30 Mar 2012

Migraines and the World

A pain is in the back of my head, and it will not go away. At first, it seems like nothing, but it keeps building until I can't ignore it anymore. I feel a strong wave of nausea, and I know that another migraine is setting itself into my head for the next half hour to an hour without relenting.

Migraines suck, especially when you have a tough workload in front of you.

As I lay in bed after yet another attack on my brain, I ruminate on what it really means to live in this world. Does any of this really matter when you are in such pain? People who have had severe migraines like mine can relate to me when I say this: nothing matters once you are under attack. All that matters is the pain. You beg for it to stop, you want it to stop, but for the most part, you are helpless until the pain goes away. I curl into a ball, and hope that this time, this time the pain will not last as long. 

I believe that stress is the main factor behind my headaches. AP tests are around the corner, and I don't know what's keeping me from having a complete freak-out session. Sometimes, I just want to scream out in the air at no one. But I know that I can't. So, in order to compensate, my body has intense migraines that beat the hell out of my head. What the hell is the logic behind this?

Sometimes I taste blood in my mouth. Is it just me or is it a bad sign?

Anyway. I was thinking: Why are we worrying about unimportant things when they all become useless in the end? You can't take your money, your mansion, or your brand new Ferrari with you to the afterlife. So why are we being so cruel and mean to each other when all that we have now will not keep us from death in the end? Death is still the greatest thing that we have to fear.

Although money and honor are really important to us, we still have to look at our final destination no matter what. What do you want others to view you as a scrooge and a horrible person when you are gone, or do you want others to really feel sorry that you have left their lives? I would believe that everyone would choose the latter. Theoretically, everyone would want others to remember them in a positive light. I might be stating the obvious, but I guess some people just need that reminder. 

26 Mar 2012

Finding Inner Peace

Inner peace. What does that possibly mean? Turns out, we don't care what that means, because it doesn't matter what that definition means to other people. The main thing is that you find that space inside yourself that makes you happy. In other words, don't give an F what other people say and do it yourself. Everyone is different, and no one can say for the other what to feel when they are happy.

My journey to find myself has been pretty hard. I mean, I'm only a teenager. How am I supposed to know who I was when I barely started living? To me, it seemed more like a philosophical question than a question to be seriously found. Some people went on life quests in which they took years to discover what type of person they were. This strengthened my conviction that I was chasing something that was out of my tangible reach. I was more comfortable with things I could see and feel, not something spiritual. 

So I did not have a clear idea how to even begin my search. 

My friends were not much help. For the most part I was glad to get a blank stare in response to my question about true life. Otherwise, my Christian friends would start talking about how God already knows who you are, and we should be all happy that He does. Well, I wanted to know for myself who I was, and I was already ex-Christian, so I did not put much stock in what they had to say. Not that I did not consider their arguments, since I had been an avid believer myself not that long ago.

For the most part, after I turned Nichiren Buddhist, I found that finding what it means to be a person my age really means. Nichiren Buddhism preaches that we need to make peace in the world as we need to bring peace and harmony in our world. Yes, I know that sounds corny. Yes, I know that is not the "cool" view in which teens choose to view the world, but that is how I choose to view the world. That's what makes me happy. I mean, once I do good things for others, I feel good myself. I see myself as a charitable and nice person that people can get along with. But that's my own definition of who I am. I don't know how others would describe me, but I try my best.

My views of the world are pretty much set for life, as my parents drill me in their views as soon as I turned 5. (The age is probably an exaggeration. I don't remember when they started preaching their views in my ear). The way I choose to view the world have been affected by my parents in an unalterable way, and I guess I'm stuck with what I have. Whenever I want to think about how I see the world, I see what my parents already taught me.

Finding yourself is tough, and no one can honestly say that they have found themselves when they are prejudiced. For most of us, it's a lifetime journey.

20 Mar 2012

Standing Up

A group of guys surrounding what seems to be two girls. I allow myself an amused smirk. At least my parents would not let me hang out with so many guys when there were only two girls. First reaction: an uncaring attitude. How is it any of my business to see a group of people. I snort to myself. Who the hell did I think I was, Superwoman? Sometimes I'm so full of myself that its shocking.

But then my head snaps around. Did I know these people?

Wait. The guys were my cousins, and they have surrounded my friends. What in the world were they doing with each other? This doesn't make sense.

I creep a little closer. 

(I know, I know. It's none of your business. Why the hell are you creeping close when it's none of your business? You are probably wondering that when I am saying this. Let me tell you this: my cousins are not of a good sort. They have no business with my friends, so naturally I was curious.)

And you know what I hear? The following conversation:

"You are Gina's brats aren't you?"

Neither of my friends say anything. There really was nothing to say.

"Cheeky girls. When I tell you to talk, you talk. No questions asked. Guess we'll have to teach you a lesson to get your mouth moving, eh?"

My cousin and his band of goons spread out to surround my friends. I decide to make my move, and not let this situation get more out of hand. This was getting almost ludicrous. I felt as if I was living in some gangster movie, where I could be like Chuck Norris and bust some cool kung fu moves and be done with it. But of course that's impossible. I can't defend myself effectively for my life.

"What the hell do you guys think you are doing?", I ask in my scariest voice possible. (My voice was trembling.... I guess with both fear and rage.)

"What does it look like, fat dwarf? Since when did I listen to such a freak show as you? We're going to beat the crap out of your friends and then we're going to go get you."

"Big talk. Look, you can't tell your left hand from your right. Go back home to your mom and be done with it. Leave my friends alone."

"Oh, look now. Who's the little hooligan now?"

To make a long story short, my cousin and his gang surround me instead, and they come up and hit me one by one. I try to fight back, but of course I fail. I can barely fight one of them and get away, let alone five of them. Pretty soon, I lose track of time and just count from one to a hundred in my head over and over again. I hoped that my friends had the brains to run when they had the chance. After what seemed like hours, the demons finally run out and leave me alone.

I hear footsteps again and moan. I could not believe that it was not over. What surprised me was that my friends have come back to get me to the ER. They had been watching in the shadows, and had come out to get me as soon as my cousin went. 

I guess the point that I want to make is that standing up for what you really believe in is seriously important. Although, in my case, I had to be beat up to prove to myself that I could stand up for causes that I believe in, I could still do it. And if, in my cousin's words, a "fat dwarf" and "freak show" can do it, then I swear anybody can do it. It's more a matter of will than anything else. 

19 Mar 2012

Busy Work

I am a junior in high school, and now that second semester has started for a while, I need to study for AP tests and finals. Being a junior is being the worst age that you can be in school. It's the worst. As of a week ago, my teachers have been bombing my classmates and I with homework and tests. Frankly, I don't want my grades to go to hell. Junior year is proving itself to be an orgy of studying, which I assure you that I do not want to do. I would very much rather be doing this instead.

Most of the work assigned to me is busy work, but I have to do it nonetheless.

For now, I may not be updating this blog on a daily basis just because I am too busy with schoolwork. I have started this blog as a hobby/way to express myself. At first, I never expected blogging to take up so much time, but it has. As of now, I need to concentrate more on my schoolwork and tests. 

The class that is sucking up most of my time is APUSH. More than 100 words a week: that is insane. I have to memorize all of these words and explain their significance to American history. Too bad that I wanted to take this class. I am taking two AP's, three if I want to include the AP Chem test in May. Oh my dear. College would seem like hell if every class is like this. The college students that I know assure me that it is.

Don't worry: I'll be back after the third week of May. I will be occasionally writing a post or two if something important happens in my life that I feel is worth sharing with everyone. This blog is not "dead" until May. It will be kind of alive but not as alive as before.

Just a heads up.

15 Mar 2012

Meeting Someone New

The first time I saw Erin she was working as a clerk in  a Coach shop. How she got a job when we were about the same age, I have no idea. I was just looking over some bags, and not really paying much attention to my surroundings.

"Hi! May I help you with something?"

I jumped so hard that my heart nearly stopped. I looked around to see a girl at about my height and age. My mouth opened in surprise. I must have looked like an idiot for a second.

"Wait, you work here?"


I looked down at her name plate. It said "Erin" in bold letters. I looked at her face, and repeated the process. It was disorientating to see a person my age to be working already. I was still busy with my studies as a freshman. Wait, could you get a work permit as a freshman? Yes, you could.

"I think I saw you around at school or something."

"Yes, I saw you around, but we never got around to saying hi. You were always with those girls, and I couldn't bring myself to say hi."

"Oh, I see."

You see, I'm not good at introducing myself to new people. Especially if that person is a complete stranger. If I know that we have a mutual friend, then it gets better. I feel awkward and uncomfortable. My face gets all hot, and I stutter so much that I cannot imagine listening to myself. 

Erin looked at me as if I was experiencing an out of body experience. Which I probably was. All I could think about at that time was what I would to have her eyes. They were green with golden tinges in the middle. They were my dream eyes, so beautiful that I wanted to look into them all day. Then I felt something strange. Was it sparks? It felt like fireworks. I could tell that she was feeling the same thing. It was a feeling that was not unlike the feeling when you meet "the one", only in this case, it sounded a friendship that would be unlike any other. I had to shake myself to bring myself to reality.

I cleared my throat to make up for my temporary lapse in attention. The air was awkward between the two of us.  I wanted to say that I have seen her around school, throwing an occasional glance at my direction. I've noticed her, but never had the urge to talk to her. I felt so regretful that I didn't know her earlier, but happy that I know her now.  

That was the first meeting between Erin and I. Not that either of us knew at that time what that meeting would soon precipitate into. But I'm glad that we met. As of thus far, we have had an epic ride together. 

14 Mar 2012


High school is a place of challenges, a place where teens transition to adults and prepare to enter the world. Hopefully, we get to meet a variety of people as we go through our high school experience. As of this post, I would like to talk about my math teacher. If you are wondering, I am in Math Analysis (or Pre-Calculus). 

My teacher, Mrs. M, is from Sri Lanka. I would believe that if she didn't spend so much time trying to put down her students, she would be a brilliant teacher. I believe that she truly understands her material, else she would not be trusted to teach what she does. She sort of teaches the material to the class, and expects us to learn the rest. She expects us to ace the impossibly hard quizzes and tests that she gives out. Her impossible questions have such twists that they will leave you scratching your head. I assure you, half of the class is spent with her ranting of how math will affect us in math. If she's not doing that, she's talking about the alumni that she taught, or her sons. For the most part, I feel like raising my hand and saying, "What does math have to do with your sons? I know that you are proud of your sons, but please teach actual math." 

When we raise concerns about our grade and what we're learning, she accuses us of looking for excuses. What she doesn't seem to know is that math is not the passion of most students. These people are not and should not be expected to learn by themselves. There are people (not me) who go to the principal and say how hard her class is. I have to admit that I support them, whomever they may be. Mrs. M ought to be reported for the way that she treats her students who might be struggling with what they are expected to learn by themselves.

A classmate and I were discussing in quiet voices in Mrs. M's class of how students should be treated in a class like math. This class creates a vicious cycle with that attitude that Mrs. M creates. The more that Mrs. M yells at us, the less students want to try in the class. The less that students try, the angrier Mrs. M would be at us. Then grades are affected, and more students would drop the class because they are sick at being yelled at and staring at the big fat F on their report card.

We recently had a quiz in our class. Mrs. M always says that she gives these "fair" quizzes and that most of her tests and exams are based off of our homework and other assignments. I say that it is B.S. so pure that it's ridiculous. This quiz was so hard that I got a 23% on the quiz. Obviously, I am not pleased with what I got. Nobody will be pleased. I am so sick and tired of trying in this class that I am ready to drop. Last semester I BARELY squeezed through with a B. I passed with an 80.3%. That was how close that my grade was next to a C.

What I feel like saying is that such teachers should be fired. Unless it's an AP course, teachers should not push their students as hard as Mrs. M does. In other words, Principal Janet Anderson should re-evaluate Mrs. M's position.

13 Mar 2012

Waking Up

Thanks to "jp", I have tried to think in a more positive light. This post shows the fruits of my efforts. 

6:30 in the morning. My eyes snap open, not able to believe that I let myself sleep so late. I wake up to see the sun just coming out from the mountains and shining weakly in the window. The sun's already out! I scream in my head. I don't usually wake up this late, but I'm glad that I did.

I walked out to the porch, still in my sleeping clothes. The sun was shining on top of the trees. The sun was so brilliant that I had to squint my eyes. I was freezing my ass off, but I guess everything was worth it. The cold, the air, the sky. The air was so crisp that it woke me up like nothing else could. I was just glad that I was alive, and nothing else mattered at that moment. Things were filled with colors, colors that I neglected to notice before. I nearly laughed in my happiness to the air. Nothing could bring me down.

I believe that attitude changes everything.

Since I had woken up in such a good mood, I felt everything was right. And when I say that, I mean it. The house was not as empty as it usually seemed. Usually I start my mornings with gloomy thoughts of what would happen if I died or something drastic happened to me. After a while, I get so worked up and convinced that no one cared about me that I am on the verge of tears. Talk about an abnormal teen. 

I ate a rare breakfast with unusual zeal. (I usually skip breakfast. I believe myself to a really busy morning person. Only occasionally do I make time for myself to sit down and eat. I can't say that I have an eating disorder, but I can't seem to eat in normal amounts at once. Eat on the go if you can: that's my way. If I can't eat, then I find a substitute for something to eat. I have the unhealthiest diet in the world.)

I decided to try to push my lucky bubble a little further. I called Erin and asked her if she wanted to hang out with me. She sounded shocked that I would think of such an idea. I remember that I might have laughed at one point in our conversation. The noise surprised me. I couldn't remember the last time I actually laughed out loud. Smile, sure. But laugh? My last laugh seemed to have occurred an age and a half ago.

That day was the best day of my life. Or more accurately saying, that day was the best day that I had in a long time. I smiled at everyone, even random people on the street. I didn't know what happened to me.

I guess when my thoughts did not revolve around dark thoughts, I could do fine. I never tried to be negative in my life, I guess it's just how you choose to view the world that counts in the end.

11 Mar 2012


Let's admit it: we all have had our moments in which we wished we had a superpower. At least I have had my extreme moments.

I am sitting on my couch and I see my pencil literally 5 feet away. I stare at it and hope that it will somehow miraculously end up in my hand. I run out of money in Starbucks or somewhere and I wish I could summon my credit card and it will somehow appear in my face. I get really angry at a rude person in a supermarket, and I wish that I can somehow punish them without them knowing it was I who assaulted them. I wish that money would appear spontaneously in front of me whenever I wanted it to. Which is pretty much always. Sometimes I want to read my teachers' minds and see what the answer to question 8 is. 

But of course none of this is possible. If it were, I would be bursting with all the powers that I possess. It's simply impossible to have all of these things and still be able to lead a normal life. In fact, it would be highly abnormal. We all wish for things that we do not have, and once we have that thing that we have been wishing for, we often wish that we did not have it. Humans are paradoxical animals. 

Superpowers might be both harmful and beneficial at the same time. Although we have already established the fact that it is impossible for any of us to have any kind of superpower, I would still like to elaborate on the fact that some of us do have superpowers.

I once had this neighbor, Annie, who I consider a superhero. Her endurance and courage through the challenges in her life is what makes her so heroic to me. She was only two years older than me, almost a college student, and I looked up to her. Annie came from a pretty affluent family, and she seemed as if she was perfect. But as Annie turned out, her life was far from perfect. When she told me that she wanted to be like me, I was so shocked that I nearly fell off of my chair. Annie wanted to be like me? Who am I? I'm a nobody while Annie hangs out with the coolest people on earth.

Annie's parents were on the edge of divorce. All they had left was to sign the divorce papers. She felt as if the world was falling around her, and she felt as if everything was messed up. At first, I did not know what to say. I mean, what was I supposed to say? Here I was, having my idea of a perfect world destroyed around me. Annie was supposed to be perfect, her family, her world was supposed to be perfect. This type of thing was not supposed to happen. Not to her.

Pretty soon, Annie moved out of her parents' house to live by herself. The very fact that she picked herself up and moved on so quickly through her issues are what makes her so great in my eyes. Teenagers are usually disturbed with what their parents are going through. Annie managed to dodge the fallout that her parents made, and walked away unscathed. Not every teen is able to do that, and when Annie did this, I made this her superpower. The power not to be disturbed by any event, no matter how momentous.

Sometimes I wish I had that superpower.

7 Mar 2012


I consider myself to be a chess player even if I'm not that good. Chess is an essential piece of our lives, and if we want to learn how to control ourselves and those around us. Life is a game of chess even though we might not know it. 

The main problem is to know whether we are the player or pawn.

Angelique never really liked playing games. Any kind of game. I doubt she even liked playing dodgeball. And don't even start on her about games that require tactics. She is absolutely hopeless with choosing how to control pawns, how to worm her way through an opponent. Not that she was stupid, not that. She was just extremely lacking on how to use her brain. She could not think in twists and turns, could only think in one straight line. That was, I believe, one of the reasons why she got cheated on so often.

This one guy Chris, was much more devious than Angie. He was a stupid guy (low test scores: that's what I consider dumb). I even had to tutor him in math one time. I believe he was in Algebra 1 in high school. Seriously, that class was supposed to be done and over with in middle school. He was kind of a mean person: arrogant, thought he was a stud. Felt as if every girl was ready to fall head over heels over him. Pissed me off like nothing else can.

What I had a hard time digesting is how he managed to trick Angie. I mean, what kind of a brain must he have had to do what he did? The main factor was probably his looks. I swear, his looks are the only thing keeping his head above the water. Otherwise, no girl would go 5 miles near him. There is a saying that says looks can only get you so far in life. Chris knew that, and he made up the gap with his guile.

Angie and I were at this cafe eating one time when I saw Chris coming up to us. Frowning, I nudged Angie in the elbow and nodded slightly in his direction. Angie suddenly looked as if she was about to swoon. I was staring at both of them in shock. When was Angie ready to swoon over such a stupid guy? She knew how stupid he was.

They started dating pretty soon. But after the first couple of dates, we both started noticing small things about him that neither of us liked. He was always late, and sometimes, he would stand Angie up. On the occasions that he stood Angie up, he made up in some way. He got her flowers, got her a box of chocolates. He would act the gentleman when all he was was a snake. Of course, he had excuses. He was doing homework, his parents forced him to stay at home that night. All those were such obvious lies that I could not help myself to tell Angie. 

What she did was to keep listening and believing his lies.

Angie was a willing pawn. Chris was a smart king as he lied to Angie. It was surprising to see the ease in which he controlled other people. He could blind people to who he really was through such honeyed lies that the people were ensconced in his tongue. I believe that I have something to learn from him. Everyone does. The art of control. The art of losing something and then gaining something even better than before. Worming your way into people's heart is never easy, but with the right methods anyone can do it.. 

5 Mar 2012

Stood Up

The worst thing that someone can do is to stand someone up. It really pisses me off when someone does that to me. This shows extreme disrespect to the person being stood up. It's very irritating, and I can't help but swear at the people who stand others up. What kind of habits can't you pick up? Standing others up is simply annoying. The swearing occurs in my head of course. I'd be looking for fights if I swore out loud, and hell everyone knows that I cannot fight. Street brawl, sure anytime. But actually fight, no way. 

But back to my point: standing people up.

I had a "friend" called Alex* who had a habit of standing people like me up. I was only a freshman at that time, and I was not so people wise as I am now. After the first few times of her excuses, I tolerated her because I really wanted to be her friend. She seemed like a good enough person. But her excuses just kept rolling off of her tongue. It was irritating. She promised me that we can hang out over summer break. I was moving to another district in a couple of weeks, and I wanted to see her before I went.

Alex and I actually made plans to hang out during the summer. She said that she was open on Saturday, and we could hang out. As the day approached, I messaged her to make sure that everything was A-okay. And what did I get? I go on Facebook, and this is what I find, Sorry Gina! I have a basketball game this Saturday! Totally didn't mean to blow you off this weekend but I forgot.

Forgot my ass. True, she might have had a basketball game that weekend, but that doesn't explain all the other weekends she made excuses for. Again and again, she blew me off to do something else.

I actually saw Alex at summer school once. She was like, "Hey, I promise, PROMISE you that we will be able to hang out soon." Knowing her habit of standing me up, I didn't really trust her with her word. Lo and behold, we never ended up hanging out with each other over the summer. Or ever. I believe that it was the worst trust situation that I have ever encountered. What irritated me the most was that she said that she promised. And I think it is polite to always keep your promises, no matter how hard they are to keep. That's what I do. I feel sorry for Alex's parents. How did they raise her?

So this post is to you, Alex. I have neglected to say your name because I don't want you to hold your head in shame. Not that such a shameless person such as you would ever hold your head in shame. This post is to remind you what kind of person that I think you are. I really hope that you have changed and proved me wrong. If you identify yourself as this person, then by all means message me. I just might forgive you.

*Name has been changed so that this post would not embarrass the person that I am talking about. I don't know why I'm protecting this shameless person anyway. This denunciation would shame even the most self-absorbed girl out there.

Liebster Award

I got my first award!

Thank you to Dream Weaver http://debraharrisjohnson.blogspot.com/ for presenting me with this award. The award is for blogs with less than 200 followers and is a wonderful way to discover new blogs!

Dream Weaver has an interesting blog. I promise you guys will like her.

The rules for accepting this award are as follows:

1) Thank the person that nominated you on your blog and link back to them.

2) Nominate up to 5 other blogs for the award.

3) Let them know via comment on their blog

4) Post the award on your blog

The first blog that I would like to nominate is "Confessions of a Maine Teenager" confessionsofamaineteenager.blogspot.com She has a really cute blog that you will like.

Secondly, I would like to nominate Basil. http://marchrielo.blogspot.com/. She writes very well.

My third person is Mark. His website is http://theramblingperson.blogspot.com/.

Fourth is Belle http://belle-goodmorninggod.blogspot.com/.

Fifth is G at http://www.satiricalblog.com/.

These five blogs have very interesting material in each of them.

4 Mar 2012

Nightmares and Horror

I can't say that I like horror movies. They freak me out. But, sometimes, I force myself to watch these movies. Don't ask me why because I don't know why.There is some dark place in my mind that sort of likes these movies even when I make a freak show afterwards. I even make sure that I have the right atmosphere for the movie. Dark room, closed door. It's horrible. Horror is my least favorite genre. 

The graphics are, for the most part, so ridiculous that it's unbelievable. In a few minutes in these movies, gore starts spouting all over the screen, and there are people screaming everywhere. After the movie when I think of the gore, my stomach does a back-flip and I can't eat anything.

One time, I watched Nightmare on Elm Street, and the movie freaked me out like none other. I don't even know why I forced myself to watch that movie. It was horrible, and I couldn't even sleep that night because I was afraid that I would die that night in my sleep. There's something about these psychotic nightmares that really freak me out. I believe that for the most part, it's my imagination at work. I can't help myself: I start imagining things. I know what I'm dreaming isn't even real, but then I think it's real. Every sound, every creak that the floor makes is a potential murderer creeping towards me.

The worst type of horror is the type where friends and co-workers scare each other in practical jokes. They leap out of the trash bin, they hide in dark corners dressed up in freak clothes. Or they can just jump out and yell "Boo!" and scare the hell out of you. I hate that. Whenever someone scares me, my heart literally stops for a second and then starts beating again. I can actually feel my heart heave, then start again. I don't know what kind of reaction this is, I'm only assuming that it's natural.

One time, my friends and I were having a sleepover, and we just finishing watching a horror movie. I don't remember what the name was, but I remember I was pretty freaked out. I couldn't really sleep, but I drifted somewhere between sleeping and consciousness. Suddenly I felt something heavy fall on my arm and start creeping to my face. I got up with a jolt and started to freak out like no other. I felt as if I was near death in that encounter. It was the scariest two seconds of my life. 

I guess that I never forgave my friends for that.

There is something relieving about having someone else breathing next to you. At least you know there is someone with you, and they can help you get out of the room alive. It relieves the horror somewhat. Or even having the lights on when you go to sleep. That's why I keep the lights on when I go to sleep. I'm afraid of the dark, of what might happen. I am freaking 16, and I am still afraid of the dark. Sometimes I freak myself out by my weirdness. I always to have a tennis racket close at hand whenever I go to sleep. At least I can use it as a club if someone were to attack me.

I just felt as if it would be interesting to talk about my experiences with horror.

3 Mar 2012


I remember one day when you talked to me about my sexuality. You were afraid that your daughter would become one of them, one of the people in which you thought to unnatural. You were in the car, talking about me as if I wasn't there. Talking to me but not looking at me. Always pretending as if your daughter wasn't there. Never once thinking that your daughter might need you on this topic. I know how much this conversation rubbed against your fibers, how you couldn't believe that you even had to address this topic. How inconceivable it was to you for people to like others of the same sex.

I will never forget the panic in your eyes when you said that you suspected that your daughter might be lesbian. The shame that you were afraid of bearing. How your voice rose a couple of octaves when you voiced your suspicions. Your face flushing as you denounced same-sex couples, denouncing them for going against the natural order of things. You did not care that I was sitting in my seat in absolute shock, because you needed to say what was on your mind before it was too late. You felt as if you needed to rescue your daughter before she announced that she was really lesbian.

You made it seem as if liking girls were a crime. The way your hand slashed through the air as you explained why being lesbian was not okay. How ashamed you would be if your daughter turned out that way. You never once looked me in the eye when you were saying this. One did not have to be a rocket genius to figure out what you meant by "that". You spoke of same-sex couples as one would speak of cockroaches. It was horrible, because I knew that I was the cause of your concerns, and I wanted to say sorry. I wanted to say that I would never make you ashamed on this issue. 

Only I didn't.

Because I was confused at that time. I didn't know what I wanted. For the most part, I didn't even know myself, and I was scared. I wanted to talk to you about this issue, but I was afraid that you would explode. How you would scream at me. We never had a really close relationship anyway, as you are always gone somewhere. I had no one to go to anymore on such issues, so I did not know what to say. I didn't know how to say what was in my mind, because I didn't even know what I was feeling.

I don't remember anything else that we did that day. I don't care to remember anymore because that conversation is forever embedded in my mind. I remember how your finger jabbed in the air as you denounced same-sex couples. How anger over your daughter's behavior colored your tone.

What I want to say with this post is that you have nothing to worry about. Your daughter would never turn out the way you feared. Your fear was baseless.

2 Mar 2012


For the past couple of years, I have struggled with these crippling bouts of depression that seems to pop out of nowhere. Not that it makes me suicidal or anything, but it's crippling just the same. I would sit in my chair, sometimes for days, and not move. I wouldn't eat, sleep, or do anything. It sometimes scares my parents, but they never really cared about me, so I guess it was their natural reaction to leave me alone to my own devices. As long as my grade didn't drop, I was fine.

I guess I started getting depressed when my best friend died. I should not have been affected the way I was, but some things just never leave you. I was scarred so deep that I didn't recognize myself. My parents told me that for once, they were concerned with what might happen. I sat in my room for days looking out the window, not moving, not able to believe that my mentor, the only person in the world to bother to understand who I was, was gone. The world seemed as if it was falling around me. I didn't know what to do, what to feel. I didn't care what other people thought about my behavior. I believe that I went briefly insane.

Whenever I feel depressed, I feel as if there is no hope for me. The world as I knew it seemed to fall apart and I am left alone. I have literally no one to talk to. No one seemed to be listening. No one seemed to care. My parents are rarely there for me, and when they are I don't know how to talk to them. I don't have friends that I trust enough to say anything to. Some of the people that I know at school are so insane and immature that sometimes I want to say, "How did I know you? We are on different maturity levels." But I don't say that because I don't want to hurt anyone. Sometimes, I wouldn't have been surprised if I woke up in the morning to find myself very dead.

Usually, when I feel a round of depression creeping up, I would lock myself up in my room and not come out. One time, I laid on my bed and refused to move. After about 24 hours of not moving, I finally got up because I was too hungry. I tried looking for food in my house, but there was none. I found some leftover cake, but it was too stale. I could not believe that I left myself in this situation. I was starving, and there was no one to make any food for me.

I don't think that what I had was true depression. What I mean is that maybe it's not clinical and I didn't need medication. My depression for the most part just comes and goes as it chooses. I guess some parts of it is triggered by my subconscious and I try  to protect myself from whatever is hurting me.

For the most part, teenage problems are overrated. Most teens who kill themselves don't realize that the people who bully them are only temporary placeholders in their lives. Yeah, they can be hurtful, they can make your life hell, but they are there for only a while. They don't matter. But most people don't realize that. What is happening to them seems to be their whole lives. They don't see what's in front of them, neither do they see anything nice that is surrounding them. They consider themselves depressed, but the reality is that their self-esteem is so low that they believe themselves as low as the bullies say they are. No offence, but that IS dumb of you.

Anyway, back to my depression thing. I'm trying to get past my bouts depression, but I don't know whether I'm succeeding or not. I'm sick and tired of being scared and waiting for my depression to hit me. I've decided to fight back.