A few years ago, I created a tumblr account, today I created a blog. This is for the small victories in life and the small failures.

Category: Really Personal



I have this thing about honesty. I don’t understand why you could paint an elaborate picture, just to try to deceive me for some assumption you made about me. However, if I was being honest, I would tell you that you scare me.


I woke up. I regained consciousness. I couldn’t breathe. Anxiety attacks make it difficult to breathe—but so does a chokehold. I don’t remember consenting to this. I don’t remember consenting to that. Someone help. I can’t stand up for myself while I struggle to breathe.


I was horrified you were going to destroy me. To ruin me. To enslave me as you have others. I was even more terrified when I saw my blood on you. You ripped me into pieces—literally. Antibiotics had to be given.


You tried to take me in the bathroom. Turn over. That’s where I drew the line.


Your phone goes off. I have to take Callie to work. I think I asked you to stay. You say you can’t find your sock, but you leave anyway.


I never wanted to fuck you. Sympathy Sex. Instead, I woke up confused and violated. And even though I love you, I never want you to touch me again.



{A/N: one of the reasons I’m going through trauma therapy.}

I’m not sure if I remember it correctly. I mean—it was my birthday. When I turned twenty-one, I didn’t have a big blow out. I invited a couple of friends out and got a decent little buzz. When I turned twenty-two, I went for it. I decided to make a little post on my Facebook account and announce, “Hey! Thursday is my birthday! Start at the Palace at 11pm!” I never expected you to come. In fact, only three people met me at the Palace. My coworker was late relieving me. I had to use our shared unisex bathroom to change into my little black dress and lace leggings. I even used the mirror to add more makeup. I had forgotten to wear contacts, but I put on the full face of makeup anyway. I drove like a maniac to the Palace where I met Miri and Brianna and took the full stoplight shot. Green is for go! Yellow is for speed up! Red is for—I don’t remember…rightly so. Living in a small town is perfect for getting all the free drinks on your birthday. From there, we went to the Tav and ordered a pitcher of beer we all shared. That’s where we met Pat. He’s an okay guy. You were all pressuring me to head over to Shooters so we could indulge in some gaming while we drank, but first we made a pit stop at the frontier for yet another birthday shot. As we traveled down the darkened alley, we came across you and Ian. I was focused on Ian, but I invited you along too. I’m not sure why you didn’t notice how my eyes were glazed over or my dress was askew. But I didn’t ask. This was the point where I took every person aside separately. I told each one to keep me away from you. I knew I was going to be drunk, and I knew that drunk Laekin had a secret thing for you. They all swore.


Cue Shooters, your ex-girlfriend was waiting for me with balloons, crowns, necklaces, even a huge “Birthday Girl” button. She even made me cupcakes. That was when we were close. No one else had never done that for me. This is where things go dark. Maybe some of them are blurry, but most of them are dark. We were going to 301, but somehow we ended up at Blue Rock for another birthday shot. They didn’t do the reverse cowgirl as only one person was even in the bar in the middle of July. But it was fun anyway—maybe next year. Somehow I ended up at 301. I went to the bathroom right away. When I came back I had a birthday shot in front of me. I swore to Jerrad I didn’t order it, as I had my official birthday drink the night before, but he let me have it anyway. Some women bought me the melon shot. Green is my favorite color, and the melon tastes so refreshing. Smoking—in the beer garden. I had a water in one hand and vodka in the other. The after party—my place. I was stoked you were there. You could make the drinks. Your ex-girlfriend was hitting on you, so I cockblocked her. I may have hit on you too. Ian came even though she was there. It was crowded. My packed boxes in the way and seven people crammed into a studio apartment. I didn’t even have space to sit on my couch. You spilled root beer on my Keurig box. I had to apologize to the new owner when I sold it for drinking money.


Everyone is leaving. I don’t know why. I don’t want you to leave. You smoke cloves on the porch as I hold your arm. You ask me to stop doing that. I don’t know what I was doing. Ian and Miri leave, they ask if you want a ride. I’ll take care of her. Your ex-girlfriend is asleep on my couch upstairs. You slide your hand up my dress and try to satisfy me. I try to tell you to stop, but I can’t stifle my moans long enough. I mention that a cop is going to drive by, you refuse to listen. When the cop drives by Shit. We move to the bushes. I ask you if you have to leave. You wore me down. Happy Birthday. Do you want to get on top?


She’ll know. I refuse to put my leggings back on just to take them off once I get upstairs. I said I don’t care. I passed out. Your ex-girlfriend helped me find my glasses and rehydrated me. I think she may have suspected something when she walked me to my car, but she didn’t say anything until two weeks later when she blocked me.

Cap and Gown

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.



Sun punishes my pale, unscreened face. The decorated red cap provides no protection as it glides from the back of my head to the soft, warm grass. As we are guided to our seats, onlookers scream and cheer our names. The mid-life crisis key note speaker drones about his own “rite of passage” 30 or so years ago. His hangover story the day of graduation suddenly reminds me of Franco’s flask as the sun bears down on the gowns at 10am. Secretly hoping that the camera would glimpse me, I take a quick swig and pass it down to Zach.


Queue the adolescents.

Cue their names.

Hand them empty folders.


Deafened by the crowd, I hope to hear the cheers of my vocational family.










I fight to say “good luck”, “have fun”, “see you later” and embrace my friends when suddenly my phone chirps.



We’ll meet you at your house.


“What degree?”           “Why English?”           “What now?”               “Why don’t you move back?”

“Why don’t you move back?”              “What degree?”           “Why English?”           “What now?”

“What now?”               “Why don’t you move back?”      “What degree?”       “Why English?”

“Why English?”           “What now?”               “Why don’t you move back?”        “What degree?”


I feel my face flushing, voice straining, and patience waning. My soccer mom Aunt Kara calls me an “ungrateful bitch” and refuses to leave the car. 15 minutes later, my mom and grandma climb back in the SUV to go thrifting, leaving me with my 6’7” step-dad Jeff to take me home before he drives back to Wenatchee alone.


Undressing in the heat and curling, crawling into my covers, I celebrate by myself as my eyes drift slowly.


Lessons in Nostalgia

It’s odd when you haven’t stopped to reflect on your relationships with others for awhile. And your best friends are no longer your best friends and the people who used to make you smile make you cringe away with nostalgia dripping on the edge of your memories.

Like, my first best friend/neighbor. She’s really into animals and farms and such now. I haven’t talked to her in 12 years.

Or my best friend in soccer. She and I are still close, but we live in different areas. She’s married and has an adorable little boy. We don’t talk often.

Or my first love. It was fucked up. Not going to lie. But he literally walked me through the most suffocating years of my life. And we haven’t talked since the day I turned 19. He used to be so kind. But now he’s lost and drifting.

Or my older brothers. Not really related. But I used to be so close. I would always have a shoulder to turn to. One, I stopped talking to. Because he became rude and arrogant. One, got married. He has a little daughter on the way. He stopped talking to me.

Or my sister. Even when we lived in the same town, we rarely talked. But now we never talk.

Or my two best friends at community college. We have had some distance. But we talk now. And I miss them. I wish I didn’t have to leave them behind. They were the first ones to ever see me drunk.

Or my friends. Who I see on facebook that I used to talk to almost every day. But now I see their pictures and they are making newer happier memories.

Or my first actual love interest. He’s still struggling. But he’s back with his first girlfriend and they are happy. I hope he lives long enough for it to get better.

Or they first guy who introduced me to Tonight Alive. Who wrote me notes in Physics and sang the pokemon theme song to cheer me up.

Or my only friend at private school, who was a compulsive and pathological liar. The best friend a suicidal teen could have.

Or my first boyfriend. Who I still can’t talk about.

Or my new friends. Who go out with me. Who work with me.

Sometimes it’s worth taking a look back. Because I am not saddened by all the changes in my life. But sometimes it’s astounding how much life can change (or not change) in a span of 6 months to 11 years.

I know some friends are friends for life. And I’m glad we still talk.

And I’m thankful to everyone else, for teaching me the lessons that I needed to learn.


Pride& Everyone’s Prejudices

I’m so sick of the way I get treated. At first, I was going to make this post specifically about work. But then I realized that I get a lot of shit for no reason other than the fact that I’m doing okay.

Like how after my first year at an official university, my ex-friend and ex-roommate decided to demand $2000 from me because her sister’s car was dented on the hood when about 5 people sat on it. She decided to call me (and only me) out because I’m fat and we were no longer friends.

Or how my mother demands that I pay all $40k she took out in loans to put me through school, after I told her not to. 

Or how I was going to move into a house, but the two people living there told me I couldn’t move in because they refused to sign the lease so their friend could move in instead. And then when I told them I’d back out. They wanted me to move in just to pay the $800 they would be responsible for if I didn’t move in.

Or how I was told that my pet deposit was $300 with $200 refundable all 5 times I asked before I moved in. And I read the lease six times before signing. And I got less than $100 of the refundable deposit back when I moved out. But a whole month later, they contact me demanding $100 back because they claim $200 was nonrefundable the entire time.

Or how I get yelled at at the motel I work at for things that I am either not guilty of, or everyone else does it. And the one day I don’t cover their asses, I get in trouble.

Or how at the restaurant, I got servers yelling at me all day for their food going out wrong, when 90% of the time, it’s the other expo who pulled the ticket in the first place. Who didn’t even ask for help, or if they did, they didn’t even know what they were looking for. And even after I tell the people yelling at me that it wasn’t my ticket, they continue to yell at me until either they or I go home.

Or how I have a bunch of friends who claim that they are “too busy” to hangout. When I am far more busier than they are, and I find the time to hang out with friends and binge watch netflix.

Or how I get lectures from my family because my friends don’t have the same “values” as me. Because they like alcohol. Or have tried drugs. Or “look like” they are satanists. When my family barely even notices if I graduate. Or never even meets my friends. Because they live a whole town over. But since I like alcohol and I’m a “whore”, all of my friends are influencing me poorly.

Or how I’m not allowed to have opinions, because according to some people I’m just a woman who “hates on opinions” for believing that women should be treated equal. Or because I believe that LGBTQA people should be treated equal. And instead of dissing other people or staying silent, I voice my opinions without forcing them on others. Unless it’s something stupidly hypocritical like “gay isn’t okay–ever. But lesbian is–only if it’s during a threesome.” Then I’ll tell them that they’re contradicting themselves. Which makes me appear like a bitch and a hater.

I’m just tired of being treated like shit because I’m not conventional. Or because people don’t see everything I actually do. Or because I don’t like labels. Or because I am a cisfemale with opinions. Or because I just entered the “real” world in December. I’m sick of people taking advantage of me and 50 year old men stalking from job to job just to tell me I’m beautiful or force their opinions on me.

I am a cisfemale who identifies with she/her pronouns.

I am a feminist who believes that all genders and races should be treated equally. Regardless of their birth gender or sexual orientation.

I stand up for what I believe in–without offending other religions or opinions.

Respect me, or we will have a problem.


P.S. Rant over.


Quotes and Secrets

It’s been a really rough couple of weeks. (1) Thanskgiving, (2) Family, (3) School, and (4) Friends. I’ve been trying to find jobs and places to live in Ellensburg. It’s actually kind of difficult.

(1) I hate holidays. I hate them. They are filled with meaningless small talk and repeated questions. And Thanksgiving is always a really small gathering full of people who don’t listen to what we say. So this year we went to my aunt’s house afterwards. There was somewhere between 30-60 people there. Just the way I like it.

(2) Family is awesome if you have a good communicative family. I didn’t. It’s getting better. But it’s still not there yet. And I had a traumatizing childhood. So I’m not a huge fan of family gatherings. But Thanksgiving was still pretty bad.

(3) School is stressful. Grades, classes, presentations. Oh. I also wrote this fabulous poem for Poetry Writing. But I don’t think I will be able too read it allowed. I am physically not able to read it. Stupid mouth and tongue and speech skills.

(4) Friends. Many many issues. I guess I got upset with one of my friends because of some things that were said. Being upset was completely valid, and I didn’t do anything. Besides wait 3 days for a confrontation. And I skyped my friend in Canada for a long time. It was the most we’ve talked since living in the same town. I even talked to one of my other friends via phone after I got super upset. And after explaining  some things, he made me feel better. Anyway, lots of stress and tears and pain. Because Humans hurt one another. And Pain demands to be felt.

Also, I am on this medication. And it kind of works. Dehydration, Hallucinations, and Insomnia have been happening. But they’re very mild. And all of the side effects simply happen at night. It makes me feel artistic. I guess I am an artist. Plus these are more than likely symptoms of my problem not being suppressed by the meds.

Also I have been doing this thing to distract myself. I find a famous poet or author’s birthday on the day that it is. And I post quotes by them all day. I usually pick quotes  that really hit me hard.



We salute you, oh captain my captain and dear friend


Gentlemen and Ladies, tonight we stand on our desks to salute one of the greatest actors in our lifetime. Robin Williams’ death came too soon. He is known for Good Will Hunting, Patch Adams, Hook, Dead Poet’s Society, Mrs. Doubtfire, Mork & Mindy, and many many many others.

One of my earliest experiences with Mr. Williams was when my mother made me watch Patch Adams with her when I was really young. I remember next to nothing about the movie. But I know that was my first experience with him. I met him once again when I fell in love with the movie Aladdin. He was sprinkled in every little portion of my childhood. I remember watching Jack on television one day–I remember crying during that movie. I remember watching Mrs. Doubtfire countless times with my mother or my grandmother, laughing with him. I remember being equally terrified and yet in awe of Jumanji. I remember watching August Rush and getting sick to my stomach because for once, Mr. Williams played an antagonist. When I was a teenager I decided that I could decide on what I believed and what I watched. So I watched Dead Poet’s Society after being told not to. And it instantly became my favorite movie. I wanted to be like Mr. Keating in every way shape or form. And if anyone besides Robin Williams had portrayed Mr. Keating, I can definitely say that I would not be the person I am today.

Robin Williams helped make me into the person I am today and I will never forget that. I will never forget him.

You’re only given a little spark of madness. You musn’t lose it. –Robin Williams

Rest in peace, my friend.



100 Happy Days: Day 37

Today was hard–really hard. I never left my room after work. I barely left my bed. I felt positively awful. (Insert a picture of my flipping off the world here because that’s my mood right now.) But my friends made me feel better. I’m scared of things, like being honest, because usually people don’t hear me when I am. But today both of my closest friends proved that they were trying really hard to understand.

It makes me happy. Because I haven’t felt this good about the people I surround myself with since ever. It’s still frustrating sometimes because people are all so different from one another that no one can possibly understand everything. But I think that both Aaron and Crystal are really awesome people who probably deserve a better friend than me. I guess they just like me too much.

Both of them are some of the best friends I could ask for. I mean, Crystal takes care of me when I’m dehydrated or sad. She even plays with my hair sometimes. Aaron sends me these links to YouTube where it references a movie he quotes from regularly. It’s a little annoying clicking on links all the time, but it never fails to make me laugh. Crystal is great for talking about guys because she won’t ever tell you have bad taste. Aaron’s great for talking about feelings because he’s not a cyborg and he tries to understand things he didn’t understand originally.

Basically, these two help me through my rough days. And I love them both to pieces for being so patient with me and taking care of me. Even though I frown on parenting me behind my back. Or even to my face. I’m the rebellious sort. But right, I just mentioned that these two make me feel warm and fuzzy and stuff. And that their faces are unique. And that I’d like to keep both of them around for awhile.

I mean, Crystal makes perfectly timed Doctor Who comebacks.


And Aaron knows things. Like how to take pictures.


P.S. Check out the 100 Happy Days website!

P.P.S. Aaron, Crystal GUESS WHAT!? I put the hot in psychotic!

P.P.P.S. This is how Aaron laughs you guys, no joke.

P.P.P.P.S. Hey, Aaron! I beat out your tag on Crystal’s blog for once! Muahahaha.20140724-225457-82497841.jpg

100 Happy Days: Day 30

July 17th: {A/N: I fell behind due to guests, homework, and travels. I’m almost caught up!}



The thing I love about my best friends is that when I have a really, really shitty day and can’t think of anything happy, they make me happier. And they usually do it in weird ways. And sometimes I have to yell at them or tell them what I need because we’re all really different people with different needs and it feels weird, but then it all sorts itself out. Crystal and I typically have really weird conversations anyway. And Aaron and I typically have one sided conversations where I do all the talking until I proclaim that my throat hurts and he should do the talking for awhile. It’s pretty much the same in Facebook messaging, except Crystal rambles a lot more and Aaron says a lot less.

Crystal and I usually are always on the same page even when we’re tense. Except when we’re tense we need to stay away from each other. But we get along really well (scary well) and stuff, even though we argue (more like discuss in weird tones) a lot. So there isn’t much to tell her except sometimes to mention things I don’t like–like repeating myself. Aaron is a man of few words, unless you bring up dreams or shooting in raw. By few words, I mean almost every message I get is “Hmm.” or “I see.” So sometimes I have to poke and prod to get him to actually talk. And they’re both nerdy, geeky(in Crystal’s case not so much), and awkward. Which somehow makes us all really good friends. They’re literally the people I talk to, sometimes out of boredom, sometimes because I get annoyed that I’m quoting a movie I’m not obsessed with, but mostly because they’re kind of my best friends right now.

Even though their job isn’t to make me happy, they go to some pretty great lengths to make me happy. Like today. I couldn’t think of anything happy except the four hour nap I took to escape the world because it was that bad of a day. So then they try things that don’t work to bring my mood into a more pleasant one. But they try. And then really odd conversations and realizations happen when I’m talking to them. And it usually makes me happier. But I’m not kidding. I get all my epiphanies talking to them.

Anyway, Crystal has a lot of clothes. And all of her clothes make her look old. By old, I mean Crystal looks like she’s a 60-year-old woman with really great skin. Aaron has an old soul. He likes bluesy music type things and weird stuff like that. He also carries a cloth handkerchief (although I just think he believes a small thing of Kleenex is beneath him). So he’s pretty old too. But we’re all in the same age group. They just have old people personalities (some people call that maturity but I don’t think it’s really the same thing). And so we had this conversation which led to the epiphany that all of my closest friends are the equivalent of old people. And that either makes me an old person as well or the rebellious young adult they have to watch over. (I personally think it’s the latter–especially since I almost died from dehydration because I hate water and that’s only a slight exaggeration). Which of course is weird. But it’s an example of weird conversations and the usual weirdness I have with some of my closest friends.

Anyway, these two oldies are my happiness on days when I feel unhappy.


P.S. Learn more about 100 Happy Days here.

P.P.S. Crystal’s blog is here but she’s not famous yet.

P.P.P.S. Aaron have you named your photography #AaronAmort yet? Because you need to.

P.P.P.P.S. There’s a bunch of weirdness in this post. But I like these people. And they don’t hear much. And when they do, I don’t explain it. So yeah. But it’s not like all mushy and gushy because ew gross. And I’m not a lesbian. I honestly think relationships are repulsive.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Crystal got complimented by a really old lady on her dress once. And apparently Aaron made a guy believe he was from the 1960s.

7 Is My Unlucky Number

I was born on July 7th, this means that when I fill out my birth date it looks like: 07/07/1994. I have always believed that this means 7 is my lucky number. And when I was a child it proved to be right. But every year for my birthday, since I was 8, things took a turn for the worst. I think the most recent successful birthday I have had was last year. I had two dinners: a family dinner and a friend dinner. I took this for a sign that my birthday was starting to be okay again! (Depression and stuff makes for really shitty birthdays.)

Sadly this year, I have to work for a couple hours on my birthday, which is on a Monday. So I thought, “Cool! I can celebrate the weekend before and go see all my friends on the west side!” The problem is that July 7th is three days after July 4th–which is also known as Independence Day. And I kind of forgot this, because after awhile, we stopped celebrating July 4th, because the fireworks show in Wenatchee is pretty lame, so I keep forgetting that it’s a holiday. So when I asked all my friends what they were doing they replied with stuff like:

  • “I’m going to Oregon to visit relatives,”
  • “I am going to really busy hopefully with a job as well as July 4th festivities,”
  • “Well, we are possibly going back to Wenatchee on the 4th, but I will talk to him and see if we can visit,”
  • and “Well I will be free but all the way in Spokane.”

Sadly, I have not received my first paycheck and am still in quite a bit of debt, so I was only planning on going to the west side once until I figure out my money issues. And during that trip, I want to see everyone I can. So it looks like I am going to be stranded in Ellensburg alone on my birthday this year. I actually think that this is the first time I will ever be completely alone on my birthday–that is unless some people can find time off and visit. And I am not feeling too good about my birthday this year because I am a little scared I will fall back into a birthday funk. I mean technically last year was still odd as well because after my friend dinner, I ran into the guy I was kind of in an unofficial relationship with. And we talked for a bit–but it wasn’t as much of a funk as the other years.

I am still afraid that everyone I care about will forget my birthday and will not even text me or facebook me. I know that it is really stupid, especially with the stupid facebook notifications that let your friends know. I would just like to actually celebrate t he fact that I am alive and mostly happy this year–unlike the past years. And as of right now it is looking pretty difficult to pull off.


P.S. If you will be in Ellensburg, WA anytime from July 4-7 let me know!