An update

So.....after sending the message to my Dad on Facebook Tuesday night about my ED and self-injury, I had a long and awkward talk with a doctor. He prescribed me antidepressants and referred me to a counselor. Fun times. Well, at least now they know, so I don't feel like I have to keep everything a secret anymore. I know I'll still hide things, but now I won't feel as compelled as I used to. Such a weight seems to have been lifted.

Confessions

I just wrote a letter to my Dad and sent it in a message on Facebook. In it, I explain all my ED and cutting issues. I'm so scared that he's going to look at me differently, be angry and hate me. I guess I'll know the outcome tomorrow.......So. Fucking. SCARED!!!

Bette Midler's 66th Birthday and other things

Well, yesterday was Bette Midler's birthday, and the sign of my ultimate failure. My goal was to lose 20lbs by December 1st..............I can't even fucking manage to do that. I'm so pathetic. I'm weak. Nothing.

The water is wide

The water is wide. I cannot get over, and neither have I wings to fly...

I loathe all I've become...

Does anybody?

Does anybody even notice? Does anybody even care?

Memories (song)

Written today, and finished a few minutes ago. Unlike most things, this was written with no particular person in mind.

Red and ebony black swirling in my mind
Waves from a stormy sea threaten to consume
I can feel that I’m running out of time
I know the end is coming soon

You left me here alone to die
Uncaring if I never breathe again
I won’t let go, I have to try
Struggling to the surface to feel the wind

These memories still haunt me
Your presence still torments me
Will I ever be set free
From these lingering memories?

These memories still call to me
I still see your face before me
Can anyone ever save me
From these everlasting memories?

My traitorous heart keeps me from feeling
I’m trapped in this eternal hell
A muted world, you can’t hear my screaming
Yet I hear the tolling of the bell

I search the mirror for a distant light
For something to save me from myself
All I see is the black of night
And the remains of my heart on an abandoned shelf

These memories still haunt me
Your presence still torments me
Will I ever be set free
From these lingering memories?

These memories still call to me
I still see your face before me
Can anyone ever save me
From these everlasting memories?

Don't You (song)

This was written the day after I saw Alan (my ex-fiance). Yes, I write from experience. Hope you enjoy.

It’s been so long, but I recognized your voice
I saw you again yesterday
Though it was always your choice
I never thought you would walk away

You didn’t notice me
I never dreamed it would hurt this way
I wonder, do you think of me?
All the memories came flooding back to me yesterday

Don’t you remember that you loved me?
Don’t you remember all of our plans?
Maybe I wasn’t what you wanted me to be
Maybe I just didn’t understand

Don’t you remember that you said forever?
Don’t you remember that you said until your dying day?
Tell the truth, it’s now or never
Don’t you remember the pain in my eyes yesterday?

With a heaviness in my heart
I turned away from you
Though we’ve both given new love a start
I can’t escape the hell you put me through

I’m through with looking back
You’ll no longer have this power over me
Dying as the past fades to black
Every now and then, please remember me

Writing and new music

As I said in my last entry, I've been writing quite a bit lately. I've also discovered a new artist (new to me, anyway) named Adele. I absolutely love her voice, mainly because it's so unique. I also love the fact that she is on the heavier side and she doesn't give a damn what people think about her. Anyway, for your reading enjoyment (of lack thereof), I'll post one of the songs I've written recently. The title? Ignite the Rain. The others I will post in separate entries, so as to keep this from being so long.


Held together by the shards of our past
Already spiraling toward the ground
Still the memories hold fast
There is no other way down

Unable to see the pain behind the smile
In front of you, I can’t cry
Drowning in this sea of denial
To say that I’m healing is a lie

The pieces of our lives rearrange
Find a way to numb the pain
We both know I will never change
Just watch as I ignite the rain

Longing to erase the past
Ghosts still calling my name
How long is this sorrow supposed to last
Watch as I ignite the rain

One day this pain will disappear
Living won’t hurt anymore
Though I’m screaming, you can’t hear
Run away from this, behind the secret door

I’m still a prisoner in my nightmares
My world is crashing all around me
Still I’m left alone, lost and scared
Still the scars crack and bleed

The pieces of our lives rearrange
Find a way to numb the pain
We both know I will never change
Just watch as I ignite the rain

Longing to erase the past
Ghosts still calling my name
How long is this sorrow supposed to last
Watch as I ignite the rain

Work and new music

I'm sorry I haven't written in awhile.  I've been working so much I haven't had time. Things are going great with me and Jace, and I bought the new Evanescence album yesterday. I've been writing quite a bit lately, and I feel like it's helped me sort out the things going on in my mind. By writing, I mean songwriting. Here is my latest creation:

Don’t leave me here
Tell me it was time well spent
I can see you there
Fading to black-evanescent

Don’t leave me here
Say there’s still a chance to repent
I can see you there
Disappearing now-evanescent

Believing in what I wanted to be true
Drowning in the ocean of my mind
 Trapped in the Hell you put me through
Wasting all this precious time

Lost in this tangled web of lies
You dare tell me you love me
Deception dancing behind your eyes
Knowing you will desert me

Don’t leave me here
Tell me it was time well spent
I can see you there
Fading to black-evanescent

Don’t leave me here
Say there’s still a chance to repent
I can see you there
Disappearing now-evanescent

Though I tried
I know I have failed you
Another part of my shattered heart dies
I was never enough for you

Screaming within, dying inside
Can you hear me?
Pull away from you to hide
Knowing you can never save me

Don’t leave me here
Tell me it was time well spent
I can see you there
Fading to black-evanescent

Don’t leave me here
Say there’s still a chance to repent
I can see you there
Disappearing now-evanescent

A simple update

Thursday was Joan Jett's 53rd birthday, and I have to work tomorrow from 05:00 to 15:30. Anyway, since nothing is really going on, I'll stop writing for now. I just wanted to give you all an update.

P.S. I lost another two pounds!

In your dreams

Open your eyes like I opened mine. It's only the real world, a life you will never know. Shifting your weight to thrown off the pain. Well, you can ignore it, but only for so long. I am finding out that maybe I was wrong. That I've fallen down, and I can't do this alone...It's been so long since I've heard a sound, the sound of my only hope. Well, this time, I will be listening.
I'm just a dreamer, a storyteller. I'm just at the other end of your night. I'm always in and out of your light. I'm right down the middle of all your dreams...In your dreams. ♥

Across The Sea (New Song)

This was written in about ten minutes, and it is my way of showing my support for all of our soldiers and their families. Thank you for serving our country and risking your lives every day. Chorus is in italics.


 Can you hear me?
Are you watching me as I write these words?
Can you feel my heart beat, my sanctuary?
Are you still with me even as time moves onward?

Do you think of me
The way I think of you?
As you fight this war across the sea
As you fight for all that is good and true

You need to know how much I love you
You need to know how much I care
I would give anything to be with you
But I know you are needed more there

Where are you now?
Are you safe and warm?
Come home to me somehow
Come back to me where you are safe from harm

I am a soldier’s angel, a soldier’s love
I will gladly wait for you forever
I know that God watches you from above
But this does little to make the pain better

Though you’re on the other side of the world
I know you have to fight for what you believe in
I will wait out this endless storm
And long for the day I will hold you in my arms again

You need to know how much I love you
You need to know how much I care
I would give anything to be with you
But I know you are needed more there

Where are you now?
Are you safe and warm?
Come home to me somehow
Come back to me where you are safe from harm

God, keep our men and women safe. God bless you all.

Never Again

30th August, 2011.

A year and twenty-one days since the storm. Not a storm of nature, but one much more dangerous. Though I'm not sure how, I survived. Now, not only am I alive, but I am also living again.

You'll never read this. You won't even see it. Never know it was written. In some ways, I am thankful. In others, a part of me wishes you would. Just so you would know.

09th January, 2010.

My world crashed and burned. You walked away from me when I needed you most. You left me to die, not caring that I probably would. It seems I was stronger than I realised
.
I still thought of you. Still loved you. I still wanted to feel your arms around me. To hear you say you loved me. I still needed you. I don't need you, and I don't even want you anymore. A part of me will always love you, but never again will I let it haunt me.

11th, December, 2010.

I was going to try again with someone new. Someone that was a great friend, and that truly cared about me. His parents, however, had other plans, and my own fell through. My hope was destroyed again.

I should have known better than to let myself hope that he would make your memory disappear. I still compared him to you, and while he was an  improvement, there were still things about you that I missed. I still dreamt of you, still woke shaking in the night, missing you.

 23rd, July, 2011.

It lasted two weeks. Exactly two weeks. He reminded me of you, in some ways, but in others, he was much worse. It was more than I could handle, so I ended it. We still talk, we're somewhat friends, and I don't regret my decision for a moment.

I never meant to hurt him, and seeing that brought back all the pain of what we had been through. All the pain I had caused you and maybe still do. I felt terrible for hurting him, but I had decided to follow my heart and do what was best for myself.
06th August, 2011.

I decided to give it another try. With someone else this time. He is sweet, supportive, and caring. He doesn't say much, and in that way, he''s like you were in the beginning. I hope that, like you, he'll open up to me more with time.

Things are moving slower than they used to, but I think this is what I need. Someone that understands and is willing to be with me in spite of everything. I need someone that will love me, just as I am. Someone that isn't afraid to stand up to me and tell me when I'm wrong, but that will support me when I'm right.

30th August, 2011.

A year and 21 days, and I'm still sober. I don't crave your touch, your lips, your voice like I used to. I'm no longer addicted to you. I know now that I can live without you.

While I'm battling other addictions, the one that I thought would haunt me forever is now gone. I will never be rid of the scars you left, but I am free. For the first time, I can stand on my own and not waver. Never again will I see you. Never again will I miss you. Never again will I kiss you. Never again will I want to. Never again will I love you. Never again.

Explanations

To anyone reading this, my only request is that you read with an open mind. I know for some of you, this may be difficult, but try. Have you ever looked at yourself and thought that you looked good? Have you ever thought that you deserved to be happy? Have you ever looked at yourself, seen what you truly are, and been pleased?

 For some of you, the answer is yes. Some may have never really considered it. For me, the answer is simple. No. I’ve looked at myself and thought that on some days I looked decent. I’ve never thought I deserved to be happy, and the reason for this is given in the answer to the last question. I’ve looked at myself, deeply and intently, and I hated what I saw. I know what I really am, and no, I’m not happy with it.

 What do I see? In the physical sense, I see the body that is too short; the thighs that are too huge, the wide hips, the small breasts, the face that I would love to destroy in the same way as I destroyed the mirror…by putting my fist through it. The only thing I even remotely like are my eyes. In another sense, I see the girl that is a perfectionist, never satisfied with her work, the one that longs for affection and praise, but always falls short (no pun intended), the girl that hates herself because she never has been, and never will be, good enough.

 So now I ask you, all of you: what do you see? Not when you look at me, but when you look at yourself. Someone once asked me, and not too long ago, why I couldn’t eat the cake I had at my party. I couldn’t tell them the truth, but I’m almost certain it was there in my eyes. I couldn’t tell them that I would rather swallow glass than have that delicious cake contaminate my body. To all of you that say this is a way of seeking attention, you couldn’t be more wrong.

Do I display the scars that I’ve created with the blade in my room? Do I walk around in skin-tight clothing, demanding that everyone admire me? No. I deliberately hide everything. The only ones who truly know why I’m this way are the others like me. And even they don’t completely understand. Every story is different, but the ending is the same regardless.

Relationships are almost impossible, and I’m not just talking about romantic ones. Those I am around every day have noticed my alienation, my distance, and those I am closest to will try to break through the walls every now and then. The one I am with in the romantic sense, however, is the one I feel most sorry for. How can I expect him to understand? How can I expect him to endure all the things that a relationship with me will put him through?

Should I even try? I don’t know. I will try, however, because when it’s all said and done, I am very selfish. I admit it. I want to be with someone, to have them hold me and tell me that everything will be okay. I want to be able to have someone kiss me and feel like I deserved to be loved. Is that so much to ask? In some ways, I suppose it is. Still, I’ll hold my tongue, keep my head high and smile through this painted mask of cheerfulness. And I’ll keep fighting until it is no longer a mask or a dream, but a reality.

Weak. Fat. Scars.

Well, as a result of my being so weak these past few days and binging, I now have two new words carved into my skin.

weak//fat

As a constant reminder of my failure, I have taken pictures of them. As if having them forever on my legs isn't enough. For my weak fatass, it may not be enough. Someone help me.

You left me here all alone to take matters into my own hands, and I just might burn in Hell.

Benefits, concerns, and other ramblings

Well, I'm currently dating Jace Newton (he works at Wal-Mart), and so far things are going good. I'm more comfortable around him than I was with Dustin, but I'm afraid that when he realises I have so many issues, he'll leave. I don't know if he'd be able to handle them. I'm so tired of having to worry about things like this, but I can't help it.

In other newss, I had a migraine for three days straight, went to the doctor, and he gave me pills to make it go away. Unfortunately, these pills are so addictive that I am only allowed three a week at most. Is he trying to make me worse? I haven't taken any yet, and I know I shouldn't, because I know how easy it is for me to become an addict. Even so, those little white pills are calling my name. God, help me.

Of Birthdays and such

Well, yesterday was Matt's 17th birthday, Kaleigh Jo's 14th birthday, and my 20th birthday. I had a planned binge to celebrate, but I couldn't even bring myself to go through with it. Next week, there's another charity benefit I'm singing at, and the next weekend is my Star Wars party. I've been working mandatory overtime for the past two weeks, and now we have to work from 09:00-13:00 today. It's only four hours, so it's not that bad, and I'm going to love it when I see my paycheck. My first paycheck was $666.58 and I hated that the numbers were 666. Oh well. In other news, Bits and Pieces is changing a bit, mainly the colour of Joan's hair. Since mine isn't black anymore, neither is Joan's. Luckily, her hair colour isn't that significant.

I'm going on another date with Jace tomorrow. If it doesn't rain, we're going to the park. Yes, the same park where Erin and I did promo shots. Speaking of Erin, she seems to not want to talk to me, and when she does, she seems annoyed with everything I say. Hopefully she's just tired and I haven't done something to piss her off. Anyway, since I have to get ready to leave, this is all I will write for now. Have a great day, my lovlies!

Voices

The voices inside my head are driving me mad. They always say the same thing, and they're beginning to sound like not only myself, but my friends, family and boyfriend. I wish they would just shut up.

stupid//fat//ugly//worthless//failure.

They whisper that I'm not good enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough, and that I never will be.  I can't shut them out, no matter how hard I try. When I take the blade across my skin, the sins of the day slowly drip away, making my body pure once more, and when I purge, through the pain and struggle, I know that it will bring bittersweet relief. yet still the voices torment me. They weave a tangled web of thorns that pierce my skin and pull me under. I cannot escape, and I'm afraid of falling into the depths of darkness completely.

Does anyone else feel this way, or am I completely losing it??

Of good break-ups and benefits

Well, Dustin and I are over. After a fight that started last night and carried over until 09:00, I decided to end it. I can't be with someone who doesn't accept me the way I am. In short, we had an argument about the karaoke benefit I'm singing at tonight. He said he'd go, then later said he didn't want to go. Okay, that's fine. Our conversation?

Me: If you don't want to go, just tell me, love.
Dustin: I mean, I don't want to go, but I want to see you.
Me: If you don't want to go, then don't go. It's your choice.
Dustin: ....gee, thanks.
Me: I can't make you go, and if you're going to be miserable, then there's no point. It may sound bitchy, but there's no other way to say it. I guess you're not going. I wanted you to, but okay.
Dustin: I stopped wanting to go when you said something bitchy with the excuse that there's no other way to say it.
Me: All I said was if you don't want to go, then don't go.
Dustin: Stop being so aggressive!
Me: If I say what I think, I'm being aggressive and I offend you.
Dustin: I'm more offended if you don't say what you think.
Me: Then I can't win for losing.
Dustin: So what do you want to do?
Me: I think we need to take some time to see if we can even be friends without killing each other.
Dustin: Okay.

I'm not sad about it. If he can't handle me the way I am, it's better to know now. I'm not going to censor myself for anyone. In other news, there's a karaoke benefit for a little boy who was diagnosed with cancer. I hope it goes well! Can't wait to break out my new microphone!

Birthdays, Amy Winehouse, Norway, and Dustin

Well, yesterday was Alison Krauss' 40th birthday and Neil Perry's (of The Band Perry) as well. Amy Winehouse died, and while I was never fond of her music, I do hope she has found peace at last. There was a terrible bombing in Norway and so many innocent lives were taken senselessly. It's so sickening. My thoughts and prayers go out to those who lost their lives and those left to carry on.

In uplifting news, Dustin and I are together now, and Richard (the singer in a band called OTE) has heard my demos and wants to record with me. It was scheduled for today, but seeinf as I am extremely tired and can't really afford the gas money right now, we've rescheduled it until next Sunday. I have another date with Dustin next Saturday, and I'll get paid from Subway, so things won't be quite as tight financially.As of right now, I have about $50 to my name. All because I had to pay my parents $260 for various things. Life is like a vaccum at times. It sucks.

Being poor sucks

So. I went to the bank today and checked my balance. -$55.00. All because I had to give my parents $260. That, sombined with the $60 a week for gas money, drained my account. So, after putting my check from Subway in the bank and applying my overdraft charges, I have $87 to last me the next two weeks. On a brighter note, I got the job at GSI. My last day at Subway is the 26th. Praise God!

Losing respect for some, gaining it for others

For those of you living in America, you've probably heard by now the verdict of the Casey Anthony murder trial. For those of you abroad, or those Americans who simply don't know about the case, I'll explain. This will be long, so if you stick with me, I thank you. If you know the details of the trial, feel free to skim. Of course, you can skim everything if you want. How am I going to know? Anyway, on with the trial.



This is two-year-old Caylee Marie Anthony, killed circa June 16, 2008.

The Casey Anthony trial (officially titled the State of Florida v. Casey Marie Anthony, 48-2008-CF-015606-O) was a criminal trial held in Orlando, Florida from May 9 to July 5, 2011 in the state's Ninth Judicial Circuit Court involving the death of two year old Caylee Marie Anthony. Caylee's mother, Casey Marie Anthony, was arrested on July 16, 2008 and indicted on charges of first degree murder on October 14, 2008. On April 13, 2009, prosecutors announced they would seek the death penalty. Anthony maintained that she was innocent and that the child died accidentally by drowning in the family swimming pool.

On July 5, 2011, Casey Anthony was found not guilty of first degree murder, aggravated manslaughter of a child, and aggravated child abuse. She was found guilty of four misdemeanor counts of providing false information to a law enforcement officer. On July 7, 2011, she was sentenced to one year in jail and $1,000 in fines for each count. With credit for time served and good behavior, her release date was set for July 17, 2011.

Job Interview

Well, if all goes well today, I will be leaving Subway. I have a job interview at GSI Commerce (the last place I worked), but this is a full-time position instead of just a seasonal position. If I get the job, I'll be working with my mother and a lot of my old friends. Sadly, Jonathen won't be there (I don't think), so it will be kind of bittersweet. However, it pays $9.25/hr. which beats $7.25/hr any day. If I get this job, I can be in Tennessee by the end of the year if I want. I've already decided that I'll wait until after Christmas though. I want to spend that with my family before I leave. Wish me luck!

Only 10 days until TBP concert, and 7 days until the last Harry Potter film is released. What will I do once there is no more HP to look forward to? The DVD release, of course. Also, the release of Breaking Dawn, Part 1 in November.

Again, if you're interested

Well, I've been busy lately, and for 51 hours of work, my paycheck this week amounted to a lousy $297.53. Fucking pathetic. The bank teller looked at my check like she thought it was a joke or something. Anyway, I've written a new song titled Don't Believe and I'll post it for anyone that is interested in reading it.

You’ve never had to struggle
With the things that I’ve found hard
You’ve never had to search
To find the light in the dark

Your eyes are captivating
But I don’t think you see
You’ll never understand
This isn’t how it was to be

I don’t believe in you
I don’t believe in anything you say
I don’t believe in you
But I believe you’ll knock down any in your way

I don’t believe in you
I don’t believe in what you said we would be
I don’t believe in you
And I know you don’t believe in me

You’re not good for me
But I didn’t listen when my mind said to run
I’m not good for you
We drag each other down and what we had is done

I’m breaking down
Falling apart slowly
You don’t even notice my pain
Not everything comes to you so easily

I don’t believe in you
I don’t believe in anything you say
I don’t believe in you
But I believe you’ll knock down any in your way

I don’t believe in you
I don’t believe in what you said we would be
I don’t believe in you
And I know you don’t believe in me

Also, here are the links to two more videos that I did a few weeks ago. Hope you enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5WYfCpZAVA  Joan Jett and the Blackhearts "I Hate Myself for Loving You"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7ZhTtw4j-E   Journey "Faithfully"

Bits and Pieces Update

Well, today was my one day off for the week, so Erin and I spent the day getting promo shots taken. Here's some of Bronwyn:

Believe it or not, this is a park building

Bloomfield Memorial Park
 
I love this lake

And of Joan:

Joan and her leather jacket

Yes, the pants are tight and hot. And they look tight and hot.

At a local park

Believe it or not, we drove (or rather I did) to these locations and shot these. The one of Joan in the cemetery is an actual cemetery (Ashley is buried there) and the park is right down the road from Erin's house. And yes, Erin is the one taking on the role of Bronwyn. Her wardrobe is mainly my clothes that we were able to throw together to create Bronwyn's look. We wanted her to be more obviously feminine than Joan, and I believe it works rather well. Joan's wardrobe is made up of my own clothing.

Needless to say, my wardrobe for Joan caused me to recieve a lot of strange looks from the people we ran across. Stephen Tichenor (whom I refer to by surname mainly) has said that he'll more than likely take on the role of Scott, which made me want to kiss him, regardless of the fact that it's in the script anyway. Of course, I'd kiss Tichenor anyway (he's very attractive for a blonde, and has a great sense of humour).

Things are slowly coming together. I'll keep you updated.

And, this has nothing to do with B&P, but I'm going to see The Band Perry in concert on 18th July. Can't wait!

As if my life needed to be worse

Someone broke into my car Saturday night. Although, since Samantha's dumbass left the passenger door unlocked, I guess you can't  really call it breaking in. The point is, my CD's are gone. As well as my iPod. Now, the iPod...I don't really care about. I didn't use it that much anyway. But my CD's.....there were over 500....gone. They could have taken anything in the car, but instead they chose the one thing that gives my life meaning. My music.

Samantha said she would replace the iPod, but as I said, I don't give a fuck about the iPod. I just want my fucking CD's replaced. How damn hard is it to lock the fucking door?? I've never gotten out of a car and left the door unlocked unless it was in my garage. Those CD's meant everything to me. Everything. They didn't mean anything to anyone but me. As of July 19th, I'm done. I give up. I can't take it anymore.

Relentless

I will stumble. I will fall down, but I will not be moved. Today, I'm buying more diet pills, and if I eat anything at all big, it will be a pretzel at work. I won't fail today. I can't. If that were to happen, I don't know what I'd do.

In other news, Bits and Pieces has been cast with one exception. I'm still waiting for an answer from Stephen Tichenor, the guy I want for Scott, but hopefully I'll hear something positive soon. I've gotten all the other characters cast, and will be finishing up the promo shots soon. I already have some of Joan, so all that's left is a few of Joan and her famous leather jacket, and Bronwyn/Scott. Can't wait! Will keep you posted. Here's one of the promo shots of Joan:

Inner torments

Every morning, I wake up and wonder if I should waste my time getting up and going to work. I've taken up drumming again, but it's a bit more difficult since I no longer have my drums. I've been banging on everything in the house though to compensate. Of course, my drums sold for $300 and went to pay for groceries and the house payment, but I still wish it hadn't had to be done.

The benefit performance didn't happen this past weekend as planned due to malfunctioning equipment, so that was devastating. The dream I had last night was horrifying and I woke screaming, much to the terror of my poor little puppies, but I don't know what to make of it. See what you make of it:

My fingers were sprawled against the keys of the piano, placed against the ivory with ease. I didn't know what I was to play, but I tried to oblige my thoughts to come out of hiding, at least for the sake of attempting. As I pressed down on the keys, I heard no sound spilling out from beneath them. Surely I knew how to play the piano, did I not? I knew I did. But I heard nothing. I shook my head, fueling a whirlwind of torrents that weren't musical and weren't comforting. I felt my fingers grasp a pen, pressing the tip generously against the paper. Yet, the tip was never moving, and my fingers grew numb, just like the thoughts and their activity in my head. My head began to pulse, and throb, and with that, my fingers crashed against the keys and I scribbled aimlessly against the piece, drawing internal organs and hate mixed with solace and happiness and beauty.

I could only think of nothing; only soundless nothingness. Lights seared through the whirlwind, with tires spinning, and smoke rising against hot concrete. Heat spewed within and fingers clutched the air, trying to grasp nothing if it was possible by any means. Did pain not make any sound now? Surely it had before. Surely before I could give it a soundtrack and now the inspiration had run dry, and I was running dry from the inside out because all I could feel was pain, and everything was with no sound. I tried to scream in the muted world, if only I could hear myself. My fingers slid against the keys as I descended to the floor, laying myself down in oblivion…

Even if you don't reply

Well, as some of you may have noticed (or not noticed as the case may be), I haven't been online as much. This is mainly due to my own feelings of worthlessness and not belonging here. It seems to be that even when fasting and restricting, I'm not losing any weight, and in some instances have even gained. I'm hoping that by returning, I will gain the support I've been needing. I am not asking for tips on how to break the plateau, and I'm not asking for anyone to tell me that I need to stop what I'm doing. I just need to talk to people who understand this feeling and will be able to respond without judgement. Even if you don't reply, thanks for reading this.

Burning bridges

I'm working on letting go. I'm trying to move on. I'll still listen to the CD of songs that are for him, but in the end, they don't have to relate to him. They're just songs. I will move on, and I will find someone else. I'll find love again, and it doesn't have to be soon. Even if I don't find someone, even if I'm not meant to love again, if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free. He won't hold me down, and someday he will find that he made a mistake.

Light the past up in flames.

Moving on.....or not?

Is it possible to never move on or recover from something? I still think of him, still miss him, still love him. Every time someone says the name "Alan", it kills me. I can't say it out loud, can't stand to hear it. Thinking about him still brings me to tears. He's been gone for a year and five months. He doesn't think of me, doesn't want anything to do with me. He hates me. Sometimes I wonder if he ever really loved me. I have to believe that he did, or that he at least thought he did, otherwise I don't think I could handle this at all. It's hard enough to handle as is.

I always told myself I wouldn't be one of those girls who got all upset over a guy. But love changes you. I let my walls down. I let him in. I trusted him. That was my mistake. It's one I'll never make again. I'll never let someone have that power, that control over me. Never.

This is fucking ridiculous

This week's supposed  work schedule:

• Monday: 12-4
• Tuesday: 10-4
• Wednesday: Off
• Thursday: Off
• Friday: 12-4
• Saturday: 10-4
• Sunday: Off

This week's actual schedule:

• Monday: 12-4
• Tuesday: 10-4
• Wednesday: Off
• Thursday: 5-10
• Friday: 12-4
• Saturday: 10-4
• Sunday: 5-10

Normally, this wouldn't bother me. However, this week, we have had two high school graduations, and all the soccer tournaments are taking place. I'm so tired and my feet are killing me so badly that I haven't slept in my bed in a week because I can't make it up the stairs. I barely managed to be able to stand long enough to shower. My hair is still wet because I couldn't stand long enough to blow it dry and I can't  do it properly sitting down. When I flat-iron it though, I'm definitely sitting down.

One day off, barely eating, and being so fucking busy at work that half the time I couldn't tell you my head from my ass is really beginning to catch up with me. At least I'm off next Saturday for the benefit concert. And, I've had to up my song list, because they extended my set to a full hour.

Bonnie (the manager of Subway) bitched at me all day yesterday because she had to be at work on her day off because Randall called in when there was nothing to prevent him from working except laziness, so she was in a bad mood. Unfortunately, I seem to be her favourite target, and she hasn't liked me since day one. She thinks that just because I'm nineteen, I don't know anything and I have to be spoken to like I'm five. I fucking hate that. I may be young, but I'm not a fucking moron, and I'm more mature than most people twice my age. It will all be worth it in the end though, so I hold my tongue (a huge struggle for me) and I go about my day. Fucking bitch.

Gyms, and such

So, today I decided I'm going to join a gym. I've wanted to for years, but now I actually have a steady job, and so I can afford it. I've been working on the script for Bits and Pieces and hopefully I'll have it completed soon. The benefit is slowly approaching, and the song lisr is as follows:

• "Lie Awake"--Alison Krauss and Union Station
• "I Hate Myself For Loving You"--Joan Jett
• "Never Saw Blue"--Hayley Westenra
• "Faithfully"--Journey

For anyone interested

You have all heard me talk of performing. Well, for anyone who is interested, here is a link to one of my performances on YouTube. The rest of the videos can be found from there.



Now, I realise they aren't the best performances, but in my defense, I had just gotten off from work, drove for an hour, and had very little room to move. I'm going to record the benefit concert performances as well, and hopefully I will have a tripod for the camera (Samantha, I love you, but your camera work sucked). The concert will also be outside (weather permitting), which makes the sound quality better.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG8RwYvf6Hc

New laptop, 100 posts, and BaP news!

What a milestone. The 100th post on my blog happened to coincide with my buying a new laptop. Yes, my dear readers, I have reached 100 posts. Of course, it's not that big of a deal really, but it was fun to pretend for a moment. In other news, the big charity benefit concert is approaching (11th June) and I can't wait! Radio DJ's are attending as well as news crews, and we always raise a fair amount of money.

I've gotten a camera operator, props and blood for the Bits and Pieces short film, and as soon as the script is completed (shouldn't be too long from now), the cast and I are going to get together to run through it. I can't wait!

Bits and Pieces (Complete Version)

Well, my lovelies, here it is. The completed version of "Bits and Pieces". Hope you enjoy. Note: This may be made into a short film if I am able to find cast members willing to cooperate. The girl I want for Bronwyn is a bit uncomfortable with the bisexual aspect of the story, and I don't have anyone for Scott or the nameless man with Joan.

As the answering machine played back the messages she had received, the young blonde woman gasped. She knew that low raspy voice, though she hadn't heard it in years. They had been best friends, closer than sisters, but when they had gotten into a huge argument, all of that had collapsed. So why was she calling her now?
"Hey, Bronnie. I know we haven't spoken in awhile, but I need to talk to you. Call me back, okay? Thanks."
Joanie. Her Joanie. She knew everyone else called her "Joan" now, but to Bronwyn, she would always be Joanie, just as she would always be "Bronnie". The message ended, and a small click signalled the beginning of a new one. Joan again. But something was different about this message. There was something in her voice that wasn't quite right.
"Bronnie, please. I'm not screwing around, this is important. Call me back. Please."
She sounded almost desperate. Something was definitely wrong, yet Bronwyn couldn't bring herself to pick up the phone.
"Bronwyn, come on, man, pick up the damn phone. You can go back to hating me later, but please. I need to talk to you. You're the only one I've got."
How could she be the only person Joan had? Joan was surrounded by people every day at her job, and Bronwyn was sure that she had a crowd of friends to talk to. Still, she worried. Should she call Joan, or wait and see if she called again? Opting for the second choice, Bronwyn sat in a chair and let her mind take her back to the days when she and Joan had been inseparable.

The woman may have been tiny and short, but Bronwyn was instantly intimidated by her. Her short dark hair, coupled with a leather jacket only added to her fear. The woman made her way over to her and Bronwyn braced herself for a cold remark.
"Hi," was all she said, her voice low and somewhat raspy.
"Hi," Bronwyn answered.
"I'm Joan," her hand was outstretched and Bronwyn took it.
"Bronwyn."
She was amazed that the woman hadn't hit her. She seemed to radiate toughness, and Bronwyn fought the urge to step back.
"Bronwyn, huh? That's an interesting name. I like it."
She smiled, and Joan returned it. As she saw Joan's beautiful smile, she was amazed at how much it changed her. The tough girl became a striking young woman, and it was nothing short of mesmerising.

Bronwyn closed the door of her refrigerator and sighed. It had been almost eight hours since Joan's last phone call, and she found herself becoming more worried with each minute. Again she debated on whether she should call her friend back or simply wait for another call. Joan could have been drunk when she made the calls, she reasoned. After all, Joan was known for drinking heavily when she was depressed. However, she hadn't sounded drunk at all. She had sounded completely sober, and that worried her most of all.
Her phone rang again, and Bronwyn jumped, startled. She made a mad dash for the phone and answered breathlessly.
"Hello?"
"Hey," came a voice on the other end.
"Oh. Hi, Tessa."
"Well, don't you sound happy to talk to me…"
Tessa's voice was dripping sarcasm.
"Sorry. I thought you were Joan."
"Joan? As in Joan Esten? Why would she call? You haven't talked to her in what…ten years?"
"I know, but she called me and she sounded bad," Bronwyn explained.
"Hmm…I wonder how drunk she was."
"She wasn't. She sounded sober."
"Wow…Joan never calls anyone unless she's in really deep shit, and even then, someone else usually has to call on her behalf."
"I know, but I'll talk to you later, okay? I want to make sure I don't miss her call."
As the friends said their goodbyes, Bronwyn found her mind wandering once again to the past, and as her mind locked on a particular memory, she blushed.
"I miss you, Joanie…" she whispered.

The smoke from the fireplace was thick, creating an almost eerie haze in the room. The television was on, but neither of them were paying it any attention. Joan was in the kitchen of their shared apartment, swearing every so often as she tried to cook a meal without destroying it.
"Do you need some help?" Bronwyn asked, her eyebrows raised in amusement as she watched the older woman.
"No," was Joan's muffled reply.
She stood back from the refrigerator, a bottle of rum in her slender hand, and smiled wickedly.
"I've got all I need right here."
She took a drink from the bottle and held it out to Bronwyn. She took it and hesitantly took a small sip. The liquid burned as it went down, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. Joan sat down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her.
"Come on, Bronnie. Sit down."
Sighing, Bronwyn lowered herself onto the couch, and flinched as Joan put an arm around her shoulder. Joan wasn't an outwardly affectionate person, so this action was a bit startling to the blonde woman.
"I'm worried about you, Joanie."
"Why?"
"You've been distant lately. You don't ramble like you used to."
"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Sorry if I've shut you out."
Bronwyn looked up at her, admiring the way the light reflected off Joan's hair, giving her eyes an almost frightening glow, and before she knew what she was doing, she leaned up and kissed her. Joan froze, and when Bronwyn pulled back, she simply looked at her, unsure of what to say.
"I…I'm sorry, Joan. I don't know what came over me."
Much to her surprise, Joan smiled.
"Don't worry about it, Bronnie."
This time it was Joan who leaned down and brushed her lips against Bronwyn's, a small smirk on her lips.
"However, if this goes any farther, you'd better worry. This ends now. Got it?" Joan warned.
Bronwyn nodded, surprise still evident on her face, and she wondered where this would lead them.
It had led them nowhere, but even now, Bronwyn still found it difficult to think of Joan without recalling that night. After all, how was she supposed to remember the woman who had become such a strong sexual attraction for her? With all the men and women Joan had been with, Bronwyn had to wonder if maybe there was something about her that wasn't enough for her friend. She had tried not to let her growing affection and attraction show, but when she watched Joan with a man or another woman, she had to bite her tongue (sometimes literally) to keep from screaming.
She thought back to the night when Joan had finally had enough and walked out of her life, and wondered if there was anything she could have done differently. Taking a drink of her glass of water, she threw back a handful of pills, hoping they would save her from this intense reawakening of her memory. Bronwyn smiled sadly to herself, knowing that her drug addiction had been one of the things Joan had been unable to handle.
Joan had problems of her own, ranging from depression, self injury and eating disorders to an almost overwhelming tendency to be excitable. She was passionate about music, though by her own admission she would never be able to play an instrument well enough to perform and relied on her voice, she loved to write, whether in her journal or one of her many stories. Bronwyn had loved hearing her stories. She didn't enjoy reading them as much as she loved hearing Joan read them aloud. Joan's voice painted thrilling pictures in her mind, and gave life to the things her imagination created.
Watching Joan struggle through her problems had been almost unbearable for Bronwyn. She never complained, never let her pain show and spent all of her time trying to help anyone she could, regardless of what it cost her.
Bronwyn paced the room, swearing loudly when she hit the small table that her glass was resting on. As if in slow motion, she watched the glass fall and shatter, the sound magnified in the silence. The pills were beginning to take effect, she realised, and she suddenly regretted taking them. Her mind drifted again, and Joan's voice was so clear in her memory that she could have sworn she was standing in the room.

"Bronwyn, I thought you were going to stop. You said you were going to stop!"
Bronwyn jerked at the coldness in Joan's voice and raised her eyes to the dark-haired woman.
"I'm trying, Joanie…" she said softly.
Joan shook her head.
"No, you're not. If you were trying, I wouldn't have to be saying this. And my name is Joan!"
"Okay, Joan," she spat the name viscously, uncaring that she sounded like a bitter child, "what about you? You harm yourself day after day, you starve yourself and work yourself to death. You haven't been trying to stop any of your destructive habits!"
"How dare you?" Joan whispered dangerously, "Do you not understand that I've been trying for years to stop? It's not that easy, but at least I'm trying."
"You're not trying hard enough then. At least when I decide to try, I won't half-ass it!"
Her vision swam and the floor rushed up to her. She braced herself for the impact, but found herself unexpectedly wrapped in Joan's arms. Sighing, Joan easily lifted the younger woman and sat down on the couch. Bronwyn's head was resting in her lap and she gently ran her hand over the blonde woman's hair.
Bronwyn moaned and her eyes opened slowly, her gaze hazy. As her eyes focused on Joan's face, she was able to make out her sad expression.
"Joanie?"
Joan looked down at her, not bothering to reprimand her use of the nickname, and sighed sadly.
"Bronnie…I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you destroy yourself knowing that you aren't even trying to save yourself."
The defeat and weariness in her voice scared Bronwyn more than anything. She would have preferred screaming, hatred, anything to the look that Joan gave her now.
"Joanie?"
Joan lifted Bronwyn's head from her lap and stood, making her way to the door.
"Joan. Wait."
Joan turned, her pale hand on the door, an expectant look on her face.
"I'm sorry," Bronwyn murmured, aware of how foolish she sounded.
Joan nodded.
"I know, but I can't stay. I won't sit here and watch you die anymore. I love you, Bronwyn, but I'm sorry."
She opened the door and walked out without even a single glance behind her. Bronwyn stared at the place where she had stood, her mind unable to comprehend that her best friend was truly gone. She didn't know how long she stayed that way, only that some time afterward she sank to the floor and let her tears flow freely.

The ringing of the phone jolted her out of her memory and she made her way over to the phone, stumbling and nearly falling along the way.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice slightly slurred.
"Bronwyn?"
"Umm…yeah?"
"It's me. Joan."
"Oh! Hi, Joanie!" she exclaimed, her mood suddenly elevated.
On her end of the line, Joan sighed. She knew that tone.
"You're stoned." It wasn't a question, and Joan couldn't keep her sadness and disappointment from her voice.
"Uh…no?"
Joan knew that there would be no way of talking rationally to her so she decided to wait.
"Bronwyn, I'll talk to you later."
Without waiting for an answer, Joan hung up. Why was it that when she needed her, Bronwyn was stoned? She opened her nearly bare refrigerator and took out the half-empty bottle of rum and took a drink. Sighing, she surveyed the contents of her refrigerator. The rum bottle was now in her hand, leaving only a bottle of wine that had yet to be opened, a container of yogurt and a carton of eggs. She made a mental note to pick up another carton of eggs the next day, and made her way slowly to her bare living room. She felt her legs give way and she collapsed on her couch, being careful not to spill her drink. She thought back to the first few months after she had left the apartment she had shared with Bronwyn. All the sleepless nights spent drinking, sleeping with random men and women, the downward spiral that seemed endless.
Things had finally began to improve, but now after months of stressful work hours, the dizziness that left her with no other choice but to admit that she was in way over her head, and the lack of money in her bank account despite her work schedule had forced her to call on the one person who she had thought she could rely on. She had thought that Bronwyn would have cleaned up her act after she left, but apparently she was wrong. With one final drink of rum, she set the bottle down on the table and closed her eyes, falling into a restless sleep.


Bronwyn woke up with her head pounding. She raised up groggily, and saw her phone laying on the floor next to her. She dimly remembered her phone ringing, but who had been on the other end? Had it been Tessa? She couldn't remember. Her head was spinning and noticed the light blinking on her answering machine. Joan! She rushed to it, and pressed the button. The machine clicked on and there was a moments silence.
"Hey, man, whenever you decide to sober up, give me a call. It's important."
Confusion clouded her mind. It was Joan, no mistaking that voice, but how had she known? The nights events were blurred, and she realised that it had been Joan that she'd spoken to last night before passing out. Shame coloured her face as she realised how disappointed Joan must have been. The message had been from this morning, she saw, and wondered if there was a possibility that she might still catch her. Taking her chances, she dialled the number she knew by heart and waited.
Just as she was about to hang up, the ringing stopped, and Bronwyn was suddenly overcome by speechlessness.
"Hello?" a man's voice answered.
Bronwyn was confused. Had she dialled the wrong number?
"Is Joan there?"
"No. She's not. She's gone out," the man replied coldly.
"Who is it?" came Joan's voice faintly.
Bronwyn's heart stopped. Joan's voice was unmistakable, she was there, so why wouldn't this man hand the phone over?
"Well, this is Bronwyn. Could you tell her I called?"
"When I want her to call you, I'll tell her." Joan's voice rose in the background.
"Who is it? Give me the phone."
A faint cracking sound was heard, and Bronwyn knew that Joan had been slapped. She jerked herself, and found tears forming in her eyes. Now she knew why Joan had called her. She just wished she had called sooner. The phone clicked in her ear and she knew that the phone had been hung up. She felt her tears spilling over and decided to wait for a few minutes before calling Joan back again. She just hoped it wouldn't be too late.


Joan raised her head as she heard her phone ringing, but couldn't bring herself to move from her position on the floor. She knew she was alone, but for how much longer, she couldn't be sure.
"Hey, this is Joan. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message. If the machine cuts you off, take it's advice and talk less."
The voice of her best friend filled the silence in her apartment and Joan crawled to her phone.
"Joan, it's Bronwyn. I'm returning your call, but I guess-"
"Bronnie?" Joan's voice was strained as she answered.
"Joan! Are you okay? What's wrong? I tried to call you earlier, but-"
"Bronnie…slow down," Joan advised, a hint of amusement in her voice, "I'm fine. Are you sober enough to talk to me tonight?"
"That's not funny, Joan. Who was that man that answered your phone?"
"He's no one," Joan cringed as she realised that Bronwyn had been able to hear everything from that morning. "Don't worry about it. Do you think you could meet me somewhere in about an hour?"
Bronwyn nodded even though Joan couldn't see her.
"Of course, Joanie. Where?"
"Anywhere. Someplace with a crowd of people."
Bronwyn thought for a moment.
"Well, do you still work at that little coffee shop in town?"
Joan laughed bitterly.
"Work at it? I'm the owner and manager."
"Could we meet there?"
"Sure," Joan agreed, "I'll be there. And Bronnie?"
Bronwyn waited.
"Thanks."
Bronwyn smiled softly.
"No problem."


When Bronwyn arrived at the small coffee shop, she scanned the crowd for Joan. After searching for several minutes, she finally approached the young man behind the counter. He flashed her a quick smile before asking if he could help her.
"Yes, I was wondering if Joan Esten has been in today?"
He thought for a moment then shook his head.
"No, ma'am. I haven't seen her today. It's her day off, so you might try her at home."
"I spoke with her an hour ago and she was supposed to meet me here."
The young man smiled again.
"Perhaps she's just running late," he suggested, "Can I get you anything while you wait?"
Bronwyn shook her head.
"No, thank you. I'll just sit here for a bit."
"Okay, well if there's anything I can do, just ask."
Bronwyn returned his smile and made her way to the only vacant table available. Joan definitely knew how to draw a crowd, she saw, and she knew how to choose employees. She pulled her chair closer to the table and rested her arms on the smooth surface. She trained her gaze on the door, waiting for the tiny woman to appear in the doorway.
It always amazed her that such a small woman could be so tough and fill an entire room with her presence, yet be so vulnerable at the same time. She recalled one night when she had awoken to Joan's screaming. She had run to Joan's room to find her sitting up in bed, gasping for breath, an expression on her face that she had seen only a few times before. It was as if Joan had wanted to cry, but refused to allow herself and resorted to anger instead. Though she had been afraid for her friend, Bronwyn always appreciated that moment of vulnerability that she had seen. It had reminded her that although Joan seemed as if nothing could hurt her, she wasn't as invincible as she liked people to think.
Bronwyn glanced at her watch and saw that almost half an hour had passed since she had arrived. It wasn't like Joan to be late. Ever. If anything, Joan was nearly always early for everything. One of her biggest annoyances was when people showed up late for something, or worse, not at all. Bronwyn was beginning to worry. She stood abruptly and approached the counter again, the same young man as before smiling at her again.
"Can I help you again, ma'am?" he said with a laugh.
"I know you can't give me her address, but I was wondering if perhaps you could call Joan for me? I'm starting to get worried. Joan is never late for anything."
He gave her an uncertain look, but soon brightened.
"My shift is over in twenty minutes. If you'd like, I can give you a ride," he offered.
Bronwyn nodded gratefully, relief clear on her face.
"Thank you so much. That would help me out a lot."


Joan's head was throbbing viciously, and she shakily raised up from her position on the floor. She was pulled to her feet by her hair and as the raised hand was prepared to strike, the knock on the door made them both freeze. She was thrown behind the couch and soon he leaned over her, his face inches from her own.
"Don't move. Don't make a fucking sound," he whispered.
Joan would have told him to fuck off had she been able to speak, but settled on a glare instead. He answered the door and she could hear him easily speaking to the person on the other side.
"She was supposed to meet me an hour ago."
Joan's breath caught. Bronwyn! She had to warn her. She stood slowly, deliberately, and willed Bronwyn to look at her. With dread filling her, she also recognised Scott, her young employee. Still she tried to attract Bronwyn's attention. When their eyes met, Bronwyn's widened in terror, and Joan knew that he had seen. She ducked down quickly, but not quickly enough. Her movement was caught by his well-trained eyes, and he slammed the door in Bronwyn's face, turned the lock and strode to her. She was pulled up painfully by the arm and dragged down the hallway to the small closet. After being thrown to the floor, she heard the lock turn on the door, and she could feel her anxiety growing. Her breathing quickened, and she knew she couldn't stand it much longer. Uncaring if anyone heard, she began to scream as loudly as her strained vocal chords would allow. Somehow, she knew that no one would be coming to save her.
On the other side of the door, Bronwyn and Scott stood frozen in fear. They could hear Joan's screaming, and pounded frantically on the door. Bronwyn knew that Joan was claustrophobic and knew they had to act fast. Her screams were heartbreaking, tortured, and scared, and Bronwyn could hear Joan's own pounding of whatever room she was being held in. Scott's terrified eyes found hers and together they seemed to come up with the same solution. Pulling out his phone, Scott ran to the other end of the hall, calling over his shoulder.
"I'm calling the police!"
Bronwyn prayed that by the time they arrived, it wouldn't be too late.
Joan's voice was becoming hoarse, but still she kept screaming. She could feel blood running down her hand, but she didn't care. She had to get out of this room. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, and she fought to keep her fear from growing. She had been locked in here before, but never for this long, and Joan knew if she didn't get out soon, she was going to die.
She slipped on a fallen jacket and landed on her back.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Standing up again, she resumed pounding on the door and screaming. She would have preferred abuse, threats, death, anything but being trapped in this small space. He knew she couldn't handle small dark areas, and she knew this was some sick way of amusing himself.
'YOU BASTARD!" she screamed, "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"
Her cries were in vain, but she was determined to let him know that he couldn't defeat her. She wasn't sure how much longer she could handle this though, so she prayed that she would be released soon.
Scott returned fifteen minutes later, closely followed by three men in uniforms. When they reached Bronwyn standing outside Joan's door, the officer's eyes were wide.
"How long has this been going on?"
"About half an hour. Maybe longer," Bronwyn answered, "She's locked in a room somewhere, but we can't get in."
"How do you know she's locked in a room?"
"Because I know Joan. She only freaks out like that if she's in a small space and can't get out."
The officer nodded, and raised his fist, pounding in the door.
"Police! Open the door!"
Bronwyn was thrown aside as the door flew open and the man she had seen with Joan pushed past, making a mad dash for the stairs. Two of the three police officers ran after him, while the other looked to Bronwyn and Scott. Joan's screams and sobs could still be heard, and as the remaining officer stepped inside, he held Bronwyn back.
"Stay out here. I'm going to go help your friend."
The screaming suddenly stopped and Scott and Bronwyn exchanged worried glances. Footsteps approached swiftly and Bronwyn found her view obstructed as Joan crashed into her, hugging her fiercely. When she released her, Joan leapt on Scott, hugging him as well. Scott looked slightly startled and amused at the same time. He smoothed Joan's hair back gently and she kissed him on the cheek softly. Turning back to Bronwyn, Joan smiled sadly.
"I'm sorry I was late," she whispered.
"Oh, Joanie," Bronwyn exclaimed, her voice breaking slightly, "It's nothing! I'm just happy you're okay."
She wrapped her arms around her and Joan rested her head on her shoulder. Bronwyn felt something hit her shoulder and when she pulled away to look at her friend, she saw tears in Joan's eyes. Scott came up behind Joan and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned and found him looking at her with an almost scared expression.
"I hope you don't mind that I drove her here. I couldn't give her your address, but since I knew it, I offered her a ride."
Joan threw herself at him again and when she pulled back, there was a small smirk on her face. Scott looked confused for a moment, then winced as Joan's hand connected with the back of his head.
"You dumbass."
Scott laughed and he put his arm around her shoulder. When Bronwyn did the same on her other side, Joan leaned over and kissed her softly before turning to Scott and repeating the action. Scott had the decency to look embarrassed, but Bronwyn knew he had enjoyed it. How could anyone not love kissing Joan? Joan was oblivious to the effect this had had on the pair, and she returned to her apartment to prepare for her testimony that she had to give to the officer still waiting for her.


Two hours and four glasses of rum later, Joan and Bronwyn were sitting on the couch with Scott in the kitchen trying to find something worth eating.
"Dammit, Joan, don't you have any food in here?"
Joan laughed.
"Nope. Just yogurt and booze. Sorry, Scott."
"And eggs," Bronwyn added.
Scott returned to the living room and sat on Joan's other side, gazing at Joan fondly. Joan, who was staring off at something only she could see, didn't notice and only looked around when she felt the couch shift under his weight as he slid closer to her. Bronwyn noticed this however, and struggled to keep her face neutral. How dare he look at her Joanie that way? Who was she kidding? Joan didn't belong to her. Joan belonged to nobody but Joan and it would always be that way.
Even when Joan was in a relationship, she was still her own person, and anyone who couldn't accept her as she was soon found themselves being kicked out. Bronwyn had to admit, she admired Joan when it came to relationships. She gave them everything she had and wasn't the type to be with someone if she didn't believe it would work. Although, as Bronwyn had discovered recently, that hadn't always been the case. Joan had confided in her about her many one-night stands in the early months following their argument. She had been shocked, but in a way it had made perfect sense.
A loud thud caused her to jump and when she looked around, she saw Joan laughing. At first she wasn't sure what her friend was laughing at, then she saw Scott sprawled on the floor, an embarrassed look on his face.
"How did you manage to end up there?" Joan asked, trying to control her laughter.
Bronwyn thought she knew the reason. In his attempt to be closer to Joan, he had slid from the couch to the floor. Judging by his stammered response, Bronwyn knew she was right. Joan held her hand out to help him up, and let out a shriek when she was pulled to the floor. Still laughing, she reached up and pulled Bronwyn to the floor with them. Despite the events of the day and the love struck expression on Scott's face, Bronwyn found that she was enjoying herself. Being with Joan again was enough. She had missed this.


Joan was jolted from her sleep when her door was thrown open with such force that it slammed against the wall and rebounded. She blinked in a daze, and struggled to focus. The dark form standing over her caused her pulse to race, and though she wanted to, she couldn't scream. His hand over her mouth prevented her from making any sound, and even as she thought of biting down on his hand, she knew he had seen the thought in her eyes.
His hand moved from her mouth to her throat and she began to struggle. His free hand was raised, and Joan closed her eyes tightly, already knowing what was coming. Blow after blow rained down on her and as blackness began to dance at the edge of her vision, Joan dimly wondered what would happen if she simply didn't wake up this time. She was scared to find that she didn't care.


The door to the coffee shop opened, and as always when he heard the bell, Scott glanced up.
"Holy fucking shit," he whispered, his eyes wide.
He quickly moved from his place behind the counter and stood in front of his boss. Joan shot him a glare and moved past him.
"Joan, are you okay?"
She nodded once.
"I'm fine," she said shortly, "Now go find something to clean."
"Okay," he answered confusedly.
It wasn't like Joan to give orders so sharply, and her dishevelled appearance alarmed him. Still, she was his boss, so he did as she asked. As he watched her, he noticed that she walked rather slowly, a contrast to her normally fast stride, and she was fidgeting with her necklace. He had seen the long silver necklace before, a small bird and rose rested on a tiny circular clock, but he knew that Joan loved it and normally kept it hidden under her shirt unless she was checking the time.
As he was wiping down the counter, he heard something hit the floor and Joan swore softly. Setting his towel down, he walked in the back storeroom and found his boss kneeling on the floor sweeping up bits of glass. He knelt down next to her.
"Here, let me help you with that."
"I can handle it," Joan snapped, "Go finish what you were doing."
As she reached to pick up a larger piece of glass, Scott noticed that her hands were shaking. Wanting to help, but not wanting her to be upset, he gently placed his hands over hers. She looked up at him with an unreadable expression, but didn't pull away.
"Joan…let me help you."
Sighing, Joan allowed him to take the glass from her hand, and simply sat silently while he went to locate the broom. When he retuned, she knelt with the dustpan as he swept up the broken pieces. After the glass had been swept, Joan made her way to the nearest trash bin and as she tipped over the dustpan, it slipped from her hand and fell into the bin.
"Dammit," she muttered.
"Joan? Maybe you should take the day off," he suggested.
The answering glare she threw at him was enough to make him step back. The ringing of the bell signalled a customer, and Joan stepped behind the counter, a smile painted on her face.
"Hi, can I help you?"
"Yes, I'd like-" the woman stopped as her eyes rested on Joan, taking in the paleness, bruises and dark circles. Joan didn't notice however, and smiled again. "Yes?"
"I'd like a French vanilla cappuccino with whipped cream," the woman continued.
"Of course," Joan answered cheerfully, "I'll bring it right over when it's ready."
The woman nodded and handed her money over, without waiting for her change.
Scott glanced at his boss as she worked, and noticed that her hands were shaking worse than ever. He fought the urge to tell her to leave and knew that if he did, she would fire him, concerned or not. The bell chimed again, and a young man entered, stepping up to the counter. Scott made his way over, but was too late. Joan pointed to the cup behind her.
"I've got him, you go take this to the young woman over there in the blue shirt."
He nodded, and Joan smiled again.
"Hi, can I help you?"
"I just need a small coffee. Black."
Joan nodded.
"Sure thing. We'll bring it out in just a moment."
After the man had paid and taken his seat at a table, he waved Scott over.
"I know it isn't my place to ask, but what happened to that woman?"
"Who? Joan?"
"The woman behind the counter."
"She's dealing with a lot right now, but I'm not really sure on the specifics. I don't know what the bruises are from."
"Oh, I was just wondering."
Seeing Joan out of the corner of his eye, Scott made to walk away. She set the man's coffee in front of him and smiled.
"Let me know if it's too strong," she said with a smile, "I tend to make my coffee very strong."
He took a drink and smiled.
"No, ma'am. It's fine."
Satisfied, Joan walked back to the counter and Scott cornered her as she was entering the storeroom again.
"Joan. Please go home and rest. You're shaking, pale, you look like hell. I'm worried about you."
"I'm not going home. And don't worry about me."
Scott looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and concern. Joan wasn't sure why he worried about her, and said as much. Scott threw up his hands in exasperation.
"How can I not worry about you? You're my boss, but I still care about you."
"What?" Joan blinked, confused.
"I care about you, Joan," he repeated.
Joan stepped back as he moved closer and turned away.
"Don't," she whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Don't care about me. I'm not worth that."
He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. She looked confused, almost scared, and he leaned down to her eye level.
"Joan, listen to me. You are worth more than anyone I've ever met. You're smart, funny, you don't care what people think, you tell people what they need to hear whether they'll like it or not, and you're beautiful."
Joan looked as though she were about to scream, but he still had one last thing to say.
"Joan, when you kissed me yesterday, that was one of the best moments of my life."
"Scott," she whispered finally, "I don't know what to say. So I'll say this: get back to work."


When Bronwyn knocked on Joan's door, she was terrified that her friend wouldn't answer. Joan pulled open the door and rushed into Bronwyn's arms, hugging her. Bronwyn inhaled deeply, committing to memory Joan's very scent. She knew that Joan used pure vanilla extract as perfume, and the smell was mixed with a slight hint of sun block. As Joan stepped back to allow her inside, Bronwyn noticed the bruises on her pale skin and fought the urge to gasp.
The two had planned to have a day where they could sit together as friends and forget the past. Bronwyn was anxious to hear some of Joan's stories, and asked to have her read aloud to distract her from asking about the bruises on Joan's small body.
"There's nothing to read, Bronnie."
"What do you mean? Aren't you writing anymore?"
Joan shrugged slightly.
"Not really. It just doesn't interest me the way it used to."
"Joanie…" Bronwyn fought to keep the sadness from her voice, "are things really that bad? You're so unhappy that you can't even write?"
Joan said nothing for a long moment, and Bronwyn wasn't sure she had heard her.
"I guess," was Joan's eventual answer.
Bronwyn had never heard her friend sound so…indifferent. Seeing Joan give up was heartbreaking, and so unlike her that Bronwyn was very concerned.
"Joan…writing was always your way of expression. If it wasn't music, it was writing. Sometimes you even combined the two and wrote music. You can't let that go."
Joan didn't appear to be listening.
"Joan, don't give up. Don't lose yourself to your pain. Don't you remember your goals and dreams?"
"Bronnie, I lost myself years ago. It's too late now."
Joan's head snapped back. A look of complete shock and fear coloured her face as she stared at Bronwyn's hand still suspended in the air.
"Dammit, don't talk that way! Joan, you can't give up on me! I love you!"
Too late she realised her mistake, and Joan stared at her in silence. She still couldn't believe Bronwyn had slapped her, and her admission only added to her shock. Joan had known, in some way, that Bronwyn had harboured feelings for her, but had assumed they would pass over time. Clearly she had been wrong.
"What?"
Bronwyn, amazed at her own actions, pulled Joan to her, kissing her fiercely, almost urgently. She ran her hand through Joan's black hair, admiring the way it slipped through her fingers. She finally released her and Joan was staring straight ahead as if she couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Her expression was unreadable and too late Bronwyn worried that she made a mistake.
"Joan?" she whispered tentatively.
Joan didn't answer, but stood and walked slowly to the door, opening it.
"I think you should go," she said quietly, "I need time to think."
Hearing this made Bronwyn want to stay. Joan needing time to think was never a good sign. When Joan began thinking too much, her thoughts took a dark and dangerous turn that at times she couldn't be saved from. Still, Bronwyn respected her request and made her way through the door, looking at Joan one last time.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Joan nodded only once.
Bronwyn threw the pills to the back of her throat and swallowed. How could she have been so stupid? She should have known not to kiss Joan. Now she had messed up their newly rekindled friendship quicker than she had ever thought possible. Joan had only kissed her twice in all the years she had known her, and once had just been as a way of saying "thank you". Why had she assumed that Joan could ever feel the same way about her? Joan had always been adamantly clear that she considered her just a friend.
The lights swirled around her and she stumbled to her door. Wrenching it open, she saw Joan on the other side, her hand poised to knock.
"Bronnie?"
"Hmm? Oh, hi Joanie."
Bronwyn's voice was slurred and Joan sighed. She should have known.
"I'm leaving."
"No! Joanie…stay. Please? I'm sorry!"
Against her better judgement, Joan crossed the threshold into Bronwyn's apartment. She sat down on the couch and her friend soon followed, nearly falling into her lap. Though Bronwyn was only a year younger than her, Joan felt significantly older as she ran her hands over her friend's hair.
"Joanie?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
"I know," Joan sighed.
"Don't you like me anymore?"
"You're my best friend, Bronnie. Of course I like you. I'm just not in love with you."
Joan wondered why she was explaining herself, seeing as it was unlikely that Bronwyn would remember any of this in the morning. As Bronwyn began to drift off as a result of the pills she had taken earlier, Joan found herself growing more anxious as each moment passed. Raising the younger woman's head's from her lap, Joan stood and made her way into the kitchen. She soon discovered that Bronwyn was very unorganised and her search was nearly in vain until her eyes lighted on the dishwasher.
Searching for a moment, she triumphantly produced her prize and raised the fabric of her jeans. She winced in pain as the blade of Bronwyn's sharpest kitchen knife tore through her skin. The blood didn't flow instantly, and Joan made another swipe with the knife, her hand jerking slightly. Finally she saw a thin line of blood and felt a small amount of relief. It wasn't enough though, so she ripped the blade across her leg again and again, not satisfied until her skin was completely coated in blood.
She rinsed the knife and turned, wincing as she put her weight on her leg. She nearly fell in shock when she saw Bronwyn standing in the doorway, a hurt expression on her face.
"Joan…"
Joan couldn't meet her eyes, but whispered "What?"
"Why?"
"Because I upset you. I'm the reason you're stoned right now. Because I made you feel like shit, or stupid, or however I made you feel."
"Seeing you like this makes me feel worse than anything you could have said. You were just being honest."
Bronwyn had never seen so much blood on her friend's body before and she fought the urge to cry. Joan lowered herself to the floor and watched with a twisted kind of interest as the blood pooled around her.
"Maybe I went too far," she remarked half-heartedly.
Bronwyn was about to reply when the floor rushed up to her and she hit with a thud. Ignoring the intense pain in her leg, Joan stood and carried her over to the couch, throwing a blanket over her.
"What am I going to do with you?" she whispered.
It didn't occur to her that had she been awake, Bronwyn would have asked her the same.


When Joan entered the coffee shop the next morning, she found Scott waiting for her at the door. She tried to sidestep him, but he moved with her, blocking her way.
"Scott," she sighed, "I didn't come to work to dance with you. Now, are you going to get out of my way or not?"
He shook his head.
"Not. Joan, I need to talk to you. Now."
Her eyes narrowed, and he pulled her over to the side of the building.
"You lay a finger on me, and I'll fucking kill you."
"No, Joan. You can't go in there. He's looking for you."
Joan knew from the scared expression on his face that there was no need to ask who he was talking about.
"Well, I can't go back home, he'll look there next."
Scott nodded.
"Come with me."
He took her hand and pulled her back into the parking lot. Deciding it would be better to use her car, he slid into her driver's seat, ignoring the glare she sent him. It was clear she didn't like being a passenger in her own car. He backed out of the space, and drove out of the lot as fast as he could without attracting attention.
Joan wasn't sure where they were going, but at the moment, she didn't care. She trusted Scott and she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Watching someone else drive her car was strange to her, but she admired how carefully he drove. When he finally pulled over in the parking lot of a small apartment complex, Joan glanced over at him, confused.
"Where are we?"
He didn't answer, but instead shut off the engine and slamming the door before walking around to her side of the car. He pulled her door open and shut it behind her after she stepped out.
"Come on."
She followed him up several flights of stairs and when he dug out a key from his pocket, she finally understood.
"You live here."
He nodded, though it hadn't been a question.
"I have to get back to the shop, but you'll be safe here. Just keep the door locked and don't leave."
The fact that he cared for her enough to open his home to her was overwhelming and Joan had to fight to keep the tears from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and he held her for a moment. When she pulled back, his arms were still circling her and she looked at him, really looked, for the first time. He leaned down and though she knew what was coming, she did nothing to stop it. His lips met hers and for a moment, she forgot everything.
"Joan."
"What?"
"You're amazing."
Joan shook her head.
"No, I'm not. Why does everyone keep saying things like that?"
"Because it's true."
Again the jet black hair flew as Joan shook her head.
"It isn't. I'm nothing. I hurt other people, I left my best friend alone when she needed me most, and I never called her unless I needed help."
"If you're referring to Bronwyn, she loves you. She knows that you left because you had to. She doesn't blame you."
Joan was unable to keep the tears from falling as she listened to Scott. Scott felt something break inside him as he watched Joan's tears fall. He had never seen her cry like this, and he wondered how long it had been since she had let herself truly feel and express her emotions.
"Joan…should I go back and close the shop for today?"
She shook her head.
"No. Go back to work. I'll be okay here."
Against his better judgement, he gave her one final look and then walked out, locking the door behind him. Once she was alone, Joan walked around Scott's apartment, curiously examining things. She spotted a picture on his refrigerator and leaned closer to get a better look.
It had been taken at the small Christmas party they had given at the coffee shop the previous year. In the picture, she was sitting in between Scott and Kaleigh, the young girl who worked night shift, smiling cheerfully. Joan knew the picture well, she had a copy of it herself, but something about this one was different.
Staring intensely, she struggled to find the difference in the two pictures. Suddenly, she knew. Her copy had been crumpled during one of the late-night fights, resulting in a slight distortion. Her smile looked forced in the copy she had, but in Scott's…for the first time she saw what everyone else must see when they looked at her.


As Joan was examining the picture in Scott's apartment, Bronwyn was pulling into the empty space of the coffee shop, tossing back a pill as she did so. She knew better than to drive when she was high, but her body was screaming for a hit. She spotted Scott behind the register, and scanned the room for Joan.
"She's not here."
She turned and saw Scott smiling at her. He motioned for her to follow him into the storeroom and shut the door.
"She's safe, don't worry, but I can't tell you where right now. I'll explain later, okay?"
Bronwyn nodded.
"I'll take you to see her when my shift is over."
Scott opened the door and Bronwyn exited the storeroom, taking a seat at the empty table in front of the counter. The pills she had ingested earlier were beginning to take effect and she smiled to herself as her body relaxed. She watched the customers filing in and was amazed at how many seemed concerned to not see the beloved owner behind the counter. One customer in particular seemed overly concerned and Bronwyn frowned.
"Excuse me, young man, is Joan Esten here?"
Bronwyn started. She knew that voice. She stole a glance in Scott's direction and noticed the look of fear in his eyes. She knew that he had recognised the man, but was trying to keep his shock hidden.
"No, sir. She's not here today."
The man narrowed his eyes, as if he didn't believe Scott, but said nothing. Bronwyn let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and hoped that wherever Joan was, she would be safe.


The key turned in the lock, and Joan raised up, startled. The door swung open, revealing Scott and Bronwyn.
"Joan, I think we should go. There was a car tailing us the entire way here."
There was no mistaking the urgency in her employee's voice, and Joan grabbed her leather jacket, heading for the door. Scott locked the door and the three of them made their way down the stairs.
"Scott, you didn't tell me you had a sister."
They turned at the voice and found an elderly woman looking from Scott to Bronwyn and smiling.
"Well, I-"
"And this beautiful woman must be your girlfriend," she continued, turning her gaze to Joan.
"Mrs. Anderson, we really need to be going."
Scott's neighbour smiled and began walking toward the stairs. Joan and Scott exchanged amused glances and caught up to Bronwyn. No one expected the gunshots that rang out, and as bystanders ran to the safety of their apartments, Bronwyn found herself being pushed to the ground. In the chaos that erupted, she searched for Scott and Joan, but her eyes were struggling to focus.
Scott's voice came to her through the screams of the crowd, and as she finally found him, her heart stopped.
"JOAN!"
Bronwyn crawled to Scott and felt her eyes filling with tears. Joan's blood coated her jacket, dripping onto the pavement beneath her, and her hand was held tightly in Scott's. She didn't notice Bronwyn next to her, and her complete concentration seemed focused on taking the next breath.
"Joan…" Bronwyn sobbed, "Please, don't give up. Breathe. You can do it. Breathe."
Joan's eyes found hers, but when she spoke, Bronwyn knew it was meant for Scott.
"Is everyone else okay?" she whispered.
Bronwyn laughed sadly. Typical Joan. Always worried about everyone except herself.
Scott nodded, unable to speak, and kept her hand entwined with his. As her grip on his hand slackened, Scott didn't even notice when the police officer laid a hand on his shoulder. Bronwyn watched on in silence, unable to stop the sobs that wracked her body. She wouldn't have stopped them even if she had been able to.


Bronwyn sighed as she knocked on the door of Scott's apartment. Today was the day. September 22nd. Joan's birthday. Even now, four months later, the pain of losing Joan was just as fresh as it had been the day it happened. At least Bronwyn had the small consolation that she and Joan had managed to repair their friendship. Joan's murderer had yet to be caught, and Scott dedicated the time that he wasn't running her coffee shop to tracking him down.
Bronwyn admired Scott for keeping Joan's shop open, and after her death, they had organised a memorial service for her. Bronwyn had been amazed at the large number of people that had shown up to pay their respects for her friend. She knew that if Joan could have seen it, she would have been secretly pleased. She would have been upset that people had made such a big deal over her, but Bronwyn knew how important her friends had been.
Scott opened the door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and he shut the door behind him. Though he had never told her, he blamed himself for Joan's death.
"You ready?" he said quietly.
Bronwyn nodded, and the pair made their way slowly down the stairs to the very parking lot they both hated.
Scott stared at the headstone bearing Joan's name and felt his eyes moisten. He traced the letters of her name with his fingertips and sighed.
"I'm so sorry, Joan," he whispered.
Bronwyn laid a hand on his shoulder and he turned to her.
"This is my fault. She's dead because of me."
His voice was thick with tears, and Bronwyn felt her heart break again.
"Scott, it's not your fault. He would have killed her no matter what happened."
"If I hadn't told her to leave the apartment, she wouldn't have been in the parking lot. He wouldn't have known she was there."
Bronwyn forced him to look at her.
"Scott, what happened to Joan is over. We can't bring her back. I know it's hard, and I know you cared for her, but we can't hold on to her forever."
"I loved her," Scott whispered.
"I know," she answered, "So did I."
Bronwyn placed her flowers on the ground in front of Joan's headstone, and sighed. Her hands were no longer shaking, and even through the pain, something worthwhile had come of Joan's death. Bronwyn had been clean for the past three months, and though she was proud of herself, the victory was bittersweet. She knew Joan would have been proud of her, but the triumph wasn't as gratifying without her best friend to share it with. She turned away from the stone, staring up at the sky, knowing that Joan was where she needed to be, and finally free.
"I'm sorry, Joan. I love you."
The sun shone down on her in response, and Bronwyn heard Joan's voice as clear as if she were beside her.
"I know, Bronnie. I love you, too."
The answering breeze was all she needed to assure her that Joan was watching her, and that she would always be there. She turned to Scott, and together they left the cemetery, both knowing that while leaving the past behind would be difficult, it was all they could do. There were no other choices. It was for the best. Nothing came together. No Heaven. No Hell. Just moments.