Monday, December 12, 2011


To my old readers and my new sisters,

Please read what I'm going to say very very carefully.

I have depression. I don't care who tries to tell me that depression isn't an illness, I am going through a phase, etc etc. I have a problem, I know this. But I am NOT going to act on any of those thoughts running through my head. I am NOT going to go jump in front of a car, I am NOT going to pick up a knife and hurt myself again. I may have the urge to, but it took me over two years to be more powerful than that urge, to be in control of myself. I am NOT going to be that person again.

I don't care if what you read you think is threatening to myself. I don't care if what you think is my final good bye for a facebook status, I am NOT going to end myself. Me writing anything is what is keeping me strong. It brings me back to the time when I was not in control of my actions, when all I did was want to hurt myself and then act on the thought; it brings me back to that and keeps me from going there. It reminds me how much I had hurt myself and all the people who care about me. I am NOT going back to that place.
The reason why I know I am not going to is because I know I have so much more to live for. I know I have so much to do with my life. I know I am stronger than that. I know this now.

I am not going to post on this blog anymore. The reason why is because all this concern about what I am writing, which has never been a problem before, is causing me stress. Stress that I CAN NOT afford to have in my life. My writing is a therapy technique that I was taught a long time ago. It helps me come to conclusions in my mind, work out what I am thinking, and learn from it. As I stated earlier, it reminds me I am stronger than I was before.

So please understand, I am NOT in danger of myself. I am NOT about to resort to anything drastic. I am receiving help, I have been for quite some time. And if something does concern you, please come to me, face to face or on the phone, because although I find myself a person of words, my words are misinterpreted (as many of you have clearly noticed) and it is easier to explain when I am there in person. I can clear up whatever it is and help you understand more about what I am going through.

Thank you.
Wishing you well,
Abi-- Abi Normal.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Response to "Queer in a Sorority."

please just watch..

Queer in a Sorority

I am a sorority girl now. My sisters love me and I love them. But the problem is, I don't feel as though they accept me completely. Of course, there are a few who have accepted me all together, I can tell by they way they talk to me. There are others who still don't seem to accept me... and by me, I mean all of me, they are still not comfortable with the fact that I am queer.

I have explained this earlier to you, my readers, but I will catch up those who just joined us. I am queer, I am pansexual. This means I am not attracted physically to any person. I like them for their personality, and they can be either male, female, gender-neutral, or anything. I have been told before that this is noble and I am a fair person to be able to look past one's looks. Well guess what, I have nothing to do with that. I never chose to be this person. I chose to acknowledge this part of me, but I never chose to be that person.

You would think that me not being attracted to anyone sex, any person, would be better to understand for a group of girls (still young compared to me, I am the oldest in the group seeing how I just turned 20 and most are still 18, some 17) instead of saying I am attracted to women, or both women and men. I promised them I was not going to hit on them, because I see them as sisters. I also told them how I was not going to stare at them in the hopes that they will realize they are queer too and we would fall in love. I told them all this, and yet some still seem stand-off-ish towards me. I have done nothing wrong. or at least, I don't think I have. It is hard for me to be so far away where the harassment begun in my life, I moved in the hopes of leaving behind the hurt, and yet there is still some where I am. They are not harassing me I suppose, but they are not treating me the way they did when we first meet, before they knew I was queer.

I have it on good authority that some words were exchanged between girls, and one said "Don't tell this to Abi." This has happened on several occasions, and the only reason why this would be said would be because what they are saying is homophobic and insulting to me. Many of them are white females, very few are of color, like myself. They do not understand what it means to be a minority until they walk down the street and have had harsh words screamed at them and cans tossed while half full. Knowing I can not even speak of my sexuality, and feeling very awkward in a group when they speak of how hot a guy in their building is, is hard on me. I try so hard to have them feel comfortable around me, I don't speak of it unless it comes up and even then I keep it short, I would like the same respect shown to me... I know they probably wont change for the 1% of their pledge class... But I am their sister now, and the way some have been acting toward me (or to others about me) hurts... I just wish they could see that...

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Tears that Fall

Tears that fall from my eyes are tears that are hard for me to cry... I cry for many reasons, but mainly because I always act like I am happy... The truth is, I don't know if I am happy or not... I won't say I'm necessarily sad, I'm just not sure if I am happy...

I have been through a hell of a lot in life... More in my 20 years of living than most people for their whole life... But I don't know what I want to do with it.. The rest of my life stretches out in front of me, and I don't want to deal with it... I don't want to work to be happy, I should just BE.

I do many things with my hands, intricate work that keeps my mind focused... I feel as though that is just because I don't want to have my mind wander away from something I can control. Will this scarf be red, or white? Will I drop a stitch? I have to focus so much with what I am doing, I have no opportunity to feel anything other than concentration.

I cry because I don't know when I will be truly and genuinely happy again.

I wish for love... I miss being in love. That feeling of always having someone to go to, to make you smile and forget your worries, someone to hold you and kiss away your tears... I want that feeling again... But no matter what I do, I feel as though my sadness drives away all the love that ever was in my life... My first serious boyfriend: I tried to protect him from my sadness and anger and that drove him away..... My first love: I let him in too much, I let him take too much, and he loved me with the money he had... My last love: I don't know what went wrong there exactly... I just miss the feeling of love... I want it...

And I feel that is why I did what I did when I was with my neighbor. I went to him when I needed the space filled, the emptiness filled... I knew it wouldn't last, and yet I went to him anyway because I knew for that moment, I could feel whole again. When I ended it, I felt free, but now I feel trapped.. I feel trapped BECAUSE now I have nothing to give me that feeling of whole, not even for a moment...

And so I cry.

Monday, November 28, 2011

My Name

My name is Abigail, it means Joy or a Father's Joy in Hebrew. I shorten it to Abi. The reason why I spell it this way is because I needed to change it.

My parents named me, actually my mother named me. The nickname Abby came with it. Yes, I did spell it ABBY. I used to love the way it was spelt, I loved to spell it Abby double b and y, I loved how it looked with the double B and this loopy thing on the end that was a Y. The problem was... is... I'm no longer that little girl.

This is why I changed it. I attempted to change it around junior year of high  school. But I got so much crap from my friends about changing it. I hated what they were doing to me... Making me keep this name I hated just to please them. By senior year, I had completely changed it. The beginning of each new class I was in, a teacher would ask if we were known by a nick name, I said Abi, A-B-I. They said that was unique and they liked it, but I continued to get strange looks from my classmates. I didn't care anymore.

The reason why I changed it was because I was no longer a little girl. I had grown and made mistakes... I finally adapted my name on Facebook, the biggest place where everyone would see. I loved the way it looked, unique and my way. I loved how I was now this new person... I didn't want to continue to be that fucked up Abby girl who everyone judged and cared what they thought. I didn't want to be that girl who wore long sleeves because she didn't want anyone to see the scares that ran up and down her arms. I didn't want to be Abby anymore.. I was a new person, and I had a new name.

I am now Abi, no matter what my computer says about my name being misspelt. I love my name, because it is an essence of me.