I decided a moment ago, screw facebook
i'm going to see whats up with nexopia, yeee.
Then i realized, i don't even know how to work
this site anymore, pretty sad eh.

I miss the old nexopia days, where everyone used it. Now everbody's all like
"maaan, gotta get this shit up on fb." And so I'm like "fuck facebook"
and there like "fuck you". So fuck. Anyways, Im still technically grounded
but I get paid next friday so my moms letting me go see Alice in wonderland
and I'm really excited. That was my uh, random rant for the day.

I'm searching for thoughts, but find none
the drugs kick in and suddenly numb.
Pupils dilate and heart begins to fly
waited so long and finally high.
Colors merge from all around
all senses gone but sight and sound.
Mind is losing track of time
is experimentation such a crime?
The drugs enhance imagination
hallucination and frustration.
Reality fades to fantasy
what a fantastic tragedy.
"The roses are welting
the violets are dying".

Click. She’s holding the button down as she presses her lips close to the microphone. This usually means we’re about to start. Her voice is soft. Like an angel as she states “Dr. Tammy Gaulle, Case #386, from December 24th 1989. Patient is Vanessa Holden, age seventeen.’’
This is how every session starts. I can practically recite this backwards in my sleep. Well I could if I slept. I don’t even know what sleep is anymore. It’s just another faded thought. My chair makes a loud rubbing sound as I shift in the brown leather chair. The noise makes Tammy look up from her writing. She’s always writing, and so her head is always down. It wasn’t until just last week that I realized she had green eyes. Big green eyes. Big, bright green eyes to be more specific. She’s beautiful, and young. I asked her once if she was married. She said no. Said her job was too important for her to be getting involved with ‘silly love stuff’. Whatever that means.
“So Vanessa, where would you like to start today?” What she’s really saying is- just tell me why you did it. I just shrug. I’ve just noticed I’m fiddling with my fingers, I wonder how long I’ve been doing that. I wonder if Tammy noticed. “Vanessa, honey?”
I look up. “Would you like to talk about Rain today?” Ha, Rain. You’re probably wondering why she’d be asking me about the weather. But when Tammy says Rain, she’s not talking about the wet stuff that falls from the sky. She’s talking about the girl that lives in my head. My imaginary friend, she sometimes calls her. But Rain is real, she’s not fake. I didn’t make her up, so therefore, she is not imaginary. I stare blankly at the wall. Pondering the thought. Tammy is staring at me. I can feel her eyes. “Would you like to describe what she looks like?’’ she asks. I stare blankly again for a moment. But all of a sudden, I do want to talk. I want her to know about Rain. I want her to know that this is all her fault, not mine. I want her to know the reason my mother is dead. I want her to know that my father blamed her death on me just before he shot himself.
“She... she has long black hair. It covers one half of her face, and it’s really soft.” Normally I wouldn’t want to talk because she’s usually just asking me if I’ve recently had any nightmares. Or if I’m taking my medicine regularly and at the right times. Have you made any friends? But who’d want to be friends with someone who’s killed someone. No one sane would anyway. And I don’t go anywhere public where I’d have the chance to make friends, so the answer to that is the same every time. No.
She nods at me to go on, as she begins to write in her book. The sound of her pen scratching at the paper makes my ears want to bleed. But I don’t tell her that. I just carry on. “She always wears dresses. Long ones mostly, but sometimes short. They are always beautiful on her too. I could never wear a dress.’’ I pause. A long pause. I picture her so perfectly in my mind. And my eyes begin to cry. I hear my father voice. Reciting his last words to me.
“It’s your fault, you did this”... “You did this”... “Did this”... the words fade off. I hear my dad going up the stairs, exactly how he did that night. I hear him ruffling through the closet. I hear footsteps. I hear, silence. Bang!
I hear the gunshot. I hear the thud of his body hit the floor. I hear the gun drop. And again, I hear silence. I look up to see Tammy. But she’s not there.
I’m standing in my old living room. The Christmas tree is decorated. My mom is cooking dinner. My dad isn’t home yet. There’s Christmas music playing, it’s faint, but I can hear it. I look at myself in a mirror. I haven’t slept in two days. I remember this. I’m wearing a turtle-neck to cover the scratches on my neck. There on my wrists too. Sometimes Rain gets angry. She likes to hurt people. She likes to see people in pain. Sometimes she’d make me have dreams about me killing myself. That’s why I’m under suicide watch. That’s why I’ve been in counseling for two years. She loved seeing people in agony. She loved seeing them bleed. I remember. It’s
Christmas Eve, 1989. I’m living the night over again. Rain is sitting on the counter in the kitchen next to where my mother is cooking. My mom can’t see her. No one can, except me. Rain looks at me, she smiles. My mom looks at me she smiles too. I smile back, but my smile is weary. It feels forced. “Are you alright?” my mom asks. I nod. Tell her I’m just feeling a bit tired. Rain picks up a knife. “I want to play a game Vess, play with me” She laughs. Her laugh is terrifying. It echoes through my body. I back away.
She bounces down off the counter. Her white dress flowing with her every movement. I’m pinned against the fridge, she’s moving towards me. I wish she knew how to play nice. The hair is standing up on the back of my neck. I have goose bumps all over. My heart is racing. Most of the time when Rain wants to play, she just wants to hurt me, or watch me hurt myself. The cuts only burn for a moment. The scars, well those last a lot longer. She’s still walking over to me, taking her time, making me hate each second more. I could run, but I’d be punished more for that. She doesn’t like when she doesn’t get her way. I take a deep breathe. She holds the knife to my throat. I feel the cold blade against my skin, as I swallow loudly. Gulp. She see’s the terror in my eyes and giggles. I look around the room with my peripheral vision to find my mother, but she’s gone.
The doorbell rings. Dad! Rain looks it that direction. I grab the knife from her and push her away. “Mom!” I shout. “Help!”
Rain quickly dashes out around the corner. I swing the knife towards her back. This is where it happens. I remember. My mom, she was coming around the corner to see what was wrong. It was too late to stop. Her eyes looked deep in mine as she grabbed her chest. I got her right in the heart. She falls to the ground. I drop down beside her. “Get up!”…
“Please… That’s when my dad came in. The champagne bottle dropping from his hand and smashing on the floor in the door-way. He’s talking, but I don’t know what he’s saying. I’m concentrating on Rain, standing behind my father, and laughing. Always laughing. I point at her, and yell to my dad “Can’t you see her, I didn’t do this. Not on purpose” I’m crying. He’s yelling. She’s laughing. This is a mad house. My father turns his back on me and heads for the stairs. My mother’s body is limp and cold on the floor. Not breathing. Rain sits beside me. She listens with me. As my father goes up the stairs, into his bedroom, into the closet, grabs the gun, crosses the floor, cocks it, put’s it to his head. Bang. Thud. My heart is racing. I’m cold. I’m rocking back and forth in my chair. Tammy puts her hand on my shoulder; suddenly I’m aware that I’ve been talking this whole time. She clicks the button. Times up. She smiles at me. A comforting smile. She knows this was hard for me. It’s Christmas Eve, 1990, exactly a year after the incident, and I’ve finally got my side of the story out. Rain’s been gone for about three months now. I don’t know where she went or if she’ll return.
Tammy and I both hope not though. I grab my jacket off the hook on the wall. I’m going to my Uncles for Christmas. He and my Aunt are having me over for a dinner. I’m nervous. Hopefully this Christmas is better then the last.

I haven't blogged in quite sometime, and I feel the need to rant. So-
~I still need to find a grad dress
~I still need my micros done asap on my collar bones (excited)
~My tattoo needs to be done before Christmas (Lady bug on my foot)
~I'm going crazy thinking about all the shit I have to by for gifts
~I need more money so I need to pick up two more shifts during the week at work
~Blink 182 is the best right now, I'm pretty content with my ears
~I miss Deanna with my whole heart, and need to visit her asap
~LESS THAN A FUCKING MONTH BEFORE CHRISTMAS
~This boy, is so fucking cute holy shit. I like to bite his face =]
Anyways, never thought I'd say this but- I'm usually on facebook more
than nexopia now, so if you don't have me added, do that.
Alicia Wollen =)

I'm so tired of working morning shifts, so
friggen tiring, my God.

Shut the fuck up and quit fucking wining.

Kay, so I guess what I really have to say right now
is: I'm sorry you feel that way, I true friend wouldn't.

Yesterday was win. Unlimited energy results in six hour
conversations, forgetting what you were going to say half
the time, and movie watching, without actually watching the
movie. =) Good fucking times Ashton =)) It's a must do again.

Thursday October 1st-
Friday October 2nd- Hang out with Christian/ Drunk/ Watch Donnie Darko
Saturday October 3rd- Work 5am-1pm/ Amy's halloween birthday party/ Drunk
Sunday October 4th- Work 5am-1pm/ Brian's
Monday October 5th- Writing class
Tuesday October 6th- Library/ Go out with Nana
Wednesday October 7th- Work 3:30-10:00
Thursday October 8th-
Friday October 9th- Payday!/ ZOMBIELAND with Emily
Saturday October 10th- Work 5am-1pm
Sunday October 11th- Work 5am-1pm
Monday October 12th- No school/ Hang out with Ashton/ 6 hour convos ftw
Tuesday October 13th-
Wednesday October 14th- Work 3:30-10:00
Thursday October 15th-
Friday October 16th- Fright Night at the PNE =)
Saturday October 17th- Work 5am-1pm
Sunday October 18th- Work 5am-1pm
Monday October 19th- Writing class
Tuesday October 20th-
Wednesday October 21st- Work 3:30-10:00
Thursday October 22nd-
Friday October 23rd- Payday!/ Birthday Party/ Drunk
Saturday October 24th- Family Birthday B.B.Q/ Drunk
Sunday October 25th- Work 5am-1pm/ 17th Birthday =)
Monday October 26th- Brian's 17th Birthday/ Auntie Kim's Birthday
Tuesday October 27th-
Wednesday October 28th- Work 3:30-10:00
Thursday October 29th-
Friday October 30th- Andy's party bus
Saturday October 31st- Work 5am-1pm/ Halloween =)

My birthday is going to be on October 23rd, its going to be invite
only, don't get upset if you can't come =( It's nothing personal.
Its going to be byob, smoke all you want. Its a combined birthday
as well, for me, Brian Hannah and maybe Natasha Knull. Not sure
of the location yet, but its also going to be rave themed. So get
your bright clothes and body paint out =)
-No puking
-No trashing shit

ALSO: Who wants to go to frightnight on the 16th?
I need people to go with.

you're still the prettiest girl i've ever laid my eyes on.

Every time I sign in, its like there's 10 more shouts-
and so I click on it, and there all one word posts like
''wow'' or ''blah'' what's the point? I don't get it. If you're
going to post something, make it meaningful, don't bore
people, you know. Like fuck, I thought maybe someone
had something interesting to say, but no. But anyways,
that was my rant for the day, hope everyone has a good one =)