I need to learn how to define myself by the things I love, and not the things I hate.
I love long walks on the beach.
Oh wait...
This isn't that kind of post....
Dogs,
They seem to relate to my wolf spirit more than cats.
Gypsies are my favorite culture.
They're just as odd as I am.
Bigfoot is real.
Aliens too.
And I love them both for how secretive they are.
Red is my favorite color.
Just like the blood that runs through my veins.
Horror for movies.
Mystery and SciFi for books.
Ghosts.
I can't wait to be one sometime soon.
I'm going to scare the living shit out of everyone.
Indie and Alternative speak to my soul.
Batman is my secret lover.
The ocean is my choir.
The beach my church.
The mountains my temple.
The forest my sanctuary.
Nature in general.
Lace.
And chocolate raspberries.
They are healthy!
Yep....
I love a lot more things than I hate.
Which is odd for a person of my stature.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Memories with the Family
This is a story not many have heard.
All true events,
But something I need to get off my chest.
I was very rebellious as a teen.
I was held under lock and key,
And was standing in someone else's shadow at a constant.
So obviously I had to be seen some how.
But one morning I was fighting with my father,
And he turned off my power to my room.
Now I was at a stage where looks were everything I was,
So I needed to blow dry my hair.
Being my spiteful self I took my blow dryer to my parent's bathroom,
Plugged it in,
And started to do my hair there.
He was not the happiest of men when I did this.
I foiled his plan,
Ruined his lesson he had planned for me.
He stomped into the room telling me to turn it off,
"Or else!"
But I didn't listen.
He then unplugged the hair dryer from the wall as expected,
But then unexpectedly shoved me into his closet
Forcing my back hardly into the built in shelves.
He had his face in mine,
Screaming out of hatred for me.
But I couldn't hear him because I,
My little 16 year old self,
Was screaming out of fear for my life.
No one came.
But when he was through putting up with my wiggling five foot body-
Only weighing in at ninety pounds because I suffered from anorexia-
He then turned me around twisting my arm behind my back
And pushed me out of his bathroom and bedroom.
He then shoved me down to the floor so I was on my hands and knees
And all I could do was crawl as fast as I could away from him.
My legs were too weak to stand and run.
Not from pain, Or fatigue.
From fear.
As soon as I reached my room
I fumbled to lock the door and as soon as I did
I busted into tears.
After calming myself enough to breath,
I called 911.
The cops came over,
But were fooled by my father's lies
Of how he never did anything but yell.
They checked my for bruises but were too early in doing so.
They didn't show up until the next morning.
So he was right to them.
To this day I am haunted with panic attacks because of this.
And other days he has done similar things.
I will never treat any living thing with such hatred because of this.
I learned through him that only grief and misery come afterwards.
My father to this day questions why I don't speak to him.
He thinks that he has done nothing wrong.
In fact, after an effort to explain to him why last night
He started to revert to his old ways after I told him about this reason,
Then later after I left his car he sent me this text;
"I'm sorry Erin I love you
but it just wasn't like you
are claiming now. The
reason I redirected you to
the closet in the first place
was because I was afraid
you were going to fall back
into the tub and get hurt. I
was trying to get the blow
dryer without hurting you.
I hope you can understand
I'm not going to let you
make a bad situation
worse by changing what
really happened. I think
even mom would agree
you were not hurt. Or at
least that you weren't hurt
to the point where you
would have to crawl back
to your room. Mom did
examine you at the police
request and there was NO
sign of any bruises or
anything. Please Erin
don't make it worse"
All true events,
But something I need to get off my chest.
I was very rebellious as a teen.
I was held under lock and key,
And was standing in someone else's shadow at a constant.
So obviously I had to be seen some how.
But one morning I was fighting with my father,
And he turned off my power to my room.
Now I was at a stage where looks were everything I was,
So I needed to blow dry my hair.
Being my spiteful self I took my blow dryer to my parent's bathroom,
Plugged it in,
And started to do my hair there.
He was not the happiest of men when I did this.
I foiled his plan,
Ruined his lesson he had planned for me.
He stomped into the room telling me to turn it off,
"Or else!"
But I didn't listen.
He then unplugged the hair dryer from the wall as expected,
But then unexpectedly shoved me into his closet
Forcing my back hardly into the built in shelves.
He had his face in mine,
Screaming out of hatred for me.
But I couldn't hear him because I,
My little 16 year old self,
Was screaming out of fear for my life.
No one came.
But when he was through putting up with my wiggling five foot body-
Only weighing in at ninety pounds because I suffered from anorexia-
He then turned me around twisting my arm behind my back
And pushed me out of his bathroom and bedroom.
He then shoved me down to the floor so I was on my hands and knees
And all I could do was crawl as fast as I could away from him.
My legs were too weak to stand and run.
Not from pain, Or fatigue.
From fear.
As soon as I reached my room
I fumbled to lock the door and as soon as I did
I busted into tears.
After calming myself enough to breath,
I called 911.
The cops came over,
But were fooled by my father's lies
Of how he never did anything but yell.
They checked my for bruises but were too early in doing so.
They didn't show up until the next morning.
So he was right to them.
To this day I am haunted with panic attacks because of this.
And other days he has done similar things.
I will never treat any living thing with such hatred because of this.
I learned through him that only grief and misery come afterwards.
My father to this day questions why I don't speak to him.
He thinks that he has done nothing wrong.
In fact, after an effort to explain to him why last night
He started to revert to his old ways after I told him about this reason,
Then later after I left his car he sent me this text;
"I'm sorry Erin I love you
but it just wasn't like you
are claiming now. The
reason I redirected you to
the closet in the first place
was because I was afraid
you were going to fall back
into the tub and get hurt. I
was trying to get the blow
dryer without hurting you.
I hope you can understand
I'm not going to let you
make a bad situation
worse by changing what
really happened. I think
even mom would agree
you were not hurt. Or at
least that you weren't hurt
to the point where you
would have to crawl back
to your room. Mom did
examine you at the police
request and there was NO
sign of any bruises or
anything. Please Erin
don't make it worse"
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