blog, blogging, life, mental health, writer, writing

Rubberband

Upon my right wrist used to live a rubberband…

This rubberband’s daily mission was to snap a sharp sting that would shoot up from my vein all the way up to my brain…

That sharp sting would annihilate the current toxic thought of wanting to murder my name…

All through high school this rubberband fought tirelessly to save my existence…

Today, that rubberband has been replaced by this life line embedded underneath this scarred skin. This ink’s purpose is that of a promise made to another human that I would never again attempt to take my own life…

Upon my right arm lives the memory of a rubberband.

Neon Gravestones try to call for my bones… -Twenty One Pilots

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Symbiote

The lyrics below are the very ones that have been swirling around my mind. Here is a dose of motivation, let this symbiote take over..

“I got a song filled with shit for the strong-willed
When the world gives you a raw deal
Sets you off ’til you scream, “Piss off! Screw you!”
When it talks to you like you don’t belong
Or tells you you’re in the wrong field
When something’s in your mitochondrial
‘Cause it latched on to you, like—

Knock knock, let the devil in
Malevolent as I’ve ever been, head is spinnin’
This medicine’s screamin’, “L-L-L-Let us in!”
L-L-Like like a salad bowl, Edgar Allan Poe
Bedridden, shoulda been dead a long time ago
Liquid Tylenol, gelatins, think my skeleton’s meltin’
Wicked, I get all high when I think I’ve smelled the scent
Of elephant manure—hell, I meant Kahlúa
Screw it, to hell with it, I went through hell with accelerants
And blew up my-my-myself again

Volkswagen, tailspin, bucket matches my pale skin
Mayo and went from Hellmann’s and being rail thin
Filet-o-Fish, Scribble Jam, Rap Olympics ’97 Freaknik
How can I be down? Me and Bizarre in Florida
Proof’s room slept on the floor of the motel then
Dr. Dre said “hell yeah!”
And I got his stamp like a postcard, word to Mel-Man
And I know they’re gonna hate
But I don’t care, I barely can wait
To hit them with the snare and the bass
Square in the face, this fuckin’ world better prepare to get laced
Because they’re gonna taste my—Venom…” -Eminem

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From Me to You đź–¤

Hey guys, hope you’re having an awesome day, afternoon or night. I thought I’d share an excerpt from my book with you. Below is part of the opening letter that I have written to you, the reader. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to share your thoughts. đź–¤

**How y’all doin’? Perfectly imperfect I hope. Well, I come to you today because I have a favor to ask of you. I need you to do me a kindness. Don’t worry, it won’t take up much of your time and it doesn’t cost a single shiny Lincoln, however, it does require a few ounces of brain power and an open space in your heart. I have a story for you… Yes, I know what you’re thinking, “Oh great, another book about a nobody’s life. A tale of how a nobody had a great childhood then hit a pot hole or two while growing up, but in the end found herself and had a happily ever after.” Well congrats, you are 50% correct. This is indeed a tale of a nobody’s life, however, the bits about finding herself and having a happily ever are slightly off. My tale is about a young girl born with an unwanted label cemented onto her forehead, a label that cast a beautiful curse upon her heart. Do you know what it feels like to be a happy kid and then to have that rug pulled from under your feet? To go from feeling broken to damaged to completely worthless in one swift motion? How about wanting so much to fit in that it starts to break you down into a reflection that your 20/20 vision can no longer make out? To be marked as “different”?

I have a story to tell you, a story filled with happiness drowned out by brokenness, sprinkled with darkness and topped with a delicious suicide attempt. Served alongside is a refreshing shot of completely losing one’s self, ending in rebuilding an underdog to become an invincible version of a beautifully imperfect human.

So here we are; just you and I sitting in a cozy place getting ready for the story that I have to tell. Now whether you listen or not is your decision…

I’m just a problem that doesn’t wanna be solved… -Fall Out Boy

So here I am sharing a few shining pieces of these letters about the people that protect my stitched scars. Embrace its honesty and pass on its contagiousness.**

CLICK THIS BLUE SENTENCE TO ORDER YOUR COPY OF DEAR YOU

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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

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Two Little Horns & A California Soul

These warm sand grains trickle down in my minds hourglass as the melody of these foamed capped waves crashing in and out calm my anxious ears…

This vibrantly painted sunset recharges the dim glow flickering within the center of my soul. The neon pinks and oranges capture the distracted attention of my broken Christmas light eyes…

This cooling SoCal summer breeze intertwining with the silhouette of these palm trees washes over my freckled frame, leaving a sense of home that is rarely felt by these German/ Irish bones…

These tiny black marks imprinted in each left corner of this mind, heart and soul slowly pulsates reminding me of the past, these scars, this ink and the O.G. version of who I was…

This warrior heart stitched in gold reminds me of the contentment I’ve earned, of the unknown beauty in every future dream and possibility…

In her heart there’s a hole, there’s a black mark on her soul… -Bryce Fox

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Life’s No Fun Without a Good Scare

If you were to ask me what my favorite childhood movie is my answer would be The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Not just because of the fact that it’s an awesome movie or because it was created by the legendary Tim Burton, but because I resonate with the main pumpkin king himself, Jack Skellington.

Even though Jack was the man, the king of Halloween, he felt like something was missing, like there was something more to life. He felt as though he didn’t fully belong in Halloweentown, he needed to find himself, he needed to venture out. Thus the insanity that spiraled out with the kidnapping of Sandy Claws and Oogie Boogie causing chaos with the help of Lock, Shock and Barrel.

In the end of the Christmas madness, Jack realized that while his intrigue was ignited by all the magic of Christmas, he was the best pumpkin king there was. He always belonged in Halloweentown amongst The Mayor, Sally and his adorable ghostly dog Zero. By venturing out he found himself.

I lost myself and had to become someone I wasn’t in order to truly find myself.

I love my family, my friends, I love my life and have found a contentment within myself I didn’t think I’d ever find.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, but I can tell you that I watch it every year during Halloween and Christmas.

My favorite song from the soundtrack is What’s This? And the rendition done by Fall Out Boy is insane. Go give it a listen.

blog, blogging, life, writer, writing

Four Years Ago

Four years ago…

Sitting here on the cooling sands, watching the sun kiss the moon goodnight, a fleet of memories and realities slam my mind. As the breeze calls for my hoodie to cover my chilled bones, these tears begin to trickle down my freckled cheeks. The thought of my demise never bothered me, this type of life that was cursed upon me includes death as a forefront thought that never takes a break. Yet here I am, shivering at the thought that death has finally kissed my forehead.

My past flashing by, the memories of birthdays and holidays spiral by. Watergun fights, family Bbq’s, endless beach trips, graduations, family game nights, concerts and hockey games.

Past scars temporarily unstitching themselves causing flashes of surgeries, bullies and dark times that tried to break me and damn near did.

I survived. Everything the world hurled at me and here I am still dancing.

Then my mind shifted to all the future beautiful moments I’m never going to witness.

Sharing my story with others, being their jumpsuits. Turning up the volume in ending the stigma that continues to stifle the suicidal hearts. I had plans…

Is the toxicity of my last relationship going to be what I have to try and consider love?

I’m never going to find true love, to have that day of saying “I do” to my “Jack” in front of our family and close friends…I’ll never have kids, to see them grow up, smile as they wake Christmas morning, to make pancakes with them on weekends, to watch them fall in love with the beach while enjoying an gooey s’more and bonfires. I’ll never get to cheer them on at their sports games, school plays, graduations. I’ll never get to spoil them on their birthdays or hand over those keys when they get their license.

The thought of watching my kids find their soulmates, having families of their own and being the Grandma who gets to spoil her grandkids is fading with every tear. The wish of sitting on the front porch with my partner when we’re 80 years old, sipping tea and remenicsing down memory lane was vastly slipping into the land of the forgotten.

These dreams of mine hung in the balance right beside these decisions I need to sign, seal and deliver.

Do I pull myself back into the world I swore I’d never reenter?

Do I do morph, fight and conquer once again? Do I have enough energy, enough will to do so?

What if this battle isn’t victorious…all the research I’ve done (from dietary changes to vitamins, supplements) what if it fails. Do I cave to professionals or do I punch out (PAS) while I’m still myself?

Every memory played in my mind like the most beautifully intense movie I’ve ever seen.

Every broken dream flickered in my eyes.

……………..

Four years later…turns out this world and I aren’t finished with one another yet…

Perhaps that kiss from death was for good luck in the future…

Everytime I think I’m done, something pulls me back in…

I just wish I knew what that something is because I’d like to say thank you…

I’ll be right there, but you’ll have to grab my throat and lift me in the air…if you need anyone… -Twenty One Pilots