A Letter; An Ending?

You gave me a false sense of security that I am beginning to truly resent you for. After years of listening to my situation at home, seeing firsthand the level of trauma I’ve undergone, witnessing my daily battle with diabetes, supporting me when my life crashed and fell apart all around me; everything was a ruse, wasn’t it? You never really cared about me, I was simply a pawn to you.

You promised me a future of working together and building an empire, but that dream was selfish wasn’t it? Your intentions were only ever to use me for your own personal gain.

Since the day I met you, you empowered and pushed me to become a determined and intelligent individual. You persuaded me to work hard and, more than anything, love to work. You saw potential in me that I still, to this day, sometimes fail to see, and you believed in me like so few other people ever have. But at the end of the day, none of that was sincere or honest or genuine or meaningful.

You threw it all away, without a single care or regret.

I told you a few months ago that if the program were to fall apart, it would be because of you. You’re making true to that statement more with every passing day.

You were my chest to cry on, shoulder to lean on, and steady hand of guidance, but now I can barely stand to look you in the face. You are not the man you were just five months ago. You are simply a shell of the person whom I handed my life over to.

I trusted you. I don’t trust anyone. I don’t forge close relationships with anyone. I save myself from any situations that may result in pain, and I took a risk with you and broke all of my self-imposed rules and you are simply proving why I have my rules set in the first place. You reminded me why I don’t let people in, why I shy away from physical and emotional contact, why I will always rather be alone. You took all of my insecurities and broadcast them to the world and I will likely never forgive you for that.

You were a role model and inspiration for countless individuals who now all stand in line to spit on you; for what? Ten minutes of passion? Risky touches and flirtatious laughs? Scandal? Everyone who ever respected and loved you to turn on you?

The future is in your hands and you have a very important choice to make that could potentially redefine everything we’ve done up to this point and everything that could have been. It’s me, us, the program, or it’s her. You cannot and will not have both.

You ruined everything.

Sunny

Hello again my wayward blog, it’s been a while once again. The past two weeks have been a blur, and they’re nothing compared to what the next week has in store for me.

I have bought my prom dress, been accepted to a total of 4 schools, confirmed that I will be leaving Florida for college, spent time with good company, lost friends, and barely slept. Once upon a time, my lack of sleep would have been disastrous for myself and all those around me; now, although I still get more grumpy than usual, it doesn’t leave me totally defenseless anymore.

I had a lot I wanted to write about but now that I’ve sat down to, everything has slipped from my mind.

I went home today. I was happy. I am happy.

I’ve been left feeling as though everything in my life is simultaneously falling apart and coming together. I’m tired more often than I had been, and I attribute that to the monstrous emotional strain I’ve been enduring. For the first time since the summer, I admitted to needing help. It’s a big step for me.

Talking to Ex-Boyfriend (I need a new nickname for him) again has reintroduced me to the inner peace I had missed for so long. I’m okay and functional without him, but there’s no sense in pretending that I’m not better with him. His leaving to LA is also much more bearable than it ever could have been otherwise.

Competition is coming up really quick and I am growing more nervous with each passing day.

 

I had a lot to say but now I have nothing. Will return with an update if I remember later.

Detune

Frustrating nights become frustrating days become frustrating weeks.

I really hate when people try to put words in my mouth or misconstrue what I was trying to say. If I say “I wasn’t impressed,” I did not say “I hated it” and don’t try to make it seem like I did.  For the most part, I mean exactly what I say, and except for few cases with few people, I rarely leave something up the implication. Do not try to assume how I feel or what I’m thinking because I can guarantee you will almost always be wrong.

This week got off to a rocky start on Monday and it’s felt pretty downhill from there. I had a few brief hours of respite last night, but I’m back in a hole and I don’t really feel like climbing out anytime soon.

I’m tired of people not doing their parts and leaving me to pick up their slack. I’m tired of people needlessly taking their frustrations out on me because someone else pissed them off. I’m tired of constantly being made out to be the bad person when I actively try to remain as fair and balanced as possible, and I watch everything I say so carefully. Literally, I don’t watch my tone for one sentence in an entire day, but that one sentence is held against me for a week. It’s honestly starting to feel like I won’t win regardless of how hard I try to remain in people’s good graces, and I’m starting to just get fed up with even trying.

For the first time in a really long while, it’s starting to feel like I won’t miss a lot of my life here once I leave for college. How unfortunate.

Satisfied

Cheers to another surprisingly good week!

I had another two interviews with universities I applied to, and they were worlds better than my first one! I’m still in shock at the praise I received from my interviewers, and the conversations I had with them make me really excited at the prospect of having similar conversations in a college environment. I’m really eager to be surrounded by people who are as willing and hungry to learn as I am. 70 days until I know where I’ll be living in just about eight months, and I’m excited.

I finally sorted out the issue with my sensor, which I am now happily wearing again after a four-month hiatus. Now that I’m halfway through the school year and I’ve gotten through the worst of it, I’m cracking down on my diabetes care again. I had let myself slip for the past few weeks because of how stressed I was due to applications, school, and competition, but I’m getting myself back together now. I need to instill good habits early to make sure I can remain healthy once I move away.

I’m lacking motivation when it comes to school simply because it feels like my teachers and peers collectively have given up. I get that we’re seniors, but I don’t understand why that means I should want to stop working. If anything, I feel like that would make the transition to college only that much more difficult. I want to be challenged and I want to grow, and it sucks that it seems like the people around me don’t want to put in the effort to do the same.

As time passes, I’m realizing more and more how difficult it will be to say goodbye to my family. I never anticipated that it would be this way. Growing up, I always had distant relationships with my cousins because of our large age differences, but as I’ve grown and matured, they’ve come to take me more seriously and we’ve grown closer. By the same token, I’m extremely joyed that at the very least, I will have them to call in good times and in bad.

My hard work and dedication in school are coming to fruition, my health is better than it has been in years, I’m happy with myself and the progress I’ve made. Good things are coming; I’m working for them.

Cocoa Hooves

From now on, I am going to try to empty my feelings at least once a week. I really enjoy being able to look back at old posts and see how far I’ve come, and I want to do it more often.

This past week was very good to me. I finally actually got my septum pierced on Tuesday, we finished a good show on Thursday, we’ll be covering a gay pride festival tomorrow. I said my goodbyes to my favorite person, and I feel very at peace. I got a lot off of my chest, and I really am okay.

I need to get back on track with my sugars. I’m scared I’m slipping back into a burnout, but I don’t know how to pull myself out of it. I’ve been having a lot of complications with my insurance and trying to get a new sensor, and that’s really put a damper on my want to take care of myself.

We’re in full-on competition mode now, which makes me both anxious and excited. I am preparing myself to leave everything I have on the table, but the stakes are high and I don’t want to pull an Icarus and fly too close to the sun. Planning the trip is even more stressful than I anticipated (which says a lot), but it also makes me feel incredibly productive and empowered.

I’ve been reading more lately which makes me really, really happy. I can’t believe I forgot the joy and tranquility that books provide.

I have two more college interviews coming up, but after my first one, I’m not that scared anymore.

I graduate in five months. I know I should be excited, and I am, but more than anything I’m scared. I’ve dreamt of graduating and going to college since I was 11, but now that it’s coming so quickly, I don’t know if I’m ready. Then again, will I ever really be ready? I want to be on my own, a free human being with an independent will, but there is SO much I have to worry about that I don’t know I’ll be able to handle it all. Only time will tell.

I’m happy in a way I haven’t been for a while. It’s a calm, quiet happy now. I’m going to make sure it lasts.

HandClap

Inspiration for another tattoo idea hit me: a bird flying out of an open cage. Jane Eyre. “I am a bird; and no net ensnares me.” Sure, the quote says net but a cage is much more aesthetically pleasing. I’m happy I finally found a relevant tattoo in honor of my favorite novel.

My winter break officially ends tomorrow. I’m proud of myself. My last school break was the summer and I was such a mess. Looking back, it pleases me to say I don’t really recognize that person anymore. I got through these two weeks alone for the most part and I got by very well. My own company was enough for once.

I had an interview with a big university yesterday, and although it didn’t go as I expected, I’m honored for having had the opportunity. I applied to a total of 16 schools and by April 1st, I’ll know where I’ll be living in the fall. My hard work is slowly and steadily being acknowledged.

I’ve been finding more time to read which also makes me happy. Books were my first friends and first loves, I’m glad I can still find solace in them.

Competition season is beginning and I can’t wait for the rush of working.

I’m eager for a change of pace. I’m growing in ways I never deemed possible only months ago, but I’m starting to feel, more than ever before, that Miami isn’t enough for me. I doubt I’d like New York very much, but I’m eager for the opportunity to explore it. I’ll be in California in March and although the west coast isn’t very appealing, I’m looking forward to this chance to be somewhere new and inviting. Chicago’s blisteringly cold winters scare me, but I think I’d like its overall atmosphere. DC is calling to me, but I need to see more of the world before I settle down.

I haven’t been to any museums in months; they were a special place of ours. I need an art fix. I might go mudding with some friends, though.

I never, in a million years, thought this would be my life, but I’m very happy for it. I’ve been reflecting on early-2016 the past few days, the carcass of a person that I was during that time, and I’m proud that I was able to pull myself out of that and make something better. I’m a stronger and more independent individual than I was then, and the future is only looking better.

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out

Beginnings are always the hardest part, figuratively and literally.

I think it’s fair to say I’m more emotional than I used to be, but I also think that’s an outward misconception. I’ve always felt these emotions, I’m simply more willing to show them now. I thought I used to cry a lot, but Past Me would be baffled if someone were to tell her how much I cry now. I’ve come to accept it; I think a big source of my conflicts from before were a result of keeping too much bottled up. Cathartic release is essential to a healthy mind, and so I cry heartily and often. It’s comforting to know the tears are not always sad, though.

As of today, I have applied or am in the process of applying to a total of 16 schools. So far, I’ve been accepted to two and deferred from one. I won’t find out about 12 schools until the week I am at national competition, which is totally unfortunate.

I’ve had three people tell me I should write a book, one going so far as to say I should write a memoir. I worry that I’ll never be able to see the potential and talent that so many others seem to see in me. Maybe one day. In a coffee shop. A couple years from now.

I’ve been doing very well lately. I’ve cracked down on myself to check my sugars more often and give my insulin when I’m supposed to. I’ve been having a lot of lows, but I’m going back to my doctor in two weeks so hopefully that will be fixed. Health insurance is still a bitch, and the looming responsibilities of impending adulthood are threatening to overburden me, but I’m hanging in there. Writing helps a lot.

I’m trying to make it a point to make love normal. I know this sounds weird, so let me explain.

As of December 23, 2016, my mother has told me “I love you” three times. My father has said the three magic words only once. I was raised in a household devoid of affection and love, and that has affected me profoundly. I’m not going to let it ruin me any longer. I will be open to love. It will be commonplace for me. I will hug and kiss the ones closest to me, and I will remind them every day of how much they mean to me and how much I value them. Most of all, I will remind myself. The past seven months have been a saga of self-forgiveness and acceptance, and slowly but surely I am learning to love myself. So long as I can be happy with myself, I will be okay.

I am okay.

Survivor

You write when you’re sad, you write when you’re in pain, but mostly you write because you don’t want to live anymore but you’re too scared to die so you exist in this state of in between.

It’s just a bump in the road, Eileen. You’ve been through worse. You can get through this.

You were diagnosed at a year old. You’re getting through it.

Your parents abandoned you when you were seven. You got through it.

Your grandpa died when you were 14. You got through it.

You were raped at 15. You got through it.

You cut for three years. You’ve been clean for five months. You’re getting through it.

You now know the suffering of heartache, a pain wholly unique in and of itself. You can get through it.

Pick yourself up. Wipe the tears away. Do your math homework; or better yet, copy it from Mar. You are okay. You will be okay.

Be happy. You’ve been doing so good for so long. It’s okay to have a bad night, but pick yourself up at the end of it. And for God’s sake, stop crying. Tears never did anything but make your eyes swollen and give you a migraine. Who needs cathartic release.

Plan competition season. Get good grades. Get into college. 2 schools down, 12 more to go. Get more tattoos, fuck what Pelican thinks. Make good art. Do something and be someone you can be proud of. You’ve come so far. Don’t stop yet.

It’s just a bump in the road. A wrinkle in time. The ebb and flow of nature.

Remember the dream of Papá. Know that he’s proud of you, wherever he may be. Know that Mamá loves you and supports you.

Read more books. Listen to more music. Check your sugar more often. Count your carbs right. Get more exercise. Tell good stories.

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be in pain. You’ll be a better person for it in the end. Be more understanding. There’s no such thing as having too much empathy. Be realistic, but hope for the best in people to shine through. Never stop believing that a person can be better than they once were, including yourself. Think better of yourself.

You can get through it Eileen. Be your own supporter for once. Stop tearing yourself down.

Chin up now, pip pip.

Water Under the Bridge

I think I’m due for a brief life update.

I’m doing okay. I’ll hesitantly even go as far as to say I’m doing good. I’ve been struggling a little on what to do with my alone time, since I seem to have an abundance of it now. I spend a lot of that time sleeping, though I don’t know if that’s to catch up on the sleep I miss during the school week or it’s the depression. I’m not lacking motivation anywhere near how I was during my bad months a while back, but every now and then it’s particularly difficult to get out from under my covers.

Recently, I told myself that it’s okay to be sad and I just have to ride out the wave whenever it comes, because only then will I be able to truly appreciate the times that I’m motivated and energetic and content. It’s a sensitive balance, but I really do think I’m managing it okay.

Things with Pretty Boy fell apart so fast, it’s hilarious honestly. I’ll spare the details, but I learned two things from that experience: 1. I’m (almost) ready to date again. 2. I’m terrified no one will compare to Ex Boyfriend.

It’s the second lesson that has been particularly eating at me, no matter how hard  I try to send it to the back of my mind.

December is 7 months since I broke up with him. The beginning was grueling; I had no idea how to be my own person. I had no knowledge of my personality or how to change it, had no concept of my personal aspirations, and I generally didn’t know how to live as my own person.

Since then, I have worked slowly and diligently to create a person out of the shell I so long inhabited, and I am so proud of my progress. I’ve learned it’s especially important to praise yourself as much, if not more, as you critique yourself, so I don’t feel ashamed to admit that I’m proud.

I was lower than rock bottom at the start of 2016, and I didn’t really start to come out of that rut until just a couple of months ago.

In the beginning, I missed him with a weight and pain that threatened to crush me. I definitely do still miss him now, almost more I’d say, but in a different way. I don’t miss the attention or affection as much as I did in the beginning, though there are moments I long to bury my face in his neck or pull on the hairs at the back of his head, but more than that I miss his company. He was my closest and most valuable confidant. I miss our lengthy conversations about nothing and everything. I miss the way we could communicate with each other just by glance, without having to say a single word. I miss the hours spent together without speaking, just enjoying each other’s quiet company. The times I dream about him, I wouldn’t say that I’m happier, but that I’m consumed by this overwhelming sense of peace. When I wake up from the dreams, that peace is immediately what I realize is missing.

I know who I am God damn it. I know what I want, and I have intricate plans for how to get there. I’m taking care of myself, I’m expanding my relentless pursuit of knowledge, and I am growing more comfortable with myself and my body with every passing day. I know (I KNOW) I’m bound to meet incredible and inspiring and exhilarating people when I go to college, but I’m truly scared I’ll never stop wanting or needing him.

August 20, 2014. You walked into the studio with your schedule change in hand to show to Pelican. It was the third day of school and I was going mad trying to finish the first show. I had just stepped down from the stage where the anchors’ desk was mounted when I looked over and saw you and stopped in my tracks. I’m sure I could go back to the studio and point to the exact spots where both you and I were standing. I didn’t see your face from the front, only profile, which is where you got the platypus name from (when I look at you from the side, your chin does this thing that makes you look like a platypus, I’m sorry). You never saw me, but I swear on my life and my heart and my brain and everything that matters to me that I felt a pull, as if a string connected us to each other. You know how I am about my gut feelings, and this time there was a voice in the back of my head that just said “You need to know him, be close to him. This one’s important.” Nothing, nothing, nothing eats at me more than this single memory does. Nothing.

 

I needed to get that off my chest. There are still things I keep bottled, no matter how much I talk or vent. This memory is a weight that follows me around, almost whispering that I can’t let you go no matter how hard I try. I’m sorry.

On the Nature of Daylight

I’ve been struggling as of late to decide on what major I’d like to pursue once I enter college, and I can already see that this struggle will persist for a long time. I’ve sifted through being a law clerk to lawyer to editor to journalist, and while journalism has been where I’ve felt the closest to finding a niche, I still don’t think I’m there yet.

I love language- specifically English-, anything and everything having to do with grammar and how humans as a species communicate with each other. I love dissecting what a person is saying not just by the words they use, but by how their body reacts and how their pitch influences meaning and how they order their sentence and what implications that may have on expression.

I’ve read books passionately and vigorously since the fourth grade, eager to down as many words and pages in one sitting as possible. Always expanding my ever-growing capacity for empathy, I developed a burning love for reading. My room is quite literally crowded with hundreds of books stuffed in every nook and cranny possible. I haven’t read a third of the books I own, and yet I still buy more. I love having the ability to immerse myself in alternate realities, become a totally different and oftentimes more compelling or charismatic person, and I deeply appreciate that in turn along the way, I pick up certain traits and aspects that mold me into a more understanding person. All of this is done through the power of language and communication.

I just saw the movie Arrival with a small group of friends tonight and a major premise of the film is on language. Coming out of the film, I know that I need to take a linguistics course when I go to college. This is so much more than a desire at this point, it feels more like a necessity to see if this is what finally clicks for me, if this is what will finally feel right.

I love journalism because it provides me an outlet through which I can communicate with people, deliver ideas and messages, and ultimately bring people together. Where I struggle is in the stigma against journalism, and how dirty the work can often be. It also doesn’t always fulfill my artistic nature (though mostly pushed to the background in my daily life, it’s definitely there).

For now, I’ll take what I can get, and journalism is my best bet.I made a promise to myself (and to very close people around me) to never settle for anything less than extraordinary, and I am set on holding true to that promise. Hopefully sooner rather than later I will finally find what makes me feel alive.