Friday, December 20, 2013

Rant #1: I don't want to remember

Recently I have been randomly remembering pieces of my past. Sometimes they are triggered by an event, such as remembering when no one came to my birthday party in 4th grade while I'm at a younger kid's party, or remembering the girl who took advantage of me by asking me to copy my notes for her, because I was too nice to say no and she skipped school a lot, while I'm doing my homework. Said girl was my mortal enemy so I still don't know why I couldn't say no to her!

Most of the time, however, they are completely random. I just can't stop it!

My most favorite thing in the world is listening to music, but recently, all of it has been making me imagine how I would take revenge on the people who made my life a living hell in the past, and the circumstances under which it could happen. (It's so bad that sometimes I wonder if they're going to chase me down just to harrass me, even though I've moved halfway around the world.)

Sometimes I remember when a boy in my class asked if I was "mentally disturbed", or when a senior asked why I was "being so emo", or I was sent to a counselor in elementary school because they thought I was depressed (which I didn't know at the time). She swore secrecy and then called my parents as soon as I was out the door.

So even if I need any mental help now, I won't be getting any until I'm no longer under my parents' care. That is my decision.

The problem is, even though I don't want them popping up randomly and making me hate my life, I don't want to forget the memories either. They have taught me lessons that I am not willing to unlearn.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

#10 - Why I Hate Mederma

Unlike other girls, I just love my scars. I think they're cool. Most of them have some very interesting stories. Some of my favorites involve not even knowing where the scar came from.

Which is why I wasn't so happy when my mom decided years ago that it was time for one of those scars to go. It was one I'd had since I was very little, though it had recently begun to grow darker.

It was, is, and always will be my favorite scar.

The reason I hate Mederma specifically is because it was what my mom used. I still have the scar, but it's so light now that I can't even see it if I'm not looking very closely.

I've considered numerous times to just cut myself with a knife over the old scar to bring it back. I don't usually harm myself, and I haven't attempted to bring back the scar yet.

Yes, I know I have an unhealthy obsession with this scar, but I can't help it. I was plenty obsessed before my mom lightened it.

And as you've all probably heard, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder!"