I'm pretty sick right now, and have decided to just do a run through of my day. I didn't do what I said I was going to do today, because I woke up not feeling so well. I believe it's a cold. I'm pretty sure it is, actually. I pretty much made my bed, and laid about on the couch not feeling good, and spent the morning complaining about it to Alexander. My grandmother called, and told me to dress myself. She wanted me to go to Riverside to run some errands with her. I don't mind. I love spending time with my grandmother. She's pretty "chill" for lack of other phrase. So I jump in the shower, because it always makes me feel better, and get ready. She picked me up, and we headed off to Maly's (another beauty supply market). But before we went there, I had her stop by the corner beauty market so I could get my favourite eyeliner. I have some, but considering I don't have eyebrows and need to put them on everyday, I kind of need/go through a quite a bit. We stopped by, but they were closed for the holidays. So we headed off to Riverside to Maly's which was closed, as well. So then we headed in the direction to Clark's (a health food store), and I saw Good Will (a thrift store) on the way, and wanted to have a look in, and maybe pick up something new for myself, so we stopped by. I got a few new articles of clothing. We also went in another vintage thrift store right across the street. By the time we got done there we were starving so, she treated us to a late lunch at Carl's Jr. After lunch we went off to Clark's, and she got me some cold medicine, and some essentials for the house, and then went off to the See's Candies store. We went in and assembled a box for my brother to take to work. He asked us to grab it for him while we were out, and we also grabbed a few key-lime truffles for ourselves. Grandmum and I vented to each other about various things on the drive home.

Today was fairly productive. Even though, I didn't clean like I said I was going to, I feel productive. I like feeling productive. It's better than feeling like I'm wasting my life away and can do nothing about it. Maybe tomorrow, if the medicine does it's job, I can finish off my cleaning list and do some much needed homework. I need days like this. I feel good, regardless of my cold. The productiveness--doing something gives me less time to be depressed, and time to sit missing him. But I miss him still, that Alexander. Talking to him throughout the day just isn't enough sometimes. I can't wait to see him again. Whenever that is...

I confess to Facebook more than my blog: Christmas.

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to you all. I'm thankful for all of you. ♥ :} And even though my family and I don't celebrate Christmas, my grandmum took it upon herself to get me a new pair of boots. We don't celebrate for religious purposes. We don't necessarily agree upon the fact that most of the holidays were Pagan and man-made. The only holidays we do celebrate are Thanksgiving, and birthdays. But anyway, my boots have been broken for so long. Maybe for a year or two. I fixed them, but they broke again. Every shoe repair place I've been to says they can't fix them. She handed me her credit card today, and said "get some new ones." I've had the money to get new ones plenty of times, but I've always ended up putting it towards getting the car fixed or rent. She said I deserved a new pair, and said to call it an extremely early birthday present considering my birthday isn't until January. What makes my grandmum even more awesome is that, even though I'm not getting the ones I originally wanted, she says these are just until she can get more money to buy me the pair I really want. I'm extremely grateful, either way. I miss stompin' around in my boots. And, I get another pair to do just that. ♥ I love you so much, granna.

Thank you, Amy.

‎"Simple sweet guitar. Humbled by the bass. So when the beat kicks in everything comes into place. And, it devours me. I can't help but dance. You can try to stop me now, but you won't get the chance. Halftime. Time to think it through. Consider the change. See it from a different view. Rhythm floods my heart. The melody feeds my soul..."


Oh, Amy. Miss Amy Winehouse-- how I miss you. I keep singing because of you, and him, that boy that I love, Alexander. ♥ Thank you, Amy- for giving me something I could go to to keep myself happy when I'm alone and drowning in my own sorrows.. When I don't feel like talking about it, when I don't feel like explaining, or going back to that horrid place in my mind..I grab my headphones and sing along. Thank GOD for Amy. Thank GOD for MUSIC.

Body Dysmorphic Disorder: My Disease.

Body image is an internal view of one's own appearance. It is, in effect, how we see ourselves. However, it is multifaceted and consists of several components. For instance, there is the issue of accuracy of body perception - Do you see what others see? Overestimating the size of certain body sites (such as waist and hip size) when compared to objective measurements has often been noted as a sign of body image disturbance. However, more often the perception is not truly distorted, but rather, some aspect of appearance is disliked, disparaged, or seen as unacceptable.

Indications of this subjective distress can be assessed with a wide variety of questionnaires or figural rating scales. These measures may indicate high levels of body dissatisfaction, negative thoughts, or cognitions associated with certain body parts, or even high levels of social avoidance due to negative feelings about the body.

Body image may be seen as "disturbed" when one's self-evaluation of appearance is at such a level that it interferes with social and/or occupational functioning, or causes elevated levels of anxiety and depression in the individual.

The primary feature is a person's extreme disparagement of some aspect of his/her appearance. Importantly, the individual's rating of the body feature does not fit with that of an objective observer, who may not see anything unattractive or unusual about the feature, or who may note some minimal problem (i.e., the nose or ears may be a bit larger than "average"). What is perhaps most important from a clinical viewpoint is that the individual is obsessively focused on the disliked body feature, and this obsession severely interferes with that person's existence.

BDD may lead a person to engage in extreme avoidance behaviors, such as isolation from acquaintances and even loved ones. Suicidal behavior is not uncommon, and clinical depression may also eventuate. In some cases, multiple surgeries and body modification efforts (such as compulsive weightlifting) fail to improve the person's view of the appearance "defect."

The Monster That Is Me.

Hello, I am a monster.
My name I shall not speak.
I am an evil thing, in which, I thrive to make you weak.
I hide inside the mind of a tiny, fragile girl.


She hides behind in shadows of a wretched, wicked world.
I make her keep her silence.
She barely makes a sound.
I've kept her quiet for so long
that she has forgotten how.


I'll make her small and bitter.
I'll bring her to her knees.
I'll make her destroy everything she ever wants to be.


I hold her on a leash
made of her own misery.
I'll rot her from the inside out
like fire in the sea.


I am with her forever.
She'll never rid of me.
We'll rot this way forever.
For she created me.

My Fatal Fantasy.

My need to be different has unstabily increased.
I will be my own murderer.
Farewell Miss Misery.
My name is Claudia Marie.
I am unknowable to man but, I am gentle and free.
Excuse me?
Can I have a moment, please?
To myself so, I can reflect upon my individuality.
I need to see the beauty that rests upon my eyes so, I can surprise my self-esteem.
Looking into the mirror I could see a small, troubled angel attempting to look back at me.
I couldn't quite see her eyes for she held her head down in shame.
She played a simple game of trust but, you could lose it all so quickly.
I broke the glass trying to to free her.
I knew she was trapped but, I just couldn't get to her.
Glass broken, and shattered everywhere.
In my fists and in my hair.
I lay for a moment in despair.
And, in the bed of broken reflections I realized my imperfections as I cried in discretion.
The angel in the mirror told me I could be free.
Free from all the agony that continuously followed me.
I couldn't believe her.
I just couldn't take it in.
All the wrong that I had done and all the times that I had sinned...
I was the devil's friend.
Never an enemy.
He always just accepted me.
But, that little angel.
Beautifully, she haunted me.
So, now I lay trying to forget the pain and trying to relax.
Too broken to get up, and escape my past.
I could feel myself bleeding.
Attempting to fade away.
I heard a voice.
Silent in the wind.
Once again it was that little angel--now crawling through my skin.
She spoke through me saying "it has begun".
Whispering to me "it's fine", and to just "pick up the gun".
I tried to run but, I just couldn't breathe.
I found myself grasping for the gun that now lay next to me.
Pointed it to my head, and I could feel the peace surrounding me.
Deafening my ears so, I couldn't hear the blasphemy...

I'm just an angry kid.

Hello my name is (                   ). I'm 19 years old and have been to hell and back. Well, I've been through more than what a normal 19 year old girl should have been through. Drugs, alcoholism, self mutilation, broken home, moving around a lot, abuse; more or less. Today, December 10, 2011 at 5:04pm I've finally come to the conclusion that I have an anger problem. Admitting it was something I couldn't do so easily. Not because admitting I have a problem is hard for me. It's not. I just couldn't quite get down to the bottom of my anger, and I still can't, but now I know I am full of it. Anger. Rage. I don't take it out on people. Well I try not to, though I tend to here lately, take it out on Alex. I don't mean to, and he's been helping me every bit of the way to emotional freedom and understanding. I owe that boy my life. Regardless, it normally takes quite a bit to upset me. I mean fully upset me, but once I am it's really hard to calm down if I'm not presented with a logical reason to. What makes that so hard is sometimes I don't always grasp things so comprehensively. Blame that on Schizophrenia. It's like there are 40, large, plasma screen televisions, with surround sound, all playing on different channels on, and you can't turn ANY of them off. Ever. You tell me if that would make trying to make a rational decision any hard. Now, not to get me confused with my mother. My mother has bi-polar disorder. I do not. She gets irrational EVERY TIME she gets upset, and takes it out on everyone. It takes her a lot to calm down. She jumps to conclusions, and makes the worst of assumptions. I...do not. There's no opportunity to explain with her. There is with me. But, to not drag this on longer than it should be--I have an anger problem, nonetheless. I've been battling with it just as long as I have been battling all of my other demons. Coming to the conclusion is strange, but it's just another bullet on my list of how much I'm struggling with humanity.

I Found My Biological Father On Facebook.

Oh, internet. How, I love you so? I have many accounts, many followers, and fans. You help me keep in touch with family, and friends. You let me take my frustrations out when I'm blogging. You let me watch whatever I want when I want, you tell me I'll need a jacket when I go out that evening, and you teach me all sorts of new and amazing things. I'm always learning something every day with you, dear internet. But, one thing you proved me wrong on was finding my father...until today.

Allow me to explain. Long story short--my mother raised me as a single mother. My grandmother took over for the areas when my mother couldn't be/wasn't there. You know some of the story if you've been reading through my blog. Anyway.. My father, however, never was there. At all. I have so much hurt and pain in my heart towards this man for obvious reasons, as well as, many other reasons, in which, I can not state just now. I'd be writing a novel of a list if I did. I had heard so many stories about this man, my father, and my conclusion of him was that he was not a very good person. (Which explains my nick-name.) I figured he must have been wrong for never claiming me as his daughter, and leaving my mother and I right after I was born. My rage towards him grew throughout the years of maturing and growing up. To this day, I'm still angry. It's something I can't deny. I forever have this feeling of "was I not good enough to be your daughter?" just hovering over my every thought.

For years my mother and I searched. After a few years of looking just to please me, my mum gave up. I kept searching. Of course I wanted to find him. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. How dare he leave? They weren't young, he had ample money to support my mum and I...How dare he? And, as years passed I slowly began to accept that I might never find this man. My mother had nearly instilled the thought that he might be in jail or dead in my mind. I didn't let it stop me, but surely, it slowed me down. Whatever he and my mum went through, she did not want to remember, so other details I could use to find him were lost somewhere in the back of her mind. All I had was a first name and a last name. My methods of searching were very thorough and varied, of course. I even did a legal search. What do I get? Nothing. No results. I gave up for a while. Well, I took a break, and put my mind to better things. I slowly got my mind and life back on the right track, and even got engaged. And, although I was happy, and I'd be marrying the man I love, there was this slight pain in my heart that my father wouldn't be there to walk his little girl down the aisle. Instead, it'd be my mother doing HIS job (or possibly my twin brothers).

With all of the "legal/family" searching I did, I also decided to try my hand in fate on many social networking websites. All in which I never found him. I used various spellings of his name, and no luck. I'd look again on every site every 2 months in hopes he might have made an account or something. Again, no luck. And finally, with no intention of looking for him, I come across a "_ _ _ _    _ _ _ _ _ _ _". Originally, I was browsing through Facebook for an old friend from middle school. I see this name, and I click on it out of curiosity. And when I saw the picture, obviously, the man didn't look familiar at all. Mind you, I'm looking for a man I've never seen or met in my life. Well, technically, I met him one time when I was younger. Around the age of 6. But, I was young. And no offense to him, obviously, he didn't make a good enough impression, regardless of how interested I may have seemed as a child. I was a CHILD. I was like a puppy who would go toward any man who gave me affection as a father would. It probably didn't occur to me that he was actually my father, and not one of my mum's boyfriend's who served as a father figure for a while, and would suddenly disappear. And, well--my memories of my childhood are non-existent. I have a hard time recollecting any of it. But, anyway-- that little voice in my mind said "Don't skip over this profile. Look through it."...So I look. I click on the albums and see something that looked familiar. Something clicks. I remember my mother showing me this really withered and old looking picture of my supposed father and the famous, late rapper Tupac. This was about 14 years ago. I had to be about 5 years old. I remember her telling me he worked for a famous radio station out here in California. Fate was against me. The part of the picture where he was--was frayed. Well, after that small walk down memory lane, I came back to reality and looked through his information to possibly confirm some theories of this man being my father. His occupations tell me he worked at said radio station, so I go back to that familiar picture I saw, and with heart racing, and trembling hands I bring my laptop into my mum's room, and wake her up... I knew. I could just feel it in my heart that this was my father. And all of the words I could manage to scrape out was "Mom...I think I found my dad on Facebook".... I held my laptop out towards her, shaking and all, so she could have a look. And she looks up to me to confirm my fears, and I start to feel sick. Which leads to this very moment...

I'm in shock. I've always wondered what I would do or even say when the day would come along. And, of all the days I've looked, it happened when I wasn't looking anymore. Funny, I found love in that very same way. So, now I face the decision of what to do. It's been confirmed this is my father. What do I say now? What do I do? What SHOULD I do? How would I go about this? Do I send him a friend request saying "Hi, I'm your biological daughter whom you denied and abandoned 19 years ago."? Maybe that would scare him off. Or do I just send a friend request? SHOULD I even send one? I'm scared. And, I've never been so scared in my life. Not like this, not for a very long time.


...Well...I sent him a friend request. I didn't say anything. I'm just going to wait, and hope that he accepts. I've decided I won't be mean. I won't say what I really want to say, and GOD knows how much I want to say it. I just want to know him...for now. Maybe he can redeem himself...maybe.

This is intense. And, I have a feeling my whole world..is about to be flipped upside down...

Happy Birthday, Grandma. December 9: Winter Child.

Happy Birthday, Miss Earlene Hall. Yesterday, you turned 66 years old, and age has not even graced you. I want you to know that you are my world and everything. My rock--our rock. You keep this family together. There's not much I can say without basically writing my whole life's story. You were there for me when she wasn't and couldn't be. Not that I hold that against her or that I put you on a pedestal. I'm sure she understands what you mean to me even though she's trying to make up for lost time, but you practically raised me when she wasn't there, which unfortunately, was more than I would have liked. Even though I was young, and couldn't quite fully comprehend what was going on you made sure that I was safe, and well taken care of just as any grandparent would do. You even played the roles that weren't yours since my father wasn't in the picture, at all.  I thank you, and appreciate SO much for EVERYTHING you have done for me. Even when you were disciplining me. I understood it. You always say to me "Naughty, you are my favourite granddaughter" and I always reply "Grandma, I'm your ONLY granddaughter" being as I'm the only girl of my mothers 3 children. But, it always makes me laugh, and one day I know I'll have to face a time when you won't be there anymore. I pray that day may never come, but I know we're only human. It hurts to think about it so, I enjoy every day I have with you. I love you, grandma. I hope you live well enough to see us all do great things with our lives. But, since I'm the youngest I'm going to be selfish, and say I hope you live long enough to see ME do great things with my life. Judging by your health I'll say you'll probably out live me. Maybe Alex and I will give you grandchildren someday... Maybe. Ha ha. Although I've failed at life before--I swear I'll make it up to you and me. Or I'll die trying...  I love you, grandma.

And, to my mother who always feels left out--as many ups and downs as we have I appreciate you just as well. Though the story is a lot different we're still building on our relationship. We've come a long way. With this it takes time. So be patient.

Lover's Tragedy: His Perspective

Crave love like oxygen.
His need for her was crippling like a cruel blow at the back of his knees.
He misses her like breath.
To go through fire and water would be the sacrifice for her love.
His thirst for her remains unquenched.
He'd seek the heaven's end to inheret her love.
But, regret.
A pain so breaking of will.
Suffer he may.
But, his heart still bleeds.
And, this was tragedy....

Make it stop.

I can't fucking do this. I'm tired of life, tired of living, tired of trying to live a life I wasn't meant to have. I get to the point where I just want to turn it off. My emotions. I could...I could do it and not have any emotion enough to care. I could shut everyone out again. I could... It would be nice.

I don't think anyone hears me anymore. I could stop talking. I've been doing so well with it. If only Rian could hear me now. My mum wants me to shut the fuck up. She says I'm a sarcastic asshole. I am. Not that I'm necessarily proud. I am really clever.
It seems that I just can't win with this "life" bull-shit. If I don't talk then I'm being "selfish", and too quiet. It's not "fair" to anyone. Oh fucking well. No one even acts like they care anyway. And, when I do speak I won't shut the fuck up, apparently. I talk too much, and I say the wrong things. DID NO ONE CONSIDER THAT MAYBE THAT THOSE WERE THE VERY REASONS I DIDN'T TALK? Aside from having something inside of me compelling me to not speak. It's an awkward feeling, really. It feels like every time I'd get ready to say something I'd feel like I were going to have an anxiety attack.

What hurts more is my lack of the ability to identify what emotion is proper for certain situations. If someone dies it doesn't phase me. I don't cry much. I get sad, but it turns to anger. I'm angry for everything. If Alex brings me a pack of smokes--I'm angry. Mum gets me something from the store--I'm angry. My favourite show comes on--I'm angry. I'm just full of fucking rage, and I've been like that since I can recall. Anger is all I know. It was all I was used to feeling so whenever a new emotion comes along that I'm not familiar with I run from it, and immediately convert it to anger...even if I don't mean to do it. There's so much wrong with me. I just want to end it all. I just want the pain to go away.
Do I want to kill myself? Before, I would have said yes. Now,...I just want it to fucking stop.

ROTTEN PARASITE. YOU WILL NOT FEAST ON ME TODAY, CONQUEROR WORM!!!!!

...but, the anger consumes me like fire. And, my spirit is slowly devoured. Raped by the demons inside...

E-mails to Rian...

Hello, Rian. I don't really know if you get these messages anymore or if I'm hallucinating about writing and sending them. Days just float by. Well, anyway, I'm... ok. I'm saying ok for many reasons, obviously. Saying one word, with my complexity, must have a story behind it. For lack of proper term to use for what's really going on, aside from battling my own demons day-by-day, I guess I could use "ok". I should be graduating soon. It was supposed to be the end of this month, but Christmas break set that back 2 weeks. So instead it should be mid-January. I'll try not to write a novel. I miss therapy with you. As much as I didn't want to say it before, but I miss it. You understood me without me having to say much of anything. Even when I wouldn't talk, at all, you still knew. Strange, really. This new therapy, however, isn't quite what I need. I go in, stare for a while, my meds are updated to date, and I leave. They don't care much, in my opinion. The wedding isn't off, but it won't be happening anytime soon. I'm struggling. I'm struggling with trying to get something stable for us, but also with him. He got me through the suicidal stage, for now. I still think about it sometimes, but that's it. I just think about it. I feel guilty, though... for him. He's choosing to spend the rest of his life with me and my demons. I don't want to burden him with that, but I love him, and as much as "they" say to leave-- I can't. I won't. Alex calls my hallucinations "having a moment". We're actually "in combat" as I type; Alex and I. We've been doing that a lot, lately. (I realize now that this is already just about two paragraphs long.) He says "every time this happens you talk all crazy then the next day you realize it's irrational". I'm just scared that maybe one day I'll never realize it was irrational or that I was wrong... I question why he stays. I'm just a rock, Rian. A heavy boulder tied to this man's leg, slowly dragging him down into misery. He's too kind for me. He says "Please. Don't think anymore about this. Trust me, okay? I'm here to help stop you from derailing everything. I wont' let you mess your life up". But, I'm tired, Rian. Tired of feeling, tired of emotions, tired of thinking I'm going to fail him and myself. He says "Know that as long as we are together you will chase your dreams. I'm not going to let your mind stop you from doing what you've wanted your whole life."...but, what if I cant do it? I'm fighting myself for everything now. My life, my sanity, myself, and now...love. And, I'm terrified. We share lives now, and I'm scared I'll fail.