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They’re just words

Words words fucking words. You would think they would be easy, simple in fact, but nope. When you have 14 tabs open, the static is so thick that when you attempt to speak it’s gibberish, and you sound like you just played a game of telephone while drinking a bottle of tequila. So yeah there’s that.

I’ve lost my damn words. POOF!! Into the atomsphere they’ve gone…just floating into space somewhere…

I try to make since of them, but it’s like reading the alphabet backwards while at the same time patting your belly with one hand and making circles on top of your head with the other. I feel completely lost without my words. All I know are words. I write nonstop, but here’s the thing…the shit I’ve been writing is just that, SHIT. Smelly shit that is sitting in a paper bag on fire sitting on a front porch waiting to be stepped on. I am allowed to say this, because they are my words.

When I go back and read this shit I realize I am being careful, so careful that it’s like I am tip toeing my way around so as not to hurt people or upset them. BUT what I am forgetting is it’s my writing, my words are written for me. For what I am going through, for the bullshit I need to vent about, or just the crap I want to say because I want too or need too. I love that others enjoy what I write and those that follow my blog know that it’s raw, that I don’t edit my writing, that it’s my journal in a way, and I love that everyone respects that.

Now I need to stop being careful, stop walking on eggshells, or whatever the fuck it is I am doing, and get back to me. Get back to my normal. If I need to travel down the rabbit hole to find my way back I fucking will. I am over this shit. My fear or whatever needs to seriously take a trip into the fuck it bucket and be flushed down the toilet.

Until next time…Sunshine, Sparkles, and Mother Fucking Unicorn Poop my peeps!!

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2018

When they tell you to prepare your family for your death it’s difficult to wrap your head around what you were just told. How do you process that? How are you supposed to tell them? Do you tell your kids? Everyone already knew I wasn’t in a healthy state, but fuck. I was wasting away in front of their eyes daily. Rail thin. A walking zombie, trying to be full of life, always in a constant state of pain. In and out of the doctors, it seemed like it was weekly, between the several doctors I was seeing, the lab work…I still have the marks from all the needles they stuck in my arms.

Even as a stubborn black hearted bitch I started living in a different way. I lived free. I lived like it was always my last day. I made sure to laugh every day. To make everyone smile every day. To be the sunshine and sparkles in everyone’s life that I was apart of. I learned to love myself, my life, to be happy with what I had, to appreciate every day.

I started taking more pictures of everything. My kids, my family, the world through my eyes; I wanted to leave behind memories from my perspective for my children. I took more selfies for them. People probably thought I was a self-absorbed bitch, but I didn’t care, they didn’t know my story and they weren’t going too until I was ready to tell it.

My clothes were so baggy on me, but why spend the money to buy more? I just started wearing leggings more. If I wore jean’s they looked gross on me. I tried to eat more protein to gain weight, but it didn’t matter. I could eat whatever I wanted and I just kept losing more weight, it was horrible. It got so bad I was lucky if I weighed 100 pounds soaking wet. I knew everyone around me was worried, hell I was worried, but I couldn’t show it. I had to just keep smiling, keep living.

There would be days where I would cry all day at my desk. Some of the deputies would message me asking if I was okay, they could hear the pain, the tears in my voice. I just passed it off as a migraine. I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me. I didn’t need them to know, didn’t want them to know the truth. I just kept hiding.

When I finally had an answer, it was relief. I could breathe again. Or so I thought. One autoimmune disease means there’s another. My life has changed. But that doesn’t mean I am not the same damn sunshine and sparkly unicorn poop bitch everyone has grown to love. I am still here. I just have illnesses that unfortunately rule some of my days. I just try not to let them wear the crown every day, just some days.

Lately, they have been winning, but fuck them. They need to chill the fuck out.

Sunshine, sparkles, and mother fucking unicorn poop!!

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smelly shit

Liars. We have all come across them and chances are we have probably told a lie or two; especially as teenagers…But when do you stop lying to yourself and others? One would think when you grow up, but that isn’t always true. When you are okay with lying or acting like you didn’t hear what someone said, you cannot get upset with the consequences. And why lie when you know you were caught? It makes no sense to me. Lying makes a person question everything you have ever told them.

Was it that difficult? To actually hear every word I fucking said? I guess it was, because only half of what I said was heard, and the sad part is, that part of what was heard, wasn’t even the part that I was trying to get across.

I hate when I get so angry, so frustrated, that my words become a tangled mess and what I am trying to say comes out completely wrong. It sucks big donkey balls. Like why? Why can’t I just be like “look blah blah blah” and it actually just be the words, the point I am trying to make instead of all the smelly shit that is plugging me up?

I will tell you why. Because if it was actually all the smelly shit then my life would be simple and why on earth would my life be simple? It can’t. If my life was simple, I would have nothing to write about. I seriously have my smelly shit life to thank for my writing. YAY! My shit is my cheerleader, it keeps spewing out so I can keep going….

Guess that means everyone who enjoys my writing can also thank my smelly shit. Let’s all thank it together…ready…,” Thank you smelly shit!!” ugh…okay no seriously, though, my life is the contributor to my blog, my poems, it all.

Let me get back on track here, now that we got the thank you out the of way. Okay, so as I was saying, I can never just have one point when I am trying to say what is frustrating me. I seem to always have several different points. Instead of saying one and then talking about it I just keep rambling. You’re probably thinking, “no surprise, just look at your writing”. Okay, yes, I know 14 tabs always. BUT it gets fucking annoying when I really need to get my point across or heard and it comes out with millions of others.

My problem, besides having all these tabs always open, is the simple fact that I bottle everything up. I can’t just spew word vomit the second something is bugging me and because of this it all comes out at once. I have been trying to work on it. I was getting really good at it for a while and then I am not sure what the fuck happened. It is like I lost my mojo for word vomit. I am not even sure how that happens to a person like me, since I am words. Maybe its fear. Yeah, lets go with fear.

Why fear? Simple. I am afraid of pushing people away. I keep my circle small and those that know and love me don’t mind when I explode and go off on my smelly shit word vomits, but when I bottle shit up it’s because I fear that what I need to say might get taken the wrong way and I have to make sure I put the words in an order that won’t hurt feelings or get mixed up and said in a way I didn’t mean for them to be said.

Should it matter if I hurt others even if they hurt me? Ummm yes!! I am not the type of person who likes to hurt others. I’m not the type to bend people over and make them take whatever I give them. Can I be mean? Can’t everyone? That doesn’t mean I purposely hurt others.

So anyways, I was venting, spewing shit, and it all came out as this ball of camel spit. If I could have hit myself in the eye with it…fuck it was all such a mess. Nothing was said how I had planned in my head. NOTHING!! And the best part…well the fact that what I said was extremely important and only half of it was responded too, yeah that was awesomesauce…NOT!!!

Like how could you take the part that was the least important and respond? Because that meant no confrontation? Such fucking bullshit. I can’t stand that. Have some balls people. I legit said what I had been holding in for months, waiting, waiting for the truth, and I just kept waiting like a damn fool. I couldn’t wait any longer and that’s when this nasty mess happened. And instead of responded to the part I held in for so long, I had to ask myself later if I had even made mention. I went over it all again…yup I did. But it didn’t matter.

When do you know their shit stinks? When you can’t tell the difference between yours and theirs. I had this dilemma. Do I say something or let it go?

I flushed the fucking toilet.

If I hadn’t, I would have driven myself insane. Not gonna lie I did drive myself insane for some time before I let it go. I had a decision to make. I didn’t want my shit to keep smelling. If they want theirs too, well that’s on them. I couldn’t let it get to me anymore. Afterall, I had made a choice to let things go.

It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t know what else to do. I am sure there will be plenty of more times that I will need to flush the toilet, because let’s be real, everyone has smelly shit from time to time.

The smelly shit I hate the most is the lies. If you want to lie to someone, remember karma is a bitch, and remember who you decide to lie too. You shouldn’t be lying at all. What kind of person are you if you think it is okay to lie? I certainly don’t want those type of people in my life. Since I flushed the toilet…adios…

Standing on the toilet seat watching it drain, not waving, not saying goodbye, because in the end making the decision to lie was goodbye. We all make our choices. We are all responsible for what we do. A lie told is a decision, the more one lies, the bigger the web grows, can they even remember the truth? Getting caught in their web as a victim allows them to keep lying, unless you know the truth, and you question everything – then the web falls apart and they grow weak. Weakness makes them flush the toilet on their own.

My smelly shit might be a mess, but at least I can say it’s honest. Now I just need to get over my fear.

Sunshine, sparkles, and mother fuckin’ unicorn poop.

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watching through the window

Ever feel like a fifth wheel abandoned in a desert with its windows knocked out? And you’re sitting there watching life pass you by through the broken glass, the edge’s sharp; be careful not to reach out you might cut yourself. You just sit there watching wondering if this is supposed to be life; a movie like perspective. All, well most of my life I have felt like this; like I am strolling along in a movie just watching different scenes. I tend to keep my mouth shut, I stay silent, more often than not. My word vomit is usually ugly or so I think, because I just say what is on my mind, and most of the time it doesn’t seem to fit the script of the current scene.

I am a stubborn person. Have you ever been in such a stubborn state of mind, that stubbornness where you refuse to put fucking sunblock on and the sunbeams are radiating down on you like a fucking spotlight, “we see you and your moody bullshit”? Then BOOM only half your leg is burnt. You have a crispy leg that you didn’t order, it hurts worse than a bitchslap, and then it tans (thank you to my genes)…then you look like a half-eaten dunked Oreo. WTF…

UGH! And okay here comes my word vomit…it always seems to come out at the wrong damn time. Like I said above, I feel like I am in a movie most times, I try to bite my tongue especially because the timing is probably bad, and because I have been told I am too forward…I personally don’t see the issue with this. I would rather someone be forward with me, than beat around the damn bush. If tears fall just hand me the box of tissues. I got my big girl panties on. Okay, okay…my word vomit well once I get going it flows like hot lava flows from your ass after you eat Taco Bell.

You know what I seriously dislike, maybe even hate, and hate is a strong word, because it takes a whole lot to make me hate something. Liars. Assholes. Especially asshole liars…liars spew lies which are worse than the hot lava Taco Bell causes. Nobody likes a fucking lair. But you gotta love when lairs think they are fooling everyone. No no, whatever pet or nick name you want to insert here, you just think you are. Take a closer look in the mirror or at your next selfie, we can all see through your bullshit. Only a bullshitter can’t see beyond their shit in the toilet. Nasty nasty. Clean that up. Do us all a favor and stop trying to feed it to us. We can see it, smell it, and we don’t fuck want it. Remember nobody likes a fucking asshole liar, or just a liar, so be fucking NICE and be HONEST!!

Also, if in life you no longer want to be someone’s friend, just stop acting like you give a shit; here’s my fucking word vomit…seriously. Stop secretly acting like you care, when you actually don’t, because if you did you would reach out. Remember that thing you have in your hand nonstop, yeah, it is called a phone, its used for more than social fucking media…it works both ways, I know it does. But I can only reach out so many times before I throw in the fuck it towel, because my fuck it towel is WORN THE FUCK OUT. Yup, I said it. HOT FUCKIN’ LAVA…oh fucking well.

I clean up well. My feelings have been run over time and time again. I decided a while ago quality over quantity and it was the best decision I could have ever made. Adults work through shit, they communicate. I can’t keep biting my tongue when I feel like my words don’t fit the script. I am the author of my own story and if I keep holding back, I am never going to be happy the way I deserve to be happy. So, word vomit, spewing out like I am not afraid anymore, like I dance, I am not afraid who see’s me dancing, so why should I be afraid to use my voice in the same way? I shouldn’t. I have shut my voice down over and over again. I can’t anymore. I won’t.

I am not going to just bend over and bite my tongue anymore. I am going to put a smile on my face, because I shouldn’t have to pretend to be okay with what is being decided for me. I am not a tumble weed rolling by a broken down fifth wheel with a lost little girl looking out the broken window needing a toilet for the Taco Bell that is about to run down her leg. I am not going to be that leftover McDonald’s that has been left in a car all day and attempted to be revived but the CPR failed…nope that is not me. I am a fighter. I am.

Sunshine, sparkles, and mother fucking unicorn poop.

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her hell

I like to make people laugh, make their bad day better, put a smile on their face, and just over all be the sunshine and sparkles rather than the darkness and evil. But, right now I feel broken. I am in a dark place. I am lost. I feel like I was locked in a dark damp basement with no way out. The air is so thick I can’t breathe. It weighs me down. Makes my chest heavy, my body fatigued, and makes me feel ill.

My heart pounds as though it is trying to fight its way out of my chest. I swear if it had arms it would have ripped my rib cage apart by now. The knife in my back turns and twists like a wind-up toy as the room dances around me. I fall, but thankfully the wall catches me. The tears slide down my cheeks as I wonder how much longer I am trapped in this darkness. This maze with walls I can’t climb to see the way out.

Dependent. When I was in diapers. When I was a juvenile defying my parents. NOW.

My world has turned upside down once again. I am lost. So. Fucking. Lost. I hate depending on others. I am the chick that buys her own fucking flowers, who isn’t afraid to dance alone, who is the sunshine and sparkles for others, who is the positivity, and here I am not able to even fucking shower unless someone is home!!! I am screaming, crying on the inside. This air is so thick it weighs me down into a hell I haven’t been in, in a very long time.

As the weeks pass and my darkness only grows, I keep trying to find the light, the positive, because after all that is what I do. That is who I am. I do my research to find the light. To look at the bright side. To remind myself that this is not the end. This is just a new beginning. A new start. I might have to do things differently, I might have to plan ahead, and take more time. But I can’t let this define me.

I am determined to climb out of this dark damp basement. To fill my lungs without pain, to remove the knife, to put my heart back in its place, and to stop the world spinning around me. I know that I have a long road ahead of me, but I have overcome such darkness before and I will again. I may have challenges that lie in my way, but I have to remind myself that I am strong, that I can do this, that I have an amazing support system. I also have to remember some of the best advice I was given in December 2015 by a wise man; “adapt and overcome”. Those words have gotten me through a lot since December 2015.

So, maybe I am lost right now, not feeling my sunshine, sparkles, and let’s not forget the mother fucking unicorn poop, but I am going through a shit ton right now. Being home for five weeks (and who fucking knows how much longer), under what feels like lock and key, dependent on everyone, because you are so very ill, well who wouldn’t fucking feel lost, sad, depressed? AND you know what?!? I am fucking allowed to feel like this. I am allowed to be fucking scared. I am allowed to be angry. Frustrated. I can feel like I want to scream, cry, only want to eat ice cream and sushi… I am the only one who knows what my body feels like and it is SO SO SO FUCKING difficult to explain it. I want to feel like ME again. To feel like the Heather everyone knows and loves, but guess what, right now she’s not here. She is gone. She is in this basement. This basement she calls Hell.

As I sit here writing this, debating whether to post this, I remind myself people know you had the rona pneumonia, and in life there are always lessons if you pay attention. You learned a major one within the last year; I haven’t gone anywhere. I always post my blogs on my Facebook page so this one and the poem I wrote before this will not be any different. Thank you to all who have been there day after dark day. My boyfriend, my kids, my family, #6 & his girl, my bestie (yellow power ranger), my co-workers (cc/vegas), and my Cornhole family.

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fragile

She was breaking,

Fragile as a grenade.

Tears fell down her dry cheeks,

Loud sobs nobody heard,

As she showered,

Burning her skin in the water hotter than hell.

Supervised…

Right.

Everyone downstairs,

Can’t hear her cries of pain.

Biting her lip,

Holding in the screams.

Waking up with blood on her lip.

Dreams,

Are they just a sad as she feels?

For the fog is dense,

Recalling them is difficult.

She sits alone,

Day after day.

Coloring,

Shows of randomness,

Paint the background.

Puzzles make the mind work.

Lies,

She’s okay,

But is she?

For she is the only one who truly knows the pain.

Can anyone see?

Are they paying attention?

Maybe they are bored of hearing the same shit on repeat…

Lessons have been learned.

She floats above herself,

Her heart pounds within her chest as the room spins,

Intoxicated,

But she’s not.

Broken,

She is not.

Drowning,

She is not.

What is this?

Death?

Nope, she won’t allow it.

Illness,

Yes, but fuck.

Hidden,

She hides.

Oh, does she fucking hide.

Bursting at the seams.

Fragile as a grenade.

Biting her lip,

The blood streams into her mouth,

Holding in the scream,

Tears fall,

The hot water turning her delicate skin pink.

Stepping her wet foot on the mat,

Falling into the wall,

Sliding to the floor,

Spinning,

She floats towards the ceiling,

Her heart pounded outside her chest.

Scared.

She’s fucking scared.

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twirl in my chair

Lack of sleep makes me worse than I am when I am a hangry bitch. I am awful to be around. I am moody, emotional, cry for no reason, overthink (and think the worse shit), fuck it’s like I am a 15-year-old teenage girl about to start my period in need of some damn chocolate. Thankfully I have some amazing ass people in my life who set me straight, let me know when I am overreacting, and when I should just smack myself for being stupid. Lol. It’s good to have people like that. I can literally say anything and there’s no judgement. I mean I am going to say whatever I want to everyone, because it’s who I am and let’s face it, I really don’t give a shit who likes me or who hates me. I am who I am and will not change for anyone. Love me for me or move the fuck over and out of my life.

Okay, so back to this lack of sleep nonsense bullshit that makes me a cranky fucker. I switched jobs months ago and I have had to learn how to slow down. This has been a struggle in itself. As a 911 dispatcher I pretty much had ADHD and now as an admin assistant I twirl in my chair 80% of the day…lol. Especially now that we have started to fill the empty positions. I AM GOING INSANE!!! Sooo. Fucking. Bored. And to help with my ADHD issue I listen to true crime podcasts or music while answering the phone and handling my little bits of work…..

SOOOO….the other day as I am fucking twirling in my chair choking myself to death with my headphone cord I was asked if I was bored most of the day…(mind you I couldn’t touch any of the things that needed to be completed because I printed them and per policy another co-worker has to finish them)….my eyes about pop out of my fucking head and I so ever sarcastically answered with, “yes, because I have had nothing to do all day” AND since I can’t drown myself in tequila at work I put my fucking face condom on and walking my happy little ass over to the dark side and stuffed my face with left over Halloween candy while I joined in the fun conversations on the dark side of the building.

For Christmas I might need a padded room, straight jacket, and a pillow to yell into. But since I can’t sleep maybe I need a new pillow to help me sleep better…or idk my mind to be busy busy, but not 15-year-old PMS teenage emotional busy. I need adult busy, work busy. UGH…life could be worse, right? Right. I made my choice to leave a job I loved for a family I loved more, because I decided to make a life, not a living. I have definitely had my moments of “what did I do?”, but the memories I have created with my family since making this decision…priceless.

Yes, I may lack sleep, be a cranky overthinking fucking bitch, but in my heart, I know I made the right decision. Even if I have my moments of needing a padded room, stuffing my face with candy, and questioning my decision. But I sit here writing this knowing it’s all worth it, especially when I see the smiles on the faces of those I love when we are making memories, sharing stories from our days, hearing the laughs, and just sitting together in the living room.

I am making a life. Day by day. Memory by memory. Twirl by twirl. Sunshine and mother fucking sparkles.

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Opening my window

I have been reflecting a lot lately. About many different things in my life. I have to constantly remind myself that things happen for a reason, most the time we have not a clue what those reasons are, but we keep moving forward whether it is with our heads held high or with them lowered to hide our eyes that show everything. I don’t know about you, but my eyes are like windows to my soul, my thoughts, my everything. My eyes literally are not my best friends. I can’t hide jack shit behind them. Even if I tried to hide my emotions across my face, my eyes be telling the truth….fuckers. They might be beautiful, but they don’t let me get away with shit!!

Maybe it is a good thing that I can’t hide my emotions, but there are times when I would really like too. I have noticed a difference in the way I am feeling though now that I don’t hold everything in until I explode like a shaken soda bottle. That is one thing I am thankful for. I used to hold everything in until I was boiling under the surface and then BOOM!!!! ugh it was ugly. Ugly tears, ugly emotion, ugly everything. But that is what happens when you have to hold it in, because you aren’t allowed to express yourself.

And now, well now I am able to express myself, all of myself. Sometimes I think that is a bad thing, until I share my spinning thoughts, and I am reminded it isn’t a bad thing to share how I am feeling. It is an amazing thing, for not only me, but for all those around me, for those that love me. I am still learning how to open up immediately instead of holding on for hours, a day, or longer, but I am getting much better. AND telling someone that loves me to push me, but to be gentle, makes all the difference.

So, there I go again getting off track, but whatever. By now you are all used too it. And if you aren’t you should be…lol… Ok so I have been reflecting right? On myself first and foremost, but also about my surroundings, things that actually affect me personally, and what is it exactly about that thing that makes me emotional or changes my mood in a flat second. I want to be aware of; is it me? Or is it something else? I keep saying I am broken, because I feel broken, like something is wrong with me, but reality, I am not broken, I have lived to make others happy so that I do not disrupt my environment for such a long time that it is all I know. And several years ago, I promised myself and my loved ones I would live each day as if tomorrow wasn’t promised. BUT then roughly a year ago I slipped back into old habits, because again, survival; don’t disrupt the environment.

Guess fucking what??? As I was reflecting the other day, I realized I am loved for who I am!!! Which yes, I have known, but when you have been broken down time and time again you often forget this. I was reminded of this during a conversation, an act, and being in his arms. I am not only loved by him, my children, but by so many, and they all love me for me, for my sunshine and sparkles, for my sailor mouth, for my humor, for being there for them, showing I care, I could go on and on.

I keep my circle small for a reason. I know who my true friends are. I know because they are the ones who love me, who don’t just say they do, and then use me. My circle is small because they have shown me in many ways I can trust them and no matter what they will always be there for me and I for them. I don’t need 400 plus friends on Facebook, because I guarantee you when I had that many the majority of them weren’t really my friends, they were just spy’s or wanted to feel important by having their friend number high. My list gets smaller, someone might get added, but I know that those on my list I can trust. When you are older you start to understand and begin to realize what is the most important. Some people mature and make mature decisions in life and others do not grow and instead make immature decisions and lose everything they wish they still had.

Life is full of choices. Choices we all make for ourselves. Choices we try to blame on others when things don’t go our way, but let’s face reality, we all know right from wrong. So, when we face a choice where we could lose it all and we choose wrong…you honestly have nobody to blame but your fucking self…grow up, own your choices, and face yourself in the mirror every day after, because you are the one the has to live with the consequences.

So, reflecting. My attitude, the way I live each day, how I respond to situations, that is all up to me, nobody else. I have noticed when my attitude gets gloomily and when I get salty. I see a pattern. Can I blame others? Maybe, but would that be fair to them? Hell fucking no. Why? Because if I haven’t been adult enough to have a conversation with them on why I got upset or salty, pissed off or walked away, that isn’t on them…it’s on me, because I did not speak up first. Sure, it would be easy to point the finger, but seriously where the fuck is that going to get me? Ummm, fucking nowhere.

When I am living life to its fullest, I also notice. When you pay attention and stop pointing the finger you really start to see the whole picture and not just the pieces that are in focus from a selfish point of view. I thought I allowed my walls to fall around me, my moat to be free of predators, but I was wrong.

My walls were down when I decided to live to the fullest years ago, then I put them back up. When I thought I let them down again I was wrong, so wrong. One of my bitches told me the other day “my walls might be down, the blinds might be open, but I haven’t opened the window yet”…well shit. More reflecting after this as you can imagine…

Reflections, choices, and life. All amazing combinations when you get the right lock and key, but until then the chain is a horrible mess of a knot, until you are ready to face the reality that you can either constantly be terrified of the negatives that might happen or live facing the sunshine glowing in the radiant positivity of what could go right.

Sunshine and mother fuckin’ sparkles…

once upon a time…i was broken

It was our last night of freedom as we all called it. The last night of our childhood. This was it, this was the night before our whole world changed. Little did I know my world would never be the same after this.

I was 19. I knew what my future was going to look like. I had it all planned out. I was leaving home, joining the military, I was going to make a career, a life for myself. So, I thought. But this chapter of my life did not go as I had planned. The world had a different plan for me. A plan I struggled to understand for a long time.

My last night of “freedom” had never tasted so good. The jack and coke mix had me buzzing. I felt relaxed. This was a nice feeling, especially since my nerves were overloaded with all different emotions; excitement, scared, nervous, etc.

I remember a large group of us hanging out, being silly, laughter filling the air as we chitchatted amongst one another asking where we headed, what we were planning to do with our future careers in the military, but then the air changed. Soon the crowd was much smaller, and I was no longer outside…

It was dark. I could see some light shining in by the window. This light gave me enough to see that I was in a room, but not my room. I felt weak. I could not breathe. I saw someone in the next bed over as I felt my legs being spread apart. I looked up. There was a hooded figure above me. I tried to scream, but a pillow was placed on my head. The fear I felt in that moment melted the pain of him shoving himself into me away. When the pillow was lifted away, I could see again, but still could not see who this evil was. I glanced over to the bed next to where I was and made eye contact with whomever that heartless person was as more pain tore into me. Tears dampened my cheeks.

When there was more light filling the room a weight was lifted off me. The evil had gone, I did not care to look where, I just took my chance and left. I never looked behind me to see if I was being watched or followed. When I got to my room I immediately showered, and I just sat there and cried.

I continued on. I thought if I could just forget what happened I could survive. Live my life like it never happened. Besides who would believe me? But I was not strong enough. I was terrified. This chapter of my life was taken from me by this evil.

I was angry for a long time. How, why could God let anyone go through this? That was my thought. What did I do to deserve this? But when I grew stronger, I realized why. It was not because I deserved it, or because I was hated. It was because I was strong. I was strong enough to survive and because I survived, I am able to tell my story, to help others, and to live on.

I did not understand at the time why. I still do not sometimes understand the evil in this world, but I do know that I am strong. I know that I am a survivor, because I have survived a darkness. I have seen evil first hand, but I still find the strength to shine bright, to live on, and to love my journey. Even though some chapters have been scary, they help define who I am.

Nah, I don’t think so

*****warning warning*****this contains cussing*****last chance to stop reading*****you have been warned*****

I was in a super dark place. It was overwhelming me, choking me, and swallowing me whole. I said fuck that shit. I knew that I could get through it, because I have an amazing support system. Everybody needs to kiss my ass that does not support me, that wants me to be under their control, or that wants to see me fail, because I say fuck you…

That is right you read that correctly. If you cannot be supporting and only want information from me because you are a dirty cum sucking whore, then fuck you…

If you contact me only to use me for whatever game you want to play in your boring life, then fuck you…

If you pretend to like me to my face, but then decide to stab me in the back, then fuck you…

If you only follow me on my social media pages to live your life through mine, then fuck you…

But if you truly care for me, love who I am deep down inside, and have my back through it all then you should already know I love you and care about you too. I will be there for you as well and will continue to share my sunshine and sparkles with you. I will shine bright.

So, you might be sitting there going what in the actual fuck is going on.

It has been a bit of an emotional roller coaster the last few weeks and with the lack of sleep it had put me in a mood…but I survived. I powered on and got through it. It helps if you finally get a good amount of sleep. Who knew? Lol…

I do not suggest operating on three hours of sleep. It does nobody any good. I could literally see it on my face, I mean I still can, but it was way worse. I was not shining bright, I looked like death, and just blah. I was wearing my emotions across my face. My eyes were puffy from the loads of waterfalls that came from my eyes.

You might be wondering why I am sitting here admitting that I was in that place. But I told you this is a place where I will be honest and raw. Why hide? Because someone might judge me? Oh, fucking well. Judge away. I can not worry about what others think of me or say about me. That is no way for a person to live their life. I want to live how I see fit. Not the way the world thinks I should, because someone’s feelings might get hurt. It is ridiculous that society has become full of pussies. Grow a pair of balls and stop being afraid.

How is anyone going to be happy in their own skin, with their own life if they continue to hold back because of someone else’s thoughts about them? Maybe we should feel sorry for those that feel the need to constantly talk bad about other people and walk around like a dull star, because I personally think those are the most miserable people. You know the one’s that want to bring everyone down around them…nope not in my world. I say fuck that shit.

Sure, I have judged people, we all do. But I will not bring someone down because I am bored in life. No, I have decided a while ago to live to my fullest. To shine, to smile everyday no matter what, to be happy, and not to let anyone control my happiness. But these past couple weeks I slipped, fell, hit my head on every surface on the way down to the damp cold numbness that darkness brings. And today I decided to say fuck that shit.

I am going to refocus and make sure this does not happen again. I love life way too fucking much to allow this. I will continue to shine, share my happiness, smile, be strong for my family, and send sparkles everywhere.

Sunshine and sparkles!!