Who, What, Where, and definitely Why....

So, how can I even start this? I guess I should say I feel invaded, haha. I just feel a lot of this weeks topic has been "what made you who you are?". Now, for some this may be a simple question, but what if you don't know who you are? What if you don't remember much of anything? What if you're constantly this miserable person noone wants to be around? This may sound really depressing, so no one has to read this. I'm really only writing this for myself; you see I am very tired of feeling depressed and suicidal so I just feel I should blog it out since it is the only thing I can actually do without screwing up. After this chapter of my school life is over I wish to pursue a major in Psychology, why? Mostly because I want to figure out what is wrong with me, along with helping other people who feel trapped..

Hm, today we spoke my writing class about "what made you who you are" and I try really hard to think. And I mean I don't really know who I am. I do know that I am a very depressing person. I heard a quote somewhere "you never really know a person not even if you're a close friend or relative; because you don't know what goes on through their mind when they're alone in the dark consumed by their thoughts" which is very true, atleast in my case anyway. Everyone thinks I'm this happy person because I do give back, and don't get me wrong I absolutely LOVE my volunteer work, however, I myself am not happy.

Have you ever felt alone in a crowded room? I feel that way everyday. I walk through the halls as an empty soul just looking for somewhere to belong, somewhere, anywhere. My guess is that the reason that I look for acceptance so much is because when I was younger my father had walked out a door that never opened for me. I don't remember my father, which is funny because my mom tells me he picked me up on the weekends and at one point when I was very young I was abused by his ex girlfriend, and a big shindig went down, I guess? I try really hard to remember him but I just can't. My father remarried and started a family. The only reason I call is for my sister, because truth be told my grudge is against my dad not my sister. To me my sister is my world, she is going to be 2 in February.

He never calls, emails, text messages, or anything to see how I am doing. All I do remember really is whenever my mom needed money for me he would say no because that wasn't his problem. To him all I am is a problem, and I will admit to anyone that all I see myself as is just a problem. If I had never been born my mom would have never suffered, and my dad? Screw that guy he left to live the life he wanted. However, ask his wife about why we don't speak and she will tell you it is all my fault because I am a bitter stubborn person. Stubborn yes, but bitter? How can I be bitter towards someone I don't know? As far as I am concerned my father died the day he left.

I'm tired of people telling me I'm a bad person for not calling my father. Isn't the parent suppose to reach out to the child? I have never heard the words I love you, I have never had a hug, none that I can remember of course. I just don't know what I am feeling is right? How am I suppose to feel if the one who helped create me didn't/doesn't want me? Whenever I would do good in school I would text him or facebook him about it and I never got a response. I will admit it hurts, it hurts a lot.

I find myself consumed by my hurt, if that makes any sense at all. My heart literally hurts me at times whenever I think. And the reasons go even further from my father leaving, but again I don't remember... At times I get this feeling and sense that I have felt before, but I don't know where. Funny, because we read "When I woke up Tuesday Morning, it was Friday" and that made me look or rather realize what I have been going through. I may be making it up in my head, however, I just don't want to feel this way anymore.

I want to be able to be happy. I see people around school with their friends, laughing, and I wonder; what the hell does that feel like? What the hell does it feel like to truly be happy? To bury your past and finally be ok with youself. What is it like to hold yourself up when times are tough? Because between me and this blog (haha) I cry all the time, and not just cry I sob. I cry myself to sleep, I cry in the shower, I cry in my car after school, I cry even at lunch sometimes if no one is around. And I don't even know why. I could be having a decent day and then I'm alone, start to think and before I know it I'm sobbing.

What was this rant about? I truly don't really know. I don't know who I am but I do know I'm tired of people telling me who I am. People put me down all the time and I can't help but think is there anything good about me? Even a little? Even at all? If I am such a bad person as people say I am why am I even alive? If I am so bitter, then what is my purpose here? My aunt once told me "Who would ever fall inlove with a person like you" and no one knows that those words play in my head like a catchy melody. And I tell myself that all the time because from what I gather I'm really worthless. Maybe one day I will finally be happy.

Who is she to say?

Ok, this has always been a touchy subject for me ever since it occurred in my 3rd grade year. And the event I'm referring to is September 11, 2001.. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I'm 18 now which means I was only 8 when this happened... I had been home with lice (dude never borrow other peoples hats'). My mom had been conditioning my hair giving me the biggest lecture about wearing hats that don't belong to me. I wanted her to shut up so bad, and then it happened.. The North tower was hit..

When I was about 6 years old my family & I had lived in Harrison. Everyone knew each other, and everything was safe. I went out to ride my bike with friends without a care in the world. One day I went out to ride my bike like I would have any other day, however, that day I found a bird. To me it seemed injured. So I had picked it up and brought it inside to nurse it back to health. Little did I know that the bird was already dead, but my grandma knew how much it meant to me to save this bird so she played along. It's a little sick now that I think about it, I held a dead bird.. Anyway, my grandma and I had made it a little home & we set it in the garden because my grandma told me it's mother will find it and bring him home. The next day I go out and the bird is gone.

What was the point to that somewhat sick story? I'll get there after another story, as a matter of fact, I have a mini series of stories. My dad had left when I was around 2 and never really saw his way back other than what the court had ordered. When he did pick me up we would go to the city skyline in Hoboken, actually, not too sure if it was in Hoboken, but for the sake of the story bare with me. We would go get ice cream first then go see the skyline. I don't remember why we would go there, but it was the only time I had ever felt close to him. I do remember seeing those towers, they were so beautiful. And seeing how I was so short they were the tallest things I have ever seen.

I remember we would sit on the rocks (back when you could actually go on the rocks now it's closed off). I would go on the rocks until I touched water. My father told me so many stories about the towers and what they stood for. He also told me that there were dolphins in that body of water we were at & we were lucky enough to see one on one of our random visits. After 9/11 we never went back to the skyline again. And this may sound silly, but when 9/11 happened I knew I had lost my father. He never really came to pick me up anymore, I don't know if maybe he got depressed after what had happened? But the relationship between my father & I is no longer.

Now, lets go a little further when I'm 12. It is Christmas eve, and my aunts had taken me to NYC to see the tree. One of my aunts was pregnant at the time & before leaving the city she had to use the bathroom. I had escorted her to the bathroom and notice there was a woman with big black bags. She looked cold, however, she did have some food with her. I approached her and offered her a 20, she declined it. So, I decided to sit and listen to her story. Why was she there? Why was she out in the snow alone? She told me, and I offered her a place to stay, she said no to that too. So, I just listened.

What's the point of all this? I have always been the type to need to help people, and after this day. Even now, I just feel so helpless. My uncle worked at the world trade center, however, that day trafic prevented him from being there. So many people lost so much that day, and if you have a loved one in the military, we're still losing people because of that day. Recently I lost a friend. Back in July three brave men went on a mission in Afghanistan, and come August only 2 came back. I cannot mention any names due to OPSEC rules *I am part of a military family*. When I was told that he didn't come back I didn't know what to do. We weren't too close, they were my penpals, the best penpals I have ever had.

The day I found out he didn't come back I didn't know how to handle it. I cried. I felt as if it were only a day ago I had told them to be safe & I knew they would come back safely... What broke my heart even more was the thought of someone telling his family. I just pictured them in my mind over and over again. I still keep in contact with the others & tell them everyday how proud I am of what they are doing for our country. I just wish we didn't still have so much to lose.... I will always be proud to be an American.