i hate college.
i just recently started school and i already hate it. if i could, i would quit while i'm ahead but for some reason i don't think anyone would be very happy with me if i did that. i'm under so much stress and every single day i come home crying. i hate school.
it wouldn't be so bad if i could stand the idiots i'm stuck in class with. maybe it would be better if my professors would teach me something i didn't learn in high school. yes, it's true that i've never enjoyed school. i've always seen it as something mundane and pointless. just another hurdle to jump over. but this is even worse because i simply just don't want to be there. at least in high school it was tolerable. now it's just.... ugh.
at least i have mitchell in my history class. he helps to distract me from the creepy ass teacher by making fun of the high school musical pencils i gave him - mitchell that is. not the teacher. that would be weird.
in conclusion, this post is pointless and i hate school and i'm going to go rip out all the pages in my textbooks now kthnxbai.
lately, i haven't been sleeping normally. for the past five or so months i've barely been sleeping at all. when i lie down at night to go to sleep, i just... can't. i lay there for hours and hours and even though i physically feel tired, my brain won't ever shut off and allow me to drift off. i've done that night after night and it never gets better. i have gotten to the point that i can't sleep at all until my body physically shuts down and makes me crash. when that happens, i sleep for massive amounts of time; i once slept for close to 30 hours.
the weirder thing is that when i do sleep, i don't dream. i used to dream literally every night. i had a dream journal filled up completely with the sometimes strange and unusual dreams i would have. i even bought a new one, but i haven't been able to write anything down in it. it's almost like i've lost the part of my brain that allows me to feel things the way i should. instead, i can only feel emptiness.
i suppose i could go to a doctor and tell them what's going on, but all they could do was give me a bunch of pills that i can't swallow anyway. that wouldn't fix anything in the end. so here's hoping that my body decides to be fucking normal for once and fix this problem before it hurts me in some weird way like i know it probably will.
i'm a freak. that is all.
mitchell, mitchell, mitchell. there are a lot of things that i can say about that boy. i could say that he's my best friend, my lover, the person i can call at three am no matter how fucked up i am. but he's more than that to me. he's the person i care about more than anything. i would swallow glass if it meant he would smile. if i had to, i would take a bullet for him because he means so much to me. i need him in my life. i'm not sure i'd be alive if it weren't for him, literally.
i remember in september of 2009, i called him in a suicidal rage, a half of a bottle of pills down my throat, the other half in my hand. i told him that i loved him and said what i thought would be the last goodbye. he wouldn't let it be. he called 911 and then drove over to my house and yanked me out of my bathtub, out of my oblivion. when came back to life - i was actually dead for five minutes, no joke - i hated him. i thought that he was the worst person in the world for caring so much that he wouldn't let me do what i thought i had to do. i screamed and cussed at him from my hospital bed. i told him i hated him, that i wanted him to die. i tried to get the hospital to kick him out, but he wouldn't leave. he stayed by my bedside and held my hand. when i went back to school, he told all the catty girls who thought i was a complete fuckup that they could rot in hell. he protected me when i needed it most. he wouldn't leave me.
a few months later, i was still barely living. he was worried about me but he didn't force me to talk about what was going on. the situation with my dad had reached a fever pitch and my life was shitty. i was throwing up after every meal and i was thin as a rail. i even passed out in history class one day, partly because of a panic attack and partly because of exhaustion. i wasn't okay, no matter what i otherwise claimed. he once found me crying in the bathtub after i cut myself to pieces. he helped me bandage myself up and kissed every cut and scar after he was done. i was extremely selfish in the moment, i didn't see how much i was hurting him by doing this to myself. i think a part of me knew, though. i couldn't ever bring myself to look him in the eyes when i did such things because i knew i couldn't deny it then that i had in fact hurt him. all he wanted to do was make me safe and happy, and i wasn't either.
in january of 2010, i was shipped off to school in pennsylvania while my mother worked out the family problems. the distance made things harder between mitchell and i, but he visited when he could. things fell apart in february when we got into a nasty fight where we both said things we shouldn't have. we didn't speak for weeks, but when we did, the emotional floodgates opened. it was then, i think, when i realized that i had to stop hiding my thoughts and pain from him. i couldn't get better if i had no one to help. so i let him help fix me.
by may, things were okay. mentally, i was in a much better place that i had been. i was still close to the edge, but i was slowly getting happier. but then there was a little... problem. actually, not so little. i ended up being pregnant. i was sixteen, about to graduate, and i had no fucking idea what to do. so i did what i had to, and that was.... well, you can imagine. it nearly killed mitchell. he was born to be a father and it hurt him more than i thought it would. he never flat out told me that he was shaken by it because he knew to respect my decision because it was my body and he couldn't do anything about it, but i knew. after the thing, when we lay in my bed at school as i drifted in and out of consciousness, i once woke up and i heard him softly crying. that tore my heart into pieces. he doesn't know i know about that and if he found out that i heard him, i know he would deny it. since then, he's been a little weird about certain things, but so have i. we're steal healing from that, but we've moved on. the past is dead and we can't change it. even though he hurt from that, he stayed with me. he could have run away like a scared puppy like most guys, but he didn't. he helped me through it, and i helped him.
anyway, the summer after that things were mostly okay. we both graduated. he got into an ivy league school as well as another one of the top schools in the country, i didn't even apply to college. even though he had the options to go to those places, he took a year off to be with me. fuck, he changed his whole life to be with me. he could have gone off to columbia university and been some sort of science thing like he had planned and had a successful life, but he didn't. he chose me over school. to this day, i still think he's a complete idiot for not choosing the other, but it's kind of flooring to think he wanted to build his future around someone as unstable as me, but he did. it's what he chose.
in the fall, my mother and i had a major fight and she kicked me out of the house. mitch's parents took me in for awhile, but eventually i went off to live with my grandmother for a bit, once again providing a wedge of distance between mitchell and i. this time it was especially hard because i met a guy in dc who i almost gave up mitch for. but i didn't. i stayed with the person i really loved, not some random person i lusted after. eventually i moved back in with my mom for a bit, before later on getting an apartment with mitch in the beginning of this year.
for awhile, things were constant. work, play, sex, food. but then in may (irony, right) things changed once again when i wound up being pregnant. again. he could have left me when he heard me say those two daunting words. did he? no. he told me he would be okay if i decided to do what i did last time. he told me he would be okay with adoption. he told me he would be okay with anything that i chose. nothing can erase my memory from that glimmer of hope he had in his pretty green eyes that day i told him, though. i knew what he wanted. i didn't know what i wanted. i still don't know what i want to this day. and i picked what i thought was right. i don't know if my decision was right yet or not, but i couldn't go through all of the hurt and sadness again. i couldn't. i'm not letting what i picked ruin my future, though. we both start college in a couple of weeks and i fully intend on graduating college and being a journalist like i've always sort of wanted. but anyway, not the point. after he found out, mitchell did what he thought was the right thing and proposed (he got one of those blank books that you can buy and on each page he wrote 'will you marry me' in a different language that i didn't know, and on the last page where the english version should have been he had ripped it out and then he asked me and yeah, it was adorable). and maybe it is the right thing, i don't know. but what matters is that he had the guts to stay. not only through all of the past, but through the future.
he means a lot to me. one thing he said after i said yes to his proposal will always stick out in my mind:
i love you taylor. life is so much brighter with you here. i'm happier than i've ever been with you here, especially knowing that you are going to be mine for the rest of my life. somebody will always love you, and i'm that man. i would take a bullet for you, but only in the arm because i don't want it to kill me because i promised i would never leave you alone in this world. i'm yours until the wheels fall off.
i am eighteen years old. by definition, that makes me a legal adult. i can buy cancer sticks, lottery tickets, and porn. i could join the army or even vote for president if i really wanted to, but i couldn't drink for a few more years. i can do all of these things, but that doesn't mean i'm ready to. it doesn't mean that i want to.
i am eighteen years old. i am engaged and i'm going to be a mother come february. many might say that i'm too young for this. they might also say that i'm making a huge mistake that's going to fuck up the rest of my life. i can't say that i don't disagree with them, but i can't say that i agree either. no one knows how my life will pan out. i'm the only person who's in charge of my life - not god, not my family, not my fiancee, not you. maybe i am making a huge mistake, going forward with all of this. maybe not. i don't know if i'm ready to do this. i don't know if i want to.
i am eighteen years old. some days i feel like pulling the trigger and getting all of this shit over with, but i don't. i force myself to move on and go through the motions of pretending i'm okay. this guy named will once wrote that life is a stage and all the men and women are mere actors and actresses. and that's what i am, an actress. i do my part as the fuckup, even though i'm ready to move on. even though i want to move on, but i can't.
i am eighteen years old. i am not happy. i have the fleeting moments of joy when something makes me smile or laugh, but it never stays for long. it's as if i am the sun on a cloudy day. i manage to fight my way out, but when i do the clouds come back and turn the light right back into darkness. i'm getting tired of fighting my way out. i'm ready for this to end. i want this sadness to end.
i am eighteen years old. i have gone through more than my fair share of sorrow. i still hurt from the loss of my older brother. i still ache from the death of a friend. i cannot trust men because of the horrible things my father did to me. i fear being trapped in a relationship because of my former boyfriend. all of these people hurt me. some days i want to hurt others so they know the pain i have been through. i'm ready to tell them about what happened. i want them to know.
i am eighteen years old. i am taylor. this is me.
"i've gone by many names, but i guess that you could say my 'real' name is taylor. one of my feet is bigger than the other by half a size. i envy birds. i like tarot cards and magic shops. i'm lost and i don't want someone to find me."