I must be dreaming

July 29, 2009

I was panicking. We were living in a house with other vampires (think “Breaking Dawn” by Stephenie Meyer) who have all caught a disease. I don’t know what the disease is called, but it’s making them really hungry. Hungry for human blood. And I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to die because I don’t want it to be a gore fest. Whenever I read about vampires and events similar to this, I am not frightened. Of course it’s a book, but now after dreaming this, vampires are definitely scary.

My mom came home and walked into the bathroom. I opened the door to see her rubbing a washrag over her eyes. My mom put down the washrag; one of her eyes was an intense shade of red. She informed me about the disease, which turns out, is the reason why all the other vampires left the house. “Your scent was calling me back,” my mother said. I froze up and left the room.

There was a woman in the kitchen working on wooden crates. “These are for when it comes,” she said. ‘It’ meaning the slaughter. “Who is that for?” I asked, pointing down to a small crate split in half. The woman replied, “Your sisters.” I was scared and panicking again. I called my youngest sister into the kitchen. She tried to fit into one side of the wooden box and it wasn’t working. It was too small. I looked up at the woman and said, “She doesn’t fit.”

I woke up from this dream thinking, Thank God vampires aren’t real.

Song Of The Day – “Chocolate” by Snow Patrol http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV6-pVn3Yo0

I’m sinking like a stone in the sea.

June 6, 2009


I keep taking deep breaths because it feels like forgot how to breathe. I breathe too slow or to quick; not taking in enough oxygen or too much air. During the school year my little brother would breathe through his mouth heavily. Sometimes he would cry at night and I didn’t know why. It annoyed me terribly and I kept trying to explain to him why he didn’t need to breathe that way. Now I know the feeling. All of the sudden in the middle of the day I think, I don’t know what to do. You are probably thinking, About what? Well, I don’t know either. I just feel so utterly overwhelmed by everything. It’s summer time, right? I shouldn’t bother having to feel this way, but I do. And I am scared. I don’t know what will happen in a few hours or even a few days. Nobody really does. I mean, you might have a few events mapped out, but you don’t know what those moments of the day will feel like.

I went to my mother for advice and what she said was, “Just go and babysit. Once when you get home you can figure out what to do next.” I liked this idea, but this is all new for me. I’m used to planning out my day and setting goals, whether I realized it or not. This unpredictable schedule is throwing me off a bit. Today, I don’t want this day to slip away from me like all the other days do. Wasted and chasing time. Please time, stand still for only a day or two.

Brand New’s album Deja Entendu feels like my soundtrack. The events probably don’t quite match up, but the instrumentals capture my mood. In some songs Jesse Lacey almost whispers and I turn up my volume to savor his words. Especially in “Tautou”, which is one of my favorites though it’s only a minute and a half long.

I want to make this day last, but I don’t seem to know how. All I know is that I don’t want Monday to come. Please, not yet. If everyday was Saturday then I’d be fine with that. I’m still confused why I’m scared of what is next to come….

Just a dream, right?

February 12, 2009


Last night I had a dream. You see, I don’t really like dreams. Mine usually seem to be connected to inner fear or just something stupid that scares me while I’m asleep, though when I think about it later it seems idiotic. It wasn’t terribly frightening, though it was strange. It had something to do with a couple topics I’ve had on my mind a lot recently. Cutting and To Write Love On Her Arms. (In fact I’m wearing my one of my TWLOHA tees right now.)

In this dream I was in some hospital/psychiatric ward. The setup was similar to parts of my house, yet like a hospital at the same time. It was vacant. I wandered the halls with a few of my family members (I only remember my mother and Eleanor), yet I kept ending up in the same place.  As if I was going in circles. So while wandering these empty halls alone, they seemed dirty or abandoned. Finally I came across a bed, in which was my former house guest, Abby. I was scared I didn’t know what to say or do, I didn’t want to go pleading sorry. I ran back in circles, trying to think things over. Finally, I entered a bathroom. In that bathroom I found a razor blade. No, not a three bladed razor you would use to shave your legs. I razor blade. I began to cut little slits in my hand, the one I remember most was on my thumb. I hesitated a moment and went on. They were not very deep, but enough to sting. Blood didn’t ooze, but I saw blood. — My hands are shaking while I type this post.– I was tempted to go for my wrist, but I didn’t slice through the skin, only because I had a fear of “bleeding it out”. All through school the thought of cutting racked through my brain, and I was scared.


December 30, 2008

I’m guessing most of you have heard the word “emo”. Yeah, yeah. Kids who wear really tight clothes and hate their life so much they cut themselves, right? Well I’m not quite sure I told you the guests at my house, Layla and Lacey, have an older sister named, well know what, I’ll just call her Libby for now. Libby is goth, yes. She is you know, kind of “hardcore” or whatever.

It was Christmas day and Libby was over downloading music onto her mp3 player. Libby says she wants me to hear this Aiden song called “We Sleep Forever”. We click on this video on YouTube. The song is in the background, but the slide is all pictures. Later on in the song we see all these girls with bloody wrists. You guessed it, “cutters”. The song is actually quite depressing if you think about it, really. “This razor blade was made for me.”, that stuff will stress me out, give me chills. Ask Libby, “What is with all this emo suicide stuff?” “I dunno.” she says. It’s quiet for a moment and then Libby speaks again, “I used to cut.” and she holds out her arm. I’d seen those scars on her arm the other day and thought, “Oh my god1” and then, “No, Phoenixx you’re just being silly, she probably slept on her arm funny.” That really brought me back to reality. Libby goes on, “Life pushes you to a point when you feel all this emotional pain so you want to feel something physical. So… you cut.” I can hear her voice shaking. I’m scared for her. I’ve always thought cutting and suicide to be so glamorous. In reality, it is not one bit. Then I reply to Libby, “I’d be to scared to cut.” Libby and I were quiet for a while and I then left to go upstairs. I finally find my mother, I pull her aside and tell her to met me back in my room. My mom arrives and I whisper, “Libby cuts.” a look of shock and grief reaches my mother’s face as it did for me also. “How does that make you feel?” she asks. I look up and say, “Oh, I don’t know. Scared?”

Lately the word “emo” scares me. I don’t want to hear them whine and complain that their life sucks so much. Libby lives with an EXTREMELY strict father that has bolted all her drawers and her closet shut. Her mother, Abby, is a pysco and has not the slightest idea how to take care of children. I don’t want anyone to ever tell me their life sucks that bad unless it is like Libby’s situation or worse. Nor do I want to hear, “I’m so emo.” because I’ve had enough of that word.

If you or a friend or a loved one is cutting I am begging you to contact To Write Love On Her Arms at twloha.com. Because as Gerard Way has said, “Don’t piss your life away with suicide, it’s a bullshit way out.”