Vegetarian

It's late, so I'll just make this a quick update.

I am now a vegetarian.

Why?

I believe it's healthier.

More on this later.

Goodnight. <3

Dear Mr. Oliver Sykes,

Why am I writing? Because I need someone. I need to tell someone what is happening in my head. Who better, than someone who won't listen? Not that anyone else I could've told would truly listen either. But I like to think you might just read this. 

Just the other day, I saw a picture on the Internet. Of course, you can never trust the validity of anything there. But it was a screen shot (or looked to be) of your Instagram-olobersykes (or so it said). It said someone had given you their last razor. The rest of "your" quote (I only say "your" because I don't know if it really was you) went on to talk about cutting and depression. You said to listen to your music. I guess my point is: it made it seem like you really get some of this crap. The crap in my head. And it made me think about telling someone.

As I write this, I am listening to your Sempiternal album, as you said. It is at full volume, and on repeat, as it usually is.

Perhaps I should get on to the things I need to talk about. It's just hard to do, since they are not easy things for me to talk about and it isn't easy for me to talk to people in general, even if they aren't listening.

Alright.

Things I Need to Say:

First, you should know who I am. I am Conner Skuse. I am a seventeen year old girl from America. I love you (in the "I'm a huge fan" way, not the "I want to have your babies" way) and Bring Me the Horizon. Also, You Me at Six is amazing. I live in a small town in Michigan. I live with my mother and younger sister. I have a total of two friends. One of them, my best friend, is my boyfriend. He's the only one that I can really talk to. So, now, you're wondering "Why don't you waste HIS time with this bullshit?" Because he's always being taken from me. His father is strict when it come to grades, you see, and Logan, my boyfriend, isn't the best at math.... So, for the year and a half we've been dating, he's been grounded for at least 10 months of it.

That's part of the crap. The crap in my head, that is. But I should explain the other crap first.

Growing up, my parents fought all the time. I don't remember much of it, but I know my dad was an alcoholic then, a mean one. As I got older, I realized we lived just above the poverty line, and even bellow it a few times (we had been homeless when I was an infant). But, my father didn't work. He had a few random jobs. But, after awhile, he stopped trying altogether. My mom worked hard, long shifts to support me, my elder brother, younger sister, and father. When I was about 13 or 14 years old, I began to rebel against my whole family. I dated bad guys who were worse to me than my father had ever been to my mother. I snuck out at night, drank, smoked, snorted. Then I found a boyfriend who I thought was perfect. He was different than the other guys. I cleaned up, but only a little. And then that boy, after nearly three months of dating, got bored of me. He started seeing other girls. When I went to confront him, before I could say a word, he dumped me. About a month or two later, I cut myself for the first time. I did it for almost a year. I started skipping class with a friend and we would smoke and cut together. 

Finally, I was caught. I felt so bad when I saw how it hurt my mom to know what I was doing. I quite smoking, drinking and drugs. But I continued to rebel at home. I fought with my siblings endlessly. I started arguments with my father too. 

When I was a sophomore, I met a boy who thought I was perfect. He eventually asked me out and I said yes. We'd been together a few months, when one day, at my house, one of the fights with my father started. I'll be honest and say I do not remember what started it, but I know, whatever it was, it was stupid. My father threatened to call the cops on Logan if he didn't leave (not that Logan had done anything whatsoever). Logan made his way to the door, and I tried to follow. My father got in my way, and when I tried to push past him, he smacked me across the face. Later, my jaw swelled and bruised from the force of his hand. Since that moment I didn't dislike my father anymore; I hated him.

Hate. "Hate is a strong word." Then hate truly is the word to describe my feeling for him. And, yet, I cry. I cry because I miss the time when I was just a child and I believed he was good. I though I knew how he was. I did not see the fights, they were soon forgotten. I went on, blindly happy. And then, I grew up. It was quick, I can't even tell you how it happened. It seems like I woke up one day and I was no longer blind to the reality of that man and of our house, our economic state....

But I continued on with the life I grew to hate. Day after day. Returning to the same home, walking through the house, straight to the room I shared with my sister. I stayed there until I was called for dinner. Then I did my chores and it was back to that room. I begged my mother countless times: "Please... I'd rather live in a home than here... I wouldn't mind the shelter.... Just not here, not with him....." She said she would when she could, she was trying. I grew impatient... And then, I gave up. I didn't believe she would ever be able to leave him. I talked to my boyfriend of moving out at 18. "I'll get a job and save. I want to be moving on my birthday, I don't even need a party or presents. And, once I leave, I'll never see him again." 

Two weeks ago, we moved into a new house. My mom found it, just outside of the town we live in. We're moved. I have a job. We're away from him.

But I cry. I cry every night. I am losing so much sleep, I can barely pull myself from bed. It's hard for me to eat. I have to drag myself through work, trying my hardest to keep up. My homework is pilling up, but I can never get to it... Because there's always more to occupy my mind. 

I guess, Oli Sykes, the point of this is only to do as that picture said: "just tell someone about it". It did help, I suppose. I'm sure someone who is as famous as you are wouldn't really care to hear the problems of some messed up 17 year old fan girl. But, nobody else can listen to me either. 

If you actually read this, thank you for your time. I love your music.

Sincerely,

Conner M. Skuse

Marriages and Divorces

Lovely topic, eh?

Of all the people who get married, (enter statistic here) get divorced. I'll be honest and say I'm not sure what that statistic is (and I'm too lazy to look it up), but I can make my point without an exact percent. (Really, any amount of divorces is too many, so it shouldn't matter, right?)

So, (number of people again) get divorced. (You know, I want to say it's 50%, but I'm not positive....) there has to be a reason for this, right?

Now, I'm not a marriage expert. I mean, I'm a 17 year old. But, one of the answers seems pretty obvious to me:

GET TO KNOW THE PERSON BEFORE YOU AGREE TO SPEND YOUR LIFE WITH THEM.

So, of course, any couple will say "Oh, I DO know him/her. He/she CHANGED."

Okay, yes, that is possible. But it's seems (again not an expert and I don't follow EVERYBODY'S relationships) like a lot of people (18+ .... Well, even kids my age and younger...) are dating for a few months, or even a few weeks, then getting married.

When you go into a marriage it just seems like common sense to think about it critically. You should automatically ask yourself some questions about this person (men should ask these questions BEFORE the ask THE question):

Do I truly think I can live with this person for the rest of my life?

Does (s)he have any annoying habits? Are the habits something I can live with?

Am I ready for the stress of a wedding? The stress of living together, sharing money (unless there's a prenup), splitting payments, etc?

Am I REALLY willing to deal with this person through good times AND bad times?

Will I be accepting of the possible changes this person may make in his/her personality and will I be able to stick with them if my own views/morals/personality change?

And, of course, I'm sure there are many other questions everyone should ask themselves, but this is what I've got for now.

50% (yes I looked it up, finally. I was right^_^) of marriages end in divorce... All those wasted weddings. Wasted honeymoons. Wasted time. Wasted love. Wasted stress and pain. All for a divorce. I feel like that 50% would be smaller if a few people would think more logically about things....

I've been with my boyfriend for a year and seven months (as of the 1st of May). Am I sure that we will grow up and get married and live happily ever after? No. I don't know that. He doesn't know that (although, he'll probably tell you he is). Do I still love him? Yes. I do love him. But love is an emotion most people use incorrectly. You can't be ready to marry someone after a few months. All of those "cute stories" of love at first sight are crap. They were just lucky, or tolerant.

You Know, Just Because You're Happy.

You know when you're happy? Everything seems to be going really well, no complaints. In fact, good things are just on the horizon.

But then life is like "Lol nope".

And sometimes it really fucks things up for you. Like it takes something you were really looking forward to and it snatches it completely way, then takes something horrible and shoves it up your ass.

And the there are times when it just takes things away and gives you a little bit of hope to keep you going and mostly happy.

The. It does the worst thing of all. It changes that thing. It makes it into something bad, something you really don't want. And then you ask life "Why?!" And life just smiles and say "You know, just because you're happy." Then it laughs in your face and runs off to ruin someone else's day.

That's similar to what is happening to me. The third option, that is.

We're finally moving. Finally, after all these years. We don't have to deal with that man who has plagued us with his presence for so long; taking all we had and never returning the favor. And at first, I was happy. I was so happy. Beyond happy.

And now, it's different. That man, although I all but hate him, is my father. I do not cry because I wish I wasn't leaving. I cry because I should be upset. I should be able to cry for being taken from my father. I should miss him when he's gone. I should be able to. I should be able to think of my dad as someone I love, because he is my flesh and blood. But I don't. I can't. I won't allow it, yet I long for that feeling. I cry because I am jealous of those who have a father. I don't love him, I don't even like him. He is a man that I wish I had no connection to whatsoever. But there should be someone there to fill his place, to be an actual dad.

I can't cry to my mother, she'd think I didn't want to go through with it.

I can't cry to him, like he'd even give a shit about my tears.

I can't cry to the one person who would listen because he is being held captive, away from me.

I can only bottle it up inside me and wait until it's over. Both anticipating and dreading our move.

Thank you life.

Why couldn't you just let me be happy?

Over-exaggerations Teens Love to Use/Pet Peeves

For some reason teens love to make things a bigger deal than they are. I know this is kind of obvious. Everybody knows teens (especially girls) are over-dramatic and whinny about a lot of things. This brings me to some of my pet peeves. I hate it when people over-exaggerate EVERYTHING.

Most commonly seen/My Most disliked:

1-A couple just got together less than a week ago-they are IN LOVE. No! No you are not in love!! I do not care how cute (s)he is! I don't care how sweet they are at first! You are just being naive! You don't love them, they don't love you! I'm sorry, but I am not a believer in "love at first sight". That theory was made by Hollywood and writers to catch interest in their viewers/readers. Because of this, people are brainwashed to believe that just because they're dating means they HAVE to love each other right away! That just isn't true!! I have no shame in saying I was not in love with my boyfriend when I first met him, not even a little. It took several years for me to even get to know him enough to like him. When I first met him, I thought he was immature and dumb. Now, I know him. Now, I've been with him for a year and a half! I can say I do love him, because I know I do! I KNOW him.

2-You had a bad day. Now your whole life is horrible. The worst. No one knows what it's like to have a life like yours. You're going to "kill yourself". So, what do you do? You get on the Internet. You go to some social site and complain. You tell everybody how bad your life is and how you just want to die. And this time you aren't joking. Then when someone says you're being stupid you say you cut yourself and have tried killing yourself 20 times (a real conversation I had with a girl). For one thing, true cutters who have a true reason to cut, don't broadcast it! They don't tell people! They HIDE IT. An attention whore, however, will claim they cut themselves all the time and have "almost" killed themselves. This is bullshit. No, you didn't. And if you did, it's because you're being over-dramatic. There are people out there who have killed themselves. People who had much worse lives than you. Get over yourself.

How to Survive My Life

My life as the girl in the background. The one no one notices? "Who?" "What girl?" The one no one really cares to notice? The one everybody figures is actually a mute, or that's what they'd think if they thought about her. That's me.

So, you're probably wondering: How the hell do you do it? How can you just stay so quiet? What about friends? Relationships?

I have friends. A couple..... Okay, one. Two, if you count Logan, but most people don't. I don't need a lot of friends. A lot of friends mean a lot of drama. I don't want a lot of drama. And, my one friend is probably a better friend to me than all of your thousands of friends out together. She doesn't gossip about me. She doesn't spread nasty rumors. She listens to me. We have real conversations about real things. And when we disagree (which isn't often) we either drop the subject or have an intellectual debate on the matter. We don't hate each other because she bought those shoes I said I wanted.

I'm in a relationship. I have been for almost a year and a half. My boyfriend is the aforementioned Logan. Most people don't count boyfriends/girlfriends as friends. But if we do count him, he is my best friend. I can literally talk to him about EVERYTHING. He is probably the best thing in my life. He's what makes my existence (just because no one pays attention to me like I don't exist, doesn't mean I really don't) worth while. If I had the choice, I would lock the two of us away, so we'd never have to see the outside world. But even if that was possible, it wouldn't be my choice alone. I'm sure he'd get tired of me, but I know I'd never tire of him. He is my EVERYTHING.

How do I stay quiet? It's quite simple, really. You know that whole in your face? The biggest one? Close it. Keep it closed. Only open it when it is completely mandatory. This type of lifestyle requires one thing: you have to be shy. Shy as hell. The shyest you can possibly get. Think of how shy you might be before going on stage in front of thousands of people. Pretty shy, right? And nervous? Multiply that by infinity. That's me. That's how I am.

How the hell do I do it? Well, I guess I'm just used to it.

So Close

We are making our first steps away from dysfunction.

We aren't quite to fully functioning.

But we're getting close.

About a month ago, my grandmother mentioned to my mother that she had seen a house for rent along the highway just outside of the town we live in. My mother and I investigated said house. Unfortunately (or so it seemed), the house was NOT for rent, but it was for sale. Upon seeing the sign, my mother was ready to give up. I persuaded her to continue to look around the outside of the house and to take down the number and call the owner.

About a week passed without mention of the house.

One day, I asked my mother if she had contacted the owner of the house. She had and had set up a date with them on which they would show the house to her. I insisted my mother take me along. With some persuasion, she agreed once more.

We returned to the house. It wasn't a big house, but it had three rooms (perfect!) a semi-finished basement (awesome!) and a huge kitchen (fantastic!). The woman who owned the house said she would be willing to rent if my mother would give her a credit report and a reference from our current land lord.

This worried my mother. "I don't have good credit" she fretted. "Stella likes us and all, but we've been behind on rent so many times..."

Another week and we had the credit report and the reference in the mail to the woman who owned the house.

Stella, our current land lady, read the letter she sent as our reference over the phone to my mother. According to my mother, the reference was more than good. It was fantastic, better than we deserved, my mom claimed.

The next week, we were gone for a few days. My mother stayed home due to sickness so my sister and I went with my aunt and cousin to visit relatives in Illinois.

On our return, I asked my mom if she had heard anything.

"The woman called me..." She hesitated, looking to make sure my father was out of earshot, "she said she is going to be gone this week, on a trip..." She hesitated again, looking very solemn, I prepared myself for bad news, "but when she returns... She's going to.... Write up a lease..." She smiled.

Tears leapt to my eyes. At last. At last, we were so close, closer than we had ever dreamed of being! I hugged my mother, tears streaming silently down my face.

***

And, now, we are here. We await the return of the woman who owns the house. When she comes back, my mom will review the lease with her. Assuming all goes well, we should be moved in by May. I have hated the walls of this house for more than four years now. And I have longed to leave behind the man who is my biological father. I have held on for so long to just the idea, just the dream, just the small glimmer of hope, that it is hard for me to grasp the reality of this development.

We're just so close...