Miscellaneous

another end. another beginning

I find it saddening how some of my teachers are uncomfortable discussing topics such as follows: teenage pregnancy, suicide, depression, drug and alcohol abuse, sex, and other "uncommon" things. Some of them would literally skip those chapters from our textbooks, or simply make us read them and take notes about it, so we can move on because "it's not something that happens on island".

WRONG. FUCKING WRONG.

These issues have nothing to do with demographics of a place, I live on a culturally strong island, but that does not mean the teenagers on my home are not going through these issues. Living on an island with a strong faith and religious practices does not mean that kids don't go through depression, that kids don't think about offing themselves, that does not mean kids don't want to fuck, that does not mean WE'RE ALL SANE, THEREFORE WE SHOULDN'T BOTHER DISCUSSING THIS IN THE CLASSROOM BECAUSE IT'S UNLIKELY TO HAPPEN. Because it happens, trust me, it fucking happens.

But, I don't want to write another rant in this book, because that would be such a shame if my final chapter is a rant. I want to write a little reminder to the 5 or 6 people that read the shit I write. I want to tell you how amazing and beautiful you are.

I want you to know that whatever the hell you're doing now is great (unless it's unsafe sex, STDs are real, wrap that shit up). Whatever mistakes you make the first time do not define who you are. The action you take the next time you face a similar situation does.

I want you to know that you shouldn't live for the sunsets, because you'll miss the goddman gorgeous sunrises. I want you to keep going. Because everyone goes through something that really ruins them, we may have different circumstances, but it's all the similar pain. And so many people before us have chosen to live, so should we.

I want you to know that nobody is perfect, we're all inclined to make mistakes somehow, but that does not deem you worthless. It makes you human.

When I started this book, I had no idea what I was doing. I had a crush of a boy, and it was awful. I wanted more than anything to be noticed by him, maybe impress him? Along the way, I realized that I didn't need to. Because I've got so much love from the people that are already in my life, and they like me just the way I am. This book, yes, became my form of release, and it's been really helpful to get all the crap out of my head, and kept away within the chapters of this.

Yes, I still like "orange juice", but I don't unhealthily obsess over his "perfection" anymore. I can see how flawed he is, and I like him for those.

Yes, I still think about killing myself every once in a dramatic while, but who doesn't? At least once in you're life, you're bound to be down in the gutter, looking at the stars (Oscar Wilde reference) and cursing fate. But keep this in mind: do you really want to die ugly? I know that's something vain to say, but it keeps me alive really. If I were to hang myself, I'd probably break the rope and bash my head and bleed all over the place, NO. If I were to cut my pulse, or main arteries, or wherever to die, that process will take a while, and from all that crying and feeling the burden of living and losing, I'll look so effin' stressed and wrinkly with ugly scars, NO. If I were to drink industrial poison, all my nerves would stop, and my face would cave in and the life in me would seep, damn, I won't even get an open casket funeral, NO. So, yes, I've been deep in the shits, but I get over it eventually, because I really don't want to miss out on what great shit might happen.

Having sex, and screwing up and getting pregnant does not make you a slut. A disgrace to your family, your culture, your heritage, your cow, or whatever the hell. Babies are creepy little sacks of life, they're blessings that come from a love at the wrong time in life. Your decision to keep the child will have a bright side. Your decision to get rid of it will benefit you. Either way, it's okay. You're not a bad person for having bad timing.

Yes, I still stay up terrified at 1am, but that doesn't stop me from getting sleep somehow. Trust me, you're okay.

Sure, I got self esteem issues. I fucking hate myself a lot, but shit, if a guy can tell me that he thinks I'm amazing, and funny, and kinda cute, then maybe I'm not so fucked after all. Even if he may just be lying to get to second base.

I want you to know that no one actually dies a virgin, because life fucks with everyone (quote from Taylor in Jackson, my other book), but at least you can say you've fucked somehow right?

I want you to know that you may not be as great as the next person at something, DON'T FCKING DWELL ON IT. My best friend is an amazingly hot dancer, meanwhile in my corner, I got my art in the bag. Chill out.

I don't know what else I'm going to say, so here's this:

I love you, even if I don't know you, trust me, I fucking love you. Keep going, there's always a bright side. Or at least another fucking optimist to show you the damn bright side.

Thank you, for reading my dirty, disturbed, troubled, angsty, girly, typical teenager thoughts.