Sticks and stones

So I have this friend. Most of you probably know who he is. But if you don't, don't ask. Anyway, he and I are supposed to be taking a pretty long break from each other. I don't really know how to deal with this besides writing it out on this here blog. Which is what this blog is for... my feelings, so deal with it. He'll get mad at me for talking about him, but I really just don't care anymore. Honestly I felt like I was being used but I was doing the same to him so I shouldn't feel that way. It's my fault and I accept that. It was just a bad situation we both needed to get out of. So that part of my life is done for a while. I haven't told him I loved him lately because frankly, I just can't afford to feel that way anymore. I mean, I have love for him. Is that a bad thing? To have love for someone but to not actually be in love with them? I don't think so... I believe you can love someone and be in love with someone else. Different types of love exist, it's just hard to explain it to people some times.

Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about today was... crap. I can't remember. Let's go off on another tangent. My past relationships have all been less than okay. I mean, I've only ever had two serious boyfriends. My first one was my first everything. My first milestones in my life were all with him and I was really young. Yay for living with bad choices!- Said no one ever. As for this most recent one, I tried to be friends with him but it just wasn't ever going to work. He knew that, but I apparently didn't. He was so intent on making sure it wouldn't work out as friends. he couldn't get past the fact that we were "exes", which is fine, but he went in with a mind set that it wasn't going to work and so it didn't. Whatever. I was so intent on keeping him happy because I convinced myself that if I could make him happy, then I would be too. I was suffering by my own hand. My own doings. And I blame myself. Maybe I wasn't the best I could be. But I can't say that, no. I know I deserve better than how I was being treated in return.

It would come to the point where I would tell myself that if I can make him smile, maybe I wouldn't feel so badly about myself because I'd be what he was smiling about. But then I remembered things he'd say, the things he'd do with other people that he would never tell me about. He figured if I didn't ask, he wouldn't be lying. He would just be keeping secrets. I'd find out on my own that he'd intentionally ignore me to go hang out with his friends, or to be with someone else. He defined our "relationship" in such a way to where he could do whatever he wanted, even if it meant being with another girl and I'd have no right to say or ask about it, even though he would still have relations with me. He made sure to keep me a secret in his life. Well fuck that. This guy... He'd never invite me anywhere with his friends. I felt like he was ashamed of me all the time. That I wasn't worth the time or effort to be put into making a relationship work. Seriously, how fucked up am I that I try to do all I can to make someone happy, but when it comes to me, I'm not worth fighting for? I felt like that. Every. Single. Day.

I thought  if he really wanted to be with me, he would be. I shouldn't feel this terrible if I love someone. I was going to make a bold move. I was tired of worrying about him, about who is he with? Is he okay? I really hope nothing bad happened to him while he was driving.  I try not to come off as that clingy girl, I genuinely care that much about people, it's not just him. That's just how I am. Even if it's an acquaintance, I think,  I really hope they're safe on their way home. I'm just caring in that way. I don't care if it comes off clingy, that's just me. I wanted to say, choose me or lose me. But he never let me ask. He wanted to lose me. He wanted no part of me until he didn't feel he needed me anymore, everything was always on his terms.

He was homeless, friendless, hopeless. What did I care for that? I stuck through everything with him and I wasn't worth the time or the effort to even be given a chance to prove that I could help him or care for him... That's what I get though right? That's exactly what I get. I deserved it. I know. I was just an ex, I wasn't actually enough to be considered anything more than that. Here I am, just an 18 year old girl who's in college in a different state, with her own set of problems to work through. I understand that. Maybe I'm a little too understanding. Please keep in mind, I'm just venting. I'm not looking for criticism, I'm not looking for help, or comments. But since this is public, I suppose I deserve feedback of the sort and should expect it. I suppose I deserve that too. I don't deal with things lightly. I don't just waste time with people for the hell of it. No. I genuinely love and care for him, but I need to stop wasting my energy on something that will never happen. I need to accept the reality and stop hoping. Hope. Such a wasteful thing in life. I don't ever want to rely on hope. It's let me down far too often. All it does is make a cliff even higher, so when you fall, it's even harder. Me writing this is part of that process. If I can write it out, then I can come to terms with it.

I had a tough childhood. I've had things happen to me that were unwarranted by no means of my own, but I try not to let my past dictate my future. So I put aside those feelings of self-loathing and hatred that I have towards myself and create a new outlet... I love people and cherish them. Everyday I honestly pray to the Lord saying thank you! Please let everyone be okay. Bless them if not me, and guide me in through this life. Please, don't abandon me. I reflect back through the day before I sleep thinking, "If I die tonight, will I have left everyone on a good note? Will I leave everyone I've come into contact today.... with a smile?" I think that every night. I care about people. I really do. And if that's clingy, then fine, so be it.

I shouldn't let that define me. I let it get the best of me though. I always blame myself first to give people the benefit of the doubt. To say I'm the problem, because if I can fix myself then everything will work. But this time, it's not me. It's the situation. It's just more harm than good that comes from my knowing him. I would cry because I felt I wasn't worthy to be loved or cared for. I would cry because that's the only way I know how to deal with this. I don't whimper, I don't scream, or yell. I just let the tears roll down. I comfort myself because I'm the only person i can count on. The reality is this, that I was just an object to be used. I'm a woman after all, it's part of society's nature to objectify women because that's just how it works. It happens. I honestly felt that way for the longest time. That it was all my fault. That I'm the reason for my own unhappiness. I had no one to blame but myself. Which is true, yes. I should have let him go a long, long time ago. But I let my heart get the best of me. I actually am glad I acknowledge this, because there will come a day where I won't feel that way. When I meet my soul mate. The one He has in store for me. I just need to wait a little longer.

I know I probably sound like a whiny bitch who didn't get what she wanted. Well, I try not to come off like that. I try not to be that way. Honestly, this is written entirely out of heartbreak. Out of sadness and out of shame for letting it happen to me again. He's proved time and time again that he's just like the rest of them. I will stop settling, because it's obviously, not worth it. I deserve better than to be someone's fallback when things get rough. I deserve to have someone actually try to make me happy. I think I do anyway. It helps me, because I hope to be someone who is worthy of that when the time comes. I want to be able to say, "I love you," and not need to hear it back to know that they love me too. I just need to wait. These sticks and stones break my bones, but bones will heal, the heart just takes a little longer, but that too will heal in time. I just need to wait.

FINALS WEEK

So the title is pretty self-explanitory. I have finals next week for my first semester in college. I hate the fact that I've let my grade in Biology slip up. :/ ButI better focus on my other subjects to make sure I don't sacrifice one for another again. I have two exams tomorrow, one for Pre-Calculus and one for Chemistry. I'm so nervous for both of them since I haven't been in class in almost a month. I've been having to adjust to how my body has been deciding to shut down on me lately.

I was admitted to the emergency room over a week ago. Sorry for not filling you in. I woke up ready to board a plane when I had intense pains in my stomach. It felt like there was a balloon expanding in my rib cage and it felt hard to breathe. My mom drove me to the emergency room where they saw me, asked me the usual questions. It was the first time I was ever in an emergency room where they laid me down on a stretcher and I was genuinely scared. They gave me an ultrasound before administering any medication. I'm pretty sure the woman taking my ultrasound was pressing as hard as she could on my gall bladder. I was in constant pain for 2 hours at that point. There was no dwindling of pain, or any moment of relief in-between spasms I was getting. Just the consistent feel of something trying to break my ribs from the inside. I went back and they finally gave me pain medication. I got an IV and honestly, I fucking hate needles. They gave me morphine and for me, it felt like I had been paralyzed and there was a long hot wire forcing its way up my right arm, across my chest, down and up my left arm and continued this way into my other ligaments. I felt this throughout my entire body for the first what seemed like 30 seconds. Followed by it, was a wave of cold air all over.

My mom suffers from migraine headaches. Every woman on my moms side does. Going to the emergency room a couple of times a month was a normalcy to my family ever since I could remember. We knew how the procedure went. Mom wakes up complaining and in pain, my dad getting up after only an hour of sleeping after getting back from work at 3 am. Me and my brother get up and put shoes on, grab a pillow for the car ride and something to do. Drive a half hour out to Bellflower at 4 am on a school day. Arrive at the emergency room and wait for two hours. Once 6 am hit, I had to get to high school for 0 period since I was in band. Me and my dad would drive back while my brother just came along for the ride since he'd go back with my dad. I'd get home, me and my brother would get ready for the day, and my dad would wait until I got picked up by a friend to take me to school and I'd go, while at the same time, him and my brother would be on their way back to the hospital to pick up my sedated mom to bring her home and drop Andrew off at middle school by 8 am.

That was the majority of my high school experience. I missed a lot of school due to this and my own illnesses. Now that I'm in college, my brother is in high school and helps my mom more than I ever could. Most of the time, I was part of the reason she'd get a headache from worrying about me breaking the family curse. What's the family curse you ask?

Well... It's necessary that you know a little backstory. My dad, Romeo, (haha, I know. Now shut up. -.-) got his first girlfriend knocked up while he was 18 and he never graduated high school because he became a dad to my older now ex-communicated brother Adrian Torres. Then, my dad left his mom because she went crazy on him and planned on getting knocked up to keep him, but instead he left her and started paying life support. Then he met another woman, and made way for my older sister Melody whom I love dearly. Her mom was crazy too so he was paying child support for two kids when he met my mom. My poor mom met both his son and daughter and married him before having me. Now, I tell you this so you know, this only runs on his side of the family. My mom never finished high school because she needed to take care of herself, and her two sisters from starving so she only made it to the 10th grade. My dad was just a knuckle-head and became a dad instead.

Now, the curse, is that no Torres child has; graduated high school, made it to 18 without a kid, or went to college. My dad had a kid, got his GED, and went straight into manual labor. Adrian, had a kid, never graduated high school, and dropped out of trade school. My sister was close, she was knocked up, but she still graduated from La Serna high, barely passing after failing her first two years at another school. But you know, I love her and I love my nephew James. Plus, she went to community college for a bit but couldn't handle it with her son and got a couple of jobs instead. So what did I do? I graduated high school with honors, I do not have a kid, and I'm a freshman here at Whitworth University.  I may be struggling a bit, but I'm doing the best on my own despite how much I've gone through this first semester already. So, I broke the curse. It made me trying to have a boyfriend very difficult in high school but I don't need one anyway. It wasn't ever like I was going to find my future husband at the age of 17 anyway. Oh and I graduated at the age of 17. haha. That could have had a part in why I broke the curse, I don't know. All I know is that simply being here is an accomplishment for me.

Now to the main topic of finals.... Fuck. I'm so unprepared. haha. I have finals for chemistry and pre-calculus. I have to do a visual argument and research paper for my writing class. I'm only worried about chemistry to be honest since I suck ass when it comes to science. Not being able to go to class since I've been put on all this medication and now have a restricted diet really bugs the crap out of me. I will make 2nd semester count though. <3 I will only be doing gen eds but I will be doing them in my favorite fields of study. :) I'm looking forward to finals. I will do my best and get through it all. Until we meet again,

GOOD LUCK!!!

bis später mit liebe, -Julsie <3

Short Story I Did For One Of My Friends

“Goddamnit Ana!” The cacophony of plates shattering onto the floor echoed around the room, tears were streaming down Ana’s cheeks, and the bruises on her arms were starting to throb. She trembled, trying to keep her whimpers down as she hid in the closet, while she watched Derek in a fit of rage. She crossed her arms and prayed that God would rescue her from this beast, this monster of a man. Another plate shattered, some cups too, Ana’s favorite china set, and they all covered the floor. The fragments glinted, reflecting the anger in Derek’s expression, and the horror in Ana’s eyes. It wouldn’t be long before he came into the closet looking for more objects to break. He stormed off into the next room and what was in actuality a few minutes seemed like hours as Ana stayed as quiet as she could, waiting for the storm to pass.

            Derek marched back, throwing open a drawer over where Ana was hiding. She could see the shadow of his figure from the slit she could peer out of. The arched back being formed as Derek bent over, opening a beer bottle off the corner of a nearby dresser. He guzzled it down, then another, and another. She watched as he calmed down, his anger no longer being fueled by the thoughts of Ana running away from him. He sat in his chair, wiped his forehead, and ran his hand through his now greasy hair, made so by the perspiration and dirt from his face. Ana stayed as quiet as she could, her heart racing, refusing to calm as she remained in the same room as him. The beads of sweat on her forehead dripped into the corner of her eye and stung. She watched him sway back and forth as he reached for another two bottles of beer.  Reaching for the sixth, he belched, swallowed it, and threw the bottle against the wall. Ana feels tempted to sob, to let out her feeling of helplessness or to scream. She repressed it. For the sake of her child, she stayed in the closet, refusing to let him harm her and her baby any longer.

            He got up and knocked his chair over. He wiped his hands on his wife-beater, so properly named, and staggered toward the door to the backyard. His steps grew softer and softer as Ana listened for the sound of a creaking door. A slam startled her but calmed her soon after. As she felt it was safe to come out, she lightly tip-toed over to the back door and locked it. With the deadbolt in place, she carefully and ever so quietly made her way upstairs. On the first step she felt dizzy, ready to pass out, but she tightened the laces around her running shoes and made her way to the master bedroom. Ana knew what she had to get to survive the next week on her own. She quickly grabbed the smallest suitcase she owned and threw in the necessities for a long walk to town. Her mother’s wedding band, pajamas, and a few clothes to keep her warm through the cold nights ahead. What little she did own fit snuggly in her second-hand suitcase. Though the house was lavished with luxurious belongings, the only pieces that resembled Ana’s existence remained in a few drawers in her bedroom.

            She tucked her hair behind her ears and head, and as she went to look in the mirror she saw herself for the first time since that dreadful morning. Her eyes were swelling up, red and dried out from the tears shed that day. Pale white skin reflected back from the spotted mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess from being whipping around so often, and the bald spots underneath, near her neck were bright red.  She reached up with her nimble fingers and bruises on her wrists were the perfect shape of where a hand once clasped. The cuts on her temples and cheeks where he hit her so often were covered with dry blood. She brought her suitcase with her into the bathroom and checked outside to see Derek in the moonlight. His body in a drunken stupor as he fell to the ground and was crawling on all fours like the animal he was.  She washed her hands and a moistened a towel in the sink and patted herself dry with no success in aiding the wounds on her face. The numbing effect of the cold water dropped the heat being given off from her skin. Terrified to look in the mirror again, she used her makeup to conceal her injuries, trying her hardest to fix her appearance to the best of her ability.

When she looked up, there had been no difference. The color was flushed from her cheeks, her eyes now swollen in their sockets from the constant rubbing and touching. She had never felt beautiful and felt at this moment, she never would be. She pulled her hair back and wrapped it in a bun.  She looked around on the table, and every now and then she glanced out the window, this time she saw Derek slithering his way to the toolshed. She knew how he was when he was sober; it was even more frightening when he was drunk. He somewhat knew his limits while he was conscientious of what he was doing, but when he drank, there were no boundaries, no difference between something being dead or alive.

            She went back to packing her things; a medicine bottle here, some bandages there, and she was sure to be careful about the way she organized her items, so as to ensure that everything would fit in the small leather case. The feeling of paranoia overcame her. She could sense something was missing as she looked around. She bent down and started fumbling through the objects under the sink, hoping to find anything she may end up needing on the trip. She heard a slight knocking on the downstairs door, but assumed it had been a neighborhood cat. She knew her husband, how slow he became once the alcohol poisoned his mind. She had a sense of control. That everything was going to be okay once she left this morbid excuse for a home.

            Footsteps came running up the stairs, loud thumps progressed and a thud on the floor followed. Ana looked outside and Derek was gone. He was near the top of the stairs, she could feel it. She closed the door and locked it, throwing her toiletries into her suitcase as fast as she could there was a loud rapping on the door. He found her.

            “Ana! Open the goddamn door Ana! I wannaseeyou. Open the fuckin-door!” The bangs got harder as he pounded his fists on the wood. She panicked and threw open the window. She tossed her suitcase out and saw it fall with a dull thud to the ground. The bangs grew into misguided kicks in the door. The sound of a shotgun firing was all that registered in Ana’s mind. She wrapped one leg around the windowsill and then another. She lowered herself onto the garage off to the side, beneath her. She dropped down and then again onto the wet grass. She grabbed her suitcase and ran as fast as her weak body would take her, into the forest that surrounded their Victorian estate. The swampy feel of the lagoon nearby thickened the air and made it worse for her to breath despite her fragile condition. She had the will power to make it to town, at least to seek help from her old friend Mary. She reached the fence when-

SHICK-SHICK… CHOOM!

            She stopped in her tracks long enough to recognize the noise. She knew the sound of that shotgun and the blast it makes before it finds its victim. She hurried. Her mind was racing,

What am I to do? Where am I to go? If I go to Mary’s he’ll find us. What if he hurts her too? I can’t  lead him to her. Who knows what he’ll-

            She tripped over the roots of a tree. Her side hit the tree and she whimpered out in pain. She lay on her side. Grasping her now bruised ribs, she forced herself to get up and keep moving. She could no longer hear the sound of her husband chasing after her. The sense of relief overwhelmed her as she treaded through the night.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please take a moment to like this blog on Facebook. It's new and I'd appreciate some support and feedback. :) Enjoy!

Piercings, Concerts, Clubbing

First off, like this blog on Facebook!I love writing for you so let me know if you like this or not. :)

Hey! So I know I haven't written in here for a while, but I am finally getting a chance to sit down and fill you guys in on how I'm doing... Thanks so much for getting it up to over a thousand hits on the last post! You are so awesome. <3 I appreciate you so I hope to become a better writer so you can have more interesting stuff to read. 


Piercings... So recently I turned 18.... whoop whoop! I decided that as a gift to myself, I would get my ears pierced. A few times. haha. So. I decided to get one on the top inner portion of my ear, plus an extra one on the bottom on both sides. I'm definitely going to get addicted though probably not anytime soon. I'm going back to get a third one on the bottom as soon as I feel ready to... probably in a week or so. I personally just like the way that studs going up the side of someone's ear looks. 
it's like when us girls use the cat-eye eyeliner. It's just so pretty.

Concerts... I've been to a couple so far. This one I went to more recently, called Remedy Drive was really cool. Their music is modern and it's not as Christian-y as I thought it would be. With Whitworth University being a Christian Liberal Arts school, a lot of the music acts are presumably Christian. But I've been surprised so far. These guys were so chill and super nice. I worked their merchandise table for them and I had a blast doing it. It makes me miss Los Angeles even more now.

The band member I really got to know and hang out with is named Dave Mohr. He's the guitarist and he's super chill. He's from Chicago, Illinois and he's on tour with the band at the moment, heading to Montana next. I really recommend that you should Like Remedy Drive on Facebook! Listen to some of their music and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did. Also, if you get the chance, do not pass it up to volunteer at concerts or to work for them. It's so much fun and rewarding.

Clubbing... I'm going to be doing that this saturday with my best friend Eduarda. She and I have gotten pretty close and she actually is with me when I write most of my blogs. haha. I'll definitely do a post on her one of these days. I've been trying to decide what's best for going out. Dressing up or down from jeans and a tee. I see these girls and they wear almost nothing... and then they complain about how cold it is outside... Yeah. So, I avoid that. I wear jeans, some heels, my leather jacket. and I recently dyed my hair red so I try to utilize that to my advantage. haha. I love bright colors on people. Well as long as it's not like yellow, or green... ew. But yeah, I've been working out a lot but I'm nowhere near the shape I wanna be just yet. So off to the gym I go!

Stories? Perhaps. Maybe not.

First off, like this blog on Facebook!I love writing for you so let me know if you like this or not. :)

The light breeze in the hot summer afternoon was cooling under the old willow. The long stems of leaves running down around Helena provided a sense of security as she clutched the old photos of those she loved. The edges were burnt and the gloss contained a film of dirt and ash. She could smell the smoke drifting in the almost absent air.

She felt another presence nearby but couldn't place her finger on what it was. She looks up. Terrified, she stays quiet as to not disturb the figure standing behind the curtain of green. She's petrified and cannot move. The sweat gathers on her forehead while she pulls the pictures close to her heart, hoping to keep them safe from the figure. 

He moves. A bright shine bounces off the object in his hand and glints in Helena's eyes. She closes them and focuses her attention on hearing the footsteps of the man. He treads lightly so as not to be seen with the bloody stains he has on his shirt and hands. The crunchiness of the dead grass sounds as he finds his way toward a nearby fence. 

He's closer to her now. Helena's eyes remain shut and she holds her breath as he passes by. 

The man never notices her, though she felt his eyes pass over her more than once in the time she had been sitting under the old tree. Why was he there now? What brought him to her safe place? She had run as fast as she could from the fire and there was no way he could have seen her. His footsteps are gone, but the rapid beating of her heart hasn't slowed. She opens her eyes and exhales a sigh of relief as the sound of the footsteps had disappeared. 

She wishes she was brave enough to open her eyes sooner and be able to see the man. She wouldn't be able to describe him anymore than that shadowy dark figure who held the sickle in his hand in blood stained clothes. She unfolded her legs and leaned against the tree. Where would she go now? Who could she turn to? She's a mile away from the nearest town and no one knew who she was. 

She brought the pictures away from her chest and looked down at the polaroids that were all she had of her past. The only boy who truly loved her, her best friend in overalls and shaggy black hair who sat beside her when her mother died all those years ago. His green eyes were the jewels of her childhood and the only distinguishing features she could remember about him before she was taken from him. 

In another, a quarter of the square had been missing. The top right of her mothers hairdo was singed away and the smile she had seen ever so often was etched on the grain. It was odd to see herself so young, as she marveled at how tightly her mother held her on her lap. That old dress had been saved for her and waited for Helena in a trunk beneath the barn, hopefully untouched by the fire. 

The last of the photographs was of her darling sister who she knew was safe since her grandparents had taken her before the darkness came over their lives. Helena would have never been able to prepare herself for what her life, what little of a life there was, would have been like since the death of her mother. Helena and her sister had only known each other for a short time before she was taken as an infant. The father couldn't stand the sight of her little sister, knowing that she was the cause of the death of his wife. It didn't help anymore that Helena was the spitting image of their darling mother, Francesca. 

No one knew the torment she would experience following the birth of Samantha. Her mother was known for her loving nature and she had the essence of one of those women you come across who has such a welcoming smile and lights up any room. Her loveliness surpassed any amount of ugliness in the world. The father didn't deserve her and had stolen her from his brother. She had never known the story behind her planned marriage, she didn't need to know, and would never known. 

Helena had fallen asleep under the willow and had woken up in the dead of night surrounded by darkness. She had grown accustomed to not having any dreams at this point and it never bothered her that her imagination had been locked away and kept inside since that first dreadful night that she had been abused. Her only focus now was to find a way to town and find someone who could help her. She fastened the photos in her bag and examined the contents one by one. A small bread roll, an apple, a small cooking knife, the letter she got from her best friend Jeremy, the 134 dollars she had been saving up since she was 6, a small whistle, a flashlight, and now her treasured photos. She contemplated the options that remained for her and what she needed to do from now on. She was alone now and her first priority was to find the only person besides her mother who loved her. Jeremy should be close by; according to the address on her letter. She tucked her unwanted memories and the chilling past into her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked out from the safety of the willow and into the night...