My Really Shitty Date

To continue on from my previous post, another fun fact about me is when I have spare time I clean. Or at least that’s what happened the other morning. I got ready for work and had some extra time, so I broke out the Windex and cleaned a mirror. Once the mirror was all shiny and dust-free, I caught a glimpse of 2 white hairs sticking straight up in the forefront of my luscious locks. Just in case you don’t know, I’M ONLY 27!

A Letter

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

When it first began, everything was new and exciting. A week in: we shared our first kiss. Months in: I told you that I loved you. Years in: you became the person I wanted to spend my life with. We went through hell and back, but decided to work through our shit and be there for one another. It wasn’t until things ended that I really saw our relationship for what it was: I loved you and you took it for granted.

Done.

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

Maybe things would change once he’s done with school? He’s just under a lot of stress… 

I started making excuses to myself as to why Boyfriend seemed so distant. I accepted being the so-called ‘doormat’ in the relationship: the perpetual giver, seldom a receiver. I needed to find an outlet; something to keep me busy while Boyfriend had a life full of student functions and military trainings. It was almost like a Godsend when a coworker invited me out to play tennis with him and others. I had never really played tennis, but I’m always up for trying new things.

Are You SANE?

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

So I told my story. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, but I knew at this point that he couldn’t hurt me. Boyfriend had already cut ties, so I had nothing left to lose. After I was finished telling my story to the officer, she asked me one question: “Do you want to press charges?”

Without hesitation, I said yes. He made me suffer for long enough. He needs to pay for what he put me through, but not just that; he needed to be locked up so he couldn’t do this to anyone else. She pressed that if I went through with it,  there would be a trial

I Was That Girl In School…

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start here and continue.

I was that girl in school that other girls didn’t like (so I’ve been told). I blossomed earlier than most of my peers of the female variety and boys noticed. This was roughly the same time I began my life phase as a gothic chick. Not that I worshipped the devil or anything. I just wore black EVERYTHING: baggie pants with chains hanging off the back, way too much eye liner, studded everything, topped off with black shirts (usually decorated with some sort of mean or funny quip written on it). I’m sure I scared some people, but I liked the way I looked and I didn’t care what other snots my age thought. I started dating a guy