course, sometimes it can be a good thing: hoping for absolutely nothing and awaiting the worst so I won’t have the feeling of stupidity above all my disappointment. But, on the other hand, it can be a horrible thing; horrible and unmanageable once it becomes a routine every time I begin to feel even the slightest bit of happiness. Because every time I have something great in my life, I automatically expect it to turn out negatively. No matter how seemingly perfect something is, I question it.

“Why?”
Then “why?” turns into, “how?”
And “how?” turns into, “for how long?”

As if every bit of happiness I acquire is absolutely fated to have an expiration date.

Now, I can sit here all day until I’m blue in the face and tell stories about how many people have walked out of my life or screwed me over when they made [empty] promises against it. I can try to explain the brokenness I’ve felt over circumstances and situations that pushed me so much closer to the edge than I already was. I can go on and on forever about why I feel like my entire life has been a huge snowball effect of bullshit, deceit, and some more bullshit, but this isn’t the blame game. Ultimately, it comes down to me realizing that no one else’s mistakes should have the ability to influence my decision on how I’m going to feel about something.

But how can I just completely disregard the damage everyone else has left? How can I sit back, smile, and pretend that I’m not expecting the same thing to happen over and over again? I’ve forgiven every single person, but I’ve never forgotten, nor will I ever forget, how each one made me feel. And I think that’s what screwed me up the most.

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He said.

This is probably the last time I’ll ever write about my ex, but I was just thinking about some things earlier today. He was always so excited to be around me. He would walk around showing his friends pictures of me or showing them videos of me singing; just anything to show off his girlfriend. He was proud to be with me. And I loved that. He was never ashamed of me. He said he’d ALWAYS love me no matter what happened.
Hmm… oh yeah? Well I distinctly remember that after getting my first tattoo, he flipped a shit and started yelling at me about how my body is a temple, blah blah blah, I didn’t understand how much hell he was gonna get from his family and friends for me having a tattoo, blah blah blah. An inch and a half long tattoo on my inner wrist was the equivalent of murder to him. Then after that, everything went downhill. Because I got. one. tattoo.
9 tattoos and 9 piercings later, his parents still adore me and talk to me when they get a chance. His friends still love me. He doesn’t even act like I exist. Haha, I should be really sad about it. I am sometimes. He was my best friend for 5 years. But it’s completely his loss. Even more so because some of his friends think he’s a huge dick for being such a jerk to me. So if he loses friends for being a jerk, good.
Another thing I was thinking about was our cute little fights. You know what I’m talking about. Those “I love you,” “I love you more” fights that went on forever. I think I won.

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Smile

Smiles are crazy. They can have multiple uses. 
You can smile at people walking by in public. You can smile when you read a funny text. You can smile sarcastically during an argument when something completely idiotic was said. You can smile just because you’re happy. You can smile to hide other emotions. 
It’s very easy to smile, but it’s hard to make it mean something sometimes. That’s the thing, though, sometimes you might not know why someone is smiling. It can be out of pure happiness, sarcasm, or just a front to cover up a broken soul. The funny thing is, it’s hard to tell. 
So smile. Smile at anyone you can anytime you get the chance. Smile at the girl who’s hiding suicidal thoughts behind a smile that you wouldn’t have ever been able to tell was fake. Smile at the woman casually buying groceries for her family that’s falling apart behind closed doors. Smile at the homeless man who’s smiling at you, waiting for even the slightest bit of hope found within the simple smile of another human being. Smile at the seemingly happy man, struggling to provide for his family. Smile, and mean it. Because you never know what’s behind anyone else’s smile but your own.

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self harm scar excuses. FUNNY’S

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Here are a few serious and a few funny excuses for having self harm scars. Most I have tried and had some funny reactions. ( this is meant as a joke before anyone sends any crappy messages back).  My body looks like a patch work quilt so I think I have earned the right to post this and lol at my own scars because if I don’t lol I will end up upset and hurt by how people react.

1. It sucks having parents who are sadists.
2.  my boyfriend and I accidentally went overboard during our last S & M session.
3. I moon light as a stunt-woman who dives through glass windows.

4. all the orange dye didn’t come off my arms, and my husband confused me with the carrots for our salad. roll your eyes I keep telling him if he doesn’t get his glasses fixed soon…

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