I’m Terrified.

It is 11:26 pm. Sunday, February 25th.

I’m supposed to be sleeping, but instead I’m wide awake. I’m so exhausted. I’m filled to the brim with overwhelming anxiety, so much that I can feel my bed shaking beneath me.

I’ve done everything that Google tells you to do. I’ve listened to calm music. I’ve taken a warm shower, and brushed through the tangles in my hair. I washed my face. I lathered on lavender lotion. I put on warm clothes.

But nothing is helping, because I’m still here and anxious.

Events at my school and in our world lately have taken a toll on me that I can’t seem to shake. When does it stop? When does it get better?

This weekend, our principal sent out an email regarding a threat made at our school this past Friday. Keep in mind, threats and allegations have been coming in for a few weeks now already. I heard rumors about it, but didn’t think it was a real thing until police force showed up and wouldn’t let anyone into the bathrooms.

It doesn’t make sense to me why things like this are happening.

I shouldn’t have to be afraid to walk into school every day. I should be focusing on graduation in 3 months. Who thinks “This is so funny, let me write a threat to 1,000+ students and staff and get away with it”?? It’s not funny. It’s not a joke anymore. Whether you wrote it on a piece of paper for someone to find, wrote it on a bathroom stall, or posted it on Instagram for the world to see, I want you to realize it is not funny.

By making these “threats” you have taken away the security of education from us. Despite whether or not you like school, you are supposed to feel safe there. You aren’t supposed to feel like at any moment someone could come and cause harm to you and your friends.

I spent a long time tonight trying to decide on going to school or not. Let that sink in for a moment. I thought staying home in my bed was better than going for an education. Because now, in order to do that, I feel like I am risking my life. Everything sets of feelings of fear inside me. Everything.

Anytime someone screams.

Anytime the PA system goes off.

Banging sounds.

Books dropping.

Loud noises.

Crowds of people.


Phones ringing.

Lunch time.

Too much talking at one time.

Not enough talking at one time.

Fire alarms.

ALICE training.

Locked doors.

Unlocked doors.

Windows without screens.

Rooms with too many windows.

Rooms with no windows.

Armed SRO’s.

Police cars outside.

Adults whispering.

Too many people standing at one time.

Opened lockers.

The list goes on and on and the anxiety just piles up. I just want it to stop. I want my school to be safe again. I want to feel as if when I leave for school, I will make it back to my bed that night.

Should I write letters to my family in case something happens while I’m at school? So they know I love them?

Why is sending us to public school starting to sound more like sending us to war?

I said it once, and I will say it again. I shouldn’t have to be afraid to go to school.

It is to the point now that I’ve checked into animal therapy sessions just to ease my nerves on things. These feelings don’t just go away, no matter how well our school handles these situations.

My friends and I choose to stick together through all of this chaos, and for that I am eternally grateful. We are all coping in our own ways, but to have each other is something we all definitely need right now.

If you’re struggling with these same fears because you go to Woodland, or go to public school in general I want you to know you’re not alone. It is a scary world we are living in today where we focus more on living at school than getting our diplomas. I think one of the best things for us all to do is stick together. I hope with every fiber in my being that things will start looking up.

Until then, I was wondering if my readers would help some of us out. Share something that makes you smile, laugh, or just feel good. Maybe it’s a song, a YouTube video, or a picture of your dog. Comment your happy thoughts on this so that anyone feeling these same issues can see it, and have their mind clear for a few minutes. There’s too much negativity anywhere you look in this world today. Having just a moment of positivity could do a lot of us some good.

Until next time,


National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237
Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE
Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT
For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/
Stay alive. 💙


A Poetry Blog from My UnPoetic Soul


Today’s blog is different from my past blogs over the last few years in a sense that it involves poetry. It’s absolutely no secret to anyone that knows me that I am a writer. I have thousands of notebooks and unfinished Google Docs of works. I love to write. We are all aware of this fact. However, only those that care enough to delve deep into the dark corners of my being know that I dabble in poetry as well.

I’m not the next Robert Frost by any means, but I do enjoy poetry to pour out feelings of both negative and positive aspects. Poetry tends to be my therapist, without all of the vague terminology and sympathetic eyes glaring in my direction for 45 minutes. I turn to poetry when I don’t understand what my heart is telling to my brain, or my brain is telling to my heart…whatever body part is communicating to the other.

So, ladies and gentlemen, cats and dogs, FBI agents tuning in through the screens, I have decided to share some of my poetry with you. Don’t take anything to seriously. Don’t take anything too literal. If the shoe fits, it’s probably because it was designed around your cankles. (Oops.)

I’ll write a reflection underneath each piece as if this was some sort of portfolio. It’s up to you whether you want an explanation or if you want to let the piece just be as it is. I give you the reigns on that one.

Enjoy. Or don’t, I mean. You clicked my blog. I still get the view from it. I don’t really care what you do from here.

Broken Pieces, Aug. 30, 2017

There’s a bit of broken in all our minds

Despite what some others might like to say

What tends to count most is our deepest finds

When falling apart at the end of day

So we paint our nails with bright blue polish

With pristine regard to the rayed moonlight

And then hope our thoughts won’t soon demolish

The distinct difference between wrong and right

As our brokenness slips into a dream

We tremble, feeling so very shaken

As crazy as we already do seem,

We fear the darkest night has us taken

Then the dawn rises. We are not alone,

Our brokenness is what we can condone


This piece is something I wrote after I had watched 13 Reasons Why for the 3rd time. It had me thinking how different people are in the way we cope and handle things, and that we are all broken in some way, shape or form.


Maybe I miss you because you were a friend.

Because you made me laugh.

You were a shoulder when I needed to cry.

Or simply because I miss you.

You. Perfectly imperfect.

Flawed amongst yourself.

But that never mattered to me, not one bit.

I loved you even if.

A fire burned within you, so brightly it couldn’t be contained.

It was not the water you were after,

As much as I tried to be.

You were always running

From, for, after something.

With all your running,

You ran from me.

Even after the circumstances of which you left,

If my phone buzzed at 2 am,

I would still open it and rush to your side

To be your friend.


I think everyone can relate in some way to someone who left them, even when they still loved them. How, if they called you right now in need you would be there for them. There would be no question about it. You would be there. That is at least how it is for me.

Numb- Nov. 2017

Eighteen years I’ve stood where no one else has stood.

I have hiked roads that no one else dared.

In only half the time I’ve been alive,

I endured the heat of hell.

My heart has snapped in millions of pieces time and time again.

Does it ever end?

Does the persisting pain and suffering come to a stop?

Or does it just keep on?

And on for eighteen more?

Eighteen years. This has been my destiny for eighteen years, laid out right in front of me, like a deck of cards.

Happiness was never in the cards for me.

Happiness doesn’t exist for people with destinies such as mine-with eighteen year destinies.

Hell keeps spreading the flame and wrath as long as you keep walking.

It follows you.

Does it get any more numb than this?

Or do I simply just fade away?


Remember how I said to not look too deep into things? This is what I meant. This was written in a very, dark and twisty part of my life. I thought the whole world was crumbling down. Turns out, it wasn’t. It only got worse.

But, it’s been a few months later, and I can honestly say that things have improved since then. Stick around to see that shift in your life. It will get better. It may get worse, but I promise, it will get better.

Upon the Changing of my Heart

You take my melancholy phrases and turn them into happy syllables.

You make even the saddest parts of me feel like they can be something better.

Like maybe I’m not just damaged goods.

Maybe I’m not something they put on the back shelves so no one has to see me.

Maybe instead I can be something worthwhile.

I always thought fairytales were just for storybooks and children to slip into their nighttime dreamland, far-far and away

though lately I feel as if they may be capable of coming to life.

I’m not Cinderella, or even a Princess living under the sea

But you do make it as if at last I can see the light.

The light in life, the light in me. With multitudinous of possibilities.

No longer have I a mind of razor blades and broken feelings,

But instead the loveliest thought of your





The only thing I will say about this, is that it is the best poem I have ever written.

Broken (incomplete)

I was doing fine on my own

Then you came along and took me off of my shelf.

You threw me to the ground without a second thought

And now I lay shattered

In so many pieces.

How am I expected to clean up this mess?

This mess that you made?

Without making myself bleed from the shards?


I never completed this poem, and I don’t think I ever will. I love it, just the way it is. Most of my life I’ve spent feeling broken because of the actions of someone else, and this poem just hit deep. Words hurt. People hurt. I want people to read this poem and think. How many more suicides? What you do affects others. What you say. Which leads me into our next poem:

Oct. 22, 2017

I watch from a distance

As people gather round

They find their people

And their people theirs

And yet i watch alone.

At night I lie in the mound of blankets

I’ve built myself in bed

I scroll through tweets and pictures of

Everyone but me.

When everyone’s invited, and they all pose for the ‘Gram,

It’s as if no one realizes my absence is even there.

Because, truthfully, it isn’t.

It’s a place I don’t belong.

With people; among people; surrounded my people.

It just isn’t meant for me.

No one wants me to experience laughter and joy.

Friendship and companionship.

Perhaps I’m better off alone, where I can’t be hurt.

Where I can’t hurt anyone, either.

And everything is fine because I’m not there.

There’s no absence to see,

There’s no invitation to be sent.

There’s no photo to tag.

Then again, alone and not here wouldn’t be much of

A change from how it is right now.



Here I am, editing and rereading, and I’m just cheering myself on for writing this poem. Go past me! I had a best friend, who turned out to not be such a good best friend. My friends were dropping like flies and I had no rhyme or reason for it. Until I found out that reason months after I wrote this blog. Kurt Cobain once said that “loneliness is one hell of a drug” and he is definitely right about that. Loneliness is awful.

The Boy I Fell in Love With

(Inspired by E. E. Cummings)

I’m capable of only pure bliss when I’m with you(something I’ve never felt in all my years)

You make my heart smile, no matTer what the occasion is.

Because your deep blue eyes-always looking at me

Or your grateful smile that forms in your cheeks along

With your crinkling eYes

(never ceasing to

scare me senseless)

I see you in the hallways

And feel in the pit of my stomach

How i wish to remember you that way forever as the boy I fell in love with


(how I know that if you aren’t the one, how badLy this is going to hurt; how much my heart will wither and constrict and feel the agony of this go)

You’ll forever be the boy I fell in love with when I see you at the end of the aisle

Or in our living room, asleep on the couch

As you’re driving 20 years from now with me in your passenger seat

The music playing

You’ll be the boy I fEll in love with until the end of time.

(even if you fall away)

Because when I kiss you,


I see the next 60 years of my life

Laid out in fRont of me.

No reflection 


ABC Poem

Always tend to

Believe that most

Creativity resides in the

Depths of



Great and

Heightened. You can be

Illustrious in everyway.



Loose the fear that

Makes his home inside you.

No good creator would be

One, had it not been for

Pushing away fear. Your mind is more than

Qualified for what

Resides on the back

Shelves, forgotten and


Understand that you won’t be unsupported and

Vagrant. The

World needs your

Xtraordinary creativity.

You. In your

Zappy, creative ways.


This poem was written in class for an assignment, but I thought to include it in here because I love it. Keep your mind and hearts open at all times. You never know what may be ready for you.



This was a very tedious blog to write as my WordPress app crashed multiple times. (Yay for technology!!) Regardless, I hope you somewhat enjoyed my poetry. If you didn’t, I hope it at least provoked a few thoughts into your mind. “Don’t try to understand it, let it understand you.”

Until next time,


National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237

Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE

Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD

Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT

For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/

Stay alive. 💙


I made it to 50 blogs! What a journey all of those blogs have been.


What It is Like to Live in the Land of Guns with a Mental Illness

**This blog contains sensitive topics that may trigger certain readers. Please take caution when reading.**

You have to live under a rock if you haven’t seen the arguments regarding the recent events over the past few days.

“Guns vs people”

“Mental illness vs guns”

“People vs parenting skills”

“Guns vs abortion” (..what?)

In my opinion, you can have whatever standing you want on the argument. I’m not going to block you on Facebook or shun you if I walk past you in the meat section of Wal-Mart on a Tuesday evening. The truth is, there’s more than one factor that goes into all of this. It’s not just one solid problem to fix and then everything will be solved. You fix mental illness (however that may be) and you still have guns. You fix the gun problem and you still have the mental health issue. We rally up parents to “discipline their children better,” but we still miss a few.

People are sitting back on Facebook and Twitter and attacking each other due to their different opinions on what our country needs to fix. Let me just throw this out there: that’s not helping anything. You, going off on Brenda for 8 days straight in the comments section of a post isn’t going to help what you’re standing for.

Here is my take on things.

Growing up, I didn’t see a lot of guns unless it was on TV. Even then, I didn’t watch much that had anything to do with guns or violence to begin with. If my parents had guns, I didn’t know about it. Guns were out of sight, and out of mind.

As most of you know, things got really tough for me as years went on. (If you don’t know you can read about that here. ) I was diagnosed with PTSD, severe dysthymia, and depression. At the time, I didn’t like the thought of it. I didn’t want to talk about it or even address it, but now I’m open to conversing about my struggles.

I was in a constant state of wanting to harm myself. I wanted to get out of this world, one way or another. It was too hard to take anymore. So, I thought, why not? They make it seem so easy to do on TV. You take a gun and you just pull the trigger. You’re done, right?

But, my house didn’t have any guns.

I remember clearly one night as I was sitting on a couch with my best friend, watching TV. Nothing was different. Nothing was off. We were just watching TV. Her dad came home from work, talking on his cell phone. I caught a glimpse of him just as he set a gun down on the counter. It was one he carried with him at all times, I later found out.

Being in the state I was, my first thought was that this was the place I could do it. If I could get ahold of that gun, that’s the one I could use.

I never tried to hurt myself with a gun, but I always thought about it. I always knew that if I wanted to enough, the option was there. And that’s scary to think about.

It’s scary to know that anyone could go out and buy a gun without anyone knowing anything about them.

My brother’s uncle is another example. A few years ago, he was in a really bad place. He took a gun and locked himself in the bathroom. As his wife listened in through the bathroom door, he fatally shot himself. I always wonder what would have happened had he not had access to that gun. Maybe he could have gotten help. Maybe he would still be here to hold his children and see how tall and smart they’ve become.

I would gladly give up my right to go out and buy a gun any day, if it meant the safety and security of my classmates and future generations to come. My little brother should be able to go to school and feel safe when he walks in. He should have to worry about what’s for lunch that day and what game he will play at recess, not if he will ever make it home.

I would like to clarify that mental illness doesn’t always mean that you’re going to shoot up a school, or kill people while they’re at a concert, or even yourself. I was never in the thought process of wanting to hurt anyone but myself. End of the line- guns shouldn’t be as easy to access. They should not be out for children. They should not be out for teenagers. They should not be out for people who may or may not harm themselves.

Have you read the news stories of 5 year olds who are playing pretend when they find a gun and accidentally shoot themselves??

This shouldn’t happen.

We have taken advantage of our right to bear arms. Enough is enough.

A 19 year old kid, reported to the FBI for posting that he was “going to be a professional school shooter one day” should never have had the opportunity to get an AR-15 in his possession. Never. This could have been prevented.

The students of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School are standing up for what they believe in. Instead of being another number, or another pinpoint on a map, they’re rising against the odds. They are protesting. They are rallying. They are becoming.

On March 24th of this year, they have put together an event called March of Our Lives. They will be marching for reform, so that this doesn’t have to happen ever again. I hope to be lucky enough to attend one of these marches. I stand with you.

This has to end. But it won’t end until we do something about it. Attend walk outs and sit ins. March. Contact your representatives. Write to everyone you possibly can.

We are the change we wish to see in our world. It starts with us.

Until next time,


National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237
Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE
Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT
For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/
Stay alive. 💙

Being a Teen in the Age of School Shooting Normalization

It’s my #1 worst recurring nightmare. I walk into school on a seemingly regular day. I’m with my friends. We’re talking as we usually do, cracking a joke every now and again. I smile at the people who seem far away.

On this day in the nightmare, it is Wednesday, which means every student at Woodland Park High School arrives to school at a later time. It’s always on a Wednesday. We all pile into the Commons or stagger about the student parking lot before the bell rings and we go our seperate ways to begin our days. However, in this nightmare I constantly have, none of us get to make it that far.

It always happens differently, but suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, gunshots are fired. Someone here has a gun. We all know what the sound is instantly. We grew up watching movies with it, playing video games with it, and hearing them in all kinds of ways. But none of us were prepared for them to go off there, in our own school.

Chaos breaks lose. People are screaming, dropping to the floor. Some are running in all different directions. It all happens so fast, its hard to distinguish what is really going on.

From there, many different scenarios happen. My friend next to me is shot. Or we all duck under cafeteria tables. Or I run off with someone I haven’t been close with in ages, and spend hours hiding with them. Or I’m held at gunpoint in front of the entire school. Or I cower in a corner as I watch everyone I know be shot right in front of my eyes.

This nightmare has become so common for me that I think about it anytime I walk into school. I think about it as I walk through the halls. The staff at school has told us what to do in case of an active shooter in whatever class we may be in. They have answered whatever questions we may have. But at any given moment, it could happen, and absolutely no one would be prepared.

(Please note that Colorado is not lit up at all. And that scares me. A lot.) Added Feb. 15

It is 43 days into our calendar year and there have been 18 school shootings. 18. And after the Parkland shooting today, three of the 10 deadliest mass shootings have happened in the last 5 months.

What have we done about it?? Absolutely nothing. We do the same cycle anytime a senseless tragedy like this happens.

“Oh no this is terrible, let me write about how terrible I think this is. I’ll post it on Facebook. My thoughts and prayers go out to the victims. While I’m at it, let me change my profile picture to a filter someone created so that it looks like I’m doing something, when in actuality I’m going to go and forget all about this tragedy in a few days until the next one hits. Also while I’m at it, #TragedyStrong to show people I support the cause. And in a few days, I’ll go back to sharing stupid quotes with my followers.”

Nothing changes. No laws are passed. We learn to accept it as the “norm.” We scroll through the Trending Topics on social media, see the name of a town, and instantly assume it’s a mass casualty. It happens all the time. No need to freak out, right??


What is sending your thoughts and prayers going to do?? How is that going to stop the next person from open firing at another school? At another concert??

We should have learned in 1999 when Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris pulled off the biggest school shooting America had ever seen. We should have stopped it then. But we didn’t.

And then innocent 6 year olds who didn’t even know how to tie their shoes or sing on key lost their lives. And we still didn’t learn.

We still haven’t learned.

We learned to adapt instead of change the ways. We learned the easiest escape routes from our math class to the back hallway door. We learned to build barricades on the doors.

Instead of taking measures to stop the possibility of school shootings, we taught kids from the time they were potty trained how to survive one.

“Welcome to the place where you should feel the most safe. Know that you have the chance every time you step through those doors that you may never go home again. Enjoy the next 12 years.”

What kind of BS is that? We sit back and we let this happen. We let people with semi-automatic guns walk into schools and kill children.

I shouldn’t have to feel panic whenever there is mass huddles of kids in the hallways, or whenever assemblies are called. Whenever the fire alarm is called, is it real? Or is it a set up? When do we decide enough is enough??

Open your eyes.

I’d love to hear your opinion on this down below.

Until next time,


National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237
Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE
Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT
For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/
Stay alive. 💙

Reasons to Live Wall

“Sometimes there’s beauty in the tough words. It’s all in how you read them.”

-Jennifer Niven

Let’s be real honest here. Living. It’s not always the easiest thing to do. I mean, sure. Physically getting up and breathing seems to be something you do on autopilot every day. But everything else doesn’t come as easy as just simply “breathing.” And for those of you with asthma, even that is difficult for you.

There are the days you lay in bed and don’t think you can stand to walk through the halls, knowing people are judging you the way they do. Or the days you wake up and that pain you thought was long gone suddenly hits you in the chest again.

I’ve been through some rough patches in my life, and some of them have been harder than others. Some last a few days, and some last years. I never know when this said “rough patch” is going to be over, so the most I can do is buckle up and hold on tight.

I first came up with this idea for my wall when I was in a very bad mental state. In the bedroom that I had been staying in, I took a sharpie to the wall and wrote horrible things about myself. I was in the midst of a breakdown and just took to this wall about all of the things I thought was worthless about me. With black, liquid eyeliner, I drew a giant black heart in the middle of this chaos with a jagged line in the middle, symbolizing my brokeness. I was mess. The next morning, that’s what I had to wake up to. The writings on the wall. My mom was so angry when she saw the room.

Some time later, I found this book which I have now read 12 times. All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven gave me the idea of a wall of ideas. I started to take sticky notes and just write things down, but it turned into things that made me happy, or words or phrases. Soon enough, I had tons of sticky notes, and I started to put them over the harsh words I originally had on my wall. Thus began the basis of all of my reasons to live.

It’s been a few years now, and some of the sticky notes have disappeared or ripped up by me. (Aka they stopped being reasons to live, or I literally lost them moving from place to place.) The majority of the originals are still here, and I have added to them as I change.

They may be really stupid to most people. The reasons include things like strawberry lemonade, or “wanderlust”. The names Krys, Leslie, Amber, Ella, which no one will understand but me. “We accept the love we think we deserve.” Or Ataraxia: the tranquility of the mind.

When people enter into my room, it’s the first thing they see. I feel the urge to immediately defend myself, to send out the disclaimer of how stupid it is. But I’ve realized that it’s not stupid.

You don’t have to apologize for the way you fought to stay alive when you had every reason to give up. You don’t have to apologize for the scars on your wrist and thighs that will probably never go away, and you most certainly don’t have to apologize for the self assurance you give.

You’re here, despite all odds. Despite however many suicide attempts you may or may not have. Despite the loneliness. Despite the bullying, and the people who did you wrong. You are here.

You’re brave. I don’t care how you chose to keep yourself alive. Maybe you made a Reasons To Live Wall, or wrote to yourself in a journal everyday. Maybe you vlogged. Whatever you did, don’t feel like you have to be ashamed to show it off.

And if you’re going through something now, I encourage you to make your own list of Reasons to Live. It can be something as simple as your favorite TV show. Then, move on to your favorite quote, your favorite word, your favorite dream. Keep this list somewhere that you can see everyday, and remind yourself.

And no matter what, just keep on living. I’m proud of you.

Until next time,


National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237
Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE
Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT
For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/
Stay alive. 💙

Wild Hearts Can’t Be Broken

“I don’t write for people to hear me. I write to understand.”

People don’t realize the impact of what they do and say to other people. In this world today, hatred fuels so many motives of others. If there’s anything I’ve learned about most humans today, no matter how much they claim to love you, they’ll always love their pride and ego more.

It took me a while to grasp that concept. How can you spend so much time trying to ruin someone’s life for the benefit of your reputation? How can your heart be filled with so much hate? What makes it so fulfilling to see someone in so much pain caused by you and your actions?

I will have to die for this I fear. There’s pain and terror, and there’s sickness here.

I’ve come across a great life lesson recently. It’s one of those “you’re right” nods to your mother, aunts, moral supports. The life lesson everyone has been trying to teach you for years, and you finally heard it. And here it is.

No matter what people try to do to drag you down or kill your spirit, let there be more love inside of you than there is hate inside of them.

It’s easier said than done, I realize. It takes a storm to comprehend the strength you really have. Well, here’s my storm.

I was happy. And I mean, genuinely happy. Not the kind of happy you pretend to be because you think you have to be. Genuine happiness. I was thriving, even when times were tough.

I had everything I could ever hope for. Feeling genuine happiness was not a thing that came easy for me. It wasn’t something I could just snap my fingers and feel. I had to fight for it. And 19 years later, I had it for the first time. I was holding on to it so tight, taking in every moment.

And then my hurricane hit.

All at once, everything was gone. Everyone was gone. And I felt stranded. I felt all alone. I felt like I had nothing left to give the world. I felt it would be better if I weren’t here. If I didn’t have anymore words to write, if I didn’t have to burden anyone else. Because someone thought I should have to feel like that. And I did.

How is it fair that someone else could make me feel as if I was not worthy of existence in this world???

I fight because I have to. I fight for us to know the truth.

I didn’t want to get out of bed anymore. I didn’t want to go to school anymore. I didn’t want to breathe anymore.

So I stopped.

I stopped trying to live.

I came home everyday from school and just cried. I cried, and cried. And then I would fall asleep and repeat the process. Somedays it would be so bad, I wouldn’t make it home. I would cry at lunchtime. I just wanted out.

What I really wanted was my life back. My happiness back. I wanted to be that girl in the pictures before, that laughed loud at everything and smiled at everyone. I felt like it was all stolen from me.

It got to the point where I didn’t want to live like that anymore, and I wanted my life back. I came here to do one thing, and that was to graduate high school. I was going to do that, come hell or high water. But I knew I couldn’t have what I had back, so that was out of the question. Thinking about that didn’t sit very well with me.

I went home for Christmas break and started the healing process.

It’s not like a magic wand, where you wave it and all the problems are solved. If those existed, I’d buy a plethora and just wave them at all of my loved ones so their hearts would mend. Unfortunately, that’s not how our world works.

I write this blog to you, because I want you to know that whatever you’re going through isn’t the end of you. Despite whether or not it feels like it, you’re not over yet. I’m not over yet.

I thought I would stop writing completely. I even went so far as to rip all of the pages out of my journals of anything I wrote when I was happy. I remember thinking I didn’t want to relive it over and over in my mind, because I was never getting it back. Happiness was never in the cards for me.

I call bullshit.

No one, and I mean no one, can control your life. If they’re going to fight so hard to try and take it from you, you fight just as hard to have it. Happiness can be in the cards for you. You deserve every bit of happiness.

So I started to write again, this time with more passion and drive than ever before. I wasn’t going to stoop to their level. I wasn’t going to give them what they wanted by sitting in my room, praying that I wouldn’t have to wake up in the morning. I decided to fight to show people who I really was, not who someone else made me out to be.

I don’t know what happens from here. All I know is, there’s nothing too big or too terrifying in this world to stop you from living. You are destined for great things. Take the time to cry it out, and call me when you’re lonely.

P!nk recently released a new song which I’ve felt the power of on all levels. Here are the lyrics here:

I will have to die for this I fear
There’s rage and terror and there’s sickness here
I fight because I have to
I fight for us to know the truth
There’s not enough rope to tie me down
There’s not enough tape to shut this mouth
The stones you throw can make me bleed
But I won’t stop until we’re free
Wild hearts can’t be broken
No, wild hearts can’t be broken
This is my rally cry
I know it’s hard, we have to try
This is a battle I must win
To want my share is not a sin
There’s not enough rope to tie me down
There’s not enough tape to shut this mouth
The stones you throw can make me bleed
But I won’t stop until we’re free
Wild hearts can’t be broken
No, wild hearts can’t be broken
You beat me, betray me
You’re losing, we’re winning
My spirit above me
You cannot deny me
My freedom is burning
This broken world keeps turning
I’ll never surrender
There’s nothing, but a victory
There’s not enough rope to tie me down
There’s not enough tape to shut this mouth
The stones you throw can make me bleed
But I won’t stop until we’re free
Wild hearts can’t be broken
Wild hearts can’t be broken
This wild heart can’t be broken

Thank you for showing me what I’m worth, and what I’m capable of. The stones you throw can make me bleed, but I won’t stop until (I’m) free.

And a big thank you to the people that are there for me, night and day, any hour. Your love has been a blanket for me.

Whatever you’re fighting against, whether it is someone else, or yourself, know that things are going to be okay. You have the strength to overcome all of this.

Until next time,


National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237
Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE
Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT
For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/
Stay alive. 💙

Our Greatest Enemy

     Today, I woke up and once again felt heavy sadness weighing on my heart. I physically felt my bones feeling sore, as if I had been hit by someone. All I wanted to do was cry it out, or talk to a friend. I said “screw this,” got out of bed, and put on my favorite outfit. I wasn’t going to start this semester on a sour foot. 

     I then proceeded to call my brother and talk with him for a while as I got ready for the day. My favorite eyeshadow. My favorite hairstyle. My favorite socks. My favorite pair of shoes. Anything and everything I could think of to make me feel happier than I was when I opened my eyes this morning. I adjusted my necklace and walked out the door, smiling. 

     When I got to school I sprayed my favorite perfume. Happiness. I opened my locker and read all of my uplifting sticky note messages I left for myself. Happiness. I smiled at people in the hallways whenever I could, and went to see my favorite teacher in a passing period. I participated. When I felt myself drifting back to my bed sadness, I would smile bigger. I laughed louder in class when a joke was told.  Because I told myself I was going to be happy today.

     When school was over, I jammed out in my car to The Greatest Showman soundtrack as I drove to apply for more jobs with the same, smiling face I put on once I got out of bed this morning. After about an hour, I didn’t have anything else left to do, so I went back to my home. 

     Upon unlocking the door to my messy apartment, I notice my unmade bed. I notice the emptiness of no one being here to talk to me about my day. I check my phone for a friend to talk to. I notice the sadness I left in my bed this morning, overflowing with a black aura. The black aura spills onto my carpet, its so misplaced. I barely get a chance to throw my bag on the floor and close the front door before I’m there, in my bed, surrounded by the blackness. And it all comes pouring out.

     You can choose to ignore what is pounding at your heart all you want. You can choose to ignore your sadness, leave it in your bed, and put on a mask all day. But that doesn’t mean it’s gone. It doesn’t mean your sadness is healed. Because eventually, you have to come back to your bed. Eventually, you have to feel whatever it is you’re casting aside to move on from it. You have to lay there in the morning and say “Okay, I’m feeling sad today. Let’s get up and try our best.” 

     Don’t shove your emotions to the side. Sooner or later, they will catch up with you, and they’ll be even bigger when they do. It’s okay to be sad, it’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to want to shut off the world for a day to feel what you need to feel. 

     Our emotions are like a dashboard of a car, with a multitude of check engine lights. One lights up when your hungry, and you know you need to eat. When you’re tired, you know you need to sleep for the light to go off. When you have an emotion like sadness, you can’t fix it by just covering it up with a piece of paper. That’s not how that works. Any of us who drive a car know that if we would do that for our check engine light and continue to drive our car, we would be in some deep trouble in the long run. Humans are the same.

     It’s okay not to be okay. It’s not okay to stay that way. Cry it out. Vent to someone. Go see your favorite movie and eat gallons of ice cream. Then, restart tomorrow. Stop putting on a mask, and let yourself feel what you need to feel. 

      Give yourself the love you would give to someone else. 
Until next time,