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Yo I'm 21 now.

Ain't that some shiiiiiiiit.

now hang me up to dry

I should probably document my college life more so than my high school one. I was so into journaling back in the day, and I guess I really should get on this.

It's hard to believe I'm a junior in college, and I'm getting ready to apply for grad school and all that jazz.In some ways it seems like I just graduated high school, but that, too, is becoming a fading memory (and for that I am glad). I'm starting to view my life in more "chapters" or "sections" rather than one continuous spectrum, and I think that helps to deal with some things. Like, when people ask me what the worst time of my life was, I quantify it to February 2010-January 2012. Almost two years, and there were definitely some good things in there, but, for the most part, I made some terrible decisions in those two years time. I finally got my life together in 2012, and it feels pretty damn good. On Friday, I found out I was accepted into the psychology honors program, which really makes me feel good about myself. I'm finally back to the student I always knew I was.

I paused this entry to write about the space jump and that was AMAZING! Glad I could watch history be made.

Anyways. I might be going somewhere with my love life. Maybe? Who knows. I take it one step at a time. :)

Probs should get rid of some of my lj icons with Tara though. lulz. Those were da days fo sho. jk. Anyways. She actually might still read this so shout out to you, TearBear, and can't wait to see you at Rossy's party.

Yeah I'm going to a Halloween party that my ex is also going to. Funny because she usually refuses to show up at events I'm going to. I guess we'll see what happens. I will be drunk, but not too drunk, so let's hope I can keep my mouth shut. After all, I did leave her "because I was cheating on her and I wanted to do drugs," according to her, so I guess if I'm a sloppy drunk it'll just live up to those expectations. lulz lulz lulz. I can't even do anything but lulz because my life is ridiculous. I want to be back in Boston with my bff just living the damn dream. The dream being eating Dunkin and Nancy Drew and shizz.

So that's about it. Should probably go do psych of women reading. Peaceeeee.
Fuck you and your untouchable face.

Fuck you for existing in the first place.

And who am I, to be vying for your touch?

Who am I? Can somebody tell me that much.


Tell you the truth, I prefer the worst of you.

Too bad you had to have a better half.

He's not really my type, but I think you two are forever.

And I hate to say it, but I think you're perfect together.

So fuck you.

vacation all i ever wantedddd

So after six years of internet chats and HerInteractive postings, I finally flew up to Boston to meet one of my closest friends, Kelly.

It's only day three and I'm having more fun than I did all summer.

Tuesday, her parents and she picked me up from the airport and we went back to New Hampshire where her parents live. I couldn't believe my eyes! They live on the coast and it's absolutely beautiful. I really need to learn some new vocabulary because I really only say "Thank you," "That's so nice," "This is cool," and "Wow!" I guess I'm just overwhelmed. I'm the country girl from Western PA whose cost of living is almost in the negatives coming to a place like New England. Kelly's parents are so... nice (see what I mean?). They've treated me so often here. Example, Kelly and I came out to Boston for a couple days and her mom literally said "Here's $143. Have a good time!" My eyes: o.O. My voice: "Thank you so much!" Since they've been so generous, I actually might have money left for school supplies... who knew! I'm going to get them a thank you card before I go.

Things we've done so far: go to the beach, go to Maine, went shopping, tried on slutty clothes at Charlotte Russe, got laughed at by French-Canadians at Charlotte Russe, had delicious pizza, played Nancy Drew, went to the beach (again), got beach lemonade, got fried dough, got ice cream. Took the commuter rail into Boston. Took the T to Kelly's apartment. Went to the Cheesecake Factory (my first time!), went to the Prudential Center, shopped (window shopped) at Saks Fifth Avenue, couldn't believe my eyes. Bought Arizona teas, watched "But I'm A Cheerleader!" and fell asleep.

And so that brings us to today. I'm typing this entry, Kelly is playing some Tool and AIC she transposed for piano, and we'll eventually get ready to go meet up with Kaella! woo. Then I'm hoping to head over to Chinatown. We'll seeeeeeee. So there's that.


I'm wide awake

Katy Perry's new song is playing in the background as I write this. It seems appropriate as I'm currently unable to sleep because I took an extended nap earlier.

So, this summer is close to being over (kinda [thank God]). I honestly am so excited for my junior year of college to start and ready for me to kick ass again. I changed my schedule around for the semester so I'll be taking physiological psychology, psychology of women, criminological research methods, research writing, and junior honors core, my last section of honors core. I can't believe I'm already close to being done with core; it seems like I just finished up the SHP version of it. But here I am, 132 days shy of being 21, a grown woman, a "big girl." Crazy. I know I'm still young in relative terms, but to be honest, I never thought I'd live this long. I've been through a lot of shit in my two decades of living, and it was almost enough to break me.

I've also come to terms with being single (finally). As in, I don't cry myself to sleep anymore/hate myself. What's done is done, and it happened for a reason. I don't hurt anymore, and I finally put myself first in my life. I honestly have never felt better. This summer has been all about me and I feel great because of it. No women, no practically step-children... just me, myself, and I. It's great. Juliana came and lived with me in June for a summer program and we had a great time. Then when she left SHP started, and now I've just been hanging out with my friend Kirstie while she makes me delicious vegetarian dinners. August 10th is my last day of work, August 14th I leave for Boston, I come back the 21st, and then August 27th school starts. Wheeeeee.

My apartment is coming along swimmingly. Amber is coming to get her stuff the 31st, so then I'll have some time to clean before Adam comes up when I'm in Boston. I got some new sheets. They are pink and black. At this point, I'm just kinda writing in stream of consciousness style so sorry to anyone besides me actually bothering to read this.

Speaking of being a big girl (I know this was like three paras ago), I'm starting the grad school search. I'm almost positive I want to go into School Psychology, but now I just have to decide if I want to go for a master's or doctorate or somewhere inbetween. Because I'm so on the goddamn ball with college, I actually only need 34 credits to graduate after this fall, and my average course load is 17 credits per semester. That's two semesters of required course materials left, except I'm here for three. I have to sign my apartment lease for the whole year, and most graduate programs don't start until the summer, so it's stupid to graduate early rather than with my class. So, I have some time to take classes that interest me... OR start graduate level classes! Since IUP offers a school psychology program, I thought it'd be awesome to take some while still at an undergraduate level in order to get a feel for the field. I'm getting excited about that, too. Lots of things to look forward to.

mmmm and that's about it. Peace.
On occasion, I like to go back through this journal and see how life has changed over six years. Seriously, six years! Where does the time go? I remember making this journal at the end of my eighth grade year, thinking how old I was that my middle school years were terminating and I was now old enough to be in high school. Although I was only 14, I think this was one of the first times I felt like an adult. I personally don't think I've changed that much in six years, but when I was 14, six years prior would have been when I was 8. There's a huge difference between being eight and being fourteen, so I suppose something substantial changes from 14 to 20. So what are these things?

Well, I'm no longer straight edge. That was a big thing for me back in the day, mainly because my dad was a detrimental drunk and I never wanted to be like that. But I'm more like my father than I'll ever want to admit. I saw this in my first relationship and it terrified me. Still terrifies me. I don't want to be like that. I don't. My dad's started drinking again, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. So far (to my knowledge) he hasn't been drunk, just has a shot or two when he goes out. But had I known this when I was 14, I probably would have just died inside.

The past six years has been a roller coaster of emotions. I've experience all sorts of things: lust, anger, sadness, happiness, and mainly depression, which sucks, but you deal. One of the things I've learned about myself is that I'm never content. I tried telling myself that getting a 4.0 this semester would make me ecstatic, and it did, but for about five minutes. Now I'm bored and discontent again. I really should start studying for the GRE. Currently, I'm at work writing this. I decided to stay in Indiana, PA, where I go to school, for multiple reasons. One, my hometown is a shithole. Since breaking up with Tara, I have 1.2 friends at home, maybe 1.7 if we count my family (yes, they do not count as a whole person). Two, if I would live at home, I'd have to work at the convenience store, which would kill me. Literally. There's so much drug use around that place that I may in fact step on a needle infected with HIV and then I would be dead. Three, my mother's house is being foreclosed upon, so who knows where her and my sisters will wind up. Four, I have a full-time work study job at the library here on campus. It's nice in the summer because I literally do things like read, play Bingo on Facebook, play Nancy Drew, and write this livejournal entry and still get paid $7.25/hr. 40 hrs. a week. My supervisor doesn't sexually harass me, so that's an added bonus, and she's trying to use as much of her allotted work study money as she can before June. Therefore, I work A LOT. So, what number are we on now? Right, five: I'm doing research with a professor on campus. And finally, six, my mother recently told me to "drop dead" and "stay the fuck out of her life" because I told her to not swear at my younger sister. So I haven't spoken to her since then.

I'm pretty much a big girl now. I work 40 hrs, I have my own apartment, I pay rent, my car is in my name, and therefore my car insurance is in my name. Let me tell you, it's fucking hard working a minimum wage job and paying for all of this, but through frugality, I'm getting by. As much as some weird vortex is pulling me in and wanting me to go back home, I know if I resist the feeling I'll be better off. There's something so odd about western PA. Everyone trash talks it, but yet, as soon as they get out, they're dying to come back. And if you graduate college and come back to take some time off, you NEVER leave. You stay working a dead-end job and then your degree goes to waste. It's sad. But I refuse to let that happen to me.

I think this entry is enough for today. I'll probably be writing more frequently throughout the summer to get my thoughts out and put everything down. We'll see.

regrets collect like old friends

I'm feeling some type of way right now, so maybe I should write it out.

Over the past two years, life has changed so dramatically for me. This time in 2009, I was getting ready to direct my senior play, not knowing what was in front of me. I kept my eye on one thing and one thing only: June 4, 2010.

I didn't realize then how much life would change.

I believe everything happens for a reason. That events occur so we as individuals become stronger people, better people, caring people. So I attempt to keep this in mind when I feel like a complete and utter disgrace and failure. Even though a lot of people try to give me advice, I usually don't listen because I am stubborn, so in the end I have no one to blame but myself.

The biggest issue that's bothering me currently (keep in mind, it's 6:15 in the morning, I haven't gone to bed yet, and I'm wide awake, so I really don't have anything else to do but to think and reminisce) is ending my relationship with my friend Barbara. This summer, I met her through this LGBT meetup group Tara and I were in, and she seemed like a really cool chick to hang out with. Hello, the more lesbians/bi girls, the better, obvs. So when I came back from Turkey and Greece, Tara and I went over there to watch her puppies be born. It wasn't too long after that day that we started talking and becoming friends.

One day towards the end of June, B texted Tara saying that her husband wasn't sure if she loved her anymore, so he had left to go live in an apartment by himself. At this point, Tara and mine's relationship was rapidly deteriorating. So, at the beginning of July, I broke up with Tara and essentially moved in with Barbara. I basically lived there this summer when I wasn't working, helping her out with the puppies and her two kids, James and Alyssa. James will be 7 this week and Alyssa is 12. They essentially became like my little brother and sister.

Overtime, I started to develop feelings for B. And who wouldn't after you become someone's emotional support and lifeline for three months? We slept in the same bed and cuddled every night, but after a while, I couldn't just be friends. B kept trying to tell me she couldn't pursue anything with me because of Derek, her husband, whom she was convinced had a brain tumor or something wrong with him and that was the reason he left her. Since B can be a little... histrionic... I tried telling her that he was just a douchebag and to not worry about it.

So here's where things get a little messy, thanks to my roaring libido. Because I found her attractive, sleeping in the same bed with her for nights on end was killing me. I mean, I didn't want to just fuck her on the first night her husband left her. That wasn't my intention at all. But when her and Derek were together, they often had a second woman involved because she enjoyed it and he enjoyed it even more. So he didn't care if she slept with other women throughout their marriage; he actually was really turned on by the idea. Because I knew this, eventually it got really hard for me to not.. well, want to fuck, to put it bluntly. And I say "fuck" because that's exactly what it would be. No feelings sans the incredible lust I had for her. But I wasn't in love with her. Not then.

We ended up having sex... and I'm not going to lie, it was the best fucking sex I've ever had. I was really excited by having the idea of a friend with benefits, especially since she was so cool. I enjoyed being single, and I wanted to experiment. So cool. She's DTF, I'm DTF, all good all good.

So I start doing more things with her and the kids. No prob, she feels deserted due to Derek the douche. I essentially become surrogate parent/older sister. I talk to James and Alyssa about how they feel, and I play with them and help around the house more than their parents ever did. I'm Superman of this family. All fine and dandy... right?

Except when she started rejecting me for sex. At first, if I tried to initiate anything (which takes A LOT on my part), she would just kind of shrug it off and fall asleep. I'd be a little disappointed, but with everything going on, I could understand how she felt. So I try not to feel too disappointed. Days go by, and I'm over there with even more frequency. She and I talk, and I try to explain my side of things, but she's "too upset about Derek" to help me out. No big deal.

Obviously, I'm a smart girl. After summer ended and I started school, I could tell I was being used. It had been three months since Derek left her, and I was expected to be the surrogate spouse, but she didn't want to give me any of the emotion or love she gave to him. She only wanted me to "destress her" and make her feel better while I still felt lousy about myself.

We found out in September that Derek had Stage IV lung and brain cancer, which would explain his sudden personality change and migraines. To be honest, I'm still not sure how I feel about this. I'm not sure how he feels about me.

The week before I came home for Thanksgiving, she went out with friends to Pittsburgh, and ended up having a threesome. Which I found out due to her bragging to me about it through text.

That's when I started to get angry.

You don't fucking use me all goddamn summer, tell me you're "too upset for sex," then go fuck two people who you barely know. I'm not going to lie. I felt like complete and utter shit then. Okay, so I'm good enough to clean your house and take care of your kids but I'm not good enough to sleep with you?

Her reply was, "Well, I don't want to ruin our friendship."

Writing this and recollecting just makes me so angry. Not even sad. Just so fucking angry that I wasted my whole summer helping her... and for what. Nothing. She doesn't appreciate what I did.

Ever since that text, things just went downhill. I went over to her house as soon as I left school the Friday before Thanksgiving. I didn't even go to my house first. I was so happy to see the kids and her that it didn't matter. She had some friends over, two clients of hers (she's a massage therapist), and so we were all drinking wine and just having a good time.

At one point, I fake punched her because she was teasing me, and, after 36 hours of no sleep at that point (gotta love all the tests right before break), I was getting a little testy. She asked me why I was getting cranky and I jokingly said "Because I'm 19." She then retorts, "Oh, right. Larry and I talked about that. We both agreed that I have to remember you're 19 and not fully emotionally mature yet."

It literally took me all I could to bite back my tongue and not say anything. I'm not fully emotionally mature, yet I'm fucking mature enough to take care of you and your two kids while your husband is off rediscovering himself before he dies? That one statement absolutely ruined my night.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, she texted me a picture of Derek on the couch telling me how much she missed him and blah blah... I kinda responded with one word answers, because she knew that hurt me and upset me, but she didn't care. She told me to fuck off (because at this point, she was wasted and I was in no mood to deal with her drunkenness) and I completely lost it. I went berserk and flipped out. I called her every name in the book sans "cunt," but I think I made up for it by telling her to go burn in hell. Usually when we would get into a disagreement through text (which happened frequently) I would piss her off by remaining calm and collected (or, as she liked to call it, being a "pretentious psych major"), but this time, I could not restrain myself. I was so angry and mad at myself and her. How could I let someone use me like that? How could she do that to me? I kept bringing up how she said I was emotionally immature, and how I suppose I was proving it by losing control. I told her to go cry to Larry the next time she saw him because I didn't give a shit anymore. The last thing I said to her was "I hope you realize someday what I gave up for you this summer. But you won't. Bye."

I went to block her on Facebook and found she had already blocked me because my blow up made her "nervous." Which then made me even more angry because she was assuming I'd do something to hurt her or the kids, which never in my life would  I ever do. I love those kids more than anything, and that's currently what's killing me. I miss them so much. And I know they miss me, too. And now I'll never be able to talk to them simply because their mother is a cunt who manipulated me this summer.

And that's my summer in a nutshell. My life. It's easy not to miss Barbara, but boy do I miss those kids. I have lots of photos of them in my Facebook albums, and it's pretty hard to look at them knowing I'll never have any contact with them. It's almost like, do I put myself at risk again for their sake or do I just stay out? I think I know the answer to that. We all do. It wasn't fair to them to be introduced to me like this and then suddenly pulled out of their lives like nothing.

I gotta remember life goes on, and soon I will have my own family and own kids. I just hope James and Alyssa remember all the great times we had together, and no matter what Barbara says to them about me, they still hold a high opinion of me because I took the time to care about them when their parents were too distracted to.

I have to go home next weekend, and to be honest, unless I can keep myself busy, I don't know how I'm not going to want to drive over there. I know I need to stay strong and not apologize until she does first, which may be a while. Or never. But I do have books of hers that I need to get back. I suppose I could mail them, but I really just want resolution.

One week.
Hey, remember that time I had two papers due so I thought it was best to go through my entire livejournal?

I sure do! :)
women. what is it about them; can't live with them or without themmmmmmmmm.

All I can say is I am so excited to become a psychologist so I can help people without hurting myself. i.e. client/professional ethics and such.

I'm single now, but find myself emotionally involved with a woman who I really shouldn't be with. She doesn't want me, per se, but she needs someone as an emotional crutch while her douche estranged husband goes out and tries to find himself. In all honesty I can't see them being together much longer. But it's really up in the air. And once he's come back, I'm replaced, gone without a trace yet a-fucking-gain.




Three for three.

Fuck them.

Apr. 10th, 2011

Two people I knew from my hometown died in a horrific car accident yesterday. The boy graduated a year ahead of me and the girl, whom I was closer to, was a senior at the neighboring school.

They were making a really sharp turn and just went too fast.. . and they smashed head first into the car that was passing them, which happened to be my high school psych teacher and his family. They're all alive, but his wife has some serious injuries and he has a broken arm and leg.

Stephen and Mary Jess's car caught fire after the accident, so had they been alive after the collision, they were burned to death.

I'm sorry that this is so graphic. But I'm really having a hard time with dealing with this. I wasn't close with Stephen or Mary, but I always saw her around. She was pretty active on Facebook, so I would always see her liking my statuses or commenting on something my sister posted. My sister is having a pretty rough time. When the fair would come around, her and Mary Jess would walk around together.

I feel bad for feeling so bad about this and making it about me. Obviously there are so many more people who knew them better than I did and are going to have to deal with this. But I honestly travel that same road, that same curve, almost every day when I'm home. Going from work to home and vice versa, I'd go drive on it every day. And I do the same exact thing they did. Instead of slowing down, I travel towards the middle of the road and then keep going. This could have happened to me.

But why did it have to happen to two families of the most caring people I know? Mary had so much going for her. She was about to graduate. She was about to go to Disney with the marching band for her first time. She was going to college.

She liked my Facebook status less than 24 hours before she died.

I've been sick most of today. I haven't had someone relatively close to me die since I was about six. I don't want to even think about this.

I have so many regrets. I wish I would have told Mary Jess how much I appreciated it when she liked my posts about my sisters. She was so goddamn nice, and all I ever did was make fun of her behind her back because I thought it was weird. But it's not weird. It's fucking beautiful. It's so rare when someone has such a radiant personality that they want to share it with everyone they know, even people like me who she didn't even know.

This is so fucking hard. I've always believed that everything happens for a reason, but I am struggling so fucking hard to believe that right now. 

Dostoevsky was right. "It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return him the ticket." Fuck this world and all the pain it brings. Why must we go through so much pain to realize what beauty is, only when it's too late?