Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
I don't care what happens to me anymore!
"You need to stop eating before you are able to fit into my pants." that's what my 'great' culinary teacher said...she said she was just joking, but I know that she just said what everyone else already knows. So guess what...I'm done eating. I no longer care who I hurt by it. I am tired of being called fat, and people are saying that I need to do something about it, so I finally fucking am. I don't care about anything anymore. So as of now, I'm done eating. Yes...that's right; Heather is finally going to starve herself thin. Here's to good luck. I will be the girl who will have to wear 00 jeans instead of 14 or 16. I'm not only doing this for myself, but I am finally giving people something pretty to look at. And since none of my friends ever read this, they don't have to know about it. >.< Blah!
What. The. Hell. Man.
George Ranch High school in Richmond, Texas is ten times better than my High School (Terry High School). It looks like fucking HOGWARTS!!!! Makes me want to fail for four years just so I can go there. Man, kids these days get everything!!!
Friday, February 5, 2010
You made me breakfast in bed, when I'm all mixed up in my head.
I got Accepted into Johnson and Wales in DENVER, COLORADO!!! if you want a link to the website to look at the campus here it is: http://www.jwu.edu/campus.aspx?id=25932 It looks kinda like Hogwarts if you ask me. =D
Monday, February 1, 2010
Do you ever feel like breaking down? Do you ever feel out of place? like somehow you just don't belong and no one understands you?
All Is Not What It Seems
Do you ever look at someone and you can instantly tell that they’ve been through more stuff than you can fathom? You want to be able to see what they’ve gone through just by one look, but you already know that will take weeks, if not months of getting to know them. Then there are some people who do wear their past on their arms.
I’m sure you’ve seen these people on the streets, or in the halls of your school. They wear sleeveless shirts only rarely, and are almost always wearing jackets. These people by scientific name are self-injurers, but to most of the population, they are known as cutters. They say the people who take the blade to their skin are suicidal, or are emo kids who try to fit into the fad of having hair in their face, black clothes, and who listen to heavy metal bands and who cut themselves. But you see stereotypes are nothing but the little groups that society puts you into. These people couldn’t be more wrong, people who cut don’t have to always wear black. Look around you. In ever classroom there is one person who has delved into the act of self-injury. They could be the ‘ghetto’ kid in the back of the room with pants to his knees, could be the ‘preppy’ girl in the middle of the room who always comes into class with a skirt on and always seems perfect, or it could always be the ‘nerd’ in the front of the room who always has their nose in a book. People who cut aren’t always suicidal either; they seek it out as more of a pain reliever than as an attempt at suicide.
I, myself, am a cutter. Five months on January 27th. Even though I haven’t done it for five months, and I’m never going to do it again, it’s a part of me, it’s a part of who I am. I have the scars to show the struggles I have gone through. They say that to be ‘emo’ you have to be depressed, but everyone gets depressed, just some people take it to the next level. I am one of them, I know it was a mistake, but I don’t regret it because it’s in the past and I’ve lived through it.
At first glance, you never would think that I was cutting up my arms every night or that I used to do it so badly that I would end up passing out on the floor of the bathroom. Some days I get really strong urges to dig the blades deep into my skin and slice my arm open, but then I think about how far I’ve come without doing it and I begin to wonder why I ever became involved in the practice of self mutilation and about how stupid I was for thinking it was a way out.
People judge people on their mistakes. We say we don’t, but we do. We try hard against it, but in the end, we all…every single person on the planet judge’s others on their mistakes whether they know it or not. I will always be judged by the scars on my arms and wrists, no matter how much I wish I wouldn’t…I always will.
Do you ever look at someone and you can instantly tell that they’ve been through more stuff than you can fathom? You want to be able to see what they’ve gone through just by one look, but you already know that will take weeks, if not months of getting to know them. Then there are some people who do wear their past on their arms.
I’m sure you’ve seen these people on the streets, or in the halls of your school. They wear sleeveless shirts only rarely, and are almost always wearing jackets. These people by scientific name are self-injurers, but to most of the population, they are known as cutters. They say the people who take the blade to their skin are suicidal, or are emo kids who try to fit into the fad of having hair in their face, black clothes, and who listen to heavy metal bands and who cut themselves. But you see stereotypes are nothing but the little groups that society puts you into. These people couldn’t be more wrong, people who cut don’t have to always wear black. Look around you. In ever classroom there is one person who has delved into the act of self-injury. They could be the ‘ghetto’ kid in the back of the room with pants to his knees, could be the ‘preppy’ girl in the middle of the room who always comes into class with a skirt on and always seems perfect, or it could always be the ‘nerd’ in the front of the room who always has their nose in a book. People who cut aren’t always suicidal either; they seek it out as more of a pain reliever than as an attempt at suicide.
I, myself, am a cutter. Five months on January 27th. Even though I haven’t done it for five months, and I’m never going to do it again, it’s a part of me, it’s a part of who I am. I have the scars to show the struggles I have gone through. They say that to be ‘emo’ you have to be depressed, but everyone gets depressed, just some people take it to the next level. I am one of them, I know it was a mistake, but I don’t regret it because it’s in the past and I’ve lived through it.
At first glance, you never would think that I was cutting up my arms every night or that I used to do it so badly that I would end up passing out on the floor of the bathroom. Some days I get really strong urges to dig the blades deep into my skin and slice my arm open, but then I think about how far I’ve come without doing it and I begin to wonder why I ever became involved in the practice of self mutilation and about how stupid I was for thinking it was a way out.
People judge people on their mistakes. We say we don’t, but we do. We try hard against it, but in the end, we all…every single person on the planet judge’s others on their mistakes whether they know it or not. I will always be judged by the scars on my arms and wrists, no matter how much I wish I wouldn’t…I always will.
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