A Time To Be So Small

The past two weeks have been the epitome of hyper coasters.

Crush-boy became boyfriend on Monday, and I can strongly state that this was one of the best weeks I have had in quite a while, especially in terms of my anxiety and depression. I feel like I’ve known him for years when in reality I’ve known him for only a handful of weeks.

Yesterday we went on a date to Miami’s Art District, entered a couple of galleries and walked around the Wynwood Walls with his camera in hand, him snapping candids of me against the pieces of artwork every opportunity he had. It was the most incredible date I have ever been taken on.

Getting home that night, however, was a completely different story. We got home much later than expected because we ended up going into a later movie than planned with the rest of our friends, due to Annabelle being rated-R and only one of us being 17 years old. To say that my parents were furious and ballistic is an understatement. I’ll spare the details, telling only that I am basically under lockdown. I had the sort of anxiety attack last night where people are taken to the hospital for, but as always, I had to stick it out alone.

I’m not entirely sure why but words have been failing me lately. I have been having a decidedly more and more difficult time formulating words in an order that accurately conveys my feelings, likewise with drawing. Nothing seems to be coming out right, and I don’t know how to fix it.



Today is Day 2 of my vacation and it was such a self-esteem boosting kind of day, even though it didn’t start out too great.

Basically, in the morning, I miscalculated my carbs for breakfast and my sugar dropped as soon as we walked into Universal. I was worried because we were rushing to the new Harry Potter area, and with my dad being a tremendous fanatic of Harry Potter, I knew it would be entirely up to me to treat my low. After walking into 3 different stores and still not coming up with anything to raise my sugar, I was starting to panic and my parents were no help whatsoever. My breathing was starting to become labored and finally, as soon as we walked into Diagon Alley, I bought an orange juice at a shop in there (very good by the way, they put brown sugar around the rim of the cup and it was delicious).

The day continued and started brightening up, despite the weather becoming progressively cloudier. My day really brightened when a trio of workers from the Harry Potter area walked past where I was seated waiting for the parade, looked at me and told me I was beautiful. It was just a passing comment, and it floored me because I really wasn’t expecting it, and it was impossible for me to keep the grin off of my face during the duration of the parade as dancers and people dressed in the costumes continuously came up to me, kissing my hand and hugging me. That entire experience really did wonders on my self esteem and I just still feel so good.

Really, it was mostly feeling like I am beautiful even despite my sensor. The entire time I’ve been on the sensor now, the one feeling that has yet to go away is that the sensor will make me less attractive than I am. I see it as a flaw that an endless number of people will not have but I do. Now, after today, I am fully prepared for Saturday when we go to Islands and I take off my shirt to go on the water rides. I don’t care what people think of my sensor (for now); my sensor is a part of me and it makes me no more or less of a person than I am without it. If someone has an issue with it, that’s their problem.

I had to take my sensor off of my back last night after getting to the hotel from a day spent in Hollywood Studios and Epcot. In the shower, it completely peeled off due to issues with the adhesive patch. It’s back on my stomach, although it is placed much higher on my abdomen in hopes that I manage to avoid it getting caught under harnesses. It was trapped today under the lap bar on Rip Ride Rockit, and although it was by no means a pleasant experience, it was bearable.

I feel good. Really, really good. I haven’t felt this good in a really long time, such a long time I almost want to cry because of it.


This week has been quite a roller coaster, and not the pleasant kind. I fell really badly, in an emotional way, especially the last three days. If I let myself think for long enough, my heart starts pounding and my lungs forget that oxygen is their friend and my hands start shaking and I become a mess, so I’ve been trying to not think to much. As you can expect, this hasn’t been working too well.

I’m proud to say I didn’t resort to self harm after such a slump. It was disheartening that my good moods seemed to become a thing of the past as the days progressed, but I kept myself together enough to not break out the razor stashed in my drawer, and if anything good happened this week, it was that. I truly am proud of myself for that. I think it’s a sign that I do have the willpower to get better, I just need to remind myself of that willpower every now and then. I know that had I had a week like this one a year ago, my thighs would be a bloody mess right now.

My would-be(?) significant other leaves tomorrow for three weeks to another continent and that has me in shambles. As much as I try to deny it, I do still have feelings for her, strong ones, that seem more vibrant and fresh every time we’re together. I’m just completely fed up with feeling like she probably never had the same feelings towards me as I do for her. I’m sick of the one-sidedness of our relationship. As much as I’ve been trying to suppress my feelings, however, they surfaced today with a vengeance. It just really brings me down, the thought that while she’s away for the next three weeks, I will miss her terribly, but I know she probably won’t be missing me.

I really wish my mom would listen to my pleas of getting me a psychologist. I have the willpower to get better, I just need some pushing and prodding, and really just someone to talk to. It’s sad that I feel like the only person I may feel comfortable talking to is being paid to listen to me complain, but hey people pay for worse things.

Here’s to hoping for a better week.

Always Malaise

On a much more somber note, I’m feeling my once-usual whirlwind of emotions after being stood up by my best friend to go bowling. I don’t understand why I’m as butt-hurt as I am, but I guess since I took the time to sort out an outfit and put on a full face of makeup, I would have appreciated a bit more forewarning to the cancellation of our plans. A reason for the cancellation would have been appreciated as well.

This also has me thinking about my would-be significant other. I’d love to know where we stand. I’d love it if she wouldn’t disappear for (up ’til now) three days. I’d love if she wouldn’t make me feel embarrassed about the things I like or the way I think. She is quickly becoming the most judgmental person I know, and quite honestly, I don’t like it. Something in her has changed. I was so used to her witty mannerism and, although she’s always been quick to judge, she never went overboard. Now, it’s like she doesn’t care whose feelings she hurts. I don’t even matter anymore, it seems like, and that really doesn’t sit well with me.

My diabetes has been completely out of hand. I really cannot find it in me to care about it long enough to check my sugar or inject, and believe me, I know exactly how unhealthy this is. I’m surprised I haven’t had to be rushed to the hospital yet, but I know that day is quickly approaching, and the sad part is I feel no motivation whatsoever to keep that from happening.

I just want people to quit canceling on me all the time, I want people to stop forgetting about me, and I want my pancreas to work the way it’s supposed to just so I can get rid of one reason why I hate myself.

I had been doing a lot better, I was seeing a noticeable difference in my behavior and attitude and I was really excited about it. I was still having my not-so-pleasant thoughts, but they were becoming easier to tuck away. Now they all rushed back to the surface at once and I have no idea what to do about it and I wish someone, anyone, cared long enough to help me. I really cannot fix myself.

Memory Serves

Day 17- Your favorite memory, in great detail

My favorite memory is one with my grandpa. I was 4 years old, and like every other day, I was at my grandparents’ house while my parents were working. During this time, my doctors had ordered that I walk for at least half an hour each day because it would help with my diabetes. On this day, for a reason I no longer remember, I was particularly tired when it was time for my walk. Every day, I’d go walking around my grandparents’ apartment complex with my grandpa. On this day, my grandma decided to join us as well. I told my grandpa I was tired, so he got the cart that he used when we’d go grocery shopping, put some blankets and a pillow on the base of it, picked me up and placed me inside of the cart and proceeded to push me around the apartment complex in the grocery cart. He told me to not worry, he’d tell my mom I had actually walked.

Walking was good for my grandparents as well, their doctors telling them that fresh air is nature’s best medicine, which is why we still went walking despite me sitting. 

It’s memories like this one that remind me of the wonderful person my grandpa he was and how much he loved me. My grandpa was a man of little to almost no words, but he didn’t need words to express his love. My grandpa loved me so much. I’ll miss him for forever and a day.

All Of the Ways (I Love You)

Day 5- Your definition of love, in great detail

I think love is when you look at a person, and they seem to glow as though there were a light shining behind them, illuminating them. Love is taking someone’s shit, taking every ounce of it, putting up with all of their bad parts because their good outweighs their bad. Love is drawing and feeling the stress coiling around your muscles lift. It’s opening GMail and finding an e-mail from your favorite teacher asking if you’re okay because he noticed you were down in class that day. It’s extreme wedgies from your best friends, reminders that not everyone shows love the same way you do. It’s a new book, with it’s new book smell, on your desk when you get home from school- a surprise, the best of its kind. It’s your grandfather having pictures of you and your cousins and your aunts and uncles in his wallet until the day he was taken to the hospital and didn’t come back- it’s your picture being the biggest one.

Love is giving yourself away completely, knowing full well you will be hurt, but welcoming the pain because God it’s worth it.

Love is your grandfather saving coins for you in his empty medicine bottles because he made a habit of giving you any spare change he had every time you went to visit, because he knew you’d save it and spend it carefully. It’s the medicine bottle that was half filled and never completed.

Love is teachers who treat you like well-minded human beings, and not simply inferiors. Teachers who are your friends as much as they are your superior.

Love is one of your pillars giving you glow-in-the-dark-stars, the ones you put on your ceiling, because he knows you have a lot of nightmares and they may be a small source of comfort to you. Love is your other pillar promising to wait for you because she doesn’t want your relationship to be meaningless.

Love is getting kicked in the head by a fat crowd-surfer and getting a black eye all to watch your favorite band play.

Love is putting someone or something before yourself, always. Nothing matters, but them.

Love is also letting go. Love is pain, and love is hurt, and love is hate. Love is hate because sometimes, the only way to love someone is to also hate them, and sometimes, the only way to love yourself is to have hated yourself.