Who hath wounds without cause?

People have been asking me why I’m depressed. I could list out all of the reason, but that would take awhile…I will try anyway. 

When I was 6 years-old I was molested repeatedly by my “best friend”. His name was Jake (I think). He made me touch and put my mouth on his privates for months. One day I told a friend nonchalantly, then she told her mom who told my told my mom. Then the next thing I know we are in a different neighborhood where I have no friends.

During my freshmen year of high school, I had my first kiss with a boy named Sam (we will call him Sam). My friend Andie (we will call her Andie) was secretly in love with Sam so she turned all of our friends against me. I tried to remain under the radar because of all of this drama during my freshmen and sophomore years of high school.  

On a cruise when I was 16, I lost my virginity to a guy in the ship. I cried. He was older. He also had a girlfriend. I didn’t know this encounter would change everything.

By the time I came back to the States, something had shut down inside me. I didn’t care who was inside me.

During my junior year, my friend Brent (fake name) killed himself by hanging himself in his closet. The summer before my senior year, my friend Kevin (fake name) killed himself also by hanging himself. I was in love with him. He was beautiful. I wish he could’ve known how much I cared about him before he did that to himself. 

By then I was officially off the rails. I wanted nothing to do with “old-fashioned courtship”. I just wanted to feel affection from men. Which I got through sex. Lots and lots of sex. 

Now that I am back home and out of school, I can say that I have had at least over 20 sex partners. I feel dirty. I feel disgusting. I want nothing but to slit my wrists and receive my dues as the true slut I am. 

That is all I have to say. I’m sorry.


Medicated Perfection. 


For I am lonely and afflicted.

I have withdraw from my university for the rest of the semester. 

I am now living with my parents. 

I try to sleep in a twin-sized bed every night, but I fail. 

My medicines are being adjusted weekly to keep me stable. 

I want to die on a daily basis. 

Nothing is happening. 

Nothing will happen. 

I’m just done


Medicated Perfection  

If we confess our sins…





YES, FOUR breakdowns today.

Everything is becoming too much to handle.

I am an assistant stage manager for a show at my university. We open tomorrow night so for the past week we have had rehearsal from 6pm-11pm every night. The show AND homework AND depression AND attempting to have a social life is going to be the death of me.

My breakdowns started when I realized I am paying over $30,000 a semester to be physically, mentally, and emotionally drained for a grade. For real.

1st breakdown was in class.

2nd breakdown was on my drive home from campus.

3rd breakdown was in my room.

4th breakdown was in my room on the phone with my mom.

My mom mentioned that it would be okay if I needed to come home. When I think about taking the rest of the semester off, I have many mixed feelings.

Part of me wants to have some time at home to relax and rejuvenate. To get in a better place.
Part of me does NOT want to leave because I’m afraid if I leave, I will never go back.

If I never go back, what will I do with my life?
I don’t want to be one of those drop-outs that lives with her parents and works at Chick-Fil-A until she’s 30.

I CAN’T be like that.

I just can’t.


Medicated Perfection.