50/50 Tickets!!

Well, here we are again.  For once in a happy place! My nails are painted, my belly is full and my body is relaxed.

What shall we talk about today?

This post is going to be a little short, and maybe a little surprising to some!

I’ve got a secret to tell. What might that secret be, you ask? Well here it goes, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to overreact and freak me out. I’ll run like an ostrich and stick my face in the sand. And if I freak you out, well, I gave you the perfect way out!

Before I reveal my super secret secret, I just want to say something. I want you to remember that I am still me. I’m still the person you know, but after this maybe I’ll be a little better. I expect to be treated the same and not as an object (I don’t even know if that makes sense, but whatever, as long as it’s a gold object that’s cool). I’m not doing this for attention, it’s only for me, so haters can go hate somewhere else, cause Taylor Swift would be proud of my shake.

Alright, count it down. 5….4…3…2…1!

I’m bisexual!
I’m out!

So. Now you know! Take it how you want, but honestly, if you don’t like this, well that sucks to be you. I’m open for questions that I know y’all will have! I love you all. And I hope you love me too!

That was easier to type than I thought. Seriously though, I’ll go get some 50/50 tickets in light of this and sell for $5 a piece, just hit me up! 🙂

Dear Future Husband, Person, Thing.

Dear possible men that may enter my life,

Welcome. Please keep arms and legs inside the car at all times during the ride. You may notice that I’m a little different then your average woman. You may find yourself suffering from whiplash once you exit the rollercoaster. Sadly, I won’t be getting off. You’re welcome to continue riding at your own risk.

My thoughts are ran by the Tasmanian Devil, and he can be a little scary but also very flattering at the same time. I don’t think that you should be afraid, he won’t hurt you if I say no.

Sometimes when I read, I read out loud in a British accent because it makes me feel classy. I want to feel classy. I’m not classy.

I like jokes that no one thinks are funny. I also take these horrid jokes too far so people stop listening. I also tend to pick at your ego until it bleeds. I don’t mean to, but remember that I really enjoy those awful jokes. I promise though that way deep down I feel awful about it.

And because of my (you could call) craziness, I tend to take liking way too far.

Hey, at least I get my point across. Cause honestly, what is this friend zone bullshit? If I like you, than we’re already friends. Why does it have to be a zone? Why do we have to be stuck there?

Like, what do I have to do? Cut off the fat from my chaffing thighs? Curl my lashes? Remember to pluck my brows? Nah, fuck that. I mean, I could do the thigh thing as chaffing hurts like a bitch. But I wouldn’t be cooling the fire for you. Do I need to stop being myself? Before digging into me and my body, you take a stab at yourself.

Do I have a “You can look, but do not touch” sign on my back? Oh, I don’t? Then why are you so afraid of me?

“Don’t forget, I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

Break Time

To the manager that doesn’t understand why I breakdown so easily.

It’s not because I don’t care or that I have no interested in trying. It’s not because I purposely try to be horrible at my job.

I struggle with the constant battle of wrong and wrong in my head (yes, wrong and wrong). I try so hard every day to be a good employee for you. I know that sometimes that doesn’t show, but I promise you that I want to try.

I can’t help it when I disagree with the changes that are made. Whether it is good for the company or not, sometimes I’m just simply uncomfortable with what we have to do. I don’t like asking people things that I don’t know. I know it’s part of a sales job, but I just can’t do it. It’s a part of me that you will have to understand. I can’t change that, but i’m working on it.

All of the times that I have cried at work isn’t because of something that you have done to me personally, but because I can’t handle the pressure. That’s something I know you won’t understand. I deal with the pressure of the world and everyone else’s on top of mine. It’s a lot to handle. I know that you see me always happy and laughing, but it’s just a face that I have to put on. It’s my hiding place.

I don’t want you to treat me differently, but at the same time I wish that you would. I think differently, react differently, breathe differently. I’m not like every other person. I’m going to have horrible days, but the kind of horrible I want to take a knife to. But I’ll also have amazing days where I’ll never stop smiling. I’m sorry, but there won’t really be an in between. Maybe for a split second, but that will be the changeover.

I suffer from minor depression and major anxiety. I don’t want to blame the illness, but it definitely affects my job performance. I’m working so hard on trying to fix my life, but it is a pain I would never wish on my worst enemy.

I just hope that you listen to this, not as a cry for help, but for an equal understanding that I hope will help in the long run of the company.

Not everyone can do what you ask of them, because they may be dealing with something way deeper than you would’ve thought.

You are amazing people, and I am so grateful to have this job as a life opportunity, but you need to take a step back, as you’re pushing way too much, and you may just end up pushing me over the edge.

80 Reasons

These are 80 thoughts that popped in my head when I started thinking. Every day these thoughts appear. It’s not okay. But I’ll be okay.

  1. Bitch
  2. I’m not okay
  3. I don’t want to be here
  4. Lock me up
  5. Undeserving
  6. Help me
  7. I’m not pretty
  8. Beautiful
  9. Not funny
  10. You’re a failure
  11. Do I look okay?
  12. Disgusting
  13. It’s not hard, just act normal.
  14. No one wants you here
  15. Am I pretty enough?
  16. Ridiculous
  17. Incapable of love
  18. Don’t be so pathetic
  19. Deserving
  20. Leave me alone
  21. Your self sucks
  22. Caring
  23. Waste of space
  24. FAT
  25. He hates you
  26. Don’t be so sad
  27. A joke
  28. You suck
  29. Lifeless
  30. Leave me alone
  31. Deserving
  32. Garbage
  33. You have no friends
  34. What’s the point?
  35. Am I good enough?
  36. Ugly
  37. Be different
  38. Why do you bother?
  39. Bad at your job
  40. Save me
  41. Everyone is looking at you
  42. Your friends are fake
  43. Don’t be fooled by the attention
  44. Smart
  45. Useless
  46. Life is easy
  47. You’re just doing it for attention
  48. Good enough
  49. Pointless
  50. No wonder no one loves you
  51. Loving
  52. Waste of time
  53. Stop looking at me
  54. Everybody hates you
  55. I’m not good enough
  56. You don’t deserve happiness
  57. People hate you
  58. Kind
  59. Stupid
  60. Ask me if I’m okay
  61. Bad at being human
  62. Worth it
  63. You’re a pity to society
  64. You’re a burden to life
  65. Liar
  66. What makes you special?
  67. I’m not good enough
  68. People don’t love you
  69. Stop smiling
  70. You’re so stupid
  71. You aren’t special
  72. You deserve to be sick
  73. Why love yourself?
  74. Life is better without you
  75. Amazing
  76. What makes you better than them?
  77. This is why people leave you
  78. This is why your family doesn’t want to be around you
  79. You are nothing
  80. It’s okay not to be okay

To You

Dear friend,

“I am writing you this letter to explain what is going on before, during, and after I text you. I text many people throughout the day and for a variety of reasons. But the texts I send to you are often different.

My texts to you are usually sent in desperation when my depression is clouding my thoughts or in a panic when anxiety is taking control of my mind.

My texts to you are sent at all times of the day — especially late at night when my demons are at their worst for me or after I have spent a long day fighting my own mind and finally break from the pressure.

My texts to you are my way of crying out for help.

My texts to you are me screaming out my pain silently through my fingertips and onto my phone since I can’t scream it out loud.

My texts to you are my truth.

You don’t know this, but more often than not, I write a text and then delete it. Or I write a text and it just sits there for hours as a draft, and then I erase it. Sometimes doing this is enough to calm me down and give me some relief.

So when you do receive one of my more erratic texts, please know it is sent because I am hurting so badly that I just need to tell somebody about it. The act of hitting send is like purging the thoughts from my mind and for some reason, it usually helps.

But sometimes after I send you one text, I am still in the middle of a panic attack. Or I am still weeping uncontrollably. So I text you again and again — trying to find some peace.

After I text you and the dust has settled, I get embarrassed that I let down my wall and I unveiled the parts of me that aren’t polished and aren’t very pretty. So then I go to the other extreme and text apologies and positive words to make up for any negative.

And I feel guilty for leaning on you once again. Sometimes I look back and don’t even remember the words I sent you. Yet there they are in front of me — a visual reminder of the battle I just fought.

You see, I have “high-functioning” mental illness. To the outside world, I appear to be just fine. I can get up, go to work,  and laugh with my friends. Inside, however, I am struggling just to make it through each day without drowning. I get frustrated because I want to be the girl everybody else sees, not the girl I feel within me. I still have trouble accepting this is my life, even though I have dealt with varying degrees of mental illness since childhood. I should be used to it by now. But then again, one can and should never have to get used to something like this.

And part of the reason why I have lasted this long is due to your friendship, support and the texts I send to you.

When we first met, you were only introduced to the person I let everybody get to know. That person is very real, but incomplete. But for some reason I connected with you and felt safe to open up about my other side. I wonder if you regret getting to know that other side. She can be a handful — trust me, I live with her.

But that other side has also given me blessings I wouldn’t trade. Kindness, compassion and creativity. And friendships — true, meaningful friendships.

And because I consider you to be a true friend, I owe you a sincere apology.1 The world does not revolve around me, yet I know I have been very selfish. I want to be a good friend. I want to hear about your life — good and bad. I care about you, too. I am stuck in my head so much of the time that it consumes me. But friendship is a two-way street, and I have provided much more traffic on my side.

I feel like it isn’t fair that I text you when I’m struggling.

I worry it isn’t fair to ask anybody to be the recipient of the thoughts in my head.

I feel like it isn’t fair that I am not the friend you signed up for.

I worry it just isn’t fair…and I am sorry.

I am also very thankful. I know you have a very busy life. You have a stressful job, a family, friends and much more. The fact you still make time to listen and encourage me speaks to your character, loyalty and kindness. You’ve seen me at my best — fun, strong and successful. But you also accept me at my worst — sad, weak and broken. You never make me feel bad for reaching out for help or judge me for texts that invade your phone.

I’m sure there are many times when the texts come in and you must shake your head and think to yourself, Here we go again. Or you are so very busy with life that you don’t even have time to read them. But yet, you keep any annoyance or frustration to yourself and make to time to check in with me when you can.

And those words of encouragement and the knowledge you care have helped me more than you’ll even know. I used to fear my texts would push you too far and you would decide that being my friend isn’t worth it. But you once told me you weren’t going anywhere — and you haven’t. You haven’t given up on me.

And because of that, I know that I cannot give up on myself either.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

You know who

This can be found on TheMighty.com

Stone Cold

What was my day like yesterday?

Mind shattering.
Heart breaking.
I mentally broke down.

I wanted it all to end. I wanted the light to go out. I was so done with the stress and the frustration. Does that make me weak? Maybe. Did I end it? No. But it took every inch of my strength not to. I reached out for help as I set myself into isolation. I wanted the waves of the ocean to wash me away, but my friend pulled me back.

I kept telling her that I can’t do this anymore. And that is still true a day later. Did I harm myself? No. But who knows where my mind will drift off to in a day, or week, or month?

I’ve set myself into isolation again typing this…

No one at work wonders about me. They don’t bother to wonder if I’m hurting inside as I sit quietly at the counter. My smile hides a truth about me. I don’t think I’ll tell them though. They’ll think it’s for attention. Which it isn’t, I don’t think. My mind tells me it’s not, but it lies to me all of the time. Who’s to say it won’t lie to me again?

I failed the class again. I failed myself, my friends, my family, but most importantly I failed my life. What the hell am I going to do now? I can’t redo it for the third time. That’s just pathetic. I don’t think I can put myself through that stress and energy again. It’s too much. I could barely handle two classes, why would one be any different?

God, I wish these meds would start working. I feel like they are only making me more insane. But again, no one knows that.

Just lock me up. I’m afraid of my potential. I think it’s the only way I can be saved from the world.


To the one who doesn’t listen.
To the one that doesn’t care.
To the one that doesn’t have time
And to all that don’t believe,

I carry the world on my heart. I carry it on my entire body. The weight is impossible to bare. But where are you? You’re covering your eyes, your ears and hiding the clocks.

I’m here. Stuck like glue. But you wipe me away with your burning hands. It hurts. You hurt me.
You hurt me when you only respond with three letters. When you don’t understand that I don’t want to hear about your rewards of love. When knowing you for so long is a bigger burden than letting you go. You don’t understand how much I avoid you because I can’t handle the torture.
But so deep inside, I love you entirely.