amandamattice

[amandamattice]

09/26/2020

OH my gosh poor amanda. Looking back on these posts reads like a sad dramatic girl lost in her own mind. I feel sorry for past amanda, man did she like being sad. She loved being sad, loved to be sorry for herself. I feel so bad that she hated herself enough to ruin her life. She had to destroy everything around her to make it feel just as broken as she was. Sad amanda just loved to be sad !

Sad meant she had an excuse. Sad? aka drink. Sad? aka cutting. Sad? aka random sex. Sad? aka high. I hate that sad amanda thought that way !!! I wanna grab her and hug her and shake some sense into her !! Present day amanda, aka me, is so happy. I mean yes, I wish I wasn’t so chubby, or that I was on “the same path” as my peers, but I’m so freaking content !! 

Amanda, present or future, if you’re ever sad again, like that dark sad we don’t like, just remember how loved you are and how much you love other people. You love your friends and family so much. 

[amandamattice]

11/22/2017 (later on)

I don’t even want to type the words that are resting on my fingertips. I want to keep them there so that I can forget the thoughts in my head. I wanted to self harm tonight, really badly. I catch myself constantly ready to cry, I can’t even take a breath anymore. I feel like I’m always on the verge of breaking and I’m, almost to the point where I’m waiting for a breeze to push me one way or the other. I’m always on edge, always alert, always awake. I’m not sure if I will or not, but I had a craving to look at pictures of self harm and honestly I was jealous of the people who could run their fingers along the scabs and I missed the feeling. I know that’s wrong and I know I shouldn’t have those thoughts, because self harm is bad, but damn I’m craving it so bad right now I can almost feel it. Its I’m dragging my nails through my arm hoping that it will satisfy this craving, but nothing beats the sting. Something is happening inside my head, I can feel it coming back, like the old times.

I did it. It was as satisfying as I remembered. Fuck.

[amandamattice]

11/22/2017

I’ve dug myself into such a deep hole. I don’t know what way is up anymore or where I am. I’m scared I’ve gone too far to turn back now. Which way do I even call for help. I’m slowly giving up as my cries for help become a wimper and the pain in my chest becomes what I imagine a hug would feel like.

I’m lost. 

[amandamattice]

11/17/2017

As a wanna be writer at age 22, I like to think of myself as somewhat spontaneous and free wiled when it comes to my writing style. I have know for a majority of my life that I am meant to be a writer, even if it’s as somebody who is a mere indentation on the internet, but a writer nonetheless. I always knew that my fingers could type or write much faster than my brain could catch up with, making it almost impossible for me to ever get out my emotions in person, as than I can do on paper or on my computer. Ask anybody, Amanda cannot public speak, or even function as a human in public social situations. But when you put a writing tool and surface in front of me, I'm like a completely other person. I've always been fascinated by authors and writers, not even by what they wrote about (but they do write some truly amazing works,) but I have always thought of them as the most vulnerable and honest people that person can come across. Writers put every inch of their being into creating something, and even when its finished they can still feel as if their soul is not fully in their work. Or at least I have in my own works. Writers create not only for themselves in order to get their ideas into a proper outlet, but so that they can share with some audience the experiences that make them human. People need to feel less alone and they need to find connections with others in order to feel like they belong. For instance, at this moment I had to open my computer and type, yet I'm now so lost in my own thoughts that I don't even remember the exact reason I needed to write in the first place. But if I know anything, I know that I am meant to be a writer. Whether it was some force beyond my understanding that put me on this earth, or that the universe needed another set of hands to write down her ideas (yes, when I speak to the Universe or about the Universe she is a woman) I know that despite all the shit that happens in my life and when I feel like a coward, I know that writing I something that flows through me just like blood. I am able to express so much more of myself and be so vulnerable than anything else in my life. Most of the time when I write I don’teven have to think about want I'm writing about or what I'm going to say next, it honestly just flows out of me to the point that I can feel it. I can feel the words pumping though my arms down to my fingers and when I look back on it, damn am I proud. Anyways, I know I came on here to try and relieve myself of some kind of pain and suffering, maybe because I’m running low on wine, but I know that I truly live my best self when I'm trying or writing out what happens in my head. I imagine myself in a tiny one bedroom in New York, where my room in so tiny that my mattress takes up the whole room yet I'm surrounded by windows with the most breathtaking view of the city lights that anybody could imagine. I imagine myself as somebody who has a firm connection to reality, and somebody who can make a difference all by using their high school vocabulary. 

[amandamattice]

4/8/2017

There’s a silence on this floor, and not a good kind. The lights are so bright that you can hear them. The chairs sink in when you fall into them as if all the sighs and tears before you have somehow soaked into the material. The halls are stark, I don’t think I’ve ever used that word before, but here it is the perfect time for it. Everything seems sterile as if the bad thoughts will somehow transmit form my brain onto the counters and handrails. I felt lonely in a room full of people. I felt lonely as I was guided into my room and sat down at a table, and I remained lonely until the doctor said “welcome to the psych ward”. After that, I wasn’t lonely because the reality of what was about to happen kept me company.

It’s gonna sound crazy and sick which it is, and I know that, but when I was sick  back in grade 11 I used to pray that somebody would come in my sleep and take me away to a psych ward and make me all better. Now that I’ve experienced it I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake the feeling away. I was distraught, couldn’t think straight, and felt like I was on the verge of some kind of breakdown. I cabbed home from a friends house that night with my eyes as wide as I could get them and not even stopping to blink. I came home with my eyes wide as I could get them still preparing for some kind of colossal event to happen in front of me. Something was different and I was so wired that I felt like I could hear my blood pumping through my body, and that everything I did was precisely calculated. I remember thinking that I must be on the verge of a breakdown. So, with that in mind, I sat in bed just waiting for the tears to come. I was sitting there legs crossed studying everything around me, as if my room was the last thing I would ever see. I grabbed a razor blade and started slicing my wrist. Mind you I haven’t self harmed in 6 years, and I remember grabbing that blade and pressing in into my skin and thinking that I had to start slicing my skin in order for something to happen. A sign or a force that would wake me up from the trance I was in. Taking that blade to my arm felt like a breath of fresh air. I remember feeling as if everything was in slow motion, and all of a sudden I could feel pain and heat. My arm was massacred and there was blood everywhere. I looked down at what I had done and it didn’t even seem like my body. This bloody mess was in front of my covered in cuts and flaky skin. 

I know self harm is wrong, especially being 6 years clean.I knew that this could progress to something far worse than the usual satisfying sting that was dripping down my arm. I decided t go to the hospital before anything worse happened, which is where the psych ward comes into place. Arm sagging and dripping in blood, I asked to see a doctor which is where they looked at me with sadness as if I was one crack away from breaking in front of them. Have you ever seen that movie “It’s kind of a funny story”, well that’s what I can compare my experience to (as cliché as it is). I wanna call him a tour guide, which he isn’t, but somebody like that came and got me from the waiting room. We walked down some halls which all smelt like cleaning products with florescent lights above, and we made our way to the psych ward which took 3 separate locked doors to get into. I was asked if I had any sharp objects on me or drugs, both of which I did not have, then I sat in a brightly lit room for about 10 minutes before the same guy came back with a clipboard and pen in hand. He asked me why I thought I needed to be admitted, or why I was there in the first place, and I didn’t really have an answer. Cause I’m sad. Cause I’m fed up, cause I’m Amanda. Nothing I said could really encompass the emotions of loneliness and emptiness that I was really feeling. I don’t know what really switched inside me that made me think taking a blade to my arm would be a fix all, but obviously there was some kind of demon that overpowered my (little) positive thoughts, which is why I ended up amongst other people in a big stark room that lost their moral compass just like me. I sat there fiddling with my baby blanket as I tried to explain to this stranger how I felt so lost on a quest that seems so simple. Do school work, do good in school, graduate school, do life. This path that I’m on seems so unrealistic, I mean, am I even doing it for myself? Why did I pick to go to university and do hard classes and be around other people who hate university just to realize that I’m exactly as confused today as I was the day I set foot on campus. How do I explain that this privileged life I live is all a mask for the complete lack of emotions I have, and that by getting these material things I have will maybe spark an emotion being like “wow ok ur alive, not a zombie”. So I sat there across from this strange man and explained to him how I don’t sleep, and maybe that was why I all of a sudden I went crazy. I mean that wasn’t a lie, hey I’m writing this at 230 am so there’s something. I come from a long line of non sleepers, so it’s no surprise that I don’t sleep as rock solid as some people and that I consider 3 am “early” for me to go to bed. When I say that I don’t sleep, I mean that I’ll lay in bed for 10 hours and not sleep. I’ll listen to soothing music and slowly get engulfed by my duvet, and then 4 hours later I’m still lying there. When I say I don’t sleep, I mean I won’t sleep for days and then sleep for 16 hours straight. I lay there listening to sleep hypnotization or sleeping clinic soundtracks, and I can’t sleep. My body is so tired, yet my brain is so awake that I can see the ping pong like movements scattering around like rainbows inside my head. Ok now it sounds like I’m on drugs. But I lay there and my life disappointments plays out in a movie against my brain and I cannot think about how all my triumphs will never make up for the things I’ve done right. Me not sleeping seems like a punishment against my own body. Like each half is having a tug of war over who will admit their defeat first. I can’t win, so no matter what I do I’m the loser at the finish line with spectators looking down on me saying “wow how glad I am not to be you”.

When I think back at what happened now, its pretty hazy and almost like I’m trying to remember a dream that I had a long time ago. I remember how I felt and what I saw, but I can’t remember what I said or how I got from place to place. The sounds are all muffled and I keep wanting to think I remember more than I actually do. Ever since then I’ve been trying to force myself to be happy as much as I can. I’m trying to look forward to anything that will make me happy. I guess I’m not unhappy, but I’m just kinda emotionless. I was watching a video about this girl on youtube and she was explaining how she was depressed for so many years that it became normal. I have had that feeling for years now, and it sounds so weird to explain it to somebody else or to even say it out loud. I guess the best I can describe it as would be that the state of being depressed or just sad becomes comfortable, and for the moments of happiness and joy that do come along makes me feels weird, so I automatically have to revert back to my depressive comfort zone because I am just used to feeling that way. I never want to get my hopes up when I’m happy because I know it won’t last, and that people are never happy for long, but are they? Is it possible for somebody like me to be comfortable being happy?

[amandamattice]

2/9/2017

I want to talk about a controversial topic, religion. I want to say that I totally respect religion, and that each person has the right to believe in whatever the believe in. For me, I was brought up in a household that didn’t really talk about God or any kind of religion, however, my cousins and that side of the family is VERY religious, Christian to be exact. Whenever I used to visit my cousins we would never swear and never say “oh my God”. When I went to visit my cousins, I though of being around religious people as acting on your best behaviour, like not to fart at the dinner table. I always though my cousins and that side of the family were automatically more mature and sophisticated than I was because they said grace at every meal and they would never swear. I guess I was brought up in a Christian household, as my dad grew up in a religious household and so my grandparents expected some sort of respect to God whenever we went over to their house. I thought being Christian was like some kind of elite club, like the church was a super prestigious club that only the best of the best got to go to. So, whenever I went to visit my cousins, we would go to church and go to sunday school and talk about God and all the benefits of being loyal to God had. To be honest, I still don’t even know to this day if my 9 year old self believed what was going on. I was so amazed by the community that was church, and how elite it seemed, but maybe that was because my cousins are rich and elite and it made religion seem that way. Anyways, from about ages 7-12 I attended bible camp with my cousins. I was always more excited for the camp part and doing activities than I was about the religious part. Because this was bible camp, we obviously talked bout God and faith a lot. As it was a while ago and I king of blocked that part of my life out, I don’t remember a lot. For what I do remember, for everything we did, God was somehow incorporated into everything. I remember doing an activity up in the trees, like an obstucal course 30 feet above the ground, and whenever we would get scared they would say stuff like “God knows you can do this” or “God wouldn’t have made this challenge if you couldn’t do it”. In the moment, I think I was just going along with everything because I wanted to be involved in the world that my cousins were in. 

I don’t want to give any religion a bad rep, I don’t believe in that. Everybody can think what they want because we are all our own individuals. For me, I see now that I was involved in a lifestyle that had such high expectation, high expectations like “you must give your life to God or nothing at all”. We sang about God, raised our hands in his honour, thanked him for chicken strips and fries, and thanked him for all the opportunities around us. I started to realize in my last few years there, if God wanted me to have this food and this life, why didn’t he make me skinny ? I was a chubby kid, I was that kid who had 3 pieces of cake a birthday party instead of 1, and who could never borrow their friends clothes because I was too big. I remember being out with the girls from my cabin and some of them complaining about how they looked in a bathing suit, and me saying nothing because I wouldn’t even wear one because of how embarrassed I was. I always prayed that I would be skinny, and for God to help me lose weight. In grade 11 when I started being bulimic, I would pray that he would help me as I leaned over the toilet.

For a while I prayed every night, and by a while I mean about 5 years. I was told that God would forgive every sin I had as long as I would talk to him. So, at the end of each day, I would pray for my families safety, our health, our happiness, and then I would pray for the people I thought needed it. When I was 12 I prayed that my neighbours would stop fighting late at night. When I was 10, I prayed my parents wouldn’t get a divorce when I found my dad crying on the staircase. I would pray that my grades would be ok, or that my parents would’t get mad at me. I would pray when I felt like I had nothing left in me.

My grandpa was a big believer in God and heaven, and I’m sure he’s in heaven now, 100%. I haven’t prayed since the day he died. After about 5 or 6 years of praying every night, I haven’t. Him dying really changed me. I felt like I believed so hard in prayer and in the power God had, and the love that He had. Then He took my grandpa. I don’t know if I believe anymore. I don’t know if I ever believed, or if I just wanted to believe in something. Maybe it was a phase I went through to get closer to my cousins, or to make me fit in with my family more. 

I definitely am the odd seed in my family. My cousins are all going to be lawyers, teachers, or doctors; saving themselves for marriage and getting straight A’s. Then there’s me. I lost my virginity at age 17 on a one night stand, done drugs, drank until I passed out, snuck boys into the house, swore at my parents, failed a class, slept with 20+ guys, you name it I’ve done it. I’m the one at family dinners that people wonder if I will amount to anything because I’ve chosen English over Science to study. I feel like that innocent girl who once was blindsided by religion and wanting to fit in is like a whole other life. When I think of that girl it seems like an out of body experience. It’s crazy how one person, or one decision can change the rest of your life. Religion is weird for me, cause I know I once believed in something, but was it believing in God or believing in a lifetime of forgiveness that I found more appealing?

[amandamattice]

1/18/2017

IM HAPPY AND SMILING. This, wow. This feeling is unbelievable. I haven’t felt this way in such a long time I sometimes have to check if I’v taken drugs or not (well right now I’m high but thats just now). I told myself all winter break that I wouldn’t let myself become sad and lonely and uninterested like I used to be. As much as it pains me to say it, a lot of it has to be with me actually taking care of my mind and body. I’ve been going to the gym a lot more which makes those endorphins flow and makes me feel so much better about myself. It’s all about the small accomplishments. A big thing that I don’t have the patience for is to let my body adjust. I always expect to make a small change and have big results, which isn’t how anything in the world works. I’ve been pushing myself harder to see results, to feel better, and it honestly works. So far I’ve just been more aware of the little things and been trying to appreciate the little things around me. Look up when I’m walking, say hi to people, be appreciative, smile at strangers. I dunno man, I’m feeling pretty golden. I haven’t felt this way is a while, and by only making small adjustments, I’m not really ever disappointed. I feel good about how things are going right now. *knocking on wood* 2017 is mine, things can only go up my friends.

Seriously, when have you heard me admit to being happy ?! 

[amandamattice]

1/2/2017

This year, man. This year has probably been the worst one that I’ve come across in a while. 2016 brought a lot of highs, but even more lows. I found myself peering into my life from the sidelines, or from some weird alternate world where I couldn’t stop anything from happening. At some many points this year I felt helpless and defeated, not two feelings that are particularly great to feel over and over again. 2016 took pieces of me that I won’t ever get back, and that scares me almost as much as it amazes me. Parts of me were slowly chipped away and others were torn right out of me before I could take a breath. There’s a weird way that people have entered and left my life this year. This year, two people left my life because the grim reaper took them, I saw two people that I love die in front of me. Seeing two strong people, who have been with my whole life, all of a sudden just stop existing has left a massive weight on my chest that makes it hard to breathe. I’ve only cried twice. For somebody who cries about just about anything, I haven’t cried very much because I think that if I cry it will seem real and that I have to accept that they aren’t away on a vacation like it feels, but they are gone forever and I will never see or hear or feel them again. This year I talked a lot about feeling like I was constantly drifting through life and never really felt connected to anything. I never felt any strong connection or sense of emotion to anybody or anything I did, I guess lack of passion would be the word (or sentence) I would use. I was always just doing what everybody else did and I would get frustrated that I didn’t feel anything. This resulted in me never leaving the house, or my bed, for days on end. I had no passion or need to do anything or see anybody. I isolated myself so far from everything that eventually this normalcy of isolation became comfortable, which it shouldn't have. It’s not normal to stay in bed for days and to sleep for days. I was so caught up in trying to not let myself become depressed that I made myself pull away from everything I once liked or found interesting. I found myself very unconsciously lonely. I was comfortable with being alone a lot of the time, but in all reality I was just so lonely that I justified it. This year I found unbelievable comfort in music. I’ve always been a fan of music and ask anybody, when I start to like an artist I go from zero to one-hundred in about five seconds. I think I found more comfort and appreciation for lyrics and meaning than I did in the real songs. I would listen to albums on repeat in the dark with my eyes closed and everything around me seemed to disappear and I felt like I was under a trance or in some weird alternate universe. I became attached to songs and almost lived through them as a way to escape whatever I was dealing with. I guess twenty sixteen wasn’t all bad cause I became much more attached to music than I ever have been, so that’s one thing to be thankful for. What I have to constantly remind myself is that nobody is going to fulfill my dreams for me and the only person who can stop me is me. I know I’m my own worst enemy, and that is both an encouraging and frightening thought but it’s true. With the people who have left me in twenty sixteen, it just goes to show how one day is all it takes for your life to be altered forever, whether its for the best or the worst. Life will still keep moving forward no matter how much you try to avoid it or to shy away, its still gonna be there. 

What I hope this next year will bring is that fire and passion that I used to have for wanting to learn, wanting to explore, wanting to try new things, and just want to live a non-boring life. I want to challenge myself and push myself to not use “tomorrow” as an excuse to not do what I want because what if there isn’t a tomorrow? So here’s to the lessons learned, the mistakes made, the tears, the bruises, the screaming, crying, and laughing. Here’s to a year with more chances of tomorrow and better yesterdays. Here’s to 2017.

oh and tattoos, lots of tattoos. 

[amandamattice]

12/18/2016

When people say “you’ve changed”, everybody assumes it’s something bad and always affiliated with negative emotions. Why is change so bad? I mean, wouldn’t it be weird if you didn’t change? What if everybody went through their whole life without ever changing their minds, their perspectives, or their values. It would be a shitty world if nobody had the courage to change. All the people and heroes we read about, anybody who made a difference, decided that at a certain moment they wanted to change and go against the flow of where their life was leading them. If nobody changed, then all the mistakes we made would stay as mistakes, and we would probably make the same mistakes over and over again until something catastrophic happens because we would never learn. I mean, there are tons of times where I’ve had to change in order to keep myself out of harms way. Whether it was surrounding myself with the wrong people or cutting my arms so much and watching the blood trickle down, that I finally had that ‘click’ go off in my head saying that something needs to happen and that I need to pick myself up and get away. I think people use the word change so much to describe people’s attitudes that it doesn’t even sound like word anymore. “You’ve changed”, is that a compliment or a diss? This sentence that we use when we are upset with somebody doesn’t even register as anything except a space to fill the words that you really wanna say. I don’t think there will ever be a moment when we are not changing. We’re taught to fear change because it’s unknown and it doesn’t always mean something new that is a good thing. Change can occur after something horrible and sad, or it can happen because of something amazing and happy. We don’t get to decide what happens because of change, but we can decide how we move on from it. I hope, for all our sakes, that we continue to change.

[amandamattice]

11/29/2016

With first term coming to an end this week, I honestly feel tiny gaps in my mind where I’m able to hear my thoughts again. This whole year has kinda been me just floating through life, especially when it came to school. I was never really all there, I didn’t have any passion for the things I normally do and I was just kinda doing it because I had to submit papers and do something with my life. I haven’t felt myself this term and I can tell that the closer I get to going home, the more excited I get because I feel like I’ll start to be Amanda again. I would call myself a drifter, or maybe an emotional drifter is better suited. I go to school, hang out with friends, go to the gym, and go home all on a routine that I could probably do in my sleep. I haven’t really felt anything for a while, not numb like how I used to be, but just kinda like a piece of dust that just floats along being insignificant. I constantly feel out of place and like I’m a burden to people, even though there is no real sign of anybody actually thinking that. So I would say the term emotional drifter is probably the perfect term I would use to describe myself right now. I think why I want to go home so bad is because I haven’t really found anybody at school that I can connect with super well. I feel like I’m always searching for something to say and that there are always words stuck on my tongue but I can’t spit them out. I was looking at pictures of depressive blogs the other night when I couldn’t sleep, I don’t know why but I had a period of about an hour when I felt super sad and just unable to get ahold of any future plans that I had. I felt like I would be stuck in this room in my house for the rest of my life and that I would progress no further than where I am. I don’t feel sad like I used to, and even when a picture of people cutting came up, I didn’t want to do it. I just feel kinda stuck, uninspired, and kinda lost. 

[amandamattice]

11/18/2016

Last year around this time I posted a very sad and honest realization I had around my 20th birthday. I was depressed, lonely, and had climbed myself into a hole of loathing and regret that seemed to have no way out. I had made the same mistake one too many times and I was at the point where nobody cared if I cried wolf. Looking back on that post now, I’m still saddened and disappointed in the person who once wrote those awful messages and who’s life that was; it seems like a different person. A year ago, I was still being an idiot, but I think the main thing was that I wasn't taking any responsibility for any of my actions. Everything I did was then backed up by an excuse or was not my own fault, even when it was. I was blinded by a sheet of unrealistic expectations I had in myself and I didn’t want anybody to place more blame on myself than I already had. This time last year, I had a falling out with my best friend and used that as an excuse to either be dumb or to be sad. I used being sad at somebody to either gain me sympathy or to become even more sad and stupid, that I could make whatever I did seem less awful. I was a mess. I remember last year thinking if I were somebody else, would I want me as a friend? I thought for a while and I decided that I’m a good friend on the outside, but not on the inside. I’m shy and secluded, which comes off as either uninterested or bitchy. I think last year I was so focused on being somebody I wasn’t, trying to be somebody that I thought everybody would like, that I became so unattached to my own body that I was unable to recognize myself anymore. I was rude and stuck up and felt like I deserved the world even though I had put out nothing in return. So what changed.

This year I felt so much loss that my heart hurts just thinking about it. It was only recently that I had my first ever panic attack, and was the first time I cried in therapy. For somebody who wears their heart on their sleeve, I was surprised with the emotional rollercoasters that I went through. I lost two of the most important people of my life, my great grandma and my grandpa, both fascinating people who made such a mark in the world. I only hope I can be as great as them. The thing is with these losses, I haven’t cried. You can ask anybody, and I’m no joke always the one crying. I could cry at anything, I’m just very emotional ! I think because these two people were so close to me it doesn’t seem real that they are gone. It feels like they are on a trip and they will come back home soon. I can tell that I want to cry about them, I can physically feel a weight on my chest that has become normal because every so often I want to bawl my eyes out but I don’t. I think I’ve made up an elusion that if I don’t cry about them that they won’t really be dead. This year something finally clicked that I was like ok hey amanda you are not the center of the world and you need to stop living in a bubble. I will say that I did live my life for a while expecting everything to be given to me, maybe because my parents spoiled me or because of what I saw on the media, but I felt like I was entitled to so much more than I was given. But I am not a celebrity or a princess. I’m an insignificant speck of matter that wonders the earth and I do not get things handed to me on a silver platter. If I want something there is nobody else who will get it for me other than me. 

I’ve gone off track. But, what I think I want to circle back around to is that I am not the same person I was last year, and I feel sorry for the girl who started her 20th birthday feeling alone and sad. I started off my birthday weekend (not even just a day, but a weekend) with people who I love and who love me back. Yeah I felt fat and yeah I was missing some friends, but it was one of the happiest times I’ve had in a long time. To feel loved is worth more than anything else in the world. So, Amanda, now that you’re 21, I want you to know that I’m proud of how things are going right now. Let’s show 20 that 21 will kick it’s ass.

[amandamattice]

10/18/2016

I’ve been a bit lonely at school, but despite of the sad feelings every few days, I’ve fallen in love with music. I wouldn’t say I was not in love with music before, I mean ask anybody, I always have music playing no matter what I’m doing: cooking, cleaning, showering, driving, walking, running, shopping, talking, thinking. Over the past few weeks I’ve just been in a slump or funk and the only think that makes me feel better is to put my headphones in, close my eyes, and blast songs that make happy so loud that my brain feels like its vibrating. The other week I was watching a movie and rediscovered one of my favorite songs that I hadn’t heard in years, Kings and Queens by 30 Seconds to Mars. I know what you’re thinking, you’re jumping on the Jared Leto bandwagon because of that movie where he looks like a freak with green hair but is still sexy as hell at the same time. I would be lying if that was not the reason I googled his band and found this song because it totally is what happend. Just hearing the first few seconds of this song, I could honesty feel the endorphins being released in my body. I was so happy all of s sudden because of the song. The lyrics, the beat, the screams, the yells, the emotions. So I kept wanting to find songs that made me feel less sad and made me appreciate the emotions that these songs were made to make you feel. I don’t know what kind of slump I’m in, well actually it’s because I forgot to take my medication so I keep having OBE (out of body experiences) and it really freaks me out and makes me feel disconnected. Just taking in the 4 or 5 minutes reserved for the songs makes me calm down and just focus on what I’m hearing, and visualizing the good times associated with the songs. When I was googling live versions of the songs that I liked, because live versions of songs are everything, I kept noticing how unbelievably comfortable the band was, not only with each other, but the way the didn’t treat their fans or themselves like two polar opposites, but just people who have come together to sing and appreciate music. I was watching videos of Jared running full on into the crowd so that he could sing with people, or get them all into a bug group, or pulling tens of people up on stage. It was like nothing I had seen before. And then when I thought it couldn’t get better and my smile couldn’t get bigger, there he was at a camp for the fans. Camp Mars. I have never seen any band do this ever, where everybody who love their music can come together and hang out and party together ! Sign me up!

Anyways, this post was kind of a reminder to me, or the internet people, to not just listen to music for the sake of listening, appreciate it ! It’s like art for the ears and is made to be felt and loved. Thank you freak with the green hair, you reintroduced me to me. 

[amandamattice]

09/20/2016

MY GOD. Ok I haven’t wrote anything down for a few months now and I don’t really even have anything interesting going to re recap about. I’m back at school and so far it has consisted of me mostly sitting in bed watching Grey’s Anatomy (no shocker there), reading about deprived people around the world, and making sure my room looks like a show room at every moment of the day. It’s weird being back at school. I have that feeling where I’m like “ok has it started?” like when your birthday happens and then the next day you’re like “did my birthday just happen or did I forget”? Anyone? Ok, just me. I decorated my room so nice this year I’m obsessed and I just want to live in this little bubble and be cozy and warm and cute forever. It’s weird not having some of my friends here cause I always just wanna run into their rooms and say hi but they aren’t here.. so I can’t. I’ve decided that I’m gonna take a full five years to finish uni which honestly, I’m not even mad about. I’m gonna take my time, I’m gonna rock these classes and I’m gonna try and become more mature. So far I’ve only blacked out once and I’ve only left the stove on once too and nothing even blew up ! I haven’t mad anybody cry and haven’t wanted to kill myself so I’d say all signs are pointing up. The weather went from super hot to fall in the spand of about a day so I can start wearing jeans again and big baggy sweaters (thank god) because I definitely did NOT get my summer bod so I don’t have to watch people parade around in outfits I can only dream of wearing. The past summer was unbelievable. I had so much fun and I didn’t die or anything (almost died from alcohol but what else is new). Work was, work was the best time ever. I made so many friends and got to make money while enjoying myself. We conquered Pemberton for the second time and not once did I want to leave !!! It was unbelievable and I can’t wait to go back again. The fam was away most of the summer, so like last year, I would sit around my kitchen smoking some j’s and playing music till the walls started shaking and I had a headache. I had weird sex with this weird guy and then he told me he liked me, so that was weird (literally no other word to use than weird, maybe uncomfortable?) Why is it that all the weird boys tell me they like me, when will a cute one with tattoos and shaggy hair and a nice smile tell me they like me?!?!? (cause that doesn’t happen amanda). I’m still getting waves of sad days where I think about last year and the people who I lost. I’ve only really cried about grandpa and grandma about 3 times. I can still feel the heaviness in my chest when I think about them, but I dunno, it’s almost like I don’t wanna do that bug cry because I don’t wanna feel like I’m coming to end of losing them. I’ve been feeling at about a 7. I kinda feel alone sometimes because I don’t have as many close friends here as I used to, but it makes me excited to think about how much closer I got with friends over the summer, so that makes me smile. I really, really, really hope that I don’t do anything stupid this year, well like minor stupid is ok, but not die or burn the house down or get pregnant, not that kind of stupid. I always repeat to myself every school year how I’m gonna make it great and the best and all that shit, but I actually want to see it happen and be able to look back and see how I made smart choices and changes for the better, not just plan them out and never do it. I’m hoping for the best, expecting the worse, and assuming I’ll fall somewhere in between. 

[amandamattice]

06/28/2016

I’ve had another break down. Mind you, this break down was not as bad as I had predicted nor had intended for it to be. Once again, I let my parents down for simply being me; or for being ‘me’. I’ve been trying so hard to stay on a good path where I can make my parents proud and be reliable. It seems that everything I do, even when I think I’m being good, there is always something that they can pick apart to make it me awful. Granted, even when I think I’m being mature an responsible, there are always ways for me to improve. I do admit that I think I can do no wrong. I’m very stubborn and I hate being wrong more than anything. I think that’s why I’ve been working my ass off at work, it’s because I know I don’t handle criticism well and that if I keep my head down and do my work then I won’t have to worry about people telling me off. Anyways, I was out with work friends and I stayed out too late. In my mind, I’m thinking I’m being responsible. I’m with co-workers who I trust and who my parents trust, I’m 2 mins away from my house, and I’m not driving. In my mind, I was being responsible. To them, I am apparently self centred, immature, careless, a bitch, selfish, and clueless. That hurt. I try so hard to put everybody  before myself, and I like to think that I do a damn good job of trying to please others before I please myself. It seems that for every little thing that I do, one ‘big’ thing outweighs every other good thing that I have done. I’m sure to most people I would be a perfect child, or somewhere close to that. Yes, I admit that I have my flaws and that my fuck up are kind of an ‘all or nothing’ kind of thing. Yet, in a time where I’m working my ass off day and night, at home and at work, you would think that me, a 20 year old, would deserve a one night break to stay out and to drink (in the safety of a place 5 mins from home with friends). Every time I feel as if I’m progressing my parents seem to find anything to pick me apart and make me feel like shit. I’m not perfect, i’m far from it. It isn’t fair that one negative can outweigh all the positives that have been happening. 

[amandamattice]

06/7/2016

I had somebody ask me today if they could read my blog. My first instinct was to say no and to shut down anything that could lead to uncovering the deep thoughts contained in the world wide web that I have tried to forget about. Instead, when I got home, I thought about the things I try so hard to cover up. I’m ashamed of the person I let myself become, and the person that I let others define me as. I started to think about the titles I have been defined by and the weight it has pressed on my shoulders: the slut, the mistress, the liar, the whore; the list goes on. I live my life based on what others define me as, and I’ve been ok with taking the heat. You see, I’ve slowly started to build myself up from the names that previously defined me. I don’t want to have my dignity defined off of one trait, name, or mistake that I’ve made. When I look back on my previous posts I can’t help but feel sorry and ashamed for the person who once was shielded behind a computer screen with no other outlet to express by. I wish I could reach out to that person and tell them that no sequence of actions defines a person; that nobody defines who you are. Throughout this past year I have experienced more emotions than I wish to admit to. I’ve lost two of the most important people in my life, as well as drifting away from my most close friends. I’ve experienced too many artificial highs and too many painful lows, I wish everything could pause and be normal for a few moments. As I wish everything could be back to the way it used to be, I’m also grateful for the same change. I’ve had to grow up this past while and have had to learn to deal with many adjustments. Right now I’m happy to say that I’m genuinely content with life, which isn’t something I have said for a long time. I’ve learned to grow with change rather than reject it, which i think is something I've realized is a good thing rater than bad. 

[amandamattice]

4/3/2016

Why does wanting somebody hurt so bad. Why does needing somebody cause actual physical pain. They never meant anything before you met them, never occupied an inch of your mind, body, and soul. So how come now are they all of a sudden the only thing the mind can think of ? Or the only thing the body craves. They once meant nothing, now it seems they mean everything.

[amandamattice]

3/12/2016

I don’t even know what to write anymore. I feel like I’m just regurgitating everything over and over again. I’m lonely and sad. I feel like nobody wants to be my friend anymore or even try to be my friend. Everybody picks me apart as if I’m one big joke and that I have no emotions concerning my judgement calls. I’m so sad all the time and I don’t feel like I have anybody to turn to. I sit in my room for days and nobody texts me or calls me, nobody even cares that I’ve been in my room alone. I feel invisible to everybody. I’m just the stupid drunk girl who does dumb stuff and falls down stairs or trips on the curb.Nobody realizes that I have emotions, that I get mad at myself so much I don’t need other people ripping me into shreds. I’m embarrassed by my actions, the way I look, the way I talk, everything. Lately I just feel like I’m living for other people. I have no clue what’s going on inside my brain. i’m taking my medication and I try to do things that make me happy but nothing is helping. I’m so sad I can’t get out of it. I feel like nobody cares about me anymore and that everybody is fed up with me. I don’t know what to do anymore. Do I keep trying, or am I just not worth it. Everybody gets mad at me when I’m not even fully in the wrong. There’s nothing I say anymore that people care about. I’m completely irrelevant in everybody's lives. I just feel so alone and sad all the time I feel like nobody even thinks twice about my emotions. I get mad at myself so easily I don’t need anybody else getting mad at me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m just fed up with being invisible.