blogging, creative writing, culture, life, writer, writing

Do You Really Want to Know…?

You ask me that infamous question…”What’s it like living with a rare disorder?”

But, do you really want to know?

You don’t really want to know what it was like to be the kid who had six surgeries, endless doctors appointments, was bullied throughout school, or what it was like to lose my eyesight in high school and the ordeal that followed in order to regain it back. What it was like to think back and ponder the fact that I almost didn’t make it to my high school graduation. That two months before those honor cords were placed around my neck, I attempted to end my life.

You don’t really want to know what it’s like to have to unwrap and rewrap wounds when hopping into the shower, a process that takes about an hour from start to finish every morning.

You don’t really want to know what it feels like when a bandage slips causing the gauze to stick to the wound, what it feels like to rip it off in order to redo the bandage.

You don’t really want to know how much blood has escaped my veins or that my body is so accustomed to the physical pain that my tolerance for it is much too high.

You don’t really want to know what it feels like to be stared at as you’re going about your business grocery shopping. How others make snarky or belittling comments under their breath, they think they’re being sneaky, but my sonar ears hear every word.

You don’t really want to know how much energy it takes to make sure those ignorant comments just ping right off of my bulletproof exterior, or how many scars are on my tongue from biting back my replies.

You don’t really want to know how much creativity I drill into everyday skills so that I can independently live my every day life.

You don’t really want to know what type of mental damage occurs when you’re labeled as physically damaged. The dark thoughts that eat at your mind, the restraint to not take your own life away from your family and friends. How hard it truly is to hold back the midnight tears, to push down all of that social negative shit.

You don’t really want to know what it’s like trying to breakdown your walls and remain genuine in a world that breathes out their negative vibes.

You don’t really want to know what it’s like to see couples in love and know that it doesn’t matter how much you dream of being in a healthy, genuinely loving relationship, in the end it is just a dream. That the storyline of Love And Other Drugs or Me & You is just Hollywood, not inspiration to keep searching for your soulmate. To hold onto the hopes that there is a guy out there that will look right past the outer exterior, he’ll see me for me, a mere wish placed upon a penny.

You don’t really want to know what 24 hours of living my life consists of. You don’t want to know why I keep fighting, why I want to help others. You don’t really want to know the real me and that’s ok…

But, don’t falsely act like you want to know, that you actually care. That’s just wrong.

So, before you ask me what it’s like living with a rare disorder, make sure you really want to know.

Make no mistake, I live in a prison
That I built myself, it is my religion
And they say that I am the sick boy
Easy to say, when you don’t take the risk, boy
Welcome to the narcissism
Where we’re united under our indifference… -The Chainsmokers

blogging, creative writing, death, life, writer, writing

Beating Flatline

The latter part of the year is nearing. Summer is phasing out as Autumn begins to slowly sneak in. September through the new year is my favorite season, from birthdays to the holidays, something about this time of the year makes my heart glow as if Christmas lights were strung around it.

A sense of magic is embedded into the crisp Autumn and Winter atmosphere, I’m grinning just thinking about it.

However, this part of the year also has a few “hold back the tears” dates sprinkled in. These dates, once heartbreaking, now represent a content nostalgia. Two anniversaries, one of life and one of death.

Your life is not your own, keep your hands off of it… -Sherlock Holmes

September 23rd will mark four years since that day I found myself sitting on the sand processing my test results along with the sentence, “I don’t know how it is that you’re still alive…” as the sun glowed a bright pink behind those purple cotton candy clouds…the day I found myself reminiscing down memory lane then pondering about all of the dreams that I hadn’t breathed life into yet, all of these glowing bulbs in my head that hadn’t yet been plugged in…the day I allowed tears to gush down my cheeks as my heart was drinking in the realization that it would never find its mate, that a genuine love would never be found, that a family would never be born in the future…the day I contemplated between once again fighting for my life or calling Grim to let him know that I’m ready to permanently sleep.

What is a beautiful life without a beautiful death… -MGK

I continue to contemplate if what I read is true, if in some cases we aren’t given another day of life for ourselves, but because someone out there in this chaotically beautiful world needs us. While I no longer want to end my own life, I did stop fighting for myself long ago. An unknown force keeps my lifeline beeping, I believe that I’m fighting for someone else, I just wish I knew who. This does indeed keep me up with the moon.

October 15th marks eleven years since my Popee passed away. The big “C” spread its toxic cells throughout his liver, taking him much too soon. However, my Popee also had Parkinson’s which was rapidly growing. That first year of him being gone fed my anger emotion, in a time where I needed him most he was taken away. Shit, two weeks after his death was hard, the feeling that was racing through my entire body as I read the birthday card he had set aside for me is a feeling that is indescribable. Oct. 15th flatline…Nov. 2nd “Happy 23rd Birthday kiddo!”. The bday money that was placed in that card could only be spent one way, at our favorite place, the ice cream shop.

Every Oct. 15th I smile as I flip through old photos. Frozen moments that have captured every adventure, from the beach to Disneyland. Every Nov. 2nd I order an ice cream, cheers to you Popee.

It’s been a long day without you my friend and I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again… Wiz Khalifa

Yeah, I do love this time of the year. It has a magic embedded into the atmosphere. A flatline that’s still beating being watched over by a beautiful soul.

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Dangerous Humans

If I were to ask you who the most dangerous type of people are, I’m guessing your answer would lie somewhere along the lines with murderers, psychopaths or possibly MI6 specially trained operates (I may have recently watched a 007 movie 🙃). Now your answers are considered correct, those are some very dangerous types of people, however, there is one other type of person that could be considered equally dangerous…

Those humans that don’t need other humans. That exclusive species that stopped needing others in there lives. They are completely stabilized and functional solo. This isn’t to say that they have no one in their lives, it is simply that those that reside in their circle are wanted not needed. See, when you eliminate needing someone in your life vs. wanting someone in your life, you eliminate the pain that normally would be inevitable if anyone should betray you or leave you.

Needing = walls down & attached strings

Wanting = guard up & no strings

This isn’t a recommended way of living life. It has been scientifically proven that we humans function and thrive better amongst each other. However, sometimes life has this not so funny way of throwing a monkey wrench into your world, ultimately breaking your world. So, sometimes the only way one can rebuild and restart is to practice the lone wolf life style. We want people in our lives, we just don’t allow ourselves to need them. Mainly due to past experiences that created new fears.

It’s just me, myself and I so I’ll ride until I die ’cause I got me for life… – G-Eazy

blog, blogger, blogging, life, music, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Verbal Traffic Jam

Reason #723 why I love music…when the verbal traffic jam hits, lyrics rush in to calm the mental rush hour.

(Ok, I don’t think that I could actually ramble off 723 reasons as to why I love music, however it’s nearly 1am and the brain isn’t currently caffeinated at high enough levels to fully function. So, you’ll have to cut me a little slack. 👻)

My mind is currently feeling all of the feels, more prominently this emotion…

Wanna know where I don’t go
When it goes from OK to a oh no
When it goes from hi five to a low blow
When it goes from all five to a solo
Lemme tell you what you don’t know
I been down, so low
I was looking for something but denying that I found it
There’s an elephant sitting in the room
And I can’t find another way to tiptoe around it
I been doing greater good for a long time
But I can’t find any other way to give now
I been putting myself on the sideline
And it’s been time so I’m saying can I live now…” -Mike Shinoda

My heart continues to feel this emotion.. and it won’t stop. ( How do I make it stop?)…

You could be my someone you could be my scene
You know that I’ll protect you from all of the obscene
I wonder what you’re doing imagine where you are
There’s oceans in between us but that’s not very far…” -Puddle of Mudd

Well there it is, verbally expressed thoughts without speaking a single word.

Alright guys, I hope you have a good night or day and I’ll chat with you later. Time for a little ice cream and Netflix or Hulu…let’s see what looks good. Peace out. 🖤

I am Derra Sabo and I approve the above message 👍

blog, blogger, blogging, life, writer, writing

Words vs Actions vs Art

Sometimes…

Sometimes words don’t posses the capability to show a person’s heart, mind or soul…

Sometimes actions truly do speak volumes louder than the written language…

Sometimes a physical photo, a captured moment can assist in expressing what one’s mind, heart or soul looks like…a person’s interior, when all you see is the exterior…

My mind…

My heart…

My soul…

You don’t know my brain the way you know my name…you don’t my heart the way you know my face… -Twenty One Pilots

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My Thoughts, Your Ears

If you listen closely enough, you can hear the thoughts spiraling around someone’s mind or heart without them saying a word….

Shhhhh..just listen…

Habits by Machine Gun Kelly

Me, Myself and I by G-Eazy

Let You Down by NF

Running From my Shadow by Mike Shinoda

Home by Machine Gun Kelly

Jumpsuit by Twenty One Pilots

Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons

Sad Song by We The Kings

Hold Me Tight or Don’t by Fall Out Boy

Church by Fall Out Boy

Heaven’s Gate by Fall Out Boy

blog, blogger, blogging, creative writing, culture, life, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Shame On Me

Hey guys, one of my best friends and I collaborated on this blog idea. Brandi and I wrote about self love. Please make sure you head over to her blog and check out her piece & amazing work. She is such a talented writer.

Something ain’t right inside of me… -MGK

Shame on me for having freckles that are sporadically speckled all over my body. Shame on me for having scars that intermingle with certain areas on my body. Shame on me for not having a perfect human form that is beautifully tan and unblemished.

Shame on me for having a physical disorder that has left behind evidence of surgeries. Shame on me for being a size zero in jeans, I must having an eating disorder, right. Shame on me for not being the perfect specimen that society prefers I’d be in order to be deemed acceptable.

Shame on me…

I became such a strange shape tryin’ to fit in… -FOB

Shame on me for finding contentment within myself, with my body. Shame on me for loving my porcelain freckled skin. Shame on me for being proud of my scars, for they are the proof that I have survived many battles, both physical and mental. Shame on me for tarnishing my body with inky pictures that describe certain parts of my life’s story.

Shame on me for having an appetite for all different types of cuisine, including delicious carbs. Shame on me for being born into this world damaged and loving that fact.

Shame on me for loving humans for who they are, for their intellectual minds, their kind hearts and beautiful souls. Shame on me for not judging someone because of their imperfections.

Shame on me for going against the grain, for thinking outside the box, for standing up for what’s right and shame on me for starting a fire and continually adding fuel to it.

Shame on me…

Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls…sing it out for the ones that will hate your guts… sing it for the world…MCR