I sit in my now even messier apartment.

It has been torn apart with my feeble attempts at packing. 

I can’t do things at night.

I work much more productively in the morning.

I think I’ll resign to doing that.

Getting up in 5 hours. 

It’s just causing me to panic more about this damned trip.



I’m still choking.

Choking on the idea that you want me.

I just can’t fathom…

Someone as incredible as you. Wanting me in your life.


I’m gasping for air, the next time I see you.

Holding my breath. I can be patient.

You’re amazing. Incredible. Smart. Refreshing.

I’m clutching onto things to remember. The smell of you right after you shower. The feel of your skin. The deep color of your eyes. The sound of your laugh.

Are you choking as well? Do you at times find it harder to breathe? Does your heart start and stop suddenly? Can you feel it beating? Can you feel your lungs expand? Can you feel your breath? Hear it? See it? Smell it? Taste it?

I can’t help but know you haven’t noticed. Breathing is natural. Involuntary. Necessary.

I miss you terribly already.

I will miss you until the day I have all those things back.

I will miss you until the day air returns to my lungs.

Until then, I’ll hold my breath.

And choke out of happiness knowing you’re happy.


There’s a lot for me to do today.

It’s 1:47 PM.

I’m still freaking out over my Music Theory grade.

I’m just not sure what to expect. 

Did I honestly flunk?

I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’m not sure how to face my professors with that news.

Granted, only one of the two major professors I work with know about my circumstances and what I’m doing to fix them.

I really should tell the other one.

He’s the one I’m worried about though.

He’s my studio professor.

And I can’t help but feel like a fuck-up in front of him.

I’ve talked in past posts how I believe I made it into the studio.

I’m thinking more and more that it was sheer, dumb luck.

Because I wasn’t even slightly aware of what life was going to throw at me.

And I’m almost positive now that I am a regret. A stain. An ugly, embarrassing stain in the studio.

I honestly don’t deserve to be in the studio. I make fun of my status all the time. I can’t even pick up a saxophone without freaking out now.

I need to tell him though.

I also need him to sign some papers for me.

Then this whole “All-Stars Competition” that I’m in charge of.

I need to step down.

More importantly, the president of our fraternity needs to let me step down.

I did not want this position, or I would have declined the position had I been aware it was in my power to do so.

Instead, they threw it at me.

And I tried to step down early, back in October, during my hospital stay.

The president really didn’t want me to.

So I stayed.

I shouldn’t have stayed.

I’m just full of regret and regrets right now.

All at Once

It’s nearly 4 in the morning.

I’m still awake.

I’m freaking out.

I legitimately believe that I failed Music Theory this semester.

Why, you may ask?

I missed a lot of class. Missed even more assignments.

It’s not that I don’t know how to do music theory.

I got a 98% on the written final. 99% on the Sight Singing Exam. 97% on the aural training final.

I know how to do music theory.

It’s literally just with everything I went through this past semester, I just flopped.

I flopped at the attendance. I flopped at the work load. 

I couldn’t stop myself from having panic attacks every time I opened up my book.

Each time I logged onto the online course page.

I have this problem with avoidance so my therapist says.

This time last year, I couldn’t even open up my email due to severe panic attacks.

At least I’m not that bad.

I’m just about to have one now though.

Mostly due to exhaustion, anxiety, and disappointment.

How in the fuck did I let myself get this bad this semester?

I was fucking hospitalized for hurting myself on a daily basis.

No, that’s not the right question to be asking.

How am I still breathing after everything that happened this semester?

I know myself better. Had all this happened a year ago, I probably wouldn’t be.

Pride and shame would have brought me down. Lack of confidence doesn’t help either.

I know myself well enough to know that I would have at least made one suicide attempt by now.

But then again, I’ve grown as a person more in the past year alone. At least, my belief system is different than it was before.

Maybe that’s why I’m still breathing.

I could go on, but the lag on this page slows down my thought process and frustrates me too much. I can’t write freely if the page keeps doing this lagging bull shit.

It is comforting to know though that I’m not stupid. Well, I am for not having the work done/not going to enough class/not letting my professor know more about my situation as to eradicate these issues so I could pass the class without further thought. 

It is comforting to know that I am good at music theory and could retake the class and pass provided I just show up and do what I need to do instead of flailing about panicking over my life.

I need to get better at this whole living thing before I try to do it all at once.

Deserving Happiness: Is Coffee Making Me Feel Life (A Scatter-Brained Post)

The thing I did was wrong.

The thing I did was coffee at 11:00 PM.





I’m just wide awake now. I was thinking I’d take melatonin supplements to help me sleep tonight right after work so I could be up at 7:00 AM tomorrow and do work.


Not. Happening.

But with this coffee thing, I was hoping to Skype Calvin for at least a little bit.

No response. 

Oh well.

I’ll just wait until… whenever I guess? 

I honestly have no idea what his sleep schedule is like right now.

Or any kind of schedule he has right now.

I would just like to Skype with him once before I leave for the bowl trip on Sunday.

I’m sure that’ll happen. If not, it’s not a big deal. He’ll just have to deal with my interesting HMB people barging into my room and requiring attention if we Skype on the trip. Or people complaining about me being antisocial. Whoops.

That’ll probably happen anyway though.


Seriously though.

Why did I do this coffee thing?

Because I’m stupid.



My coworker did it too. But he’s negating the effects with copious amounts of alcohol.

The struggle of not being 21 yet in America is real.

Very. Real.

Okay, maybe I don’t really care that I can’t legally drink yet.

I mean, it hasn’t stopped me, but I know I really shouldn’t be drinking it anyway due to my health and such so it’s not like I’m crying over that small fact.

Okay. Only crying a little bit.



Same thing.


I find myself… loosing myself more often lately.

I’ve been overly happy.

I honestly have no idea why.

Maybe it’s the whole “school is over” right now thing.

Then I start thinking about classes and my heart starts pounding and I can’t make it stop and I feel like I’m going to vomit.

But then I think of the next time I walk into class, Calvin will be back which is better.

I do miss him.

I do miss him quite a lot.

And then I start thinking about summer and how much that is going to suck.

Provided we are still together.

God. I need to stop over thinking things.

I just, can’t accept the fact that I’m happy with him right now. Or that he could be happy with me. The idea is not only foreign, but rejected by my corrupt mind.

The real struggle of living with a mood disorder.

With mood disorders.

I’m just ready to start feeling happy.

More importantly, I’m ready to start feeling like I deserve happiness.

The bigger question – do I really?

Don’t give me “of course you do” bull shit.

Am I really entitled to such things?

Or is this society’s “little bitch of living”?

Deserving happiness.

What a fickle thing.


I’m quite proud of how well I’ve handled myself today.

Taking him to the airport wasn’t easy.

Having to say goodbye twice was even worse.

I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

To say I miss him terribly would be an understatement.

I just have to keep thinking of how quickly this time will pass. It’ll be okay. It’ll be fine. He’ll be okay. He’ll be fine.

He’ll have a wonderful time and he better!

I’m just really tired.

And I just really miss him.


I am unapologetically myself.

Sometimes, it terrifying to wonder what people think of me.

I’m not sorry though.

I’m abrasive. I’m strong. I’m goofy. I’m smart. I’m loyal.

I’m not sorry though.

You’re beginning to act the same.

I’m falling and not sure where I’m going to land.

And that’s thrilling.

True Misery

I really have this dark thing over me.

My sister is recently engaged.

I’m almost done with the semester.

Christmas is almost here.

I have a wonderful boyfriend, the guy that I’ve practically been in love with for almost 2 years now.

I have a great job.

My loan materials are turned in and now it’s just the waiting game.


How can I feel so morbidly awful?

I want to rip the skin right off my body.

I want to vomit my insides out.

I want to die.

I want to be back, confined in that hospital.

A week from today, I hope I will be in that hospital.

I’d prefer that to the alternative.

I’m so incredibly overwhelmed right now. I feel like such an utter failure.

I see one thing, and I become increasingly paranoid. I can’t keep living…. “living” like this.

Last night with Calvin was pretty miserable.

I just…. got caught up in my mind. Couldn’t relax. Couldn’t enjoy myself. Felt awful and disgusting the whole time.

I feel like I have a small understanding of what it felt like for Sean.

This is true misery, my friends.

Hate and Masochism

How much hate does it take to kill a person?

One hate?

Two hates?

A million hates?

You know, as far as I’m concerned, that wasn’t the bargain here.

I was supposed to be learning how to love myself more.

Not get better at picking out my own flaws.

So many people tell me I’m selling myself short.

Am I really happy in this or am I simply blinding myself because I say that this is what I’ve always wanted?

Am I causing myself so much more pain because I am a true masochist?


We got mad.

We made up.

My sister is now engaged.

You’re exhausted.

I just wish I could tell you everything without feeling like I’m burdening you.

I was thinking the other night, maybe I’d let you read this some day.


That’s not going to be a thing.

I won’t say never, but this is advice to myself to not let that happen. 

Say the things I need to say face to face. Don’t let you read this.

I’ve written too many horrible things for that to be even close to okay.

I’ve written too many embarrassing things for that to be even close to okay.

One is not stronger than the other. They are equal.

They are pretty much everything I’ve written.




Pardon me. Holy cow. I’m participating fully in this “Throwback Tuesday” thing. Not really. I think it’s actually supposed to be on Thursday, but whatever.

Pardon Me by Weezer. This is a great song.

I have some really great music.

I know a lot of really great music.

I just forget because I listen to so much good music.

Mostly, lyrics.


So. Good.



So much good music.


I guess I should start by being more honest.

It’s not that I lie to you. I don’t think I could do that.

I just don’t tell you the full truth.

You ask a question, I answer it, you seem satisfied before I’ve finished answering, I can see you’re stressed, you have heavy bags under your eyes, so I shut my mouth.

You start talking again.

My cuts are itching.

They’ve been itching lately.

Like… most of them are scars now. I’ve got a couple of pink ones. I think those are the ones that are itching.

I like that you respect the privacy with them.

My dad….

When I was in the hospital, he just took an opportunity. He was saying goodbye to me, and as he was saying goodbye to me, he pushed his hands up onto my shoulders and was feeling the cuts. The scars. The scabs.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been more angry at him in my whole life.

I felt so incredibly violated. So disrespected.

He could have asked.

Instead, he figured he’d go about it in his own way.

It still makes me mad just thinking about it.

That also reminds me…

I wrote while I was in the hospital.

I never posted it – it was all hand written since they took my laptop. 

I should post it.

The Hospital Chronicles. 

One of these days over winter break where I’m bored and don’t have to work.

I’m tired.

And Calvin’s in the shower.

I’m scared.

I think he is too.

That’s why we’re working well right now.

We don’t know what’s going to happen in our future.

And that terrifies us.

So we cling together. We lean on each other.

I felt so incredibly horrible.

He got upset. Reminded me that he needs me to support him from time to time too.

Trust me, I never forget that.

I’m just selfish. 

So we lean a little more.

I think I should trust him more.


That’s scary.