(no subject)

I realize how lame I really am. I talk about my life, yet so very little information do I leak out. Why?  I know for a fact that since I've had this journal, I've had four boyfriends. I've expierenced trama, relapse and two hospitalizations.  I do not know who I am. I admit it.  I know what I want in life. I know what I need. I know what I am missing. But still I feel so damn emtpy I could just die. I'm angry. I'm unhappy. I'm depressed. I smile just to shut people up, and it works. So amazing how a simple smile can satisfy so many. I'm not happy with me. I'm not happy with my body. I'm not happy with my past. And I can't let go. I can't move on. I'm empty, an emptiness that I know will never be filled. I'm unhappy...something that will never fade. I'm 26 and when I let this shit out, I feel like that 9 year old girl who was told that she'd be okay. I feel like that ten year girl who found out that her best friend was a razor blade. I feel like that 11 year old girl who ripped apart her room everytime she was angry. I feel like that 12 year old girl who nearly cried each time her therapist changed her medication. I feel like that 13 year old girl who began to poison her body with anything to get a high. Not just a high, an escape. I feel like that 14 year old girl who felt ashamed after upsetting her therapist. I feel like that 15 year old girl trapped in a time warp. I feel like that 16 year old put into a psychiatric hospital. I feel like the young lady who tried to kill herself, who burns, cuts, screams, cries, starves, drinks, pops pills...all in the name of "feeling okay". Why does "feeling okay" have to hurt so damn much? In my head there is a film strip playing...constantly of the same bullshit over and over. It hurts. I hate it. Nothing goes away. I couldn't learn to live because I was too afraid. Now cutting, drinking, pills represent my pulse. My reason for going. All around me, I have a world so complete and happy...but it's nothing. It still remains nothing. I've been dead all of my life. I want to live. I want to be. I want to exist. But it has to be better than this.

Writer's Block: Your Username

Why did you choose your user name? Is there any special meaning or story behind it?

I need to update more and more and freaking more, but sadly enough my life remains a dull piece of nothing in this world. My relationship is coming to a year in Septemeber. My dreads will be two in September, and I'm still working on driving. I know how to drive at this point, I'm comfortable on the road, I just need to get in and take my test. My mom has a big part of taking the test, but at this point, it's not going to happen anytime soon....hate people sometimes, but that's another day another entry...


When I come up with any username, I try to make sure it equates to a part of me in some way. Pocketlighter. Pocketlighter. I like fire. I'm a pyromaniac. Although I do not see that as of being a  disorder, fire is calming. Relaxing. I don't smoke, but I always have matches or lighters with me. In the past I would burn myself, now that was an issue, but just seeing the flames can be as relaxing. Pocketlighter, if you know me a pocket lighter is like an identifier for me. Lame....I know, but there you have it.

And I'm free

Today is my lovely birthday, what can I say? Twenty-five years ago, the world was graced with my perfect presence. lol, just kidding. I would say that I was super excited, but with exhaustion, the excitment is not extreme. Staying up until 5am at a computer doing training/work was just not acceptable.

Lucky for me I'm going to a club later on for individuals 25+. I feel that I've waited nearly my entire life to get into this place, and now I can finally walk up to the door and walk in. It's kinda like a right of passage. The same thing when you turn 21, you flash your ID like a superior individual in order to get into clubs, pubs and even a glass of beer at a restaurant. Now, I'm going to flash that baby to get into this club...a new club, an unventured place. Sweetness. I'll probably be too excited to drink...nah, who am I kidding? I've been drinking consistently since yesterday. Lmao.

This year I'm not even going to be concerned with my friends who would rather celebrate 4/20, I have other plans.

It's a hopeless situation...


Out of all the frustration and confusion around here, I gave in. I gave in. Now I just want someone to sit beside me and hold me, someone who really understands. Someone who has to say nothing, but through that silence I know that they still care. I locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the fan, water and some music. I was feeling bad and with all the “peaceful” noise blocking out everything around me, I numbed myself completely. Convinced myself that I deserved the pain. I cut my stomach, my side and hip all on the right side. I felt nothing, but a few minutes afterwards my body began to shake and I could suddenly feel an extreme burning sensation where I had injured. I spoke with Aaron today, I brushed my side on the stair rail, I let out a quick sigh of pain, and he knew. He simply said, “Please don’t do that again.” And just like every other time, I told him that I wouldn’t. It’s so easy to say that and just change the subject. He never asks why. He never asks how, when or where…he just asks that I never do it again. When will that get old? Even though it was a simple demand on his part, I still felt so bad. He’s always so vocal and talkative, but it seemed that for a brief while I took away who he was. He seemed afraid and helpless. He changed the subject and started talking about going to a club this weekend. I smiled at the subject change, but inside I was angry. I wanted to talk; even if I made absolutely no sense…I wanted to talk with him, but nothing. This is the way it always is…it’s like when I need someone so badly, no one is there. I didn’t ask for anything…I just wanted him to listen to anything that I had to say. I'm feeling everything right now...it's the kind of pain that takes your breath away for a bit. There are few things that I'm good at, and numbing out pain is one of them. This time I want to feel it....I want to actually know what I've done.


I decided to stick around home. I don't know why. Is it best for me? No and yes. I called in yesterday for a training with this job that I"m seeking it only pays 8.25 an hour. If I pass the training, I'll have it. It's not enough, but I'll take it.
  • Current Music
    Pearl Jam: All or None

Can you hear me cry out to you?

"You are something special to me."

Ugh. The line is getting so damn old to me. If I had a half a penny for every guy that has said that to me, I'd still be a freaking billionaire. Just looking at that line makes me want to vomit. The funny thing about that line is that every guy who has said that to me, or something close to it are the same ones who end up be lame asses. Lack of respect for me, lack of respect for themselves and just pure mean and because of that, at this point, I'm confused as to what that line even means. Is it a cheap pick up line? It doesn't work like that for me. Special as in sex object special, is that it? I think so. The majority of these guys fail to realize that I am also a thinking object. In fact, I overthink. So after the first two dogs quoted that to me, I caught on, but I'm still hearing it. Is there something wrong with me?

From what I gather, the guys who say that to me:
1.) Expect me to put out, like immediately.
2.) Are obsessed with my breasts/ass.
3.) Are actually 28 years old and above.
4.) Clearly don't believe in personal space.
5.) Treat me like a prized object, in a very negative way.
6.) Are obsessive.

Well, it's old and I'm really tired of the line. In fact, if a guy says it, I'm at the point of just getting up and walking away. I can honestly see me getting married, and if my husband were to say it, I'd file for a divorce the very next time. In my head, you are special to me, sounds like "FIRE! FIRE!", and of course, when there's a fire, you haul ass.
  • Current Music
    My Chem: Black Parade

Time square can't shine as bright as you...

Yesterday, on a desperate whim, I attended a job fair. I have never felt so out of place in my entire life. The jobs that were in attendance were so freaking rude it made me sick. After being there only a few minutes, I was ready to leave, but I pushed myself to visit more booths. The visiting employers ignored people, they gave shallow information, and they just weren’t communicating well with people. The advertising for this job fair said that interviews would be given on site and resumes would be collected. People weren’t giving interviews, they weren’t even communicating with visitors. I brushed off the attitude and started asking if they were taking resumes, and I managed to give out ten to some reputable companies. I gave my resume, phone number and email; I’m only hoping they contact me. A lady offered me a job, cleaning a parking lot. I looked at her with my mouth open in complete shock. On the tip of my tongue I wanted to say, “You clean a fucking parking lot!” I told her that I have a college degree, and I do not know of any college grads who are cleaning parking lots. “Well you have to get your foot in somewhere.” I’m sorry, but I am not going to start that low with a $30,000 a year education. Come on.

I’ve emailed the president of the college that hosted the job fair. I told him that next year; a better screening of the companies needs to take place. The employers refused to even stand up to speak with you unless you mentioned that you held a college degree, once people realized that they were standing up, shaking my hand, congratulating me and all kinds of positive reinforcement, but I was still being offered no count jobs. I felt very welcomed by the staff of Wishard Hospital; the guy told me that I had more going for me than what was being offered at the job fair. He suggested returning to college for a master degree in special education/English so I could teach.

I went to the FBI booth for kicks. “You’d have to go through a boot training program for these jobs here…” I looked at him, “I’m not pointing at field jobs, I’m pointing to the list of office work.” He started laughing and said, “Well you’d be surprised at how fast people can run and if carrying a gun would be an issue with you, we do offer office work and in most cases they are the highest paying jobs…”

I am currently working with a survey company, still working through the training, but it’s not enough pay, and it’s not really what I’m looking for.

This doesn’t make any sense to me. People are far too careless. Moving from the Meadows to Amber Woods, a neighborhood no better than the Meadows, but in comparison it would appear to be A list. She felt that she was making the best of changes for her life and the lives of her three children, three hours later she’s murdered during a dispute that she wasn’t even involved in. She was seven months pregnant. I asked my mom how the baby was doing, in my mind it just seems unreal that the baby didn’t survive at seven months.
  • Current Music
    Hey There Delilah: Plain White T's

Seven months along...woot!

My dreads have grown a lot within these seven months, which is really not that weird because everyone's hair grows so much per month. They are officially at that teenager stage, and damn is it weird. That is what makes them a pain in the arse. I swear each dread has tightened up at a different pace, so my hair comes in all different lengths, so it's nearly impossible to get it up in a ponytail right now. I could, but it doesn't look decent, so I'm keeping my locs down. Once they reach a year I'm planning on adding color to them and maybe adding in some permanent dread extenders...they'll have more length, and I won't have to wait for them to grow, which means professional looking bun type hairstyles. I haven't figured out the color just yet, maybe a dark red or blond tips, which would look awesome. But the all over red may be the color that I settle for in the end. Copper Red by Creme of Nature. I don't want to take an extreme route such as fire engine red or purple, although I'd love to...maybe even add in some pink, but at this point it's really not my choice unless I end up with a badass job working from home....and I doubt that will happen. I've been told that I could have added color when they were just five months along, but I didn't feel that they were tight enough. Now it's seven months, and I know they are tight enough, but I still feel that it is too early. I can see me getting tired of the dreads in a years worth of time, so the hair dye and extenders will be a way for me to renew my style. Anyway, after my washing my locs today my sister said, "Um, it's time for maintanence." It's clear to see that she only likes the super manicured dreadlocks, personally I wasn't trying to take the professional dreadlock route, that can get pretty expensive. And when people originally had dreadlocks, trust me, they weren't manicured. I wash them every 3 days, palmroll once a month, add moisturizer and rip them apart if they begin to grow together. I wanted to keep them as free of hair products as possible, no wax, gel or pomade, just light natural oils every now and then. As far as I'm concerned, they look delicious!
  • Current Music
    Korn: Unplugged

Black flowers blossom.

It wasn't long, but I fucked up. Such a disappointment,one that I'll soon have to get over. Currently as I type this, I realize that for the first time in my life I honestly have absolutely nothing to say. Ha...speechless. Alcohol does that to me. I tend to lose all of my education and brain cells whlie intoxicated. It's hot as hell in here, but that could be because I've been drinking. I come to that conclusion because no one else is looking hot, even though they are wrapped up in their blankets. After having an "episode" and drinking, I just realized that I'm so fucking relaxed that I could accidentally die right now. I'm shallow. Ha. I thought I was in love, but I don't know what I'm in. I don't know what true love is. I'll never fucking figure it out either. And here I have this guy, that I am basically mistreating just for the hell of it. Just because I'm hurting, he has to hurt...it's the only way, bt it's not fair. It's not fucking fair. God I'm such a bitch. I can give everyone else the best of advice, but I'm always lost as to what I should do for myself or with myself. I just thought of if now, but I recently said to someone, "You can't love someone else if you don't love yoruself." Ain't that the fucking truth. But I can love myself, just enough to get through, but I honestly dono't know how to love someone else. In my family we only care for each other, sometimes I doubt that. What the hell is love? I feel that every relationship that I get into, I'll end up neglecting the other person. God it's fucking hot in here.
  • Current Music
    Massive Attack: Teardrop

The lovely countdown...

0 days sober. 5 days since I've wanted to bitch slap my 11 year old nephew. 7 days no business call returned to okay the application. 9 days SI free. 14 (?) that I've bitched out absolutely anyone in any distance of me. 16 years that I've hated my life. 29 spastic days and counting.

Dude I totally miss you all the time....

Excited. My sister is going on tomorrow at 5am to have her labor induced. My niece is almost here. Personally, I told her she should hold off until Jan. 1, but who am I? Plus, that baby wants to grace us with her presence, so...I guess that's just out of the question. I should be packing some things since I have to go to her place in a bit.

Joyous. I'm in love. Yes. In L.O.V.E. Now, I ask myself, what the hell am I doing? Any and every relationship I always find myself jumping to conclusions about what can come of it...I don't want to jump too far ahead of myself. So, I'll shut up.

It figures: Leave it up to James Brown to kick it on Christmas. He always was a shocker, apparently, even up until the end.
  • Current Music
    Tenacious D: Dude I Totally Miss You