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my friend is alive.

i had sent her a myspace message saying the prayer request i sent to mike-my-youth-group-guy, and that he forwarded to everyone else in the youth group, and telling her how scared i was for her, and especially how much i love her.

she finally responded.

and i. am. so. happy.

not knowing if she was alive or dead really put my life into perspective though.

i really need to stop sweating the small stuff.

i came really close to something i really don't want to be anymore. . .i kept thinking about killing myself, how easy it would be, and everything. i don't want to die anymore. but there's a part of me that just. . .can't throw itself out of this funk. i'm so used to being crazy suicidal that i can't break free. i'm not sure what to feel, you know?

if i let all the small stuff pile up on me, then i'm going to end up right the hell back as the suicidal person that i don't want to be anymore.

i need to not get pissed off in geometry over losing ten points for not using a formula.

i need to not get pissed off over kids making fun of me for leaving the room during shindler's list when a man beats the crap outta a woman.

i need to not get pissed off over every person who uses gay as an insult.


i need to get pissed off when someone calls me a dyke and makes fun of me for being the gender identity and sexuality that i am.

i need to get pissed off if i see someone getting abused and people not caring.

i need to get pissed off about how "God hates fags" and fred phelps and the whole south baptist [?] church thing.

i need to get pissed off over people raping other people.


but i need to not get pissed off over things that don't matter, or else i will drive myself crazy. [my OCD is kicking in right now. just btw.] i need to not let every little thing get to me until i can't deal with it anymore.

i don't want to be suicidal anymore.

and yes, ik i've had this realization before, a few times, most notably on emmaus when i then spent ten full minutes hyperventilating with my face pressed into an angel's collarbone while she hugged me. . .actually, i spent a whole lot of time like that. . .i was a really bad wreck that weekend, but in a good way. . .it helped me a LOT to be able to just get out my emotions in a place where i know i'll always be safe. . .hence i go to the youth group every week. i don't feel safe at home. i don't feel safe at school. that's the only place i can go where i don't need to be scared that someone will call me a name or smack me or rape me [i have pretty crazy virginitiphobia--fear of rape.] or abuse me in any way. [i'm clenching my jaw really badly, which is kinda awkward.]

i don't want to hurt anymore.

i'm thinking of starting a new LJ. there's so much drama attached to this one. it's not that i don't like you guys [yea all like two of you that read this] or anything. i just. . .think i need to start fresh now.

maybe i'll be back on this name. who knows, you know? haha.

feel free to come find me. you guys are like a family to me. [and then there's my sister. . .hahahahaha. she'll get that; no one else will. . .as usual.]

i'll prolly friend you if i ever get around to making it. if i don't, then just go into sarano14's profile, cuse i'll friend her or else she'll kick my ass while we wait for the bus on fridays. =D

it's 4 44AM. damn it, now it's 4 45AM.

i need to shower and finish my coffee. . .no sleep for me. haha.

o yea and one more thing of news: i'm sending in an application today to go to a music camp. . .SINGING TENOR! and before anyone asks, no, i'm not on t, my voice is really just that low naturally. you'd never guess it from my speaking voice, or my height, but i can get down lower [*and still be in a comfortable and natural range*] than any other girl i know. i know girls who can HIT bass notes, but they can't SING there and still a. not sound like total crap, and b. completely be ruining their head voices. yea most of my friends are sop I sop II and a few alto I. . .and pretty much all of my youth group is sop I and i'm generally two octaves below them when we sing our Godmusic. it's pretty intense. but anyway, i'm just really glad that i'm getting to [hopefully] go to this camp and sing tenor. it's kinda a big thing for me.

[and also, my foot fell asleep. roar.]

so i'll either be back here or starting something knew. . .who knows?


Current Location: family room floor.
Current Mood: =]
Current Music: iTunes = hates me.

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i bowled two games last night with my sister, jaye, alyssa, norman, and dave.

once i won [by a single point] with 118 points.

and the next time i lost miserably with like 78 points.

i had mozzerella sticks [sp?] and iced tea.

i also had one of jaye's curly fries.

i got my hand stuck in the ball once too.

it hurt. . .a lot.

my wrist is really sore now.

but in like three hours i'm bowling two more games with WALK.

i am severely in need of some youth group and leeching some angels.

[if you didn't understand that, then don't ask.]

i got in a fight with la madre today. . .it was really bad. i told her i hate her and that all she was saying was bull.

[i'm not allowed to say sucks or freaking, even though she can call me whatever the fuck she wants to, so it's a big deal for me to say bull to her.]

actually i asked my shoe to tell her or something, cuse i haven't spoken to her in two and a half months. but i was two feet from her and screaming, so i'm pretty sure she heard me.

and i also slammed doors a lot.

my friend might be dead right now.

she sent me a final goodbye IM last night right as i was about to leave. i tried to convince her not to do it but idk if it worked or not.

i asked our youth group director to send the WALK people a prayer request email, and he did. so hopefully that will work.

[[[please Jesus, don't let her hurt herself anymore.]]]

[[[i love you so much, please don't do this.]]]

Current Location: family room floor.
Current Mood: worried freaking out.
Current Music: we want to see Jesus lifted high, petra.

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i wrote this so long ago.

like, in. . .october or something.

it's a conversation between the strong part of me and the weak part of me.

the one with capital letters is the strong part.

and it's kinda a lot like a conversation i had with my personal real-life hero, except i don't think i said fuck as much then, and i was a lot more willing to tell her, and i was DEFINITELY not such a sarcastic bitch to her as i was to myself. plus it was like three months before this and right after the PUTA thing. . .you'll learn about that later if you don't already know. that convo also ended nothing like this one did. . .i was definitely not as willing to believe it wasn't my fault back then.

read on, but beware. . .

i used to be a pretty fuckedup kid.

Hey babe. How are you?

fine. you?

I'm good.


What'd you do today?

o, nothing. just had a panic attack.

Dios mio, what happened?

my hell.

. . .? You're in hell?

they made my life hell.



Hun, what are you talking about? What happened?

. . .

What's wrong? Why won't you tell me?

*hides.* nothing. forget i said it.

It's obviously not nothing.

fuck off, okay?

Chiquita, what's wrong?

o, nothing. i'm just fucking dying here. my soul is dead and i'm going to hell.

Please, tell me what's wrong?

*sighs.* do i have to spell it out for you? i was fucking hurt. by two guys. and i've done a lot of stupid things.

Dios mio, babe. Did they hit you? Did they rape you? What happened?

*hides.* no. nothing happened. i'm fine, i'm fine, nothing's wrong.

It's okay. I won't tell anyone. I won't judge you.


Of course.

swear to God?

YES, hun. I swear to God. And I'm Catholic. I don't joke around about God.

no. you'll tell an adult. you will.

I swore to God. I won't tell. I really won't. It's okay.


Holy shit, chiquita. *gianthug.* It's going to be okay. I swear it.

no. it's not ofuckingkay. do i look ofuckingkay to you?

Okay, hun, calm down. Listen to me. It was NOT your fault.


NO. Babe, it was NOT your fault. It wasn't then, and it isn't now. Do you understand me?

no. i'm a fucking idiot. leave me alone.

It wasn't.

*sighs.* i think i know that somewhere deep down. i just can't get myself to believe it.

It wasn't. Would I lie to you?

i hope not.

I wouldn't, babe. Trust me. I would never tell you something anything less than true. Jesus loves you; God loves you; I love you. I swear. I won't hurt you.

what if God was just punishing me?

NO. God does NOT punish people. No matter what, this was NOT your fault. Remember?

then what was it?

It was the assaulter's fault. It was the devil trying to get you to turn against God. Just. . .make sure you take care of yourself. Read your Bible. Pray to God for strength, and for forgiveness, if you think you need it. It wasn't your fault. . .remember that. *hugs.* If anyone else touches you, kick their ass. If you need anything, I'm always going to be here for you. You got all that?

yes. thank you. thank you so much. i think i'm going to be okay now. i just. . .i needed someone to tell me that it wasn't my fault. i have to go. but thank you.

Stay strong, chiquita.

crazy shit, right?

i've been thinking a lot about how i am.

there isn't really that much i like about myself and i really want to change it. so basically i'm trying to strip my personality down to nothing and recreate myself from there.

i read a lot of things that i wrote in 7th grade, and then i realized that 1. i was a really big dyke back then, but i didn't even realize it until over two years later, and 2. i used to be a total bitch. like, a really big bitch. not even kidding. horrible and mean and a complete ass. i would hate myself if i met her now, and she'd hate me too. i'd call her mean and bitchy and cold-hearted and she'd say i was "so gay" or something [that word wasn't really big back then as an insult but i'm making her into a 9th grader today so yea.] and also she'd call me a self-righteous pathetic suicidal emo dyke or something.

[told you she was mean!]

i also read a lot of things that i wrote in 8th grade right after, and i realized that 1. i was pretty much pathetic, and 2. i really needed some intensive psychotherapy. [i was also pretty gay back then but not as bad cuse i didn't have a boy haircut anymore.] i seriously don't know how i made it through school without getting sent to guidance all the time. i did get sent a fair few times but how the fuck did they not figure me out? if i met my 8th grade self as a freshman today, i think i'd feel fucking horrible for her. and i would also try to help her, cuse she was in a fuck of a lot of pain. not that many people who knew the shit i'd been through gave a shit about me in 8th grade, and if they did, it was in a way that they'd just hug me and figure it was all better and then drop it completely. i think that is both one of the things that fucked me up the most and also one of the things that i'm thankful for, cuse if i hadn't been through all of that then i wouldn't have met some pretty amazing people who helped me a whole lot. my 8th grade self would resent it though, just like i did over the summer when my hero tried to help me. deep down though she'd know that present-day me was just trying to help. she'd just be too scared to accept it.

i think if i put my 7th grade and 8th grade selves in a room together, 7th grade me would beat the fuck outta 8th grade me verbally [and maybe physically] and 8th grade me would definitely start crying and then 7th grade me would just be like, "shut up, stupid fucking emo dyke. i don't give a shit."

and no, i am not kidding.

i'm trying to figure out who i am today. now. i can never seem to define myself until i'm out of that phase, which i hate cuse i never know who i AM. i am a massive hypocrite, and i'm pretty sure of that, cuse i always yell at people for not knowing who they are, and then here i am not knowing who i am or what i'm doing.

i know exactly who i want to be when i grow up. i want to be that woman who every kid trusts. i want to own an apartment in a shitty part of NYC and have every kid around know that they can come there if they need to just to chill for a while or if they just can't deal with going home right then. i want to be someone who every kid around knows they can tell anything and it won't get back to anyone, even their parents. especially their parents. i just fucking want to be trusted. i want to be that woman. and every single person reading this knows who i'm talking about. everybody trusts or at one point has trusted or will trust someone, even if it's just yourselves. for me, it's a certain angel who trusted me and believed me when no one else in the whole world did, even my best friends. and i want to be like that. if i could grow up and be even a uioaeklsfdazillionth like that, it would be enough.

and yet, i have no idea who the fuck *i* am. i don't know who i am at all, right now. and i don't know how to become who i want to become.

i am pretty much completely a dependent person. and i hate that so much. it took me almost a year and a half to be able to declare that a whole bunch of shit wasn't my fault. and i couldn't have done it without my angel. but where does that leave me? why can't i just fucking tell myself things and BELIEVE myself?

i just want to be strong.

where You are
is where i want to be
in Your arms
You will comfort me
far away
from everything i used to be
You know i have come so far
to be where You are
be where You are.


Current Location: chair in bedroom.
Current Mood: contemplative thinking.
Current Music: blitzkreig bop, the ramones.

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i'm a bad person. i never check my friends page. all of you could be fucking dead right now and i wouldn't know.

. . .pleasedon'tdieorotherwiseinjureyourselves.

anyway, now that i'm done with that. . .

today has been one year and six months since i was first sexually abused, by my [now ex] boyfriend.

i have been through panic attacks, nightmares, nervous breakdowns, multiple confrontations ending in me punching him, asthma attacks, flashbacks, eating disorders, psychotic breaks, shock, denial, a hell of a lot of writing, anxiety, self-blame, distrust of others, emotional detachment, depression, attempted suicide multiple times, self-mutilation, multiple attempts to run away, and fearing guys enough to start questioning, and then finally to realize that i'm a lesbian.

but you know what?

i am okay with all of this.

it has made me who i am, who, if i do say so myself, is pretty much kickass, or at least, trying to become kickass. [i'm in a major personality upheavel [sp?] right now, stripping myself down to zero and rebuilding it.]

i will NOT let this ruin my life.

i do NOT have to be depressed like i have been. starting now, whenever i think of this, i'm going to try to remember how fucking AMAZING i've become from it. [i actually have no ego and am extremely self-conscious btw, so don't yell at me for being damn proud of who i am for once.]

and i'm going to youth group tonight and hugging everyone so so so much.

but the main thing is this:


Current Location: family room floor.
Current Mood: happy ecstatic.
Current Music: tune out, the format.

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so i'm really sick of listening to you and your new best friends.

i don't CARE if they want to call you an alcoholic in private.

[actually, i do, but there's nothing i can do about it.]

you still just don't do that in french class.

and no, i'm not sorry i spoke up.

so what if your new friends [and my old friends] want to yell at me?

get over yourself.

maybe your new BFFs need to not make your EX-BFFs cry for 45 minutes during class. maybe they need to get over themselves too. and maybe YOU need to realize that going out and partying isn't going to fix ANYTHING!


i used to just pity you. . .pity that you managed to get yourself trapped.



i'm mad that you didn't believe me when i told you about him making fun of my gender until i cried onstage. and i'm even more mad that you befriended him even more after that. i'm mad that my other then-BFF started dating him. and you know what? i don't care WHAT i told her, cuse you STILL shouldn't be flirting with him!

come on, what's this REALLY about? you KNOW it's not just about him. that's not good enough reason to tell someone, "keep me out of your fucking life. keep me out of this drama that you feel the need to create!" because I DID NOT CREATE THIS.

what is it, huh? you sick of putting up with my gender battles? you sick of hearing about the kids who tell me that i can't like the gender or genders or not genders that i like? you sick of me being sad all the time? you sick of me freaking out over being hurt by boys, worse than any girl or boy or genderless should have to ever go through? you sick of me wanting to die?

you never wanted to put up with me, did you? you're a terrible friend; i don't care if you know it anymore. YOU ARE A TERRIBLE FRIEND. and maybe i'm mean and bad and awful for saying this, and maybe i'm a massive hypocrite, but you tell me: WHAT KIND OF FRIEND IGNORES THEIR "BEST FRIEND" WHEN THEY ARE IN NEED OF HELP? WHAT KIND OF FRIEND JUST LETS IT GO AND WHINES ABOUT HOW THEIR MOTHER MADE THEM GO TO CHURCH, AND THEN GOES AND SAYS THAT THE HOLY SPIRIT IS TELLING THEM TO GO TO DRINKING PARTIES?


i met people at the retreat that love me for who i am. they have known me for 12 DAYS and they love me more than you ever did in 10 YEARS. they've heard about you and him and all the other people who make my life a living hell every single day. and they love me anyway. you never gave a damn about me in a decade of countless sleepovers, thousands of playdates, and more than 20 birthday parties. one WEEKEND and those kids actually care about me and don't want me to get hurt and don't befriend people who make fun of my gender. you do it when i'm not around too, don't you? "i can't believe i was ever friends with that loser! she thinks she's a boy and she's stupid and ugly and SUCH A WHORE! i heard she slept with a senior after the cast party. . .i know it's not true. . .i was actually the one with him after the party getting a ride home. . .but oops! looks like i spread the rumor. . .o whatever, it's just that stupid dyke. . .who CARES?" and you know what? I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY ABOUT ME ANYMORE. i have friends now who love me and care about me and would NEVER believe things like that about me, unlike you. so you can take all your new friends and go drink your heart out. see if i care when you wrap a car around a tree.


you're going to choke to death in a puddle of your own vomit.

and call me terrible, but i will have an incredibly hard time crying.

you wouldn't have cried if one of the boys had killed me.

this was all just you putting on some stupid act.

the play's over.

[and by the way, tell your new best drinking buddy that eavesdropping isn't illegal so please read a lawbook, and when she sings song called "***** the alcoholic" with your name in it to the tune of "frosty the snowman," then it's not eavesdropping. she's LOUD.]




Current Location: chair in my room.
Current Mood: pissed off i'm so sick of you.
Current Music: zombie, the cranberries.

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i'm so sick of all of this.

tonight my sister told me she thinks me being gay is just a fake. she thinks i'm doing it for attention.

i asked her why she'd ever think i choose this. she told me that maybe negative attention was the only attention i could get. she told me that hanging out with the number of gay friends that i have made me want to be like them.

does she think that i CHOOSE to be like this? does she honestly think that i would ever CHOOSE to be hated by so many people that i can barely go one day without someone hating on me? does she seriously believe that i have a CHOICE in whether or not to be the transsexual man born a girl who's attracted to girls AND boys, and is just passed off as a butch lesbian?

this is not something that i CHOSE. this is just the way i AM.

i'm not a gay--i'm a gay PERSON.

maybe if every single person who thinks gay is wrong went through the things that we do every single day, they would understand. i'm just glad that when one of us gets hit, we strengthen as a group. even if we lose a man\woman\transsexual\genderqueer, at least we still have our strength in numbers.

tonight, i found my best friend, who happens to be 6'5, gay, and one of the mentally strongest people i know, and cried into his chest for half an hour. maybe i'm imagining it, but despite all his strength, i could swear i saw tears in his eyes too. . .

Current Location: chair in my room.
Current Mood: crappy =[
Current Music: la vie boheme, RENT.

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okay, i know a few people are wondering about what happened this morning in the hallway after period a.

so here's the story:

setting one: i had a bad day yesterday. . .a REALLY bad day. and aiden knew it. after school, he tried to get me to go to his locker with him. i really just wanted to get on the bus and go home and get away from the bad day.

aiden: "come to my locker with me."

me: "i can't. i need to get on my bus."

aiden: "your bus isn't here yet. come ON."

me: "aiden, i need to go."

aiden: "COME ON." [pulls me towards lockers by the arm.]

me: [breaks aiden's grip.] "I NEED TO GO."

aiden: "fine! be a bitch!"

me: "fine!"

setting two: by the buses, three minutes later.

aiden: [walks by me.] " you know what? i don't need any of your shit today."

me: "FUCK. YOU." [gets on bus crying.]

setting three: today, after the bell that ends period a rang.

btw, ***** is where i've edited out my name.

aiden: [enters my period a civ classroom.] "*****."

me: [tries to walk away, enters hallway.]

aiden: "*****!" [follows me into hallway.]

me: [keeps trying to walk away.]

aiden: [takes his books, smacks me with them.]

me: [falls into wall.] "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" [is extremely scared; starts running.]

aiden: [follows me through hallway.] "YOU CAN'T JUST DO THIS! THAT'S NOT HOW THE WORLD WORKS! YOU NEED TO GROW UP!"

me: [reaches locker.] "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME. IF YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN I WILL RIP YOUR FUCKING BALLS OFF." [is too scared to stop to open locker; turns around and continues running to period b spanish class.]

adien: [possibly misquoted, as information was taken from a friend.] "SOMEONE PLEASE KILL HER!" [stomps off.]

i ended up getting to spanish crying and scared, and then going to guidance. . .no one was there, went back to class, saw mrs. westerburg in the hallway. . .told her what had happened. after period b, went to a mediation. . .basically, he's not supposed to touch me or talk to me anymore unless i say it's okay. i'm "taking some time to think," as i put it. . .yea, never going to talk to him again, as far as i can tell.

now that i know he's willing to use violence if he doesn't get his way. . .i'm fucking SCARED. if he can smack me into the wall with his books over me not going to his LOCKER, then i don't want to find out what would happen if i got mad at him or something.

i don't see why i should still be his friend. i don't see why i shouldn't get a fucking RESTRAINING ORDER against him. well, okay, that'd be overdramatic, but you get the idea.

any thoughts are welcome.

to anyone who's ever told me to stand up for myself more: i think i've finally got the hang of it. maybe i need to not be so profane. . .but at least i yelled at him, yea?

[copied off of my myspace bulletins.]

Current Location: sunroom floor.
Current Mood: confused k wtf?
Current Music: happy new year, RENT.

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bah, i'm never on LJ anymore.

news from the land of the rainbows: i got this kid andrew vogeli an office detention the other day. he called me a dyke friday on the bus and said shit about how gay was _____ [insert derogatory terms here] and made me cry. so i went to the office on monday and reported him.

no one's going to fucking walk all over me anymore.



so if i'm going to act like a boy, then maybe i'd better grow some fucking balls. [that was somewhere between metaphorical and literal.]

i'm sick sick sick of letting people just call me names and make me feel like shit all the time.

so basically, i'm giving myself the same lecture i always get from a certain senior girl and being a total hypocrite.

i do not care.

call me a hypocrite all you want.

i am fucking sick of being dragged down into the dirt.

and i'm not going to let it happen anymore.



Current Location: chair in my room.
Current Mood: satisfied dance baby dance!
Current Music: iTunes = death.

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adult: "who are heroes?"

little kid: "anyone who has overcome something or helped someone. they're all heroes. they're everywhere you look. anyone can be a hero to somebody."

that's what my mind came up with in my sleep today. the adult was someone i've always admired; she's been teaching my karate's demo team for years, since before i joined. she's always been a role model for me. she was telling me, in present-day, the above: something i had said to her when i was younger. . .like, 8 or 9.

for some reason, this was also in boston, during a parade, and i had just gotten dragged through a subway terminal, linking arms with one of my friends so we wouldn't get lost [i don't remember who] and able to lift my feet off the ground and be dragged upright, that's how many people there were. my father was there too. we had just all gone to see a yankees game. don't ask me how we ended up in a parade in boston after we exited the terminal.

Current Location: family room floor.
Current Mood: amused hmm.
Current Music: missed me, dresden dolls.

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that is my piercing.

[don't ask about the x's, it was a long time ago.]

i got it nine months after tom. . .did what he did.

july 22nd, 1506. [i am 500 years off in life. bite me. corsets kick your ass.]

i had realized a few days before that for nine months, i'd been fairly anorexic. not on purpose. well, not CONSCIOUSLY on purpose. but, i knew that i had hated myself, and i think my subconscious had done it, for that reason.

my logic was, if i can put a ring in it, and flaunt [for lack of a better word] the one part of my body that was most affected by my stupid anorexic tendencies, then i wouldn't want to do them anymore. right?


a month or so later, i was worse. i was getting bulimic. i started throwing up pills [ibuprofin, nothing really bad] cuse my body couldn't handle the shit i was giving it. . .i'd take like 6 ibuprofin at night so that i didn't have to think about anything. . .mostly tom and matt.

one night, i got pissed off at myself, gagged myself with a zip tie three times over maybe an hour, and tried to carve PUTA into my leg cuse that's what i felt i was. a slut. cuse of what they had done to me.

an angel saved my life that night, and a million others. but that's another story.

i wear my bellybuttonpiercing to this day, and it's taken on a new meaning to me. cuse, even if no one else in the world does, i know what it stands for:

i have overcome my past.
and if i can beat that, i can beat anything.
i'm not going to be hurt again like tom and matt hurt me.
i am strong.
i am free.
and damn it, i am PROUD of who i've become.

Current Location: family room floor.
Current Mood: arioews.
Current Music: court tv in the background.

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