Inspiration in Strange Places: My Story

Hey everyone! I’m just writing this, as kind of an apology. But it is also a normal post for me.

Well, two days ago I got an assignment for school, it was to write an allegory. I didn’t have a length requirement, but I did have some serious writer’s block. Most people tell me to turn off all distractions, and get down to business. That doesn’t really work with how my brain works, I have to have something going all the time. However, one of the shows I was watching caused me to have a sudden burst of inspiration.

Now because I think it is interesting, I’m going to post my allegory on this post:

In a small country village in the mountains, an elder sat down with her grandkids to tell them a story. She told them to sit still and be quiet. “Now I’m going to tell you a little story about when I was around your age.”

This village used to be under a tyrant. Originally, before Lord Kaza came here, we were all unique, and we all had our own unique markings, something that we are born with. Our markings show something special about us, such as a skill or special ability. It also holds the key to our personalities. As you kids should know by now.  Kaza had a very special mark, one that showed that he was a great leader.  

In about a year after he came to rule, the rest of us noticed that his marking has changed, it was no longer a sign of power, but, a sign of equality. It was then that our fate was sealed. He began holding regular conferences and speeches, all about one thing; equality. Not even a few months later, he started decreeing his ideas, to produce equality. Such as playing a recording of him talking about equality, and how with everyone being different causes conflict to arise. That our marks are evil, that the only way to be truly happy was to get rid of them, and in their place, the equal sign.  Anyone who did not follow these rules were considered miscreants, and forced to listen to only his voice, in a small room, unable to get out.

It took time, but eventually we, the townsfolk, one at a time we allowed him to use an ancient artifact that contains magic to remove our markings and replace them with the equality symbol. Now everyone who removed their marks has to be immersed in his melodic, hypnotising voice, telling us to forget about our marks. To forget who we are, to become one and the same, that we are better off without our differences. No one is better than the anyone else. This goes on for a long time, until one day, six friends come into town.

The day that Bridgitte, Elise, Brittany, Sakura, Tsubaki and Hinata showed up, was the day that would change our fate. When they were sitting at our cafe, choking down the terrible muffins, discussing the reason why they were here. They didn’t know what was going on here that they needed to help with, after all, to outsiders this town looked like the happiest place on earth. The villagers didn’t understand how they were friends, they were so different from each other, yet their friendship couldn’t be stronger.

It made us begin to wonder, wondering about why we strived for equality, when we are no closer than we were when we didn’t know each other.  Lord Kaza didn’t like that they were different and still close friends; he wanted everyone to be the same. Afraid of a possible revolution against him, he lured the six into a trap at the Vault of Marks; the place he stored all of our marks, our identities.  He took their marks by force, and then locked them in a cell, to prevent them from being able to get their marks back. Within the cell, he played his recordings, over and over. Slowly but surely, their behavior began changing, they became less like themselves.

They began discussing amongst themselves how they were going to get out of their and get their marks back. They came to the conclusion that the only way they were going to do that was to have one of them fake being converted, in order to make it less obvious that they planted a spy. Elise agreed to spy, because she was the one who had liked the town to begin with and was peace loving, therefore least likely to draw attention to herself.  Lord Kaza escorted Elise to his mansion, the only expensive building in entire town; also the place where all of the newcomers must stay until their house is built.

One evening, when the butler was delivering a glass of wine for Lord Kaza he tripped over a small rug and spilled the wine all over his boss. Elise noticed that his equality symbol was fading, the wine had washed it off, revealing his original mark! Astonished, Elise tried to find a way to tell her friends without letting him know that she knew. She would have to wait until the next day, when she could see them again. In the meantime one of the other villagers began questioning Lord Kaza, so he was placed with the other five girls, to become re-immersed with the ways of equality.

The next day, when Elise was able to walk around town, she saw that her friends had also pretended to accept it. She immediately ran over and threw a glass of water on Lord Kaza, making his equality mark disappear.  One by one, gasps were heard in the crowd, people began protesting; before finally one of the villagers cried out asking what is going on. Why did we have to give up our marks, while you didn’t?

This time, Lord Kaza  was backpedaling, trying to come up with excuses as to why he did what he did. Ending up yelling at them telling them that he is better than them, and he is the one who brought peace and harmony. At that time, the other villagers decided that they didn’t need him to rule over them. They chased him out of town before running to the Vault of Marks and releasing their personalities in the form of their marks. Deciding that they want to live with their differences, and get to know each other, as themselves, and become friends, as opposed to having someone constantly tell you how things should be, and what is happiness. You have to find that out for yourself.

“So kids, can you figure out what this story means?”

This story means that it is ok to be yourself, and that equality isn’t the answer to conflicts. In this, equality makes everyone the same, with no one better than someone else at something, no one can improve themselves. The team is only as strong as its weakest link, if everyone is the same, that means there is no one who is stronger than the weakest link.  Without someone strongest than the weakest link, there is no way for the weakest to become stronger.

Patience: An Anonymous Blogger Lesson

Sometime within this last week, I decided to make a second attempt at something I have been wanting to do for a couple years at least. But I have one problem, and it has nothing to do with WHAT I want to do, it has to do with ME. The thing is, if I can’t learn something practically overnight, I get depressed and my self-confidence goes down. After all, everyone else that I know that can do the things I try to do (and normally think I fail at), can do them practically perfectly. What I forget: They have spent the majority of their life getting to where they are, most of them started when they were very young. They have put countless hours of practice into perfecting their skills. So there is no way that I can do that in two or three days, no matter how fast of a learner I am. Like with school for instance, you can “learn” a whole lot in one day, but how much of that can you do perfectly, how many questions do you get wrong in the meantime. To learn something isn’t to just magically be able to do it one day, it’s the art of being able to have patience, and understand that you WILL make mistakes, nobody's perfect, even professionals have made mistakes.

Another example, at least with me, is drawing, I have always loved to draw, and I would think I was great at it until I saw someone else’s picture, then I would just shut down and go pout. Even now I still sometimes do that, but that is a topic for another post, another day.

Back to my original thought.

I have always wanted to play guitar, so I had recently picked up my guitar that I’ve had for a few years and found an App that I thought would be able to help me. After using the app for a while I realized that there is a set amount of time that you have to be able to progress through the lessons each day, that you can’t just blow through them all unless you buy a premium account. I was frustrated at that, because I wanted to learn it all overnight, I wanted to become a perfect guitar playing in only a couple of days. I was impatient. That night I had gone to bed, when I woke up the next day, I had more time allowance on the app. When I picked up my guitar, my skills had increased a little bit. Taking a break from learning allows your brain time to process and store all the information and techniques you have learned during the course of the day.

If you just cram everything in in a short amount of time, you won’t retain anything, unless of course you are like a computer that can remember anything you put into it.

I personally think I learned at least a little bit about what patience is, and WHY we need to learn it. Patience is two things, patience is an art form, and patience is a what allows potential to become reality, everyone has potential, but only a few make their potential their reality. If you try to take a shortcut, you’ll be cut short. That’s why sometimes things that are made in a factory by the thousands, have lower quality than those things that are handcrafted and take hours to complete.

You can’t rush learning, and you can’t rush life.

Signed,

Anonymous

Cosplay, the Tokyo in Tulsa Adventure: My Story

Well, let’s just say, Tokyo in Tulsa is my second favorite time of year, only beat by Christmas (no, it has nothing to do with any possible presents I may receive.) It’s a time of cosplay, (for those who don’t know, you dress up in costume as your favorite character from movies, games, anime, comics, you name it, someone has probably cosplayed as it.) friends, fan-girling and DRAMA. Not just any drama, cosplay drama, personal drama, and just plain petty drama. (Or is all drama kind of petty?)

The weekend started off pretty fun, Friday, July 17th, one day before my birthday, we get to Tokyo in Tulsa and we hurry up, then get to wait in line for 2+ hours. Made a few friends, though it was short lived. That day I was cosplaying as my own character in a game I have yet to play, it was fun because there was nothing that dictated what I had to look like. So therefore I got to be creative. After we all got our passes, I immediately went to the Vendor Hall to look around and see what all I could get. The first day I didn’t really get much of anything, since I did spend most of it running around just looking at all of the other cosplays, and getting all sorts of pictures (I will make a post consisting of said pictures, for those who are interested.)

Saturday comes along, and BAM! Here comes all the drama, its the big day! The day I can show off the cosplay my mom and I, and her ex boyfriend, and my best friend, and my aunt all worked on for who knows how long. The cosplay that was the product of all of our blood, sweat and tears (no really, literal blood, sweat and tears… lots of sweat and lots of tears.) I was Annie from League of Legends, and my moms now Ex boyfriend was supposed to be a giant bear named Tibbers.

We make it to the pre judging, and that is when the problems began. The guy that was supposed to be in this big cosplay was getting cold feet, scared he might lose his balance. The rest of the day, I was running around looking at everything with my best friend.

By the time the cosplay contest came around, I wasn’t having the best day I could have, I was worried that the cosplay contest might  be a complete disaster. We are getting all lined up back stage and we begin putting the costume on the guy that was supposed to be Tibbers, and he starts freaking out and backs down, despite the fact that we had gone over this over and over. So last minute, only 30 minutes or so until we get to go on stage, we have to change the cosplay to fit my best friend, who is six (6) inches shorter than the original. On top of that, the cosplay was falling apart, and quite frankly it wasn’t going well at all.

We manage to get the bear put together on my best friend and then it was our turn, I skipped out on stage, with Tibbers close (ish) behind. We had the LOUDEST reaction out of any of the cosplays that was in the contest. In the end though, we didn’t win, we didn’t even get mentioned. However, it was still a ton of fun!

Just a little update on me! Your loyal blogger!

Signed,

Anonymous

Selfishness

I know most of you reading this don’t see yourself as being a selfish person, most of us don’t actually. We like to believe that we are giving and are not self-centered. However, have you ever felt like as kids your parent(s) was centering everything you did together toward what someone else wanted? Well my mom was doing that today, and I was thinking how can she and her boyfriend be so selfish as to not do something I want to do, until I noticed, that I was being selfish for expecting them to do whatever I wanted to do.

Selfishness can show up in the most irritating places, and typically it slaps us in the face when we least expect it to. Like for me, it was today. How many more times have I been disappointed because they did something THEY wanted to do, and I wasn’t involved? Well, they do that a lot, but they are adults and I’m a kid, I don’t HAVE to do everything they do. In fact I know they need time on their own, away from me. Even though I think everything should be focused around me. Even though it doesn’t, what I want isn’t MORE important than what THEY want, but it also isn’t NOT important. Sometimes I feel as though they don’t see it as important, even though I know they know it is.

Sometimes I just have to be patient and wait my turn to get my way.

Moral of the story is if you expect others to do what you want to do, you’re going to have to do something they want to do. Otherwise you are being selfish.

Signed,

Anonymous

A Short Backstory - My Story

I know I’ve said in previous “My Story” posts that I have dealt with bullying, as well as addictions in the past. However one thing that many do not know is, I’m also in a certain 20% of the female population. Despite that, I refuse to be seen as either a statistic or as a victim. I WAS a victim, but currently, I believe I am an overcomer.

Now, to delve a little deeper into my childhood.

I was six years old when it first happened. I was on my own in my clubhouse in my grandparents backyard. My cousin came up to join me, at the time, he and I were really close. That was when the first incident occurred, the time I was first molested. It didn’t really affect me that much at the time, because I didn’t understand what happened. There were several incidents over the years, but it stopped when he turned eighteen (18). It had gone on for about three and a half years. Now I’m almost an adult, I won’t say I’ve forgiven him, I won’t say that I’ve moved on, and I won’t say that I am OK. There are feelings that one can only understand by going through that.

In the rest of this post, I will attempt to describe my journey. What had happened didn’t really sink in right away, actually I didn’t understand all of it until I was in highschool. I guess that it may have been a measure of self-preservation. Once it did hit, it was much much harder to deal with, along with understanding what happened, came all of the emotions. It had taken me about eleven years to be able to tell someone about it.

The couple years after I understood what happened I spent trying to forget. I was having one of the hardest battles with myself that I had ever dealt with. Even with the  years of bullying. It’s one thing to be bullied and to be treated like you are worthless by someone you aren’t related to, it is so much harder to cope after having someone that you are related to, and whom you trusted treat you like that. What my cousin did bears no physical scars, but the emotional scars are there forever. He fractured my self-esteem, killed my trust; even among family, above all that, he caused me to question myself.  

After all that, I was always wondering; wondering if I was only worth a good time, that someone could easily just put a price on me. Wondering if I was even worth love at all. To this day I still wonder about that, wondering why anyone could love, or even deal with a broken, scared girl like me.

By the time I had told my family about it, that made it harder. Even though over the years I was able to contain my thoughts, and hide it for so long, once it was out in the open I found it much harder to control my anger, distrust and hurt toward him. The majority of my family at the time didn’t, and some still don’t, understand that it will take a while, even longer than I have already dealt with it to be able to forgive him. Now that everyone knows, it seems like they expect me to just move on, that is easier said than done.

My story isn’t out here because I want people to feel sorry for me, it’s not there so I can get attention, It’s here for people to see that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I will be OK, I will eventually move on, I will eventually forgive him. I will NOT however forget. There are days that I won’t think about it, that it doesn’t bother me and that I almost don’t remember it. Then there are days that it haunts me, those nights where I can’t think of anything else, where all I can do is remember the many days I spent having fun, worry-free.

I will say one thing, that the saying “ignorance is bliss” is true.

Signed,

Anonymous

Who are We?

"Who am I?" don't we all ask that question at some point or another? Well, I have an answer

to who we all are; just maybe not the answer you are looking for.

We are who we make ourselves, our past doesn't define us; nor do other people, the only one

who can define us is, well; us. Just because your past isn't the best, and you were abused and mistreated doesn't give an excuse for you to be all "poor me". If you don't think you can do something, try! You'll never know if you don't try.

If you have friends that are trying to help by just listening, you are not wasting their time by talking to

them, if they aren't willing to listen, they are not true friends. All I am saying in this post you are, who you allow yourself to be. If all you allow is the negative thoughts, or negative memories, or negative past rule you, all you will ever think is that you are worthless, and not friend worthy, but you are not worthless, and everyone deserves a friend. Never believe anything else,no matter how much it has been driven into your head, don't believe it.

Do not allow yourself to stay downtrodden, and wallow in your self-pity, stop and think. Think about how you feel now, do you like how you are, do you like the current you? Most of us don't, I'm only just beginning to allow myself to believe I'm beautiful, and worth something. Begin to allow yourself to believe your friends when they tell you you are OK, that you are NOT worthless.

Signed,

Anonymous

Words DO Hurt!

I'm sure everyone has heard the phrase "Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words

will never hurt you". Well most of us know that is not true, words can hurt, and sometimes

can hurt more than "sticks and stones". Physical wounds can heal, but emotional wounds take

so much longer, and usually cannot heal without help from family, friend even a therapist.

For an example I'm going to use some of my personal experiences to show you what happens

when people use words instead of fists when bullying. Sometimes even physical bullying can

leave emotional scars, scars deeper than just the bruises.

Occasionally some bullies in my class during elementary school, would push me around and make fun of me, not for any reason in particular, but almost like it was a sport. What they didn't know is that it hurt me more when they called me names, it made me feel worthless, and that is worse than anyone punching me in the gut. Due to the bullying I've endured during both elementary and middle school, I'm quiet, reserved and skittish. Not so skittish as to be afraid of everyone, there are the few people whom I trust.

Signed,

Anonymous

Escapism and Addictions: My Story

Every single person on this planet has several things in common, the one that hits home most is addictions and escapism.  A few examples of addictions are: Drugs, alcohol, pornography, etc… We all know those, but did you know that even just things we do everyday can turn into an addiction? Some people are addicted to books, games, television, popularity, clothes, money, boys/girls, food. We use these things to escape our issues, whether we drown our sorrows with alcohol, or we read away our trouble in our favorite go-to books.  They are both as detrimental to us. Books can be as bad as alcohol or drugs. When people say ‘addiction’ everyone automatically goes toward the “bad stuff” such as: drinking, pornography and drugs. But rarely lean toward what else it could be.

When I was younger, I used to have several addictions, I still do have one or two, I’m trying to lay them down and walk away, but with any addiction it’s hard. If you have smoked, you know that you can’t “just quit because you need to” it’s a battle. Everyday I struggle with things. I either want to escape my chores by getting on the game I play, or going to go read for hours on end, because it feels like the false-reality of those things is better than reality. Starting in elementary school, yes, fifth grade; I had a friend who wasn’t a “normal” 10 year old. She was into boys, and clothes, and make-up. While I was totally clueless, she tried “teaching” me about all that stuff, I learned about sex far too early. Which in turn led me into one of the lowest points of my life that I am just now getting out of.

Now instead of pornography; I’m addicted to gaming, and to books. I still have trouble, but I know I can stop it with the help of friends and family. I never got into the crowd that smoked, or did drugs, or even the crowd that slept around. I just got into a friendship with someone that didn’t truly love herself, she thought she was only OK because guys would tell her she was “pretty” or
“hot”. She even had me believe that I was only pretty if I had guys falling all over me.

I know now that I’m beautiful no matter what anyone thinks. But that didn’t stop me from trying to be someone that I wasn’t. I tried being the “popular” girl, well as much as I could with how shy I was. Until I had my first boyfriend, which was a long distance relationship, I didn’t believe my family when they said I was pretty, I felt I needed the confirmation of a guy. Part of that is the fact that I never had a “dad” until this last year or so. I never had a daddy tell me I was pretty, I never had that confirmation. The amount that fathers have an effect on their kids is extraordinary, if they are not there ever, or are there but are abusive, that is how the kids will see them, always. No matter if they change.

So if there are any dad’s reading this, take the time to tell your kid/kids how much you love them, they NEED to hear it. Stopping addiction starts with love. I wasn’t an “unloved” child, but I was led into believing I was because I didn’t get EVERYTHING I wanted, I wasn’t spoiled, we didn’t have the money to be spoiled. My friend acted like she was happy when her parents were just trying to buy her love. Any parents reading this, you CANNOT buy love, no matter what you think you are doing, kids need real love, which may mean saying “no”.

I’m not trying to tell anyone how to take care of kids, are you kidding? I’m still a kid, but I know what it’s like to be led down the wrong path because I believed a lie told to me by someone I thought I could trust. Until I realized I was better off without friends like her, I was being a happy-go-lucky kid, following dumbly the person I thought knew everything.

After about six years struggling with about four addictions, I have let go of one almost two. It’s not an easy path letting them go; I know I will struggle with it, but I HAVE to stand strong, just like you should.  Addictions don’t only hurt yourself, they hurt the ones that love you most, your family and your friends.

I always knew what I was doing was wrong, but it felt so good, until the guilt came. It became harder and harder for me to hide it. I was afraid to tell someone, because I thought I would get into trouble, afraid I would get yelled at. I felt like because I watched pornography I was a bad person; that my family and friends would hate me. I was afraid that I would be abandoned because of  it. When I finally told my mom about it, she didn’t get mad, she didn’t yell, all she did was wrap me up in a big hug and told me how proud she  was of me for telling her. I was in tears because I was so relieved that I was OK, that she would love me NO MATTER WHAT.

Ever since I told her, it has been easier to avoid it, I don’t watch it anymore. I know that I AM OK. Addictions DO NOT make you a bad person, you are not a “bad person” if you drink, if you smoke, whatever your addiction may be, you are NOT a bad person.

You cannot allow your past to define you, and you cannot allow your bad choices to rule your life, you CAN get away from it. You CAN put down that cigarette; you CAN turn off that video, and YOU CAN get out of your addiction. The first step to recovery is to tell someone about it if it is secret, or to talk to someone about it, no one can get rid of it on their own. We all need help, no one person is enough to quit an addiction, no a firmly rooted one, and not a slight one.

I would never have been able to kick my addiction without help, if I hadn’t told my mom what I was doing, for how long I had been watching it, I would probably still be that lost little girl, trying to be someone she is not. I do not regret my addiction, I was not defeated by it, I did persevere through it.

My message for everyone in this is simply love one another, and if you see someone you know struggling with something, just ask if they want to talk. You can’t force anyone to stop something, but you can help them if they want to. If you have a friend who wants to stop smoking, or drinking, talk to them.  

Signed,

Anonymous

Labels and Boxes

I know we all have had to deal with Labels and Boxes, and no I’m not talking about shipping, I’m talking about how we view people. I’ve been labeled, and put into boxes; and sometimes the only way that you can get out of those boxes is if the person who has put you there takes you out. Boxes in this case are how you see a person act, if you think they will act like that forever, and they can never act any way different, they are in that box, or a cookie cutter. If they don’t fit you get frustrated and try to make them fit, or you alter the box.

Putting people in boxes is one of the easiest things to do, I know I’m guilty of putting people in boxes. I’ve decided that they can’t act any other way and thus I don’t allow them to act any other way to me. I’ve labeled people, just by calling them names is a form of labeling. For me I was labeled a “cry baby”, “scaredy cat” and “loser”.

Sometimes it isn’t only the words people say but how they say them. For instance, some people  I know don’t see me as a teenager, or even a young adult; they see me as just a silly little kid. They’ve said I’m disrespectful, I don’t listen; and they act like things I want aren’t as important as what THEY want or what the “adults” want. Sometimes some things they say hurt me, instead of reacting in anger I simply walk away, most of the time literally. Then they go off on how I was being disrespectful, when I was preserving my sanity and not getting myself in trouble.

They have been known to try to focus on themselves (yes I’m guilty of that as well, I’m beginning to see that as well); I told them about a trip to a concert I went to, and how I was really close to one of the artists. “Well, blah blah blah at blah blah blah was better” was the only response I got. I know they didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, but it hurt. It hurt because it felt like they were belittling me, just because I’m a kid.

What this is all about is simply the fact that one needs to watch what they say before they say and get a filter for their words. Even when you don’t think you hurt anyone, watch their reaction, and never put any one down, no matter what it’s about.

People don’t think, and we need to think more than we do.

Signed,

Anonymous

School: My Story

I’ve been in private schools since pre-school, I went to about three different pre-schools. One Methodist based school, one Episcopal based school, and one non-denominational. Starting there I was bullied there to, not just the breaking crayons and taking toys, but getting sand thrown in the face, my hair pulled. Yeah, those things don’t seem all that bad anymore; but at the time they were traumatic.  The last pre-school I went to before Kindergarten was the best ever, I wasn’t bullied, I was happy there. Until the next year, when I went to another school for Elementary school.

During my years at my elementary school, I was bullied. Not the typical bullying either, sure I was called names, but I was also pushed around; by some of the middle to high schoolers as well. Not just those near my grade. I was called names; including: loser, scaredy cat, cry baby, etc… At the time I didn’t think much of it, I was always told that if I ignored them they wouldn’t see the fun in bullying me, but it didn’t work. If I didn’t react they would keep at it until I did. I couldn’t just block out my entire being at the time.

Kindergarten and First Grade were the easier years, we were little, there wasn’t really any major bullying then. We had fun then, the teachers were great, they didn’t put up with any name calling or pushing and shoving. In Second Grade things started going downhill slowly, the name-calling got worse, and I was just kinda ignored. A couple times in Spanish class the guys in the class would start name-calling fights, and I would always wind up in the middle of it. Not because I wanted to but because all the names were sent my way. Including: Stupid, ugly, crazy, retarded and cry baby. (That one came up a lot, probably because it was mostly accurate.)

Third Grade was OK to begin with, then one of my best friends got held back, and three of them left the school altogether. By the time I reached Fourth Grade, I was too scared to tell anyone about what was going on, about being shoved around, getting tire chips thrown at me. Being pushed off the slides etc…

Fifth Grade was where everything went down a very steep slope. I became slightly depressed; I was bullied because I wasn’t as “developed” as the two new girls who looked 16 at least. The teacher didn’t like me either, and would tell me I didn’t do my homework even when she was holding my paper in front of me; I couldn’t point it out either. I had only one friend that year, well I though I did, but I found out later that she wasn’t the type of friend I needed.

It took me five years to be able to open up to what all happened at that school. All of the bullying, getting pushed around by people older siblings. Name calling, etc…. I came home close to tears everyday. It didn’t matter what I did or what I said, I was never ‘good enough’. I always came short, never met the expectations. Later when I did tell my mom, she said if I had told her then she would have pulled me immediately, I wouldn’t have had to go through what I did, but I think if I didn’t go through that, I don’t know where I would be right now.

In a way it upset me that things were that bad in elementary school, when we should have been doing coloring pages and learning to add and subtract, I was dodging words, and sticks and stones. I was homeschooled in sixth grade, which was great, I could learn when I wanted to.

Then Seventh Grade rolled around; we decided to try a homeschool co-op; well, that was one of the worst years at any school type thing I had ever had; a close second to my Fifth Grade year. It was that year that I didn’t really see the point in even living; I was called names, the verbal abuse was worse than it was in fifth grade, which shouldn’t surprise anyone, we were older then.

One girl there must have set out to make my life a living hell there; and she was the “popular” one, the one everyone wanted to follow. So that is what they did, no matter the cost they wanted to be like her. Even someone I knew from my church turned against me just so he could fit in. I had only one friend there, and that was only because he was kind of made fun of as well. That year it also turned into some cyber bullying, I was bullied on facebook, in the comments of pictures I was tagged in.

I was called “gross”; “loser”, “disgusting”, etc… on Facebook comments.

I quit there as well, I just gave up became more depressed than I was already, beginning to feel worthless, my best friend had taken a separate path, one I didn’t want to follow, so I cut contact.

I was home schooled again in Eighth Grade. Which was an amazing break from everyone; except from family, but I could deal with them. For Ninth Grade I went to a school that was amazing in the beginning, my grades were decent, I had a couple friends, I even met my long distance BF online because of that school. I was happy, it wasn’t until Tenth grade, I got sick with a really bad cold and had to stay home, I lost so much time at school that I couldn’t make it up. I was failing most of my classes; people were ignoring me, talking about me behind my back. I only had two friends, one person acted like my friend some days, then one of his friends would show up, and I was out of the picture. Gone.

It was also Ninth grade that I was diagnosed with Linear Scleroderma, and I was put on medication that was not very nice to me. One was Prednisone, a disgusting medicine that can cause weight gain, luckily I was already way too skinny anyway. The other is Methotrexate, also not very fun, it made me sick while I was getting used to it.

So Tenth grade wasn’t fun, people didn’t outwardly avoid me, but they did ignore me. If I missed school at all, after I came back they would act like they missed me, even though they didn’t talk to me again after they said that. So near the end of my Tenth Grade year I dropped out and started home school again. It became too much stress, I couldn’t do it. I went downhill there to, because three months from finishing a years worth of school, I broke up with my long distance BF. I could barely function, I lost weight; became depressed, and reclusive.

At the beginning of Eleventh grade, I started at another homeschool co-op, this one is amazing, I’m still going there, it is made up  of others like me, people that were bullied, or just didn’t do well in a school. They accept me for who I am, but I don’t know if that is where I need to be either. I m almost a senior in Highschool, and I have no close what I want to go to school for, I don’t have enough credits to do much college wise, but I don’t know what I want to do, so I don’t know where I need to expand my credits.

All I know right now is that I am OK no matter what I do. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me; I’m just trying to tell you who I am; the best I can anyway.

Sorry about the length of this one. Thanks for reading!

Signed,

Anonymous

A Little Introduction

I should have introduced myself sooner, but I didn't think about it. As I have said in my welcoming post, this is mainly just a place for me to vent, and rant. As far as you, my readers are concerned I am Anonymous, I am a teenage girl that is just looking for an outlet. I don't always stay on one topic in my posts, but when I do, normally it is something that took a while to write. I haven't always been this open about who I am on this blog, but it is something I think will help me deal with my past a little better.
I don't need you to feel sorry for me, that will never be my goal. I just want a way for people to know the real me, and this is the easiest way for me to do that. Like most teenagers, whether they admit it or not, I'm scared. Why wouldn't I be? I'm approaching adulthood and I still don't have any plans for my life. Just the normal fears I guess, will I always have only a couple of friends, or will I have a more social life when I am in college? Will I ever find "the ONE"? All those thoughts run through my head, and this blog is for me to spill it all.

Every other week, I will be telling you, my readers, a little more about me, and about my past. Or at least that is my goal. I want to try to open up more about myself, as well as further my writing ability. I have another blog that I hope I can keep up with, it is all about my book that I am currently writing, and I would appreciate it if you would stop by and take a look here at the first couple chapters I have up. I don't think that I will publish is, until I get enough views daily on that blog. But the more feedback I get the better.
I have previously had a blog, under a similar name, however I failed  at keeping up with it. I was told by a couple people, that never even read it, that I should just give up and not bother, because people wouldn't want to read it. However, I'm back, and hoping that my reader base will expand, and I have realized that I am not writing for you, as my readers, I'm writing for me because I love to write, and I'm writing about me and my life because it is easiest for me to write, and I don't feel stressed about writing.

Thank you all who read this!

Signed,
Anonymous

Expectations

We all know people hold expectations when regarding other people. Our society has expectations of each of us. They all expect us to go to school, graduate, go to college and get a job. They expect us to fit in the mold set by predecessors before us. Well here are a few things you should know about people who society deems “failures” or even “most likely to wind up in jail”, “most likely to live at home until they are 45 years old” and blah blah blah. Well you know what? Some of the most famous scientists and inventors  were DROP OUTS.

For example:

Thomas Edison, he had only three MONTHS of formal education, yet he invented the light bulb, phonograph and motion picture camera.

Benjamin Franklin, he dropped out of school at age TEN and went to work for his father as a printer! Yet he was a  politician, diplomat, author, printer, publisher, scientist, inventor, founding father, and coauthor and cosigner of the Declaration of Independence.

Those are just a couple of people that were drop outs, that have done MORE than half of the people with a piece of paper saying that they graduated. But schooling isn’t the only expectation that people have. Some expectations are more based on what gender you are, especially for some people out there.

For instance, I was expected by people to be able to sew, clean and cook. Now, I know I can cook, and cook well; but I also love cooking. But cleaning? Sewing? I’d rather be out building something, or hunting, not stuck inside doing “women’s work” .  Sometimes people also have UNREALISTIC expectations, like expecting someone like me to be able to sit still in a classroom and not need to move around. I’m pretty sure with some testing someone would want to stick me on some meds or something like that for some not-really-there-ADD/ADHD thing for me…

There is nothing wrong with me, I just don’t learn in the general manner that everyone thinks everyone else should be able to learn in. I’m a hands on learner, I don’t learn well from books, even though I love to read. People seem to think I love to read therefore I love school, in fact I HATE school. But that’s another post altogether.

Back to expectations, what do expectations do for us? They can cause us disappointment, hurt, and can even push people away. Especially when you expect someone to follow their word, when they don’t. People have expected me to be just a good quiet girl; sometimes I feel like they have the “seen but not heard” type of girl in mind. But sorry to disappoint those people, I want my voice HEARD, I don’t like letting my opinion go to waste.

I don’t do “sittin’ pretty”; now I agree with people saying “women shouldn’t <fill in choice thing here>” but I don’t agree with “women CAN’T <fill in blank>”  We CAN do almost everything a man can, but whether we SHOULD is the question. So for those expecting us girls/women to do “women’s work”  you may be a bit disappointed, yeah, some women do like that type of stuff, others don’t. But some men like “women’s work” while some don’t.

Another thing I would like to mention in this one is the expectation of color PREFERENCES. The current society says it’s OK for girls to like a “boys” color, but it’s not OK for boys to like a “girls” color. I wasn't the cookie cutter little girl at all. I didn't like dolls, or Barbies; I liked toy cars, the toy tool bench instead of a toy kitchen. While some boys may like the dolls and the kitchen instead. That doesn't make them “gay” or “homosexual” if you really wanna be politically correct. I don’t agree with homosexuality, but I don’t see them as any less human.

So who cares if a boy likes pink, or a girl likes blue. It doesn't matter in the long run what their favorite color is.

Anyway, there goes my bunny trail… now that that is over with, back to expectations.

The society today says we should do this, or we should do that. Not even because it’s popular or whatever, but because it is what is expected of us. People expect girls to wear clothes that show WAY too much; just because they are girls. Unless of course you were raised in a strict “church family” then they expect you to dress covered from your ankles to your necks. There is rarely a median.

We need to stop “expecting” people to do something based on our PERSONAL preferences. People aren't going to drop everything they see as “right” because YOU don’t agree. Why judge someone? On something you don’t agree with PERSONALLY?

Signed,

Anonymous

Hello Everyone, and Welcome to my Crazy Life!

I guess I should start with a welcoming to my blog, but I think I'll just delve straight in.

I'm just another normal girl who wants her voice heard, but is too scared to say anything

outside of typing. I find it hard to communicate with other people, I'm quiet and reserved,

even if my friends don't think so.

I'm not just some girl who started a blog, I started a blog because I want to share my thoughts

and my pet-peeves and just other things I would otherwise sit and complain about in my quiet

ways.

I am going to say, that this will almost be like a journal in a way. It will be about me, and about my struggles during life, but I am also hoping that it will help other people who have gone through some of same things that I have.

For those who want to leave comments feel free, however if you leave: rude, inconsiderate and just plain unnecessary mean comments, will be deleted. I’m not writing to impress anyone, I write so I have a way to express myself. If you don’t like that, then keep it to yourself.

I will try to post every week, however, I can't guarantee that I can, sometimes unforeseen circumstances come up and I am unable to write.