I’m feeling very happy tonight August 27, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Feelings , add a commentI just can’t wait until the day I snap that way I can just say “screw the social norm” and just share my joy with everyone!
Memory is a fickle mistress August 25, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentSo after thinking about an article I read about a girl who has psychosis, I’m begining to doubt wether or not I am too. There are alot of paralells, but I dunno. The person said that it generaly “creeps up” on people, little flashes, before it becomes full-blown episodes. The parents realized after the psycologist told them this that they realised that she had been having flashes her entire life even though they were so shocked by her sudden outbursts. I thought about this for a bit….and realised by their standards, technicly I have too.
i didn’t think anything of it, I’d be paranoid on the bus ride to school that the other kids could read my thoughts, that even now how I believe that everyone is talking about me behind their backs, that I had the power to reflect people’s true emotions in intense situations. You could say that’s just kid stuff but aparently it isn’t.
And can you really call what my expiriences with the others anything BUT hallucinations? I know my past, I know that nothing traumatic ever happened to me to create what feels like seperate identities in my head when they feel the need to speak up for themselves.
The one difference is that my behaviors are not like hers, sometimes how I wish that I could act out my feelings but I don’t because of the paralyzing fear that people would mock me for it, wether to my face or behind my back.
As I was pondering this, I wanted to make a poem in dedication to Skye, who I think I unintentionaly let down because my mind never made the connections to realise that she was in a really bad situation to do anything. But you know what? I can hardly remember anything from that time period.
From that time, here is what I DO remember:
. My “friends” were three spoiled rotten children, I felt so bad for the mom that I always offered to help her in whatever she did. My behaviors I’m sure were similiar to her own children’s at one point or another in my life, but the difference being that they never seemed to understand or appreciate all that their mom did for them. Here are the things I remember doing together with them:
. Played baseball and some other outdoorsy games
. They pulled a trick on me once by pretending that we were talking to ghosts, they would hold a marker to the white board, and then I would hold onto it too, and then the “Ghost” would write down a message. They told alot of stories about abused and murdered children, oddly enough, and then they pretended that a ghost would haunt me forever. Well, it was a nice prank for them but I really believed it was real and started getting hysterical, they really had to apologize alot and kept saying that it wasn’t real and they were only joking. Ghosts really scare me.
. We built a tiny, (and very well controlled) bonfire in the middle of the driveway during the 4th of July…we had a blast toasting marshmallows and hotdogs over it but the landlady was REALLY mad at us though and dumped a gallon of water over the thing which I swear was just a 1 square foot little fire that was surrounded by bricks and stones anyways so that was a little overkill…being kids we thought it was SO out of line and unreasonable of her, and were shocked that our parents were just as mad at us when we told them about it!
. they would play a game called psycho were they made themselves pass out and the other people would interveiw them to see what they’d say. Oh my god, this game freaked me out so bad! I couldn’t watch, I just hid behind their door, peeking in. They told me I was acting really weird and that it wasn’t a big deal.
. Exploring the woods
. This one little brat of a child who would always pick on me. He made me so angry!
. sometimes I’d overturn rocks just to look at the bugs crawling around, and feel their bottoms for warmth during those summer evenings, I’d also hop around and paw and the sand like an animal when I felt alone, if there was an island up mud in a puddle, t suddenly became a nation with a rich history and culture.
Skye August 25, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Memories, Musings , add a commentI don’t know why her story popped into my head over the past day or so. But it did, and with this new insight on things that I didn’t have years ago, it makes things seem alot clearer.
When I was younger, about 12 or so, we had this next door neighbor (if you count the family that lives on the other side of your townhouse your nextdoor neighbor) her name was Skye. I don’t remember much of that little girl, except she was very cute, with her long blonde hair and pretty eyes, she liked to play with me and my “friends” at the time. She didn’t talk, but she was little, so I never thought anything of it.
anyways, after a while, the parents started getting into alot of fights. They would scream and scream at eachother. Probably hit eachother hit eachother too. When they got into fights, I started feeling sad and I’d just bounce a ball off of the garage door for hours…just sadly contemplating why people just couldn’t get along. Eventualy they moved, after abandoning their cat… which they kind of neglected all winter anyways (we adopted her but sadly she was hit by a car shortly afterwards) Months later, the police came to our door, saying if anyone here owned a white such-and-such kind of car. I didn’t know anybody, because I don’t know cars, and it didn’t ring a bell with my mom and step-dad either so they left. Funny, my step dad remembered a few minutes later that the car they were looking for belonged to Skye’s parents.
Strange to think really, that for such a long time we lived so close to those kinds of irresponsable parents, bad people really, but didn’t even know it. I guess tonight I’ll cry for Skye and hope that she will be okay.
I remember those days, so clearly I do. The thud of the ball against the ball, the ping it made on the ground as it bounced back to me in perfect rhythm, it wasn’t even my ball, but I was in a trance, humming little songs to myself, a trance so filled with sorrow, that I really didn’t even care. I felt like crying, maybe I did, I was never one for fighting.
The Magical Peanut Queen August 16, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentBah. I’m feeling depressed.
Maybe writing a little fairy tale will cheer me up.
I’ll post it later though
Intoxicated Butterflies August 10, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentIt’s so hard to concentrate
Just want to fly away
Dash from one thing to another
Maybe I’ll outrun my thoughts
But that’s impossible
Alot of nice things happened to me though lately
Horrific News Story (*TRIGGER* CHILD ABUSE) July 24, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentSo today, we were talking at dinner time. My steo-dad told me this story, about how they found a little girl (to be exact: 3 years old) in the middle of a very busy road around here…just wandering. Nobody stoped to help here, they just drove by and beeped their horns. Finaly a pair of cars desided to stop in order to block the trafic until the cops came to help the child and such.
This child was…very severely abused. Apparently she went to the hospital because she had a broken arm and rib, but when she arrived, they also found out that she was sexualy abused and had clumps of her hair missing from when they ripped it out.
My mom has faith in the foster care system, that she’ll go into a foster home and be adopted into a family so she can live as normal of a life as possible. She thinks that the youngest of the abusers (her brothers) have the SLIGHTEST chance of being rehabilitated. My step-dad got into rant-mode though, about how broken the foster care system is and how they were SICK and were raised that way and there is no changing them so they should be castrated. Or killed. Or Both.
Meanwhile I’m just hoping that she goes into a wonderful family and if I wasn’t still a minor then I’d adopt that poor girl in a heartbeat…sure, it would be difficult, very difficult. I’m aware of this. BUT…I don’t want to see this little girl hurt ever again. She deserves better…everyone does.
as for the sides: based on what I’ve learned about the foster care system from the news, and from friends who are in the system, and also what you learn about abusers just by litsening to the stories people confide to me…as much as I would like to be optimistic like my mother, I really o have to agree with my step-father on this one.
Afraid of getting in trouble July 17, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Memories, Feelings, Musings , 1 comment so farJust one of the things that has been bugging me lately…
For as long as I can remember, I’m afraid of getting in trouble. Deathly afraid of getting in trouble. I don’t even think it was because of some sort of severe punishment that I was fearing, ANY sort of confrontation turned me into a crying mess.
One example being when I was in kindergarten. My friend and I were pretending we were cats, and I accidently scratched him. Well, he told on me, and when the teacher stated asking about it and such I was crying so hard that I was dissoriented. Literaly. Or in first grade, when I cried over having to get a yellow card (by the way, is the least possible offense) for continueing to cut out a paper star when she said to stop. Or in 3rd grade were I litteraly had a psycological meltdown on the kitchen floor for forgetting my homework (again) just crying and crawling and and curling up and rocking and crying some more. These weren’t “crocodile tears” either, as some had accused, I legitimately felt such an intense mix of guilt/anxiety/whatever to just break down.
Now a days I’m not going to burst into tears or anything, but I certainly have quite a fear of breaking rules. But seriously…something just isn’t registering as normal for having such a dramatic response to such a little thing.
Bad dream (Triggery, by the way) July 14, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentBlackbird, Blackbird, fly away home.
I had another bad dream recently. It seems my theme of murder has been replaced by a theme of stalkers…most of whom try to molest and murder me. This dream was different though. In this dream, I was getting married (actualy the second dream of it’s kind) oh it was lovely, the problem being that I had NO IDEA WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON. Seriously, in this dream everyone just did things and expected me to know about it like some psycic. I had a stalker too, who would sit in the branches of this tree outside our house, record my movements that were humorous, and then saved them…planning on using them for her cellphone or something and sending it to other people. (fun fact, my house has no blinds or curtains or anything, so you can see right into my house, both in the dream AND in real life) Well, I just got so damn frustrated and embarassed and everything else I just went nuts. Picking up a knife from a drawer, threatening to everyone and vowing to myself to slash myself until I die. I had the knife in my hand, I was going to do it, but, like in real life, i just can never make up enough nerve to cut myself…no matter how much I desperately want to.
Damn, do I wish that I could take out all of my pains and frustrations like that, just take out a knife and mutalate my hideous self until I die from the blood loss. But I just can’t. I know how much that would hurt, I have a very low threshold for pain, so even something like a pin prick REALLY stings. Does that make me a coward? I think it does.
How… July 11, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentHow people stand me is a mystery. I’m a stupid, fifthy little liar. Deserving to die and stop wasting the air. Can you think suicidal thoughts without feeling sad?
Disgusted. So disgusted with myself right now. I’m a goddamn sociopath. One who hurts people. One who lies to people. In disguise as your angel.
How people live with me…I’ll never know, I can barely live alongside myself.
The Deer is Here July 11, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a comment……………………………………….
The Deer does not speak
The Deer only litsens
And waits
To be killed
again.
