It’s 9:13pm on a Monday and

I feel like I should cry

But I don’t and instead

I wrap my arms around myself

And fold my knees up against my chest

While the waves keep crashing in my skull

Dragging the sand away from my shore

Tearing it up bit by bit

Chunks ripped out of my sunny paradise

Some vacation

I want to go home

The thought is my ocean

I want to go home

But here I am

Sitting at my dining room table

I’ve realized that

Home is a feeling

And I don’t know what home feels like





Well someone asked about my boy drama, so here it goes. I’ll admit I’ve been avoiding it for a while. So I’m going to talk about the last three guys that I’ve “dated.” I put quotes around it because one was never official and one was really too short for it to be noteworthy. I’m going to go in reverse order and start with the guy I was just with (Evan/ the online guy), then the one before that (I think I referred to him as poem guy), then finally Lewis (if you recognize Lewis, you’ve been around since the way beginning or you’ve done some considerable reading of my blog, and I’m impressed).

Evan and I “dated” for a few months. Considering I dated Lewis for three years I find it hard to really consider Evan and I fully dating even though we had made it official. So I met him online (League of Legends), by some miracle he ended up only being 15 minutes away, and we met. During the summer I would get one 24 hour break a week from work, and I always went to see him. It didn’t take long for us to think we were in love. When we both started the new semester, I learned a lot I didn’t know about him. He was an engineering major at a fancy private school for technology, and I interpreted that as him being a very hard worker. I was so very wrong. He did nothing but complain about his school work, he skipped class all the time, and he was doing poorly in all of his classes. I just couldn’t see eye to eye with him on all of that. Hard working to me doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re doing very well in all your classes and you’re an engineering major. I just mean someone who works hard and gives everything they do all they’ve got. It doesn’t even mean being in college, it just means always doing your best. I was sick of hearing him complain, giving him advice and encouragement, and then him not taking the advice and just doing poorly because he was lazy. On top of that I am probably the most independent person on the planet. I do my best to do everything on my own. Because I’m so strong, I attract dependent people who think that I will be able to take care of them and myself. I was sick of being his mother. I was more mature than he was. That doesn’t mean that he isn’t a great person who is kind and funny and sweet, but it does mean that we were drastically incompatible. He was incapable of giving me space, and I was incapable of giving him the constant attention that he needed. I don’t regret our time together, but to be honest if I could go back in time, I would not have dated him. We were good for a time, it was all good fun, but it had an expiration date.

Time for poem guy, and can I just say I have not thought about this kid for a while. We had a summer fling, but really the same thing that happened with Evan happened with him. He didn’t complain or anything, and he was a very hard worker which is why it was really really great for a while. Nevertheless, he was a project person. He wanted me to fix him, and I thought I could for a while. He’d tell me I was helping him with his (undiagnosed) depression which made me feel good. It just came to the point that he was leaning on me way too much. He needed constant attention and reassurance, and I needed space. I’m starting to sound like I’, afraid of commitment, but really I am just highly introverted. I like to be alone, and I don’t always need to be hugging, cuddling, and kissing. I am the opposite of clingy, but somehow I attract clingy people. So it just didn’t work out, and we were never official anyway.

Where do I start with Lewis? We started dating late freshman year of highschool, and we dated for three years. Lewis was the ultimate project person. He also claimed to be depressed and told me that I was helping him to be happy again. However, he was a lot more dangerous. Lewis was manipulative. He guilted me all the time. If we hadn’t hung out together outside of school for a few days, he would accuse me of all sorts of things. He didn’t like that I had online friends, he got jealous of my best girl friend, and he drove away every other friend of mine until my only friends were his friends (except my best girl friend who I’ve never talked about on this blog, but I really should because she is one of the best people in my life). I thought he loved me, but really he just loved having me. I thought about breaking up with him so many times, but he said over and over again that he would kill himself if I left him. He would often tell me that if I didn’t do something that he wanted me to do he would cut himself, and he really did cut himself when I upset him. He has a scar on his left wrist that is wide and purple and will never ever go away. He cut himself down to his bone, and then he sent me the pictures. I started just doing what he asked of me. If he would cut himself so deeply, he might actually kill himself if I left. That was my thought process anyway. Before our senior prom, it became too much for me. I couldn’t handle his mood swings, his attachment to me, or his manipulation anymore. I made sure that one of our friends would be there for him to convince him not to commit suicide if he had really meant those threats. With encouragement from my best friend, I broke up with him finally. I never told anyone why though. I told everyone, including him, that he was a great person and I didn’t regret our time together. I said that I was just unhappy, and I didn’t want to have a long distance boyfriend in college. Because of that I looked like a monster, and all of our friends sided with him. I was the villain who broke his heart. It was lonely at first because I only had one friend, but I’ve always been independent. I was also going to go to college soon and make all new friends, so that helped me get through it. However, in the months that followed our break up, all of our mutual friends who had begun to hate me, saw the real him for themselves. Without me to manipulate and lean on, he had turned on them for everything I used to provide him. They all came back to me and apologized. They couldn’t believe that I had stayed with him so long and didn’t trash his name afterward. These days I don’t think about him much. His mom still messages me on Facebook to tell me she misses me, and that he was such a better person with me. In her mind, we will get back together someday. That will never happen. This isn’t everything, I obviously couldn’t fit three years into one post, and there were happy moments too. However, I do regret that relationship. I wish I had been single in high school honestly.

That’s my boy dilemmas. It doesn’t seem like a happy story, but what I’ve learned from all this is that I’m strong. I have survived 100% of my worst days, and I consider that a good track record and a victory. I hope you all have had better relationships than me. Feel free to ask my advice on relationship stuff, I have had a lot of experience. Thank you guys for listening. Have a great holiday season.



You called me, out of anyone that you could’ve called, why me? After all, you hate me. You’ve done nothing but ignore me and shut me out for months. Nevertheless, when you were at the end of your rope, it was my number that you called. I dropped everything. I drove you to the emergency room so you could admit yourself. I even drove back when you needed a ride home. I joked in the car and did anything to make you feel less uncomfortable. I sang along to every Hits One song, smiling the whole way despite the feelings I held back.

This morning you tried to act like the past three months hadn’t happened. You tried to pretend that we were fine, best friends again. You and I both know that nothing has changed. We both know that you will lash out at me again as soon as you come down from this high. We both know that I will let you. Only I know that you haunt my dreams, and I haven’t gotten any rest from sleeping since the day you decided I was your enemy. Nothing has changed, I would still drive you to the hospital any day. Nothing has changed, you will still never be my friend again.


I’m in a bit of a slump I guess. I’ve been really sick lately, and so that’s made it hard to do much. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to hang out with my friends much because they are always going places, and being so sick, I’ve tried to stay home and rest. I’ve been pretty lonely due to that. They all stay out very late and have a lot of fun, but I’ve had to be left behind. So here’s the sad story. I’ve started posting on Reddit looking for friends. Pretty pathetic right? At least I have people to talk to now. I just want someone that I can really talk to. I am too afraid to really talk about anything with my friends because I don’t want them thinking of me differently. I’ve never really spoken openly with anyone because people either start pitying me or they just don’t care. I’ve always been the person that anyone can talk to. People tell me anything and everything, and I’m always there listening and giving advice if they’d like. Everyone vents to me and depends on me, but then no one asks how I am. It’s partly my own fault, even if someone did ask how I was, I wouldn’t tell them the truth. I have to be the strongest person. I can’t afford to break like other people. Reddit may be a great place for finding people, but I haven’t found anyone  that I can really talk to. I don’t even need someone who’ll listen to my issues and care, I just want someone interesting. I want someone that I can talk to every day, and they won’t get bored of me. I want someone who actually can hold a conversation. I have yet to meet anyone my whole life who is capable of holding a conversation for an extended period of time. Maybe I’m asking for too much. Oh well. I’m feeling gray is all. I just need to get out of this slump. It’s almost Thanksgiving! I hope you have a great Thanksgiving, and that you eat a lot of yummy food. I also hope that you don’t have any fatally awkward conversations over the dinner table. Remember what you’re thankful for, and have a great day!


Rose Petals

I’ve spent the morning

Sweeping white and red rose petals

Across the floor

Blood and water

Swirling together but

Refusing to mix

Little droplets of wine and cellophane

Dancing around one another

And singing sugary

Perfume titles

Chanel, Clive Christian, Baccarat, Shalini

As if roses cost fortunes

Only to end up in

My dust pan

A collection of riches

For the trash


I literally wrote this because I had to sweep up rose petals one morning. That morning was during my senior year of high school, so I figured it was time to lay this one to rest now that I’m a sophomore in college. I really like some of the imagery of this poem, but I didn’t know quite where to take it, so I took it to the trash can just like I did to those petals. I’ve truly come full circle here. I really liked the idea of naming really expensive perfumes for some reason when I started this, which I now think is a bit dumb, but I loved it so much back then that I decided to keep it. This is a bit of a nonsense poem, but that’s okay. Nothing is ever perfect, this just happens to be far from perfect. Well, that’s one of the endless poems I have in my drafts done. I might revisit some of the ideas here one day for another poem, but for now this one is done.





Yesterday morning my mom tagged herself on Facebook as being in Salem MA. Not only was she in Salem, she was also at a brewery in Salem. I had no idea she had planned to go to Salem, but I was happy that she was taking time for herself. Then she texts me to say that I need to go to Salem for my birthday next year because my birthday will be the Saturday before Halloween, and also she’s booking the hotel for my birthday next year right now. She gets really happy and nice when she drinks. She’s always happy and nice, but the alcohol amplifies that quality in her. She just wants to hug you, compliment you, and do nice things for you when she’s drunk. I’m not complaining. Anyway, she told me that not only was she in Salem, she was in Salem with her hairdresser who is a Wiccan High Priestess. Seriously, I’m not making this up; I’m not creative enough to be making this up. Anyway, I kept asking why she was in Salem, and she kept saying that I need to come to Salem. I never did find out why she randomly went to Salem, but she did check in at the Salem Witch Trial Memorial. She also bought a dress that looks like a Ouija board, but she called it a “Wigi” board. My mom is adorable. I don’t think that she’s Wiccan, but she is definitely the type of person who “doesn’t believe that healing crystals or incense work,” but still has them just in case they do work. Maybe she is converting to a Pagan religion. My family is pretty interesting and weirder things have happened. Maybe around this time next October I’ll be in Salem MA at a brewery because my mom needs a designated driver. Maybe I’ll be in rehearsal around this time next October. Who knows? I’ll probably be in rehearsal, but that’s okay because I love rehearsal. I don’t know where I was going with this at all. I just started this whole post with the intention of highlighting how odd and amazing my mom is. I was given an amazing mom in order to make up for the rest of my family!

I need to keep working on the poetry I have in my drafts. I have 6 poems just sitting and collecting dust. I think I need to scrap a few because they are just awful, but some may be redeemable. I also have a single short story in the works, but it isn’t as good as some of my old stories. Yes, this is the story I’ve been saying that I’ve been working on for literally a year. It’s probably never going to be publish-ready. I guess I need a new story idea! The other artsy part of me has been neglected lately too. I haven’t done any real singing in months. I miss belting at the top of my lungs and not having to worry about five suitemates who may get annoyed with me singing. I mean I could just sing and annoy everyone, but that would just make my living arrangement worse. Not that I hate living with these five people or anything, it’s actually just my roommate that I have issues with. She has crippling depression and takes it out on me. She actually takes it out on three of us in the suite, but I’m the only one who seems bothered by it. I think it’s because I literally can’t escape her. I’m not the type of person who just lets people take out all their issues on me anymore. I learned my lesson there. However, if I stick up for myself, I could cause serious issues in my suite. Not only that, but my roommate could go back into a depressive state like she did last time we upset her. She didn’t get out of bed for four days until we finally begged her to forgive us. Woah! Guess who just realized that this post is very off topic. The answer is me! Anyway, what was I talking about? My mom is the best, I need to finish my poems, I need a new short story idea. Alright, that’s all for now.


PS I am really excited for Halloween, I got my costume today! I am a genius because I’m going as The Cat’s Pajamas. Basically, I get to wear comfy pj pants while everyone else suffers in their sexy nurse costumes. Happy almost Halloween!

Night Terrors

Do you ever have those dreams that are incredibly realistic? I get them way too often. My poor roommate is always complaining about how I talk in my sleep. My roommate last year had to deal with me when I was having a ton of these dreams, and I would start throwing things in my sleep. I don’t really care that she had to deal with that though, she put me through enough that I’ll call us even. Anyway, last night I dreamt about something that has actually happened to me. I dreamt about the last time I donated blood. So a while back I posted about how if at all possible you should donate blood. A lot of people are “afraid of needles” and “can’t” donate blood, which I think is pretty much bs for a lot of people. Needles suck, I understand that, but if  you can be uncomfortable for 20 minutes, then you could save lives. When you donate money or time, you often don’t see the full effect of your volunteerism. However, when you donate blood, you know that that blood will save a life. It’s a tangible product of your volunteerism.

If you plan to donate blood someday, but are a little nervous, do not read this next paragraph!

Okay, so I faint when I donate blood. That’s a fact of my life. I still donate though because I don’t care that I faint if it means helping someone. But the last time I donated blood, I didn’t just faint. My entire body went into shock. It was so serious that if the nurse hadn’t gotten me back in control of my body, she was about to call an ambulance. That would’ve been embarrassing. The fainting is my own fault. I get really anxious around needles and also blood is being taken out of my body so I get woozy. Going into shock was absolutely not my fault! The blood drive was overfull. There were too many donors and not enough nurses. My nurse set me up with the needle in me and then went away to set up someone else. When you donate blood they give you a stress ball to squeeze so that the blood flows quicker. The nurse next to my station told me that my blood bag and extra 6 vials were full and that I should stop squeezing. I stopped and assumed that someone would come take out the needle. I was wrong. It took about 15 minutes before my nurse came back and took out the needle. In the meantime, every other nurse would tell me to stop squeezing because I was done, but no one took out the stupid needle! In order to take out the needle, the nurse first cuts the tube that the blood went into. When the nurse finally cut mine, I felt an extreme pain in my arm. It turns out the the needle kept trying to suck out my blood and it created a vacuum seal to my vein. Once the needle is out, you’re supposed to hold your arm vertically in the air, but my arm barely moved. The nurse raised my arm for me, and suddenly I felt like my fingers had gone to sleep. They tingled. The nurse asked if I was okay, and I said that my hands were asleep. I mean, that’s what I tried to say, but it came out all slurred. She asked me to squeeze her hand, but my body wouldn’t listen to what I was telling it to do. I was completely limp. My nurse started freaking out, which made me freak out more. She started lifting my legs and moving them in circles. This is something nurses always tell me to do while I’m passing out. She told me to cough like a smoker (another method to keep yourself from fainting). Finally I was able to gain motion in my toes, then my legs, then slowly my whole body. Meanwhile about three nurses had stopped what they were doing so they could be backup if needed. Anyway, moral of the story, I dreamt about that last night. Only the nurse was saying things she didn’t actually say, and she was a man in my dream. Other than that, it was a reenactment of that moment. I woke up feeling a little paralyzed, which is good because I probably would’ve been screaming if I didn’t feel paralyzed. I used to scream in my sleep when I was little.

So if you read that and are now scared to donate blood, I told you not to read it! I’m still going to donate blood even though I nearly went to the hospital because of it. Don’t be selfish, you’ve got enough blood in you. If you legitimately can’t donate blood because of height or weight restrictions or anything else, you’re off the hook. I can’t donate double red because I don’t weigh 160 and I’m not 5’5. I wish I could do double red though. But if you’re just “afraid of needles,” then suck it up! Save a life today!