I Heart You

Yes, I get it. I am a very difficult person to understand. 


But for those who do understand me....

And to those who at least make the effort to...


I fucking Love you more than you know.

Dreams

Things below the surface. Unheard. Unseen.
Words left unspoken. Left alone with me.
Yet still able to find you in the midst of all this chaos.
Heads left empty and drained.
Implanted with visions of a near future or a tortured past.
Left feeling unwanted, unimportant, unpretty
When what really mattered always lay beneath, unseen, unscathed, untouched by human hands. As we are not worthy of these dreams.
We are left to wait in peril until our own mind's utopia becomes our imminent reality.
We wait, afraid and trembling with eyes closed and arms stretched out towards our intangible ghosts.
Insomnia eventually gives way to exhaustion and in a dizzying fray, I am gone.

Being a Pretender is really hard work

I guess now I see why people who live double lives tend to become addicted to coke and other vices. It is extremely hard to feel one way, then have to portray yourself as something else. I'm the kind of person who wants everyone around me to be happy, even if that means sacrificing my own feelings. But it's so painful to not be able to just tell everyone how utterly unhappy I am with life. I thought at least money would make things better, but at this point, not really. I try to distract myself, to find those little moments of happiness in artistic and creative things, but those moments, though wonderful, are so short-lived, and within the hour I am back to feeling immensely depressed.
The worst part is, it's starting to take a toll on my friends and family, which I hate. So if you are a friend or family member of mine, please realize, I am not trying to ignore you. In fact, I love you very much. My life is more complicated than anyone could possibly imagine right now. I've been super sick, both mentally and physically. My ulcers came back, due to my own fault, for drinking so god damn much, but it was the only thing at the time that made me feel relatively normal. Also, the doctors put me on Prozac (again), which so far isn't doing much but giving me these horrible headaches all the time.
School isn't going too well either. It is SO fucking hard for me to concentrate in class (just like last semester, but worse). I find myself staring into space contemplating life, or just holding back tears in Biology when we're studying cancer shit. I know my teacher is thinking what the fuck, and some of my classmates have asked me what's wrong, but contrary to popular belief, it's actually quite difficult for me to talk about personal issues, especially when they have become so complex.
My stomach is in constant pain and there are very few foods I can eat without getting incredibly sick every day. I keep barfing all the time and now my body mass index is probably that of a 12 year old girl. I know every woman in the world wants to be ridiculously skinny for some reason, but believe me, it's not fun. Not only do none of my clothes fit properly, but I just feel super embarrassed and body conscious now because of all my ailments and sicknesses :( 
In January, I stopped taking my ulcer medication because I told myself it would be okay if I got sick and died, in fact, I welcomed it. But once I started feeling the intense pain again, I gave in and I'm actually attempting to get medical help. I'm not afraid of death, but I am afraid of pain. It's just a very uncomfortable thing.

Also, I don't know if I should address the "Stacey" situation here or not. Maybe I will in the next blog, if anyone remembers that whole incident that happened a few weeks ago. Bullshit.




~Webpups

Things Could Be Worse...

Ok, I need to get on here and rant about one of the single most ANNOYING pet peeves of mine, and that is when people say, "Well, thing could be worse..."

As in,
"Things could be worse, you could be a starving Ethiopian child."
"Things could be worse, you could have no arms and legs."
"Things could be worse, you could be killed."

THE FUCK?

First of all, the term "worse" is relative.
For example, I personally, would rather be dead than have to deal with my mom being dead. Some people wouldn't. That is relative.
I would rather be a starving person in Africa than have to see my mom suffer. Some people wouldn't. Relative.

Furthermore, that is possibly the WORST way to try to "comfort" someone. Ever.
I don't know what happened to empathy in our country, but it definitely flew out the window if people think that "Things could be worse" is a good comfort food.

So please, just keep that in mind. It's not helpful. In fact, it's very counter-productive.

Kthanks,

-Webpups

Devil Woman

Here's another rant, I guess. I've been wanting to post this for a while, but sometimes things get so hard that I can't even come up with a coherent sentence I want to say. Anyway, let's cut into the milk and cheese of this particular post. -Nonsensical analogy-

Of course, as I trek through my endless cycle of emotions and stages of grief, I seem to be particularly focused on anger. Anger at a number of people and things, but I'm going to focus on one particular, BIG problem that's been royally pissing me off.
There exists a stupid bitch on this planet by the name of Cynthia Banks. Why she exists is anyone's guess. She is the most horrid, vile excuse for a "human being" I have ever encountered. I am 100% sure that she is at least one of the many personified forms of Satan himself. This particular stupid bitch is also the reason for most, if not all, of my psychological problems and overall mental instability. I am writing this blog to point out how utterly unfair life is. The fact that this woman is still alive, and not 6 feet under, while my mom, one of the many people tormented by this she-devil, died a stupid, painful death.
I am not the type of person to wish death on anyone, even my worst enemy, but the fact that "karma" has not caught up with this ciniving whore is beyond me, and really makes me wish that she would get her come-uppance. Allow me to elaborate:

This is the home-wrecking bitch that thought it was okay to infiltrate my parent's marriage when I was 11, and ultimately cause the end of it.
The bitch that made my dad leave and move with her to Texas.
The bitch that came to my 8th grade graduation like she belonged, and told me I couldn't wear the dress that I wanted because it was "too revealing" (OMG, my shoulders were showing, alert the fucking press!)
The bitch who lied to my dad saying that her daughter was his, just so that he would move to Texas and away from us. (Note: the girl looks NOTHING like him, or anyone in our family).
The bitch who eventually became my (I use this word VERY loosely) "step-mother" whom I ended up having to coexist with in Texas for almost a year.
The bitch who pushed her pseuo-Christianity onto EVERYONE around her, while not looking in the mirror to see what a sad excuse for a Sinner she really was.
The bitch who endlessly tormented me, just because she was jealous of me and my dad's relationship.
The bitch who called me a slut and a dyke when I was only 13 and had only kissed one boy in my whole life.
The bitch who THREW AWAY my clothes and music from my 'pop punk' days because she said they were "of the Devil" (at least give the clothes away to charity you dumb bitch).
The bitch who choked me in a CD store because I wanted to get a Blink-182 and Sum 41 CD, but she  said I couldn't because they "look weird".
The bitch who literally called my high school (in Texas) to get certain books and jewelry banned because they were again, "of the Devil".
The bitch who told my coach to take me off the volleyball team (one of the few things that brought my life joy there) because she thought I was skipping practice, when I explained to her that I had cramps and missed maybe 2 practices that whole year.
The jealous and vindictive bitch that did a slew of many other things, that even I feel like I can't post here...

There are so many situations in my life that I feel like I have not gotten the proper closure, and this is one of them. She never apologized for her evil ways, she never felt remorse for being a home wrecker. She ruined the relationship with me and my dad, which to this day is not rekindled and I don't know if it ever will be. I just don't understand how people can be so cold and heartless and just oblivious to the suffering of others...
Anyway, it feels good to finally get this off my chest and put it out there. I've been holding back for over 8 years and now that I don't give a fuck, it's time to start exposing the world for what it is. Sick.

-Webpups

Rant

The Saddest Part Is That No One Knows How Unhappy I Really Am...

I hate feeling so ungrateful and so negative all of the time.  I hate that I'm even writing in here right now because I usually like to have a clear and precise concept to talk about, but I really feel the need to vent. WHY was this week so hard for me? I had so many exciting opportunities come up, but I can't be happy about any of them. I know I should give myself a break; I have a pretty damn good reason to be upset, but to have such a low feeling inside of me all the time is not only irritating, but downright debilitating. I spent the greater part of today crying in the bathroom of my college. The second I'm alone, all the emotions and feelings start flooding back to me and I just get overwhelmed. Which is really unfortunate because I can't be around people ALL the time, nor would I want to, but that's just my reality. My dreams are still vivid, intense and creepy. I wish they were more like how they were earlier in January. At least in those dreams, my mom was more of an ethereal, yet realistic person and it was actually like I was with her in real time. Now, in my dreams I am confused when I see my mom, because I can't decide if she's really alive or not, then I wake up and of course, realize she's still dead... No one should have to go through something like that; I'm already suffering enough, then I have a whole neurological experience to deal with, which is really too complex to even put into words or writing (no one would understand anyway, except maybe crazy people). I would like to think that most of the random intense emotions were just due to the fact that I was on the rag this week, but I don't know. I try to be one of those people who makes the most of a situation and is able to laugh and joke about life's unfairness, but again, this feels to me like such an unrecoverable thing. And I hate the fact that everyone seems to think that I will get over it, because I won't. Ever. I just wish there was a way to let people know how I feel without sounding needy...it's just hard to put into words how I'm feeling at any given time so I just stutter and stammer and eventually the subject gets changed. I wish the person that I trusted to be there for me would actually be there for me and stop being so distant. I wish a lot of things, but I've learned recently that wishing, hoping, praying and all that jazz is worth SQUAT. If something is going to happen, it's just going to happen and that's the end of it. It would just be nice if my happiness didn't have to be constantly on the line....


Fuck. Shit. Piss.


-Webpups

Waiting

It won't be long now.
I pretty much know I will be hospitalized at some point this year. I don't know when. And I was hoping that it would at least be after I graduate college, but I really can't say for sure. I can't predict when my ultimate meltdown is going to occur, but it will. The bottom line is I don't feel sane in any way, shape, or form.
When waking up in the morning is the hardest part of your day, you know you have a problem. Every time I wake up, I snap back into "reality" and the realization of how horrible my life is. Some days I literally cannot get out of bed. Some days, I painfully awaken and go about my day with all of my joints, muscles and ribs hurting. To my slight relief, the counselors told me that these physical pains are actually a part of grief. Your immune system shuts down and your body believes that it is physically sick when you are grieving, which is why I've been feeling horribly lethargic. I say I was only slightly relieved because I know the grief process can take years, and living with this kind of physical pain is 'no bueno'.
Anyway, in regards to my sanity...Nothing feels real to me. This has actually been happening to me on and off for about a year, but now, it's almost as if it's confirmed that life isn't real at all. I feel like I'm in an alternate universe...more specifically, a Hell or purgatory type place with other people who are being punished. I know it sounds crazy, but every time I would get high, I would feel this same phenomenon and it was NOT pleasant, which is why I stopped. But now, I'm stuck. For however long my life goes on, I'm stuck with these "unreal" feelings. Sometimes, I literally cannot differentiate between dreaming and reality. My dreams are so vivid, and actually feel more like reality than reality does. Like on Sunday...I was crying literally ALL day because I was sad, and felt like I was stuck inside a bad dream, but apparently I was awake.
I HATE being sober. I absolutely Hate it.
Nowadays I feel more myself when drinking than when not. Now I'm this boring-ass shell of a person with no emotions except those felt towards my loss, but when I drink, I feel more like the person that I used to be. Fun, and "Happy".
But I wrote this entry mainly to talk about institutionalization. I know how the whole deal works, I've gone through it before as a minor, but I guess a part of me is afraid to go back into the system as an adult. I'm not ashamed at all, because I know I need that extra help, it's just difficult to get back into a system of such stigmatized and wrongly judged mentally ill people... especially when society seems to tell us that you have to be a crackhead with missing teeth to be "eligible" for mental health help. But hey, it happens to every day people too...This crudely formatted diagram should help explain what I mean:

                                                  How My Friends See Me

 
                                                 How the Men-folk See Me

                                                          How I See Myself

-Webpups
[Just because you don't see my pain, doesn't mean it's not there]

I'm Scared.

I'm scared.
Scared to go to bed at night because I know the night terrors could randomly come back at any time.
Scared to wake up in the morning because that's when the depression is the worst, due to the realization that I am once again conscious, and living in the same sick and depressing state that I went to bed to.
But mostly I am scared of assimilating back into society. Going back to school, finding another job etc....
I'm scared of going back to L.A...In such a fast paced environment, I know I am going to be mentally and emotionally 'run over' and left in the dust. There's no time for mourning in L.A. Just like there's no crying in football.
Especially considering that I am trying to become a famous actress and all that jazz...it would really require me getting right on the grind, going back to memorizing lines, calling hella numbers, getting to auditions...I just don't know if I can do that right now...
School may be a BIT easier, because at least I'll be surrounded by intellectuals, for the most part. [Man, nothing grinds my gears more than ignorant people, and they exist in college too]. But yes, I only have class 2 days out of the week this semester, and a lab on Fridays, I think I can manage.
I'm more concerned about the more specific social aspects of integrating back into society. Such as speech, behavior, acceptance... Which is weird, because this whole ordeal has led me to virtually not give a FUCK about anything, but for some reason, thinking about returning to L.A. really bothers me.
I have changed.
My attitude, my way of life, my sleep habits, even the way I dress has been dramatically altered by this life-changing experience [I think I now look like a lesbian biker if you ask me]. Hell, if cigarettes didn't disgust the fuck out of me, I'd probably turn into one of those girls on Tumblr who takes black and white nudey photos of herself smoking.

Yeah, I've turned into THOSE types. The overly [mentally] introverted and philosophical wino kids you see hanging out in Berkeley, wearing rags for clothing. I don't smile very much anymore...or laugh, unless I am with a very specific group of people. And I know that L.A. is the "you must smile and appear mentally stable at all times" capital of the world, so it frightens me that I may be involuntarily forced to be fake, or to "cheer up" to make other people happy. To be honest, I wish people would stop expecting me to be OK, because frankly, I'm not OK, and I won't be OK. That's just the way it is.
I am growing accustomed to the person that I have become. I told myself a few months ago that if my mom died, I would probably become a super shitty person. Probably strung out in the street on drugs or something. Well, it's obviously not at that point, nor do I think I'm a SHITTY person, per se. But I will admit that I have become a bit selfish, squeezing the little taste of joy I can get out of life, without necessarily thinking [or caring] about the consequences. I have begun treating the world the way I feel that it has treated me, and thus far, for the most part, it has worked to my advantage and kept me afloat in situations where I would have otherwise whined like a little bitch. Speaking of bitch, to be blunt, you could say that I've become one. But then again, I've always been kind of a bitch. Not like the rude, ignorant kind of bitch, but like a Regina George bitch. The kind of bitch you want to have around because she makes funny comments about ratchet hoes. But then again, that's probably just because I'm from Nor Cal and that blunt mentality has been ingrained in me. Anywho, I've also become a more "grungy" person, in the sense that I wake up at like 2pm, do nothing until like 9, then go out and get fucking trashed at the bars. To be fair, that is partially due to the fact that I just turned 21, but I am clearly drinking copious amounts of alcohol for a reason.
Lastly, I am scared to love.
Everyone I have ever truly loved has left me at some point, whether voluntarily or involuntarily. My mom's gone, my dad bailed when I was 11 (then came back when I was almost 18, wtf) and almost every boyfriend I've ever had has been long distance or moved away. My doggy Max is about 13 years old now, and I am going to be absolutely devastated when the time comes for him to go, though I know it's a more natural process than everything else that's been happening in my life. I just don't do too well with change. I'm terrified to get super close to anyone because I know the second I begin to love them, they will be gone in a flash, happens every time. But don't get me wrong, I am not bitter about being single or anything like that. Having a boyfriend would significantly stifle my style and the new 'baddassery' that I am going for. It just kind of sucks that no one's gonna want me now because I'm a broken little girl with daddy issues and problems for days. "Damaged goods" to quote a previous asshole.

-Webpups

[Totes didn't mean to post this on Valentine's Day. Just kind of happened. Deal.] 

Mediocre Introduction

Mediocre Introduction: 
For the sake of this blog, I will go by the name of Webpups, another story in itself.
I am a notoriously zealous Disney fanatic as well as wannabe actress, model, blablabla.
That side of me is not really relevant for this blog.

Why I created this blog:
A year ago I was probably the most anti-multiple-social-networking-accounts person ever.
Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr...it's all too much to keep up with. But then I realized that these different sites exist for different mediums of communication and different "moods", if that makes sense. I say things on Twitter that I wouldn't necessarily say on Facebook, and vice versa. My attempt at forming a creative internet outlet for myself started late 2011 when I created a Tumblr account, but that site was NOT what I expected. I thought it was more of a blogging site, but it's really more of a photo-sharing (sometimes inspirational) website. That is NOT what I was looking for at the time, so I ended up giving up on that endeavor and just making it into a Disney fan page.
I created this blog so I can really get into the "nitty gritty". This blog is going to expose a side of me that not many people have seen, or wish to see. For the most part, it's not going to be pretty, but it IS going to be REAL.
It's time that people saw the real me; not that the happy, Disney loving side isn't still me. But it's only a PART. People have layers, and often friends and family (and even strangers) are too afraid to delve deeper and see the layers that are under a person's happy exterior. Or in some cases, see them, but won't accept them.
I am at a place in my life where I just don't give a fuck anymore. In the past year, I've really had a new perception of what matters in life, and also, the significance of life itself. This blog is mainly meant to address topics that are serious to me including religion, mental health, depression, suicide, life, death, drugs, alcohol and anything else that people are too afraid to talk about. I will also, obviously include my newer opinions on life following the death of my mom 3 weeks ago.

Goal:
I'm not expecting any particular response to my blogs, or any particular reaction/emotion. I don't expect sympathy. I don't want attention. I'm just here to put some truth and realism out there and hopefully allow people to have a more clear understanding of what I have been going through since I was 11 years old, and what countless other people go through every day. This isn't a diary/journal, I have one of those and it's a much different format. This is me putting my words and thoughts into a form that, hopefully, other readers can palate. But if you don't like my blogs, don't read them. I don't need cynicism, which is why I created this site instead of posting these serious thoughts in a Facebook note. People don't tend to take Facebook very seriously when it comes to intelligent conversation...

Anywho, that is my introduction. I am sure within the coming weeks I will have some tantalizing, thought provoking and pessimistic content for whomever wishes to partake in it.

-Webpups
(The Mythical Creature)