I know I haven't updated this in a long time and I'm sorry. Things have been crazy ever since I fucked things up at my last foster home, and I still feel like absolute shit about it. I realize now that what i did was fucked up, and even though it wasn't 100% my fault, it still was under my control.

So I went from having new year's with family and my boyfriend and my best friend, to crying at night into a stuffed animal up in Hersey in a fucking residential. Its Detroit all over again. And the worst part is that there's guys here, and these guys are either stupid or mean, and i'm already too caught up in their bullshit that I can't focus on my own.

I'm constantly comparing ,myself to others, and i'm always thinking about every wrong thing that I did, and somehow I know I'm ready to move on, yet I'm still stuck in the same track of thinking. I try my best, I do my my schoolwork, I go to work, I do my programming and my therapy and I take my medicine and I talk to peers and I do new things. But somehow I'm still me. I'm the same girl that was running 4 miles to her boyfriend's house in September in shorts. I'm the same girl that was laying there while her father molested her. I'm the same girl that tried to perfect everything she does and tries to make it look like she doesn't give a shit. I'm still ME.

I'm alone and isolated and depressed, all over again. The only difference is that I get to shower every day and I have clean clothes.

This New Year's was my best one of my life, just because I was with people who loved me, and I was with a person I loved. We had a great time, and He came over for Christmas, too. Nothing makes me happier than being with my boyfriend. I know in my heart it isn't a cliche high school relationship, and that's what makes it so special. It's special because we made it work through 2 years of bullshit, and we're still together.

I haven't seen or heard from him in about 6 days now, and I feel shitty about it. But there's nothing I can really do, so I'm trying to focus on Competitive Cheer, my Final Exams, and trying to better myself.

I'm going to be 110% honest, I did something horrible to him and I'm still trying to figure out why I did it and what I can do to snap out of it. I'm trying to be the girlfriend he deserves. But it's so difficult when I give 100% and he only seems so give me 50%. What do I do when I love someone to the ends of the earth and back, and they'd only go to the ocean?

The month of candy, spooky stuff, fall, cold rains, big moons, and bad grades. I love this month, more so because this is the month I have my best friends and loved ones around me. The month that I go through appointments, paperwork, projects, and books.

I am somewhat addicted to my friends and boyfriend, I guess. I love them more than anything in the world, and I'd do anything to make them happy. Chloe, especially. She's so sweet and funny, and she deserves more. Nick, too. I'm loyal to a fault, unfortunately. It doesn't matter how wrong you did me, I'll still love you and be there for you whether I admit it or not.

The purpose of ink is to last a long ass time. To make things permanent, official, and lasting. In school, we usually wrote in pencil first and then went over it in pen- just to make sure we don't fuck it all up or misspell something. If there was a way to pencil in my life first, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

I thought of this as I was doing something for French class, actually. We had to write as much about ourselves as we could in French, on that kind of paper we used in kindergarten and first grade. She said we should make it look nice, by using markers and pens. I've been so scared of letting her down lately because my whole family had this teacher and they did so well. I was really surprised when she told me that this semester, I got the highest scores in our class. It really means a lot to me because I've been struggling a lot the past few weeks. I need to be praised for what I do well, and not brought down by what I can't understand.

Some things are written in ink for a reason. Some people are made of ink and thick manila paper; the kind of people who stay there no matter what. I try my best to be that kind of person to people who need it; sometimes it's hard but I stick to it. Because I love them, because they're worth it.

Have you ever had that kind of day where you wake up and everything is okay, you can breathe easy, and maybe you're even happy? And then your day just goes to shit and everything is annoying or aggravating and you want to kill someone?

Imagine that, everyday, into a year. Like a roller coaster that keeps going up and down the whole way. Or a bird with a sprained wing. That's how it feels right now, this very moment, this year. I'm 2 hours away from where I was, and I'm away from everything I had. It's ruined my life...and I'm not joking this time.

I don't feel like myself, at all. I feel like someone else, someone different....and i don't like it. This isn't who I am. It never was.

And people? They left. As soon as I went into the system, it all fell apart. It's like I was the glue that held our group together and then as soon as I left, they all went their own ways. They don't know that I'm coming back. Only 1 person does. And I trust them with my life. I'm scared though.

Things have changed. And i was left behind.

They say religion and existence goes hand in hand, so let's kill 2 birds with one stone. People will usually ask someone they met what religion they are, and as an atheist, you have a few options. Say you're christian and be viewed as a good human being with a normal american family and life, or just tell them you're an atheist and be viewed as a satanist. So, normally, people will try to shove their religion down your throat and you're a bad person if you don't swallow. And then you have the people who try to persuade you into joining their religion because "it's true". AND you have the people who fight tooth and nail to make you believe God is real and that he made you.

Technically, we're made from dead stars. And if you don't know how, then let me explain; it was my favorite thing I've ever learned. So, a star is formed when atoms of light are forced together inside of clouds of gas and molecules called nebulae, and fight gravity trying to push it in and itself trying to explode. Depending on how big the star is, the star lives for a long time, using nuclear fusion. Eventually, the star creates iron, which absorbs energy, and it kills itself instantly. The star expands to over 1,000 times its original size and becomes a red giant. After a while, the star collapses in on itself and explodes, so violently that it sends parts of itself millions of miles away into the universe. Those parts are the building blocks for other stars and galaxies and planets, and what's left of the star after the supernova is a small mass of diamond, a white dwarf.

And humans are born on earth, a planet, in a solar system, in a galaxy, made from another star. We are made of star stuff, literally. And maybe after we die, we become our own diamond. There's always beauty after death. And some are willing to die to be beautiful. People are disposable. There are so many of us, and so many have no purpose yet, or anymore. And some of us don't deserve to exist. Some of us wish to stop existing, and some of us want to exist. Existence is so complicated. Some people think we need to worship to an invisible being in the heavens. They say he made everything and they have a whole book on how we came to be and everything that happened before people were even around to tell what happened. Stars didn't die for us to worship something we made up.

People make up all of these different religions because they're afraid of nothing. They're terrified of there being nothing after death, so they do everything they can to make sure there'll be something after they die.

They say that family is everything, and without it, we're nothing. There's a lot I could say about family. You know those people who have those stupid stickers on their walls that say 'family', or photo frames that say it, or pillows? Those are the people who either A) are scared of losing their family or B) are rich and tacky.

Yes, family is important because no matter what, they're supposed to have your back and be there for you, support you, and love you no matter what. The truth? Some families aren't like that. Most people strive to have that perfect American family and life, but most can't achieve that. Because families are people, and people are difficult. Because people have different personalities and values and goals and minds. Because money is so important to people, and they'll do anything to get it or keep it. Because some families are too broken to be a family. Because shit happens.

Some people are just too fucked up, and their family says they'll always love you and they still call you names and joke about you and yell at you and hurt you. Some people can't swallow their pride and own up to shit. And some people have their own kind of family that isn't blood related, and those families are the strongest. They can't genetically get alcoholism and diabetes, their personalities don't mix in the wrong way, they'll always be there for each other.

And what does home have to do with this? Families have a home. Couples have a home, friends have a home. Everyone has a home, and some just haven't found it yet. Home to me is a safe place you know you can always go to. Home is where your heart will always long for. Some people are other people's home, like my boyfriend. Some people feel homesick and then they meet someone and they feel at home with that person. Home isn't always a house. Home can be a person, an area, a structure, a country, a park, anywhere where you can be you without fear.

And when you lose that person or you move? That one place is gone and you can't get it back. They carried your memories, your fears, your dreams, your love, your hate, your essence. They had a part of you, like a fingerprint. Then suddenly or over time, they're gone. I think losing something over time is worse because you see it slipping through your fingers and you can't do anything to stop it.

Depression is one ugly ass word, isn't it? And sadly, a lot of people have a really good understanding of it because it's a part of them. We try to battle it with pills and happy things and smiling, but it'll always lie there in waiting. There are so many kinds of depression out there, and it's hard to figure out which one is sitting on you. There's some people who pretend to have depression to get attention, too.

Depression is like a giant battle we're constantly fighting. And it makes me so fucking tired, mentally and physically. I'm fighting my own mind, and how am I going to win against myself? To change takes too much energy, energy I've lost from trying to keep it at bay. It's the same as having a huge dog on a leash, and sometimes the dog sees something and lunges, snapping the leash. The dog doesn't listen, and it gets in the way of everything. Sometimes it barks at people I care about and scares them away. The more I try to control it, the worse it gets. Music calms my dog most of the time. These songs help:

• Dark Storms by Our Last Night
• Lost On You, Muddy Waters by LP
• Therapy Session, Mansion, Only One, Can You Hold Me, by NF
• Problematic by Get Scared
• Lovely, Idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Elilish

My dog loves this kind of music, but I don't know why. Sometimes my dog can't be calmed with music, and only with cigarettes, cigars, alcohol, etc. And other times all my dog wants is attention, love and sometimes sex.

My dog has a friend, called Anxiety. Anxiety is always with my dog and I can't figure out how to get rid of them both before they hurt me too much. Anxiety nips at my heels and doesn't leave me alone until my someone scares it off. The hard part? Nobody truly knows my dog and its friend, or sees them. My dog doesn't get along well with some people's dogs, and it causes a lot of problems. My dog's going to kill me one of these days, It's come so close a few times, and only one person has been able to calm my dog completely.

I still don't know how or why people deal with me. I know my family is done, but what about people at school? And family friends? How the fuck do they tolerate me? And what am I really like? Am I as coldhearted as some say I am? I mean, I know how annoying, stupid, and reckless I am sometimes, but other times, I just don't know how people put up with me at all. They'll tell me I'm cool, or that I'm good to vent to, or that I'm beautiful and shit. What is it about me that makes people hate me or love me?

And how many people can see through my armor I put out in public? Does my unapproachable, mean mask actually work on most people? And how many see through it and into my insecure, depressed, complex mind? And the way people perceive you is pretty confusing too. And how they choose to act towards you based on their feelings on your character. For example, if someone's really cool with you, they might not get you in trouble for something. But then again, they might use that opinion of yours to their advantage to blindside you. People can be two faced and mean, and don't listen to reason. Some people "morph" things they hear into what they want to hear, and it fucks shit up.

Some people are just filled with black roots that dig deep into past problems and hurtful experiences and use that pain to draw it out on others. Those people use us like paper and expect us to erase when you use pen and sharpie. Those people think they're hurting worse and they need to get on top in any way they can. They have their own little universe and they have chalked out places where they want people to be and a script they want us to follow. Other people, like us, don't even have our own script. We wing it and write as we go, filling our stories with both good and the bad, we have to find a balance, and most think that by controlling what you put in your story, you can achieve that unsteady balance beam of life.

Our stories are so diverse and mixed up and horrible and scary and calming and secret and famous at the same time. Everyone isn't the same. Everyone has their own demons to fight, their own people to protect and their own life to live. If we were born to hurt each other, we'd know it. I'm not a hippie or an activist or anything, I just think people need to stop being such dicks.

People say all the time how powerful and important music is, and the truth is that they're right. Others bring up the fact that music is just vibrations and that fact is also true. The difference is how you perceive it.

Have you ever had that kind of song where you listen to it over and over and over again and each time you can sink into the lyrics and the drum beat and every note just sounds perfectly in time with your feelings? Those are the kinds of songs you want to hold on to because sometimes it's all you're going to have.

Music and food speak to me on a level barely anyone really understands. The sensations each provide are practically irreplaceable and are severely under looked. If I'm having a really bad day, music and food are really the only things that can cheer me up or numb me, besides weed and vodka.

Plus, there's the fact that food and music will always be there for you. It can't let you down or hurt you like people do. They give you a sense of comfort and understanding that just help everything. Bad day? ice cream and Nirvana. Good day? Frito's and Pierce the Veil. Wanna kill someone? Candy and Of mice and men. Music is such a big part of myself that I can't go a day without it.

There's also a few songs that I find in oddball places and write down on a random piece of paper or my arm or somewhere and download later, and those are the songs that end up being replayed over and over again without ever getting tired of them. Some i call stoner music and others I call strays because i find them in such weird ways.

There's quite a few people who would say to anyone under 20 "You don't know what true love is". That's probably true, I know what a general, actual love for someone is, I have it for a few people, actually. And even though I've been hurt multiple times and had my heart shattered into a million pieces, I still go on loving and trying to be as nice as I can without losing myself.

My problem is, when I fall in love, I fall, hard. When I have a crush, I'm wrapped around their finger until they find someone else or we end up dating. If I love someone, I'll always love them to some degree. Matter cannot be created or destroyed. To me, love is the same way. It just changes form, moves on. And love is one hell of a feeling. There's so many ways to show it, so many ways to misinterpret it, so many ways to fuck it up, so many ways to have it.

Some of us have a certain person we know will always have our backs and is someone who won't leave and has been there for you for a long ass time. It's that person who you'll never forget and the person you can't get over and can't leave. Maybe you were once lovers, maybe you were close friends from the start, maybe you even started as enemies and slowly bled together like watercolors.

That person may also have crash-landed into your heart or mind and they're stuck there, either by choice or force. Maybe they build their own world inside of yours and they overlap just right, and that's the kind of person you can't ever let go of. But there's a fine line between love and obsession, between depression and sadness.

Sometimes love is that sick feeling you get in your stomach and you confuse it with fear. Or maybe it's the same thing. Sometimes love is non-stop texting and notes and talking and hugging and a general never-gonna-end kind of love. Sometimes it's that talking at 2 am drunk off your asses and higher than a kite kind of love that's so honest and open that there's no mixed feelings or signals and everything is clear and defined.

Or it's the kind of love that's mixed with white-hot anger and hatred, lust and want. It's the kind of love that's held together with chains.

My middle school experience was so fucking weird, not going to lie. Didn't have anyone I could trust, nobody to just be there for me. Especially 5th grade, because classes gave me anxiety. I was dating a guy, but we were young and stupid and didn't know what love was. He was a football player, popular-ish, cute, and then there was me...emo, depressed/suicidal, weird, short. It didn't last long, we dated off and on, but he was stupid and clueless, so I gave up.

In 6th, everyone was obsessed with Animal Jam and I was obsessed with Gorillaz and Eminem. My teacher was cool as shit though, and everyone liked him. Sadly, that was the year that I was bullied to the point where I started starving myself and cutting. I met one of my friend's older brothers, and he helped me through a lot of shit. The kicker? We met in PSR because he fucked around and I got in trouble for something stupid. Go figure. Anyways, he was pretty dope....liked some of the same music as me, smart ass, cute as hell. We dated for a while, but shit got ugly after he kept getting kicked out and eventually expelled. We used to write each other notes a LOT, i still have mine, but then we just stopped....It hurt a lot, because it was our thing, a habit, something and everything. A lot of shit happened from 6th to 7th grade....I dated a few other guys, got in trouble a few times.

My history teacher was the coolest guy ever, loves ICP and Pantera, gives problem kids attitude....we had the best time ever in his class, he'd give us yard sticks and we'd act out battles and throw paper balls at each other. Cool guy.

I met a guy online, Kazuki Kasumi/ Brandon Hartman, a super cool kid from California. I started a conversation with him at 3 in the morning and found out over a week that he was a fucking MODEL and he was soooo fucking hot. But we both had depression and he was busy a lot, we dated for a good couple of months, he kept trying to fly out here but shit came up every time. We both had cutting problems and we tried to save each other as much as possible from across the country. I helped him through a lot...It soothed me in a way....His worries and fears that kept him awake at night kept me awake so he could sleep....I took the load off of his shoulders to cover up my own problems. It was a fast paced, intimate relationship that changed the both of us.

After we broke up and stopped talking, I just kind of fell into myself....so by 8th grade, I was a fucked up, emotionally abused, anxiety-filled mass of disasters. I mean yeah, most days i just slept as long as I possibly could, stayed indoors, starved myself a lot...but I came through, somehow. Then shit took a turn for the worse.

August 13th, 2016. I remember that stupid fucking day like I remember to breathe. That day was Founder's day for Delton, and I went without anyone's permission. I didn't care...I was too numb to. That guy who wrote notes was there, and we just drank energy drinks and ran around. It was pretty fun, actually. Until my mom made me walk home 11 miles with wet converse. I got home, fell asleep after taking some pain reliever. I woke up a while later, and I remember just staring at my ceiling...and that was it. I literally blacked out. I came to with a giant gash in my arm and holding a blade. So I told my mom, she took me and my brother to the hospital, I got 5 stitches, and they made me get therapy.

Now, I know you might be thinking, "That's good! You're getting help!" when in reality, It was my wake up call. I only agreed to get my parents off my back. You know, I'll do therapy so they'll stop worrying about me and move on with their lives. I mean, I tried at first. Do you know how hard it is to completely open up to a stranger? It's so fucking hard! And then she wanted me to go to this 'mindfulness group', so I did, it was okay, just weird. Then they switched buildings on me and it gave it a whole new feel to it.

So, since I tried and there was no fucking change at all, I just said what I knew she wanted to hear and put out a false problem to distract her from the real one and make her feel like she solved it. I basically mind fucked her for a whole year until I was "okay" enough to be out of therapy. I mean, in reality, you can't just force someone to tell someone everything and expect it to be okay, it just doesn't work like that. My whole time, I was just thinking, "Just put me on some fucking antidepressants and let me be." My mom was telling me about her friend's kid who had ADHD and the meds they were on made then a zombie all day at school and then he could be himself at home, and I kept saying to myself "I want that, I want that level of nothingness," Sure, it wouldn't really be me that people are interacting with, but hey.

I hated therapy with a passion, something about telling someone about my faults and fuck-ups and things that go on inside of my head scares the living shit out of me. The only good part about it was that I usually got food after my sessions.

Now that I'm 14, so much has changed since I was in 6th grade. People, what people think about me, how I respond to things, how my brain works...but I guess that every day we get older, our brains work just a little bit differently. And everything that we go through adds just a little bit more uncertainty and fear into our lives and into our heads.

Over the summer, I didn't do that "going to the beach!" shit, I did more of a " Hey, wanna come over and watch Rick and Morty, I have Swisher's" thing. I met one of my brother's now-ex friends from Florida, and his whole family was crazy and weird but fun. I didn't know much at first, just that he lived down the road, loved skateboarding and Red Hot Chili Peppers. He'd come over and chill out and I'd talk to him, and after a while, I realized something about him, so before we went on vacation to North Carolina, I wrote him a note and opened up. And, like I felt he would, he gave me one back when we got back. 2 pages, filled with things I didn't know and parts that gave me butterflies and cold sweat. it still makes me tear up at how complex and difficult our relationship was; it started out as a friendship, then fell into a romantic relationship that was chill as fuck. He taught me about skateboarding, smoked weed with our best friend, and he'd take me on dates in his adorable cool little Volvo, going to the skate park and Wendy's or Taco Bell, just hanging around and having a good time. I honestly felt the best when we were together. But we had to be so fucking careful.... My dad and brother would've killed him if they knew we were dating or that I lost my virginity to him or that he took me places. It was a nerve-wracking dance with fire. Most of our relationship, our best friend helped cover our backs if something came up, but eventually, we got caught-- shit fell apart when he threw me under the bus to save his rep. It hurt a lot, i thought he'd truly stand up for me. But I guess he was the wrong guy because he never did. I trusted him with everything I had... We broke up after school started, apparently I was too much for him to deal with...I put away everything that he gave me or reminded me of him and tried to move on as much as I could, but it really fucked me up how he chose his words when he fucking tore my heart in two and criminalized me.

After that relationship ended, I just gave up on giving a shit. We couldn't (and still can't) be around each other without arguing. It's fucking ridiculous that after we were done, he judged me for moving on faster than him. I found someone who made me smile and laugh no matter how low I was feeling and who loved every part of me.