P R O M I S E * to never fade away.

[ANNABEL EVA MURPHY]

OUR HOPES + EXPECTATIONS. - - - -

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-------------------------------------------------------------------- BLACK HOLES AND REVELATIONS.[/size][/color][/center]

Have you ever just sat around, wondering what happened to your life? I figure, I can’t be put in much worse of a situation than this one. And then life throws me another curveball, something else that I can’t seem to get past. And I’m stuck. Even when I thought that I was invincible – in actuality, young and naïve – I can’t get past something as minor as the new addition to my life. I used to think that my life was complicated. Who knew that it would get so much worse? I don’t know what to do anymore. My life is a train wreck. I’m in situations and relationships that I never thought would happen to me, never. At one point in my life, I could pride myself by saying that I was independent. I stood up for myself in any situation. I stand up for others. I could say that all with confidence. Confidence in the words, the meaning behind them, and everything else about me.

I just want to know what the hell happened.

Under any other circumstances, I would blame these new, terrible changes on my parents. Every other disaster in my life I have found some way to link back to them, to make it their faults. It’s terrible, sure. Horrible of me. But it makes me feel so, so much better than if I didn’t even do that much. It gives me a better sense of what’s going on.

I might as well get to the actual point of this ... blog thing, right? I need some way for me to talk about what’s happening. I can’t seem to actually say any of the words out loud, I can’t even come to tell my best friends – the people that I’ve grown up with, that I trust the most. The worst part is, I know that they would find a way to get me out of this. They would make sure that I do, as safely and easily as possible. It’s what they do. It’s what I would do for them. I would do absolutely anything for them, especially something in their best interest. Something for their well-being, something that would benefit them.

And there I go getting side-tracked again. It happens way too often, and if anyone ever bothers to read this, then it’s something you’ll catch onto quickly. I’ll jump from one topic to the next almost instantaneously, you’ll be wondering where the hell we are. Maybe this will help me focus on one thing at a time, too, you know, in the long run.

What I love about these blog things is that they can be completely and totally anonymous. No one has a chance of stumbling across this in my room, word after word written in my signature penmanship on crisp lined paper. If anyone I know happens to stumble across it on the internet – good for them. They’ll never know whose blog it is. I’ll even make up code names for everyone I mention. It’ll probably get confusing for me, but I’ll try to keep them straight. The only issue is that I might mess up a few thousand times. Hopefully I’ll catch them before publishing, right? Or else this might end disastrously. And end up being something I regret. Oh god, I hope this doesn’t end up being something I regret…

I have some more spare time. I want this to be something where I post substantial things every week, multiple times a week if I find the proper amount of sustenance and of course, the time to write it all out. And double, triple, quadruple check that I didn’t mess up a code name. (Oh man, now I’m paranoid about this… Damn it!) The way life is looking at this moment, I don’t know how much free time I’ll have. This could prove to be difficult to continue on, but I’ll do it. It’s a new personal goal. I spend enough time obsessing as is. This is just another, better way for me to just that. And hopefully get rid of this desire I have to burden someone I love with my overly-dramatic and extremely fucked up issues.

There’s no easy way for me to divulge into this topic, the point of this thing. So I’ll do what I do best – I’m going to stop beating around the bush, and just be my natural, blunt self.

Code name Matthew. My boyfriend. We haven’t been together all that long; three months, maybe. Things were great, at first… I really, really like him. I can’t leave him, for some reason. I’ve tried to before, I know it’s what’s best for me. I’ve never had that hard of a time with breaking up with someone. Maybe it’s a fear thing? I haven’t been filled with this much fear in my life before, either. There’s a whole lot of changing going on with me, all thanks to Matthew and our painful relationship. I guess I’m one of those girls who just love the way it hurts now, huh? I might be going masochistic. Hell, I might have already been, and I just hadn’t spotted it yet. He doesn’t treat me well. Matthew, that is. He doesn’t even have to be drunk to be an ass to me, like most stories that I’ve heard. He’ll put me down in the worst ways. He’s never happy for me. He thinks I cheat on him with my best friends, code names Robert, Justin and Kevin (yes I am using the names of the brothers in Brothers & Sisters for my best male friends, shut up, deal). He thinks I cheat on him with everyone, and he definitely lets me know what he thinks.

He’s more outspoken than I am, and I’m really outspoken. I tend to say too much, even. It’s terrible. But I’m finally getting what I’ve always wanted… Someone who doesn’t see me as this amazing person. I’m not perfect, and I will never be. Matthew knows that I’m not perfect; he sees my flaws clearer than anyone else. He may make me feel shitty 80% of the time, but he reminds me of everything that isn’t right with me, along with seeing things that I had never even thought of for myself before. He falsely accuses me of things (like cheating, as I stated previously), which I would never do in the first place. It’s confusing. It’s a new perspective, which I have desperately needed.

He’s hit me before. He argues with me, which is something that I’ve always loved. He’s rough, not gentle and soft. He doesn’t treat me like I’m a breakable, perfect little princess. I hate being treated that way… No one seems to understand that. People are willing to argue with me, sure. But… I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I’m loosing this trail of thought, anyways.

Back to Matthew. Sometimes he’s really good. That’s what everyone else seems to see – the diamond earrings shining in my ear piercing, his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulder constantly, the sweet caresses (timed perfectly, mind you, so everyone sees). Sometimes he isn’t as great around others, either. He encroaches on ‘inappropriate’ levels of PDA and groping in public. He glares. He checks out other girls obviously, flirts with them too. I don’t understand it, how he can be so sweet and perfect and then so … bad. Maybe he has a personality disorder. If I bring it up to him, though, I’ll just end up with a bruise.

Even I can see myself changing. Why does it seem like no one else can? Not Robert, or Justin, or Kevin, or Katherine. They don’t suspect anything… I’ve never prided myself in being a good actress – I can’t hide anything for my life. Maybe this is that fear thing playing into it. The fear is kicking up my acting abilities. It’s the pressure of being found out. ‘Cause anyone could look into my eyes and see that I wasn’t telling the entire truth before, but now I’m telling flat out lies. It feels like it, at least. I’m lying during small talk, dammit. That sucks. I can’t believe that they can’t like, see it in my eyes or something. After all of this, I should just go off to Broadway and become a star. Who am I kidding? I’m not an actress. Even if I held the talent, it’s not my thing. And there I go with getting side tracked, yet again. I mentioned that you’ll get used to this, right? At least I’m literate, unlike some of the bloggers out there. That’s one less thing to bug you. If there even is a you?

He’s put me through so much. Matthew, that is. I’m not a prude in anyone’s eyes. Everyone called me a slut in middle school, actually. Thanks to my previously mentioned best friends, that rumor dissipated quickly enough… They’re threatening, those boys, or two out of three are (and I can’t forget Katherine, my best girlfriend… She’s threatening, too). But we had sex really early on in the relationship. As in first week we were together. That’s what happens when your parents leave on business trips for weeks at a time. I started wanting to pull away from the physical aspect of the relationship when he started getting really bad with the hitting and leaving bruises thing. But of course, this wouldn’t do for Matthew! He actually hit me if I wouldn’t have sex with him, on many occasions, actually. Most of the time that would make me shut up, and I’d resort to just lying there.

I guess I was the careful one, though. Maybe I skipped a pill or the condom broke or something, but I found out that I was pregnant. I couldn’t even think when I saw that little plus sign on the pregnancy test… I was alone. I couldn’t dare tell anyone. I just wanted it taken care of. I knew that Matthew would leave me, or maybe get innovative and punch me in the stomach until I miscarried. I figured it would be best to just … abort the pregnancy. I did just that.

Don’t you dare go spilling at me about how abortion is wrong and pro-life and blah blah blah. I know all of your arguments. But I refuse to bring a baby into the world at a time that I do not want a baby. It wouldn’t have had a good life. I haven’t graduated high school yet – I have plans. Matthew wouldn’t stick around. Hell, he might even abuse the kid, too. I couldn’t deal with any of these possibilities. Easiest option. I saw it; it was my one and only exit off of the freeway that I accidentally turned on to. Of course I took it. I … god, I feel so horrible about it. I’ve always cared for my friends and peers, especially when they’re in trouble. People jokingly call me their mother. “The good one, the perfect one that everyone always wants” they explain to me, “not the evil kind that’s always up in your business and terrible and everything.” But hey, I killed my baby. What kind of a perfect, dream-worthy mother does that sort of thing? I guess everyone who said that, or something of the like, couldn’t be farther from the truth.

An even worse thing is the recovery afterwards. I didn’t know that there was this much recovery… Not only does it hurt like a bitch (imagine cramps, times about ten or twenty), but also no sex or physical excursion. For two weeks. It’s been about a week and a half, now. Matthew doesn’t know why I keep pushing him away every time he obviously wants sex. He wouldn’t understand, anyways. He would disregard the recovery and do whatever the hell he wants to anyways… Which is why I’m so afraid. He’s going to cross a line soon, I’m almost certain.

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xoxo. --

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