Tales Told by the Overreactor

You asked me if I'd make it better ;Asked me if we could grow old together.But you don't mean a thing to me,So I'll walk by quite happily.And now I guess that you've moved on as well.Understand me, take me fullyUnderground where I can not be found.Understand me, take me fullyUnderground where I can not be found.- Pickpocket, Kate Nash

Okay. We all have our moments when we're sure we might die because Anthony didn't ask us to the spring fling and went out partying with that slut Ashley instead. But sometimes, when we have a conflict with our neurotransmitters or a mental disorder (term used lightly 'round these quarters), we go way over board. and we often have fights with people who mean the most to us. It isn't just because they don't understand. It's greatly because you don't.

When we hear big news that throws our balance beam sideways . . . It's not the ideal situation and we rarely use the rational throwback.
I'll give you an example:
Who remembers Savannah and Joe? Well, I've become very nice friends with Savannah; yes, the enemy. And Joe and I . . . we aren't on the same page lately. I'll explain him later. Anyhow, I knew it would be the last chance Joe would ever give me. And when I blew it (I swear I don't even know what I did, but I'm sure I didn't mean it), I could barely stand. Seriously. I felt all tingly, because he is my first love and [was] my best friend. I truly doubt I could survive a fortnight without him. He was everything. I ran to my best friend since cradle years, naturally. We shall call her Allison. Well, I have gone to Allison more times than I can remember when I was upset about Joe (given, she was a mutual friend who could get him to talk to me).

I knew Allison was tired of talking about Joe. I knew it annoyed her, and I understood it all rather well. But I thought she would do me a favor if I'm at my road's end (that is almost crying and eating your weight in Rollos').  But she just had a break down too. Of the anger genre, however. She full on snapped like a snow pea. It wasn't pretty.

She  started  with "All I hear lately is Joe this and Joe that." That was rather obnoxious in my little opinion. Because it's not true. And I talk about Joe because he's the only part of my life she can help (not talk through. But help. She can't cure me or make me extroverted). Allison then told me to try to be happy. Like I don't try to get out and get better and accept life or get over him given all the times he's made me cry. I don't try as hard as I should but don't you ever say I'm not trying. . . . Anyone depressed should understand that. Yeah?

Well, while I was, in my opinion at the least, reasonably mad, I did tell her off more than I probably should have. I was completely taken aback. Here was this girl, my best friend for 14 of my 15 years of my life, telling me that one of my very nauseating insecurities is annoying and that she's done helping. I tell her, at first, that I just can't talk to her at the moment. I knew that if I did, I'd snap back rather sassily. I'd have told her off in some rides remarks I'd never imagine meaning. But she can't believe I'm leaving the conversation.

A mistake I somehow overlooked was telling her that I may not talking to her for a while.

I learned later that she didn't fully know the complex mind of someone without serotonin. She didn't realize how bipolar I am and how I say a lot of stuff spur-of-the-momently.

Typically, my know-me-rather-well friends tell me to calm down before talking to them again, or they won't reply, because I just go modeling-bitch on them. Total ballistics. Well, maybe not ballistic. 

Somewhere between a saucy chihuahua and a mother bear.

From last night, I've learned that I need to stop myself before hand. I need to think everything through thoroughly and use introspect even more (I use it most of the time, unless I'm pushing irate).

So, to all you bipolar bears, depressed groundhogs, anxious turtles, back talking parrots, and neurotic owls: Let's all think it through before losing someone we really need.

I wrote this in a rather uncomfortable position (80 pound dog in my lap..)

PLEASE HAVE A GREAT DAY. MMMMWAH.

www.theneurojourno.tumblr.com

Writing a Blog . . . Now That's Okay.

Just something about nothing.
Summoning the courage to get out of be in the morning, now that's hard.
Finding the strength to pour coffee, that's hard.
Eating burnt toast and realizing you actually have to live today, that's hard.
Reading a book, that's easy.
Watching TV, that's a little boring.
Sitting outside and drinking tea, that's fancy.
Wanting to talk and having no one's ear to borrow, that's tricky.
Noticing it is only  half-past noon, that's horrible.
Breathing, that isn't so bad.
Eating ice cream, now that's wonderful with the right people.
Doing homework, that's terrible.
Petting cats, that's nice.
Smiling, that's worth it.
Crying, that hurts.
Being sad, that's all I kow how to do.
Playing the piano, that's pleasant.
Tuning in and out of your own thoughts, that's intense but rather interesting.
Perusing the dictionary, that's brilliant.
Travling to France, that's lovely.
Brushing your teeth, that's sort of long.
Brushing your hair, that's really annoying.
Planning out your near future in your head before you drift asleep at night, spectactular.

Things You Don't Want to Talk to Your Parents About

Don't try to tell me what to do,
Don't try to tell me what to say,
You're better off that way. . . .
This guilt trip that you put me on won't, mess me up I've done no wrong
Any thoughts of you and me have gone away

- Avril Lavigne, Don't Tell Me

This song is  about a boyfriend, but I do believe the lyrics aforementioned fit quite nicely to the average teenager's thoughts against his or her parents.

This is another great song by Kate Nash. It's called Mariella and is all about this little girl, Mariella of course, and how she is very unique and different . . . and her mother cannot stand it!





She marched to her wardrobe and threw away the color,

because wearing black looks mysterious--

but it didn't impress her mother!

She wanted to dress a baby in patterns and flowers,

but Mariella just crossed her arms,

and so she cried for hours. . . .

"Mariella . . . Wear some pink and pearls.

You can have your friends around

and they can stay for tea.

Mariella, won't you just try to fit in?

Please do this for me!"

Most people, and by most I really mean the majority, do no understand what anxiety or depression or worthlessness feels like. Therefore, I would like to off me being your adoptive parental unit. Contact me for help any time! (Contact info in the sidebar => )

So here are a few things you never want to talk to your parents about, and a few answers to those questions.

I just found this on Tumblr. This is how my legs looked almost
nightly though, I'm better. Scarred, but no more bleeding for me!

Cutting 411 (More like 911! . . . Ba dum tsss)

Question #1: Why should I stop cutting if it helps? It's  not too deep. Just a little scratch.

- It is never just a little scratch. It will multiply

- Your skin is not all you have to worry about. Cutting causes a lot of self-conscienceness about your body, which is just another worry you do not need!

- You might be planning a small scratch, but the razor slips. You can cut so deep you bleed out. You can't be stitched up if cut in a certain orientation (I will no be telling you this).

- No matter the size, you are prone to infections, some are even fatal.

 Question #2: Regardless of my current cutting habits, how can I hide my scars from everyone?

- Honestly, I don't want to answer this. I'd rather you stop because you can't have people see them. And quite truthfully, there is no way to hide them. Some day, you will have them seen, or at least questioned.

- Long sleeves work well, but avoid wearing them in hot climates; questions may be asked.

- Bracelets! Lots of bracelets! Stack them up!

- Jackets. This shows you can take it off and be cooler, but still supplies the cover up.

- Rub a cut up lemon across your scars daily. It really works!

- Once legal, I'm getting a tattoo across my wrist. I'll see it anytime I'm triggered. Photo below!

Question #3: How can I stop cutting? I'm ready for help!

- I quit cold turkey (such an unflattering expression).  It was tough, but I liked it. I stopped the moment I realized I was bleeding more than ever before. I counted it day by day. I made myself wear shorts and short sleeves; my body open for all approving eyes. I will admit to giving in occasionally, even now, but very rarely. I stopped officially, I say, in October--towards the end. I think I have a small relapse every month. Mostly just one little "session". My most previous was actually Sunday. I didn't cut, but I chewed my lip till I bled.

- Think of how nice it will be to have normal clothing! You might have to pick your wedding dress around your scars! That would be the pits! How will you tell your kids? What happens if your mom walks in on your changing--or anyone, for that matter? You will have to explain the scars.

- Won't you be proud to have accomplished something that once seemed just so damn implausible?

Relationships in the 21st Century: From "Courting" to "FWB"

Question #1: He wants to fool around only. Is that okay?

-Absolutely never ever do this. Promising, one person always ends up hurt.

- If it's your first time to do anything, don't you want to share it with someone special?

- I don't care who denies it, you will never be comfortable friends again. It will always be shifty eyes and interests in one's shoes.

- You can end up with some sort of STD, and you most certainly don't want one if it wasn't even for someone worth it!

- Boys are boys. He will mostly likely tell his friends and the word will get out. Trust me.

 

Question #2: How do I know if I should break up with him? 

- I have a rather interesting checklist to know if he's wrong or staying strong:

1. Does he make you laugh?
2. Do you trust him around other girls? (All. Not just that one girl.)
3. Do you have fights more than once every two weeks? Not bickers. Fights.
4. Do you like the same music?
5. Do you like the same movies?
6. Does he make you feel bright?
7. Do you guys get to do goofy things?
8. Do you think he just smells lovely?
9. Do you see yourself with him next year?
10. Does he make you sad?

Question #3: Am I ready for sex?
- Do you love him?
- Are you ready to support a child if you happen to have one?
- Will he stay with you if he is the father?
- Do you want to? Or does he?
- Are you knowledgeable on safety? STDs and HIV? Do you understand how you can get pregnant?

Friends or as Annoying as the Bends?

Question #1: She was telling someone something I didn't give her permission to share. Now it's a  rumor circling the school!

-Was she talking about you behind your back? That isn't a friendly thing to do! But if she was asking for advice, and the other person exaggerated it to a rumor, that isn't so bad. You both need to talk about it and decide how to react comfortably.

Question #2: We like the same guy!

- Some argue that DIBS! is the best determination. I think neither of you should make a move before one of you are over him. Make sure she is okay with this!

Question #3: Best friends--Can't talk openly?

- Been friends since elementary school? You feel obligated to be friends. Never! If you can't talk, then you can't be friends. Friends are real.

- Ask them to open up. If they seem agitated, give them some space.

- Seek trust in her. Open up a little at a time.

- If you can't trust them, you need to tell them.

It isn't easy to talk to parents, but you should try it some time.

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Writing



Teenage Hearts

We are teenage hearts. Forever young. We think we know it all, but we don't. No, we don't. And I heard you moved on, moved away, somewhere down the coast is what they say. I think that's great. . . . I . . . I am in love. So much in love. I am in love with you. - Teenage Hearts by Allstar Weekend

I didn't really listen to grown ups when I was little. They were just old children whose imagination had been eaten by society, creativity discouraged by teachers, and people that just plain out reeked of moth balls. (I was a very sassy 10 year old.)

I listened to my friends. While the old hags had been complaining about teenagers rampaging around in oversized jeans and always high and wasting money at the mall and inhaling any food they walked by, my friends and I couldn't wait.
Love. Privilages. Freedom, really.

No. Oh, hell no. That is not what it is.
I'm only fifteen and I've realized something: Those ancient baby boomers knew a thing or two. And that is coming from someone who didn't see the point of them. (This occured about the time I first read The Giver.)

This isn't going to be very interesting, but this blog is mostly about getting everything off my chest. So, I shall tell you about my recent 24 hours. But, mind you, a little background information is rather necessary.

In December, I fell in love with my best friend. Yes, I know, how stereotypical. And perhaps I haven't fallen in love, perhaps I don't know how amazing that feeling is, but I'm about as close to it as perceivable. Now, this kid, whom we shall call Joe, loved me. But, there's a little big twist: We live in different cities. It isn't but a 2.5 hour drive, but it's not like I can see him very often. I didn't want that. I thought distance would ruin us, you know, like it often does.

Come January, I realized how stupid I had been! As I worked up the courage to tell him that I love him and want to be with him, he texts me that, oh yeah, he has a girlfriend.
I was flipping the flip out.
I texted him and called him and skyped him for evermore to find out all about this girl. She was pretty. Not as pretty as me, he said himself. Not as funny as me. Basically like me, minus looks, humor, and the fact that Joe and I share moderate depression.
Okay. That's okay. I'd get over Joe. I'd be fine.
I tried making it work with a guy that left after I quit FWB.
I tried making it work with a guy that was so sweet. He, actually, was a lot like Joe. But, unfortunately, this kid liked someone. And I never had the same butterflies Joe gave me. This guy gave me more of moths. Something. But not everything.

I told Joe how it was. How much I loved him. No. He still had feelings for me, but he was going to stay with his girlfriend, Savannah (we will call her Savannah).
Anyhow, this was devasting. Basically, I was depressed. Basically, Joe was hurt as well. Basically, we didn't talk much for a good month.
This past week, Savannah left Joe. She didn't actually love him. While Joe is a wreck, I'm constantly telling him knock-knock jokes and calling him cute nicknames and making him chuckle. He likes me. He just needs time.

This really brings a whole new meaning to T Swift's Back to December.

How do I feel all these emotions in these photos?

Yesterday, a classmate asked what I have (why I'm sick and all that annoying jazz). I told her it's the way I perceive pain, I don't process it properly. She said, I quote, "Awh, that's so cool!" I nearly bitch slapped her in the middle of the silent library. How is this cool? How is being introverted in an extroverted world even remotely fascinating? How is being a patient at a hospital rather fancy? How is being sick during homecoming and a military ball (I was asked to for JROTC) joyful in the least? Teenagers. Teenagers don't think before they speak. That's why I'm so . . . alone, I guess. I can't relate to any teenager. No one writes; no one likes psychology; no one likes being doofy; no one gets excited when they see even a silly Smart car. No one is like me. Just that simplistic; I'm not average.

Tonight, we received a call about my blood work results (I had some run on Monday). My heart leaped from my chest. I was so faint, I barelt had the strength to reach out and catch the broken little thing before placing back behind my breast plate.

I have to have another pneumonia shot. I have to, subsequently, have more tests run. I could have something like streptococcus pneumoniae or haemophilus influenza. A couple others too. And, you know what? I could die. I could be pushing my experation date at this exact moment. Horrifying, isn't it!?

I haven't even been to Canada yet!!! Honestly, this smarter than the average bear over there says it all. Thanks, Teddy.

Other than that, I guess life isn't the worst. I mean, people being jealous of something you find a pain, love, and some ginormous burden sure fits the average teenage life, I do suppose.

"High school's the place where dreams go to die." - The Downtown Fiction

Anywho, I get to see Joe this weekend. I'm immensely hopeful it will change things. Truthfully, I just don't even know what to think of anything anymore.

I have to go eat and do some silly home work now. Have a tremendous night. If you read all the way down here, I'm super proud (for reals).

Please enjoy this text photo I created.