tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43620415007478205742024-02-18T23:09:39.805-06:00abbinormalnessAbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-48652363950524242402011-12-12T23:43:00.001-06:002011-12-12T23:52:13.449-06:00MisunderstandingsTo my old readers and my new sisters,<br />
<br />
Please read what I'm going to say very very carefully.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Thank you.<br />
Wishing you well,<br />
Abi-- Abi Normal.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-32654412278644482142011-12-07T19:24:00.001-06:002011-12-07T19:39:59.595-06:00Response to "Queer in a Sorority."http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-LD_6dHQrE<br />
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</div>please just watch..Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-29582217825288477942011-12-07T14:40:00.001-06:002011-12-07T21:18:38.499-06:00Queer in a SororityI 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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...Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-43078651380723924832011-11-30T01:36:00.000-06:002011-11-30T01:36:29.736-06:00Tears that FallTears 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...<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I cry because I don't know when I will be truly and genuinely happy again.<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
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...<br />
<br />
And so I cry.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-49346953489838197342011-11-28T14:47:00.000-06:002011-11-28T14:47:53.641-06:00My NameMy 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-54760291167181037322011-11-24T18:01:00.000-06:002011-11-24T18:01:35.944-06:00ThanksgivingThanksgiving is soposed to be a time of giving thanks. I give thanks for many things, loves of the past, friends who are always there, and my amazing family. I am not going to lie and say I'm the perfect person who never gets mad and is always there for you, but I can say I do so much to try to be... Unfortunately I am bipolar, and I do have moments of rage. As most of you (my readers) might have noticed, I don't sugar coat how I'm feeling. Please keep in mind, I write those things in the moment and work through what I feel. I don't hide who I am either in person or in my writing. I write what I am feeling and how I take a situation to be. This might not be right, but it is what happened in my point of view.<br />
I'm not going to say everything I do is right or fully thought out, but I will say sometimes my emotions change. I don't often feel the need to take back what I say, but I can say sorry for what I do. I have apologized already to those people I have hurt. I'm not going to apologize for what I was feeling at the moment, but I will apologize for how I handled it. I'm sorry. I never admitted to being the perfect person, and I have told you that from the start. I'm sorry for being 'that' person. But I have admitted from the moment you noticed that what I did was wrong. I did all I could... The rest is up to you....<br />
I wish I could be thankful for your friendship today, but I understand if you don't want that because of the one mistake I made in a moment of rage. Please, I beg you, remember how much I have helped in the past. Remember how I cared about you from the first time I meet you. Remember how much good I've done... Forgive my mistake like I have yours. That is all I ask.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-86339475058674436862011-11-15T19:06:00.000-06:002011-11-15T19:06:53.680-06:00Childhood ChaptersOnly a few hours left of my childhood. I'm almost 20, tomorrow will be the day. I really don't know what to think about what is going to happen to me. Will I magically change over night? Unlikely.<br />
<br />
I look back at the things I've done, and some of it was stupid... Ok fine ahellofalot of it was stupid. Honestly? Hospitilized? I'm past that. Getting into stupid fights? I'm done with it... Ok fine, I will only get into stupid fights with the awesome people!<br />
<br />
I've grown so much in the past nine-teen years three hundred and sixty four days and some odd hours. But at the same time, I feel as though I don't want to grow up. I want to stay care-free all my life. I want to keep my teddy bear. I want to continue to dance in the rain!<br />
<br />
Although I am growing up, maturing into my mind and body, I know I don't have to give everything up. I for sure will NOT give up my teddy bear at all. He is my rock and will always be there if I need someone to cry on. But my old dreams have come true, or some of them have. I have new dreams now (such as dating Darren Chriss), and I hope many of them come true. A new chapter of my life is beginning. And I can not wait for it to start :)Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-51877837274662552472011-11-08T22:19:00.000-06:002011-11-08T22:19:08.256-06:00Tell Me SomethingTell me something, and don't try to lie. I know the truth and can read it in your eyes. You know how I feel, you know I don't like lies. I've said it before, I don't lie, and I expect the same respect from you. Honeslty, I have no idea what you want, if not the truth. I am not going to change who I am, my integrety in order to make you feel better about yourself.<br />
<br />
You sit there, and lie to my face, knowing I know the truth, and you think it's ok that I know the truth and you lie. It's not. If I ask you a question, I expect you to tell me truth, in every circumstance. Why would you go lie to my face, especially about something so unimportant like this?<br />
<br />
If you really cared, you would actually take the time to find my blog. I know you wont be my friend on facebook, because we are 'to close'. But I do know you know my blog. If you really wanted to know what is going on in my life, you would find it. It's not hard. Look up my name, and blogg after it, there you go. If you are going to lie to me and tell me you care, at least take the actions and act that you do.<br />
<br />
But here you are, in my room, on my couch, telling me ow you find it rude that people are in the middle of a conversation, and yet one is texting. You say you hate it when people do that... Someone texted you, and you are replying, ignoring me completely. Hypocrite, you do one thing and preach another. Now? You are on the phone. With another girl. Do you know how heartbroken that made me? You are ignoring me, in my own room... How do I end this?... Do I want to end this?.....Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-91365802797474274852011-11-07T14:43:00.000-06:002011-11-07T14:43:50.712-06:00To My Ex-LoveTo My Ex Love,<br />
<br />
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been a bitch. You hurt me so much, I completely lost all the sense I had left in my mind. You grounded me, and made me stable. When you ended it, it was as if I was standing horizontally on a piece of twine. I couldn't feel stable if I tried. I couldn't feel anything. I didn't want to ever forgive you for hurting me like that.<br />
<br />
I wanted to go back to my old ways, multiple times. On several occasions, I was prepared, and I wanted to go through with it more than anything. But then I remembered the promise I made you, the first official day we spent together. "Please don't ever leave me like that. I don't care if you don't want to be with me, please, just don't leave me like that." Although I was not the one to leave, I still hold true to my promise. It is because of that promise I made you that I am still standing here counting to my two year mark ( still a ways away).<br />
<br />
I love you. I don't know how anymore. But I do know that I don't hurt anymore. I can see you, walking the other way, standing in the same elevator, and my heart no longer falls to the floor because I want you back as my girlfriend. My heart falls to the floor because I now know that I have been acting in a way that is unlike me. I miss you. I'm not going to lie and say I am completely over you, but I am to the point where I know it's ok to smile in passing, poke one another on facebook, and perhaps a conversation if we share an elavator.<br />
<br />
I hope you still read my blogg and see my apology. It is the best I can do. The best explanation I can give for my rude actions, for running away, and for not seeing you in the elevator (for the record, I was cleaning my glasses and didn't notice it WAS you until you were getting off). I hope the ice is melted enough for this to go through, and I hope you know all I say is true. I love you, but I have let go, and I hope you are moved on as I am moving forward.<br />
<br />
-AbiAbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-72673912830114743852011-11-01T21:30:00.001-05:002011-11-01T21:36:59.758-05:00NormalThe worst thing I could ever call you is NORMAL. Why? Because to be NORMAL is to be one of the crowd that no one would ever be able to tell you apart from someone else. I want to look and see you right away, to see the person I love, and know that you are one of a kind, unique. You can't be unique if you are normal.<br />
In order to be NORMAL, you would have to give up all self worth and fold to what you perceive to be accepted by society. And once you get accepted, you lose who you truly where. The problem is, once you fold to society, you have to keep pretending like you really are who they think you are. It would be hard for you to leave that, because you feel safe and secure. But once you walk away from the group, even if for just a little while, they bash you, because that is what they see as NORMAL.<br />
Is that what you want to be? Because I know, personally, I would rather keep my name, Abi. Abi Normal. Not to be confused with regular Normal, but rather Abnormal. :)Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-88824044364232207482011-11-01T06:52:00.000-05:002011-11-01T06:52:36.445-05:00Never Gonna ChangeI finally found myself, and I'm not about to let me go that easily. No one can take me away from me, and if they try, I won't go down without a fight. I hid who I was for such a long time, pretending I was straight, pretending I was everyone's friend, pretending I didn't care if you spoke behind my back. Well I'm none of those things.<br />
I am proud of myself and who I am. Not everyone is going to like me, and I accepted that fact. I'm not here to please everyone, but if who I am makes you happy, then of corse I would love for you to come be my friend. I do care what you say about me, especially if it is hurtful. But I try my damn hardest not to let it effect me and who I am. Sure I will be upset for a little but, but then I realize that it does not matter! IT DONT MATTER! All that matters is that I love myself, and that there are people out there that love me and wouldn't want me to change at all. If you are not one of those people, I'm not about to bend over to kiss your ass to be your friend.<br />
1- I'm so short I probably wouldn't have to bend over<br />
2- If I have to change for you, then you are not a very good friend.<br />
I am going to be me, and that is all I am going to be. I am NEVER gonna change to something that aint me.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-11027905780585301192011-10-27T12:27:00.000-05:002011-10-27T12:27:42.807-05:00If You Had A HeartIf you had a heart, you wouldn't keep breaking mine. You call me immature, well I am assuming you have no idea what I am going through, or if you do then you have no heart nor empathy for me.<br />
<br />
Have you lost someone you held dear? Yes? Then stop judging me for crying. Have you ever lost someone you love, heart and soul? Yes? Then stop judging me for thinking there is no one else out there for me. Have you ever been so afraid of going back into your past, that you might resort to your last option? Yes? Then stop judging me for walking away when I need a moment.<br />
<br />
If you said no, then you can not judge me because I am going through something that your imagination can not even fathom nor come close to creating for you to even think you understand what I am going through.<br />
<br />
If you had a heart, you would stop breaking mine by giving me the impression that I am weak, or that you no longer care.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-6646187587728442122011-10-26T06:45:00.001-05:002011-10-27T12:34:14.155-05:00Can't Help But ThinkI can't help but think, how many people read my blog. I know that I can see the views, but viewing my blog is different that seeing it. I want to know, if you do read it, do you really care what I have to say? Like if I said I wanted nothing more to do with this life would you call 911, or call me if you know me? Or would you just read that and think, "shame, she was really entertaining."<br />
There is also the little fact that maybe only a few people read my posting and keep re-reading it and re-readign it and re-reading it. Hence the many views. I want to know who exactly is reading it. To see who takes the 5 min out of their day to read what I have to think or how I am feeling. I would never lie in my writings, but somehow I feel as though that thought is overlooked...<br />
So answer me this, no this is not rhetorical, how many people read my blog? And the bigger question is, how many people care about what they read?Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-44471508860606198982011-10-10T21:18:00.000-05:002011-10-10T21:18:19.429-05:00Then is Now is Scary<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">It scares me how I am thinking.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">The way I did so long ago.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I don't want to be here no more,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">so here's how the story will go:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Train tracks, dont look back</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">busy street, finish it neat.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">one step, all thats left</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">a simple mistake, it all it takes.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">to end it here, end it all.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">one clumsy girl, and she did fall</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">off the curb and into the street</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">a car was too close, just a few feet.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">no time to stop, wheels screech</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">but its too late, she's now six feet deep..</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">There is my end. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">now you all know</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">I'm back where I started,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">so long ago.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">Goodbye,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">good luck</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">so long my friends,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">this world was too hard,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;">it forced me to end. </span></span>Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-74951387396338248902011-10-07T17:43:00.000-05:002011-10-07T17:43:42.323-05:00Keep On WalkingI want keep on walking<br />
I want to walk so far<br />
and when I'm tired of walking<br />
I'm gonna walk some more.<br />
Past the place of hurt<br />
and past the place of pain<br />
past the place of thunderstorms<br />
and past the place of shame.<br />
<br />
I don't want to find the sunshine<br />
I don't want to find the 'greener'<br />
I just want to find the only place<br />
where I wont get meaner.<br />
I'll never be good enough<br />
and I never have been.<br />
my patience is wearing out<br />
and my sweetness is getting thin.<br />
<br />
I'm done, I'm out<br />
I'm sick of this game.<br />
I want nothing more<br />
I've never been the same.<br />
Make it all stop<br />
just end it now<br />
just stop it all<br />
I don't care how.<br />
<br />
end..Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-71623514979379235282011-09-29T21:58:00.000-05:002011-09-29T21:58:30.602-05:00One Year AgoOne year ago is when I started to post on this blogg. Since then, I have changed so much. I am much more confident in myself, and I no longer think that this blog is not read by anyone. I know people read it now, and it makes me see how far I have come in one year.<br />
<br />
One year ago I was afriad to walk down the street at night. Now I am able to be at the library this late and walk home alone, granted that is probably not the smartest thing I have ever done, but I now know how to handle myself in a horrible situation.<br />
<br />
One year ago I was pretty much a loner, I didn't have many friends, ad I didn't know how to make any. Now I have so many friends, most of the time I will be walking to class and see someone I know. That is a major improvement.<br />
<br />
One year ago I was a closeted queer woman. Now, I am outed and not ashamed. Granted it is not the first thing I tell people I meet, can you imagine? Introducing myself as "Hi, I'm Abi, and I'm queer"? I get enough shit for being so honest and open as it is thank you very much!<br />
<br />
One year ago I was too afraid to be myself, and now look at me, I came out and have been more confident than ever! I lost a few friends, but gain some more. I was afraid to dress how I wanted, and now I am dressing myself every day! :)<br />
<br />
There are so many things I could compare about one year ago and today, but I gave you the important ones. Thank you for reading my blogg, and thank you for all your support over the last year. It really does mean a lot to me.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-11965106776364726272011-09-29T21:11:00.000-05:002011-09-29T21:11:51.611-05:00Playful NeighborsI wish I could say that we could be more but you don't see me in 'that' way. Im just the girl down the hall to you... The girl who is bipolar and likes to 'play'. Maybe it's because you think I really am taken, perhaps that's why you don't want this to be serious... Then again, you said "I'm not looking for a relationship right now" before I said I was in a relationship... Perhaps I should tell you the truth, that the girl I love really isn't my girlfriend... Maybe the playing isn't enough to convince you that we really do have chemistry.<br />
<br />
Since the first time I saw you,I realized that something was going to happen to us... and it did... I just don't know where it's going to lead us... I hope you know that. I'm not some slut even if I do act like it. And I'm confident enough with myself to act this way, No matter what happens, I am always going to be honest with you... Maybe I'll joke every now and then, but I'll never lie.<br />
<br />
My girlfriend? That's not a lie, she is my girlfriend. We have a relationship unlike any other. Intimate and physical. Everything I could ask for. But I'm still asking if you could see us being more, or will we forever just be playful neighbors?Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-76641555394876424172011-09-16T16:39:00.000-05:002011-09-16T16:39:32.031-05:00Poems, Buses, and MemoriesI keep finding poems I wrote for you.. It's hard for me to sit here and read these amazing pieces and know that the feeling didn't last... I write poems for so few people, and the words I write are real and me. It's hard for me to know we are no longer....<br />
I saw you today again.. I was waiting for the 85 bus and you walked right past... I don't know if you just didn't look at me because you read my last blog and know how much the look killed me inside, or because you didn't notice me. I don't know which answer is worse for me to think of as the truth... I don't want you to ignore me, but I don't want you to notice me either...<br />
Distractions only do so much, I still wake up at night shaking because I had a dream about you, about the letter, about the lies that I lived for an entire month. A MONTH. You lead me to believe you still loved me in 'that' way for a whole month. I was hanging on all the memories we made in the short time we were together. If you don't believe me just look back on my blog. I know you are reading it. The fact that you kept me hanging on for that long leads me to believe you didn't love me the way you said you did... And that is what hurts the most.<br />
Every moment I don't see you, I long to see you and have your love again... But then every time I see you all I feel is pain and confusion...<br />
<br />
I suppose what I'm trying to say is... I don't know what I'm doing or how I should feel....Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-37187331671844389822011-09-15T18:27:00.000-05:002011-09-15T18:27:39.485-05:00But I amI hope you are happy... I'm doing everything I promised... I am actually moving on. I don't seem so sad anymore... But then I see what I wrote about you and then all the feelings come rushing back to me....<br />
There is someone, and he is helping me move on. But this guy, he's not looking for a relationship, and neither am I.. He is just there to make me feel like I am attractive and people would want to be with me in any way shape or form.. See what I have been reduced to? Falling for someone who would never seriously be with me BECAUSE I just like the idea that he likes me... He doesn't know much of my past, but he knows enough that it feels fine.. How the hell can I be happy with a guy like this? But I am. But I am.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-51662615795985116932011-09-09T00:24:00.000-05:002011-09-09T00:24:18.772-05:00The First TimeThe first time, the first time I saw you in weeks, perhaps 2 months since the last time I saw you, one month since my heart was shattered. I walked into the building I moved into just to be closer to you, I was speaking with my friends, marching in the front... All of a sudden I look ahead, and I see you... Your hat, your jeans, and your gray shirt... I saw your hair, the messy knot in the back pulled through the hat.... It all broke my heart again... I last looked at your face... The face I once remembered covered in the look of love, the face that danced in my dreams.... It was worse than I could have imagined... The look on your face was as if you were seeing me, and I was an ugly person who did you wrong... It hurt, it hurt me so much...<br />
I forced myself to look away... I forced myself to keep my pace at a steady pace.. But my smile was gone... Tears swam to my eyes... I walked and turned a corner... My friends laughed on. As soon as I turned the corner I broke out into a run. Where did I want to go? I didn't know. I just ran on. I took a left, I could hear my friends chasing me and calling my name. I didn't stop. I saw the doors, I pushed through and ran out to the warm fall air. I was dizzy, the tears over flowed. I was crying... I sat on the steps and cried... How long until my friends found me I didn't know. All I know was that seeing that look on her face broke my heart and confirmed my suspicion.... She really doesn't care...<br />
My friends found me, they asked me what was wrong, and I replied through sobs, "I told you, I told you if I saw her I would cry... I saw her..." I don't remember what they said to that, I just remember them sitting down and trying to comfort me. I remember crying and not caring who could hear me... I remember all the hurt I felt as soon as I read the letter that she sent me.... And then, I remember I needed to do something that would make me forge the feeling I had... And it is something I regret almost instantly...<br />
I stopped crying... I stopped, and knew I needed to do something else.... What, I didn't know.... Just something... And so I did.<br />
The tears may come again, and I may feel the hurt for many moons more, but I can honestly say, the letter will be burned as soon as I am able to set it a-flame. I will move on from who I thought would be there forever. And I will never be able to forgive myself for saying this, but I will continue to love her, but I will now avoid her.... Because the more I see her, the more my heart breaks... This time I only saw her for a few seconds, 15 at the most. That broke my heart more than I thought possible.... I don't want to feel that hurt, because it was that hurt that made me convince myself that there is worse pain out there... It was more or less because of a feeling of hurt that made me start to hurt myself... And I will never go back.<br />
I wanted nothing more than to hurt myself.. But I wont. I made a promise to myself I would stay strong... And I will... No matter who hurts me... No matter how much I love or loved them... No matter what they did to make me feel like that.... I will always love myself... And I will never hurt myself again...Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-49205894837355031932011-08-27T06:06:00.000-05:002011-08-27T06:06:19.674-05:00My Heart FallsMy heart keeps falling into my stomach. This entire trip to Australia.... Not just because of car sickness either... It's just... I don't feel like who I thought I was. I don't feel brave anymore. For moments in time I will forget about my hurt and feel happy, and the happiness will be true. The only problem is that once I remember the hurt, I feel horrible that I am happy again.<br />
<br />
There is this man, he has been hogging the computers all night. My mom needed it to fix a flight problem we have for tomorrow. She waited like 30 min or so, and asked if he would be off soon. He said he had business and could wrap it up faster if she needed. About 5 min later, my mom, I am assuming to be nice, told him she couldn't use the computer anymore she did not have the right information. He looked at her like she was crazy. My mom walked out and he said "I just lost a lot of money on her, stupid people."<br />
<br />
I should have said something, but I couldn't.. That feeling is sort of what I felt every time I wanted to feel happy but couldn't....Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-87994121484023586712011-08-19T14:01:00.000-05:002011-08-19T14:01:11.887-05:00*shakes head* Racists.Ok, any person who says there is no racism in this country just because we have a black president is blind to the actual issues in this world. Not only that, but they piss me off. Why don't THEY live through the stairs when you walk in a store. Why don't THEY walk down the street and get called names. Why don't they open their goddamn eyes and see what is going on EVERYWHERE?<br />
The thing is, THEY CANT because they are WHITE. It pisses me off when they pull some stat out their ass proving there is no racism, and if there is its from the black community. One, that is racist. Two, they are stupid. Three- FUCK OFF UNTIL THEY ARE TREATED DIFFERENTLY IN A BAD WAY JUST BECAUSE OF HOW THEY LOOK, THEY WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-64094496325518972992011-08-19T11:10:00.000-05:002011-08-19T11:10:33.387-05:00I Don't Get itYou don't get it, you just don't fucking get it. It is hard to let you go. I love you so much... I am trying, trying to let you go... But some part of me does not want to let go. I am trying to move on, but whenever someone smiles at me in 'that' way, I only think of you.... You were all that ran through my head every day, and now I just want you to stand still... How can someone who makes me so mad yet I love so much frustrate me so?<br />
I have read your letter at least a hundred times, and I still don't get it... I still cry... I am trying to move on, I really am. But love is not something I can just turn off because you don't feel it too. It will always be there... In my mind and my heart... But I will try to move on, and I will eventually succeed.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-13198930845373455342011-08-16T21:23:00.000-05:002011-08-16T21:23:00.031-05:00I Give UpI GIVE UP. I wish I could say on everything... But honestly I can't say that. I suppose I give up on trying...<br />
<br />
I don't want to try to get along with everyone. I don't want to try to figure out why some people are mean and give them another shot and give them another shot. Honestly, there are only so many shots that I can give, and even less shots that they deserve. If a person is a jerk from the first moment I meet them, what are the chances that they will change? Slim to none.<br />
<br />
I GIVE UP<br />
<br />
I give up on trying to find someone who will NEVER judge me or hate me or get upset with me. I know I have problems, and I admit this not only to myself but to other people as well. Why should I try to act like I am perfect when I know I am not? Why should I act like someone I know I am not just to please people? WHY!?<br />
<br />
I give up... I give up on a lot of things.... But those are the two I will tell you about today, maybe others on other days will come out, but this is all I can bear to say at this moment in time...Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4362041500747820574.post-42501186136816677702011-08-12T19:08:00.000-05:002011-08-12T19:08:51.163-05:00Rant for the DayI give up. I just wanted to do something for me. I wanted cookies. I made cookies. I stood in the hot kitchen making them... I mixed, I cooked, I wanted to eat... I took them out of the oven and I asked everyone if they wanted one. They all said yes, I told them NOT to take the big cookies. I had too much dough so I decided not to eat any cookies at that time. I went on a run, and I came home. I took a shower and I sat in the living room. I came out at like 1030... almost all the cookies were gone... I repeated, do not eat the big cookies or the ones in the container (because I put some aside for my friend Erika). I went to bed. I woke up and saw there were AT MOST 5 cookies left. One of which was a big cookie... I ate all but two cookies, one big and one little. I was going to save them for after dinner. The rest of my day went fine. That is until my brother came home and ate my cookie. My BIG cookie. Now normally I wouldn't make a big skeptical of a cookie. But after I told everyone NOT to eat the big cookies, and after being dumped, after being alone for DAYS straight... I am allowed to bitch him out. OH! Not to mention that he promised me brownies, and did not deliver said brownies: I really am allowed to bitch him out.<br />
End of my rant for the day.Abihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02249938246362856020noreply@blogger.com0