Have you ever heard someone say that if a baby doesn’t cry that they won’t know if the baby is hungry or upset. 

Why though? Why does the baby have to cry in order for you to be concerned as to whether it is okay? 

Apply this to yourself. Why do we have to cry out for help when we feel depressed, sad or lost. Why do we have to make the effort to reach out to someone? Why can’t someone actually reach out to us and ask how we’re doing, ask us if we’re okay, if we need anything etc.? It just got me thinking, like man, I really don’t have anyone that cares that much about me. I feel like I’m constantly making sure everyone is okay but I don’t get that in return. I care too much and I always have. It sucks feeling like that is burden to my personality. Like I am to expect nothing in return all the time, knowing that even with nothing in return I will never turn my back on those who are in need for a lending hand, an ear, anything. But then I think about what I said in my previous post, I really shouldn’t leave myself behind. I shouldn’t be taking care of everyone else and forget about my well being too. It just sucks that when someone is feeling negative, sad and so on, we have to tell someone or else no one asks and no one will bother to. And then when you hold it in and finally burst, everyone asks why didn’t she express herself, why didn’t she seek for help like whyyyyy. Why can’t someone just make sure we are okay. Geez, I just don’t know. 


Self love is so important. Rarely are we taught that it is crucial to love ourselves, rarely do we as a society ever talk about self love. Self love is the key to happiness. You cannot do anything without loving yourself first. You can’t give someone else advice on how to be happy, if you’re not happy and love yourself because then your words have no meaning, no value. You need to believe what you say, truly believe what you say. It is so easy to cheer others up and forget about your own health and happiness, to leave yourself behind, but that doesn’t mean that you should or that it okay to neglect yourself. Your happiness begins with you and it is just as important as anyone else’s. When you are able to make yourself happy, anything is possible — I promise. It is such an uplifting feeling. In the process of loving yourself it may be hard to do so because of the pain you feel in those moments, but it is even more important to deal with that pain rather than to push it aside. You need to deal with your pain and push through it — not push it aside and do something to distract yourself. Distractions are good for a little while, right? But sooner or later it will catch up to you and eat at your heart. Deal with it now, save yourself from that. It’s almost like dragging the pain along when you use distractions and avoid dealing with it. Numbing yourself is not going to do anything for you in the long run. Numbing your pain is NOT you dealing with it, no. You’re just numbing it and like I said, that is not doing anything for your future. What is cutting yourself, drowning in your own sorrow, pushing your feelings aside and creating a distance between yourself going to do? Is that going to contribute any positivity to your life? Maybe you’ll like the numbness for a little while and then when it wears off? Then what?  You can’t keep doing that to yourself. How can you try to get better when really you are just ruining yourself? You have to get to know yourself and losing yourself in the process is okay, don’t be afraid. It’s okay to put yourself out there, and to explore the deepest crevices of your soul and mind, widen your perspective. Learn something new about yourself. Cut off all the negativity from your life. 

 Pain is something that I feel like is a given in life, it’s always going to be a part of the equation, which is why you have to learn how to deal with it. Broaden your mindset and understand that pain essentially helps you grow and become wiser. You can potentially help someone else out in the future who is experiencing something that you already have dealt with and your words will truly have meaning. You can save someone with your wisdom. 

Love yourself because you deserve it. 

Hmmmm I don’t know. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately covering this topic. I know maybe a lot of people will be angry and bash my opinion but take a minute to actually read what I’m putting down.

I see all the videos that break down the focus of blacklivesmatter vs alllivesmatter, and I agree. I agree that a lot of shit is going on, and it’s unfair and wrong and terrible. Innocent lives are being taken everyday over skin color, stereotypes by power and authority and that angers me. It really does. But what makes me even more angry, is people making videos talking about fuck the police this and blue lives don’t matter. Now….. I’m sorry but how is hate on hate going to help, better or fix anything? Let me share something my step dad taught me when I was little; if your sister pulls your hair, pull her hair back. I got to thinking, why would that make sense? To make it equal? Even? If I pinch you it’s going to hurt right? And if you pinch of me, it’s going to hurt me too. We both feel. Right? So why go back and forth? What is that going to teach? It’s going to be a cycle of neverending pain. I am not saying that it is okay for the people that we are supposed to trust and go to when we have a problem (police) to kill innocent lives, but why is it okay when the roles are reverse? Well, not so much that it’s okay but to show them that we can kill them too? To hurt them too? 

So, essentially we have a problem with killing. Right? We can all agree to that — or so I hope. Now, if we are trying to get the point across that it is wrong to kill, in teaching others that in the process we are going to kill…. to show that it is wrong? So, let’s put it this way if you don’t understand what I’m saying. 


Killing police officers to prove that blacklivesmatter, makes no sense to me. Why do that? You’re hurting because your innocent friend, family member, someone close to your heart died, so you are going to in turn, kill them to make them feel the same pain? To teach them that it’s not okay? To say “fuck the police” or whatever? What does that do? Does it do any good? Do you even care anymore? Do you feel better when an innocent life is taken and it’s a police officer? See what I don’t understand is how people are talking about how it wrong that innocent lives are being taken but yet they somehow don’t care when that innocent life was in uniform? So they deserved it? You cannot judge them all over a selected few crooked cops, and vice versa. Their families hurt too, their loved ones are hurt too. So what? Is this how it ends? Everyone killing each other to prove a point? Everyone hurting? Because in that end, WE ALL LOSE.

I support the #blacklivesmatter movement, but I don’t support those who find it funny when innocent blue lives are being taken as well. Because then it’s almost like blacklivesmatter movement is a joke. How is anyone supposed to take this movement serious when we’re just putting hate on hate? 

Just something I’ve thought about a lot lately. Open your eyes. And it’s hard, I know it is. Life gets harder every damn day, and how we are to go about all of this is still a question I ask myself, because I honestly do not know how we are to fight back without violence. But we can do it. It’s possible I promise. 
Feel free to comment, let your voices be heard. 

Overcoming depression 

I’m feeling really good about myself, my life and even though I’m unsure about what lays ahead of me, I’m genuinely happy. Maybe that isn’t a big deal to some of you, but it is a big step for me because it’s taken me quite some time to get to where I am, and to even feel this way and share it. I’ve struggled with depression since my mom died, but I never really noticed it until I was in 8th grade. It was really hard after my mom passed away, I went from foster home to foster home and it seemed like no one wanted me. Everything was so temporary.

Reasons for being depressed

I had completely shut down and I wasn’t connected with my inner being. I was sexually abused the summer before my 8th grade year. I kept that to myself for a month and when I finally broke down and couldn’t hold it any longer, I was accused of lying and had to move to another home. There was an investigation and it was so hard for me, all the questions and the number of people I had to tell my story to and every single time I was asked to give more detail. It was horrifying going back to that night. I was young and I didn’t understand why anyone would think I would lie about that, it was extremely traumatizing. Now that I’m older, I’ve learned the sad truth that some people do lie about something so serious and it disgusts me. But anway, my detective stopped coming over and I never heard from him again. Recently I heard through the grapevine that my abuser was registered as a sex offender and that his wife still to this day, does not believe me. So there’s that. I also started having really vivid dreams and they got worse overtime. The one that really triggered my depression to its highest peak was about my mom. I dreamt that she showed up at my sisters apartment and she was so different. She came inside and explained to us that she needed to get away, she wanted a new life. She faked her death and escaped from the hospital and changed her name. She then apologized, but I was too hurt to even listen to her. I kept crying and telling her how ever since she left my life had been hell. I woke up from my dream to her giving me a kiss goodbye and walking out my room and I ran after her but she vanished. I know it sounds crazy but my dream felt so real, I was truly convinced. I became so angry inside after that dream. I found a sense of relief when I cut myself one time which soon became a habit. I confessed my dirty habit to my closest friends and they showed me their cuts, it made us closer. We didn’t feel as alone anymore and each day we would share about how much we cut and with what and so on. Looking back it, I’m not sure why we bragged about it so much amongst each other. I guess we just didn’t want to lose that connection, so we stressed it as much as we could. Now I can’t remember the last time I cut, and that brings me true inner peace. Occasionally I will think about it when I feel really low, but then I look at my scars and the feeling goes away. I’m really ashamed of my scars, and I hate when people notice them because I can feel them judging me and having pity for me. I wrote a paper one time about my mom and I ended it with, The pain we feel today will soon be just a feeling from yesterday and since yesterday is past tense and we learn from our past, we can only grow from here on out and the pain we feel today will soon be a scar, a beautiful scar that we can look back at to remind us of our strength. I never connected that piece of advice to my scars from self harm. Hmm.

There are a couple more reasons but I’ll save that chapter for another day. I want to say that I do not encourage self harm, and if you are self harming, know that you are NOT alone and please talk to someone about it. I am no professional but if you ever want to share any stories of any kind, I’m all ears.
Teachers, administrators and several others have always told me how much I’ve changed and grown since they’ve met me. I can finally see the improvement and it’s something I’m really confident about. Don’t ever give up, I promise it gets better. I will be posting poems and a wide variety of topics. If there’s a topic you want to hear from me, or any questions you have, just let me know!

*I will be posting about my thoughts on really strong topics here soon, I will probably put a disclaimer of some sort just as a heads up.


These days I feel off, unsure almost. I have a draft saved about how I’ve overcome my depression, why I was depressed, how I dealt with it and how I feel genuinely happy now. I didn’t publish it obviously and I’m not sure why or if I’m even going to… All of a sudden, my heart and my mind feel so heavy and my happiness is a blur. What does happiness feel like again? I feel really exhausted… This whole weekend has been so chaotic and my eyes just feel so heavy, I don’t feel like myself. This darkness is consuming me and I’m not sure who turned the switch off for it to even come near me. Just two days ago I was happy and my smile lit up the whole room, at least that’s what I thought. Whenever I feel like this my mind wanders off into the deepest crevices. I start having racing thoughts and I start to panic and it feels like my heart is beating so fast it’s going to burst and somehow time seems to slow down at that same moment, I’m not sure how to explain it or if anyone else has experienced this feeling that never fails to boggle my mind. My mind finally calms down and it goes on this airplane mode where I just space out, I stop thinking specifically and it just dozes off, I’m stuck. I’ve been trying to figure out where I’m stranded and then I ask myself a question, one that scares me, scares me because I think I know the answer but I wish I didn’t… Did I really overcome my depression? Or was my mind just on airplane mode for a little while and now I’m back on? So what does happiness feel like? Is it supposed to be temporary? Is it finding someone who can relate to whatever it is you’re going through so that you’re not alone? Is happiness possible being alone? Is happiness the slight change of tone in someone’s voice when they mention someone they care about? Is happiness that bubbly, nerve wrecking feeling in the pit of your stomach? Or is it extinct? Does is it even exist? Am I searching for something that can’t or doesn’t want to be found? Maybe that’s just the darkness consuming my thoughts and even though I sound so negative all I can think of, is a way to light up my path to get out of this dark abyss that seems to have no end.


I’ve wanted to start a blog for a really long time now, and I finally got the inspiration to after reading so many other blogs. I really like writing and it’s something I’m really proud of. I found my love for writing when my mom died when I was in 5th grade, it was the only thing that got me through. I had this language arts teacher, Ms. Street, she was amazing. I don’t remember much about language arts before my mom passed away but afterwards, it really caught my attention. It intrigued me. Ms. Street would have us free write and make poems, or at least I would free write. I would write about my mom, and I would go in front of the class and read it out loud. Ms. Street would cry and hug me every time I shared. When my mom died, I didn’t go to school for a really long time. She passed away in late January and I don’t remember going back to school until about late February, early March. I would sit in class with a notebook in front of me and write and space out, this went on for as long as I remember. Anyways, writing was the only thing that got me through. When my mom died, something inside of me died too. I changed quite a bit, I stopped sharing my feelings, or I just stopped feeling altogether… I would keep a journal and write everyday and sometimes I would let whoever I was living with read some pages. It was the only way I could express myself. I couldn’t talk about my feelings or my mom or anything really, I would only write it down. I stopped writing about my mom, and just about anything in 7th grade. I’m not sure why there was break but I lost interest in my writing. My papers became rusty and I felt horrible. I started back up in 8th and since then, I’ve just been writing my little heart out. I loved writing for my teachers and hearing their feedback and seeing their reactions when they would read my work. It was great. Now that I’ve graduated I won’t have any work to give to my teachers. Or at least for the summer because I’m going to Washburn University this fall. So I guess that also motivated me to start a blog. So here I am. I will also say that I am a really opinionated person, I have very strong beliefs and I’ve also taught myself to keep an open mind because everything isn’t always so black and white. You have to want to see more in order to see past your opinions and whatnot.

**Ms. Street, if you ever read this, I just want to thank you. Without you, I wouldn’t have been so passionate about writing. You made me believe in myself at such a young age.