A letter to you nine years later.

***Disclaimer and pre-story***
Nine years ago,on February,1st,2005 a friend of mine who I,as well as many people loved took his own life.He was seventeen. Seventeen. It’s like a lifetime away,but I remember it like it was yesterday. Evan was the,”new guy” at school. I met him a few years prior to him coming to our school. He began dating a friend of mine,his ex girlfriend was upset about this,so she started many rumours about him. He was bullied and beat up at school,outside of school,cyber bullied. What happened? Nothing. Nothing happened. Now granted since then bulling is taken very seriously,and continues to be in the lime light,not brushed under the rug. However;I wanted to share this so no one forgets what it was life before the pink shirts and the day on the god damn calendar. If you are reading this and you feel depressed,suicidal or are being bullied PLEASE!! Take this letter to heart,because its from my heart.Talk about it to the person you trust the most,ask them to help you share it,you do not have to do this alone. Tell your teacher,tell your doctor. You,you’re life your heart is more powerful than the person or people bulling you. These are weak miserable people. Their issue is not your issue,the words are lies and your life is worth fighting for. Evan could be you,me,the kid sitting next to you,your teachers..yeah,plot twist,adults feel helpless as well. We all need help. I will be twenty-five next month and I would give anything to have him be here for it. Below is my journal entry from feb,2nd,2014 in the form of a letter to Evan.

” Nine years. Nine years worth of things I want to tell you,photos you should have been in,things you should have been here for and questions with no answer. It feels like yesterday. I remember the song that was on my head phones,where I was,the feeling of being punched in the throat with shock,where the sun was positioned in the sky Christ I remember how the cold air tasted.
I often wonder if you knew how many hearts you would break,lives that would be forever changed, moments that happened you would have loved. Would you still have picked up that gun?
I wish you could see how great ——– is doing. She’s a nurse,engaged and had the most beautiful little girl. She looks so much like her. ——- is married and the sweetheart she always is. ——-is a nurse as well and still has the prettiest smile and the bubbly laugh.
I always wonder where you would have gone? How soon things would have changed if you could have held on a little bit longer,what kind of man would you be today? I tried so hard to talk to you,I stood up for you constantly. —,——- and ——– tried there hardest to talk you out if it that day,you were to far away for them to get to you. She sent your dad. Than you were gone. I wish I would have had a vacuum to suck out every ounce of pain in you. I’d carry it myself if that would mean you would be here.
I wish you would have been here to see the truth come out. To see every person involved,who were so ignorant to their actions and
the truth until it was to late. The girl,(nice with my words here) admitted that she lied in a bawling scene of attempted redemption. The guys who tormented you,once the truth was know quickly shut up as they were showed up for being drones and one of the reasons your not here.
I can wish all I want. I can’t bring you back. A mental illness fuelled and pushed along by bullying. That’s what took you from us. That’s the hardest part to swallow.
I promise to make sure your name and life will never be forgotten,that your death won’t be in vain. I will find a way or make a way to make sure to advocate,create programs,talk,write and never ever stop fighting. If even one person is saved from going through what you did. To make something you would be proud of. I promise.”


Remember that time I went to detox?..oh wait,few people would. No time like the present!

I’ll spare you the whole story. We’ll save that for another day,it wouldn’t be helpful for anyone to get bullet point version of a journey. No friends. I’ll start, with my journal entries from the day before,as well as my time there in. Aug,2013. I’m a very open person,to open. Filterless really; However, for eleven years my journals have been the one thing I guarded like the Crown Jewels. Rip off the band-aid. Down the rabbit hole.

Aug,20,2013- ” Where do I begin? Better yet, When did I become the shell of the girl I once was that I now see. That is,when I can work up the courage to even look in a mirror. Who is this girl? This utterly selfish,broken person. That’s not me,none of this can be real. I’m happy,bubbly,loving. This girl? I used people,people used me. I tried harder than most,and failed bigger than many.”

Aug,22,2013-” So I’ve been here for two hours. When my admitting was being done(an epic ballad length questionare), All I could hear was the ticking hands of the clock above the door. Each tick sounding like the clicking of a camera taking snap shots. Flashing in my mind frames of time, my whole lifetime. What line did I cross or do that got me here? Which wrong turn? Which wrongly prescribed pill? As if it was that simple. No, MANY things I did, didn’t do, people, places. All led me to this place,where I need and want to be. Just me. Real, raw, no crutch stripped down me.  Who am I really? I’m a girl who has balls of steel,yet more anxious than I have enough ink to write.  I’m loyal and trusting to a fault. I love unconditionaly,even when I’m the one who gets hurt. I hate seeing others in pain ,so much to the point that I feel their pain. I’m hard headed and stubborn as an ox. I’m an idealist and a dreamer,and always need to get burned before I beleive the stove is hot.”

STILL Aug,22,2013-” congrats lace, First breakdown under your belt. Fuck. Eight hours without a smoke(pretty sure this no smoking rule is to weed out people..just saying), A fetal position panic attack and I am ready to rip out my own lungs, and suck out the nicotine .Im avoiding people for their,as well as my own safety,because I truly could rip someone’s face off right now. My room? Fuck. It’s so white,( I despise white walls..so sterile and uncortable),and you can tell this used to be a school. These settings always make me feel trapped and anxious. The blankets are thin and would better tissues,than a heating source. The dentistry/Hospital smell,the commercial standard pink soap. I literally feel like I could puke. This really is a manipulative,debilitating illness. The most charming deceitful sickness.”

Aug,23,2013-” Worst sleep ever. I kept having dreams that I was anywhere but here. I woke up to super low blood pressure. That was sorted. than the nurses(who as shit as this place is are absolute saints) told  me they finally understood why I wasn’t showing normal signs or withdrawal after counting how how many Ativan I went through,compared to the date they were prescribed. No,no you wouldn’t see text book signs of withdrawal,considering the worst of it was spent in my bed,popping Ativan like pez candies,to keep some shred of sanity while I had to wait a week to get in here. Trade one demon for another though. Coming of benzos isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy. First time I even heard of them,I was given them by my doctor,for severe panic attack(like fainting panic attacks) I used them as directed. I didn’t realize how high of a tolerance I had until soon after. I was 21. My ex ————– was on a three day crack bender. A few weeks before he had a seizure from the same thing, so I gave him a couple and put him to bed. He woke up,seventeen hours later asking how the hell I functioned. It was normal to me,by this time they didn’t really work the same mentally. Physically three years later,without them. My body is in spasms,my flesh is turning inside out. I want to puke,cry and jump out a window”

There really isn’t a way to finish this. Like I said,it’s a longer story than one entry and it doesn’t have an end. It’s going to be something I deal everyday. It coincides with other issues I will get into later. THE POINT,I wanted others who may not know,or get it. Who have a loved one or some altered idea of what it’s like to know what went on in my mind. Like a play by play. 


Why I’am proud to be a cunt.

Yup. I did. Bringing out the,”Big Guns.” Some,frankly,most people consider this to be one of,if not the most offensive word you can call a woman. Like a sucker punch to the gut. Throwing to the ground and shattering some moral compass. Why?
A word,by definition,is” A Combination  of sounds,or representation in writing or printing,that symbolize and communicate a meaning.” Generally speaking,in the Western world, a “Cunt” is either: 1.) A highly derogatory word used to describe a woman,using shock or vulgarity to represent woman in a degrading light. 2.) A use of slang language used to describe female genitalia.
As a person,as someone born with female genitals, who identifies as female and as a twenty-four year old. The idea of,”Cunt” being a verbal weapon to me is comical.
My “Cunt” has come in handy if I do say so myself. Quite enjoy its company. The ability to receive and give pleasure, and lastly and most importantly to have the privilege to be able to deliver life to the world.
Yeah, You’re fucking right I’m proud to be a,”Cunt.”


So I ask you…..

Lets have a little chat yeah? Grab a coffee, hell grab some wine. We are going for a walk down a lane; memory lane. George Santayana was quoted as once saying, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”.
Throughout history we have at each time period had a war or a movement, all shaping the people of that time and their children.

Now I ask are we the condemned? Have we closed the doors of our mind? Through the blindness of our ego we have forgotten the present and real fight. Our idea of individualism is tainted, we misplaced power in the idea of this individualism as what will save us. What if that energy source was focused and channeled into an interconnected society and consciousness?
Lets not let the fights of the past, the lessons, the warnings be dried ink on a page of a dusty book.
I say fuck pro-feminism, fuck anti-feminism, fuck religion, fuck labels, fuck imaginary geographical boarders, fuck money, fuck race, fuck heterosexuality, fuck homosexuality, fuck gender. Our movement? To wake up, change, grow and evolve to the wonder and greatness that we are collectively as beings on this spinning sphere. There is a fire in our hearts, a hole yet to be filled. We are too smart to be this stupid, delusional, and indifferent. That my friends is the only fight and we are worth fighting for.

Imagewill you remain (if you are), as a conditioned drone, floating about your existence, perpetuating the cycle of ignorance, or will you rise to your true conscious self, and all of us stand united?