Keep fighting

Whisper a faded away prayer in the corner

Rocking back and forth, keep your head on.

Hands trembling, mind screaming, help me.

While your family scoffs at you mad in the corner.

 

"I didn't ask for this life," you whimper in pain,

As your hands act once again on their own

You just cry in horror as you pull out your hair

And drop it in a pile on the floor.

 

"I'm not crazy," you tell yourself, "I can beat this."

But your brain is more clever than that.

For you've tried, and you've tried,

But nothing has worked and you reach to yank another.

 

"Oh God, make this stop!" you inwardly scream,

But no one can hear your pain.

They avoid you and berate you, for it's all your fault

And the guilt and the shame devour your innards.

 

Hunched in the corner, hands acting on compulsion,

While you wish you could hold them down.

Your dignity and pride is torn with every hair,

And you hold it all in and keep your tears to yourself.

 

"Just stop!" everyone screams and blows fall on your head

And you bite back a strangled cry of "I can't!"

Nobody understands and they spit upon you

Because no one can see the war being lost in your head. 

I have a condition called Trichotillomania.  (trick-o-till-o-may-nee-uh)

Also known as Trich, it's a rare impulsive mental disorder that causes one to compulsively pull out one's hair.  Can I stop it?  No.  Is it my fault?  No.  It's a neurological OCD-related condition that affects 2-4% of the population, and something I've had for about 6 years now.  Only recently did I discover it was an actual thing I wasn't just crazy.

But like all other disorders, it's a struggle I have to learn to live with. 

I grew up being told that I was just being weak and needed more self-control.  That it was my fault.  That I just had to stop. 

I would try so hard to not pull, but I would always lose.  Then I would be so ashamed and guilt-filled that I would resort to pulling again, and it's a vicious cycle that never ended.  My red Tyler Joseph beanie has become my best friend. 


It seems so ridiculous, right?  Almost too silly to be an actual issue. 


But it's real and it's painful and terrible and I'm tired of hiding.

Sometimes it's so hard.  It feels like you're all alone in the world, misunderstood, scared of yourself and the damage your own hands cause.  Sometimes you just want to give up. 

But you can never give up. 

That's not an option, frens.

It may be hard to breathe down here, but just keep swimming up.  Up.  Up. 

It may hurt like hell, and you may feel like there's nothing left to live for, but there is everything to live for and your friends are there for you and Tyler is there for you and God is there to pick you back up again. 

You're not alone.

Keep fighting. 

In keeping with the Thanksgiving spirit, I'm thankful for all you wonderful friends.  Your support means the world to me.  I'm thankful for Twenty One Pilots, which has given me so much hope when I've just wanted to give up.  I'm thankful that God is constantly giving me the strength to fight this, and that I know He has a plan for me.


I'm thankful that we've come this far.


Happy Thanksgiving, frens!  Never give in to your fears.  Fight them.


Stay alive. |-/

What are you thankful for this year?  Do you have any mental struggles to fight?



Book Haul

I have a weakness for books. 


As you probably already know. 

I have no money, but I can't pass a bookstore without browsing.  And if I find any books that I MUST HAVE OR I WILL DIE, then I end up coming home with a dozen or so that I can't even afford. 


Like come on who cares about new clothes I will happily wear shirts with holes in them if it means I can buy more books. 


And my TBR Book Barricade?  Let's not discuss that.  Somehow it grew to become a monster that lurks in the corner and wobbles precariously when anyone breathes.  Then when it falls it makes me scream.  BECAUSE I KNOW IT'S A HEINOUS CREATER OF DARKNESS BUT THOSE BOOKS ARE MY BABIES AND THEY JUST GOT HURT. 


My life basically:  I HAVE NO TIME TO READ LOOK AT THE HUNDREDS OF BOOKS ON MY TBR STACK HOW CAN I READ THEM ALL oh look more books *buys 24 more books*

There is something strangely comforting about being surrounded by books.  It makes me happy.  Even if I haven't read them, I just like hoarding them like the Book Hoarding Armadillo that I am. 


And even if I've already read the books, psh I MUST HAVE COMPLETE SERIES ON MY SHELVES/BOOK BARRICADE.  Because of my bookish tendencies toward OCD.  If someone touches my book without asking, I will hurt you.  If someone so much as bends a page, I will hurt you.  If someone insults my book, I will hurt you. 

What can I say?  I'm very protective over my children.


So without further ado, here is the latest and greatest Book Haul!

see part of the TBR Barricade lurking in the background?  yeah it's grown since then...

And then, just because they're so pretty, my tiny collection of Classic Collectors' Editions:

Right now I'm reading:


Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy


Woah this is a good book.  I'd always heard horror stories about Leo Tolstoy being dry and tedious BUT WHAT ARE YOU POTATOES SPEAKING OF THIS IS A GORGEOUS STORY FULL OF LIFE AND COLOR AND THE LANGUAGE OH MY WORD IT'S BEAUTIFUL.  Victor Hugo wrote drier things, sheesh. 


Xenocide - Orson Scott Card


I usually don't like Sci-Fi.  But the Ender series is the sole exception to that.  I was such a rabid Ender fan that I wrote a fan letter to Mr. Card with a fan pic of Ender and....yeah I was slightly obsessed.  BUT THOSE BOOKS ARE SO GOOD.  They're adult books, but not that hard to read if you don't mind a lot of scientific theories and terms being thrown around your clueless head. 


Rediscovering Jesus - Matthew Kelly


Because Matthew Kelly is amazing and hey, we always need a refresher.  It doesn't matter if you already have discovered Jesus, it's still an amazing, inspiring read. 


All My Sons - Arthur Miller


No, I did not get this play because it's what the Twenty One Pilots band name was founded on....*cough cough*  I seriously do love Arthur Miller's plays.  IT JUST SO HAPPENS THAT MY FAVORITE BAND DECIDED TO NAME THEMSELVES AFTER THE TWENTY ONE PILOTS IN THE PLAY SO. 


Speaking of plays, that just so happens to be my newest favorite genre.  Or to be exact, Greek plays. 


Readers: *collective gasp of horror because how can she be reading Greek dramas FOR FUN THEY ARE SO DRY AND ICKY*


I read Aeschylus' The Orestia for a class and I was like "WOAH WHAT IS THIS BEAUTIFUL FORM OF ART I MUST HAVE MORE" 


It's like poetry that tells a drama and it's so beautiful to read.  So judge me all you will, uncultured potatoes. 


Now I must go read because I just got about 10 more books from the library and they have a deadline or I must pay money I do not have so BYE. 

Talk to me, humans.  Do you like books, too?  Have you read anything good lately?

Parasite

The pain grabs me by the temples and forehead,

Digs a long metal skewer inside of my brain.

I can’t say a word because no one else sees it.

I silently scream as the migraine takes hold.

 

The roaring it rises, it splashes, it slices,

Eating away at my brain and my eyes.

I sit in my bed and I rock back and forth

And pray for it all to be over.

 

There’s a monster that’s feeding and raging and weeping

Inside of my head giving birth to its spawn.

The intruders they scream and they eat at my brain.

A living host to these parasites.  Please just kill me already.

 

I begin to regret all the things that I’ve done

And I haven’t done that this is punishment for.

All I can do is lay back and wait for

The monsters to gorge and drop off onto the floor.

 

There’s a drum going off I can hear its dull beat.

Or is that just my heart howling, sending

Echoes into the attic of my brain and my head?

It stirs the monsters into a frenzy.

 

My eyes they are gone, gnawed off at the roots.

The empty cavity of my head is trampled by feet.

I am helpless, the victim, as my brain is ripped out

And I wait for the pain to be over.

I probably should apologize for writing such morbid poetry....

I like visuals, what can I say?  I have to feel the words, see them, taste them.  They have to mean something. 

This poem was written as a rap, based on the Twenty One Pilots song "Migraine". 

However this poem took the whole headache idea a bit more seriously as I composed this based on an actual migraine I had the night before. 

But the beauty of poetry is that there are countless meanings layered behind the words.  You could take anything away from this. 

Because a kitchen sink to you is not a kitchen sink you me, okay fren?

Here's the inspiration for the poem, "Migraine":

Stay alive, frens |-/

Are you getting tired of Twenty One Pilots?  (Of course not, what kind of question is that.)  Do you like visual poetry?



Goodbye October and Hello NaNoWriMo

So I sort of accidently got sucked into the caffeine-filled nightmare that is NaNoWriMo. 


No idea how that happened.  I had such good resolves this year...I was going to get my school done and have a peaceful life and spend time with family and friends. 


But NaNo just laughed and said "LOL NOPE"


So here I am.

*whispers* Help meeeeee.


So if you do not know what NaNoWriMo is, it is National Novel Writing Month, in which writers attempt to complete a 50K word long novel within the 30 days of November.  Sounds fun, right?

Basically NaNo is a month of frantic typing, wrist and finger pain, sleep deprivation, hysterical laughing followed by hysterical crying, too much caffeine to be considered safe, and CHOCOLATE.


I present to you, an example of a NaNoer:

Yes, we're all quite insane and sad little people at the end of the first week. 


We spend our waking hours frantically coming up with plots and dialogues for characters, screaming at people/pets/computers/characters for no reason, and wanting to kill every character in the freaking book. 


Are we okay?  No we are very much not okay.  Please leave us alone and feed us chocolate. 


So for my NaNo project, I'm going to try to finish "A Game of Chess".  At least the first draft.

Disclaimer:  I have absolutely no idea what's going on in this book.

I let the Plot run wild and now I can't control it.  Now it wants to kill everyone.  Like, everyone. 


No, Plot, we aren't going to kill everyone.  I want to keep some of them alive, thank you. 


So enough about NaNoWriMo. 


Remember Halloween?  Remember how I said I had an epic costume?  Well now you potatoes get to see it.

Blurryface

Yep, I was Blurryface.  And yes, it was completely epic. 


My friends and sister and I terrorized our local mall in costume and it was so much fun.  Did I mention how much fun it is to go in public in costume?  I LOVE HALLOWEEN.  *shrieks*


Then this happened:

Because when you give me too much sugar, bad things happen. 


The best part about the Blurryface costume is that I can act like a legit 5 year old and it's totally okay.  Needless to say, I had a blast acting like a 5 year old. 


I sort of fell in love with my Capri Sun.  (Because you NEED a Capri Sun for this costume.  Need need need.)


And my backpack was the most DIY thing ever....I had a red backpack my grandparents had gotten me from Yellowstone National Park, so I just covered it with white electric tape and good ol' Sharpies, so voila!  Instant Stressed Out backpack for broke people. 


Well, NaNoWriMo calls.  I am already behind in my word count, so I must leave you now to attempt to catch up before the madness sets in.

Ta ta, minions.  Happy writing!


Here is my NaNoWriMo profile, if you would like to follow me there.  (Follow meeeee): http://nanowrimo.org/participants/eviloverlord


Are you doing NaNo this year?  Has it devoured your soul yet?  What did you dress up as for Halloween?  Did you have a fantastic Halloween?