So Friday was my birthday. It was fun I suppose. My dad came home for the weekend. He hasn't been with me on my birthday since I was 12. Mom and Dad took Addie and I to our favorite restaurant. Fucking expensive as hell, but celebration calls! I got about $400 so far from people, $100 of which Kilo gave me. Oh my God! I thought it was wayyyyyy too much but she's so cute and stubborn haha. I love her. I got Addie a huge water bong which I think is gorgeous even though I don't smoke. She freaked :) I didn't like supporting her habit, but paraphernalia is ALL SHE WANTED, since her bowl broke (in HALF, wtf?). She gave me a new iPhone case since mine tore up a bit. She got a new iPod because hers is the first generation MINI. That's an oldddddd iPod. And it barely worked anymore. The new one is purple and pretty. Mom and Dad bought me a gorgeous keyboard, but evidently there was something wrong with it so we are taking it back. I don't know how to play all that much on keyboard anymore, so Dad was like, "Hmmm. Well what can I get you? WAIT. Your laptop's fucked, I'll get you a MacBook."

O______O The MacBook has the Macintosh AND Windows operating systems on it. I don't know how, but it does; you can switch back and forth. Hasn't arrived though. We checked on my other one, and it's pretty much dead D: So sad.

I was totally set on getting a tattoo for my birthday, so that I did. I got it done at American Classic on Baxter Street in Athens, I get my piercings done there, too. Brian did my tattoo; he was the same artist that did Zak and Chris' and evidently, Will's brother's tattoo. I recommend him to everyone! Or at least that shop. Now I've always heard tattoos don't really necessarily HURT, they're just fucking ANNOYING, like an ant bite. They asked where I wanted it. Ribcage. "Now that's gonna be more like a scorpion bite," they said. Ugh. He drew up the stencil and that took a bit of a wait. The whole actual TATTOO process took about an hour, since there was shading, etc. When I was getting inked, people started coming in and the other artist's were all saying so surprised-like, "DOES THAT NOT HURT?!?!" I said no, it's just mainly annoying and I asked them why. "Well, the ribcage is one of the most painful spots to get a tattoo at because you are going over bone. When people come in here and get inked on there ribs they always fucking cry, but you're just laying there chillin'! YOU'RE TAKING IT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER!" I thought that was pretty funny.

I finished in the shop, picked up Will and Kirsten, and we went to FNM. My party is this coming Saturday, so I thought I'd just chill with people. Pretty much everyone was there besides Heaven, because she was moving the stuff into her new condo :( Becka and Carlos got in a HUGE fight while he was drunk and I felt terrible for Becka. They are better now though. We had a lot of fun when everything simmered down, but then I eventually had to go home. Lame. Only reason was because Dad was there. I woke up the next morning and my parents wanted to see my tattoo really badly. They love it! Especially Dad. He flipped with excitement and throughout the day kept asking, "Hey! Can I see your tattoo again?" about 17 times, haha. All and all, I had a good birthday. But the fun will mainly be Saturday, like I said. I can't wait.

By the way, Kilo's birthday is today! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <33333 ILY.

Here's a picture of my finished, CLEANED tattoo:



If you can't read it, it says "Mad Hatter" with Lewis Carroll's Mad Hatter hat that says "10/6". It's actually supposed to say "In this style 10/6", but the text was too small to tattoo on. Gets the point across though, so whatever. I suspect everyone knows the book Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll, or has at least seen the famous Disney film, but this is not why I got it really. This actually has heavy family, psych, and past meaning behind it. I didn't get it because I "liked the movie". But that is my favorite character in the book :D My dad's nickname for me is Mad Hatter (hence Maddie, get it?) and he uses it all the damn time. He is the main person who calls me it, but many others do as well. I also can tend to act like the character when I get into a manic state, since I'm diagnosed bipolar, so people tend to think I'm "mad", so the nickname is perfectly fitting. But those two Lewis Carroll writings are some of my absolute favorites, and I'm obsessed with anything having to do with them, so they also tie in. But yeah, this tattoo has so many different meanings. I adore it and am so proud it is my first one.

I had my life almost entirely planned out. Diagnosed bipolar patients need to have structure in their lives. Its imperative. I'm out of high school. I'm a college student now. I'm an adult now, whether I feel like it or not. I'm about to move out and be on my own. I've always wanted to live alone, just me and me fucking cat, where no one could intrude. But it seems that ever since you claim to have "fallen in love" with me, things are rapidly changing. You are creating this idealistic future for us. It's scaring me and, I fear, pushing me away slowly. I don't want this either. You must understand, my love, that we have not been together long. Fuck, I've been in YEAR long relationships. You seem to be getting a bit carried away.

We are different, you see? I'm in college, you're still in high school. I'm employed, I have a high scale medical job. I am mature. You are still but a child in the world. You are tied down. You are conservative, where as I am a free spirit and "belong" to no one.

I spiral out of control. I party too fast, too hard. I drink, I use, I abuse. I puke my guts out to look my best for everyone else. I'm not healthy in the least. I may look a tiny bit bigger than most eating disordered people because I'm taller, but if they could only see the number I am currently at on a god damned scale, they'd flip their shit. I weigh less than almost ALL of my eating disordered friends. I hear or look at their current weight and find myself slightly smiling because I know I'm less. I have a life expectancy. I have countless diagnosed psych disorders, a diagnosed borderline personality disorder that can drive us apart. Everyone knows I have cancer. Everyone knows I'm dying. Next, I have to face it. Does this not make you hurt enough?

It seems as though we are both dreamers and have high hopes, big ambitions-- but I am cynical, skeptical, and suspicious of the world and it's intentions. I have a horribly low opinion of human nature; no one ever does "good" just to "do good". Everyone is selfish, conniving-- a snake. You are the optimist, I am the pessimist. You can be overbearing and jealous of the men I hang around, where as I frankly could not give a damn about the girls you hang around. It seems you do not trust me. I am manipulative, and I know I'm good at it. I can get whatever I want if the situation calls. I'm impulsive. I hurt myself and I can hurt you, and that is what I wish to avoid. I already worry you too much it seems. I do not wish to worry you more.

So my laptop has crashed. I took it in to be fixed like last week? Still no call back. I'm suffering major withdrawals! Ha. I can't download any new music or check my MySpace, Facebook, email, WHATEVER like I used to able to D: I can't even use my iPhone half the time because everything has been timing out lately for some reason. I'm having to use my sister's old desktop. Sigh. So I apologize that I can't update as often to the people that actual read my [sometimes] pointless points.

My birthday is this Friday, and Kilo's is Sunday. We're throwing a bash next week; combining our parties, inviting a bunch of hooligans. Should be chock full of shenanigans. I'm going to spend my ACTUAL BIRTHDAY just getting a tattoo or something, maybe another piercing, and I suppose just going to FNM to see friends. My dad is coming into town [I think] Friday afternoon, leaving Sunday morning. Ohnoes *anxiety attack*

My results for my latest personality test came in. I'm not going to say which one I took for privacy reasons, I hope you understand. Sorry. I hate all my results :( even if they are all true. It was just different having them all written down right in front of you on paper and seeing it from a bird's eye point of view. Almost in a different light. As everyone knows, I'm already diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, but I found out the other day I have to RETAKE two of the main tests out of the four that can diagnose a person with the illness. Why? My psychologist and psychiatrist feel its gotten extremely WORSE and almost out of hand since I was diagnosed a long time ago. They feel they need to "update" because they think and have noticed I've developed new symptoms, etc. Wow. That's so much money out of my damned pocket. But whatever. I'm used to psych and personality tests. Always have been. And that's not a good thing.

My friend from France, Giselle, is back in town. Hooray! She evidently got into heroin within the past couple of months. It was nice to see her again, and once she's done getting settled in, we're hanging out some more. She reminds me of Isabelle from the movie The Dreamers [appearance wise]; has that whole French glamour thing going on (thanks to Kirsten for letting me borrow that movie <3) Speaking of Kirsten, I hung out with her for a bit last night in an incredibly huge thunderstorm. I was pretty pissed that it was raining because the annual Perseid was last night. Any other night I would have loved it. It stopped for awhile, then picked up again, then stopped, and I thought I could at least see SOME meteors. But THEN the moon came out and the incredible brightness covered the sky, making it impossible to see anything *face palm*

I've been partying too much it seems. I feel as though I'm spiraling out of control lately. But I don't want to slow down. And I think I need more LiveJournal friends.

We'd found the secret glue that held all things together. In a perfect place, where the noise did not intrude, our world was so very complete.

"Here is the deepest secret nobody knows. Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide. And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart...I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart."

So yeah, I have a video on my YouTube account that has to do with eating disorders. I won't go to much into to detail on it. I'm used to mean and hateful comments all the time. They don't really phase me, but this one kind of...stuck out amongst all the others I had ever gotten or seen (since I have quite the "short fuse" if you will, for stupidity) :

"Fucking white people are so self absorbed and vain. This is not a disease, this is an attention seeking activity done to to evoke undeserved sympathy from people. No other race does this except for stupid fucking white people. All these videos are dumb, and only to pay tribute to glamorize self absorption. Backed by melancholy music, like it's such a tragedy. I'm such a victim, feel sorry for me. Well I don't, b/c your spoiled rotten and vain."

My eating disorder makes me self-absorbed? It's not a disease? Okay, so I haven't gone into cardiac arrest or had PEG tubes or been sent to the emergency room and been inpatient 364645 fucking times because of this? No, that doesn't make it a disease, NO WAY. Pfft. I only do this because I'm WHITE? Well aren't you a little racist. The psychology courses I'm taking online to get credit hours state, and through my own damned research for my writings state that different cultures and races OTHER THAN WHITE have the MAIN problem with eating disorders. Yeah, we don't see it because the majority of the United is Caucasian. Ever notice how African-American women seem to have just a bit more weight on them? Who wouldn't want to get rid of that?

Okay, so I'm spoiled, rotten, and vain because of certain things in my past and present that you, sir, have no clue about, that has caused me to be in the grip of a horrid disease that evidently only "stupid fucking white people" can get. Hmmm. Well that makes perfect sense. Fucking idiot.

So in the state where I live, there are many chain pharmacies, and in Atlanta they are so huge you could get lost. Upon receiving a generous payment for a painting I did for a guy awhile ago, I decided to use some of it to buy myself some new diet pills, because the SlimQuick I had is finally running low. When I finally found all of the dietary supplements, laxatives, etc., I walked up planning to spend my time looking through all of the options finding the best one because I'm not that keen on SlimQuick. But when I got there, I was extremely taken aback to see a girl already posted up, sitting on the floor with Stacker 3 in her hand, scrutinizing the facts on the bottle, hanging out like it was an aisle in Barnes & Noble. I watched her for a minute, she was unaware of my presence, and this girl was skinny. Probably would be taller than me upon standing, but it was obvious we were both there on the same agenda and I was dumbfounded. She put back the Stacker 3, and took out the SlimQuick box to look at, and I reached in over her shoulder and grabbed the Stacker 3. She turned around and made eye contact with me and gave me the eyes up and down, and after taking in my body type, looked back up at my face. We gave each other the saddest of smiles and continued back to scrutinizing our pill bottles. It was fucking weird. I wanted to tell her she shouldn't be buying them, that she didn't need them, that she was beautiful and fucking tiny, but who the fuck am I? That would be such hypocrisy. We made that connection at that moment that any communication would be utterly pointless and that is why I snatched that Stacker 3 and high-tailed it. I'm not a guru, I am not a savior. I'm just a fucked up, confused little girl with an eating disorder. However, I do not feel little. I feel old. And I have to admit that it was kind of bitter-sweet to see another human who was most likely in the same situation. It was scary, it was only a second, but it was like lightning.

Anything can be beautiful in the right light, but nothing can be beautiful alone. Everything is dependent on one another to give humans perspective and opinions. The outlook of an object's beauty is in the eye of the beholder. To see beauty, the beholder must have an open mind, for his or her surroundings are ever-changing with time. Do not purposely conform to the ideals and views of others. Imitation is suicide. You are a unique soul. When you conform to societies in order to be well-liked, you have killed your inner voice. If you are someone who doesn’t have the courage of your convictions, then you are nothing.

Humans are born with such potential, but inevitably all become the same. Naturally, humans are introverts, not assertive, but in order to have your own ideals, you must trust yourself. You cannot trust others until you trust yourself, and without trust, you will never be able to form your opinion of the ideals of others. We should try to be less materialistic. We do things based on monetary results, accomplishing anything in order to obtain wealth. What humans don't realize is that the more we own, the more we have to take care of, and the more we have to worry about whether or not it is going to make ourselves happy or impress others. We've sold our souls to worrying about obtaining material wealth, and we don't treat one another with the tenderness and kindness that we treat our possessions. You only get a certain amount of life and you're going to spend it doing something that does not ennoble you and make you happy? Don't trade your life for the rat race. Luxuries hinder the mental evolution of mankind. It's a never ending cycle of trends that never brings someone infinite joy. I myself am making my choices. No one can make them for me, because in my opinion, learning the essential facts of life first-hand is experiencing life itself, and I'm not going to stand aside, oblivious, and let it pass by.

Mistakes are not what defines you. They define how you have changed and what you have become. You are constantly changing. Personally, I'm in too big of a hurry to grow up, and in my mind, I already believe I'm mature enough. But my mind is an odd place. The past year of my life is easily labeled as one of the most painful and dramatic periods that make up my existence. Many bad decisions, lost lovers, uncovered secrets, forceful interventions, and emotional trauma occurred as though they were assigned in some sort of pattern. It's like I can never seem to catch a break. Sometimes I regret my bad decisions, but in all, I don't think I'd ever take them back. They have made me who I am today, I suppose. They have made me strong. They have made me wise. They have made fate bring people into my life who I would never give up. They have made me who I am today. And despite of the tears that had been shed and all of the rules that have been broken, in the end, that is all that really matters.

Life is what inevitably happens while you are too busy making other plans. Summer is a time when the days are long, the nights cool, the breezes warm, and time passes most quickly. It's a fact. I don't care what scientists say; what watches say; or what is logical. Time passes most swiftly when summer is here. The older you get, the faster times flies-- and summer just proves it to you. In the summer, I feel the sad and reminisces of the summers prior. Faintly visible images, difficult to discern, yet as real as the ground upon which I walk, appear and disappear in my mind, triggered by certain songs, aromas, and action. I try hard to capture and savor them, but I cannot fully enjoy them or truly experience the sadness within them, for they are just fleeting fragments of one person's past. My past. And trying to recapture moments from the past is like trying to capture the wind in a bottle. Just when you think you've captured it, you realize it is gone. As if you never really had it to begin with.

This summer season, I am certain, will be more fleeting than any before it. Each day I promise myself that I will take more time to enjoy each day; take time to enjoy the sunshine; and enjoy each simple summer activity. I hope I'm not the only one who notices this. But many times, I have not noticed it or many other things that have come and gone in my life. Now when I try to remember, all I see are faint watermarks; vague, transparent thoughts of past experiences and days and seasons that have come and gone. Will I really take the time to enjoy this this present time of my life? I promise myself I will. But will I keep that promise or will I allow less important things to get in the way? I must promise myself that this summer, I will not be too busy making other plans to enjoy my life. I promise myself, but keeping that promise is another thing. Its about time that I start keeping my promises. It is about time I learn from my many mistakes of the past. It is about time to live in the present, in 'the now'. It is about time. It is about time...I think of what makes me truly happy.

When all feels hopeless, you are loved more than you will ever know.

What's happening? Instead I feel my body deteriorating. I don't know. There it is again. I have to get rid of it. What do you do when you get so void that you want to explode? I just can't believe it sometimes. I don't want to. I just miss the feeling. I miss being excited. I miss waking up in the morning with a good feeling inside of me. A routine, and you don't care. I look around and I don't care. I'm not one to dwell, I would rather work to fix and do the right thing. But sometimes you get sick of trying, sometimes you get sick of trying to always do the right thing, sometimes you get sick of waiting, hoping. Sometimes you get sick of sleeping alone at night and thinking the 18765 thoughts over and over and over as you struggle to fall asleep. I feel like a machine. Everyone needs a reason to believe and sometimes I think that is all we have. You have to believe that it is going to happen, that you're going to take that next step and that the ball is going to come back to you. It could work out and you could say that you stood your ground, that you handled the bad times and came out on top. We all need something to live for. Something that will make us remember our old, forgotten emotions and strive to keep trying. My tired arms are outstretched, so long that my bones are almost breaking, but here you come with a smile that could send anyone to their knees. Tomorrow is a new day.

I was recently asked a question. All it was was a damn MySpace survey question that I was taking out of 4:30 AM boredom before clocking into work. This mere and insignificant little question made me think for a very long time: "Do you and your family get along?" I'll answer this now. There are 3 other members of my family.

My father - A severely abusive alcoholic Vietnam Marine war veteran with a horrid case of PTSD and major depression. Works in Afghanistan. Sometimes in Germany, presently in Reston, Virginia, where the Ebola-Reston, a level-4 virus, outbreak in 1996 took place. He will soon be moving back to either Kabul, Afghanistan, Iraq, or Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. He is not allowed to tell ANYONE what he does. My mother doesn't even know. A rumor once went around my sophomore year oh high school that he was in the Russian Mafia. He has a bulls eye shot on EVERYTHING, gun wise. And it doesn't matter what type of gun it is. He makes fun of every single one of my psych disorders; thinks they're a "sin" (he's Catholic). He believes in nothing "psych", thinks it's all bullshit. If I try to stand up for myself in this subject, he'll insult me or hit me in front of my mom. Mom won't do anything or defend me because she has no spine. He hates homosexuals and thinks I'm a full-blown lesbian because I have posters of Audrey Hepburn and the famous Pink Floyd pool poster on my wall. Even though I dated 2 guys, a year a piece, and with other relationships on the side means nothing in his eyes.

My mother - A therapist. Do you know how fucking hard it is to live with all of these psych disorders and problems and hate therapy, but have a therapist sleep down the hall from you? My mother, like me, is a pushover. She has no spine, no backbone, to put it ever so bluntly. When dad is home, mom will be explaining psych stuff to me, then he'll be like "It's fucking bullshit! All of it's fucking bullshit!" Then they'll fight, blah blah blah. He may hit her once or twice, I don't know. if I get in on it, he'll hit me. But since she has no spine, she won't stand up for herself. My mother never notices a damn thing I do. Ever. When I don't eat. When I binge. When I purge. When I don't take my pills, injections, patches, etc. When I need to go to the emergency room. WHENEVER. She focuses all of her attention on our damn dogs and my sister. My mother cares for those dogs as if they are her own oxygen (even though you don't really care for that haha). I think its because she's lonely because my dad is away. Truthfully, I'm jealous of those dogs, really I am. I feel so alone in the world and they get so much attention from her. It isn't fair. She's started drinking more and more on a daily basis as well as a form of self-medication. She lets my sister get away with anything she damn well pleases and always takes her side. For instance, if my sister were to shoot me in the stomach with a gun, I'd say "Hey Mom, can you, like, you know please do something about this?" She would respond no. I'd ask why. "Because you shouldn't have been in the way," or some odd response like that. "Don't blame everything on your sister!" She stole my cancer pills and panic attack pills to get high and sell to friends. Thanks for taking my side, mom. Appreciate it! :)

My twin sister - Twins? Heh. More like aliens.
Me: Thinning, wavy red hair (WHICH IS ABOUT TO BE SHAVED OFF). Hazel eyes. 5'6".
Her: Thick, curly brown hair. Brown eyes. 5'3" (a legal midget in Texas).
We look nothing alike. Futurnal twins.
My sister is a drug addict. a pothead. a stoner. a junkie. a tweaker. a crackwhore. a meth head. she's always high. she wil do anything to get high. she smokes in my car and stinks it up. she wastes my gas going on drug runs, then doesn't reimburse me for it. her friend's think that the medicines she takes have a psychoactive effect and she'll sell them to them to gain popularity and money. the people will come to me and be like "Dude, your sis just sold me some *_______* and I'm sooooooo fucking high!!!" I know my pills. It won't make you high you dumb whore haha. She cuts for attention. She steals my panic attack medication and cancer medication. Her boyfriend stole my boyfriend's medication out of my car which through a series of events landed him in a hospital. She got the munchies really bad the other day. I came in the house from doing something. She came at me with a knife. Why? She thought I stole her chocolate. She owes me money. She steals my money, lighters, amongst other things of mine. She stole one of my guitars and tried to pawn it off. my mom is at work all day and my sister steals the other car and decides to stay 2 hours away so i never have a car. i have errands to run! things to do! stop hoarding the fucking car and give someone else a chance who needs it. there is so much more to this but i don't feel like tell you people.

so i guess the answer is no.
and next time you think your family life is bad, think twice.
most people consider a "bad family life" having an immature little sibling getting on their nerves and not getting their way about things. GROW UP.

Written in April '09.

I am in love with two boys...one for his emotions (personality, etc.) the other for his appearance (on top of his amazing voice and music skills). I wish they were one person. I love one of my best friends. Marrying him would make me happy until the end of eternity. OH WAIT. Jay effing kay. I love him, but I need physical satisfaction as well. I am just that shallow. But just think about it for a second. I know you all have stopped and seen a hot girl/guy on the street and thought about them, said to your friend beside them, "Man! They're hot!" You've tried to pick guys and girls up in clubs. Why? Not because you like them for them. No-- they're hot, that's why. You couldn't date someone you couldn't even glance at. You wouldn't want to lie to someone to their face about how handsome they are or how pretty they are. You couldn't make love to someone you aren't truly enthralled with, can you? My point exactly. You need attraction, that true spark. But also, you need t.h.e.m.

POINT: It is never really true when people say, "Oh I mainly just look for personality in someone..."

WARNING: Maddie isn't on ANY of her mood stabilizers, is working the graveyard PRN Patient Rep shift (stupid Greene/Morgan County people galore! yay!) and is off almost all her cancer meds and is in extreme pain. Deal with the truth bitches, I need to rant. Sorry for any typos.

Don't ask me to be your damn chauffeur anymore, kay? Sorry to be a royal BITCH, but learn to drive, don't waste my gas, and get your damn license. Yeah I know, a lot of my friends have been failing their tests lately and I have stopped to count how many friends have. GODDAMN. Its a shit ton. SO MANY of my friends fail. Don't even make the excuse anymore about the location you take it in. I think its just because you can't fucking drive. Just practice more. You should get it. And if you don't, that's YOUR BAD. DON'T GO BLAMING ANYONE ELSE. It's no one's fault but your OWN. I'm not gonna be driving your asses around anymore. Need a ride? Pay up. And I don't mean like two bucks. What the fuck is that gonna get me? It's wear and tear on my damned vehicle! I have to pay to change my oil and rotate my damned tires every 3,000 miles, so if I'm driving you kids all over fucking creation, I better get something out of it. I'm through being a pushover. Sorry. NO WAIT. I'm NOT sorry. Not. One. Bit. Fuck you.

Thank you for being there for me guys. I asked you to tell me if anything happened. "Sure thing," you all said. "You sure?" You all promised. It did happen. I'm sure it happened days and days ago. But I had to find out on my own-- last night actually. You didn't say anything. I had to find out through Facebook. That caused me to have a massive panic attack AT THE HOSPITAL WHERE I WORK WHILE WORKING and they had to admit me because the doctors were so damn worried about me, and I wouldn't tell them what was wrong. DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING THAT IS?! Thanks for having my back, guys. Sure damn well appreciate all you do for me in my many times of need ;)

I'm borderline. I'm also rapid-cycle bipolar one. Yes, yes we all know that good and fondly. Both can cause you to be promiscuous. Both together can cause it to pretty much doubled. I'm not going to sugarcoat the fact that a shit ton of people like me. They think I'm hot-- I get discounts for wearing low-cut shirts in public for Christ's sake. A lot of people want me. Many people would kill for a chance to date me. Personally, I do not understand why, but evidently, they do. IF BY SOME DIVINE GRACE, I end up "hooking up" with you, whether it be because of borderline or R-CB1, or maybe I was kinda into you at the time (might not be likely if you live in my area), I shall normally trust you to keep it on the "down low" if we are not dating, know what I'm saying? However, if you go and start telling my FRIENDS about it...it doesn't even matter if it was ONE PERSON-- I don't give a shit how many people, YOU FUCKED UP. YOU. FUCKED. UP. BAD. You ruined your chances with me f.o.r.e.v.e.r. if you liked me. You once had my trust, but you blew it. I kinda did have feelings for you, but hey? Guess what? They're shot to hell now, aren't they? I thought we understood each other? I thought you respected me?! I guess you never did. I thought you were different...

Summer came, the start anew. But now the leaves are changing, and so are we...

Everyone is fighting. Everyone hates each other. What happened to all of us? Summer brought us together. It was supposed to be a time when all of us could be together as one. I was over the worst. High school was over. College was just around the corner. My fourth novel was about to be on shelves. Hardships brought us together, into each others minds and into each others worlds. Hardships tore us apart. AthFest brought us together. But I' thinking AthFest tore us apart. I'm not sure why it always goes downhill. Lust quickly turned to love, that quickly turned to pure hate and anger. This pain that I'm feeling is nothing new. I look on Facebook every day and night and see status updates of heartbreak and love, joy and disgust for one another. People wanting to run away from the ones we love the most, then wanting to see each other again so badly, like it's the latest craze of a fucking drug. People are lying and dying, making up and breaking up. "I think love got hit by a truck a while ago for some people." (-Zak) I mean shit. In high school, I was in the thespian society and drama club but d.a.m.n. --let's let go of this.

It's summer! We should be currently loving our lives and living out loud, not fucking hating every damn near second. Where's the love? Wanting to dream, wanting to live, wanting to wake up in the morning and smile and see each other smile. I want to see you all smile. I want to see each and every single one of you be happy and live your lives to the fullest possible. I want to live out the rest of my short days seeing your beauty.

"cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend..."

It's a little after 4:30 AM. I don't care what time LJ says it is. Hannah doesn't have too much longer. At 12:30, we are going to Winder to euthanize her. Her cancer just got too bad. We didn't want her to suffer. She can't walk. She can't enjoy life. I look at her and I know I'll be like that one day. I'm losing my mind. All of my friends love her like they do their own dogs-- Teskey like Blackberry, Zak like Angus, etc. This is terribly depressing. Dad isn't even here to say his last goodbye. He wasn't here when we had to put Harry or Davis down either. FUCK, I'm crying so damn hard I can barely identify the letters of the keys. I keep having to go back and correct my typos. If I make a mistake, I'm sorry in advance guys. Its embarrassing being a writer and going through this, but still making a typo. I think i'm putting too much pressure on myself. After all this stuff with Hannah is done and my psych college course is done (which will not take long at all whatsoever) I'm hoping a plane to D.C. by myself to go see to Holocaust museum and get away. Either that Or Minneapolis. I dunno yet. Haven't decided as of yet. I just need to leave. To many people are wanting me here and wanting things of me and I can't please everyone. What's bad is I want to pleas everyone and I've never really done what's made ME happy. MADDIE HAPPY. :(
I hate it. I wanna be happy on my own terms, and no one's terms but my own for once, ya know? I want to be able to choose. I really wanted to live in a really cold climate, like Minneapolis, be on no mood stabilizers or panic attack meds, etc.-- not eat, be so fucking bone thin and skinny, and live in such a free spirit. Not settle down, maybe go into a bar, different guy every night promiscuous one-night-stand life kinda life, ya know? A manic borderline life. That's the life I wanted. I wanted a manic life. I wanted the life of one of my favorite authors, when she was kinda happy and where she got most of her inspiration from. But the other part of me does want to settle down. I don't know. God help my mind. If He can even find it...




"We met it seems, such a short time ago. You looked at me, needing me so. Yet from your sadness, our happiness grew. Then I found out, I needed you, too. I remember how we used to play. I recall those rainy days. The fire's glow that kept us warm. And now I find, we're both alone. Goodbye may seem forever, farewell is like the end. But in my heart's a memory, and there you'll always be..."

"And we'll never miss a party cause we keep them going constantly. And we'll never have to listen to anyone about anything, cause it's all been done and it's all been said, we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get."

Look below to the box where the information to this Livejournal is contained. What am I listening to? What are the tags? Where am I? Is there any adult content? Can you leave a comment? Above all, WHAT IS MY MOOD? HOW AM I FEELING? I think its actually been the same now for the past...what? Three? Four days now? Lonely.

It does not make it any better that all the music I prefer to listen to is all depressing. Jon Foreman, Brand New, Coldplay (I only enjoy their depressing stuff), etc. It also does not make it any better that I do not sleep. I'm not nocturnal like some people. I mean hell, I have a job. I work in a hospital. My phone is never off. It is never on silent. If anything, its on vibrate, and that's when i'm in a movie theatre or a class or a doctor's office or...something. People can get in touch with me 24 hours, 7 days a week, nights, weekends, ALWAYS. You never ever have to ask yourself, "Oh I bet she's sleeping..." NOPE. I'm up! Yet no one ever seems to contact me. Ever. Unless they want ipecac or drugs (THE LEGAL KIND!!!!! BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS THAT MADDIE IS A WALKING PHARMACY!). Hmmphh. -crosses arms forcefully- People only want Maddie for her impeccable knowledge. Hmmm. Feeling lonely is horrid. I don't know what I'm going to do when I move out, because that date is soon approaching. Very soon. Because I can't live alone. I'm borderline. Do you hear me?! FUCKING BORDERLINE. And I hate to say it, but my mom isn't going to want me to want to live alone. She is going to want me to have a friend or a boyfriend/girlfriend living with me or something to watch me. That's pathetic. WATCH ME. make sure I take all my medicines. Don't hurt myself. Don't kill myself. All that jazz.

Evidently, Wayne split up with his girlfriend today. Hope he's not too terribly bummed. I've been hanging with him a good bit. It's been fun. And now, for some very strange reason, I am so fucking tempted to get in my car and drive to the gas station and buy Skittles. I don't why. I'm thinkin' its because I keep seeing that "Become a Fan of Skittles" on Facebook page. Maybe? Yes. Woah. The room is spinning now. And this Livejournal's taken forever to post. That is all.

"Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. I will try to fix you."

I'm pretty fucking manic right now. My massive amounts of mood stabilizers aren't doing shit for me. So I'm going to be totally cliché and post a Livejournal about what's been going on in my fully insane but at the same time boring as hell life! GASP! Wait. No. I'm not. Fuck that. I do that all the time. EVERYONE does that on their Livejournal. I'm going to post what I've been thinking and feeling. HA. Change for once. Chances are the one person I want to read this, will not read this. *snaps* Well, fuck my life! -smiles-

Have you ever been with a person you like in a car or a room, anywhere or something, and purposely put on a song-- the song's lyrics portraying the EXACT feelings you have for that person, hoping they'll hear? Yeah, I have. Being single sucks. But whatever, right? Nothing good will happen to Maddie.

I hate how I'm probably never going to bring myself to finish my 4th book. "It could help a lot of people" is what several people have said. And my actual writing (not Livejournal stuff, rants, etc.) doesn't halfway suck I would like to think.

I've been thinking about one of my favorite songs ever. The song "Yellow" by Coldplay refers to an old girlfriend that the lead singer of the band once had that had a horrid bout of anorexia. It was, at one point, so bad that she became jaundice and her skin literally became yellow. He stayed with her through her entire fit with the disease until she recovered. He never stopped loving her. Lyrics from the song are amazing-- things like "Your skin, oh yeah your skin and bones turn into something beautiful. Do you know, you know I love you so? You know I love you so." / "For you I'd bleed myself dry." It sucks. I wish I had someone like that with me, or for me, whichever. Someone who wouldn't dump my ass because I had the disease, you know? Someone who'd just have faith in me and help me through it.

Maddie is tired of hearing about Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter and the fact that Tim Burton is going to ruin Alice in Wonderland >.> That's my childhood movie, man! (Wow, I sound like a damned pothead, hmmm...) The Mad Hatter is a neurotic-borderline-psychotic riddler. Johnny Depp can't pull that shit off. Johnny Depp was good in Pirates, Edward Scissorhands, and Secret Window, but he won't be good in something based off two stories by an EPIC author and a kid's film! Tim should stick to claymation. That's what made him famous. I personally enjoy Bill the Lizard. WHICH LEADS ME TO ----->The Mad Hatter's Riddle: "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" When Alice gives up, the Mad Hatter admits he doesn't even have an answer himself. Lewis Carroll originally intended the riddle to be just a riddle without an answer, but after many requests from readers (apparently), he and others, including puzzle expert Sam Loyd, thought up possible answers to the riddle. One possible answer is "Poe wrote on both", a reference to Edgar Allan Poe, who wrote "The Raven". This, however, is merely an afterthought; the riddle as originally invented, had no answer at all. I didn't like that answer, personally. But apparently, 'NEVAR' is 'RAVEN' spelled backwards. HA. Lewis Carroll came up with that. I love that dude. I mean, I knew all the other stuff, I just didn't know about the usage of THAT. Yay. Love that kinda crap. I just can't wait to get my Lewis Carroll themed tattoo. It's gonna kick ass.

I reallyyyyyyyyyyy fucking HATE Facebook in the early hours of the morning. No one is online. No one talks. No one speaks. No one says hi. No one updates statuses. Everyone interesting has a Twitter, yes, but they don't update at 5:30 AM!!! >.>

HAH. The other day when I was admitted to the hospital, the doctor (whom I despise by the way -wink- FUCK YOU!) was going over my chart and he was like "...but you're on a migraine medicine," and I was like...no? Apparently Topamax (one of the 4556284376582 mood stabilizers I'm on, is used to treat Sporadic Hemiplegic migraines (the worst possible diagnosable migraine you can get, which is what I have. Duh. People normally result to narcotic inections (like Nubain! HA!) to relieve them because NOTHING ELSE WILL WORK.) It confuzzled me for a second.

I miss you. I'm manic. I like to talk and say that I miss you and say Hello!! and that I miss you when I'm manic. I miss people. I miss society. WAIT. I hate people. I hate society. What happened to me? Ohnoes. Wait. Who do I miss? You? Yeah. I'm manic.

So...well, yesterday, I fell asleep at the computer at work while waiting for the charge nurse and my coworkers to finish giving report. I was listening to my iPod-- Jefferson Airplane's album was playing. That might have been a mistake. A bad mistake. But it made me have one of the coolest, weirdest, best, funniest dreams EVER. What happens? Let's read on...

In reality, when I left work, I was supposed to hang out with my friend Dvano. Dvano works with computers and has a MacBook. He LOVES that MacBook. Fucking LOVES it. Well, in the dream, I was not at my actual house. I was in a mixture of M.C. Escher paintings. The "Relativity" painting and the "House of Stairs" painting. In the front yard, there was a massive amount of grass, like it hadn't been cut in ages. In the yard was a huge stone basin, like a horse would drink from. Well, Dvano shows up, so I think he's off work. We're trying to think of shit to do. All of a sudden, Dvano drops his MacBook into the basin, grabs a sledgehammer, and starts beating the shit out of his MacBook as I watch in horror. It was at that point that I realized that this was one fucked up dream. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!" was pretty much all I could yell. "Uhhh, working," was his reply. Hahaha. And all of a sudden, a HUGE ASS snake comes slithering out of the basin. It reminded me of the basilisk from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Except it was a bunch of different shades of green. It was a gorgeous snake. But somewhat scary. Yeah. Anyway, we went into the house (which I remind you was like the Escher paintings) and we were trying to figure out something to do while walking up the stairs and walking down the stairs (AND WALKING UP THE SIDEWAYS STAIRS! HA! gotta love Family Guy), but the entire time, the snake was following us for some reason. The entire time I was kinda bitching at Dvano for not killing the snake because I was weirded out by it. He just said to go get an axe out of my dad's tool shed and kill it. So I had to walk down ALL THOSE DAMNED STAIRS and to a tool shed (which was locked, so I had to spend about 7 minutes trying to open that shit up) to get a golden axe, then walk BACK UP ALL THOSE STAIRS to find Dvano sitting in a chair with the snake beside him. His pose and posture kinda reminded me of something straight out of The Godfather. Yeah anyway, the snake was hissing at me like a motherfucker, and I chopped his head off, releasing Pandora's Box into the world. WTF. Hahaha. To better understand just how trippy this dream was, imagine this dream being played to any Jefferson Airplane song, maybe more along the lines of "White Rabbit" or something.

NOTE: While writing this, a roach of some...sort just ran full speed across my laptop keyboard. WHAT THE FUCK RIGHT??? I'm just on my massive amounts of mood stabilizers at the moment, so I doubt I'm hallucinating. I don't get my Nubain pump for about another month or so. Hahaha -takes cover in the guest room-

It's a little past 2:30 AM. Earlier, I spent three and a half hours driving around Athens, Madison, Bishop, Bogart, and Watkinsville. I needed to get the fuck out of my house for some unknown reason. I didn't know where the hell I was going, I was just going. But now I'm home. I finished Superbad, now I'm listening to South Park in the background. A couple months ago, a posted a series of "I have come to realize" rants. Well, it's been several months. And knowledge is gained daily.

1. I have now come to realize that in my mind, I'm thinking of leaving Paul Rudd for Jon Foreman. I have not yet decided ;)

2. I have now come to realize that my friend can be blind. He is still hung up on this girl living a state away. She oddly is similar to me. She has red hair, and has almost all the same piercings as I do. But her face is hideous. Let her go, man!

3. I have now come to realize that I want to punch Fran Drescher in the throat sometimes late at night. Who wears a dress completely centered out of candy?

4. I have now come to realize that it's not a good idea to give Maddie access to the internet while on massive amounts of the highest dose of Ambien.

5. I have now come to realize that I don't know why I ever wanted to be nun up until the ninth grade.

6. I have now come to realize that meth heads ruin everything. Especially friendly neighborhood eateries. What the fuck.

7. I have now come to realize that unfortunately, I can be the jealous type. And I cannot BELIEVE I'm admitting it. But I suppose I must eventually. It's not the bad kind. Its just...sometimes? Fuck. See? I don't even know.

8. I have now come to realize that Bradley Cooper is fucking gorgeous.

9. I have now come to realize that having a Twitter account does not necessarily mean I follow (hahahah pun!) a trend, it may just mean I'm cooler because I can legally stalk Jon Foreman :) Or whoever else.

10. I have now come to realize that I can never, ever date a person with anger problems or who self-medicates with alcohol, especially while angry. That would be like dating my father. I've actually known that for years, I just felt like it needed to be said.

11. I have now come to realize that I hate it when people are trying to count out money, and you try and help them and then they get all pissed and yell at you. "WHAT THE FUCK DUDE YOU MADE ME LOSE COUNT!!" And then in my mind, I'm thinking, "Well excuse me for helping you. Now that you yelled at me, you made ME lose count. So now we both have no clue where we left off, and now you're going to have to start all over again...by yourself."

12. I have now come to realize that its quite terribly frustrating to have 437623874623 men (women, too) like you at one time. Flattering, yes. But hard to keep up with.

13. I have now come to realize that not having a father on Father's Day sucks.

14. I have now come to realize that I miss how things used to be.

I'm not quite entirely sure why I posted this. Boredom possibly. And I couldn't think of anything else to post about.

"So blood is fire pulsing through our veins-- we're either writers or fools behind the reigns. I've spent ten years trying to sing it all way, but the water keeps on falling from my eyes. And heaven knows, heaven knows I tried to find a cure for the pain. Oh my Lord, to suffer like you do, it would be a lie to run away."

Many people are aware of what happened in February for me. It wasn't, well, all that "fantastic" of a time for me. A 1013 and two ER visits are never good (it's pretty embarrassing when that happens to a psych CNA and you're being tended to by your very own coworker friends). I'm not sure why it always goes downhill. I didn't have control anymore. Sometimes not being in control is the most beautiful thing in the world, but at that point in time for some reason, it was not. I was so focused on everything negative going on around me-- the bullshit with trying to maintain my mental stability, with two people who don't even deserve to have their names mentioned by me, my graduating credits and possibly not being able to graduate, my entire college fund being embezzled, both Hannah and I's sickness, etc; that I did not even take the fucking time to see what good was in my life, and I had so many fantastic things.

Several people know that I've been extremely sick these past few days. I won't go on mentioning exactly how or why, but I had to go to the emergency room. They gave me Phenergan, which I'm totally used to. It's such a common drug. They then gave me three Nubain injections. Not that well known of a drug to most. What's Nubain, Maddie? Well, imagine Dilaudid, Mepregan, Morphine, Fentanyl, and Demerol all in a syringe. Now imagine getting three of them straight into your hipbone. When I left, according to my mother, I had a brief psychotic reaction to the drug. She was furious. I think it was because it happened in public, and I "embarrassed her".

Anyone ever seen Hannibal Rising? Well, then you are probably familiar with the scene where he shoots up to remember what happened to his little sister. That drug made him remember. Nubain is like that. I was pretty much unconscious, but still thinking about how much I ruined people's lives during that time in my life, pushed them away when they were only trying to help me. I fucked up. Bad. I was so selfish. I would do anything for a time machine, to make things back to the way they were, because that's what I miss. I keep telling myself however, that I seem to be wanting something that one would want in a fairy tale. Well, I'm sure as hell no princess, because they always get what they want in the end, even if that thing is impossible. I miss the people I had in my life, the ones that were there on a constant basis that are now fading or gone. Seeing my mother get MAD at me for something I couldn't help like that (it happens a lot, but I don't know why today was different, probably the drug perspective) made me realize it even more so. It honestly made me feel like the scum of the fucking Earth, like no one cared. But I realized I had that a couple of months back-- people who cared.

To everyone that was seriously involved in my life around the time of February - May, the ones I pushed away: you all loved me, and like a simpleton, I did not see. I was too caught up in my own damn misery that I did not see your hands being reached out to me. Those hands were there to pick me up, and shoved me away and tried to do it myself. No one can do anything by themselves. I've got some personal ones to give and make still, but until then, everyone who knows me well knows that I'm better through my writing. I miss being close to you. I miss having you in my life every day. I'm sorry.

So there's a brand new show on A&E. It's a docuseries about people with anxiety disorders (as well as other types of other psych problems). The unscripted series gives viewers a chance to see first-hand how a disorder or obsession can radically affect a person's life. Well, unfortunately, you're reading the blog of the first ever eating disorder episode "patient". However, the episode will not just feature things about EDs. If you know me at all, you'd know. But I'm still thinking about it. They reviewed my case and offered to pay me a crap ton of money if I agree to do it. They said they wanted a person with "years of being engulfed in the disorder". I guess they mean experience wise? haha well they damn well picked the right person. I've had an ED since I was seven. I'm almost eighteen.

Just a note--
I've had a number of people over the years, and today, every damn day actually, who ask me the same stupid thing: "Maddie, where can I get ipecac?" Here's your fucking answer.
I won't answer that question. Ever. Yeah, I know where to get it. It's fucking hard as hell to get. You need a knowledgeable person to find it. I refuse to be that person for you. If you truly, and I mean TRULY had an eating disorder or disordered eating, whatever you want to say to me, you wouldn't want this. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I'm so sick and tired of people who want to have eating disorders or wish they had the willpower to have one. You'll get sick of trying to disguise the sound of your own purging in a public bathroom stall, too, among so much more shit. A good friend of mine and I both have eating disorders, and there are so many fucking people that "ask us for advice" and such things. I'm done. I won't help you be like me. Fuck off and get a hobby.

I don't think to look for answers. I think because I miss my past a lot and I know its never coming back. People say they don't miss their past or they don't remember it. They're lucky. They can choose what can happen in the future. I would give anything, fucking anything for a damn time machine. I wish when people asked me what was wrong, I wouldn't hold it in and could find the words to tell them. I wish I could tell certain people what I wanted to tell them. I wish I didn't hold back on things or words. As I am reliving all of these memories, my heart is starting to fill with such despair. I'm making myself sick because I'm crying so hard. And because I am not who I want to be, this post will be terribly short...

You are my angel.
Such an uncontainable spirit that through you flowed into everyone you encountered. Everyday was your adventure, never settling for anything less, you lived your life to the fullest. You didn’t just live to live, but to live for purpose and always seeking for the meaning in life. You were meant to be free, and to fly like the angel you are to me. Never would I dare contain you, I lived to show you how precious you are. I will not say rest in peace, but rest in chaos. You were an agent of chaos, you liked it better that way. I will forever live loving you. Kolton, you are my angel, so fly for me. You are free my love.