And when you wake up, everything is going to be fine.

I like music. I quote music lyrics. I live my life by certain lyrics.

"It's always darkest before the dawn."

"Open me up and you will see, I am gallery of broken hearts."

"And when you wake up, everything is going to be fine. I guarantee that you'll wake in a better place, in a better time. So you're tired of living? You feel like you might give in? Well, don't. It's not your time."

No matter how you feel or what dark thoughts swirl in your head in a moment, I have found that just going to sleep before doing anything is always best. It doesn't solve any of your problems, but always when you wake you'll be in a better place, at a better time. You'll make a better decision, and if even just for that duration of slumber, you survived just that much longer. Usually I sing these words as I lie on rock bottom, so they are not wrong I suppose.

This morning I am alive and I am beautiful, but I am still just a shell that roams life. A visitor instead of a host. The small hammers of hostility from my peers begin to chip me away as I force myself through the motions of living. I wish I was invisible. I wish I could fall in love with my work so deeply I could block everyone and everything out, but there is nothing inside to love with.

"I'm always dragging that horse around."

"Nothing is real but the pain now. Hold my breathe as I wish for death. Oh please God wake me."

I think it is going to get better. It could be worse.

Water is Eternal

Today I cried. I cried the way I cried in 6th grade. The same problems, the same feeling welling up inside me, the same bottles of emotion shattering from light pings and pangs from the hammers of everyday life.

But unlike 6th grade, I was surrounded by people who were mature enough to care. And instead of getting angry at me only replied, "It's not you. Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." And the tears melted from shame to relief. For the first time in my life, it wasn't my fault. Or at least someone told me it wasn't.

It was October 2004. While most teens in the 6th grade were finding their place in the newly-formed social ladder, a product of combining three elementary schools to one, I had bigger issues to face. For years I had been fighting with my mom and I was in between two episodes of running way. My sister that week had threatened to kill me before going to bed and the voices were getting louder. There also was a strange man who I did not like getting unusually close to my little brother. And also, I was starting puberty. So basically a normal day in the life of Karen.

My friends were... Shallow. Kind, stable students from perfect, wealthy homes. They were the antithesis of my life and that is the way I wanted it. The greater the difference between us, the better I could live my double life-- normal straight A student at school, lifetime sentence to a mad house at home. Not a single soul of them knew anything about my home life. For how talkative I was and open about everything, expressing ideas of something outside these shallow girls' experience would just be a pain to all of us. However, I had no idea just how much pain it could cause.

After one particularly rough night at home, I came to school with tears still fresh in my eyes. I had cried so much the night before, that even upon waking I cried that I woke up. (I hated that even though I laid out a book of ways to kill myself-- engineered 13 ways actually-- I never had the courage to do any of them.)
But like everyday of my life, I pep talked myself to dry my tears, don't let anyone see, don't let anyone know. Just be the Karen everyone knows for her shining smile.

This day, I couldn't. My tear ducts no longer had any strength in them. Any contortion in my face broke a tear through. I knew it would be a rough day, but I had no idea how rough.

I was standing in the entry way to Mrs. Urban's classroom where the instruments were kept. It was a white-walled, strange bump out from the hallway to the classroom. The bus dropped us off rather early to school every morning and I would hangout sometimes in this little alcove before class would begin. When Sarah, Elizabeth (and probably Claire and Alicia I don't remember) came, we began to talk about whatever it was we talked about. I apparently was not as chipper as I normally was, and Sarah asked what was wrong. I got dismissive, and told her even if I could tell her, she couldn't possibly understand. Naïvely, she began to try to comfortingly coax it out me, saying she would understand but that I needed to share with her. I told her no. She began to get upset with me. That we were friends and if I was upset I needed to share. I told her no. She pressured me more saying that it was MY fault that she couldn't help because I was the one who wouldn't tell me what was wrong. I told her I didn't want her to comfort me, and that it will pass, and to just let me be. Through all this, I broke down. All the glass started to shatter and the floodgates opened. The girls stood, shocked as I slid to the floor in an uncontrollable outburst of the ugliest cry one could imagine. They left me.

Next thing I know after class, as all the students leave, Sarah stands and waits in the class. Mrs. Urban tells me to stay behind for a moment, and I am scared. I am so fragile at this moment, anything out of routine is like a rake clawing me from the inside. But here I sit in a circle with my just recent aggressors with Sarah playing the role of victim. Band class-- my musical escape-- is beginning at this moment and each tick of the clock fills me with dread. Mrs. Urban first has the "victim" explain why we are all here. Sarah says this tragic story of how I am just a mean, angry person who takes out my frustration on them (as of that day) and I refuse to tell them why, even though if I only trusted them, I could be happy and our friendship would be fixed.

I am appalled. I remember questioning my entire judgement at ever being friends with such self-centered people. Mrs. Urban turns to me and asks why am I so upset. I reassure her and everyone in the room it has nothing to do with them until they started to press me. Banter continues on using the logic, "Well if it has nothing to do with us, then why can't you tell us." I remember being shocked that Mrs. Urban still sides with them for the most part. I beg for us the drop this and just to let me go to band class. Mrs. Urban says we can resolve when both sides... compromise. (What a shitty ass idea.) Sarah says she will only be satisfied when she is able to help me.

I don't remember all that happened, or everything said. I remembered I wanted to die. I hoped my emotions would make me pass out and I would hit my head. My eyes were stinging and the room was in a haze. I was fading in and out when Sarah talked. I felt like I was drowning after I was not allowed to leave. I remember screaming. I think I said "LEAVE ME ALONE!! leave me alone...." And crying. I remember Mrs. Urban taking me swiftly with a hand on my upper back to the drinking fountain. Looking back, she had no idea what to do. She put me in the hallway between counselor office rooms hoping one would come out but they were all busy. She brought me back to the drinking fountain and asked the secretary which one was free first and what to do with me. Sarah and the other girls stood sheepishly by the classroom door peering out until I glared at them, crying from being frightened like at a scary movie. I was actually very glad at this moment. They would stop and now a little bit of truth could be shed on who really was the victim here. Mrs. Urban ordered them to go to class and to not talk about this.

So tonight in my living room, I cried. My walls broke down. Instead of being bullied in to sharing why, I freely shared the reason for my pain. "It's not you." It's been over 12 years since that day. I still hurt. I still have rope in my room, and I s have poison in my room. And yet, I still stand on two feet when I wake in the morning.

(Sidenote, I confronted Sarah years later-- in high school or just a year after high school about this exact event since it did greatly effect us all of my middle school and high school, and though she didn't really think she did anything wrong, she apologized and said she had no idea. And I said I know, I didn't want her to. She had the audacity to say I should have confronted her sooner so that maybe we could have been on better terms sooner, and I told her that was not a possibility, and things in life must run their course.)

i'm better off when i hit the bottom

I am hollowed out. Distraction is a state of mind.

The seed of depression has grown into a tree inside of me, spreading its members into my fingers, into my throat, out through my eyes. It taints my vision with its logs. All I see is horror and anxiety.

The less I eat, the more it grows. The more I eat, the more it grows. People passing with blank expression, unimpressed by my existence is the MiracleGrow so strong I am afraid to leave my desk for fear of another application. At the meeting this morning, the abrupt cutting off of my sentences-- after each word had to fight to the surface, entangled in these branches-- sliced apart whatever slivers of a person I had left. I am barely alive. The hollow shell of a person is swaying like a blanket on mighty tree.

Dismiss me more. Your apathy is fatal.

Break a Camel

Today I sent him a message. It was six days since the last message. It was his birthday you know. Tonight's contained information that I thought he would find interesting: "Alright"

No further comment. Not even a period to end the thought.

A period means stop. No period.

While his thought might linger according to the absence of a single dot, this gives all the signals for me to stop my thoughts. Well, my thoughts to him via Facebook messages.

With nice guys, it takes a while. The camel's back is strong because its the right thing to do, to be strong. The kind thing to do... the nice. It's nice. Responding. It's a nice thing to do from nice guys. Not to ignore a woman's texts, even if you want to ignore her.

Let's see how long it took me to break this crush. I crush crushes so I can stop crushing by crushing so hard that the nice crush decides to crush nice. A uninterested one-word reply is not ignoring, but its not really nice either. Not responding means you might respond-- hope. Responding terribly means that's all it folks.


I have yet to figure out who is my audience and frankly I don't care. You all will probably think at this moment, "But Karen, aren't you overracting? Like what is even going on?"

*I am tired, so yeah totes probs.*

Basically, there is a guy. I like this guy. Thought he liked me back. Very exciting. Got bold. Got rejected. Acted like I don't care. I care. But friendship pls? He was very confused. He rejected me, is she unaffected? Yes, I am a stone-cold, heartless, friendship machine... be my friend 'kay? He supposes. He goes away to a foreign country for a month. Chatting is always initiated by me, but he responses... until he doesn't.

May 1st (the day after he rejected me) to May 26th, I initiated a conversation 10 times via Facebook messenger.

Six days ago he responded in 5 words. "Thanks Karen, so fun adventuring"

Today he responses "Alright"

Tomorrow? There will be no tomorrow. I need to get over this now.
...oh wait, he just like my Facebook post.

*burns Facebook*

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.


Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.


The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:


For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.


-WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Mad or go mad?

Hello Everyone.


So this guy I was seeing and who was COMPLETELY leading me on, like 100%, after dragging me to this event I explicitly said I was uncomfortable going to but was willing to try it for him, all of a sudden just said he is not interested in dating me. We've been on two dates btw. I would call these dates. I am pretty sure most of the normal population of people would call these dates.

Anyway, all that is now history. But what happens next isn't. Like I work with him, and I see him all the time, and I have no idea how to proceed. I could say what's really on my mind, or I could just keep it to myself and completely ignore him. I feel like I would go mad though. However, if I let out what is inside of me, I am MAD. Like at first I was shocked as this was a reply to a message I sent chatting over Facebook. Not expecting that response. Then he calls me. And then he says he just pocket dialed me. We were planning on doing something together this week, we just hadn't set the time. Do I

1) angrily say to cancel the event without details?
2) do nothing.
3) go anyway with the semi-scheduled event and try to be... friends. People will think we are dating.

I am mature enough to be friends, but I feel like I don't want to be (hahaha I sound like a child). This whole time I was never more sure in my life that this guy was leading me on, and it will be a whole plethora of constantly being annoyed that he may or may not be leading me on. So obnoxious.  I am just so done.

But strategically, I feel like I need to be his friend, or really his coworker. He is a hardworker. He is reliable. I need him in my work environment and my social environment as a team member.

Also, its not a crime to be good looking. Like, looking back, if a guy was into me, I feel like I probably would have gone to this point as well to finally be like, okay you know what no. I guess I should be grateful he did not let it go any further. Also, if I am mad and bitchy, he'll probably only think "Dang, dodged a bullet on that one." So I better just workout, eat right, sing, better myself on every level and move on to let the person that WILL appreciate me, appreciate me.

Ugh, but tomorrow's Monday. Decisions, decisions.