Sad Chair

"My legs" 

This is Me.

Due to the current events of our pen names being exposed earlier this week, I felt obligated to write this post.

So what is my real name? In case you don't know, or you're too lazy to go look it up on the class list, I'll remind you. My name is Taylor Eastman.

For those of you who don't really know me, I'll tell you the basic facts about me. I'm a junior, I'm a Mormon, my parents are divorced, thus is the reason why I have a family of twelve. I'm almost 18 years old and as much as I look forward to Senior year, I'm even more excited to graduate so I can move to California for College. I have approximately a 2.9 GPA and I scored a whopping 18 on the ACT. I'm a decent student, I have a decent attendance record, and I'm never in trouble with any of my Teachers. I probably could get better grades if I tried harder, but that's the thing, I'm not good at trying hard enough.

But there's far more to me. I have facts about myself that aren't that basic, and not that many people know. I'm not sure where to start, but I guess I'll start with saying that I have a far from perfect relationship with my Mother. There are six different types of narcissism, and she can be classified as four of those six types. She left my family when I was twelve, because she cheated on my Father and thought that there was more to life than being a wife and Mother. (???????????) Well, Mom, yes there is more to life than being a stay at home Mom, but sadly, there's not much more to your life. For nearly six years she's had numerous shitty jobs, and refuses to pay my Father, the parent with custody, any child support. It's not like it matters though, my Dad doesn't need her money, but it's just the act of selfishness that gets under my skin. Although she's a pretty shitty Mom, she's still my Mom, and because she left, I've always felt like I wasn't worth much. I mean, you would too if your own MOTHER wasn't around, and in addition, always likes to comment on my weight, appearance, and GPA. I know I should move on, but it's harder than it sounds, because I am still hers and she is still mine. Because of her views on myself, I've always had lower self-esteem, and I'm sooo soooooo vulnerable to any little comment that anyone makes about me. It's partly because of her, and partly because of something that a boy said to me back in 8th grade. I know, I know, 8th grade, sort of pathetic right? But this was the nastiest comment, and it came from someone I was in love with. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have loved him so much if I wasn't so desperate for someones love, given that my family was going through a rough patch, but I couldn't help it, I loved him, and I thought that people did sexual things when they were in love, and I was! And he told me that he loved me too, but he was a liar. He saw how vulnerable I was, and just went with it. After months of whatever the hell that we had together, he broke it off by telling me that, "I was a fat cunt, and I would never find anyone better than him, ever." Ouch, right? I mean, boys are just mean, right? I should just brush it off and move on like everyone else right? Uh, wrong. My heart shattered into a million billion tiny pieces, and for a very long time, whenever I saw him, it felt like I was breathing through a coffee straw. So who is this boy? I mean I'm too good to say his name. Just kidding I'm not. Sorry, Caden. And if you know me well enough, or called me a slut back in Junior High School, you'll know which Caden it is. After that whole ordeal, it was safe to say that I felt completely worthless, and today, my paper heart did grow back, it's a lot stronger now, and has a fence of barbed wire wrapped around it. I haven't loved another boy since Caden, I'm too scared to let anyone penetrate my heart again, after everything it's been through. And if you thought that I was a slut, now you know the truth. I'm not a slut, just a sad little girl who wanted someone to love her.

I know that the last huge ass paragraph was not in anyway uplifting, but all of that has been on my chest for nearly 6 damn years, and needed to be released. My life isn't always negative, there is plenty positive and happy things about my life too. Unlike most girls, I have an awesome relationship with my Father, one that I in no way deserve. I have two amazing best friends too, and after everything we've been though, and my behavior sometimes, I'm glad that they are still here for me. It's just hard for them to understand that even though my heart is stronger, my skin is less thick. I'm insanely sensitive, and I really, really, wish I wasn't. I have a testimony of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and even though I kind of have a funny way of showing it, I owe everything to this church and my Father in Heaven. Nothing in my life brings me more Eternal peace and happiness, and I wish I was better at remembering that. I love education, even though I hate doing my homework. I love to learn new things, and occasionally, like to study. My favorite subject is English, and I hope to become either a writer or a Reporter one day, although I secretly have always dreamed of becoming an Actress, and have a hidden love for acting. I love people, and at school I don't talk that much, but I'm going to make it a goal of mine next year to be more outgoing and make friends with different kinds of people. If you get to know me, you'll know that I'm really funny and I like to make people laugh, and I love doing nice things for other people. It truly breaks my heart when people don't want to live anymore, because I know what it feels like, and lately have realized just how precious life is. I have a short temper, and I erupt easily and haughtily, and I need to learn to get that more under control. My language isn't always the best, but it is what it is, I'm not perfect. I've definitely learned to love myself more in the past year, and I hope to continue to more and more everyday. I want my first marriage to be my only, and I want to give my children the kind of Mother that my own never could be.

If you made it to the end, thanks for listening to what I had to say. It means the world, and I hope that you will all post more about yourselves; the real you, on your own blogs so I can get to know everyone better.

XOXO

Taylor

I've never been a fan of Poetry, until now

I'd like to start by saying, I've never truly been a fan of Poetry until Nelson.

Before I took this class, I had no idea that poetry could be fun. I've studied it for years in all of my English classes, and they are boring as hell. They're written by a bunch of dead guy who were either insane, depressed, had some form of a drug addiction, or was a pervert. I don't know others views, but to me, it's rather dull.

THEN, fortunately, I discovered the world of Slam Poetry. It's fun, exciting, and it's about real things that people actually care about. I went to SPFY the other night, and it was amazing. I didn't know that most of my peers were creative in that sort of way, and I had no idea that like myself, others wanted to hear.

Currently, my favorite poem is "To This Day" by Shane Koyczan
http://www.tothisdayproject.com/the_poem.html

I just think that this is such a beautiful poem. The first time I heard it, was when a kid on the Debate team performed in the Little Theatre at school. I can't help but get emotional when I hear it. I just love how real it is, it's about one man's story of bullying, but he's not making anything glamorous, or trying to tell a good poem, he's using real examples of things that happened, and I can't help to appreciate that. Although it's a sadder poem, he shines some light at the end and lets everyone know that even if nobody else can see it, you are still beautiful and have worth.

My favorite line is, ".... and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer, because there's something inside you, that made you keep trying, despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart, and you signed it yourself. You signed it, "THEY WERE WRONG."

Imaginary Friend

         

         People come and go... yet the moon always stays. 

                        "At 12 years old I stared bleeding with the moon." ~ Andrea Gibson

Andrea Gibson is completely correct. When I was 12, the moon made me bleed. At first, I was curious, I wanted to start bleeding, I wanted to know what it would feel like to bleed without feeling any sort of pain. Shortly after, I became familiar with the pain of menstrual cramps, and decided that if I was going to bleed, I'd rather fall down and scrape my knee. 

At 13, I liked to go into the backyard at night, lay in the grass, and gaze at the moon. Even though the sun warms the Earth and gives me a great tan, I've always liked the moon better. It's mysterious, dark, and sexual, and I've always liked that. 

At 14, my best friend lived down the street from me. Once in a while, she would call me upset late at night and ask me to come to her house. I'd sneak out my window, and go comfort her. We would take blankets and climb to the top of her roof and gaze at the moon. One particular time, she admitted to me that she was sexually abused by her Father during the day, while her Mother was at work. She said whenever it occurred, she would sit by herself and gaze at the moon, and it would comfort her. That was the first time I ever realized that the moon could comfort a human. 

At 15, I learned that the moon could comfort myself as well. I was going through many changes with my family, my Father had remarried and I was adapting to life with a step family. The first year was hard and awkward, and I was miserable all the time. I wanted things to go back to the way they were a year earlier. One night I got into a fight with my step mom. I didn't feel like dealing with it, so I went for a little walk by myself. I didn't make it very far when I collapsed and started sobbing. There were very few times when I had felt so lonely. I prayed that things would get better, and even though I didn't receive any Revelations from God, I looked to the moon and I was comforted. It made me realize that just like my step family, it was there for good, so I decided to make the best of things. 

At 16, I learned that the moon came with much sin. In high school, people were changing, instead of doing mischievous things like egging houses in large groups, people were smoke pot and do sexual favors instead. It made me feel uncomfortable, especially the drugs. I saw that people were transforming into people who didn't have bright futures, and I realized that it wasn't a type of lifestyle worth living. 

Now, at 17, I've learned to appreciate the moon in a way that I never had. It's a symbol of strength, mystery, and will never end. As a human species, things will change, and relationships will end, but the entire human existence can always count on the moon. 

Space Camp... Wherever it is and may be

I've put off doing this blog for a while... but since my grade is suffering I'm going to attempt it now.

I'm not exactly sure what Space Camp is, I mean I've actually been there once in sixth grade, and I hated it. It was a nerdy place where the advanced elementary students went for an overnight field trip, after they had raised enough money to go by selling scented pencils and beef jerky to their more athletic and popular peers, of course. Definitely not my steeze.

But this post is not about literal Space Camp, it's a fantasy place where all your hopes and dreams live. I know that none of my hopes and dreams will even come true until after graduation, so I guess I can explain my plans after graduation, I mean if anyone's even interested.

What will actually happen: Once I graduate, I'll move back to Southern California. I won't attend school for a year, instead I'll live with my Grandmother and get a job, in attempt to save money and become a resident of the state so that out-of-state tuition won't send me into bankrupcy. The next year I'll start attending Junior College and stay there for at least two years, and get all of my shitty general electives out of the way. Then I'll attend an actual University, to study what I want to get my degree in. In the meantime, I'll attend an LDS singles ward, probably get married and pop out a kid or twelve like any other Mormon girl.

What I'm hoping will happen: When I get out there, I can be noticed by an agent for either my talent, good looks or charisma and become an Actress and win more Oscars than Meryl. I'll marry some celebrity and become Kardashian wealthy. I'll be decked out in jewels, fur, and leather, and Fancy by Iggy Azalea will be playing when I step up in the hiz-house.

Not a very realistic expectation, but hey, neither is Space Camp.

At the end of the Day

                                   

I've never experienced death. 
But I've seen other things die. 

I know what it's like to murder a test.
                                                         If you ignore me, you're better off dead.
                                                                                                                      I've seen many marriages die. 
It was you who killed our friendship, not me. 
                                                                    It was YOU who shot my heart, not him. 
                                                                                                                                  
            & YOU ARE THE BACKSTABBER, NOT HER

My beautiful white shoes were drowned in beer at a $5 concert. 
                                                                                                 My clear skin was plagued with acne. 
My dreams died and got replaced by the new guy, Reality.
                                                                                                  I never asked for a new Mom. 
I never imagined that creativity could be so easy to kill.
                                                                                    I never thought I could miss you this much. 
It's not supposed to end like this.
                                                   It's not supposed to be the death of me.


                                                                                     But it's not over yet. 

A letter from me to you

Dear you,

Whenever I talk to you, I develop a massive headache. You sound like Kim Kardashian. I can't believe you dyed your hair blonde, you're not Beyonce. You look way too dressed up all the time. I mean, who honestly wears heels and leather pants to school? And WHAT is with the makeup???? You have a beautiful face, but all that makeup makes you look like a transvestite. Although you always look ridiculous, it's the personality that drives me insane. I've never fully understood why you always thought you were so much better than me. Not just me, but everyone. I get better grades than you by far. I remember going to your house in eighth grade and seeing straight F's on your report card. You're an awful singer, and an average dancer, so why do you think you have the right to judge everyone? The real question is, why do you still keep acting like nothing ever happened between us? Do you not remember three years earlier? You were my best friend, but best friends aren't supposed to make each other feel like shit. You told me that people only included me in conversations because they didn't want me to feel left out, not because they actually liked me. You said that boys didn't like me because my teeth were too crooked, and I wasn't beautiful like you were. You spread rumors throughout the entire school about how I was such a slut. Do you not remember how I confronted you? How you spit in my face, so I slapped you? I do. You were an awful friend, possibly the worst I could ever ask for. You may be beautiful on the outside, but your soul is ugly. We have nothing in common anymore, and a history of fighting, but you still have the decency to come talk to me about your 23-year-old boyfriend who's coming down to visit you from Seattle next week, and how much he loves you.

With love,
                Me

PS: This guy doesn't love you, he wants pussy.