The Side of Me I Hope You'll Never See

It is hard to tell people a meaningful event from my adulthood without forming a small lie because I hardly do anything exciting. Honestly, I am content with just reading a book, catching up with an old friend, driving to a music store and looking at old records or just escaping the town. But, this is not what this post is about. It took so much courage to write this, since I have only told a handful of people, but here I am, ready to tell my story. 

My Sophomore year (which was late 2010-early 2011 I believe), I wanted to kill myself.

And as a mere glance at that, you will probably assume, ''Oh, that is just for attention!'' (since a lot of people do this as an attention-seeking thing when things go negatively. At least, from my experience). This was not for attention, this was deep down pain and I just could not take it anymore. I cannot specifically say as to why it got this far. I just felt so dead every day when I woke up and emotionally/physically drained and did not want to do anything except sleep (even though that sounds more like depression than anything). I did not tell anyone how I felt on the inside because I knew no one would understand. I knew people would just tell me to brush it off and that I was too young to feel the way I felt. But, sure enough, I felt so much pain inside of me, and I did not know what to do about it. I tried doing things that made me happy, but it never worked. Every night, I put in my headphones, loud enough for me to drown everything out, but low enough for me to hear myself, and I just let everything out. This happened on a consecutive basis, and I cannot even recall how many times I did this. I just needed some kind of escape from everything, and it helped. Sort of.

I still felt bad. ''Bad'' is an understatement, actually. Feeling this way went on for a while, but I never attempted. To be honest, I was too afraid. Funny how I wanted to die so bad but I could not even end it because I was too afraid (I mean, obviously, I an still here, right?). I eventually got over feeling so bad about myself and I slowly emerged from feeling so crappy about myself that I finally became happy. I was happy with who I am, what I was doing in life, and I was happy with everything that was falling into place. I was just so afraid of falling back into the hole I climbed out of to be brought back in and not be able to escape from it a second time. 

To this day, I no longer think about wanting to end my life. As a matter of fact, it scares me that I that I even thought about doing it. I'm really happy with the person I have become and I have a lot in store for the future and I couldn't be happier to achieve the dreams I have set. I have a great support system and the people I do know tell me every day how lucky they are to have me here. I know this has nothing to do with this post, but please.  If any of my classmates read this and know people that feel so empty and have thoughts like this, then please either help them the best of your ability, or get someone in that was once in their position to get them out of it. Suicide is never the answer, and it is nothing you, or anyone else, should ever think of. 

Aesthetic Beauty

The purpose of the paper that I am writing is to express the aesthetic beauty of the sky that most people do not appreciate. Most people go on their days without looking or acknowledging the night sky, therefore they do not appreciate sky, nor do they value what is above them giving them precious beauty only found at night. My paper will also be focused around how much light pollution there is in the United States, or even the world for that matter, and how it has drastically changed and how people cannot appreciate the night sky to its full extent.

The points/claims I will (or possibly am going to claim) will be based around that people are not aware of such beauty that they can find the night sky. People are so close-minded to things that they do not realize what they can find up at the sky (depending on where they live). This is not going to be in my paper due to the fact that I cannot force people to travel and appreciate the value of the night sky where it is completely dark, but people should take the time to travel outside of their comfort zone to a place that there is no light present except the night sky, and more than likely, they will be in awe of what they see. I will also be making points/claims based around how there is so much light pollution. Yes, it can be a good resource to have in a dark area, and the light is known to protect us from dangers, but with so much light, no one can see the night sky, and really take notice of what it can hold.

You can find such emotion through looking at the night sky that it just relaxes you and it makes you feel safe. The sky is such a vast, open area that can show so many different wonders. People think that they are the center of the earth and there is nothing beyond the earth, but there really is. There's so much in store for people to look at and think about when they see the beauty in the night sky. It bothers me to such a horrid extent how people think that there is only the earth that is around them. The night sky means nothing to some people. ''Oh, it's just the night sky. No big deal.'' To some, it is, especially if they need an escape. 

At this point for my paper, the sources and articles I have found have been based around the topic that is mostly about light pollution, how it is affecting the night sky, and how people favor the night sky. Light pollution is a big deal when it comes to people actually wanting to view the night sky and find beauty in it (like myself, but due to the area and having travel some distance, it is a nuisance, but definitely worth it), but most people do not have the time to go out and spend a few nights underneath the stars and take a break from reality. 

Starstruck

I have always admired the night sky ever since I was a little girl. In my old house, I had a backyard that had a tile patio that reflected the moon off the floor when the moon was right in the center of my backyard. Every night, I would sit outside and look up at the moon until I eventually fell asleep on the tile. I would also stay outside with my best friend past nine, ten, even eleven o'clock walking around the neighborhood where light posts weren't around and just rested ourselves on the grass. I did this on a consecutive basis until I moved to an area that didn't have the access to the stars.

In early January of this year, I had walked a trail with one of my friends late at night. It was cold, the wind was still, and the night was clear. No clouds, just the stars and a blanket of black that was held together by an illuminating ball of white. There were hundreds of trees around us, all taller than we could comprehend, and they led us down the trail. There were no light posts, lamps, or anything that gave off light to make the stars run and hide. The sky was our source of light, and it was incredibly bright. I could put my hand in front of my face and pick out every detail due to how bright the moon, and stars were.

Within ten minutes into the walk, I decided to look up. The trail was intended to just release some built up stress, but I admired the trees and all of my surroundings, but not the stars. I looked up and was in awe. There were so many stars, more than I have every seen before (I haven't been outside of town to really admire the stars, even though I tend to look up occasionally when there aren't any lights. I just could never do it for a long period of time). It made me feel so...small. You feel like you're so big against insects or humans that are smaller than you and you feel so superior to others for being so tall. But, the stars are so far away. And the sky is this vast, black canvas that engulfs you in everything. You reach your hand out and joke about almost being able to touch the moon, but you see that it's so far away and that it dominates you. I had this feeling of being so small to how I used to see myself, but I also felt powerful (it's difficult to explain. The feeling was unfathomable). I decided to lay on the dirt instead of looking up, since eventually it would strain my neck and that was the last thing I needed. The sky looked even farther away. I just wanted to reach out and grab each of the stars and see what kind of secrets they hold. So many people wish on stars or shooting stars, and these stars probably hold so many wishes people have wished for that never came true. Each star holds some kind of story, and I wanted to dig deeper and see what kind of story it had.

I was close to falling asleep due to how relaxing it was to look up at the moon and stars. The air was cool too, and it was pretty cold, so that was also a big factor. I got off the ground and continued to walk the trail, and I had stopped again at one point to look up at the stars, since there were trees in such a weird pattern. It  was so beautiful to look at, even though it was so dark. Hopefully sometime soon, or in the near future, I move somewhere where I can see the stars perfectly every night and not have to make the effort to find a spot in town to search for maybe, twenty stars at the most. That night was the most I have ever seen (in person), and I wouldn't mind travelling somewhere to experience looking at the stars.

Highway Murder

The poem ‘’Highway 12, Just East of Paradise, Idaho’’ by ‘’Robert Wrigley’’ irritated me in the extent that the author was detailed in the way the truck hit the deer on impact. I can understand the author’s purpose of this, but having an overly imaginative imagination made it uncomfortable for me to read it and go in depth with it.  The way the author detailed the doe getting hit by the truck and having ‘’her tongue extend and her eyes go and her eyes go shock and vacant.’’ Made me think too vividly of how the deer possibly looked when it got hit. It’s mostly sad to read about animals getting hurt or killed for that matter in poems or any kind of read, which is mainly why I have a negative view about this. I have no complaints about the poem and I understand it perfectly. The only aspect is that it was kind of bothersome for me to read.

On the other hand, it was interesting yet kind of weird how the author was able to see the impact of the doe so perfectly even though there were no lights on the road. The author also could have been in the driver’s seat and was driving while he saw the impact, which would have been slightly difficult since he was focused on the road rather than anything getting hit in front of him. ‘’For which, I admit, I was grateful, the road there being dark, narrow, and shoulderless…’’. It’s understandable that the light from the truck hitting the doe made it easy to see the impact slightly to see what had happened with the doe, but it is still kind of odd. Maybe it was such a fast impact that the author did not even know what was happening until after the author had driven off from the scene, and happened to remember everything so perfectly and vividly while he was driving home? It also sounds disturbing how the author describes the doe as ‘’she skidded along the right lane’s fog line true to as a cue ball, until her neck caught a sign post that spun her across both lanes and out of sight beyond the edge.’’ The doe’s neck hitting the sign post sent chills down my spine since due to the fact that I can imagine the doe’s neck making a noise against the sign post as she made a turn, making it seem like it hurt the doe to some extent, even though she was dead. It is also easy to imagine the doe falling off a cliff or just lying dead on the floor, which makes it more disturbing to me, since it was just witnessed that a doe got hit by a truck that had shock-stricken eyes and did a turn to where she hit a sign post with her neck.

The poem itself is understandable that a doe got hit on impact and the driver (in this case, the author) witnessed it and described in some detail as to what had happened to the doe. But, it is still kind of a disturbing read, especially if the reader has an overly imaginative imagination. It is just kind of hard to understand as to why the author wrote a poem about how a doe got hit by a truck while on a drive home and wrote in detail as to what happened to her.

Ever After

The poem I decided to read was "Ever After" by ''Joyce Sutphen''. After reading it out loud for who knows how many times to get the meaning of it, piece by piece, it started to make sense. But, I was still curious about some parts, as how the first stanza was worded. "What am I to you now that you are no longer what you used to be to me?''. Maybe I am reading too fast and not taking the time to really read between the lines to see what it means, but it does not make sense to me. Somehow, I feel like it means that the author is referring to (which I have possibly concluded to the husband, since the author is a woman) is not the same person they used to be when they were together as a whole? Or maybe the wife feels like the husband has changed how he feels about her and everything towards her? It is intriguing to depict what she is referring to, or maybe I am just way too deep into just that one sentence.

As the poem went on, it starts to show that a possible divorce had taken place, or that the couple are so distant that they do not even know what they are considered, anymore. As the author goes on, she says ''words we rarely used (husband, wife) as when we once posed (so young and helpless) with our hands (yours, mine) clasped on the knife that was sinking into the tall white cake.'' , I feel like that could potentially mean that while they were younger (assuming they were in their teens or early 20's/30's), they were so helplessly in love with each other and knew where they were heading in life. But, earlier in the poem, it discusses how everything had been basically falling apart, and how ''...there is no us'', and ''...we once were is divided into me and you who are not one but two separate and unrelated persons except for that ex-...''. From those lines, I can assume that either their marriage fell apart by the ''there is no us'', but the marriage could possibly still be there, but the two people that got married are not there. Their thoughts, actions, emotions, things that sum up who they are are not present in the marriage, thus they are not two people, anymore. They are ''two separate and unrelated persons...''. But, why the ''ex-'' part? Is there an ex that could have taken the place of the author and that is why the marriage is not present, anymore? 

The poem makes sense, then turns in a different direction to make you think, as in the ''ex-'' part, that made me go off course (or just anyone in general reading the poem), and ascends back to the point where the author and the person they were with had something in the past, but that has all changed dramatically and they are not who they were, anymore. The poem is very interesting, and it made me think between the lines quite a bit, I just hope I am not reading too much into the lines that I have disregarded what they author is really referring to.

Prelude of Light

Throughout elementary school, I got bullied immensely for the way I looked. I was perceived differently for my looks and personality, but it hurt a lot worse in the first stages of Elementary.

Because of getting bullied constantly (and for no reason at that fact. I wore a dress to school and got bullied the whole day by one boy for looking ''ugly'' in it), I tried to take out my frustration and sadness with an activity that can make me forget the horrors I endured during school. I tried coloring, watching TV when I got home, or watching my brothers play video games. But, nothing worked. The back of my mind constantly held the insults and it was tearing me apart. One day, my brother noticed how gloomy I looked when I came home from school one day. He told me to go to the living room, where he had a Nintendo 64 set up, with a game title on the screen and the controller in his hand. He said, ''Here, play this. It will make you feel better.'' It was The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and I was incredibly happy to be able to play video games, because my brother wouldn't let me near any of his games in case I would break them. But, he allowed me this one time to play to see how I would enjoy it. 

(Game play from Sonic The Hedgehog on the Sega Genesis)

I had finally found something to make me forget everything that was happening during the day, and go to my own little world when I got home. Every day after school, I would go home and play whatever my brother decided was appropriate for me to enjoy. It was mostly Zelda (if you are unfamiliar with Zelda and have free time, here is what it's about: http://www.zelda.com/universe/?ref=) or Sonic, but either of those were perfectly fine, because it helped me forget things for just a little bit. I was still bullied in school for idiotic reasons, but it didn't matter at this point. I finally found a way to escape reality, to crawl into my own little world filled with pixels and graphics. Playing video games (specifically Zelda) got carried through Junior High, where, you guessed it, I got bullied there, too. Obviously, kids were older, smarter, and had harsher insults to think of, so the insults were a lot worse than how they were in Elementary school, and sometimes video games didn't work. But, I always managed to feel better when I picked up a controller rather than wallowing in self-pity over myself for looking the way I did, or acting the way I did around people. The insults didn't matter as I got through Junior High, because at the end of the day, I had something to turn to that would make me incredibly happy. 

(Game play from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time on the N64)

The bullied continued up until High School, but I was awfully pessimistic about basically everything (mainly because of all the bullying I endured), and insults didn't bother me as they should have. They went through one ear and out the other, and at this point, I was still playing video games. Not just to escape, but it kind of became an addiction. Or a luxury, should I add. Most days it was an escape from reality because it was too much to handle sometimes, but it was mostly to channel my creative energies. I ended up meeting people with the same interests as me, and it was such a exciting experience, since I could find people that liked the same things that I did. For the most part, a lot of games I got into made my creative juices flow while I was in class and a topic related to a few video games that I have played (so weird, but it got me an awesome grade!). Zelda, and video games in general, are very active in my life today. Not as much, because college likes to take a big part of my free time away along with other activities, but I can happily admit that video games got me through the dark times of my childhood. David had his escape through Alice, I had mine through pixels and graphics. 

Earliest Childhood Memory

When I was about 5 years old (estimate), I was playing basketball outside late at night with my father and one of my brother's friends. I was acting obnoxious, trying to show off to someone I've never fully met, before. That was my nature when I was little, and knowing me, I couldn't stop myself. Half way through the game, the friend (it's tedious to repeat ''friend'', but I would rather not name him) we had over was getting irritated with me constantly, since I kept jumping through the game, and having my father stop because, from his observance, ''I was being super adorable'', thus making the game stop periodically. Close to the end of the game, the friend told me to go underneath the basketball hoop, so I can catch the ball in my hands. My dad wasn't paying attention to what the guest had said, so I ran underneath the hoop to catch it to impress him. He made a perfect shot, which landed right on top of my head (the impact was a lot worse than it should have been, because I had the tendency to bang my head against things when I didn't get my way. Sad, but true. The constant hitting of my head made my skull/head more vulnerable to attacks). I was too little to remember what I had felt, but my dad tells me from time to time that he could have sworn he heard my skull crack. (From my dad's point of view) I fell  on the concrete, and passed out. He had called my mom, and disregarded the guest we had over. I was immediately rushed to the emergency room.

For some odd reason, I remember waking up on a bed that had a white sheet on it in a dark room. Directly above me was a yellow, dim light. I was looking around, not even sure where I was, until I heard voices. I sat up, and saw my mom talking to the doctor. They didn't hear me get up, so I walked into the hallway, and looked both ways. One way was all white, with a white door at the end of it. Above it was an obnoxiously red 'EXIT' sign. The other side of the hallway was an endless strip of white tiles and a perfectly waxed floor. It seemed like you could walk for an eternity and never find the exit. This all seems like a dream to me, at least the end of it. I can't fully remember if I dreamed of this when I was older, or if this really happened. If it was a dream, it was very descriptive and it seemed realistic. Each time I tell the story, more gets added, or I leave out a big chunk of it. 

I don't have any pictures of the event (thank goodness. I would question what my parents/who took the picture and ask why they were taking a picture of me passed out on the concrete rather than helping me? But, whatever). So, this is what I looked like when it happened!