Saturday, December 22, 2012

Kill for Her

Hey all!

I don't know if I've ever posted solely about a film I was doing... Well, now I am.

This is the most meaningful film I've ever been a part of. It's called 'Kill for Her'.

'Kill for Her' was written by my friend Kyle who killed himself. He always dreamt of being a filmmaker, and had tons of scripts he had written that he left behind.

Kyle's best friend Eric Protiva grabbed 'Kill for Her', called me, and we've been in pre-production for awhile and slated to shoot in late January of 2013!

We're doing this project in Kyle's memory, we have a hash tag on Twitter #InKylesMemory - and we want to raise awareness for mental illness to stop suicide. We also have a hash tag, #StopSuicide.

We're raising money on the films web page to be able to send this film to as many festivals as we have money for. Also, we want to travel to every festival and try to talk to kids in the areas and help them work through struggles and problems they're having. Nothing is that serious to take your life, nothing. We want to let everyone know that.

We also want to share our own stories of pain and darkness, and how we overcame. Eric is a recovered heroin addict, so he has stories to tell also.

Also, with our donations account, we want to take whatever we have left over in the end and donate it animal shelters and organizations. Kyle had requested at his funeral to put the money toward the humane society in his name, so we're doing that with this film for as many as we can in Kyle's name when we're done!

I'm so passionate about the character I'm playing. Clair is an amazing blend of light and dark, good and bad, right and wrong. I love that the audience has to gauge which side she's on at what point in the film. I'm so excited.

I really can't wait to share more of it with you! Keep an eye on the website and the film's Facebook and Twitter pages also!

We've already been covered by HorrorBug and TrulyDisturbing, Internet horror film news sites. We can't wait to take this film global!

So keep an eye on us! This is going to be an amazing film, we promise.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Newtown, CT

I can't believe this.

I can't get over it.

I woke up to a text from a director friend of mine. Here's the exact text:

"Fuck! Some asshole shoots up elementary school in Connecticut kills 27 kids! I'm tired of this shit!"

I was bleary from just waking up, so I go into the other room to see my parents (because who doesn't go home for Christmas?) sitting around the TV in the family room.

I took one look at my mother, and knew something was very - very - wrong.

I sat myself down and aside from getting coffee didn't move for the next several hours.

Sadly, shootings have become less an less shocking. There have been, what feels like, so many. The violence is shocking, mind numbing and totally confusing.

It's incomprehensible to even begin to try and find out why any of these people do these horrible things. I don't get it, I never will. The majority of normal common sense having human beings try to process a situation in their mind with inspecting every branch off a problem to see what, if any, possible conclusion the said person could have arrived at to do such a thing. Even if we don't understand it.

I can understand psychologically what might drive all of these horrible people to arrive at such a childish and stupid conclusion. It's not right, but I can usually break down events such as this psychologically.

The factors, the people. The delusions, the lack of compassion. The anger they recognize in themselves childishly only as 'being ignored' or wanting to 'be someone'. The 'Why's to that are a million sets of other brain branches, but still - the professionals can walk them with enough puzzle pieces.

It's never okay. Never. To take anyone's life. No one is God. It's never okay to choose to take anyone's life.

I sat and watched for hours. All day. For me, when events like this happen, I have to process. Analyze. Gather information. That, & I guess those couple Law classes I took really stuck with my spirit. I called several friends, talked for hours. Really playing LEO's ourselves in order to, I guess, sort out our own emotions and feelings. To help us better process what we were seeing.

I was numb on Friday. Analyzing and watching, talking it over and reading. Saturday, however, was a totally different story.

Anger hit. Sadness hit. Disbelief hit. Disgust hit.

I felt my heart break into 26 pieces.



Someone went into a ELEMENTARY SCHOOL and shot 20 SIX AND SEVEN YEAR OLDS?!?




I had to go to a business meeting late Saturday afternoon. I was getting ready, with the news in the background. I heard that Emilie Parker's dad was going to say a few words in her honor.

I put my makeup down and sat in front of my TV. I listened to Emilie's dad, I felt his pain. I read the scrolls. I was okay.

Then, they put up Emilie Parker's picture.

I lost it.

I started bawling my eyes out.

Something about seeing that beautiful baby's photograph just slapped me with reality.

Thinking back to the forensic examiner talking about how graphic and nasty the scene of the shooting was. That each of those 20 children had anywhere from 3 to 11 bullets in each of them.

Why, why, why on earth?! How? HOW?! How could anyone look a child in the eyes and do that to them?!

To see Emilie Parker and think that anyone could even think about doing anything like that to her... White hot rage.

Her Dad. Poor dad. Her poor family. All of the children's families. The unbearable pain they must be feeling.

The teachers, the amazing teachers and staff in that school who jumped in front of their students, hid their students, sacrificed for their students. Their children. Murdered trying to save their kids lives.

After Emilie's dad spoke, they showed more photos of more children. I continued to weep, making my makeup efforts null and completely void.

How could anyone do such a thing?

He also shot his mother 4 times in the head?!?! WHAT?! My God, I've been mad at my mother sometimes. Hell, I'm only human. I've screamed at my mother and surely told her I hated her at least once in my lifetime. I've been so angry with her I have fought her physically (if you don't read all of this blog that will seem horrible), but I could NEVER - EVER do anything like that!

I love my mother. I would never be able to do anything to her like that.

I hated my sister in my day, my brother, my siblings. I've fought them too.

As quickly as I can scream at any of them, I would jump in front of anyone to save their lives. They're my heart.

I don't have children, but my first baby - my cat Cuddles - when she passed away, I was beside myself. I couldn't imagine the pain that would be loosing an actual child if it hurt that bad to loose my Cuddles.

I just had to type about this. My heart is broken. I just wish I could hug and love on all those beautiful babies and teachers.

We will never understand why, but we do know they're in Heaven now. God is watching over them, and they're watching over us.

(Photo note: Found it on Twitter of all the children. Don't believe the other children's photos have been released)

Wednesday, November 28, 2012


Depression sucks.

At least I think it's depression. It feels like a cloud that's been following me around.

When I was young it found me. It found me in my parents voices screaming to me that I'm always to blame for every fight - that I should just keep my mouth shut.

It found me in being thrown across my room and hit. It found me in having both my parents hold me down to hit me, being drug around by my hair, by being forgotten. Ignored. Blamed.

I always dreamt of being an actress. A star. Being in those big blockbusters, Hollywood movies. I begged, pleaded, cried for help. What did I get told? "We're not living off of beans so you can do some stupid dream." What dream? It wasn't a dream. It was a part of me.

The cloud formed a pain. Deep in my soul, my spirit.

That pain found a release in a razor.

That razor became my best friend. My only friend. For every, "Look, now look at what you did!" Or "Look how upset you made everyone!" It told me that I was okay. For that moment.

One cut became two. Two became four. Four became twelve, and that became countless hundreds. For ten years the razor was my best friend. I remember being in school, at people's houses, going anywhere and everywhere with my best friend to escape the pain that was my existence.

The razor wasn't enough. Everyone made alcohol seem really appealing. What does it take for a 15 year old to pick up a bottle of liquor and finish it? To herself? In one night?

The liquor wasn't enough. Body issues seemed horrifying. I would try and cut my fat away, and pinch - pick - pull... Diet, starve, exercise. Cut, cry, scream, puke.

No amount of crying, bleeding or starving ever got rid of the burning deep in my spirit that screamed all these horrible things at me. So much louder and more profound than anyone in my house could ever echo.

I heard some kinds of pills made you not want to eat. I heard everyone at the parties talk about snorting, parachuting, shooting them. I wasn't happy with anything else I'd found to numb any pains I had. I had become a violent, painful mess.

At least I'd be a violent, skinny, painful mess.

What people didn't tell me was - pills become addicting.

As addicting as the alcohol had become, and the cutting still was.

Everything added another layer of darkness to the cloud that was my life. There wasn't enough alcohol I could drink. Enough pills I could take. Enough times I could cut to make any of it go away.

I went to school on my 16th birthday with a black eye. My dad really liked to back hand me over, and over, and over again.

Of course, that was my fault too.

Don't get me wrong, I was a violent child. I would curse back. When my dad challenged me to a fight, I'd accept. I'd throw, kick, and punch. I was a fighter.

I spent most of my schooling suspended and just one step away from expulsion. I was always fighting and skipping, cheating and not caring. Every principal knew me. It got so bad, I even saw the inside of a jail.

I guess any child would be violent and disobedient that had violence and negativity on display every day. How do you know any different?

On my 16th birthday, teachers called child protective services regarding my bruised eye. I didn't ask, they just did. When I got home, it was my fault. How embarrassing it was to have them be questioned, how horrible it was that I didn't just say how horrible I was.

Again. My bad.

I decided that day that I had enough. I couldn't take the cloud anymore. I wrote down all my suicide notes and went I to the bathroom to end it all. I got the Tylenol, I got all my pills I had no business having. I started taking them all.

Then, it stopped. I don't know to this day if I stopped it or if a higher power did. Above all, I did want to be happy. I did want all my dreams to come true. I had a tiny bit of my heart that was still beating.

I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I forced myself every day to smile. I researched the psychology of someone like myself. I say and analyzed my life, everyone in it. Broke down why I did what I did, why everyone else did what they did.

I became happy. I became clean. I became sober. I became SI-free. It took awhile, but it happened. It was such a rush of horrifying stuff every day, 24/7 that I sometimes can't tell where it started and ended.

Now, having been clean and sober from it all for so long... I am acting. I am living out my dreams. I did more than the broken 12 year old me would ever think I could.


...the cloud doesn't go away.

It's always there. It's the learning to live with moving it, and getting it off of you. See, now my source of depression and 'triggers' exist in another dimension.

The only thing I've ever wanted with my entire being seems to be the one thing that's virtually impossible.

I live in California, I go everywhere for jobs. Finding an agent is next to impossible because you have to be somebody to get someone - but someone won't look at you unless you are somebody. You can't even get a call unless your this or that, but to be this or that you would have had to get someone to care.

It's not the auditions that bother me. Nothing like most people would think. It's not the rejections, no.

It's the fact that to have rejections, you have to be looked at. That's the problem right there.

I have tons of actor friends who have the same complaints. We're the 'classy bunch' who won't do porn, won't get naked, won't get topless and certainly won't sleep with anyone for anything - so we're REALLY passed up.

On the days when I sit around and I think about everything I'm NOT doing, or stuff I'd love to be doing, but I'm not... Like on a set, auditioning... Meeting someone important...

That's when my habits have told me, "Hey, go get a razor. It works, you know it does! How about a drink? Two? Seven? Some pills - mix them all!"

I've learned to stop it. Right there. Everything in life is happening just as it needs to. Everything will happen, it's the patience I have to work on. I'm a workaholic, so sitting for me is hell. I need to take those opportunities to go to dinner with a friend. Watch a movie. Relax. Work on myself.

Work on peeling this cloud off of me again. If I stopped fighting, lord only knows where I'd be...

My friend Luke who used to sell me most of my pills is dead. Heroine overdose.

My friend Megan who always told me I could be anything I wanted to, and was one of the people who believed in me most is dead. Pneumonia.

My friend Brandon who was always a smiling face when I was in school, always lifted me up by just being himself is dead. Motorcycle accident.

My best friend, Kyle, who put me in my first movie and spent basically every day with me, always believed in me is dead. Suicide.

My friend Jared who I met on a set of a film I was in - an amazing person and a brilliant visionary who always had my back and helped me with so much is dead. Suicide.

...I could have been any one of those.

I'm just thankful that I'm still here to fight. Sure, it's easier to stop fighting. Much easier. Much, much easier.

I can't.

There are days I still cry myself to sleep, but I can't give up. I have to find my smile and my strength, even if I'm in it alone. I'm doing this for myself and no one else. My happiness is #1. I deserve it.

The blockbusters will come. The huge blow-your-mind opportunities will come. No doubt, they will.

It's just remembering that I am an addict. I am recovered. I still have triggers, I still have certain 'mind-caves', as I like to call it, that I can get trapped in. That's a thing I learn to deal with.

I can't let it own me.

It honestly doesn't happen that often, either. It's seasonal, usually. But then again, all depressive addictions are somehow triggered by cold damp darkness and tons of family members, lol.

I can't let it own me.

I found my speaking out regarding my past and my pains, sharing my story and my goals and my dreams, it helps others. It means a lot to me with my knowledge of these pains to be able to walk someone into the light of theirs.

To my girls - you know who you are - I told you all you can make it into recovery, and I mean it. Your all beautiful people who have so much for the world. I know your pain. I do, really.

You have the power to change your life for the better. I will fight with you until you find that inner power I KNOW that you have.

All these thoughts, these feelings, and just like some tag-along cloud. Sometimes it's sunny and nice and cute and fluffy. Other times, it's black and feels like it's smothering you alive.

Remember - its just a moment. A short moment. One bad moment is one bad moment, it doesn't equal a bad life. I think that's the misconception so many have.

Now, my parents and I have healthy relationships. I accept that the past can't be any different, and I accept that their actions were a direct reflection of them being human beings who honestly didn't know any better. And that's okay.

Live life, be happy. Smile, love those who deserve your love. Follow your dreams and expect the best.

The cloud is always there. Smile, and the sunshine will come. Other than that, don't pay any attention to it.

You ignore it, it'll go away.

I'm a living testament to the FACT that you absolutely can make it. I promise you, if I could talk to the 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 year old me's that I would be arguing against that fact and would refuse to believe it.

I know where your coming from, but you can recover. It is possible. From all of it.

I promise.

Thursday, September 27, 2012


In this crazy business we call a show, I've learned some very important things I wanted to take a couple minutes to share with everyone.

They're not mind blowing, nor are they profound. What they are, is guaranteed.

1- It's most important to develop as a woman first, and a performer second.

2- Know the business behind everything.

3- Don't let go of your morals.

4- Pause, and breathe.

5- Don't spend time stressing about what life will fix for you.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Fate and Puzzles

I'm not sure about much.

Then again, who has the blessing to be 100% sure about anything? Really, truly? I think it's damn near impossible to be sure sure sure when it's more than just a decision involved. When it's your heart, your soul, your destiny, fulfilling a purpose.. That's difficult. When your decision effects every fiber of your being, and it's not just your passions fueling your decisions - its how your life will be lived from them onward.

They say everything is fated. Fate will seal itself over our lives eventually and keep the fears and worries and discouraging days from spilling over. How long does one continue waiting for fate to step in an lend a helping hand?

Also, of course remember - your fate, your make or break moment, your helping hand, your shoulder to lean on could all show itself in one single person. An event. Hang on the end of a 'yes' or 'no' answer, and depending how it's answered, it comes or goes. We all wait for those moments, I think. We all want everything to fit into the shapes the way it was designed so our puzzles can be put together. I know I myself have far too frequently sat and felt like a puzzle who's pieces were all missing, pieced together wrong. Like I knew I had some of the pieces in my hand, but I couldn't figure out how to put them together. Or I was so anxious to have them together that someone squeezed one piece where it didn't belong.

I wish the majority of life was easy. I wish everything came to those who fought for it. I wish the hard working dreamers got their wishes. We're so used to hearing about all the dreamers who are successful, but more times than not - it was a dreamer who had the correct amount of money, a connected relative, a friend of a friend, the right place the right time, it fell into their lap, they had someone suggest it and didn't care - tried it - scored - now love it, took their clothes off for the right person... The common realities are endless. What about the hard working dreamers who try, and try, and try for years and literally give up everything trying, and can't seem to get fate to hand them the correct puzzle piece?

We don't hear about them.

That alone is frustrating. The spiderweb of possibilities, good and bad in this world with fate and destinies - are mind numbing. The ifs, and maybes... Frankly, make me sick. The feeling that things don't seem to change, and the feeling of running in the same circle on the same hamster wheel over and over and over and over and over again... Sickening.

The constant searching for the ways to put your frustrated, broken, sad, confused self together is enough to make anyone completely nuts. We can't give up. I myself have seen and experienced first hand too many people give up their dreams, the things that make up the core essence of their being.

They didn't just give up that dream, no. They had nothing else to live for, so they ended their lives too.

The scary part?

I relate to that.

I can feel and relate to that on a very personal level. I can feel for that decision so closely, it makes me nervous. However, I have chosen long ago to stay on this earth. I have been given the burning desire to do what I do for a reason.

I can't make it go away. I can't ask for it to be taken back. I will never wake up and stop caring. Ignoring it is not an option.

I guess I'll just find peace in sitting impatiently with all the other dreamers who can't stop their passions from controlling their lives, and keep looking for the correct pieces to my puzzle.

If you happen to see Fate walking around, send her my way? I've been looking for some help for awhile...

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Such a beautiful thing.

“I owe Marilyn Monroe a real debt…it was because of her that I played the Mocambo, a very popular nightclub in the ’50s. She personally called the owner of the Mocambo, and told him she wanted me booked immediately, and if he would do it, she would take a front table every night. She told him - and it was true, due to Marilyn’s superstar status - that the press would go wild. The owner said yes, and Marilyn was there, front table, every night. The press went overboard. After that, I never had to play a small jazz club again. She was an unusual woman - a little ahead of her times and she didn’t know it.”
- Ella Fitzgerald

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Not everything that is faced can be changed,

but nothing can be changed until it is faced.

- Lucille Ball

Thursday, May 24, 2012


Strength isn't in the moments it takes one to convince themselves to take their own life.

Sure, it feels like it... But that's not being strong.

One moment and you never have to worry about strength again. Your gone, your free, you don't have to worry about dealing and suffering and moving through this mandatory day to day crap we call Life.

You make yourself the option to permanently remove yourself from situations you don't like.
You get rid of the feelings that your
Not smart enough
Not pretty enough
Not good enough
Not talented enough
Not loved enough
Not worth enough
Not perfect enough

You don't have to cry yourself to sleep ever again.
You don't have to sit in a bathtub with a razor and cut yourself so many times you can't even count just to try and remember that your alive.
You don't ever have to worry about hiding your thoughts or feelings, worried someone will make fun of you for it - never getting the help you really need.
You don't have to worry about actually telling someone, a parent, and have them tell you you have a problem and to just get over it like normal people - and then tell you your not normal, and normal people don't do, say, or think the things you do.

You make the choice to be free.

It builds up so high, and cakes itself on so thick - you can't tear it down or scrape it off anymore... and that's really the only option you have left.
Your so wound up in it so tightly, you can't breathe anymore. Moving a finger hurts, smiling makes you wanna cry, and every time you blink you wish you'd see your bedroom ceiling and everything that day would just be a dream.

...You let yourself go.

I don't think people realize... 9 times out of 10, when someone sits and writes suicide notes... they're crying? Not just a single tear... gut wrenching painful sobs?

Not really does anyone ever put on a smiley face and hum a joyful tune when they write them.
No one really wants to do it. Deep down, it's never the #1 - they wish they could find a way out of everything, but they can't.

Well... they don't think they can.

Being strong is making a conscious decision to stay on earth anyways.
To experience life, and deal.
To have all the pain from above creep in, and really WORK to find sunlight.

Being strong is having moments of weakness, and knowing the previous is an option - but choosing to stay here anyways.

I'm not some asshole who doesn't know what they're talking about... I've been on both sides. Sometimes, the kids I talk to look at me like I'm a total loon when I tell them the steps to take toward loving yourself and accepting... what they don't initially understand is that I'm not someone just telling you what a book told me about the study of the feelings they're having, no. I've actually been there.

I was abused, I was a cutter for 10 years - relapsed twice, I'm an alcoholic - been sober for 5 years, I'm a recovered addict. I loved pills. Clean for 6 years. Wrote all my suicide letters, went into a bathroom, and tried to swallow 5 bottles of pills.

...I had Angels watching over me, let's just say that.

I decided to stay on earth anyways. To find the light. To learn how to love myself.

People think it's easy... that just because you will it to be so, it happens in the snap of a finger.
It takes hard work.

Friends and family will ask me about films I've done, places I've traveled, or troubling life/business situations. They'll say something like, "Wow... That must be the hardest thing you've ever had to do."

I always say, "No, the hardest thing I've ever had to do was learn how to love myself - and convince myself I belong here."

It's true... and everyone is always shocked. I have talked to several people in private and helped them through troubling times, sharing with them my story and my recovery. I hesitated to write it down publicly, or share it in the masses.

People always get made fun of for it, and specially with this beautiful business we call a show - it's already so threatening and heart-wrenching, who knows who will judge me for what - and it's not like I can afford to just not work or not take a role because someone thinks I'm a nut.

But... I've had so many people recently take their own life, it makes me mad. I thought, this is the problem. Right here. The problem is that more people who have suffered, who sometimes still suffer, and are still here - sit in silence and let shit like this continue.

We sit at the funerals and read the articles listening to people talk about how stupid and selfish and wrong and blah it is... and we're thinking back to our own wrists, our own letters, our own reminders of when we almost did what they did. We say nothing, not wanting any backlash.

In turn, not really taking the only opportunity we have to use what we went through and do some good with it. Educate, and help some people who - when you speak up - might have the strength to say they need help.

Strong is knowing you don't have all the tools, but being willing to find them.
Find them in people.

Before you know it - strength, and love, will build up inside you. You'll look back and almost not be able to tell where it came from.

Looking at the sun, at the day, differently. Forcing yourself to.

I used to shut everything in my room and lay in bed all day long. I forced myself to open the windows, and turn on the TV. Something. I called a friend, did something... before you knew it, I was laughing.
Before long, the laugh really reached my soul. It wasn't something superficial I did anymore to show people I was there and make them think I was okay... it actually started to reach my soul, and brighten the person I was.

I remember the first time in my entire life... I was sitting by myself, in my room, with my cat Cuddles. I wasn't drunk or high. I didn't have any cuts on my body. I wasn't sad, I hadn't thought about cutting that whole day. All my lights were on in my room, I wasn't sleeping, and I was laughing at something - on TV I think.

I stopped, smile still on my face but I stopped - and realized everything from the above sentences. I realized that I felt happy. My soul wasn't in this dark cloud of pain anymore.

I thought, "I guess this is what it feels like to be free, and happy."

Free and happy. Free and loved. Free and, frankly, not giving a fuck what anyone has to do or say about it. I didn't care about people, my parents, anyone. I was me, and me was good enough.

Now what people don't stress to people is that this isn't simple. Moments like those come often - very often - and it's beautiful. You find beauty in things and people you wouldn't otherwise. You genuinely love yourself, and what you are and have to offer.

Sometimes, you still stumble into the dark.

Sometimes, you relapse.

Sometimes, it builds up again and you have no idea where it came from.

It never just goes away completely. Not for me, anyways.

It's still finding the new strength on those moments to call a 'lifeline', so to speak. Knowing now what happiness means most to you, and going to do that. Getting in a 'safe place' where you can't think or feel those things. Surrounding yourself with love in the moments you need it, because now you'll actually feel accepting and deserving of the love people have for you.

Strength isn't taking the easy way out when everything is too much for you to bear and you don't know how to handle. Strength is putting up and dealing anyways.

My strength? Choosing to stay in this world, finding love for myself, and fighting to keep myself here every day.

With it almost being the end of Suicide Awareness/Prevention month, I thought I'd share some of this stuff for you. If it's helped at least one person, I'm happy for it.

If you or someone you know has feelings of suicide or depression, please call the national helpline - in the meantime, please visit - You are here for a reason. Don't give up.

Give yourself a big hug for me, Mmkay?

You are loved.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Dear Kyle.

Dear Kyle,

All along I believed time would change you...

This Friday, it'll be one year since you've been gone. One year since the day no one will forget. One year since you took your own life.

We've all had a full year to work through our pain, ask each other the questions we thought we needed answers to... How stupid are we? Your the only person who can do that for us, and - well - you can't.

I'm so mad at you. Mad for going without saying 'Goodbye', mad that you chose not to see my heart even when I told you it was there... But I'm the maddest because for the last year, I've had to watch your family continue to grieve a pain that will never go away. I'm mad at you for taking away Emily's big brother, I'm mad at you for taking away Mom and Dads only son. I'm mad at you for never realizing any of the gifts or talents you had...

...I'm thankful for all the times you would call me over to make dinner for me. I'm thankful for all the hours we'd spend on the phone - every day - all day. I'm thankful for how much you taught me about movies and script writing that I didn't know. I'm thankful that you once gave me a safe place to cry, and go to talk if I ever needed it.

I'm thankful for the presence you were in my life.

I'm blessed to have you watching over us all now.

All the time I have spent on myself and on my own recovery, I don't think I've ever really appreciated life truly - fully - completely - until you ended yours. Only for the sole fact that no one ever thinks they're going to experience something like that with anyone so close to them... But, I did. Looking around at the funeral, even at your family today... I'm thankful I have the lungs to breathe. I'm thankful I have people in my life to embrace.

I'm thankful I have recovered, and even when the triggers come - I'm thankful to be able to be upset, and work through it. It means I'm alive, and I made it through my darkest moments. It means I found my own strength. Lord knows we all tried to help you find yours, and I know you have it now.

Thank you, Kyle, for showing me what it means to love the people in your life. Thank you for showing me that it's a life meant to live out your dreams. Thank you for teaching me about the different ways to truly cherish everyone in your life, because you never know.

I tried to hard to save you... I know that no one could have done anything, but my god I tried. If I couldn't convince you to live while I was screaming and pleading with you to please not leave me through tears the first time... Well, I don't know.

I'm sorry if you thought less of me than I understood, and I'm sorry that I couldn't correct it. I hope you know now the things I never got to tell you.

Anyways, I miss you. This completely sucks, and I want my best friend back. I wish I could turn back time, figure a way to foil your plan so you'd be here but hate me forever... I can't.

I loved you for a thousand years. I'll love for you for a thousand more.

Always. XO

Sunday, March 11, 2012

I Was Not Built To Break

Lost Touch With My Soul

I Had No Where To Turn

I Had No Where To Go

Lost Sight Of My Dream,
Thought It Would Be The End Of Me

I Thought I'd Never Make It Through

I Had No Hope To Hold On To,

I Thought I Would Break

I Didn't Know My Own Strength

And I Crashed Down, And I Tumbled
But I Did Not Crumble

I. Got. Through. All. The. Pain.
I Didn't Know My Own Strength

Survived My Darkest Hour
My Faith Kept Me Alive
I Picked Myself Back Up
Hold My Head Up High

I Was Not Built To Break.

I Didn't Know My Own Strength

Found Hope In My Heart,

I Found The Light To Life

My Way Out Of The Dark

Found All That I Need - Here Inside Of Me

I Thought I'd Never Find My Way

I Thought I'd Never Lift That Weight

I Thought I Would Break

I Didn't Know My Own Strength

And I Crashed Down, And I Tumbled
But I Did Not Crumble
I Got Through All The Pain
I Didn't Know My Own Strength

Survived My Darkest Hour
My Faith Kept Me Alive
I Picked Myself Back Up
Hold My Head Up High

I Was Not Built To Break
I Didn't Know My Own Strength

There Were So Many Times I
Wondered How I'd Get Through The Night I
Thought Took All I Could Take

I Didn't Know My Own Strength

And I Crashed Down, And I Tumbled
But I Did Not Crumble

I Got Through All The Pain
I Didn't Know My Own Strength

Survived My Darkest Hour

My Faith Kept Me Alive

I Picked Myself Back Up

Hold My Head Up High

I Was Not Built To Break...

...I Didn't Know My Own Strength!

         Rest In Peace, Whitney. 

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Through it, in it, and above.

Life and death,
energy and peace.

If I stop today it was still worth it.

Even the terrible mistakes that I made and would have unmade if I could.

The pains that have burned me and scarred my soul,
it was worth it,

for having been allowed to walk
where I've walked,

which was to hell on earth,

heaven on earth,

back again,



far in between,

through it,

in it,

and above. ❤