Today was exhausting. I wasn't quite as tired a I thought, but I am now.

I am now.

Barbie/Ken

Poem: "Barbie And Ken 101"
Poet: Rafael Casal

sometimes I feel like I'm sittin' in the back row of Barbie and Ken 101
a class we are all in, but never seem to learn from
Some general ed requirement for
Students of American culture
A GE that convinces even the brightest
of young women that sex is survival of the thinnest
and I'm sick of this education that doesn't serve our best interests
my teacher has no face
she is every Revelon model women have ever chased
her lectures come through magazines in beauty shops & add campaigns,
shit
just turn on your tv
this just in, a skewed perspective for todays youth y'al ladies aint thin enough, fellas aint trim
enough, wanna be sexy?
Y'al don't go to the gym enough, cut to commercial, common just come tune
in to our maintenance team, convince you're ugly then tell you how to fix it with maybeline
Perpetually started by these dolls marketed in the late 50's named
Barbie and Ken
hence the
class I'm in
Are you following?
Shit didn't end
They keep moldin' Barbie to fit new trends
next maybe they'll have club hoppin' Barbie
With thongs as accessories
video hoe Barbie
abusive boyfriend sold separately
underaged Barbie
Cobey Bryant included
or 9/11 victim Barbie
and Ken is proud to get recruited
problem is all these teachings are womans decay
and I'm startin' to worry cuz my girl is up front and she's getting an A
this is where I start getting pissed off ok
when the fuck did it become all about
tuckin' in the gutt I gotta get the bigger breast
shit I wanna fit a little better in a dress
so let me get a little skinny gotta fit into an itty bitty
size slimmer so I livin up the chest
please
teacher teacher I wanna give my oral presentation
cuz I have a problem with the class, and matter of fact, I have, a fat ass grudge with the
whole administration
you're the reason my girl won't eat in front of me in restaurants

the reason that she thinks she's overweight in over ten spots
less gut less pudge less lunch less real, more looks more love more Barbie
appeal?
fuck Barbie and Ken
My future daughter will never play with them
you're the reason bleedin' 15 year old girls arms are slit
You made 12 year olds think skinny was a compliment
And now it's too late
I can't write my way through this bathroom door
So I raise my hand in class cuz I can't stand it any more
Teacher teacher your lectures all backwards
You got mothers and daughters forgetting what matters
Cuz above tits, ass, lips, legs, and ugs
The most attractive women are the ones who don't give a fuck
So screw your teachings your lessons and plans
You skewed sick distant relative of the man
Your plan for brainwashin' my baby I reject
I'm walkin' out of this class, and I will proudly take, my F

Triumphant arch of neck
trumpet of hooves in earth
air filled with panting and
air filled with sweating

majesty is a brute beast.



I really need to start looking outside my cubicle, where all the other little army ants are fuming about their own little issues. Just because I'm constantly shitstained doesn't mean that I deserve more anything. Hypomania is a bitch, but I'm not, and I'm more than just hypomanic.

Vulnerability is both thrilling and terrifying. Rejection is vicious... but acceptance is the greatest rush I've felt, so gracious and kind despite everything else in the world.

I am incredibly fortunate. God has filled my life with great tragedy and triumph. I will try to be as nonchalant as possible about this.

I discovered my grandparents as my mother fell into postpartum depression and then divorced my father. I found Debell, Walker, Erskine, Wright. They were there through divorce, moving, depression. I loved dearly Kimberly, to whom I also owe my life for saving me from my own suicide... or rather, being there when I saved myself after a long string of desparate cries through self-mutilation. Now, my life is filled with caring from both my peers and parentals. I've balanced out being beaten and molested with being showered with affection. My constant craving for nurturance has led me down the road of starving for salvation, and I am constantly lifted up again.

I will never be good enough. NEVERnevernever. I always need to hurt myself, make myself more worthy of what I want. This is terrible, but I just want to be loved, and until I find myself deserving, I will keep on hurting myself. The emotionial and physical abuse I have suffered at the hands of myself and others is staggering at best. I have not been taught to do things half-assedly. That's bullshit and I know it.

SAVE ME.

the weekend is a beastly thing with tentacles.

This is me, past the point of deconstruction and closer to edge of desolation. I am lying through my teeth again, grasping desperately at the straws to make myself an okay person... but it's hard to forget how I lie. I lielielie like a dirty fleabitten dog.

My depression felt neverending. I was lashing out at others and at myself, practically begging to be saved, but no one ever saved me. I fell and fell until the world tilted on it's axis and I fell up. Closer to normalcy than I had been in a long time. That may have been the beginning of my bipolar disorder.

Today I cried in Speech and Debate, because I was scared and having flashback&forths, as I affectionately call them. One of the loves of my life said I kept fucking up because I was passionate. That was earlier this morning. I starved my emotions for two years, and still do, off and on. I feel broken now that I have my feelings back. Here's why I need to quit lying: I've been hurt and hurt myself innumerous times. I'll go into detail and specifics later.

To the ones I Love and Hate,

I won't be joining you today, no, not in an attempt at normalcy. I was stumble-stuttering at school yesterday, and it was better than normalcy. Today I won't scotch-tape life back together, but I will caffeinate and be better than I am now.

Forbidden is the look that I'm obtaining.

I am not quite sure if I'm ready, but I am going for it.
I have to make everyone proud. Havetohavetohavetohavetohaveto!

Dear Everyone Who Loves Me,
Thanks a bunch!

warningwarningwarning&alarm

look away if you're frightened of skeletons!


LOOK AWAY.


























I wish I could express how much these photos make me want to cry, but I can barely believe. If you never noticed, I have to ask you... how could you? I blame myself, always and forever... but how?

I just wanted to escape, but Lord, I locked myself in such a cage. I could barely breathe within those confinements. I need air in which to stretch my wings, my massive wings composed of flesh and feathers.

I just want to tell everyone what happened. I was born unto an unprepared mother and an detached father. I was both a blessing and a burden. I was used for their comfort. I was told to be thankful even for things that I thought I deserved. Postpartum depression hit my mother hard and she went away, though I wasn't consciously aware of it. My dad stayed up late and played video-games, a crippled product of insomnia and ADHD. They were unhappy with me and with each other, so they divorced. My parents' parents were the only ones who came close to knowing how to look after me, and they tried their best to do so. Eventually my mother remarried to a parental figure of her own, and my father was often my playmate. I grew up being told I was spoiled and then contradicted by being showered with material possessions. My mother was undiagnosed, having bipolar disorder and often going into manic periods of making unaffordable purchases. My father's ADHD kept him playing the role of companion rather than parent as he never grew into the role of exhibiting signs of responsibility or adulthood. I was often told and shown two different examples to live by. Hugs were as common as arguments, if not less so. I never worried about my looks, though I remember adults' comments about my appearance contrasting the comments of my peers. It still didn't bother me. I grew up wild and free, without boundaries. I was a tooth-gnashing, snarly-haired little beast covered in dirt and grass stains. I wasn't told 'No' often enough, though at the time I loved it. At the age of 10, my mother started seeing other women. That was when I began to have the growing suspicion that she loved me less than before. When I turned 11, my mother and stepfather separated and my mother moved the two of us into her friends' house briefly before we moved in with her new girlfriend. I hated leaving this city. Her girlfriend blamed me for a lot of their problems, and often said I was manipulating my own mother. We didn't get along. One night at the girlfriend's family's house, a guy who was at least five times older than me touched me inappropriately. I have just recently been able to tell people this, and I still catch myself placing the blame squarely on my own shoulders. When I was 13 we moved out, back to the city I loved. She got a new girlfriend soon enough, another one who was emotionally manipulative and blamed me for their issues. I was honest and said I didn't like her, and I was punished. My mother told me that we couldn't afford for her to be single. That was when I definitely began to feel that I was no longer a blessing, but a great burden to be carried halfheartedly. We moved out of the shitty apartment where we had been living and into a house near my best friend and my school. My mother and I got into physical fights and violent arguments as I went through my manic period. The girlfriend was sympathetic but completely unhelpful and said nothing about the physical violence against me. I was 15 when we got into the worst of it, and I left the fight with bruises after she pushed me to the ground. Eventually she broke up with that girlfriend, and I stopped taking the medication that made me so aggressive. At 16 I had gained weight and my mother negatively reinforced it, so much that I was ashamed of my body. She started seeing a new girlfriend, and we competed for my mother's attention. Once again, I felt that she was choosing her girlfriend over me. I started starving and purging after binges. I lost weight. I fought with my mother and with her girlfriend, and they chose each other over me every single time. Lost more. We moved in with her girlfriend. Lost more. Rules. Lost more. Restrictions. Lost more. Fights and arguments. Lost more. She kicked me out. Lost more. I stayed at my grandparents'. Lost more. I stopped seeing my friends. Lost more. They kicked me out. Lost more. Went back to live with my mother and her girlfriend. Lost more. I started over-exercising. Lost more. Got kicked out after only a few weeks. Lost more. Went back. Lost more. Went vegan. Lost more. School ended. Lost more. I turned 17. Lost more. Quit every other addiction. Lost more. School started up again. Lost more and more and more. I couldn't stay awake in school or focus enough to do even one assignment. I couldn't wear my old clothes. I couldn't hang out with friends. I couldn't look in a mirror. I couldn't eat, couldn't not eat. It became too much, and I knew I had to go away. I couldn't cope with the outside world. Before even agreeing, my mother said it wasn't bad enough at that point. My therapist, nutritionist, psychiatrist, and physician all recommended that I go somewhere and get help, but she said it wasn't bad enough. At my height and build, I was so underweight that I bruised where my bones rubbed against my yellowing skin. My hair fell out. My eyesight went bad fast. My nails split. My teeth chipped. I could barely walk and always felt tired, I could barely sleep and always felt exhausted. I couldn't think without obsessing over food and exercise and my shape and weight. I couldn't stand without my vision going dark. So I went away for two months. I got out. Now I'm here, walking a very fine line.

If you never wanted to see, I don't blame you. If you never want to see this again, why would you?

Whoa, never knew citing shit could be so tedious. Daaaamn. Now for NOTECARDS, then powerpoint, then product board, then letters and speech and outfit. blahblahblah. I'm going to upload the finished thing soon.

I'm feeling so much better, lovelies. Thank you for being so wonderful, each and every one of you--there's nothing wrong with being selfish every once in a while! It's hard to be out and about, stripped down to the nerves and exposed so raw to be touched by everything that comes your way. It hurts... badly. I don't know how to describe it, but sometimes I get so happy I cry because it is just too much. I have to be handled gently right now, and most people seem to think that I'm right and ready to be jostled around a bit. They're wrong, but they've got the right idea in that I need to build up some tolerance. Maybe then I will be able to experience things head-on and full-force.

Until then, be careful, my deers. Just know that I'm in my tiny lavender pupae, wrapped up tightly, strengthening my wings as quickly as I can.

I can't wait to be free.