It’s Unofficial!

My boyfriend, or rather my unofficial fiancé, gave me his class ring last night. Partly because he felt bad for not being able to afford a class ring and partly because I was in a lot of pain last night.


Does your class ring count as an unofficial engagement ring?

11:07 AM Mon, Dec 9

To: Boo


To me. Yes. Idk if you do

11:10 AM Mon Dec 9

From: Boo


Of course I as my agreement text, I sent a smiley face 🙂 . We consider one another to be the love of our lives, which I would never say that if I didn’t believe it to be true. And while he can be dramatic, controlling, and obsessive, I know he means well and that he does love me. I know, I know, we’re just teenagers and that’s the only kind of love this could be– teenage love. But really, if this is all that this is, it’ll be worth the risk.

I’ve survived things in amazing ways that most people would crumble and cry over. I’ve had someone that I thought was meant for me. Know what happened? Things didn’t work out and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. The heartache I went through was tragic. Yet I took it like a champ and moved on. Cold hearted? Maybe. Probably. At times.

In any case, we’re officially unofficially engaged!


Scared & Alone

Everyone feels like they’re alone and scared at some point in their life, I know, but I more than others. Most of the experiences I’ve faced were not problems that I instigated. No, I was the innocent victim in the blood splash zone of life as one traumatic memory or another butchered everything I held dear around me. Sometimes it was like someone I loved was tying me down to a straight jacket just to torture me mentally, physically, or worse than both of those– emotionally.

I’m no stranger to loneliness and fear. In fear there is caution and I use caution quite well. In loneliness there is solitude to be a philosopher and to think about life-changing decisions. I’ve learned, from those malicious memories, how to manipulate everything bad into something good, or at least into something that can make something else that’s good.

But now that the Big Bad Wolf gave up huffing and puffing and I’m finally free to explore my world (under my mother’s strict supervision, that is), I find that every day problems can be just as daunting as fires and the psychotic.

This problem I face now isn’t an every day thing, but it still happens more often than it should. I actually put myself in this position, though. It was my choice. My decision. That alone makes it all the more scary and thrilling.

What is this dilemma I stand against?

I prefer not to say. But my boyfriend, which may surprise you, is more upset than I am, and this problem is usually one most boys would hate, or, in this case, be relieved. Nope, not my man. He and I are androgynous, although he is seemingly more on the feminine side and I appear to be on the more masculine. My mental strength? It’s like dragon armor in Skyrim. Emotional strength? Eh, more like Elven armor, but that’s still pretty good. His mental strength? Less than mine. Emotional? Still less than mine.

I feel alone. I write about my problems because I have no one to talk to, releasing my anger without hurting or insulting anyone or anything.

I feel scared. I’m taking extra precaution from now on. Also, I will be telling Boo (that’s a family-given nickname, not a nickname I use because he’s my boyfriend/fiancé), how I’m feeling now that I’m a bit more calmed down.

This post? Vague; as it should be.

Texty Time

Mom starts texting me saying it’s ten and I just say okay? And she said I’m gonna get her in trouble because I’m not home. So I walk out to the living room and confront her then she brings me into my room and says how grammy told her that I still wasn’t home or whatever and I told her that I came in and talked to her and Jessica AND my gram. She kept saying how she didn’t trust her own memory or whatever but then she wouldn’t let me ask my gram about it and starts crying asking if her brains messed up and I told her how I sometimes don’t remember what I eat in the morning and she cried and gave me a hug. So I walk out to get a glass of water and look at my gram and she looked away and didn’t say anything. Now mom is crying more saying she doesn’t want us to get like that sitting on my bed ._.

10:33PM Wed, Dec 4

To: Boo


A few things you should know:

My sister, mom, and I all live with my grandmother. However, I go to my boyfriend’s a lot. I do go over as much as possible, but I always come home at 8 or 8:30 on a school night. My mom is very much like my grandmother, and yes, her brain is messed up. She has epilepsy and has a lot of trouble with her memory now because of that. Both my grandmother and my mom like to start fires every once in a while so I have no idea who to believe this time because the look on my gram’s face kind of said she was guilty, but did my mother have part in it? Only God knows.

Around 7:30 p.m.:

Mom starts yelling at my 10-year-old sister for lying (for the 50 millionth time) and telling her the truth about her dad (we don’t have the same dad). How he took my older brother by the ankle, held him upside down, and dropped him on his head– almost breaking his neck. How he took him by the neck and slammed his face into a metal fence pole. How he called me a f* retard when I was, what, 6? I know some of the stories, like how he kicked my brother in the a* the one time he stood up to him and gave me $20 for “being the good kid.” God, I felt horrible. Not knowing what to do, I told him as we climbed the stairs that I’d give him ten of it.

But those first three things, I didn’t remember at all. Wow. I felt miserable and like I wanted to cry. So I had my boyfriend come pick me up for an hour.

Around 8:30 p.m.:

I get home, talk to mom. Threaten Jessica because she was threatening me (not seriously threatening, duh). Pig out on chocolate we’re supposed to be using for a gingerbread house.

My gram gets home and goes into the kitchen and I follow. I see that she’s making a PB&J sandwich (which is racist, you know. Look it up) so I say that I like the seeds in the jelly and she agrees. I get my glass of milk and leave. Then I get a shower and get to bed.

Around 10 p.m.:

All that wonderful BS mentioned in the text goes on. YAY.


My boobs have been sore, I’ve been having cramps, and my usually high level of tolerance for annoying things and people had been unusually low. My phone is about to expire. I have midterms coming up. And, it was the first day back to school from Thanksgiving break. Plus the exhaustion from not sleeping. Great day, right?

Is there anybody out there who understands what this is like?


I walk out into the living room for my iPod charger and she acts like everything is f* fine.