Fool with dreams..

This is a story about how it gets better, but you still remember when it was so bad...

Life might seem hopeless now, and I'm not going to be one of those adults that tells you it isn't, because it really is as bad as you feel like it is. Being a teenager is the best, worst thing that will ever happen to you. I was addicted to drugs, numbed myself with alcohol, OD'ed multiple times, was raped, was molested, survived multiple suicide attempts, rehabs, medications, so many fucking medications, cut my body, starved my body, burned my body, destroyed my body, blacked out for whole weekends, hell, blacked out for entire years, was sexually abused, was mentally abused, was physically abused, had a mother who never loved me, had a father who struggled with the same demons that were in me. Friends died, so many of my friends died.

But, there were good times too, there were summers, summers were always ok, I'm from Florida after all. There were the concerts, I saw My Chemical Romance before anyone knew who they were, I saw All American Rejects in an underground club before they ever signed a real record deal, I saw (my favorite) The Used so many times! So many concerts, I saw the beginning of so many bands that I could go on for hours. There were my friends, my friendmily as I call them, they are still here, 10 years later, some even more than that. There were such good times. 

As bad as the bad times were, the good times were just as good. 

The point of all this is, one day you will miss it, the good and the bad, you will miss the memories. But, the cool part is, life gets better. I live on a fucking tropical island with my amazingly, awesome, Army man husband. He's broken too, (that's another thing, you'll totally figure out that everyone is broken when we grow up), but he is broken in a different way than me. (That's the other cool part, you will meet broken people who's broken pieces don't match yours, and that will work, because together you will make a whole, or atleast a more whole, piece). 

I have two points to this, a good, & a bad (because that's life, and there will always be a good and a bad).

The good news: It gets better. Being a teenager sucks, being an adult sucks too, but at some point, that shit evens out and it gets better. 

The bad news: Those scars, that shit you did to yourself, they stay. One day you will be someone's mom, someone's wife, someone's employee, someone's babysitter, someones's friend, hell, I could go on and on, the point is, people will see that shit, because once it's healed, years healed, it's harder to hide.

I am 25. I am someone's wife. I am someone's babysitter. And I hope to soon be someone's mom. I have to live with the fact that everytime I shake someone's hand they see "PLEASE" across my forearm. They see the same cigarette burns that are my comfort (I re-burned the same spots over and over for years because it helped me remember I was alive). They see the cuts. Everytime I am in shorts they see "HATE" across my ankle. Everytime I am in a bathing suit they see "FAT", "GROSS", "SLOB" across my thighs. 

I am an adult with scars. I am an adult that will have to explain this to my kids one day. I am an adult that is loved. And I am an adult that is telling you that everything sucks, but the days with sunshine are the days it gets better.