Posted 5/18/2007 1:39 AM (GMT 0)
So I came home from California; and on the 4 1/2 hour plane then the 1 1/2 drive home I did a lot of thinking. I thought I grew out of the blogging every aspect of my life phase but just like Beyonce` once said "i feel i have a lot to scream about it" so here it goes . .. as the tears roll down
Ash and i were talking - -- if you were to write your life story where would you begin? Here's the beginning excert out of my journal from August 2006, because we all know my goal in life is to write a story about my life....
"Where to start? I'm officially moving onward at Kent, battling anorexia and skin cancer. Dealing with fake friends, new boys and family drama. Not to mention work jerks and college being a repeat of high school. So where does a girl with cut wrists and a bruised heart begin?
Begins with the birth story - right? Start from the beginning? September 27th 1986, Two weeks late and 72 hours later Brittani Kay, me, came into the world. A waste of life or though I feel sometimes. My first baby pic, my middle finger is up and a very saddened look on my face; a minor indication that I don't want to be here. Who would have thought 19 years, almost 20 years later, this beautiful baby - -- the baby girl her mother always hoped for would have slit wrists, tear stained cheeks, and skeletal figure. That she would be anorexic, depressed, a cancer patient, and a victim of date rape. A girl who's mother took her own life, a girl that lost her life long best friend; the girl who has constant nightmares and screams in her sleep. A girl who can't trust and could, but can't hate her mom. Is this the beautiful baby a parent hopes for? How about the one a mother turns her back on and her father ignores her. A girl trying to find herself in messed up world. A girl who hopes of one day getting out of this god-forsaken place.
I'm that girl! The one who cries on the inside but holds her smile. The one so beautiful on the outside, but so ugly and bruised underneath it all. The one who pretends not to care, but wears her heart on her sleeve and is so lonely on the inside.........."
Everyone thinks things so personal shouldn't be shared. I agree. But you bite your tongue and hide behind your imagine - - - and everyone hates you for the life you live. I would hand my life to someone! I would give up my life to save another! Growing up feeling unwanted; watching and dealing with verbal/physical abuse. Finding your mom after she's commited suicide and the feeling of the demons in the house as you walk in. Having someone steal your innocence from you, and knowing its something you'll never get back. Dreaming your life-long best friend dies, and then two weeks later she does. Hearing the news your little brother won't live to be five. Being seperated from your little sister, your own flesh and blood for majority of your life. Feeling unloved and never being good enough. Being told I'm a thick girl, my clothes don't look right, being called a sl_t. Always being teased and tormented because you were the girl with bad style, big glasses, and a high-pitched laugh. Being one of the most hated girls in my high school & being ruined by rumors. That's a perfect life right? So why do I want to get out of here so bad? You tell me.
There are days I wake up, and wonder why my cancer hasn't killed me. Why is it taking my hair, my skin tone, my strength - but not my life? I've suffered a lot more than a 20 year old should. Knowing I could die anyday is a scary thought; so I've decided to live my life very VERY spontaneously since I found out. I've traveled a lot, blew my money, and began to wear my heart on my sleeve - which is making me heartless because I start to feel pain I never wanted to experience again. There's a reason I don't believe in love & this is why. I never needed a guy to break my heart; my heart was always broken enough for everything else. Growing up without my mom during my teenage years. Never having a mom to help pick out my homecoming dress; or all those other girlie things mom-daughters do. Not having my mom around has been my biggest depressant of all! To feel you're the biggest disappointment in your parent's life, to never have her there to support you or come to anything, or to ever keep her promises. Go without a phone call or card on your birthday. I have the biggest broken heart from the person who is supposed to be the most influencial person in my life. She'll never understand how much i love her or how much i need her & its a sad thought she won't be there to help me pick out my wedding gown whenever that guy/time comes. . .. . If only she knew and realized how much effort I have made and now I'm just waiting for her to come back to me.... Sometimes I feel as if my dad and my little brother are all I have left & I don't want it to be that way.
So overall.. . . .
. i'm a mess! .
. i miss my mom.
. i hate cancer & fightin it.
. i fell for a boy & i risked everything for him .
. tired of having BIG dreams of living in California .
. i hate not being able to smile for real .
. tired of living in paranoia everyday .
. hate having stretchs-marks on my hips .
. i hate how i feel every day .
. hate the fact i've had an addiction to pills and cutting .
. hate admitting I have been in rehab & it didn't really help.
. tired of having reoccuring nightmares of the night i was raped .
. tired of letting myself starve just to be skinny .
. i'm only 5'4' and 112 lbs, and i feel fat.
. if i can't exercise, sometimes I throw it up .
. HATE being afraid of gaining weight .
. wish i could shut certain people in my past out .
. hate feeling like i'm never good enough .
. tired of feeling like a big disappointment .
. if i could take back half my life, i would.
. frustrate myself so bad & i'm such a jealous person.
. i have low self-esteem .
. hate the fact i barcade myself in the house on 'ugly' days .
. HATE the fact i live with O.C.D & PTSD .
. tired of always being second best .
. Mostly, i'm tired of feeling that no one really cares . . . .
i hate these self-demons that i have, and wish my insercurities would go away.
.... Brittani