I got my stitches stitched, I got my fixes fixed,
In my aching head, I got my kisses slit.
Our gossip lips stuttered every word I said, I said.
I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back.
It's true romance is dead, I shot it in the chest then in the head.
And if you wanna go down in history then I'm your prince,
Cause they got me in a bad way, I've never seen a heart I couldn't break.
It was never about the songs, it was competition.
Make the biggest scene, make the biggest...
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We're high-fashion, we're last chances.
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We're high-fashion, we're last chances.
I'm casually obsessed and I've forgiven death,
I am indifferent, yet (I am a total wreck)
I'm every cliche, but I simply do it best.
And if you wanna go down in history then I'm your prince,
Cause they got me in a bad way, I've never seen a heart I couldn't break.
It was never about the songs, it was competition.
Make the biggest scene, make the biggest...
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We're high-fashion, we're last chances.
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We're high-fashion, we're last chances.
(Go!)
I went to sleep a poet, and I woke up a fraud.
To calm your nerves I'm feeling for my clothes in the dark.
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We're high-fashion, we're last chances.
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We're high-fashion, we're last chances.
Which came first, the music or the misery?
We're high-fashion, we're last chances.
Lately I've been thinking about seventh grade and how much I felt I a part of something that made me feel right.
Love,
Caitlyn
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
What am I supposed to do?
EDIT: I ended up calling his parents, but it turned out he was exaggerating about the whole thing to anyone that would listen and he was actually suicidal back in the spring.
I believe that now would be one of those times where I use my blog for what I said it was going to be for in the first place. I won't reveal names in this blog post in order to keep a little privacy for those involved.
I'm going to start with a text conversation from last night as a prelude to what this is going to be about.
Him: Heh. You're insane. As for my subconscious targeting of girls: I've had two serious relationships in high school, the one right now and one from October to November, and she dumped me for another guy. So your theory sucks. As for me being God's gift to earth, we both know that's not true. I act like a pompous asshole because without the facade I'm powerless. People don't know this, and that's how I like it. Drop out is you want, I might be dead before then.
Me: Dead. I know you could care less about me but don't scare me -name here-. And you wouldn't be powerless.
Him: You think I'm trying to scare you... You know so little about me. I would be [powerless], this is non-negotiable.
Me: I don't think you're trying to scare me. Why would you be dead?
Him: Because depending on how low I sink, I might just speed up the process of decomposition about eighty years.
Me: Why though.
Him: You promise never to tell a soul?
Me: You know I won't tell.
Him: Right. Because I have no will to live. I used to have a strong grounding in the world, of right and wrong, about love. Then my parents split, and everything fell apart. I don't know what love really is, and I don't see myself having a future. I feel that I'm just going to end up worthless.
Me: Don't you ever say that. You matter to people. Aren't you your mother's only child? If you can't live for yourself then live for the people that love you, regardless of your thoughts on love. I don't know how you are about religion right now but God is always there and he has a plan for you and it isn't death so young.
Him: They'll get by. And no offense but I've had religion thrown at me so much over the last few days it's becoming rather boring. You're not gonna talk me out of this, sorry.
Me: -name here- you are worth something. You've been given an intelligence that was meant for something other than plotting your own demise.
Him: An intelligence squandered by a complete lack of desire to utilize it.
Me: Just give things time. It may take years but they get better.
Me: Remember wanting to be a brain surgeon with your own album? You wanted something.
Him: And now I don't care.
Me: Somewhere you do. It takes time. Don't die.
Him: What happens will happen.
Me: Try and open up, let life in. Good things happen.
Him: Mmhm, whatever you say.
Me: Give it a shot. You have nothing left to lose.
Him: Yep.
Me: Try? For your girlfriend?
Him: And this is what saved you, eh?
Me: I was feeling this way too before church. Before opening my life up.
Him: And the church saves another.
Me: Maybe it did. Maybe it didn't. Don't give up just yet, if for nothing but your future wife and children that were supposed to be with you. I'm here if you'd like to talk, no matter what.
Him: I'll keep that in mind.
Summary: this person I care about, that I love, is thinking about suicide. What would you do if someone that had a part of you and you had a part of them was considering taking their own life?
I'm trying everything I can to stop him from doing this, or at least rethink what he wants to do. I've, as you see, thrown religion at him, the possibility of a better future, and today I asked about a girl he's said he loves that lives awhile away, apparently. While they love each other, they admit that they can't handle a long distance relationship and so they've limited themselves to the summers to be together and later on when they're old enough to move out. Since he hasn't had the chance to actually be with her, I brought that up as another reason; he's already talked to her about it, and it really didn't improve the outcome.
I have no idea what to do. Since I know he doesn't care about what I feel on the situation, it would be null and void to try using my feelings on him dying. I care about him very much, to the point that I was on my knees last night, crying without end and praying for fifteen minutes. I can't function normally, and I'm worried out of my mind. I'm scared to death that he's going to go through with it, because I know that he's capable of great things in this life, and he's willing to throw all that away because of something that's totally possible to get over; I know it takes time to get over things, and that's what I've been trying to tell him over and over, but I'm starting to get terrified of not being able to get through to him at all whatsoever.
I told my mother that I had a friend thinking about suicide (didn't tell her who it was, either) and she suggested calling a suicide hotline or maybe reporting it or even telling his parents. I don't know how bad the situation is because he won't open himself up to talk about it in complete honesty. That's why it seems like I know so little about him, because he never opens up.
I care too much for my own good maybe, but that doesn't mean I can't try.
Love,
Caitlyn
I believe that now would be one of those times where I use my blog for what I said it was going to be for in the first place. I won't reveal names in this blog post in order to keep a little privacy for those involved.
I'm going to start with a text conversation from last night as a prelude to what this is going to be about.
Him: Heh. You're insane. As for my subconscious targeting of girls: I've had two serious relationships in high school, the one right now and one from October to November, and she dumped me for another guy. So your theory sucks. As for me being God's gift to earth, we both know that's not true. I act like a pompous asshole because without the facade I'm powerless. People don't know this, and that's how I like it. Drop out is you want, I might be dead before then.
Me: Dead. I know you could care less about me but don't scare me -name here-. And you wouldn't be powerless.
Him: You think I'm trying to scare you... You know so little about me. I would be [powerless], this is non-negotiable.
Me: I don't think you're trying to scare me. Why would you be dead?
Him: Because depending on how low I sink, I might just speed up the process of decomposition about eighty years.
Me: Why though.
Him: You promise never to tell a soul?
Me: You know I won't tell.
Him: Right. Because I have no will to live. I used to have a strong grounding in the world, of right and wrong, about love. Then my parents split, and everything fell apart. I don't know what love really is, and I don't see myself having a future. I feel that I'm just going to end up worthless.
Me: Don't you ever say that. You matter to people. Aren't you your mother's only child? If you can't live for yourself then live for the people that love you, regardless of your thoughts on love. I don't know how you are about religion right now but God is always there and he has a plan for you and it isn't death so young.
Him: They'll get by. And no offense but I've had religion thrown at me so much over the last few days it's becoming rather boring. You're not gonna talk me out of this, sorry.
Me: -name here- you are worth something. You've been given an intelligence that was meant for something other than plotting your own demise.
Him: An intelligence squandered by a complete lack of desire to utilize it.
Me: Just give things time. It may take years but they get better.
Me: Remember wanting to be a brain surgeon with your own album? You wanted something.
Him: And now I don't care.
Me: Somewhere you do. It takes time. Don't die.
Him: What happens will happen.
Me: Try and open up, let life in. Good things happen.
Him: Mmhm, whatever you say.
Me: Give it a shot. You have nothing left to lose.
Him: Yep.
Me: Try? For your girlfriend?
Him: And this is what saved you, eh?
Me: I was feeling this way too before church. Before opening my life up.
Him: And the church saves another.
Me: Maybe it did. Maybe it didn't. Don't give up just yet, if for nothing but your future wife and children that were supposed to be with you. I'm here if you'd like to talk, no matter what.
Him: I'll keep that in mind.
Summary: this person I care about, that I love, is thinking about suicide. What would you do if someone that had a part of you and you had a part of them was considering taking their own life?
I'm trying everything I can to stop him from doing this, or at least rethink what he wants to do. I've, as you see, thrown religion at him, the possibility of a better future, and today I asked about a girl he's said he loves that lives awhile away, apparently. While they love each other, they admit that they can't handle a long distance relationship and so they've limited themselves to the summers to be together and later on when they're old enough to move out. Since he hasn't had the chance to actually be with her, I brought that up as another reason; he's already talked to her about it, and it really didn't improve the outcome.
I have no idea what to do. Since I know he doesn't care about what I feel on the situation, it would be null and void to try using my feelings on him dying. I care about him very much, to the point that I was on my knees last night, crying without end and praying for fifteen minutes. I can't function normally, and I'm worried out of my mind. I'm scared to death that he's going to go through with it, because I know that he's capable of great things in this life, and he's willing to throw all that away because of something that's totally possible to get over; I know it takes time to get over things, and that's what I've been trying to tell him over and over, but I'm starting to get terrified of not being able to get through to him at all whatsoever.
I told my mother that I had a friend thinking about suicide (didn't tell her who it was, either) and she suggested calling a suicide hotline or maybe reporting it or even telling his parents. I don't know how bad the situation is because he won't open himself up to talk about it in complete honesty. That's why it seems like I know so little about him, because he never opens up.
I care too much for my own good maybe, but that doesn't mean I can't try.
Love,
Caitlyn
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Night I Changed.
On May 14, 2010, I purchased my silver ring after the SRT event and became a virgin again while promising to save myself for my future husband. But there's more to the story.
There, we learned very, very much about what happens when you do give yourself up premaritally; this was restated this morning at church in our Best Sex Ever series. Because sex is both a spiritual and physical thing, for every person you have sex with and then don't end up with as a husband or a wife they take a piece of you with them, and you have a piece of them, too. Forever. And you can never get it back.
Graham was amazing sexually, and it started the monster inside of me (or the devil) that craved more and more and more sex, and I couldn't turn off these thoughts, that temptation. Hence sleeping with my ex boyfriend and my one-time deal with Mitchell in January. But when I slept with Jimmy, he just took a bigger part of me than he had already had from us being together; Mitchell has one too, but a difference between the two of them is that Mitchell, to a degree, cares about me, and Jimmy has made it overly obvious that he couldn't care what happened to me and if I was on fire he wouldn't piss to put me out (like my Fall Out Boy lyric reference?). I have a piece of both them, and I care about them, too. Feeling hurts, but I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all.
Anyway, this weekend at church has opened my eyes to why I'm feeling the way I do about the people that have hurt me the most in my life; even though I did this all to myself and most likely deserve both of them tearing me apart, I want them to care and I want them to at least be civil and, although is this a huge stretch, understanding. Love sucks, doesn't it?
Sex ruined my life; it really did. It wasn't that I gave my virginity away to the wrong person, but it was given away at the wrong time in my life with Graham. We should have waited until we were married for most of the sexual things, and now we get that second chance in the eyes of God. I feel like if I hadn't slept with Jimmy, I'd still be having sex with Graham and risking getting caught by our parents to never see each other until we were adults. I wouldn't be religious in the slightest, and I'd be a complete wreck. If it wasn't for Jimmy reappearing in my life, in such a dramatic way, I'd be like any other teenager. But I don't want to be that way. So in a way, I thank Jimmy for letting me go so far with him, which started the domino effect that led to me becoming a virgin again and a real Christian.
Regardless of this second chance with God, there will be urges and temptation to stray away from the Lord's intended path for me; I'm still the same girl that loves passionate make-out sessions that have bodies pushed up so close together it's hard to breathe, but I think I have the willpower now to resist all of this until I can be married. The purity ring is a constant reminder not only of what I've been through and what I've put Graham through, but of what I can never do again and the promises I've made.
Please learn from what I've said so far about sex; this blog has to be good for something and I want you all to know what sex has done. There is no such thing as casual sex, there cannot be anything good that comes from more than one sexual partner in your premarital life. Please, don't make these same mistakes. Forget all the religious stuff if you don't believe, but think about all the other girls and boys that regret having sex so early. I got lucky in that I didn't pick up an STD or an unplanned pregnancy (I won't even say unwanted), but another girl or boy might not be. So please, don't become the majority of teenagers. For those of you that might not be virgins anymore, please drop sex and wait. It may feel stupid or hopeless to wait, but the hardship is worth it, I promise.
Love,
Caitlyn
There, we learned very, very much about what happens when you do give yourself up premaritally; this was restated this morning at church in our Best Sex Ever series. Because sex is both a spiritual and physical thing, for every person you have sex with and then don't end up with as a husband or a wife they take a piece of you with them, and you have a piece of them, too. Forever. And you can never get it back.
Graham was amazing sexually, and it started the monster inside of me (or the devil) that craved more and more and more sex, and I couldn't turn off these thoughts, that temptation. Hence sleeping with my ex boyfriend and my one-time deal with Mitchell in January. But when I slept with Jimmy, he just took a bigger part of me than he had already had from us being together; Mitchell has one too, but a difference between the two of them is that Mitchell, to a degree, cares about me, and Jimmy has made it overly obvious that he couldn't care what happened to me and if I was on fire he wouldn't piss to put me out (like my Fall Out Boy lyric reference?). I have a piece of both them, and I care about them, too. Feeling hurts, but I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all.
Anyway, this weekend at church has opened my eyes to why I'm feeling the way I do about the people that have hurt me the most in my life; even though I did this all to myself and most likely deserve both of them tearing me apart, I want them to care and I want them to at least be civil and, although is this a huge stretch, understanding. Love sucks, doesn't it?
Sex ruined my life; it really did. It wasn't that I gave my virginity away to the wrong person, but it was given away at the wrong time in my life with Graham. We should have waited until we were married for most of the sexual things, and now we get that second chance in the eyes of God. I feel like if I hadn't slept with Jimmy, I'd still be having sex with Graham and risking getting caught by our parents to never see each other until we were adults. I wouldn't be religious in the slightest, and I'd be a complete wreck. If it wasn't for Jimmy reappearing in my life, in such a dramatic way, I'd be like any other teenager. But I don't want to be that way. So in a way, I thank Jimmy for letting me go so far with him, which started the domino effect that led to me becoming a virgin again and a real Christian.
Regardless of this second chance with God, there will be urges and temptation to stray away from the Lord's intended path for me; I'm still the same girl that loves passionate make-out sessions that have bodies pushed up so close together it's hard to breathe, but I think I have the willpower now to resist all of this until I can be married. The purity ring is a constant reminder not only of what I've been through and what I've put Graham through, but of what I can never do again and the promises I've made.
Please learn from what I've said so far about sex; this blog has to be good for something and I want you all to know what sex has done. There is no such thing as casual sex, there cannot be anything good that comes from more than one sexual partner in your premarital life. Please, don't make these same mistakes. Forget all the religious stuff if you don't believe, but think about all the other girls and boys that regret having sex so early. I got lucky in that I didn't pick up an STD or an unplanned pregnancy (I won't even say unwanted), but another girl or boy might not be. So please, don't become the majority of teenagers. For those of you that might not be virgins anymore, please drop sex and wait. It may feel stupid or hopeless to wait, but the hardship is worth it, I promise.
Love,
Caitlyn
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The IB Program
So in my most recent post, I talked about how Jimmy was driving me absolutely crazy by simply existing and how much easier life was when I didn't have to worry about him.
Well, I have a [drastic] solution: drop out of IB.
I started thinking about IB when I found out in seventh grade that both Jimmy and my best friend of the time Maryse were going into the program and I was practically forced into deciding to go. Then that summer came along and well, we all know about that don't we? But after, I started going to the meetings and such and had some time to think and I realized that at this particular moment in my life, IB was a good thing. I'd be saved from the general stupidity that I would face at Mitchell High, and all would be well.
I didn't think about the program much until the day I went for my schedule and I remembered what I'd be facing if I went here (do I really need to tell ya'll?). But I did, got my locker and ran around school to find my classes and was, thankfully, very close to all of them. Seeing Jimmy didn't really bother me much at all until all of the fights I was having with Chelsi, and Graham and I were having our issues, but even before October and early November, Jimmy would start up that adrenaline rush inside of me, and I started getting scared of any type of contact between the two of us (which was, obviously, forgotten). It was awful to have this internal radar of where he was at all times, like a biological thing I couldn't turn off; if I turned at my locker to face the double doors he'd be at his locker, or if I turned to go find my friends in the morning he'd just be getting to school and I'd see him. The worst was when I'd be going to lunch and I'd be texting and just be doing automatic things and I'd be done texting and look up and BAM he'd be at his locker. It got old and exhausting very quickly.
Fast-forward through what happened last semester and at the beginning of this semester, and now the same things happen, but now he's with his girlfriend. Who, in case I haven't mentioned this earlier, is half his height (just imagine my surprise; what would you do if you saw your ex with a girl that was the complete opposite of you?). So yes, the past month has been especially hard. Not to mention when I start getting comfortable, to an extent, he texts me and tells me to take off his full name off of my blog.
I have something to say about that. Everyone that knows me, to an extent, knows I slept with "that tall ginger kid in black, over there?" and therefore they can figure out his name at some point; I give them his name anyway. My blog cannot be found via a search engine, and thus you readers got here by receiving the link from another person. So then, what is the huge issue with having his whole name on here? Mitchell begged me, pleaded with me, and was nice to me when he asked for his full name to be taken off, and even though he had dropped me as well (I'll explain later) at least he was nice about it. He isn't like Jimmy, a pompous asshole that believes he's God's gift to the world most of the time and has hurt me too many times. Hence, it's going to take a plethura more than a text message or two for him to get me to take his full name off.
Back to the issue of IB or not. Jimmy isn't the only reason I feel like I want to drop out; besides, the issue goes deeper. I don't just feel like I want to drop out of IB. I want to drop out of high school. People this age are just...immature, to say the least, and I am sick and tired of the select few ruining it for the majority. I'd get my GED, apply for sonography school, and be out by the time I'm eighteen. Then I could get over all the bullshit of young life and start my adult experiences. Granted, I know quite a few of the idiots in IB will be leaving after the summer is over, and I can't drop out of high school until I'm sixteen, so there will be some time to mull this all over. Again, teenagers do go through phases of what they want to do with their lives, so maybe this is just one of mine. I don't know, to be honest. I guess I'm just going to have to wait in order to find out.
On another note, I will be blogging soon about Silver Ring Thing and such, not to mention the things with Mitchell that happened last month.
OH. And for those of you that have read my Sherron blog post, please please please post your comments. I wanna know what ya'll think about what I said.
Love,
Caitlyn
Well, I have a [drastic] solution: drop out of IB.
I started thinking about IB when I found out in seventh grade that both Jimmy and my best friend of the time Maryse were going into the program and I was practically forced into deciding to go. Then that summer came along and well, we all know about that don't we? But after, I started going to the meetings and such and had some time to think and I realized that at this particular moment in my life, IB was a good thing. I'd be saved from the general stupidity that I would face at Mitchell High, and all would be well.
I didn't think about the program much until the day I went for my schedule and I remembered what I'd be facing if I went here (do I really need to tell ya'll?). But I did, got my locker and ran around school to find my classes and was, thankfully, very close to all of them. Seeing Jimmy didn't really bother me much at all until all of the fights I was having with Chelsi, and Graham and I were having our issues, but even before October and early November, Jimmy would start up that adrenaline rush inside of me, and I started getting scared of any type of contact between the two of us (which was, obviously, forgotten). It was awful to have this internal radar of where he was at all times, like a biological thing I couldn't turn off; if I turned at my locker to face the double doors he'd be at his locker, or if I turned to go find my friends in the morning he'd just be getting to school and I'd see him. The worst was when I'd be going to lunch and I'd be texting and just be doing automatic things and I'd be done texting and look up and BAM he'd be at his locker. It got old and exhausting very quickly.
Fast-forward through what happened last semester and at the beginning of this semester, and now the same things happen, but now he's with his girlfriend. Who, in case I haven't mentioned this earlier, is half his height (just imagine my surprise; what would you do if you saw your ex with a girl that was the complete opposite of you?). So yes, the past month has been especially hard. Not to mention when I start getting comfortable, to an extent, he texts me and tells me to take off his full name off of my blog.
I have something to say about that. Everyone that knows me, to an extent, knows I slept with "that tall ginger kid in black, over there?" and therefore they can figure out his name at some point; I give them his name anyway. My blog cannot be found via a search engine, and thus you readers got here by receiving the link from another person. So then, what is the huge issue with having his whole name on here? Mitchell begged me, pleaded with me, and was nice to me when he asked for his full name to be taken off, and even though he had dropped me as well (I'll explain later) at least he was nice about it. He isn't like Jimmy, a pompous asshole that believes he's God's gift to the world most of the time and has hurt me too many times. Hence, it's going to take a plethura more than a text message or two for him to get me to take his full name off.
Back to the issue of IB or not. Jimmy isn't the only reason I feel like I want to drop out; besides, the issue goes deeper. I don't just feel like I want to drop out of IB. I want to drop out of high school. People this age are just...immature, to say the least, and I am sick and tired of the select few ruining it for the majority. I'd get my GED, apply for sonography school, and be out by the time I'm eighteen. Then I could get over all the bullshit of young life and start my adult experiences. Granted, I know quite a few of the idiots in IB will be leaving after the summer is over, and I can't drop out of high school until I'm sixteen, so there will be some time to mull this all over. Again, teenagers do go through phases of what they want to do with their lives, so maybe this is just one of mine. I don't know, to be honest. I guess I'm just going to have to wait in order to find out.
On another note, I will be blogging soon about Silver Ring Thing and such, not to mention the things with Mitchell that happened last month.
OH. And for those of you that have read my Sherron blog post, please please please post your comments. I wanna know what ya'll think about what I said.
Love,
Caitlyn
Monday, May 10, 2010
Observation on Crack
I have a theory.
I've seen his previous girlfriends and past partner interests and not to be...cruel but none of them are that pretty. To a girl, looks are everything and they like to feel good-looking. If a guy gives them the time of day and acts as though he loves her, she'll give him anything and everything he asks.
In seventh grade when we went out, I hated the way I looked, and I wanted to change. Then he came along, made me feel like I was his everything (to a certain degree), and I didn't want him to leave. Six months later, he went to high school, for "better" things (I'd bet now he was thinking he'd have a better chance at getting laid), and left me behind as a mess. I cried on the phone for a very long time, and then afterwards I cried even more (now I know it wasn't worth the tears).
If I'm right, Jimmy (at least on a subconscious level) takes girls that believe they're crap (or other people make them feel this way), treats them like gold to get what he wants, and then when he's through or wants something better, he'll drop them to the dirt, trash-layered floor. Think that's pretty good?
I understand that my memory of stupid, meaningless details is insane (while things that actually matter get wiped out in a matter of seconds), and there's a lot of very peculiar things that get said here, so with that out in the open I'd like to go ahead and talk about details that I notice without even trying.
He holds her the same. And there's this neck thing that he does; it's just his hand on the back of your neck, usually over hair, with fingers seemingly trying to tickle you but failing. What sucks, on every single level (and what I want so badly to get away from), is that it hurts.
It shouldn't; I know that it shouldn't hurt. After all, I used him didn't I ("Him" parts 1 and 2)? But seeing him every day, passing by him in the halls and my annoying radar for him kicking into gear whenever I need to be doing something else, is driving me insane. There's this stabbing feeling in my chest, triggering my "fight or flight" response, that makes me want to cry and run as far away as I possibly can. I know this is immature, I know this is melodramatic, and I know this makes me sound crazy, but maybe I am. Maybe I am crazy.There is more to this, but for a different post, a different day.
I remember feeling so much better in eighth grade, being with Graham and not having to even think about Jimmy or the past or anything like that. I felt healed from that breakup, from all the emotional things I had to go through. I was able to focus on my work, my friends, my family, and Graham, but now it's like I do everything in my power just to avoid him, and if being around him is inevitable, then I keep my head held high and breathe. But that's not working anymore and I have no idea what to do.
What may be causing this is something that is impossible to get rid of: feelings. No I am not emotionally attached, no I am not in love with him, but I do love him, in the purest sense of the word. I care about him, what happens to him, and logic screams at me to not do any of this and just turn that piece of me off, but I'm not that indifferent. I can't turn my emotions off. Yes, I can turn them down like volume, but there isn't an on/off switch. So, until he graduates or drops out, or one of us moves, or (God forbid) one of us dies, I am stuck in the epitome of hell.
Love,
Caitlyn
I've seen his previous girlfriends and past partner interests and not to be...cruel but none of them are that pretty. To a girl, looks are everything and they like to feel good-looking. If a guy gives them the time of day and acts as though he loves her, she'll give him anything and everything he asks.
In seventh grade when we went out, I hated the way I looked, and I wanted to change. Then he came along, made me feel like I was his everything (to a certain degree), and I didn't want him to leave. Six months later, he went to high school, for "better" things (I'd bet now he was thinking he'd have a better chance at getting laid), and left me behind as a mess. I cried on the phone for a very long time, and then afterwards I cried even more (now I know it wasn't worth the tears).
If I'm right, Jimmy (at least on a subconscious level) takes girls that believe they're crap (or other people make them feel this way), treats them like gold to get what he wants, and then when he's through or wants something better, he'll drop them to the dirt, trash-layered floor. Think that's pretty good?
I understand that my memory of stupid, meaningless details is insane (while things that actually matter get wiped out in a matter of seconds), and there's a lot of very peculiar things that get said here, so with that out in the open I'd like to go ahead and talk about details that I notice without even trying.
He holds her the same. And there's this neck thing that he does; it's just his hand on the back of your neck, usually over hair, with fingers seemingly trying to tickle you but failing. What sucks, on every single level (and what I want so badly to get away from), is that it hurts.
It shouldn't; I know that it shouldn't hurt. After all, I used him didn't I ("Him" parts 1 and 2)? But seeing him every day, passing by him in the halls and my annoying radar for him kicking into gear whenever I need to be doing something else, is driving me insane. There's this stabbing feeling in my chest, triggering my "fight or flight" response, that makes me want to cry and run as far away as I possibly can. I know this is immature, I know this is melodramatic, and I know this makes me sound crazy, but maybe I am. Maybe I am crazy.There is more to this, but for a different post, a different day.
I remember feeling so much better in eighth grade, being with Graham and not having to even think about Jimmy or the past or anything like that. I felt healed from that breakup, from all the emotional things I had to go through. I was able to focus on my work, my friends, my family, and Graham, but now it's like I do everything in my power just to avoid him, and if being around him is inevitable, then I keep my head held high and breathe. But that's not working anymore and I have no idea what to do.
What may be causing this is something that is impossible to get rid of: feelings. No I am not emotionally attached, no I am not in love with him, but I do love him, in the purest sense of the word. I care about him, what happens to him, and logic screams at me to not do any of this and just turn that piece of me off, but I'm not that indifferent. I can't turn my emotions off. Yes, I can turn them down like volume, but there isn't an on/off switch. So, until he graduates or drops out, or one of us moves, or (God forbid) one of us dies, I am stuck in the epitome of hell.
Love,
Caitlyn
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Our Very Own "Shay-la"
When I met Sherron, it was the first day of sixth grade at Seven Springs Middle School. We were the last to leave Mrs. Jacobs' first period class and we didn't know where our second period was, so we decided to go together. After that, we became best friends. The first thing we learned about each other was that I was twenty-one days older than she was.
As always, minor drama occurred on a daily basis in our lives, but nothing too serious; after all, we were only eleven. After I had broken up with my first boyfriend Davis, she and I worked together on a science project at my house that ended in a paint fight. My birthday that summer was spent in Wisconsin, but Sherron and I were together more times than we could count.
Seventh grade came along, and the drama got way worse. She was trying really, really hard to fit in with the "popular" gifted crowd and that apparently didn't involve being with me. I began cutting that year, and I confided everything in her; I don't know if she kept those secrets, but soon enough she started cutting too. An eating disorder overtook her soon, and I recall times staying in the bathroom with her, being late to class, because she needed someone with her to throw up. The "popular friends" that she had, which she told about her current condition, all turned their backs on her and reported her to guidance, leaving her to the dust. Meanwhile, we weren't talking at all and I hadn't told anyone about her. So after everyone else deserted her in seventh grade that were girls except for me, she apologized for ignoring me and treating me badly, but then she moved over to guys. It seemed like there was a new guy every week, every day, and she "liked" every one of them, even "loved." Summer came, as did my birthday, and she came and had a sleepover; it was our last at my house.
Eighth grade was a mess. We barely talked, and even though she pushed aside all her other girl friends for guys, she expected the rest of us that were ignored to be there for her. While I didn't like what she was doing, and I thought she was an awful friend to me, I was there when she wanted me to be. The instance, however, when I realized that boys and being with a boy at all times was when my friend Sam had nearly been trampled by a horse the previous weekend; she tried to tell Sherron, who was with her interest of the moment Chris Poole, but Sherron ignored the ordeal without comment. Later on in the year, when the four of us (Chelsi, Sherron, Sam, and I) knew that we all were going into IB together, Sherron claimed she was sorry for this past year and hoped we all would be good together at Gulf High. And we were, for a time.
During the summer no one talked much except Chelsi and I, mostly because we were having issues with Sam, but other than that we were alright. The school year started, and Sherron was already back on her path to men. She had at least three crushes, and in the first semester she had had at least five boyfriends, while liking numerous others. She'd claim for every breakup that her parents made her do it and said that she loved them. This has not changed.
Third quarter, second semester, came around and with it came her "cutting" and "eating disorder." Her parents found her, apparently, and then after allegedly going to the hospital, Sherron was admitted to a rehab facility for about two months. The truth came out. Her boyfriend of the time Charlie, who was my favorite because they had known each other for the longest time in diabetes camp, "cheated" on her and all of our mutual friends, especially Chelsi, revealed their true thoughts.
The night she came home, I told Chelsi but she didn't respond to any messages. There was supposed to be a get-together at Sherron's house that Saturday, and the Friday night before I was home alone when Chelsi texted me. After talking for awhile, I brought up what was going to happen the next day and that's when she said "Can I tell you something and know you won't tell anyone else?" I said okay, and then she replied with "I really don't like Sherron. I'm not happy she's back." For the next three hours, we talked about what we really thought and came up with the following.
Sherron loves attention and doesn't get any at home; she over-exaggerates what actually happens in order to get sympathy from others, and she has even lied about very serious instances. For example, for three years she has claimed she gets beaten around by her parents with bad bruises and wants to get out, but when confronted with an actual escape (Chelsi's dad is a cop), she says "Oh it's not that bad, I'll be fine." Cutting was never real; who the f*** cuts with a steak knife, for one, and then the marks aren't deep at all and barely bleeding or breaking skin? The "eating disorder" that she said she had wasn't one at all; even though I used to go into the bathroom with her in seventh grade when she threw up, that was three years ago, and the therapist she saw in rehab said that she had anorexia, not bulimea. No way would a doctor misdiagnose a patient, and thus Sherron lied again. After rehab, she and Charlie broke up, and immediately afterwards, she was after Kyle McDowell again (who she broke up with for Charlie) but then she liked a guy hardly knew (which hurt Kyle again) and moved over to Jimmy Carson and then to a guy named Costa and then Hunter Swartzel, and now we are at Charles Weiss. Every single one of these guys she says she loved, not to mention the many in the three years of middle school, and regardless of the time span of the relationship (sometimes a day, or a couple weeks, or maybe a month or so) she would cry when they left after saying they were her "forever love" but then the next day she would be on the next guy and pretend her most recent relationship never existed.
During spring break, I confronted Sherron about the guy obsession and she got defensive right off the bat. I stopped talking to her, stopped trying to make amends, stopped listening to her at all. I ignored her at school, and then she deleted me off of Facebook. Right now, thinking about all of this, I'm removing her as a phone contact (didn't before because I don't think about her much). Chelsi, although her thoughts were the catalyst to this whole situation, took a few weeks to pull herself away from the mess, and then our whole French class talked to us about it and it ended up with knowing that absolutely no one liked her at all. No one liked how she manipulated so many boys (which is a result of her daddy issues), or how she would create stories in order to get attention of others.
Currently, there is supposedly a rumor about her going around that says she is no longer a virgin. I may have not started this rumor, or spread it, but honestly it isn't a bad rumor; it isn't nearly as bad as the one that Sherron is spreading about me that says that not only do I have sex with every guy I like but I also have had sexual intercourse with at least four other people. To clear all this up, I will admit that I have had sex with two people: my fiance Graham, and my ex Jimmy. I almost did it with Mitchell, but that's it. I do not put out myself to guys I barely know, and on the "every guy I like" part, I've been with Graham for nearly two years now and he was my first [sexual experience]. I am not a whore, I am not a slut, I am in no way "easy." I am like all other normal girls, one that values a solid relationship and romance instead of physical pleasure. Sherron and I didn't have a messy fall-out, so why in the world would she think it's okay to spread rumors about not only me but Chelsi? All we did was get tired of her shenanigans; we didn't create a rumor and spread it like fire in dead wood. Honestly, I don't care what people think about me, because all that matters is what I think of myself and what my closest friends and family think, but it is not acceptable, what she's doing.
Slowly but surely Chelsi and I, along with Bailey, are unofficially working on exposing the spotlight-hungry girl she really is to others that believe she is their friend. Questions we ask: "Does she tell you that she's only told you something but then you find out that everyone else knows?" "Does she tell you you're her 'bestie?'" "Has she been jealous of you?" "Has she tried to copy you?" "When you have a problem, does she really listen to you when you talk or is she both multitasking and talking about herself and her apparent problems?"
She isn't worth the trouble anymore; the drama that she alone causes is enough for all four years of high school. For saying I'm done with her, that may make me a bad friend to her, but I've put up with her utter and complete crap for about four years and I am tired of it. I've had enough of her fake problems when I'm having real ones. A friend is someone that, yes, trusts in you her problems but also will listen and help you with yours. And she wasn't like that with me, Chelsi, Sam, Bailey, or hardly anyone I've talked to.
Sherron Lynn is a disease, and I do feel sorry for her, but only because she feels the need to create fake attention for herself. She needs therapy and rehab, but not for eating disorders. All paying attention to her and feeling sympathy for her will do is encourage her to make the same destructive decisions over and over and over again until she crashes and cannot get better.
Love,
Caitlyn
As always, minor drama occurred on a daily basis in our lives, but nothing too serious; after all, we were only eleven. After I had broken up with my first boyfriend Davis, she and I worked together on a science project at my house that ended in a paint fight. My birthday that summer was spent in Wisconsin, but Sherron and I were together more times than we could count.
Seventh grade came along, and the drama got way worse. She was trying really, really hard to fit in with the "popular" gifted crowd and that apparently didn't involve being with me. I began cutting that year, and I confided everything in her; I don't know if she kept those secrets, but soon enough she started cutting too. An eating disorder overtook her soon, and I recall times staying in the bathroom with her, being late to class, because she needed someone with her to throw up. The "popular friends" that she had, which she told about her current condition, all turned their backs on her and reported her to guidance, leaving her to the dust. Meanwhile, we weren't talking at all and I hadn't told anyone about her. So after everyone else deserted her in seventh grade that were girls except for me, she apologized for ignoring me and treating me badly, but then she moved over to guys. It seemed like there was a new guy every week, every day, and she "liked" every one of them, even "loved." Summer came, as did my birthday, and she came and had a sleepover; it was our last at my house.
Eighth grade was a mess. We barely talked, and even though she pushed aside all her other girl friends for guys, she expected the rest of us that were ignored to be there for her. While I didn't like what she was doing, and I thought she was an awful friend to me, I was there when she wanted me to be. The instance, however, when I realized that boys and being with a boy at all times was when my friend Sam had nearly been trampled by a horse the previous weekend; she tried to tell Sherron, who was with her interest of the moment Chris Poole, but Sherron ignored the ordeal without comment. Later on in the year, when the four of us (Chelsi, Sherron, Sam, and I) knew that we all were going into IB together, Sherron claimed she was sorry for this past year and hoped we all would be good together at Gulf High. And we were, for a time.
During the summer no one talked much except Chelsi and I, mostly because we were having issues with Sam, but other than that we were alright. The school year started, and Sherron was already back on her path to men. She had at least three crushes, and in the first semester she had had at least five boyfriends, while liking numerous others. She'd claim for every breakup that her parents made her do it and said that she loved them. This has not changed.
Third quarter, second semester, came around and with it came her "cutting" and "eating disorder." Her parents found her, apparently, and then after allegedly going to the hospital, Sherron was admitted to a rehab facility for about two months. The truth came out. Her boyfriend of the time Charlie, who was my favorite because they had known each other for the longest time in diabetes camp, "cheated" on her and all of our mutual friends, especially Chelsi, revealed their true thoughts.
The night she came home, I told Chelsi but she didn't respond to any messages. There was supposed to be a get-together at Sherron's house that Saturday, and the Friday night before I was home alone when Chelsi texted me. After talking for awhile, I brought up what was going to happen the next day and that's when she said "Can I tell you something and know you won't tell anyone else?" I said okay, and then she replied with "I really don't like Sherron. I'm not happy she's back." For the next three hours, we talked about what we really thought and came up with the following.
Sherron loves attention and doesn't get any at home; she over-exaggerates what actually happens in order to get sympathy from others, and she has even lied about very serious instances. For example, for three years she has claimed she gets beaten around by her parents with bad bruises and wants to get out, but when confronted with an actual escape (Chelsi's dad is a cop), she says "Oh it's not that bad, I'll be fine." Cutting was never real; who the f*** cuts with a steak knife, for one, and then the marks aren't deep at all and barely bleeding or breaking skin? The "eating disorder" that she said she had wasn't one at all; even though I used to go into the bathroom with her in seventh grade when she threw up, that was three years ago, and the therapist she saw in rehab said that she had anorexia, not bulimea. No way would a doctor misdiagnose a patient, and thus Sherron lied again. After rehab, she and Charlie broke up, and immediately afterwards, she was after Kyle McDowell again (who she broke up with for Charlie) but then she liked a guy hardly knew (which hurt Kyle again) and moved over to Jimmy Carson and then to a guy named Costa and then Hunter Swartzel, and now we are at Charles Weiss. Every single one of these guys she says she loved, not to mention the many in the three years of middle school, and regardless of the time span of the relationship (sometimes a day, or a couple weeks, or maybe a month or so) she would cry when they left after saying they were her "forever love" but then the next day she would be on the next guy and pretend her most recent relationship never existed.
During spring break, I confronted Sherron about the guy obsession and she got defensive right off the bat. I stopped talking to her, stopped trying to make amends, stopped listening to her at all. I ignored her at school, and then she deleted me off of Facebook. Right now, thinking about all of this, I'm removing her as a phone contact (didn't before because I don't think about her much). Chelsi, although her thoughts were the catalyst to this whole situation, took a few weeks to pull herself away from the mess, and then our whole French class talked to us about it and it ended up with knowing that absolutely no one liked her at all. No one liked how she manipulated so many boys (which is a result of her daddy issues), or how she would create stories in order to get attention of others.
Currently, there is supposedly a rumor about her going around that says she is no longer a virgin. I may have not started this rumor, or spread it, but honestly it isn't a bad rumor; it isn't nearly as bad as the one that Sherron is spreading about me that says that not only do I have sex with every guy I like but I also have had sexual intercourse with at least four other people. To clear all this up, I will admit that I have had sex with two people: my fiance Graham, and my ex Jimmy. I almost did it with Mitchell, but that's it. I do not put out myself to guys I barely know, and on the "every guy I like" part, I've been with Graham for nearly two years now and he was my first [sexual experience]. I am not a whore, I am not a slut, I am in no way "easy." I am like all other normal girls, one that values a solid relationship and romance instead of physical pleasure. Sherron and I didn't have a messy fall-out, so why in the world would she think it's okay to spread rumors about not only me but Chelsi? All we did was get tired of her shenanigans; we didn't create a rumor and spread it like fire in dead wood. Honestly, I don't care what people think about me, because all that matters is what I think of myself and what my closest friends and family think, but it is not acceptable, what she's doing.
Slowly but surely Chelsi and I, along with Bailey, are unofficially working on exposing the spotlight-hungry girl she really is to others that believe she is their friend. Questions we ask: "Does she tell you that she's only told you something but then you find out that everyone else knows?" "Does she tell you you're her 'bestie?'" "Has she been jealous of you?" "Has she tried to copy you?" "When you have a problem, does she really listen to you when you talk or is she both multitasking and talking about herself and her apparent problems?"
She isn't worth the trouble anymore; the drama that she alone causes is enough for all four years of high school. For saying I'm done with her, that may make me a bad friend to her, but I've put up with her utter and complete crap for about four years and I am tired of it. I've had enough of her fake problems when I'm having real ones. A friend is someone that, yes, trusts in you her problems but also will listen and help you with yours. And she wasn't like that with me, Chelsi, Sam, Bailey, or hardly anyone I've talked to.
Sherron Lynn is a disease, and I do feel sorry for her, but only because she feels the need to create fake attention for herself. She needs therapy and rehab, but not for eating disorders. All paying attention to her and feeling sympathy for her will do is encourage her to make the same destructive decisions over and over and over again until she crashes and cannot get better.
Love,
Caitlyn
Monday, May 3, 2010
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