My Week at Bloomington Monday, May 6 2013

Well I have written about three people I met.  They had the most interesting stories, but they weren’t the only people I met.  There were plenty of people going in and out of the adult unit while I was there but I don’t really feel the need to write about them.  Instead, I have come to the part that I have been sort of dreading… Telling you my story.  I’m almost ashamed to say that what you are about to read is extremely true.

It started February 24 when I walked through the doors of Bloomington Meadows.  The sound of the Disney Channel was playing in the background and there was a woman professional hairstyle sitting behind the front desk.  I carefully approach, trying to find comfort behind my mom, like a small child hiding behind their mother’s skirt.  My eyes are fluttering about, taking in the plain decorations, words written on a wall that I don’t read, a man sitting in the lobby area laughing at something on the television.

My mom and the receptionist exchange words, my sister holds her intense glare at the walls, or the floor, or anything stationary.  We sit in the lobby and I study the grown man watching the Disney Channel.  Is he a patient here? I wonder.  But instead of worrying about this, I start to anticipate what is behind the doors that separate me from the “crazies”.

“Shyanne?”  I stand up and turn around.  My mom and sister also rise.  “Do you want them to come with you?”

“I’d rather do this alone.” I turn to my mom who nods her head then sits back down.

The man introduces himself and we go to a small room with pictures of childish ants covering the walls.  I stare at the basket holding pens, tissues, and a blood pressure cuff.  I explain why I’m there to him and he nods his head slowly.

Everything that happens next happened so quickly, I never really got a grasp on it.

Our conversation ended.  I was checked in.  My mom’s crying.  Now they’re gone.  I’m changing into paper thing clothes.  I take a frigid shower that makes it hard to breathe.  I’m cold.  New faces.  What are their names?  Group session now.

Before I knew it, I was now a patient at Bloomington Meadows.  I was here because I had tried to kill myself.

In my first group therapy session I told my story to faces I didn’t know.  The looks they gave me were of shock and disbelief.

I had met a someone online on a website that I thought was meant to help people who were suicidal not kill their-self.  I later realized that the person I was talking to wasn’t all they had said they were.  I began to suspect that this person was actually involved in something illegal, and unethical.  Something like human/sex trafficking.

In August of last year, I took a gun and placed it to my head.  However, I was unable to pull the trigger.  That was when I joined that website, to get help so that I wouldn’t want to pull the trigger.  However, it didn’t help.  But I knew that I was too afraid to pull it myself.  So I decided to have this person do it for me.

I had purchased the ticket, packed my bag, and already rode a plane from Indianapolis to Chicago.  I was waiting to board the flight to Scotland when I was pulled of by Chicago police because I was, as my mom had put it to them, “a danger to myself and others.”  It was then that I was labelled with that, A Danger to Self.  I still carry that label, but I hope to shed it in the near future.

From Chicago O’Hare I begrudgingly went to my grandparent’s house.  I was still wanting to get on the plane and have my life ended for me by getting involved in this human trafficking thing.  Everything in my life changed that day.  My mom looked at me differently; my sister glared at me; many tears were shed; and I was an emotionless zombie.  All I wanted was to die.  Seeing my family in this turmoil made me want to scream, but nothing came out.  Instead I sat with my arms crossed and my gaze cast downward.  No matter what anyone said to me, I refused to show emotion… which only made it worse.

As I explained this to the group they stared silently.  “Wow,” was all Sue could say.  Then Kelly, my roommate who was there for cutting and detoxification, laid her hand on my arm and gave a gentle squeeze.  I slightly smiled then asked for them to move on.

The next day was when Nancy showed up.  She couldn’t believe it; she actually started crying.  She later told me that she was very glad I was taken from the plane because “you’re such a beautiful girl with a beautiful heart.”

Over the course of nine days I made many friends who didn’t last.  In physical therapy there were the girls who always talked cautiously when around us, as if one wrong word from their mouth could cause us all to go into a suicidal frenzy.  In expressive therapy, there was the friendly (but blunt) black woman who said I was stupid because the traffickers wouldn’t just kill me, they would use and abuse me first.  “That’s no way to die, sweetheart.  You better die an old lady or I’m going to kill you.”  (Yeah, never made sense to me either..)  Sue, who was my biggest supporter.  She was sweet but very blunt as well.  We called her the tree-killer because we all leave there with bulging folders filled with inspirational papers.

My week at Bloomington changed my life completely.  Every day I grow a little stronger mentally.  Every day my heart sympathizes for the people who have yet to seek the help they so desperately need.

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If you or someone you know is dealing with depression, suicidal thoughts or actions, self-harming, or anything of the sort, please seek help.  Call the Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255   Don’t give up.  The help you need is out there.

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Bloomington Meadows (Part III) Saturday, May 4 2013

For my next installment, I would like to talk about Jimmy.  Jimmy had also arrived a day or two prior to my arriving.  When I arrived I noticed that he seemed too happy to be in an asylum, but I figured that meant that the doctor’s here knew what they were doing.

After everyone had regrouped after Alyssa’s story, Sue turned to Jimmy who had been snoring lightly.  “Jimmy!” Sue snapped, “Wake up!” Jimmy woke up with a grunt and wiped the drool that had collected on his cheek.

“What?” he growled like a hibernating bear.  Sue explained what we were doing and asked him to recount why he was there.  He let out a long sigh and said, “I have anger issues.”  I was very curious because the Jimmy I had met was fun-loving, sweet, and always game for a laugh.  “I’m here because some guy was talkin’ crap and I wanted to punch his face in.  We were gonna meet after school but the principal stopped it.  He’s the one who said I should go here.”

Sue nodded thoughtfully as the girl next to me doodled and let out a small giggle.  Sue then looked at her watch and let us out for a half hour of free time.  Most everyone went to the day room to watch T.V., I followed them and sat down a seat away from the girl who had been to my left during group.  Jimmy sat at the front of the day room, closest to the television.  During a commercial Jimmy turned around and studied me.  He then got up and started lazily walking around.  He then asked me why I was there.  I simply shrugged my shoulders and gave the floor a sad smile.  “I’ve been here twenty times.”  I then show the floor a confused look and glance up the guy.  He looked no older than eighteen and I could he had some sort of learning disability, but could he really have been in a mental hospital twenty times?

“I’ve been coming here since I was eight years old.  I’m twenty-two now.” I nodded my head.  I was being very quiet because I was still feeling insecure in my blue scrubs.  “I’m still in high school, this is actually my last year because the special needs program won’t let people over twenty-two go.”  I didn’t understand why he was telling this all to me while I was being rude to him.  I listened but I was still very grumpy about being here and being stripped of my personal possessions, especially my clothes.

The program came back on and Jimmy turned to it then sat back down with a thud.  I stood up and asked for my bedroom door to be unlocked so that I may lie down.

The next day, Jimmy refused to wake up for breakfast… and morning group… and physical therapy… and lunch.  When the group arrived back from lunch, we found a very tired Jimmy sitting in a chair with his head down.  He then slept through group therapy as well.  Jimmy enjoyed sleeping.

Two days later Jimmy got news that he was going to be able to go home.  What was usually great news, turned out to be Jimmy’s bad news.  When he came out of the psychiatrist’s office he looked angry.  With him having the label as a “Danger to Others”, I was afraid.  He then walked down the hallway and slammed his fist into his locked door.  Sue immediately tried to calm him down but it only made him kick the walls harder.  Sue, who is about 4 feet tall, refused to give up trying to calm him down.

It took about an hour, but Jimmy did stop beating against the defenseless walls.  However, I was still very wary of him and refused to get too close to him.  The reason he didn’t want to go home was because his foster parents were not letting him go to a school sleep over.  They knew that the kid that Jimmy was angry at was going to be there and they didn’t want to risk Jimmy getting into more trouble.

Personally, I don’t think Jimmy was ready to go home.  If he’s going to beat walls because he can’t go to sleepover, he’s going to hit more kids because they look at him wrong.  I mean, I fully hope that he doesn’t go to Bloomington Meadows again, but I’m willing to bet that he will be… many more times.

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Bloomington Meadows (Part II) Wednesday, May 1 2013

The next person I would like to talk about is Alyssa (I honestly can’t remember her name, but I’m pretty sure it started with an “a”).  She arrived a couple of days before me, remember that Nancy showed up a day or two after so I’m definitely not going in order of appearance.  I will forewarn you though, Alyssa’s story will most likely bring you to tears as it did me.

The first group session I went in to I was extremely shy, a little agitated, and definitely not willing to participate without a lot of huffing and puffing from Sue, our group leader.  The first thing we do, since I’m new, is introduce ourselves and how we wound up at Bloomington Meadows.  Alyssa starts with a grin that says she’s told this story over thirty times already and now it wasn’t so hard to say.  She starts off by saying she’s a “Danger to Others”, in case the title doesn’t spell it out, she has some hostility towards other people.  ”Well, actually,” she starts, “I’m a danger to other. Not others.”  This intrigued me.  I stopped staring at my hands in my lap and looked up at her.  This was the first time I noticed her dyed red, scraggly, loosely curly hair, long-sleeved sweater, and pajama pants.  She was sitting cross-legged in the chair and rocking back and forth a bit nervously.

“All right, well… Basically…”  and here I notice that maybe I was wrong in assuming her story is now easy to tell after saying it countless times.  I notice my fellow group members shift uncomfortably, the lady sitting to my left slowly pushes the tissue box closer to Alyssa.  I’m now so curious that I lean forward, prop my head on my hand, and stare at the pale, pimple scarred girl.

“I spiraled into depression a few months ago.  I didn’t get out of bed, never showered, everything seemed like too much.  I didn’t know what to do, or how to continue with my life when his had been ended.”  Sue mumbles something that I assume was “Who’s life?” even though she knows already.  ”My son’s.”  I draw in a breath.  I bite back the tears as she continues on, sometimes laughing nervously, forever staring at the table as she rocked back and forth.

“I came home one day after work to find my son dead, my then-boyfriend’s little girl seriously injured, and his son injured as well.  I didn’t know what to do so I screamed.  I remember him trying to grab me but I threw him off.  I asked him what happened and he said that kids had been playing to roughly.  I broke down crying because I knew he was lying and that he had done it.”

Now I start to cry. Without me realizing it, the girl next to me presses a tissue into my hand as she sniffles.  Alyssa continues on, rocking a little faster, laughing a little louder.  ”When the police got there they immediately arrested him. I called my mom and she came over.  I went to go stay with her.”  I notice that her sentences are getting choppy, and a little scattered.

Then she jumps a bit and says: “I want to kill him.  He’s out there walking around.  His daughter now has severe brain damage, she wasn’t born with special needs, but now she will have to live with that for the rest of her life.  That bastard robbed her of a normal life. I want to see them again.  I want my son back.  He was so beautiful.  He always smiled.  He was beautiful.  I can hear his laugh and giggles, or the smooth sound of his sleeping. I loved him so much.”

As I’m taking this all in, my body feels numb, my vision is blurred from the tears, and I can’t form any words.  I want to console her, or say something… anything. But I can’t.  Alyssa is cursing as she briefly recounts the trial.  He went to jail for a few weeks, then got out on bail.  He is now fighting to get custody of his children.

“I swear, if he gets custody… I’ll find him, and I’ll kill him.”  This is when Sue steps in and does her counseling thing to make sure she pushes down the thoughts of killing the man and turns them into thoughts of when her son was alive.

I think I forgot to mention but Alyssa’s son was 2, the young girl was 3, and his son was 5.  Very young children who lost everything because one man got violent for, what seems like, no reason at all.

Alyssa stayed there for a few more days.  She left with still a lot of pain in her and hatred for him, but I don’t think there is any amount of counseling that can extinguish the hate for someone killing your child.

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Bloomington Meadows Wednesday, Apr 10 2013

Hello reader!  I’ve had something on my mind lately, and I figured what better place to let it out than on my blog that I have neglected for quite some time?

So here’s the rundown of what I’m about to say. In February, I had probably the worst weeks of my life.  After a failed suicide attempt I went to a mental hospital called Bloomington Meadows.  I spent nine days in this lovely place and met many amazing people.  So what has brought this up, you may be asking yourself.  Well, I want to tell their, and probably my, stories with you; because they are truly amazing.  I think I need to tell these stories because they enlightened me, and hopefully they’ll enlighten you.

I want to start with a woman who touched me the most.  While in Bloomington we were told to only use first names to keep an air of anonymity.  This woman’s name is Nancy.  Nancy came into Meadows the day after I did, so on a Monday afternoon.  What I remember seeing first was her slow walk.  It was almost a stumble, as if the act of picking up her foot, moving it forward, then placing it on the ground was too much to bear.  She was dressed in the cheap blue scrubs that everyone donned when they first entered the asylum.  This was all you wore too, just a thin paper shirt, thin paper pants, and thick blue socks with rubber catches on the sole.  You felt exposed, naked, as if everyone could easily see through the thing layer of paper and judge the way you looked underneath.  If you ever go into Meadows, one thing you may notice is that everyone, and I honestly mean everyone, will have their arms crossed over their chest when wearing the blue scrubs, to protect themselves from the new faces.

Nancy had tears rolling down her face as she was carefully introduced.  She kept her face cast downward but the sound of her sniffles were loud.  I didn’t know anything about this woman yet except for her name.  But I could guess that she too had recently been through a failed suicide attempt.  I can accurately say this because she had large bandages wrapped around her forearms that were already bleeding through.  I pitied the older woman so when our tech introduced me I smiled and waved at Nancy.  However, Nancy didn’t notice for she was carefully studying the carpeting.  When the introductions were over, Nancy turned to Molly, the tech, and asked to lay down for she was very tired.  Molly unlocked Nancy’s bedroom door and that is where she stayed for two days.

Before I continue, I would like to talk a bit about Bloomington Meadows. This place is for the mentally ill.  Many of the people there are there because of depression, anxiety, anger issues, and so on.  It’s actually mostly kids and teenagers.  There’s a small adult unit with only nine beds.  I just barely made it into the adult unit.  In order to get into the adult unit you must be 18 years or older.  So I was the baby of the group.  Also, people are always coming and going.  The typical stay is about five to seven days.  Unless you’re a residential, then your stay is three to six months.  Many of the residential’s are  foster children.  A typical day at Meadows goes as follows:

- You are woken up at 7:30am and are given 30 minutes to get up and get ready for breakfast.

- Breakfast at 8am.  The adults are typically alone so it’s nice and quiet.

- We go back to the unit to take showers, get dressed, and such.

- Around 9am is usually when we have morning/goals group.  This is where we sit in the group room and write down how we feel and what our goals for the day are.

- 11am is recreational therapy.  We go to the gym and will usually play a game of some sort.

- 12pm is lunch.

- Now we have group therapy with the therapist.  This is usually where we “talk about our feelings” and such.

- Free time! Most people will take a nap, or play a game, or watch some television.

- Some days around 3pm we’ll have expressive therapy (arts and crafts). This was always my favorite because I love to paint and draw.

- Dinner is at 5pm.

- Now we have wrap up group. Here we discuss whether or not we made our goals, had  a good day, and so on.

- Phone time. We can now call our family members and say hello.  I always looked forward to talking to my mom or grandma.

- Then it’s bed time.

Oh I think I forgot to mention that they check up on you every fifteen minutes. Even at night… with flashlights.. that they shine in your face.

Now back to Nancy.

After two days of refusing to get out of bed, the staff threatened to not bring her a room tray for her meal that she finally got up and came to the cafeteria with everyone else.  I and the fellow adults were very cautious when we were around her.  We all knew that she was very fragile without having to say anything.  I tried to engage her in a conversation but she simply shook her head and wept slightly harder.  When we got back to the unit, Nancy went to her bed again.  My room was across from hers and as I went to use the rest room, I heard her crying.  I felt sorry for her, but also curious as to why she tried to kill herself.  But I knew she’d be hard to talk to, for she was always crying.

The next day was worse for her.  The staff had decided that they would now force her to interact with her fellow adults.  When she got out of bed, they shut her door and refused to let her lay down during the day.  This made her frustrated which then led to her crying.  I noticed her face for the first time.  She had deep wrinkles all over her face, her eyes were large and slightly gray and filled with sorrow.  Her mouth never turned up into a smile, it was always stoic.  She had gray hair but was the kind of woman who looked good with gray, like it was meant to be.  She was constantly running her fingers through the short hairs.  Her glasses were normal, they fit her face and her age (which I guessed to be late 40′s, early 50′s).

As Nancy walked out, I bid her a good morning.  And for the first time, I saw her lips turn into a straight line instead of the frown that had made its nest on her face.  I chose to accept this slight movement as a smile and I felt my heart reach out to her.  Her steps were still slow and short, but they weren’t as forced anymore.  She wasn’t crying as much, but I could tell she could be easily triggered.

As we went to breakfast, Nancy was able to keep up because the pace was usually very slow.  I was almost always at the front of the pack for walking slowly annoys me.  However, today I lagged a bit and matched pace with Nancy.  ”It’s nice to see you out.” I tentatively said to her.  This time, I got half of a smile, and like the Grinch, my heart grew two sizes.  Her smile was simple and beautiful.  Her eyes still looked sad and in pain, but that smile gave me hope that no one is a lost cause.  I sat across from Nancy at the table and though we didn’t talk much, I felt a friendship start to grow.

At the next group therapy session, Nancy finally talked.  She didn’t say much at all, mostly just mumbling, but this was the most we’ve heard from her in the four days she had been there.  I couldn’t really hear what she was saying, but she was shaking her head in her hands and crying more.  I handed her a tissue and again, she smiled.

Sometimes it’s little things like smiles that feel like huge miracles.

Day five is when we find out why Nancy slit her wrists.  In a group session we’re all talking about what led up to us being in Meadows.  We get to Nancy and we’re expecting her to pass, to shake her head and maybe lose another tear or two.  But she lifts her head, takes a steadying breath, and opens her mouth.

Nancy has a husband, a son, and a daughter.  She didn’t want kids.  This was the first shock to us.  She started crying and through her sobs she told us she loves her kids but she never wanted them.  She can’t keep up with them and it stresses her out. She doesn’t know how to text or use a cell phone or really any kind of electronic.  Her daughter is overweight and when Nancy tries to help her, her daughter gets defensive and Nancy doesn’t know what to do.  She and her husband no longer have sex.  It’s been years, she said.  ”But neither of us miss it.  It was never that great anyways.”  The older women shake their heads as they pity her.

“I locked myself in the bathroom.  I had everything I needed.  I did it knowing my kids would find me dead and covered in blood.  I didn’t even care. But it was my husband who found me because he forgot his briefcase for work.”  Tears are streaming down her face and her sentences are broken as she tried to tell us why and how she got to Meadows.  We’re all very silent as her sobs and words fill the air.  When she stops talking and tries to contain her sobs, we continue to stay silent.  No one wants to disturb it yet, for much of the information is still floating in the air and has yet to settle on us.  I barely breathe as all the words begin to settle on me like dust.  I absorb them and begin to digest it.  No one knows what to say or do, not wanting to disturb the thick air between us but also not wanting to suffocate under it.  I look at Nancy, who is still sobbing into the tissue I gave her.  I slowly stand up and walk over to her and envelope her in a hug.  The sobbing gets louder so I squeeze tighter and rub her arms.  It isn’t long until big fat tears are rolling down my face and dropping onto her shoulder.

We quickly finished group.  I go out to the common room and have a seat in a chair.  I pull out some playing cards and shuffle them in my hands.  Nancy sits next to me in a similar chair and holds her head in her hands.  ”Do they hurt?”  I ask.

“They hurt a lot.” I nodded my head and continued to focus on my shuffling.  ”When I made the first cut it didn’t even bleed.”

“How’s that possible?”

“I’m not sure.  But I saw something in my arm sort of pulsing so I poked it and that’s when I started to bleed.  Then I did the other arm. It was harder but I somehow managed to do it.  I didn’t really feel it at first.  It was just this numb feeling.” She was talking to her forearms and using a very frank voice.  I listened silently as she explained the whole operation in detail.  ”I wish I had succeeded,” were her final words.

“Don’t say that, Nancy.  I’m thankful  you didn’t succeed.  If you let this place help you, you’ll get better.”  I watched her face drop as she shook her head.

“They’re talking about electroshock therapy.”  I gave her a confused look so she explained. “They’re going to send electricity through me and hopefully that will help with my depression.  I’ve tried every drug there is, and none of it works.  This is a last resort.”

“Wow..” was all I could manage to say.  The idea of being electrocuted was scary to me, I could only imaging how it made her feel.

The next day Nancy talked about how she once took a road trip by herself. She had gotten her palm read and remembered a few things from the reading.  On both of our palms there was a break in our life line.  We agreed that this was our suicide attempts.  Fortunately both of our life lines continue after the break.  I know I’m now past the break in my palm, and I”m pretty sure Nancy is close.

Nancy still had up and down days, but I noticed her slowly getting better.  I was released before she was, so I don’t know if she ever got electroshock therapy, but whether she did or didn’t, I just pray that she no longer has thoughts of suicide.  I think about her just about every day.  She touched me dearly and maybe someday I’ll run into her, I hope so, and she’ll be doing much better.

Nancy, if by some amazing stroke of God you read this, just know that someone is thinking about you and cares about you.  I hope you’re doing okay and are enjoying life now.  Your life is special and you should not sever what God has given you.

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White as Snow, Red as Blood (Part III) Sunday, Dec 30 2012

Again, most apologies..  I’ll try to get on some sort of schedule with this, but I think this one is just going to be sporadic.  There’s a lot going on in my life right now, and unfortunately, my blog is last on my list of things to do. But you can still enjoy it!! :)

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Album marched through the dancers on the dance floor and went straight up to her father.  “Father! How could you? You should have given me a chance to answer for myself.  So now, if we get involved with this war, everyone is going to be cross with me because I ‘refused’ to marry this man.”

The king sighed and sat up.  He straightened his vest and looked at his daughter, arms folded across her chest and chin jutted out.  “Sweetheart, we all know you would have refused…”

“No. I want to marry him. I don’t want us to be in war. We just got out of a bloody war.”

The king’s eyes grew wide.  “Are you serious? You must be drunk. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”  Album started to protest but he shooed her away.  “Go enjoy the party!”

Album left but didn’t dance or drink or eat like everyone else.  She went out into the snow and enjoyed the barren landscape.

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“No! I’m serious. Write him a letter.  Besides, aren’t the people to the north wealthy?”  Album and her father had been fighting all morning. Album refused to let their people go into another war and her father insisted that she not be married to someone she did not love.

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter.  We’re fine here, and with this new union we’re even better.  There is nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, except a freaking war! Father, why are you being like this?  I’m going to write the bloody letter myself.”  Her father sighed, obviously beaten and handed his daughter the paper.  “Thank you.”

Album wrote a letter claiming that she would accept the proposal and live with the prince in the northern lands.  She folded it and sealed it with wax.  She stepped outside and asked the waiting servant to make sure it got to the northern king.  The man bowed then walked away and Album went to the library to waste away the rest of her day in books.

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“Father, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.  You always worry too much.” Album adjusted the shimmering white dress for the umpteenth time and checked her hair in the mirror yet again.  Her black hair was slightly curled and hung around face, giving her a stunning appearance.

She and the prince had met and not wasted any time.  The wedding was put together in a matter of two weeks and soon Album would become the Queen of the northern lands.

There was a knock at the door and the wedding planner walked in looking stressed; these past two weeks had been hard on her.  “Album, we’re ready when you are.”  Album nodded her head and smoothed her dress one more time before turning and walking out of the small room that served as her changing room.

Her father offered his elbow to her.  His face was set in a frown as they walked to the large double doors.  Her family and the prince’s family were on the other side, waiting for her to walk down the aisle.  She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

The prince was a very handsome man.  His face was strong, his gaze never faltered; he was a very confident man.  He probably loved someone, beautiful men always find beautiful women to love.  Album scanned the crowd, trying to see if she could find resentment in any one’s eyes.

She and her father reached the bottom of the altar and he kissed her cheek and helped her up the two steps where she stood next to the prince.  They stood in silence as the priest blessed them and their marriage.  They exchanged rings and kissed gently on the lips.  Album felt nothing for this man.

They gracefully walked back down the aisle as a roar of applause filled the room. They stepped outside and ran to the horse-drawn carriage under a shower of hard rice.  The coachman flicked the reins and the horses hooves clicked against the stone road.  Album and Prince Brian rode the carriage ride in silence. Neither even tried to start a conversation.  They reached the castle and Brian helped her out of the carriage.

“So now we plaster on smiles and pretend we’re in love.” Album looked at the prince and saw the frown on his face. She felt no sympathy for the man and only wished to get this over with.

“Are you good at acting?” she offered her dry humor with a small smile.  The prince let his head hang down and he ran his hand through his thick brown hair and sighed.  “You’re in love with someone, aren’t you?” The prince stared at his black dress boots and nodded his head.  “Well, you need to forget her. You agreed to this marriage and that’s you’re own damn fault.”

“Love you too sweetheart,” he said in a condescending tone.

“I don’t love you.” Then the king came out of the large doors and started down the steps but stopped halfway down to catch his breath.   Brian and Album walked up the steps and greeted the man.  He was coughing and wheezing. They helped him back up the steps and joined the reception.

Album and Brian put on their fake smiles and pretended to enjoy the night. But they both knew that this was going to be a rough marriage.

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White as Snow, Red as Blood (Part II) Wednesday, Oct 24 2012

Sorry it took so long to publish part II! Between work and school, it’s hard to find time to write on here.  I’ll try and publish part III in a more timely manner :) Enjoy.

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The wedding was droning on and Album was at her wit’s end.  The priest was a slow talking man, who constantly had to stop to gather his thoughts.  She greatly contrasted to the white beauty she was standing next to.  Although Album was beautiful, there was something about Stella that seemed to draw every man’s eye.  Album’s foot tapped loudly on the marble floor and the priest looked up from his bible, trying to locate where the annoying sound was coming from.

“Um… Right… Uh… You may now kiss your bride.”  He finally finished.  The congregation erupted into a roar of applause and cheers, save for Album.  She was still tapping her foot, arms crossed over chest, and clenching the bouquet of flowers in her hand.

Her father and new step mother ran down the aisle under a downfall of rose petals.  Album sighed and followed them out the door.  There was going to be a huge reception, and she was dreading it.

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“How old are you?” Stella asked.  She looked at Album with a fascinated look that seemed fake.  Album grunted before replying with a mumble.  “What was that?  I didn’t quite hear you.”
“I said that I’m eighteen. How old are you?” she snapped back.

The new queen seemed taken aback and stuttered as she replied, “I’m nineteen.”  Album laughed and wondered how her father could fall in love with this woman.

The party was in full swing and everyone was enjoying themselves as they ate and danced.  Album sulked in a corner and eventually slipped away from the crowd.  She went to the garden and admired all of the dead plants and white snow.

“You never were on for parties,” said a voice from behind Album..  She jumped around and faced her attacker.  The man laughed and told her to calm down, Album then recognized the man swallowed him in a hug.

“William!  Where have you been hiding?”  They both laughed as they fell to the snow.

“I’ve been looking for you, though it should have been easier.  I’m pretty sure you’re the only woman wearing black here.”  Album blushed and sat up.

“I don’t agree with this marriage.  Something about it just seems off.” Album looked at her childhood friend and felt, for the first time in a long while, safe.

“Well, if they are in love, there’s not much you can do about it.”  Album scoffed at William’s comment and continued along the snow-covered path.  “Look, all I’m saying is that you should just suck it up and move on.”

“She’s one year older than me and I have to call her mom.  How do you ‘suck that up’?”  She looked at him then gave a small shove.  “You’re such a romantic.  It makes me sick.”

William gave her a slight shove and laughed.  “Better a romantic than an old brute, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t know.  I would probably feel safer with you if you were a brute, instead of a delicate flower.”  William laughed and got serious very quickly.

“I may turn into a brute.  I just got enlisted into your father’s army.”  Album stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

“What do you mean?  Why?  I thought that this marriage was going to end the war?”

William nodded his head.  “Yes but now spies in the north say that they are preparing to attack us.  They wanted a union too and your father refused.  Apparently they were demanding you marry the prince.”

“How did I not know this.  That’s just great.  Now we’re going to be in war again because I won’t marry someone, when I didn’t even know that was an option.”

William laughed, “You wouldn’t marry him anyways.  I think that’s why your father answered for you.  Save him the trouble of receiving your temper.”  Album crossed her arms and turned around.  She stomped back to the castle were she planned on approaching her father.

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White as Snow, Red as Blood Sunday, Sep 16 2012

Too bad Snow White and the Huntsman was taken! :) I’m joking! I like my title… I bet you know what’s coming up!!!  Another speculative fiction! Woo!  This time, I’m not going to base it off of any certain one’s version.  I’m to make this one as much as my own as I possibly can, but that may be hard considering that there are so many versions!  Enjoy :)  By the way, her name is Album because that is Snow in Latin. :)

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A blanket of pure white snow-covered the castle grounds and had not yet been disturbed.  Album looked out her window and smiled for she loved the snow, and this was the first snow of the season.  She turned around and walked out of her spacious room.  The hallway was cold and the servants were bustling around to all of the rooms to light fires.  Album could not wait to step into the snow.

As she stepped outside, she let out a sigh of relief.  It had been a long hot summer, and now it was to be a cold winter.  Her bare feet stepped into the snow and immediately started to sting but she did not care.  She walked along the snow-covered path and she admired a lone red rose among the barren landscape.  “How peculiar..” she thought.  She went to pick the beautiful rose but stopped when a thorn pricked her finger.  She cursed and sucked on the finger, but not before three droplets of blood fell to the white snow.

Her finger was bleeding more than it should have, she had merely been pricked by the thorn.  However, her finger was bleeding as if she had severed it.  She walked back to the castle with her finger in her mouth.  She went through the great doors and ran into her father.  “Album!  Your lips are as red as blood.  What happened?”

“That damned rose out there.  I went to pick it and it pricked my finger.  Cursed thing won’t stop bleeding.”  She continued to suck, and wondered why it had not stopped bleeding yet.

“A lady should not talk like that.  Go and see the nurse; she’ll help you.”  Album nodded and set out to find the nurse, whom she did not care for.  As she walked down the hallway, the servants would quickly find a new route so that they would not cross paths with her.  She turned a corner sharply and found the nurse helping a small boy with a scrapped knee.

“Nurse!  My finger; it won’t stop bleeding.”  The small boy quickly got off of his chair and ran down the hallway away from Album.  The nurse motioned for her to sit down on the chair, and Album did so.

“Let’s see it,” the nurse reached for her hand and Album jerked it back.

“That hurt!  Don’t hurt me,” she scowled.

“Oh, I barely touched it.  Give it here,” the nurse grabbed her wrist and abruptly brought it close to her.  The blood was now spilling over and landing on the floor in small droplets for Album had not sucked on it for a few seconds.  “I’ll put a bandage on it try to make it stop bleeding.  But you shall live to tell the tale.”  The nurse gave her a condescending smile.

Album jerked her arm back and grunted as she left the nurse.  She then went back to her room to change out of her nightdress.

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“Father, you barely know this woman.  Do you really think you should be marrying her?”  Album was sitting in a large lounge chair in her father’s bedroom.  The king was putting on his most expensive clothes and was about to don his crown.

“Album, I love her.  I know that your mother’s death has been a shock for the both of us, but Stella will be good for both us.  And I know her well, we were friends while your mother was still alive.”  He was straightening his crown now.

“More like you were sleeping with her.”  Album mumbled.

“I heard that, young lady.  And I do not appreciate your accusations.  We were simply friends.”

“Is that why mother killed herself?  Because you loved another woman and not her?  Is that why you two were always fighting?”

The king slammed his fists down onto his vanity.  “I have had it.  Leave, now.  And put on a proper dress.  You know it’s disrespectful to wear black to a wedding.”

Album stood up and left the room with no intentions of changing her dress.

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I’m Alive! Friday, Sep 14 2012

Guy in front of me stopped… I stopped… She didn’t get the memo.

Hello to all of my avid readers!  I am terribly sorry I have not written anything in a long while.  I just needed a break and focus on my life for a little bit.  It’s been quite a few crazy months.  I have started college, was in a car accident and lost my beloved van :(  I don’t want to do anything too special with this post, I’m really tired right now and just taking a break from my math homework.  But I would like to share some intimate thoughts that I have been lately… nothing crazy, just giving you a sneak peek into my mind.

Basically how I feel…

After my high school graduation I made the empty promises of promising to keep in touch with friends.  It has failed.  I have seen one friend out side of school and it was eye-opening as to why I have distanced myself from my peers.  This friend that I saw, well, she has always been a little annoying to me.  Every conversation is the same… “I had this dream last night..” “I met this boy online and we are totally in love…” “That boy I met online turned out to be a jerk…” “I just met someone else I will never actually meet…”  (some of those are paraphrased.  After so long, this gets really annoying.  Now, I’m fine with talking about a freaky/interesting dream every now and then… but not every freaking morning.  Also, I don’t really want to hear about some guy that lives in Iowa that you only have talked to through a computer screen.  But she is obsessed with it and I fear that for her.

After this breakfast date, I started making false excuses as to why we couldn’t meet up again.  And we haven’t since… probably won’t for a very long time.  My other friends… well, let’s just say that it’s a great feeling to pop onto Facebook for second and see all of the wonderful things that my “friends” are doing without me.  I’ve tried to make plans with a couple of them… but something always “came up.” I would later see that that “family dinner” was actually a party I was not invited to.

I’m not trying to sound like “Oh woe’s with me! I hath no friends to call me own!”  But for a while, it was true.  However, in this friendless period, I grew closer to my sister and mom.  It’s been nice but I’m starting to feel the void of friendship.

But, lo and behold, I have made a few friends at work, and they are great! I’ve even met a boy… but that’s moving very slowly and I’m not very confident that it will go anywhere… anyways.  More complaining??  Nah… let’s look at the bright side of…. something…. anything.

I have started to find out who I am… And you know what?  I’m a FREAKING AWESOME PERSON! Whether you like it or not.  I have found out that I have always defined myself by the people around me… Now that I don’t have those people (boo hoo) I have realized that I do have a voice, I can have fun, and all of my so-called friends were not really fun.  They, and I, just thought that they were… but they’re not.  They’re still reliving their high school years… I’m moving on, because that’s over. Time to look into the future!

If you are someone who defines yourself with the people around you, take a step back. Even if you’re not that kind of person… just step back and look at the world through your eyes, and your eyes only.

I so mart! :D

It’s a weird feeling… figuring out who you actually are after 18 years… It feels like I have been living a lie.  I never realized, or wanted to admit how smart I was/am.  My “friends” weren’t really smart… but they were in all of the “smart classes”.  However, guess who tested out of every entry-level class in college and is now taking sophomore classes as a freshman (only because they won’t allow me to go any further)?  And then, guess who has to take a lot of high school classes in college and pay $$$$ for them… even though they were in “smart” classes?  That’s right… first answer: me!  second answer: dreamer girl.

So basically I am saying… Find out who you actually are, and love yourself!

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Hey Y’all! Wednesday, Jul 4 2012

Greenwood Meadows! Where they’re not bib’s… they’re clothing protectors!

Hey guys! Sorry I haven’t posted anything lately.. I’ve been trying to think of a new project to do… But I don’t know what… Any suggestions??

It’s me! But in male form!

Some fun things that have happened to me lately are, I got a new job! I now work at a cute little place called Greenwood Meadows. It’s an assisted living facility (or nursing home). I work in the Dietary Services (or I’m a waitress). I love it so much! All of these residents are so sweet!

Well.. I shouldn’t say all… I did get cussed out by an old man for not having any alcohol….

But I have found that many of them seem very sad. It’s depressing for me to see many of these residents never have family visit, or don’t seem to care about their lives anymore..
Anyways.. That’s the biggest thing that has happened as of late :)

Happy Independence Day!!!

To all who serve and risk their lives for us to be free! Thank you!

I love fireworks!!! :D

 

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Princes And Mermaids (Part IX) Friday, Jun 29 2012

Alas, we have reached the end of our Little Mermaid adventure.  Just to let you know, the very end is a bit different from Andersen’s…  But it’s similar.. if that makes any sense. :) Did you expect this ending??  Enjoy! :)

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Ariel woke up in darkness.  She had no idea what time it was, but saw that the moon was high in the sky.  She was still in her green dress, and it shimmered in the moonlight.  She slowly pulled the knife out of her under-dress and tested the weight in her hand.

She felt beside herself, like she wasn’t in her body.  She slowly walked over to the prince’s bedroom.  Ariel opened the door silently and walked in.  The knife was gripped in her hand as she looked at the bed.  Eric and Christina were in the bed, he was holding her in the arms that used to hold Ariel.

Ariel felt a bitter taste in her mouth and raised the knife above her head.  She stared at him.  His features were even more beautiful in the soft moonlight.  Tears started to fill her eyes and her vision was blurred.  She thought of what she was about to do, what was going to happen.  She was going to slay the prince and turn back into a mermaid.  She would return to the sea and live for over three hundred years, while the prince had merely a few minutes left to live.

Ariel dropped her arms to her sides.  She couldn’t do it.  He looked so happy with his new wife; how could Ariel ruin that for him?  She sat down on the floor with her back pressed against the bed and noticed that the moon was low in the sky now.  She sighed and stood up.

She stole one last look of the prince, and kissed his cheek lightly.  Ariel left the room silently and walked out to the beach.  She watched the sun start to rise in the horizon.  She first threw the knife far out into the sea and watched it splash in the water.

Ariel walked out to the edge of a pier.  She tried to speak, but nothing came out.  She wanted to say, “I love you more than anything,” but just settled with mouthing the words.  She stretched her arms out and slowly fell forward into the ocean.  She felt the water surround her and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to be turned into sea-foam.  Then everything went black and she left the world peacefully.

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Ariel’s eyes fluttered open.  She was surprised to see that she was floating in the air.  She sat upright, but found that she was sitting on a cloud.  “What the…” she grabbed her throat.  “I’m able to talk?  Where am I?”  She looked around but only saw clouds.  When she turned completely around she saw large golden gates.

Ariel stood up and was relieved to find that her feet no longer hurt.  She took one careful step, wondering if she was going to fall through the clouds, but she found that it was firm and safe.  She walked over to the large gates and tried to peer in but only saw rolling hills of white clouds.  “Hello?”  Ariel looked around but saw no one.  “Is anyone here?”

She began to wonder if she was going to live here in isolation for ever.  She couldn’t figure out why she didn’t just turn into sea-foam.  “Ariel,” the loud booming voice caused Ariel to scream and fall to her knees.  She covered her ears and trembled on the floor.  “Stand up, there is no reason to be afraid.”  Ariel barely opened one eye and saw a pair of sandaled feet standing in front of her.  She looked up and saw that the person was wearing a brown robe, as she continued to look up she saw a large brown beard.  “Please, stand up.”

Ariel did as she was told and was face to face with a man who seemed to hold a lot of power.  “Hello…” was Ariel could think to say.

The man chuckled.  “Do you know who I am?”  Ariel was ashamed that she did not.  “That’s okay, my child.  I’m the Lord Jesus.  I watch over the humans of the Earth.  I have watched you too, and I must say, you are a very interesting girl.”

“Thank you, sir.  May I ask why I am here?  I thought that I was supposed to turn into sea-foam.”

The man nodded thoughtfully.  “You were, but I saved you.  Your selfless act showed me that you deserve a second chance.  You now have an eternal life here in my palace.  Unless you would rather be sea-foam?”  He smiled and it caused Ariel to smile as well.

“I would be honored to live here, but I would feel out-of-place.  I know that some people have worshiped you for their entire life, and I have just met you.  I don’t think I have earned this.”

“My child, walk with me.”  They stepped through the opened gates in a beautiful garden.  Ariel wondered how this had gotten here, but decided to not question it.  “You are wiser beyond your years.  If I grant you permission to live here, then you may live here.  The people who live here all respect me and my decision, anyone who would question that does belong here.  This is a holy place and should only contain holy thoughts.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.  I understand.  And I would be honored to live here.”  He smiled and Ariel was confronted by a bright light.  “What’s going on?”

“Welcome to my kingdom, Ariel.”

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