Tessa decides to tell the truth

I haven't been here in a while, not ever since my older brother hijacked this blog and edited stuff to suit his story.

Oh, about the title... yeah. I'm going to tell the truth. I've stopped cutting, but the thing about this is that I'm going batshit crazy without it. I feel the urge to cut. But I was honestly suicidal a few months back. No one knew. And my guess was that no one really wanted to know. I had told my parents before, heatedly, in an argument, that one day I would kill myself, but they brushed it off and treated it as if it was nothing. Everywhere I went since the day of the argument, I saw ways for me to die: Tall buildings. Oncoming trains. Knives. Ropes. Even when I passed the police station, I’d think of going in to borrow their guns. I tried. I actually did. I tried to stab myself, strangle myself, but each time I shrank away from it. I was too scared. And each time, it made me want to kill myself even more, because I look down upon myself for trying and failing. I was a failure, right? Everyone said so, and everything I did proved it so. Until that night. I was resolved to do it. I was clumsy with the written word when I was emotional so I decided to give my friend a ring instead. It was late into the night and I didn’t suspect he’d be awake, so I didn’t expect him to pick up. When he did, however, I remember putting it down immediately, and him calling and calling. And when I picked up, I heard him say, “It’s okay. I’m here for you.” And I broke down. I cried. I just wanted to tell him goodbye, that I’m sorry for not being there for him if he needed me… and by those few words, he brought me back. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but after I cried I told him I was sorry. I was sorry for trying to kill myself. I was sorry for not opening up. I was sorry for not telling him, because we never kept secrets from each other. He told me to keep calm and put whatever I was holding down, go back to my room, and sleep it off. And the next day he came over and gave me a paper crane, which is the main reason I’m still alive today.

The paper crane still sits in my room.

I don't even know why I want to tell all of you this. My guess is that not many people read this blog, and not olot of people actually know that in the back of my mind, this blog still lives, and that one day, when I'm bothered enough, I should revive it. And I have. But I don't think people are going to read this... but this has gotten a load off of my back. My friend moved away a few weeks ago. He was suicidal and depressed like me, and all I can do now is hope he reads this and knows that even though I never told him "Thank you", I hope he knows that I'm grateful for him for saving my life... for not getting mad at me when I kept it from him... for olot of things. 

Also, I want people to know. I want someone to know what happened. I didn't even tell my friend that, but I guess I find comfort in telling people things through my keyboard. Maybe I'll remain anonymous forever. I don't know. But I want people to know the truth; I want people to know my story.

I want a comfort to know that when I die, if I die, I won't be taking this with me to my grave.

Fine. Fine. Fine. Monitor every fucking thing I do.

It's not like I want to be monitored. I mean, who does? I can't talk like I want to, I can't walk like I want to. They monitor how I talk, what I talk, what I eat, who I hang out with, and I obviously lie to them. I've been telling so many damned lies I'm going to go to hell for this. I'm already in hell, anyway. I don't see the difference.

Whatever. Call me ignorant. Call me fucking stubborn. I don't give a flying fuck. This is who I am, and who I want to be. You can't make me change myself to suit you. I will not. I will never do that. Ever.

I hate this black and white environment. I want colour. I want change. I want something more than being a keyboard warrior and sitting behind a fucking computer screen typing and venting my anger in an online diary nobody will ever read. I want something more than those eagle eyes, staring into my back. You may not think that I know, but I catch it. When I look up, you're looking at me. When I look up, you advert your gaze and shift your eyes off to the side. What in fucking hell is wrong with me? Am I not deserving of my own privacy? Why can't I do the things that I want to do, ever? Why do I have to account for my actions to you? You don't govern my life. You don't even own my life.

By naming something, you own it, that's what I read somewhere. So if you named me, you own me. I hate that mindset now. I hate it. I truly hate it. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don't want to cry anymore. Sometimes I wish I wasn't born with tear ducts, because the tears burn my face, as if they were acid. As if my face was so volatile it reacted with water to kill me from within. I hate those salty droplets of water that sprout from my eyes.

Your smiles are so fake. When you say you love me in the sweetest voice, I feel like throwing up. I rather you come straight out and tell me that you hate me, that I was adopted. That I will never amount to anything, because when I do, I can laugh at your predictions instead of having to put up with more and more of your "I knew that my beautiful daughter will amount to someone who will change the world". I want to change the world, but not in the way that you want me to. I don't want to do medicine anymore. I want to change the world, heart by heart, note by note, because that is my passion. That is what I want to do. That's what makes me and my dreams truly, truly beautiful. Maybe tragically, but truly beautiful.

And speaking of beautiful, your definition of beautiful is definitely different from mine. You only care about outward beauty, how short my shorts are, how much of my ass is exposed when I go running, whether I have a 2 inch diameter waistline or not. Shut. The. Hell. Up. I don't care whether I'm 'fat' or not. As long as I'm happy with what I look like, shut up. I'm beautiful on the inside, and gradually, I know, I will be beautiful on the outside. What you want me to look like is not beautiful. You want me to look hot. Fine. Fine. Fine. I'll look hot. If I come home saying I've been raped it's your fucking fault.

Since when did I name you my keepers? I am a dove, I have no keeper. Yet, I have been captured, stuck in a cage that is overused and undercleaned, undermaintained, not able to even stretch my wings. You want to see me fly, but how can I fly if you don't let me go?

You're trying to pave the way for me, I know. You want me to get into medicine. You want me to follow the footsteps of my father, to become a world reknowned doctor, travelling the world with the press or sitting in an office, rotting away with those overused medical terms. You want me to BE my father.

And it's not 'dad', or 'mom', anymore. It's 'father' and 'mother'. 'Dad' and 'mom' have emotions attached to them. You are just taking on this responsibility because I am an accident. You just had my younger brother after me to make it seem planned. Crafty, but I cracked you. I cracked your secret, and you don't like it. You don't like the fact that I'm telling the truth, that I really just was an accident. You are just my biological parents, nothing more. You don't even care about me. I could drag myself home with a broken leg for all you care, you wouldn't even notice.

Happy Late Post About the Birthday Of a Man who doesn't care about me, probably doesn't know I exist either, but I do care lots about him.

He taught me to never give a fuck about what others think. He taught me to always chase my dreams and fuck the others who are too timid, or too conformed by society to do so. He taught me to always live and love, that there are people out there who understand you. That there are people out there who love you, truly truly love you for who you are. He taught me to respect myself, to never hurt mysel...f in any way possible. He taught me many, many, many things. He is the best teacher ever.

He molded me and painted me, from an unsightly, dull, clay vase to one that is brightly coloured and unique. I was stuck in society's trap -- a black and white world that was just so drab and dull. When I longed for something more than the usual screaming and crying, he gave that to me.

And without him knowing it, he became my hero.

Thank you, Gerard Gee-way. Thank you, and happy birthday. May the years to come be even more successful for you. Stay happy, stay snarky, stay my hero.

 Um, also, this picture kind of reminds me of the I'm Not Okay video, their uniforms, lol! I stumbled upon this...  

http://www.rgs.newcastle.sch.uk/z_core/z_images/content/general/uniform-boys.jpg

Anyway.

<3

I feel like I'm sorely missing something here.

Maybe it's just me; maybe it's the fact that I just finished watching Life On The Murder Scene and when Gerard said "When this band is through" I just couldn't take it and broke down. Maybe it's because I'm becoming too dependent on my music to keep me breathing, keep me alive, living, properly living.

But then again, nothing like this would happen. Right?

I mean, I just watched the Helena video again, and somehow it just has so much more meaning to it than just a video, a snapshot in time and space to commemorate Helena's passing. I don't know -- these are the type of things I would just love to describe to you guys, but then again I stumble for the correct words and it all comes out wrong. That's the way real music is supposed to make you feel. That's the way music is supposed to make you -- it would make you want to cry, and pour out, bleed out your soul onto the keyboard or a piece of manuscript.

So my little emotional rant is half over, but I still feel like I'm lacking. I'm missing something here, something that's supposed to be the whole point -- something intangible.

I'll find it later.

Okay, so I haven't been here in a while, thanks to exams, shit, tests, shit, shit, shit, and more shit. But this post is dedicated to lots of things, and as we go down, why don't we tick them off the list?

Dedicated to: My Chemical Romance; for being the best band ever is, ever was, ever will be. Thanks for so much, and I'm actually just mentally dating you guys even though (damn) you don't know I fucking exist. I'm so weird.

Yep. So I logged in this fine night with the bugs trying to fucking rape my hair (get out of there you fucking pests) and I see a new follower! Hell yeah! Anyway just went straight to the new post page so didn't see who it was, but this post is dedicated to you as well! How nice! Welcome to the world of blood, gore, depression, chemicals, and bands.

(GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE BEFORE I SQUISH EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU)

Oh, bugs.

Hmm. What else. Oh, and Gerard's birthday is in a week's time, hooray! Happy birthday you fucking sass master. I've got prezzies, and I'm gonne post them to your facebook wall ahahahahaha.

I'm so weird. That's the second time I've said this.

This post is also dedicated to the world of weird hairstyling! I wanted to cut my slant a bit shorter (because it was growing like, 8cm long.) so I tried to. But my mother came in and cut BANGS. FUCKING. BANGS. I look so damn weird, and everyone's laughing. Not like it actually made a difference anyway, but I pinned it up, and I'm growing it out so I can cut a proper slant again. NO YOU SHALL NOT. -- Older Bro.

And yes mother, I'm keeping you away from the scissors.
BUT NOT ME :3-- older bro again.
Just for the record, I'm also dedicating this blog post to abandoning the responsibilities of being the child of two of the shitties parents ever. So now, I'm not referring to them as mom and dad but as mother and father. Gives it a nice, sterile, whitewashed feel that they like. It's gonne take a while to get used to it, but it's gonna be worth it, I swear.
IF YOU THINK I'M NOT GONNA HOLD THIS POST OVER YOUR HEAD... --OLDER BRO MUHAHAHAHA.
(AHA! DIDN'T THINK I'D GET YOU DID YA?)

Ahem. Bugs.

Lastly. I think. I'm dedicating this blog post, most of all, to my wonderful sisters and band, the fucking awesome, one and only Revenge Regime. Hell yeah! Also, even though my sisters can't see this, you can practically feel the love and pride ooze from the post.

(Yeah. Feel it. FEEL EET.)

So yeah, I love them like family, even though we're all over the world and shit, they're pretty much all I have left, after what happened... but let's not go into details, we're having way too much fucking fun here.

That's pretty much it, sums up everything that's been happening while I was gone, and yeah, I hadn't had the time or guts to post because parents and exams and shit. So yeah. I'll probably post again next monday though, it's gonna get good. RIGHHHT.--OLDER BRO.

I've got good news and bad news. Which one do you want me to say first?

Well, obviously the good news, but I'll say the bad first anyway.

On Saturday morning, my mom accused me of staring at her through my fringe. That apparently inflamed her hatred for me, causing her to -- goddam, this sounds so scientific. I guess I've just been groomed that way. She took the kitchen scissors and grabbed me by my fringe, pulling me towards her with the intention of chopping it off. I pushed her away. I mean, in a situation like this, someone's first instinct is to push them away, right? I don't know. Finally she let got of me and nearly stabbed me with the scissors, saying, "You're really big now aren't you? You can kill your mother now right?"

I didn't want to kill her, no matter how much I hate her. I threw the scissors away on the floor and said. "No, I'm not going to kill you."

She screamed at me for lying, and that all I wanted to do was to run away. Not true. All I want to do is to be loved for who I am, and be accepted. I didn't want to be changed. I didn't want to be beautiful. I don't want to be chopped down, me, something perfect, in the process of making myself beautiful. I'm beautiful the way I am.
-_- FROM WHAT I SAW.... YOU SORTA DID GLARE AT MUM. AND YOU'RE PRETTY DAMN DEFIANT NOW. GEEZ. JUST LEARN WHEN TO BACK OFF FROM FIGHTS YOU CAN'T WIN.

She screamed at me with harsh words, and she blamed me for pushing her. I don't know. If someone was holding a sharp object and trying to hurt you, you would push them away. You would distance yourself.

I don't know. The moment when her face, it was so etched with anger. It was etched with the pleasure at my hurt. It remains burned in my brain, and it's hurting me every single second. I wish I could wipe it all away. I wish I could. I loosing sleep over this.

But good news though, I'm meeting my sister tomorrow. We're not related by blood, but we love each other so much we call each other sisters. She's helped me through so much, including what was just described. I'm so excited, and I'm really looking forwards to it. I don't know what I'll do though.

Random thoughts in complete randomness of a completely insane and random person.

I kind of noticed that most killjoys on the my chem website are getting ass hurt over a few trolls maybe, as well as not winning some competitions.

You asses, re-LAX. It's a competition, and you gave it your best shot. Stop fucking ranting about how you're supposed to have won. In our eyes, all our answers are always good enough. Our answers will always be the perfect ones. OUR response is always correct and the best, no matter how wrong it is.You are all really childish to have gotten butthurt over not winning that Phant-O-Matic, okay? My Chem organises a motherfucking competition so that their fans will be happy. THEY, I am sure, certainly didn't want their fans to be hurt over not being able to win. They are the ones that selected the entry that would win, so why are you getting hurt over it? Accept the fact that your answer probably wasn't good enough and move on, because other than that, all you can do is sulk about it, bitch about it, fuck a horse about it. Nothing you can do will ever make you the winner of the competition, no matter how many times you dream of it, no matter how many times you want to murder the person over and over and over, no matter how many morbid thoughts you have on killing and mutilating the winner. SHE was chosen to be the winner, and there's absolutely nothing, NOTHING, you can do about it. So STOP being a pain in the ass and move on. Lots of chances await you, so you have to keep trying. Don't just sit there and expect things to happen.

I've also noticed that the killjoys are quarreling over who should win and who shouldn't. WELL EXCUSE ME, you might call it sibling rivalry, but I wish. I really wish that we could be a family again. Killjoys, I'm fighting a motherfucking losing battle here. I can't win if I'm flying solo. We need to be a big family again. We need to love each other like we did before. What happened? People hate us, because there's too much drama here! I agree with them. Some people have been quarrelling over the issue of "new" fans and "old" fans. Apparently, they say, old fans are the best of fans while new fans just want to be fans because My Chemical Romance is now mainstream. Yeah right. YEAH RIGHT. Fans will be fans, tumbleweeds, and as long as they love MCR for their world-changing records and albums, not just like "OHMYGODIWANTTOFUCKGERARDUNDERTHEMISLTETOE" or something along those lines then please, accept them for who they are! We are all outcasts here, and in my opinion the my chem website, the facebook page, even the MCRmy twitter accounts, are where we are accepted. Where we can belong. AND you guys, the supposed loving and caring older ones, are ousting them out! You are ostracizing them! What happened to the one big family?

Also that thing about the old MCR and the new MCR. Killjoys, there will be old material and new material, but MCR will be MCR and that will never ever change. NEVER. The message they've been sending 7 years ago is the same that they're sending now: "Be yourself, never be a second-rate copy of someone else because you are unique and no one can ever replace you." They are sending the same message, except through different sounds: Bullets and Revenge were very dark and what fits the stereotype of emo, Black Parade was spunky and theatrical, and Danger Days is futuristic and loving. Can't you see that? Patients have left the MCRmy because "oh, the new album is too happy." What kind of fucking reason is that? MCR has and always will be my hero, because they send the same message with every song they produce; be it Our Lady of Sorrows or Vampires Will Never Hurt You or Sing or Party Poison. They are the same message in a different form! It's like eating chocolate ice cream and eating chocolate ice cream CAKE.

Finally, a meaningful post where I don't rant negative things!

So since I'm really bored, I've decided to come up with a list of what is my top ten favourite lyrics and why. Everybody wants to know the why. Yes, yes you do.

Starting with 10! This is from the song My Immortal by Evanescence. "There's just too much that time cannot erase." These lyrics have helped me through rough patches in my early fandom, when I started to "go bad", as my mom would say. There's a lot of depth in these lyrics, because the emotional scars inflicted on me in my early fandom still remain. Only death, I fear, can take away these scars.

9! This is from Zero Percent by MCR. "Oh, my magazine is full of ugly things!" These pretty much defeated the purpose of magazine publishers publishing stereotypes in their material. Models in magazines are supposedly "beautiful", anorexic bitches. Since when did a skin-and-bone model become prettier and hotter than someone like Marilyn Monroe!? This really took the pressure off me to look REALLY skinny and so-called pretty.

8! From Sing, MCR. "Sing it for the deaf, sing it for the blind." This really evokes pity for the handicapped people, how they're not able to do things that most of us can do, for example, see where they're going. We should never ever look down on these people because you have absolutely no idea what they've gone through.

7! From NaNaNa, MCR. "Everybody wants to change the world, everybody wants to change the world but no one, no one wants to die" Of course it's true that no one wants to die! Even in your darkest of moments, there's always a glimmer of hope, giving what I call "Pandora's principle".

6! From The Kids From Yesterday, MCR. "You only hear the music when your heart begins to break." My heart, is broken. Nuff said.

5! From Our Lady of Sorrows, MCR. "Oh how wrong we were to think that immortality meant never dying." Does it, my blog readers? Does it? Think about it.

4! From Summertime, MCR. "And carry all this broken bone, through the six years down in crowded rooms, and highways I called home." When we meet that one person that we truly love, and who truly loves us, they would help us, support us, even though we're so broken on the inside. Even though we may have run away, even though we lost everything we once had.

3! From Sing again. "Generation nothing. nothing but a dead scene, product of a white dream." Isn't everything around us so monochrome now? It's so black and white it nearly hurts. Most of us have lost our colours, our life, our vibrancy. We ARE, and becoming quickly, generation nothing, a product of a white dream.

2! From 21 guns, Green Day. "Does the pain weigh out the pride, and you look for a place to hide." We all have our egoes, and no matter how grand and furious they are, they are egoes after all, and will hurt our hearts once in a while.

Finally, 1! What, no drumroll? Whatever. From Welcome To The Black Parade, MCR. "And though you're dead and gone believe me, your memory will carry on." Those are the sweetest words I have ever heard a son say to his father.