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About AlyssaLane

  • Birthday 03/01/2000

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    El Paso, Texas
  • Interests
    Mathematics, history, orchestra, and writing.

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  1. It's been a really long time since I've visited this website. I honestly don't think I can even say I fully recognize the person I was when I wrote my past blog entries. What's funny to me is back then the phrase "it gets better" was something I laughed at because I heard it constantly from people I didn't think understood what I was going through. I realize now, though, that things genuinely do get better. I still obviously have really bad days where I struggle, I've honestly been in a bad place for the past few months, but things are worlds away from the misery I was going through in high school. I'm so grateful to no longer have to be going through the constant anxiety and stress I was on a daily basis back then. I don't know if it was the environment I was constantly forced to be in; a huge crowd every day, full of potentially dangerous strangers and lost of adults I didn't necessarily deem trustworthy that were supposed to be my "protectors" were in charge of my care every day or if my anxiety has genuinely improved, but either way I feel a million times different now than I did then. One major difference, and definitely not something I would have anticipated happening back then, is I stopped attending college. I plan on going back soon, either for a minimester this December or just the spring semester of 2021, but I haven't gone to a class since my second semester in the spring semester of 2019. Part of me is genuinely terrified to go back because I feel like school is just part of what made me so miserable. Outside of the constant triggers, the pressure to do your very best all the time, and that never being good enough for seemingly anyone, is just not a routine I want to get back into. I went to school for 13 years of my life and I feel like I got nothing out of it. I don't feel like I even learned anything transformative during my time in college, either. I had maybe on interesting class that challenge my way of thinking, but it was a history class that didn't even go towards my degree. My college professors were just rehashing the same information I had been taught in high school, in the same way my high school teachers had recycled information from middle school. Additionally, I am putting myself thousands of dollars in debt just to either learn things I already know or things I simply have no interest in learning. I thought college was supposed to be when I was finally allowed to take classes that actually pertained to subjects I was interested in? I thought this was supposed to be the time in my life when I learned new forms of math I was always teased about in high school calculus class, but instead I was still taking quizzes on the Quadratic Formula because "we have to go over the basics." (Look, I don't want to sound like an arrogant asshole here, but I am not paying thousands of dollars for "the basics" I came here to learn math that would further my interest in the subject and I feel like I'm being scammed. I can find more intriguing content on mathematics on YouTube than I could in my college classrooms and that feels like and insult to the debt I'm putting myself in.) So, I'm not necessarily excited to go back to school, to say the least. If I could have a conversation with my past self from two years ago and I told them I was currently a college drop out who's unemployed (due to a pandemic, but still unemployed, lol) they'd probably start a fist fight with me and win. I feel like I desperately need to get myself back together. Although I'm happier, I'm technically a total fucking loser. All I do is smoke weed and play Animal Crossing. I need a fucking life. I need to actually do things with myself. Hiding myself from the world to cope with my anxiety isn't actually coping with my anxiety, it's just preventing me from actually having to deal with it at all. I can't develop any healthy coping mechanisms if I'm not even giving myself the chance to get out there and experience the world, including all potential triggers. I also need a plan for my life. I'm almost 21 years old and I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to do. Because I don't necessarily HAVE to go to college to be happy or successful, but I never really put any thought into any other avenue. To be fair, I was sure I was going to kill myself after my high school graduation until about a week after it happened and I realized: "Oh shit I'm still here I have to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do now or get the hell out of here" and unfortunately, I chose the former option. I tried college and I'm not sure if I'm even ready to admit that it didn't work out yet. Nothing about college went the way I anticipated. I'm not sure what to do or where to go from here. I didn't plan for being alive this long, period, but I was sure that if I was I would at least go to college and get a decent career. How am I 20 year old adult stuck in the same position I was when I was 16? Confused as shit, no plan, with no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing with my life.
  2. AlyssaLane


    I did a bad thing. I was scrolling through Facebook the other day and just casually looking at memes, my favorite pass time. But Facebook always has your suggested friends that interrupts the memes every few post. And in those suggested friends, I saw my rapist. I stared at his photo for a moment just kind of disgusted. He looked so happy and care free. I know I shouldn't have done it but... I clicked the profile. I didn't realize how active he had been the past few months. I thought he was still in jail or on the other side of town selling crack. He has another fake name. Looking at his profile made me sick. We had so many mutual friends including: my brother, my friend Moose, my co-worker, and several old friends from high school. I couldn't believe that even after my brother found out what he did to me, he's still his friend on Facebook. He also has a very pretty girlfriend and I'm honestly scared for her. I'm afraid he could hurt her like he hurt me. What really pissed me off, though, were the dozens of posts of people saying to let him out of jail on his page and his countless birthday wishes. He posted tons of photos of him with all the money he makes. In every selfie he takes, he's smiling. I hate that he's so happy, considering he's made me so miserable. The worst post was this post he made about all the "demons" he had been fighting lately. Quote: "And ive been fighting demons latley swear yall dont know what i be going thru..." First of all, he's clearly not the most educated person out there. Second, for some reason the use of the word "demon" really irritated me. Because, yes I suppose in a sense we all have demons. But the only thing that shit head has to go through is getting through the cops so he can sell more drugs. Part of me wonder if maybe his "demon" would be guilt from what he did to me, but I doubt that's what it was. I doubt he cares. I guess I wanted it to affect him in the same way it affected me. I wanted something from the whole thing to tear him up inside, too. But I just blocked him. I decided it wasn't worth looking at and putting myself through that. I'm fine just fine continuing to live my life without him in it.
  3. It's been a long time and a lot of things have changed. I wish that I could say that everything was okay and normal, but in all honesty, my first semester in college was not at all what I had expected. I was expecting this new chapter in life where I would be more happy and that everything would finally be okay. Of course, however, that was not the case at all. I had a very lonely, isolated, shitty time in pretty much every aspect of college. I don't really have very many friends anymore. The thing about college is that all of your old friends can start to ignore you on weekdays just like they used to on the weekends, which gets painful and obnoxious really quickly. I already have depression as it is, and I always feel even shittier when I don't have people in my life who actually want me around. Classes were painfully boring and bland. Nothing I was doing in any of classes were really interesting of even educational. I wasn't expecting some kind of crazy mind blowing education or anything of that sort, but I didn't expect to get more of an education from helping my brother cheat on his homework than I did from actual classes. My girlfriend and I broke up, and she managed to get a new girlfriend within less than a week of us breaking up. Which made me feel like the worst human being on the planet. I feel awful. At the end of the semester, all I can help is feel hopeless and lifeless. I'm even more depressed than I used to be. I'm more isolated. More lonely. This isn't what I anticipated at all. I thought life was supposed to start changing for me and that everything was supposed to start to get better. However, it's apparent now, that I was wrong. But there's always this break I have from school for things to improve. And there's the next semester, and the 3 years that follow after that for things to get better. The possibilities are endless, and although the chances of me being happy anytime soon don't necessarily look great, I'm still hopeful. You never know what the future may hold and although my first major leap towards a happier life was ultimately a failure, that doesn't mean that I can't try and do it again. I just really wished everything had worked out the first time like it was supposed to. Everyone told me everything was going to change. I was so convinced that happiness was right around the corner and that everything was about to change. I made actual changes to try and make it happen, too. And it didn't. I don't really know exactly what I'm doing wrong. But I guess I have the rest of my shitty life to figure it out. The truth is, I'm not sure how to be truly happy. I don't know how to break out of my self destructive habits. I don't know how to ask for help with things. For weeks, I've been planning in my head how I was going to reach out to a good friend of mine. And, naturally, I have yet to do that. I can't to do it. I don't know how. Most of my life I chose to repress all the emotions I felt rather than expressing things like a normal human being. And I tried my best to try and be more optimistic, which in and of itself hasn't been a failure so far, however, that just isn't enough. Thinking more positively isn't the way to getting yourself out of your depression. You have to get out of the house and interact with people. I have to step out of my comfort zone more no matter how much I'd prefer to stay in sweat pants, on my couch, not doing my homework, and watching The Office for several hours straight.
  4. AlyssaLane


    Ms. Tipton is my old APUSH teacher. And has somehow managed to become one of my best friends. Now, I know that sounds bizarre and probably kind of silly, but it's true. From the start, she always knew when something was wrong with me. In February of 2017, my ex girlfriend of a year and half, had cheated on me and broken up with me. And this woman, who barely knew me at the time, was the only one who helped me. Naturally, I wasn't being myself. No one else noticed or if they did, they didn't say anything. But when she saw me after school that day, she was the only one who asked me what was wrong. And when I explained it all to her, nearly crying in the process, she gave me the best advice and encouragement I had honestly ever received. Later that year, when I had other issues, she provided the same level of support, every time. Anyone who has met her can genuinely say she is also the kindest and sweetest person on Earth and her constant optimistic attitude has been, at times, the only thing that keeps me smiling. Throughout my senior year, I began to help her with whatever she wanted. She took on A LOT of projects at the school, and always seemed so stressed about all of them. I wanted to help the best I could, and I still do, because I don't want to see her unhappy. I send her a meme everyday now, just in case she's had a rough day. Because everyone, especially her, deserves to smile at least once everyday. She once told me I had a "kind nature" and she felt like she was taking advantage of me by asking me to help her out so much. But I never felt extorted or anything like that. I was just being myself. I like making other people happy. I do a lot of silly things to make other people smile. (Mr. Varela, my PreCal teacher, always seemed upset, too, so I left him math puns on sticky notes. I just like making other people smile. He saved all of them, and apparently showed them to other teachers. That actually brings tears to my eyes.) On Halloween this past year, my family found out about what happened to me. Tipton didn't exactly know what had happened (yet) but was incredibly supportive. At the time, I felt like my entire world was unraveling in front of me, which sounds dramatic, but them knowing was, and still kind of is, one of my biggest fears. That night, I was more determined than ever to just end it. I didn't want to face them. But she forced me to promise her I would be at school the next day, and I could never break a promise to her. I don't know if she knows, but she's really the person that kept me alive that night. She always respected my boundaries more than anyone else. She's always been there for me more than anyone else, even when I have the stupidest of issues. She often tells me I just "wormed my way into her heart" and I'm happy to have done so. I don't understand how it happened, fully. But I'm glad it did. It was her birthday a few days ago and with me, it's always go big or go home with gifts. I'm broke as fuck, so I can't get extravagant gifts or anything like that. But I can give gifts that are thoughtful that will make a person cry. She told me a story once, that I won't repeat because it's personal, but I gave her gift related to it. And it made her cry. Which was my goal, honestly. Sounds mean, I know, but it wasn't necessarily malicious. My mother was an awful mother. She abandoned our family for drugs and never looked back. She goes to jail every few months and is just a constant heart breaking let down. When I was younger, I clung to my mother like we were attached at the damn hip. My father was loud and always at work, he scared me. I just wanted to be with my mother. But she left me, and I didn't understand. As a child, I created a version of my mother in my head of what she would be if she were normal and still an actual mother. I've never told Tipton this, but she's exactly that person. She's the exact person I wish my mother had been. She's kind, loving, funny, supportive, understanding...just everything I wish I had in a mother. I've always believed that we form our own families throughout our lives, through the people we meet and keep in our lives. And I consider her family-- which might insult my actual family but I don't give a fuck. I've always had a very hard time properly expressing my emotions, but I just hope she understand how much I care about her.
  5. AlyssaLane


    I've only been moved out for a few days now, but I feel like I'm actually kind of happy for the first time in a while. Ever since I moved in, I haven't woken up feeling like shit or being unhappy. I really hope this is a feeling that sticks, because I really like it. I have motivation for things now, and although I have my shit moments throughout the day, each day is actually kind of a good day. That is not something I ever could have said before. I think being in that house was a big cause of my depression. I hated it there. I never felt loved or wanted. But now that I've moved out so far my family has been supportive and helpful. I asked my dad to just buy me some pizza rolls, and he bought me a whole bunch of groceries. One thing that still gets me down, though, is my lack of friends. I have a very hard time initiating and maintaining friendships. I genuinely hate myself, so I guess I have a hard time imagining that anyone would actually like me. But these are all things I'm working on. A very good friend of mine, (who is actually my old teacher, she somehow became the most supportive, loving person in my life. It's a long story, one that I'll probably tell another time), has been helping me have a more positive mental attitude. And it's actually working. I'm still upset I didn't get to the college I wanted, even though I got accepted, but on the bright side, I'm not alone here. I have a support system that actually works for me. I got a job, even though I have to work a block from THAT location, and I could always get in contact with old friends, if I really tried. For the first time in my life, I feel like things are going to be okay for me. And I can always transfer to my dream school next semester. It gives me motivation to keep my shit together. Most of my life, I haven't really wanted to be alive. I've always had suicidal thoughts and tendencies. I always felt like a walking corpse. I didn't have the courage to actually kill myself, except the 3 times I tried and failed, so it was like I was being forced to be alive. I was living each day depressed because I didn't want to be living it at all. But, today I actually want to be alive. And that's something I haven't been able to say in years. Maybe I'm jumping the shark and I'll actually be really depressed within a week, but it feels good to be happy for now.
  6. AlyssaLane


    I finally moved out of the house I've called home for the past 12 years of my life. For some reason, I feel like this is going to be the start of something great. I have spent so many years in that house just being depressed and alone. But I'm finally out and in my own living space. I feel like I'm finally free, though I do really miss my dog. I have a lot of roommates. We all have our own rooms, except me and one other girl. I guess I just have shitty luck. I've come to learn that almost everything that happens in my life has some kind of downside to it. But that's okay. I can get through it. I've experienced FAR worse. I'm a little disappointed I can't put up my cool tie dye curtains and a lot of my other little decorations....but I feel like in no time at all this will begin to feel more like home and less like a hotel room. Maybe since I'll have roommates I'll finally have friends. That's not something I've ever really had before.
  7. I finally got a job. I had been applying pretty much everywhere, everyday, since June. Applying for jobs basically became my job, only it only lead to constant disappointment and I didn't get paid. I even got a job at one my favorite fast food places. So now I get half priced food of pretty much my favorite food. This all sounds great, in theory, but there's a huge problem with my job that I'm not sure I'm going to be able to handle. I applied to every location, except one, for a very specific reason. I interviewed at the location closest to my house and actually a few others that were a bit farther away. At the end of last week, my boss tells me he hires for 2 locations. The one I work at, and one about 10 minutes away. He wanted me to transfer locations. He promised me more hours and 8 dollars an hour instead of 7.75. At first, it all sounded like a pretty sweet deal. However, I apparently have the world's shittiest luck. Because every good thing that happens to me has to also be coated in it's own layer of shit. My new work location is a block away from where I was raped. It's literally right there. And the guy who did it, still lives in that house, with his mother and my half sister. The one location I specifically don't apply to work at, is the one location I have to work at. I start there today. My boss texted me to go there 2 hours ago and I've pretty much been pretending I didn't see it. I don't want to go. I just know that working there is going to destroy my mental health. I'm going to be a wreck. I'm terrified. I was actually feeling better recently. I've been working on being a more positive person and all that shit. I've been talking about my issues more. I finally got the chance to go to therapy (haven't gone yet...but I'm going to). I got all my paperwork cleared up for college. Life should have been looking up for me, for once. Hopefully I'll be okay. I think maybe once I work there for a bit and realize I'm not really in danger, I'll be okay. But just being near that place is enough to drive me insane. I can't pass the place on the highway without feeling like I'm going to be sick. I just feel stupid. It's just a location. Just another house. Why does it bother me so much?
  8. A few months ago, I was awarded an alumni scholarship from my high school. Every year they post the winners with their picture and biography. In my biography, I wrote about what happened to me. I left in how I was assaulted when I was 11 and it's going to be posted on a public website where a lot of people I know are likely going to see it. Normally, the idea of this would bring me to pain and tears and I would be having an anxiety attack at the very idea of doing such a thing. But for the first time in my life I'm actually okay with something like this. I think that it's important for my story to be told. People need to know the good and the bad. I guess I have hopes someone will see that I'm actually doing okay and take some kind of inspiration from it. Or maybe I just hope that more people will understand me just a little bit more. Regardless, I'm happy I did it. I need people to understand that I'm so much more than just some other nerdy kid that won a scholarship through nothing more than hard work. There was a lot standing in my way. A lot that I had to overcome. Although I'm sure that I'm soon going to regret this decision. I'm sure this time tomorrow I'll be beating myself up for even thinking about it and wishing I could take it all back. But I guess there's no going back now.
  9. AlyssaLane


    I can't sleep. I can never sleep. All summer I haven't been able to sleep. This could be either due to a certain "anniversary" or because my sister is always around while I'm trying to sleep. I can't sleep with someone awake around me. I don't know why. I also can't sleep without backround noise. And I have to be hugging something. A blanket, a pillow. Doesn't matter. I always need a fan. Even in the winter I turn it on so it's really cold. On nights where I'm hot I have nightmares again. Sometimes they happen even when I'm comfortable. I always get anxious at night. It usually takes weed or sleeping pills to knock me out. The other day I stayed up till 8 AM and slept through the whole day till 3 PM. I feel like I miss out on so much but without school I don't have much to keep my sleeping patterns in check. I don't know what I'm writing about this. Probably because I'm tired and high. I don't know. This is really stupid.
  10. AlyssaLane


    I'm at the top of a hill, taking a break. Breathless. Exhausted. I've only been riding a few days. And it has become both the best and worst part of my life. The hill is long and steep and, and the intersecting road that lies at the end is incredibly busy. Cars whirling by, horns blaring at one another, drivers shouting harsh words, and children sitting clueless in the back seats. All of these things slowly become a complete blur. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I push the bike forward and lift my feet from the peddles. I'm on auto pilot. The bike starts plowing forward. The chain clicks as I shift gears, lowering the resistance. I lift my hands off the handle bars; but they still hover just above. I can feel the wind flowing through my hair and cooling my burning face. I'm smiling the most genuine smile to grace my face in years as if joy itself were a demon and for the first time decided to possess my pathetic body. I can hear the traffic getting closer. I can feel the hill coming to an end. I'm don't want to slow down. I want to slam into traffic. I want cars to smother me. I want the damage to be so bad my funeral has to be a closed casket. And I want my bike to only be recognize by a few small, hardly distinguishable pieces-- noticed only by a few remaining pieces of the purple glimmer from the frame and black, glossy metal that captures the handle bars. For the first time in almost 7 years, nothing is troubling me. I don't feel stressed or exhausted. I don't feel anxious and alone. I feel free. I feel at peace. It made me realize just how badly I want this all to end-- even if it is in the "worst" way possible. Even if I have to leave everyone in the dust. I want it. I want it more than anything else. I've always known that I wanted this to end. I've always known I didn't want to have to live with this for 70 years. I didn't want to live a "full" life. Because that entailed living with this for an entire lifetime. The faster the bike gets the better I feel. More excited. More free. I felt like I was taking my first breaths after being suffocated for years. Or like I was walking free for the first time after years of being anchored by heavy chains. It felt incredible. Suddenly, my hands slam down onto the handle bars and desperately grab at the brakes. The tires squeal against the pavement and the back tire jumps up a bit. I open my eyes-- only inches away from the fast moving traffic. Now, all of the horns and angry voices are directed towards me and clueless, confused child's eyes land directly on me. I looks down, trying to avoid the harsh gazes of those I've inconvenienced. I'm ashamed. I slowly put my feet back to the peddles, and grudgingly make my way home. I should have done it. I should have completely let go and let the beautiful moment of liberty be my last. I don't exactly know what came over me. But I do know that I will ride again tomorrow.
  11. AlyssaLane


    Why am I so fucking alone? I exist like I'm on an island. In the middle of nowhere. An island that is uncharted and unexplored. Full of disgusting, deadly, and dangerous animals are creatures that the human mind can barely comprehend. Parasites that could kill you in an instant. Beasts that could swallow you whole. And I'm tasked with the sole task of survival. Everyday, I see planes soar by overhead. I hear boats slowly cost by. And none of the people aboard even bother to give me a second glance. When I was a child, I used to imagine myself being entirely alone. I would imagine I was on a stage in a completely empty, dark room. I could do anything I wanted. I could take a nap without the fear of anyone touching me or scream out all of my pain without fear of being heard. I wanted, so badly, for that to be my reality. That's all I wanted. I didn't have very many friends, so I could spend hours, alone, living in the fantasy. Throughout my whole life, I got very good at pretending to be somewhere else. I could sit around in my room, and despite the fact my parents were screaming at one another so loudly I thought their heads would explode, or despite my body being thrashed around like some kind of sex toy, I could go somewhere else. I practiced it every time my parents argued. Or every time a bully at school decided today was my day to shine. I would go there. To that room. But I don't want to be there anymore. I don't want to be alone anymore. I need people. I need someone. Just one person is all it would take. One friend. That would survive on the island with me. Be my teammate in fighting any battle or dangerous, disgusting creature that came our way. And we would be happy to help one another. If they were starving, I would spare my food. And if I were dying they would step in to save me in battle. It feels like no matter how close I get I'll never make it. No matter how far I extend outward I'll never touch it. I'll never get to feel what it's like to have someone there for me. I'll never understand what it's like to have someone there with me. I exist alone. On an island or in a dark room. Alone, no matter where I go. I could be in a huge crowd of people and I would still be completely and utterly fucking alone. Why am I so alone? -Lane.
  12. People, for some reason, think I'm a strong person. 



    I'm not. I'm really not. I'm just a mess and I can't fix it. 

    1. Kmkz


      Even though you might feel like you're not, you are strong. Living each day in face of obstacles and trying to overcome and improve shows strength. Healing may take some time, take small steps, be kind and gentle with yourself. 

  13. AlyssaLane


    Everything I do is pointless. I can hear sirens screaming from the streets outside. Whirling past my house-back and forth. All night. Every night. Most nights I can't help but wish they were for me. Not because anything awful was done to me-- God knows I don't want that again. But because I finally did something awful to myself. That for once I did something that wasn't. I could do a million things. And I would never change. I could be the polar opposite of what I am now and I would still hate myself. I just can't help it. And to work to fix it just feels irrelevant. Inconsequential. My existence, my life, and everything I do within it is nothing more than some sick joke. My father found out this past year that I was raped. And I was afraid of having to talk about it but relieved because I thought that I would finally get help or justice or something out of this. Nothing happened. He didn't do anything. Didn't even talk to me about it. I told teachers. I reached out. They didn't do anything. They were there for me, unlike my family, which was nice. But still didn't get me any more help. They tried but got distracted with other, more important, tasks and stopped. My friend found out. My best friend. He doesn't even talk to me anymore. He hates me. He avoids me because I'm such a fucking burden on his life. All he did was give me a hug and try to convert me to his religion. Imagine that-- you find out your friend was used as a fleshlight at age 11 and all you do is push your religion on them. None of it helped. It was all just pointless. I don't want to do this anymore. I can't keep pushing for things to get better only to get pushed back even farther again. Only for things to get worse. What's wrong with me? Why can't things get better? People tell you all the time that time heals all wounds. They tell you things will get better. But this summer it will be 7 years and nothing has changed. So what's the fucking point? -Lane.
  14. AlyssaLane


    I've always imagined what my life would be like if I were never raped. I made a list, once. I wrote down every single thing I wish I was, that I knew be if that never happened. And then I wrote down everything I was because of it. It was a long list. I felt disgusted with myself and who I have become. I thought of the people in my life who are happy and optimistic. I thought about how envious I was of their ability to see the good in people and the good in life. I looked in the mirror and just felt disgusted with myself. I was disgusted with who I had become. I'm so pessimistic and negative. Unhappy and spiteful. Sometimes I'm foolish enough to believe that happiness is within my reach. I'm silly enough to think that someday I'll be balanced and normal. That I'll sleep at night and live without anxiety. I'll wake up without being depressed. I'll be normal. But anxiety is as much a part of my life as eating. Depression is as natural to me as breathing. I wake up everyday wishing I had died in my sleep. I go to bed every night regretting that I had managed to live through the day. Life isn't something enjoyable. It's a chore. I get up everyday and I have to force myself out of bed. Force myself out of the house. Drag myself through school. Pull myself to the end of the day. And then I repeat. But if I had never been raped I wouldn't be this way. I just know it. I know that I would be happy to get up. I would be excited to live everyday. I would go through everyday with a sense of bewilderment and excitement. Rather than dreading tomorrow I would be optimistic and look to the future. I would believe in myself instead of living with this sense of shame. Instead of feeling disgusted with myself. Instead of hating what I do. Instead of constantly expecting failure. Instead of hiding in a crowd. I would stand out. I would love myself. I would anticipate success. I wouldn't be so un fucking happy. But that's just an unachievable fantasy. I'm going to live the rest of my life this way. And that's just the way that it is. -Lane.
  15. AlyssaLane


    I feel like I'm in the middle of the ocean. The cold, bitter ocean. Alone. I see ships pass by and planes fly over and I call out. But no one hears me. No one stops to help me. I'm trying--really hard to stay afloat. I'm viciously kicking in the water. I'm flailing, desperately just trying to survive. I'm going under. Sinking below the surface deeper into the waters below. It's dark and it's freezing and I'm alone. I'm gasping for air and my lungs are filling with water. I'm exhausted. I can't swim anymore. My legs are weak and my muscles are sore. Every movement feels like my limbs are burning from the inside out. I manage to get a few breaths of air but continue to slowly fail again and again. I sink deeper after every breath. After every moment of air I fall deeper yet again. No matter what I do; this only gets worse. The land lies on the horizon. Too far out of reach. Land is for those who managed to seek rescue or for those who never had to drown at all. Even if I swam for the rest of my life-- I know I would never make it there. Land is not what I'm meant for. I'm meant to drown. Alone. I am going to go under, out here, alone. The ocean will consume me and I will become just another sunken ship. Just another body that will never be found. A death never solved. Answers will be derived from what I left behind but no one will fully know. No one will know that I just couldn't swim anymore. That I was just too tired. My body hurt too much. And the pain only grew as the days when on. Waves constantly knocked me away from the land. Farther and farther out of my reach despite my constant strides towards it. Eventually, I just gave up. I couldn't do it anymore. I was never too good of a swimmer. And I never will be. -Lane.
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