To kris, With Love

I made this picture for my dearest friend Kristen Lydia, who inspired me to start drawing again.
I had given up on it completely, but the reliable Lydia encouraged me to continue on with art.
She inspires me in many other ways than just one. She's the greatest, most intelligent, Caring and understanding friend one could ask for. I love her like a sister, and I pray we are best friends until the end of our time.

It Was A Beautiful Let Down

Today, my friend Kristen and I got caught unplugging the vending machines at school. . . well, truth-be-told, I got caught unplugging the vending machines at school. Luckily the one who caught me was my World History Honors teacher, Mrs. Raff, and not some other maniac teacher who would've most likely ripped my head off. Mrs. Raff is a very sweet and nice teacher and I really wish she weren't prego so she didn't have to leave so soon. . . BUT, moving on. . .
So she came up to Kristen and I and asked her for her name and yadda yadda and then said she would have to report us. SO, during class, (which i have her first), I decided to just ask if I could turn myself in to Mrs. Delio, the school AP. Mrs. Raff sent me down, I confessed, and then Mrs. Delio asked about my accomplice. WELL my plan was to get Kristen off the hook, but alas, I failed. So she asked me what her first and last name was and called her down as well. Kristen walks in, Mrs. Delio talks, thinks for about ten minutes, checked our records, sees we are clean and doing well in school, and decides to let us off easy with just two weeks of lunch detention.
Not bad, if I should say so myself, I mean. . . I would much rather prefer that over a referral.

Sick To My Stomach

Today, I feel strange. I feel sick to my stomach. . . shy and nervous, at times, and spontaneous bursts of feeling like I just want to scream at the top of my lungs and fall to my knees. I am angry. I am sad.

Last night, I couldn't breath. I just laid awake, on my side, trying to gasp for air, but I couldn't. My throat tightened up and it felt as though someone were choking the life out of me. My heart beat sped up and my mind was racing. I sat up, my eyes closed, allowing everything to consume me. Allowing the darkness to send me into the solitary confinement of my deepest, most hurtful thoughts and memories. 

It was all I could think about. . .

It left me gasping for air. 

Why do these memories haunt me? Why? They say time heals all wounds, but mine are still wide open; infected, and bothersome, still sending me into a seemingly never-ending void of depression and anger. . . hate and melancholy. I try not to think about it, I do. But it never works. Never does. It has not been too long since all of the trouble, but should I not be over this by now? Even these pills do not help when they are supposed to "make me think more clearly" and "help me control my depression", but it is doing nothing of the sort. 

What am I supposed to do?

I just don't know anymore. . . 

I need someone. . . someone who understands me. . . someone who actually cares. . .

| Bristles |

He's a porcupine.

(PLEASE; no copywriting. . . this is MY image and I would really appreciate it if you respected me and not copy it. Thanks. . .)

Food For Thought

I am at school while I write this, and it is 10:40. . . 10:41. . . and I was just thinking about food. Kris always says I am afraid of eating in front of people and that I have an eating disorder. . . sad part is, I think she's right. But the awful truth is, I am overweight. Or at least I think I am. No one else does, apparently, but they are wrong. They are all wrong. I am overweight! Why can no one see that?? I am too short to eat 2,000 calories and I am too short to weigh 104! No one understands!! I don't think anyone will ever understand just how it feels to be 4"10 and feel fat all the time! BECAUSE I AM! And it is just so gosh darn difficult to lose the weight! I don't know why it is. My guess is genetics, but God. . . GOD. May the Lord just help me. I feel like I am losing my mind sometimes about this. I am too afraid to look at myself in the mirror. When I am in the shower, I close my eyes. When I put on a tight shirt, you can CLEARLY SEE THE BULGE. It is there. I know it. I can see it. I can feel it. . .

A Depressing Decision Worth Making. . .

Today, as my best friend Kristen and I sat in the back seats together of a poetry meeting after school, we randomly started a small conversation of our past love ones, as we usually do. Of course, this time, it finally hit me that there is absolutely no point in even talking about it. None. No one can say otherwise, either. It is not helping with coping and allowing time to heal our wounds - and talking about it all the time just makes it all the more worse! Heck, just thinking about it hurts inside, for both of us. I know it. She is hurting, and so am I. So, I suggested we vow to never speak of it again, and made her shake on it. And she did, with some hesitation. . . But, she did none the less, and I am proud of her. We deserved better than them, anyway, and God will help us through this mess. He will heal us and reward us with what we truly deserve.

Amen.

Fear Of Weight

The other morning I weighed myself; 101. Such a beautiful, mind-easing number it truly is. I dared naught to weight myself again on this day, for I fear that that precious number - 101 - might have gone away. . .