Rated R -WARNING-

Extremely explosive language in an overdrawn (and overdue) rant.

To every fuckface in the internet world-

Hiding behind a screen name does not make you tough, and it does not grant you the right to talk down to anyone else in this world.  I highly doubt you would say a FRACTION of the things you say online in real life.

At this point, this isn’t directed only at the fucking idiots online, it’s directed at every single person who has tried to tear someone else down.  I know I’m not completely innocent, but I have the decency to keep most awful thoughts to myself.  And here it goes, my mind is sliding, and I’m ridiculously angry.

Who the FUCK are you to point fingers, and post personal shit online?  Who the FUCK are you to dedicate an entire blog to a woman who has been fighting her entire life?  Who the FUCK are you to fucking post hateful comments and send hate mail, and to hate someone you’ve never met for no good reason?  Who the fuck raised these people?  Who bred this hostility, this violence inside them?

You are useless.  You are a fucking waste of space.  You’re breathing my fucking air, and you’re tainting it with your disgusting existence.  If I could kick you in the fucking throat, I’d smash the shit out of your windpipe.

The more I write, the angrier I get.  The more I write, the more I think about how badly I was treated throughout high school.  This rant about haters mistreating a good friend of mine online, has turned into a huge FUCK YOU to everyone who has ever said a bad thing to me.  I take it personally that these people attack my friends, and I find it pathetic that they think they’re in the right when they post bank information and shit that’s FUCKING ILLEGAL YOU STUPID CUNTS.

Just a few weeks ago, I was going through old pictures of me from high school, and I realized that I was cute.  That I was smart and funny and I looked good.  Yet I was catching shit from every girl in my class (and in the entire high school, really), and I was going home crying most days, confused as to why I was being treated so badly.

Seriously?  Were you so threatened by me that you had to smash my self-esteem?  Send me home in tears?  I was fucking cutting myself when I was 13 years old, I was in counseling around the same time, and I can tell you, I needed that shit to escape the mental rapes you fucking people put me through everyday.

No wonder I still hate your fucking guts.  Don’t fucking add me on Facebook, don’t smile and tell me how much you missed me when you see me in person; I’m not falling for your sugary sweet bullshit that you shovel to everyone.  All of you are disgusting; you were fucking nasty in high school, and you’ve only gotten worse.  You look like you’re  a new breed of human with that skin color, those faces you make aren’t attractive, and mustaches aren’t cool, you fucking idiots.  God luck finding a job when your profile picture is you drinking out of a box of wine.

Any who, back to the fucktards who hide behind screen names-

Fuck you all.  I would literally hunt every single one of your 12 year old asses down to slaughter, but in this country, that’s illegal.  I think it’s sort of funny how you dedicate that much time to hating a single person, but obviously, you have nothing better to do with your time, and all you are is a pathetic excuse for a human being.  I’d wish you good luck in your life,but I don’t think you’ll ever have one.  If I was leader, I’d cut you into tiny pieces and scatter you along the side of the road for the birds to snack on.  But alas, I am not, and I will settle for one final FUCK YOU.

As If

As if the last hair change wasn’t drastic enough.

After waking up yesterday and being really off, I realized that I needed a change.  The one thing that I can change without needing permission (not that I really need permission for anything I do, but I digress) is my hair.  And change it I did.

I buzzed it off while listening to dubstep and bouncing in front of the mirror.  I left a lot of the top, but after watching “V for Vendetta”, I wanted to buzz it all off (but I restrained myself).

I like it.  It’s so soft.

(This is the part in the movie where I’m institutionalized.)

Easy

The last few days have been so good, but like a little kid on a sugar high, I knew I had to crash sometime.

Last night, I felt so much like myself that I got my Hellhat out, and was working on it while I watched TV.  I knit probably 3-4 rows before I felt really tired, and crawled into bed.  Getting in bed only made me feel irritated and uneasy.  I fumed while I listened to the guy in the room above me make a massive amount of noise, and I was this close to going up there.

I didn’t even attempt to stay up late like I usually do, and instead, fell asleep, having uncomfortable dreams that make me a bit sick to my stomach to think about.

I’ve forgotten the small details; the color of your eyes up close, how your skin feels, how you smell.  It hurts to know I can’t form a coherent image in my head.

It’s so easy to stay in bed all day, to cry into my pillow, listen to songs that I can relate to.

One Step at a Time

I keep telling myself that it’ll get better; that it takes one step at a time, if I don’t think beyond today.  But it’s hard to believe myself (and the many people who have told me that I’m strong, that I can get through it) when I go to bed hoping that maybe, I won’t wake up in the morning.  When I open my drawer and wonder just how many Advil would it take?  When I hit snooze and roll back over to sleep, hoping that I can escape into my dreams for more than one night.

Before you freak out, I’m too cowardly to actually swallow those pills.  I just morbidly daydream about what would happen if I did.  It’s so hard to put my feelings into words, because I’m not trying to get your attention.  I’m escaping into writing, because that’s what I do when I’m not well.

And I’m not well.  Not by the widest stretch of imagination.  My dreams have reached that point where I’m almost afraid to close my eyes and sink into that oblivion, but still, I welcome the frightening world my head creates for me.  It’s easy.

I’m afraid to venture from my room, but I’m more afraid of the darkness that lingers in my bed.  It’s soothing to relax into it in the dark room, but my bed has become my hell, while it also becomes my haven.  I get suffocated by memories every time I put my head to my pillow, when my knee brushes the cold wall, when I inhale the smell of my blankets.

I’m running out of pretty words to describe how I feel, and I’m getting to this point:

It fucking hurts; I fucking hurt, being me fucking hurts me.  There’s something wrong inside me and I can’t fix it; this feeling, this darkness, this elusive pain keeps ducking its head and crawling deeper into me.

I don’t know how to cope; I’ve never learned how.  I keep pushing everything further back, adding more to what I have to deal with someday.  Just scratching the surface is like slamming a finger into a nerve; I feel utterly helpless when emotions flood over me.  How do you cope with yourself if you hate yourself?  I’m second guessing everything I’ve ever held as a fact.

I want to get back in bed because everything is simple; my mind does all the work.  But I force myself to get up, I force myself to dress, to eat, to shower, to go to class.  I force myself to smile at people who smile at me.

More mascara: less tears.  Pull yourself together.

Oh God, Not Again

It’s almost been an entire month since the last time I blogged, and today’s post isn’t really so much as catching up, but rather of complaining.

If you’ve read ONE of my posts, you’ll know that it’s what I do best.  In fact, if you know me at all (Twitter, YouTube, Facebook, in person), you know I complain a lot.  I’ve never been one to try and censor myself online (though, perhaps I should), and today’s post is no exception.  Hm, I’m not sure where to start, so I’ll start simply, with an effort to grab your attention (though, if you’ve gotten this far, I know I already have your attention…give me a break).

My life is falling apart.

If you go back a year in my blog, back to April of 2011, of 2010 even, you’ll know this is almost an annual thing.  But this time, I’m not kidding (the other times I wasn’t either, but this feels more serious).  I lost my job (over a month ago now, I think), I’m in dire straits when it comes to paying bills, I’m about to lose my place to live (school is ending), and although I have a slight summer plan, I have no way to execute it.  I’m fighting with everyone I love, and I’m constantly irritated.  I spend hours upon hours in my room, trying to get away from people, and when someone intrudes on this solitude, I get anxious and angry.

I always tell people that I don’t regret things, but I do.  I regret not applying to the Africa program (even though it made me anxious), because I know I would have been accepted.  That year abroad would have fixed this feeling (I think).  But instead, here I sit, knowing what I need to do, yet unable to do it.

You can tell me what I need to do, and I’ll listen to you, and agree that those steps are the ones I need to take, but I can’t take them.  Nor can you force me to.  I have to do it myself, yet I have no motivation to do anything.  My life is coming undone at the seams, and my coping method is to play dead and watch it unravel around me.

I’m getting to the point that it’s too late to do anything.  What I do now won’t help me, and I’m already sinking fast.

I can see the pity on your face (or is that annoyance?) as you read this; just another college girl having a moan about money.

But at this point, I’m starting to look inside me, and I’m not liking what I see.  I don’t want to do anything.  I’m stuck in this web, and I see the big fucking depression spider advancing on me, grinning as massively as possible.

I need help, but oh dear god, I’m not going to ask for it.  That makes me weak, right?  That makes me just another helpless girl, right?  I’ve been living basically on my own for at least 4 years now, and I still can’t take care of myself properly (hell, most of the time I can’t bring a fork to my mouth without dropping food down my front); oh, what am I saying, who am I kidding?  Did I ever take care of myself?

Just writing this is making me spin faster in this hurricane, and I can see all my faults.  I want to run away, I want to escape all ties, all debts.

I want to lay down and die.

God.  Again, I know what you’re thinking.  I need to go see someone and talk about my issues.  I’m not too far gone to realize that; in that aspect, I’ve always had incredible clarity.  I know when I need to ask for help, yet I can’t bring myself to actually do it.  I’m pathetic in the worst way possible.  I’ve alienated myself from my family, whether it was on purpose remains to be seen.  I’m spiraling out of control, and I’m about to crash. Oh dear, close your eyes.

Don’t watch.

Endurance

That run was HARD.

I ran last night, after about 2 weeks of not running (like I said I was going to.  The track was closed, and I’m not comfortable running outside here), and it hurt.

It took a lot longer for me to find that beginning running stride, and I felt almost drunk, the way I was wobbling around.  After 3 laps, I couldn’t take it anymore.  I got on the ground to do some crunches, plank, some yoga, etc, and finally made myself get back up and finish the mile.

Those last three laps almost killed me.  By the end, I was shaky and seeing stars.  I was so dizzy that I felt like I was going to pass out.  I laid down on the cold ground to wait for Kyle to finish his mile, and I just about fell asleep.

A warm shower took the knots out of my shoulders, but my abs ached for the rest of the night.

I’m not looking forward to tonight’s run.

Not Cutting It

I have a secret for you.

Although I look like I’m incredibly in shape, fit, and look like I eat well, I don’t, and I’m not.

I’m skinny, but I pant as I walk up a hill.  I eat pizza rolls for lunch, and other salt-laden foods for dinner, and I sit on my butt in my room most days, and other days, I lay on the couch and watch T.V.  Very rarely, I get up and actually do something active.

Lately, I’ve been feeling an itch.  I’m not content sitting in my chair, laying on my bed, relaxing on the couch.  I look at my pizza rolls and crave vegetables and fruits.  I look out my window and crave sunshine.

Spring has sprung, and my body is finally coming out of winter hibernation.  I’m anxious to work my body out until I fall asleep, exhausted and happy from the hard work.  I crave mountains, and long to be back in Wyoming, hiking with my dog.  But because I can’t afford a $400 plane ticket everyday to hike, I have to make do with the flat prairie of the Midwest.  I’m already planning camping/hiking trips in my head.  Right now, I’m looking out the window, typing as fast as I can so I can get out there.

School starts tomorrow, and I already know that I’m going to be bogged down, but I’ve already vowed to make this my best term in order to get accepted to University of Arizona for next fall. The beautiful weather will make it tough to go to class and get papers done, but there’s only 10 more weeks until I’m finished with my sophomore year at college (who knew I’d get this far?).

My mind can’t handle sitting in my room anymore; I’m headed outside to soak up some sun/warmth.

It’s Aliiiiive!

I swear I’m still alive.

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks.  First, I got fired, so I’ve been running around trying to find a new job (actually, I’m not really trying all that hard to find one, I’m basically being really lazy).  Second, I start the last term of sophomore year on Monday, and I just now get my classes scheduled (which was insanely hard because they were almost all filled up).  And lastly, I got my nose pierced!  I’m not going to get into it too much tonight, because I do have a whole thing to write up about my experience and my piercer.

So, this was really just to check in and assure you all that I’m still kickin’.  I’m headed to the zoo tomorrow, and on Friday, I’m headed to Michigan, so it’s shaping up to be a really long week.  I promise I’ll get better about blogging; during break, you’d think it’d be easier to blog, but in reality, I don’t have much to talk about (that wouldn’t bore the pants off of you, anyways).

I will be back to update you, I promise.

Running Again

I feel like I have a lot of goals, and I’m always introducing another to the mix, which I’m not sure is good or bad.

My most recent goal is working out every day.  I always try to do this, and it lasts for about a week before I skip it one time and then it doesn’t work anymore because of the one time I skipped.

Well, I’m doing it again, and I’m seriously motivating myself.  I’ve got an AWESOME bra (so I can’t complain that my boobs hurt or that the bra hurts, because this fits amazingly), I’ve got good shoes that are comfortable to run in, and make my feet feel good after, and I’ve got a whole spring break to make these habits stick.

It’s a bit much of me to think that I’m going to work out every morning and every night, but after the run I just had, I want to feel like that again.

I told myself to take this first night easy; just a simple short little run to get my body used to more exercise.  I ventured outside to run (after stretching, of course), ran up the hill and back down.  I didn’t even break a sweat, but I was panting a little bit.  I got back inside and decided that I should push myself a bit more.  I got my iPod, found a way to keep the buds in my ears (because music makes me workout at least twice the amount), and headed to the track (it’s dark outside and I was a bit wary of getting kidnapped or something).

The sign on the wall said “6 laps = 1 mile”.  I decided right then and there that I was going to do a mile, even if it killed me.

I started slow, jogging at an easy pace.  I was the only one on the upper track, and a bunch of guys were playing basketball on the lower courts.  The track is even with the 3rd floor windows, and the guys studying watched me (and met my eyes) every time I passed.  I could hear the guys playing ball yell, over my music, every time I got to the starting line (whether coincidence or not, it spurred me on).  About lap three, I started sprinting as hard as I could for one side of the rectangle (the shorter side).  In my head, I screamed to myself, “GO STRONG!”.  I got to the final lap, and about a quarter of the way through, sweat soaking my hairline, I knew that I was going to finish this lap strong.

I sprinted with every ounce of strength I had in my body.  Any ounce not dedicated to that headlong sprint was dedicated to the screaming in my head, “YOU WILL FINISH STRONG. YOU WILL DO IT.”

I thought that I was going to die on that final bit, but I finally got to the end.  In my head, I cheered for myself and I allowed a tiny smile before I started the 7th lap, just a walking cool-down.

When I finished that lap, I got down on the ground and held plank (this) for about 30 seconds until I felt he burn in my abs, and then switched into the child’s pose (this), held for a few minutes, loving the burn of stretching, and then transitioned into the cobra pose (this).

By this time, I still had time left before my playlist started again, so I decided to round out the workout with some crunches.  I did about 30 before the heat flooding my face was unbearable.

When I was done, my hair was sticking up all over the place with sweat and I had a massive migraine.  When I got to my room, I drank about half a bottle of water and then hopped in the (cool) shower.

I feel sore, but I want to go back out to the track and run some more.  These must be the feel good endorphins everyone talks about.

I want to go run some more, but I also want to curl up in bed with a book.  Since the track closes at 11, I think I’ll take the book. :)

Also, anyone want to suggest some fast-paced, upbeat songs for me?  I need a good mix, and the longer I run, the more music I need!

Lipstick Update

It’s been awhile.

Hi, my name is Cassandra.  Remember me?

Anyways, school has been pretty crazy, and I’ve been working my tail off to get projects and papers done last minute.  Add in massive procrastination and you’ve got me; a stressed-out college kid.

I’ve been trying to do the lipstick thing, and I try to put it on before I walk out the door…all the crazier colors get wiped off last minute because I’m not brave enough to wear them out yet.  Here are two lipsticks I have been wearing an awful lot, though.

This is Fanfare by MAC, the very first day I decided to do the lipstick thing.  It’s a very pretty mauve-y rose color, and it’s a Cremesheen finish, which gives it the glossy look, and also makes it very moisturizing.  It lasts for hours (I’ve never counted how many, though), and it gives a nice finished look to the lips without going overboard on color.

This is The Faerie Glen by MAC, after I colored my hair (oh yea, I colored my hair again.)  It’s a very light nude-y color and it’s a Lustre finish.  It barely covers the natural pigmentation of my lips, but it doesn’t give me a corpse look like a lot of other nudes give me.  Super moisturizing, and lasts for hours without needing a retouch.

Both are perfect for wearing with dramatic eyes (or as I’ve been wearing them, super super dramatic lashes).