Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Happy New Year's Eve!

This is very hard.

The last couple weeks, I've done nothing but pace in circles - chain smoke (about quitting...) - and do stupid, tedious, meaningless things so I didn't drive anywhere and buy a box of razors.

...the exclamation point on my title was misleading, wasn't it? 

I have had to sit and remind myself why I'm better than that a thousand times, and really - today - the only reason I have came up with is, "It's socially unacceptable and I'm not in the mood to hide it."

Those are my reasons.

Once more for those who don't know - no, self injury is not a suicide attempt. It's really a suicide preventative.

It's something to relieve the pain. 

It's a thing that I'm addicted to because it makes all the pain go away. 

And I fucking need that lately.

It's hard to function when your entire fucking heart and soul was left in two people who committed suicide.

I want to go to Kyle's and hang out for New Year. 

He killed himself. I can't.

I want to call Jared and ask him to help me deal with the pain of Kyle's suicide. Like he used to.

He killed himself, too. I can't.

I need help and advice from them for so many other reasons... 

They killed themselves. They're gone.

This is just a rough patch right now. A tough spot. It's grief, and it hurts. 

This is when smiling hurts. Laughing is irritating and unbearable, and all I want is to walk into a room and see them sitting there - like they are expecting me. 

This is when celebrations feel stupid and pointless, and another year for most brings happy and all that - and for me, it's a reminder of all the things they're not here to experience.

Another year without them.

I've been listening to my golden podcasts. Watching my Lifeclass. Playing my Iyanla Vanzant CD's... And it's helping... 

...but it'll never bring them back.

It's another year to appreciate things. People. And realize that everything is to be cherished. Everything is a reason to be blessed. 

...I have to remind myself of that.

They believed in me more than anyone else I have ever met.

They loved me in a way I was able to recieve more than anyone else I've ever met.

No matter what, I knew they were in this world. And because they were, it was alright. 

I think I need to call Kyle's Mom. 

I'm gonna go do that, and leave you all with the last and only movie Jared ever wrote/directed/edited/color corrected/and stared in. 

He did it all. Everything in this series of parts to his film, he did. Logos in the beginning, animated and colors and writing and everything. 

Kyle... I wish he would have had a moment of belief in himself great enough to put his work out there. 

Anyways, for this New Year, I leave you with Jared's film, 'Lord Save Our Souls'.

I'm gonna try watching it again. Last time I tried, well... Yeah. 

(Follow the suggestions/channel for the following parts, in order - 1 thru 4.)

God, they were so brilliant. I wish you could see Kyle's scripts. Jared did, legit, all of that virtually on his own. 

I am so blessed I got to spend hours and hours on the phone with him picking his brain about that film. About every fucking piece of it. How he did it all, why, all of it. 

He was going places. They both were going places. They were such amazing people, such wonderful human beings. Such fantastic men. 

Even when I talked to him about the 'closer to reality than he would admit to anyone else' undertones, and my concerns about the suicide aspect, he expertly reassured me it was fine. 

Like the God damn secretive genius he was.

God... I can't. I'm so angry, hurt, just... 

Suicide is real, folks. It's fucking real. 


Happy New Year, everyone. 

Please realize your life is precious. Please.


Kyle's Mom, call is going thru... 

Don't forget to check out the writing Jared left behind, at 

Tuesday, December 30, 2014


Feel free to take and post your own answers! 

[bold what applies to you]

Category One: Clothing

I wear Converse.

I wear plain black skate shoes.
I really love dresses.

I wear a lot of band t-shirts.

I wear a lot of black.

I like wearing skirts and dresses with Converse.

People at my school often copy my style.

I love jeans.

I dress the way I want to, I don’t care what anyone thinks about my style.

Wearing clothes I like gives me a lot more confidence.

I don’t really look to anyone else for style ideas.

Category Two: General Appearance
Something about my appearance is very unique and distinct.

I have more than one birth mark.

I have very tanned skin.
I tan extremely easily in the summer.

I am skinny. 
I have curves.

I wear glasses.

I have my father’s eyes.

My self-esteem has been getting much better.

People have told me straight up that they are jealous of my body - & it feels good to get compliments like that.

I don’t spend a lot of time getting ready - I basically look the way I do when I wake up.

Category Three: Annoyances

I hate when people are overly cocky and arrogant.

I hate when people make assumptions - they’re normally totally off.

When I’m standing in line at a cash or something, I hate when people stand practically on top of me. It doesn’t make the line move any faster!
I strongly dislike when I get excess lotion or water in between my fingers, and I don’t really understand why.

If someone pisses me off enough, I’m not shy to tell them off.

If someone is asked to stop doing something more than once, I feel it’s okay to start yelling at them.

I hate hypocrites - but I can be a hypocrite myself sometimes. 
I hate people who act like know-it-alls.

I hate it even more when it’s a subject I know more about than them.

I absolutely hate when people try to drag me into their pathetic drama.

My number one pet peeve is when someone has too many pet peeves.

Category Four: Surveys

I find it stupid when people take the tags off surveys, but survey makers who go as far as making a “hate list” for all those who do it are just assholes themselves.

I think I may have a serious addiction to surveys… Oh well!

There are many people on Xanga I would like to meet in real life!

There are a few people on Xanga that I’d like to yell at.

I seriously wonder why Xanga isn’t as popular as Facebook when it’s so much better than Facebook.

If you’re going to insult me directly more than once while taking a survey I made, then don’t even bother taking my survey.

In a way I’m a hypocrite for saying that, because if there’s no tag on the survey, then I will call the survey maker an idiot and whatnot, if I seriously feel they are and if I’m in that bad of a mood.

I’d be a millionaire if I got paid to do this!

I wish I had a laptop with wifi so that I could sit outside and do surveys when I have nothing better to do.

Why do survey makers insist on having a certain number of comments and subscribers before they make another survey? This is for fun, it isn’t a business, and you aren’t making money off of it, so why are you being so anal about communication with your survey-takers?
I don’t see the point in lying on surveys. 
Why take them if you aren’t going to tell the truth?

Category Five: Things I Seriously Love

Coffee, and caffeine in general.

The show Pawn Stars.

Feeling good about myself.

Encouraging other people to stay positive and be strong.

Tattoos and piercings.

Anthropology, sociology, and psychology.

Making and taking surveys.


Rain and thunderstorms.

Music, of course.

Random, interesting facts.

Category Six: Music

I can play piano.

I can play bass.

I can sort of play guitar.

I listen to music every day.

I own at least three instruments.

I still buy CDs.

I really want to learn to play drums.

I wouldn’t mind learning to play the violin as well. 

Practically everyone in my family can play some sort of instrument.
I used to take dance lessons.

Category Seven: Photography

I own a FujiFilm camera.
I take walks so I can take pictures.

I have a folder on my computer of pictures I’ve taken.

I love taking pictures of fireworks.

I also love taking pictures of nature.

One of my favorite settings on my camera is macro.

I have a blink detector on my camera.

My camera takes amazing, bright, vivid photos.

I want to make a photo album of pictures that I’ve taken.

I wouldn’t mind being a photographer.

I don’t know what I would do without my camera.

Category Eight: Relationships & Friendships

I have serious trouble keeping lasting friendships.

I have no trouble keeping a lasting romantic relationship.

Those two don’t directly relate to each other - I don’t ditch my friends for my partner, ever.

I have been in a relationship for almost two and a half years.

It is my first relationship.

I have only ever kissed one person.

My partner and I have been in a band together.

In my opinion, friends are for socializing, not relying on for rough times.

I love going out with friends.

I have been in a band with all my best friends before. 

I have been verbally and psychologically abused by friends before.
I have punched one of my friends in the face.

. Done! 

Monday, December 29, 2014

Don't be crazy.

The other day, I had some dude basically attack me for absolutely no reason. His chosen vehicle was social media.

Long story short, this guy was angrily and very passionately assuming things about me that were false. Throwing curse words around, calling me a 'fucking bitch' and 'fake' (a term I most like to identify with 7th graders), for reasons he whole heartedly believed in. Or, so it seemed.

I have to assume so, because my very first thought was, "...What?" & my second, " does someone get this upset about virtually nothing?"

What makes people so passionately and loudly stand in whichever corner they stand in? Against people they don't know well enough or deeply enough to make any accusations? 

I analyze. In a safe, "Hmm" kind of way.

I don't understand people like that.

Understanding safety is always #1, I called my lawyer and several friends I have in law enforcement and made them aware of this person. They told me all the preventative/appropriate steps to take, which I did, and they've got a car patrolling around my block for awhile. (I love my friends.)

What they all said, however, which was interesting, was, "That's someone who obviously has a screw loose, and wants attention."

Which led me to think, "Why would someone want attention that way?"

There are a million wonderful, positive, loving things people can do for 'attention'. A positive word, a meaningful and compassionate question... I don't get it.

Another cop said to me, "Some men get crazy when women deny them. Did you deny him?" Which even further angers me on behalf of all women who have been met by violence and abuse (physical & verbal) by men they weren't interested in. No, I was/am in no way/shape/form interested in this assailant. Nor do I truly have any clue who it is. 

Why, for anyone, would you get upset if someone denies you? Why? I don't get it.

Why wouldn't someone be like, "Oh. Oh well! I shall move onto someone who actually wants to be with me." Why wouldn't someone positively and peacefully, not without appropriately do that? Why do some stay fixated on people who want nothing to do with them? Therefore not only abusing that person, but themselves?

I don't get it.

So few people really understand peace. Not fighting an issue, but peacefully walking past it and never looking back. Not letting anything bother them.

I don't understand how so many allow such small things to upset them. How does this happen to so many people?

This angry dude was obviously ticked off by something small, worthless, not worth it, and totally not important. Something he took so much personal offense to, he verbally attacks me? That's crazy to me. This guy, again, not only had no idea what he was talking about - but took those false assumptions and blew them way out of proportion. 

I've had some crazy fans... But, that's what comes with being a women in this industry I guess. Especially independent film. You're seen as even more 'attainable' since it's less 'untouchable' than studio level work. Which is very ignorant and naive.

I've had men propose to me thru Facebook, email and so forth. I've had men ask for dates, comment very vulgar things that I've deleted. I've had men get angry and nasty when I've said no, and somehow they don't understand my social networks are a place for my work - and friends/fans. 

If I wanted to date someone/meet someone, I would be the one to say so - and I would put a link up somewhere to a dating site I was on. 

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, so forth, are not dating sites people. Just to be clear. 

Can I find an all female fan base? What do I have to do to become a face that primarily teenage girls identify with? lol!

I don't run from things. I don't move if pushed. I don't assault back. 

But I do contemplate.

What makes people do what they do?

Especially people that have no personal relationship with the other person? That's sick, and delusional. Which is where safety comes in.

When people think they have come 'connection', some 'relationship' with you - out of thin air - or because of some posts somewhere online - that's very, very sick and insane.

This person had to have assumed there was some foundation to get to passionately upset. Which is looney toon.

People can say whatever they want to me, I don't bother to bother myself unless they mean a great deal to me. Deeply. Personally. For real. Which is why this is interesting to me.

As is the whole fan/fame thing. It's all hilarious to me. People who don't understand this person is working, and regardless what they have out - they're not your friend. They're not personally in your life. 

Most things I do, honestly, is for my own documentation. That, and for my kids when I have them someday. Also, for work. So business professionals can look at all of if and get a good sense of who I am as a human being, and a professional. Yes, all of it. 

Also, because the one person who is inspired to make a positive and uplifting change because of something I have fought thru. 

That's really it. 

I don't care how many followers or whatever I have on anything. I see all the stats, I know people are watching/viewing/clicking/reading. I don't aim to have 3,000 comments or whatever on things. It just is what it is.

I'd rather be known for the positive actions I perform, or the cause I uplift in the name of peace, before I would want to be known for 'name' and 'fame' alone.

I don't know how it got from crazy person to there, but... There it is.

So yeah, just musing. 
I don't get people like that dude.

Or any other banana out there. Male or female. 

Why anyone would bother themselves with someone else and get themselves so worked up is beyond me. Stress is a no-no in my life, on all levels. Why would anyone work themselves into a frenzy about someone, especially someone they don't know personally? 

Why do people pine after people who have no interest in them?

There are tons of other people out there who will want to be with you. 

Why do people assume they know things they don't, and violently throw them at people?

They're not in the persons life. They have no real idea of what goes on at all. 

Why do people care so much about the actions of others?

Who gives a shit. Someone says something, someone does something... Oh well. Move along and be peaceful. Don't dwell in upset. Find love and positivity other places. Don't bother with it at all. Drop it.

Why do people assume they know people they don't know? Sometimes, to the insane degree of stalking - or the other side, fighting for them in a real way?

It's one thing if someone needs protection. Help, assistance in a positive way. It's another to assume someone is your BFF because they responded to a couple posts or whatever. To get angry at people that truly don't care about you in any personal way. 

I think everyone should evaluate their sanity. 


Are you acting crazy?

Is what you're thinking bananas?

Do you know you've got screws loose?

Go fix that shit.

There's people who spent tons of money and went to school for years to help you.

Why would some dude propose to me 100 times on Facebook?

Why would some old dude follow me around Greenfield Village?

Why would someone ask me on a date via Twitter, then Facebook, then YouTube? 

Why would some dude start screaming things he thinks are facts about me at me, then follow me to other social media pages to keep doing it once I block him on the one he was just assaulting me on?

Professionals are different, I think. Or I have found, anyhow. People in the industry just get this, and we're more likely to sit down with each other and meet up. We can trace back who the other person is, extensively, and probably know someone else who knows them. 

I've had the pleasure of sitting down and talking to very well known, well versed people in my industry because I reached out on these beautiful interwebs. So, it's not all to be poo-poo'ed and dismissed. 

One insanely well known person I sat down with told me, "Please don't post the location or anything anywhere on social media." He didn't even have to tell me that, I already knew. Because I get that. But I told him, "Oh no worries, I would never."

Because of that trust, my basic common sense and lack of the bad kind of crazy, I've been able to build solid foundations with some really wonderful people. 

They know they can text or call about things and it never goes anywhere. They know I won't use their names in places like this, and I would of course never give out their numbers or where they lived or anything like that. 

Believe that if I was less of a person, there is a hell of a lot that I could take to any number of tabloid magazines and get a shit ton of money for. 

Some things, quite honestly, I could live without knowing. 

But - I get it. Especially in this industry, there's a very dismal number of people who get what you do that you can actually trust with personal information or anything else. I've been told, "People just know you're safe." I pride myself on that. 

But it's also for work, and business. Not some weird/angry/freaky social call. 

Random people just being mean and asking for dates? Yeah, no. Bananas.

So - evaluate your crazy.

& I would like more female fans please. More teenage girls, anyhow. 

(That doesn't sound creepy or anything...)

Peace and positivity to all!

Go live your own lives, folks. Don't tie yourselves up with anger/passion/whatever else in the lives/problems of people you don't even know.


Stress, anger, hostility, being a nut job isn't worth it. 

Live YOUR best life. 
Don't worry about who you think should be doing what.

That's really the key to life.

Don't worry about other people. Don't.

Worry about you. 

Your choices.

Make sure YOU are always doing what's right, what's positive. 

Other people? They'll figure it out on their own. 

Live YOUR best life. 

Be good to others. Treat people how you want to be treated...

...& don't be crazy. *wink*

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Merry Christmas!

My friends and I made a fun video for everyone for Christmas!

Give it a watch, RT, share, etc!

Paula Bel is one of my absolute favorite comics. If Paula Bel likes it, you know you'll like it! (Thanks again, Paula!)

Merry Christmas everyone! 

Monday, December 22, 2014

Tis the season

Whenever I'm forced (I say 'forced' because if I didn't go there would be endless, "Who does she think she is" conversations thrown at me) to go to any 'family' gathering... I cringe.

I can't wait till the day when I have a boyfriend/husband/kids, and I won't have to go. "Sorry! Going to the husbands/taking the kids <location>!"

I am usually told, "You think you're better than everyone." I always have been. But since my personal and private recovery, all that, I'm told that much more often whenever confrontation arises.

Just the other day, I got into yet another altercation with my mother. Who only ever repeats what I say. 

I said, "What is your problem?"

She said, "What is YOUR problem?!"


"Yes, really."

"You're seriously going to take this banter in that direction?"

"Oh look at you, 'this banter', you think you're sooooooo smart!"

I sighed and just walked away. The whole distance back to my room I heard her still yelling. Things like, "Yeah you just walk away whenever I have something to say! Go ahead! You say a ton but can't listen to anything!"

So I yelled back, "You aren't saying anything!"

I do hate family gatherings.

I must admit - I am better than no one. Generally speaking. On a human level. We're all human beings, souls, living a journey. But, I am light years better than most of these idiots.

My mother is a level 10 OCD person. She's forever stressed and full of anxiety, making every problem that isn't a big deal a huge one. Things that shouldn't stress her out, do. She complains about almost everything. 

I don't ever have any conversation with her, any conversation, besides surface ones. 

I've tried to say things like, "It's really not worth stressing yourself over." And she gets very angry, "Don't you tell me what I should feel!"

...Okay... Sorry?

"You have no idea! It is a big deal!" No, it really isn't. "Well if that's how you chose to live..." - "I AM NOT CHOSING THIS!" 


My father is an alcoholic with a porn addiction and severe anger issues. You can hear his porn blasting thru the whole house at any given time of the day. He has never bothered to hide it. I remember being small, maybe 5 or 6, and wandering into his office - doors open - to see him and his porn.

My siblings are all high strung, self obsessed fashionistas/ego maniacs. They love giving me 'dating advice' which I didn't ask for. They're either jumping from person to person to person on a weekly basis, or dating a dude who dropped out of college and lives in his parents basement and grows/smokes pot all damn day, or finds their worth in sex and sleeping with whoever thinks they're pretty - regardless how many times they've openly cheated on them.

One aunt is a pill popping, anti-social, mentally 16 year old adult. One is dead from complications with shooting drugs. The other aunt is dead... It doesn't get any better the longer I keep going with them...

One uncle is a mean, nasty, evil, vindictive gay man who thrives on doing harm to others. I'm not kidding. He's stolen from me, he's lied to people about me, he's told me I'm useless and irritating... Those all happened before I turned 16. Most I remember from childhood. It's just gotten worse. 

When I was little, he told me how much he hated children several times. Staying the night with him was a literal nightmare. He is honestly the male version of Joan Crawford. 

Not kidding. 

His partner is just as useless. He sits by and lets him do these horrible things to mostly me. But, he's done it to everyone. He says nothing to him, just watches him do it then later will appear and try to have some talk (he used to be a counselor, shocker) about, "What behavior of yours do you believe contributed?" Bitch! I'm 8! 

And because I'm the only one who has ever jumped in either of their faces and told either one they're a useless piece of shit after my one uncle stole some things my Grandpa had left for me after he passed, I'm the horrible one.

Yes. My Grandpa left me things when he passed away, and these adults stole them from me. 

No, I'm not kidding.

They also stole a bunch of things my Grandpa and I had. Together. DVDs I bought him that we watched, pictures, clothes... List goes on. 

My parents sit by and let it all happen, too. When I stand up for myself, I'm told to, "Sit down and be quiet. Stop that."

My other uncle is dead, another one is a pill popping addict well into his 60s living off money my grandmother sends him every month.

Then, there's me. 

They all think I'm the nut job. 

The only decent people are my 100% Italian grandparents. 

The one grandmother is in a senior home and can't even hear or see anymore. 

The one grandfather died a couple years ago. 

Fuck me.

I just sit in a corner, silent, and observe. 

I say really nothing. There's nothing to say. I don't know how to converse with these people. 

Sounds bad, but they're not on my level.

None of them. 

I would hang out with my Grandpa, who also stayed the hell away from them. But, he's been gone for a couple years now. 

I don't even like being in the same room with any of them. 

The energy is weird. They complain and bitch. They all secretly hate each other, of have unrealistic expectations of everyone else. Ideas of what kind of picket fence relationship they want, but are too broken to ever attain it. 

None of them know they have to start inside.

I can't participate in negative energy, conversations or atmospheres. 

But, that makes me the crazy one. 

My sister just got into a miraculous argument with me. She knew who she was buying for, and - every year - waits till the last min and freaks out. She spends upwards of $300 on her stupid boyfriend, then flips when she's broke and can't get for anyone else. 

Every. Year.

"How much did you spend, April?"

"I don't know. I shopped a long time ago."

"You seriously don't know how much you spent?"

"No, I don't."

"Oh my god!"

"Well, I got <list everything I got>."

"That doesn't help me."

"Maybe if you didn't spend so much on your boyfriend and spent a little more on the other people this wouldn't always happen."

"God, you are such a bitch! He has nothing to do with this! You always turn a simple argument into a stupid disagreement!"

..... Really? 

I literally sat there silent. I can't even process that thought process. 

"Well, I don't know why you always jump to being offended. I wasn't trying to do that. Just trying to help you figure out an apparently continual stressful situation."

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot."


I just turned and left.

I don't get any of these people.

Literally, the only thing - the ONLY thing - I share with these people, or have in common with any of them, is blood.

I'm convinced I'm adopted. Seriously. 

My parents have even always played favorites. Myself being the least favorite. 

Both of my parents are the youngest sibling in their homes, so they favor the younger ones. 

Outside of that, they're more put off by my seriousness and tone than what I actually say. If I whisper and smile, I could be telling them to kill themselves and they wouldn't get that angry.

My siblings all talk like idiots. The, "Like, totally, like, no way!" Same pitch and everything you would assume. So, they say and do whatever and they're not taken seriously. Never have been. 

Me? One glance and I'm screamed at.

Never understood that.

My mother told me once, "You're serious when you talk. You mean what you say. So, we get angry. The other ones? They're more cute and little, so, we don't really get bothered by it."

... What?! 

It's dysfunction, everywhere. 

And I don't like being a part of it. 

So, I keep to myself. 

It's very difficult to stay centered and positive in my 'higher self', to be happy and all that, when the sheer ignorance and stupidity around me makes me want to rip my hair out. 

I don't understand these kinds of people.

But, in another aspect - I'm playing life on 'Expert' mode.

This portion, anyways. With staying centered and happy. 

I live for peace, happiness, calm and intelligent conversations. Not without fun, play, and light hearted joking. Sometimes, vulgar funny and shades between.

Nothing like these people, the people I grew up with.

I almost self imploded in my childhood. Almost. The weight of it all was packed so heavily on me that the only peace I saw was death. 

Now, I see it all from a place I never thought I would. 

I overcame. I rose above everything they still are.

To me, ignorance to it all wasn't bliss. It was self injury, addiction, so forth. 

Now, the knowledge is maddening. Makes me crazy. 

If they only appreciated just how much I keep my mouth shut, they'd surely be glad. 

I'm nothing like these people. Not at all. 

I laugh, I joke, I play. I love hard, and love to cuddle. I say, "I love you" all the time to people I love and I mean it. I hug strangers, I genuinely enjoy my life and my work. I am at peace with almost everything about myself, I know exactly what I want and either work for it/wait for it. 

But, with them, I'm silent and keep to myself. 

They don't even really know who I am.

They all, every single one of them, parents and grandparents, cousins - aunts - uncles - they all have Facebook, social media accounts, everything. Not a single one follows me, reads a damn thing, has any idea what I'm up to or what I've done. They don't ask, they don't wonder, they don't check. 

Never have. 

Not that I care. I truly, deeply don't. It's just odd. I know I'd want to keep tabs on my kid/grandkids/niece, etc. Just, odd. 


I'll be a bomb ass parent someday. 

If I had a nickel for how many times I wanted, with every fiber of my being, to stand up and scream, "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING IDIOTS!", I'd have a shit load of money. 

...Welp, you know what they say...

Tis the season. 


Sunday, December 21, 2014

When you meet someone...

When you meet someone, do this.

Do this and see if you still want to be their friend. To have them in your life.


Saturday, December 20, 2014


I am so blessed to have wonderful people in my life. 

Don't ever take people for granted. Especially when they're amazing, & they've put you in their story.

Forever appreciate them willingly being a part of yours.

I love you, sunshine. You know who you are. 

Monday, December 15, 2014


The other day, I met a beautiful young girl named Carlee.

She was murdered by her ex-boyfriend when she was 16. 

There are a ton of details I won't go into that she shared with me - the only thing that matters is the two boys responsible for her death are currently serving life. Or, 25-life. They're convicted. 

I believe her case is the only one in Michigan that had a conviction (based on confessions) without a body. 

Her body still hasn't been found.

She hasn't given me anything insane and no I'm not working with anyone. I just think she's introducing herself to me, or, something like, "Hey this is who I am!" Or something. 

From what I've looked up about it after meeting her, it's been insanely accurate. Minus the fact that she showed me a blonde when she talked to me. Maybe that was a parent? Maybe she was at the time? When I looked her up, she was brunette. 

But, everything else was dead on. 
Eh, no pun intended. 

Long story short, she said to me, "Something told me not to go. Not to leave. I didn't listen to my gut - I didn't even know what a gut feeling was, really."

I think, if anything, maybe her message is to always listen to your gut. Your intuition.

I can't really get beyond the basics with her, so I assume that was it. And she wanted me to share? I've never had this happen before, so it could be just a 'little by little' tester, too. For me. 

I'm babbling - damn - the point is, she is a beautiful girl. She really thought she was safe, she was loved, with her boyfriend and his friend. 

She wasn't. And something in her gut told her that... But she didn't listen.

When I say this stuff is confusing, it is. No wonder why professionals ask people shit like they're putting a puzzle together. It's hard, and very confusing. 

It was like my thoughts, my 'daydreamed images', which made it very hard to distinguish. I just kept saying what was coming into my head, not caring if it was wrong, and it all ended up being right. 

Shocked the shit out of myself.

The longer I did it, the more I got. 

So, if you're someone else out there going thru this... You're not alone. LOL


She's a super sweet girl who is a little shy and just made the wrong choice. The people involved will, no doubt, get what's coming to them. In the universe/karma way, anyhow. Which is the only thing that matters. 

It's really sad, and it hurts my heart, but it was good to have met her. 

It's a reminder to be grateful for everything. Every moment. 

And to always, ALWAYS, listen to the small whispers. 

So, yeah.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be typing, but I feel that it's important to put this somewhere. And my dream/vision/whatever journal is getting pretty packed, so... *wink*

Rest in peace, beautiful angel. 

Saturday, December 13, 2014


My mother calls me.

I hear yelling, cursing, shattering of glass & more in the background.

"What's wrong?"

She sighed. The 'same shit different day' sigh. "Your dad is drunk again."

Again. She means, 'as usual'.

"I'm on my way."

"No, April... That's stupid."

"See you in afew."

I wouldn't go except - well - I am terrified that in an angry, drunken rage, that one day... He could kill her.

For her to deny that is denial. The same denial she's grown comfortable with since my birth. Probably before.

Upon my arrival, I see my Dad. Trying to drunkenly back a car of of the driveway. 

"Get back inside. Stop acting like a child."

He goes to the front of the house to go back inside, kicks some cans over my Mom has placed there, and slams the door.

I walk in behind him and find a laptop - his laptop - shattered. In pieces. A huge dent in the wall, and pieces everywhere. 

I go back outside to the garage, garbage cans are knocked over. There's a huge dent in the wall. Shit has obviously been knocked and kicked around.

My mom is just sitting there. Silent.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to clean."

"No, don't you dare pick all of this up."

"For God sakes, April, leave it alone."

She left, and went toward the front of the house to go inside. Taking my advice.

I left it as it was, and went back inside.

My youngest sister wasn't home, she was at her friends house. I text her and told her to stay there.

"Who are you texting? Your sister?"

"Yes. Telling her not to come home."

Even as we hear more glass shattering upstairs, she gets angry and says to me, "Why the hell would you do that? She's an adult, it's fine. You always make things worse than they need to be."

I stare at her. Dumbfounded. 

Just then, here comes Dad. Bright red with alcohol and rage. Fists clenched as he stares us down. 

You haven't seen pure evil until he has looked at you when he's angry. 

He walks back outside. Slamming the door.

"He's so violent. He isn't getting another laptop, that's for damn sure."

This isn't the first laptop/TV/cellphone/home appliance he has destroyed.

(His laptop in pieces he threw into a pile.)

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. He just started throwing things around. Did you send that text?"


"My God, April."

"I seriously can't understand why that's a problem. Why should she be here?"

"Just, stop, okay. Stop."

It was in that moment that I looked around - at all the broken things. Pieces everywhere. Hearing the door slam almost off its hinges as he came back inside, went upstairs and began slamming more things around. Screaming profanities. That I listened to her scold me for having my sisters well being in mind that I realized...

...what a broken bunch of douchebags.

I've given my Dad more self help books in my days than I know what to do with. I've tried to help him help himself.

My Mom watches more Oprah than even I know what to do with. She should know better, on every level.

They both should.

But they don't. 

They're two broken, misguided human beings who have never even tried to fix their lives. Ever.

And two broken, misguided human beings attempted to raise children. 

For myself, it wasn't pretty.

Raising myself wasn't easy. Technically, Jonathan raised me so - I wasn't alone. Not spiritually anyways. There's blessing in that.

But as a child, living in this... It was horrible.

There's reason I tell you this. Whoever you are.

If you're a kid, like I was, growing up in this... I promise you, you will either become them - or overcome them.

Especially with the Christmas memorial for Kyle this week, things like this infuriate me. 

I have to go sit in a room with families sobbing, memorializing their children that have died, and this is happening. In my parents home. 

To this day, I don't believe my parents ever really knew just exactly how bad I was. How close I came to making them parents who have lost a child by their child's own hand.

I don't understand this chaos. 

As I sit here, now, in my room still downstairs in their house... I can't process any of it.

Who are these people? Who am I? How did I overcome this?

I have no idea. But, I did. 

And you can, too.

Realize that one day you'll be able to leave and never go back. Sometimes, that's all it takes.

It's pretty funny now. How sometimes, I'll remind people that he's always been this way. He abused me, so on and so forth. Still, people deny it. Act like every time, this is something new. 

Like they're surprised.

Every time.

How one very small glance or word or breath in his direction he doesn't like can turn into this.

It's always been this way. 

Only, it use to be directed at me. 

I use to be the reason. The excuse. Because I've never been able to ignore these things. Especially when I was younger, I would have started flipping out too. "What the fuck is your problem?!"

That's all it took to make it all my problem.

It's funny, how I love both of my parents. The good, and the bad, thru it anyways. Because I respect who they are as human beings, as flawed as they may be.

But what I will never truly have for them, is respect. In any form.

As horrible as that may be, I don't.

That was never present. The smoke of that candle has long since left the room.

Now, I just feel sorry for them. Both of them. 

All of them.

How I may have been handed, at the time, the absolute worst hand. But on my own, independent, I turned out to be the exact opposite of everything I deem to be wrong with them. 

Even now, I still hear banging. Cursing. Breaking. 

Damn. Go me.

I survived this, and didn't become it. Or let it own me.

I never thought I would be where I am today. Never. Not in a million years.

I thought I would be dead by now. Really. 

I'm alive. And even in this horrifying environment... I know I'm perfect, and I know I'm happy. 

Most importantly,

I know - deep down - my parents, both, know they've made some big mistakes. They're both hurting, they're both unhappy, and they're both human.

They're both stuck in cycles of shit so big they'll never escape. 

My Dad's always been cool with my ghost stuff, and I told him once I saw his Dad (passed for several years) sitting beside him while he slept. My Grandpa told me, "Give up, April. He's going to destroy himself and there's nothing you can do about it."

I told him, and he was in awe but... Nothing changed. 

He has successfully become a worse version of the man he hated.

How horrible. 

I feel bad for him.

My Mom is so dependent on him and what he has that she can never go be by herself. She doesn't know how. 

I feel worse for her.

Everything aside, it doesn't matter if they're Mom and Dad to me. Not at all. 

They're human beings with a lesson they need to learn.

Apparently, they haven't learned it yet.

And I am, in no way, a part of that lesson. 

Sucks to watch, but - this isn't for me to learn. Or deal with. 

It's so other people can grow. Can overcome. 

If they ever figure it out, anyways.

Even in the dissipating problem, the air feels like it's full of current. Energizing. Dangerous. Current running thru the house, and walking anywhere is to see the rubble of broken people at every turn.


Not being able to sleep, still too worried to leave my Mom, I sit awake. Make hot chocolate while 'fuck's and 'God dammit's fly overhead... And think. 

So, if you're like me - and you grew up in this stuff... One day, it'll get better. 

One day, it won't bother you.

One day, it'll be far far away from you.

One day, you'll look back and think, "Wow. I made it."

And it'll feel pretty awesome. 


Appreciating Life

Have you ever felt a pain so deep and so horrifying lodged in the depth of your chest that nothing you do will make it go away?

That sometimes seems vacant - but really, it's because you're not thinking about it. Because you figured out how to bypass it completely.

If you really stopped and processed it, it would do more harm than any good?

Some days you can, and it's okay. Most days, you can't touch it?

I miss Kyle so much.

I miss Jared so much.

I miss Megan so much.

I miss Luke so much.

....too much loss. Too much.

Having memories so meaningful attached to people who are no longer here.... Hurts. A lot.

There's a reason I'm so big on people. On reaching out. Taking chances. Connecting. Making friends.

Because I have lost so many.

Because I never imagined, ever, at this age, I would ever look into the eyes of Ashley. Candiss. Tina. Talk to Boss. Nikita. DaVaughn.... And think, feel so deeply, "I am so grateful to have this person in my life."

"I am so grateful to have a friend."

"I am so grateful I have taken chances, and connected."

Some have been risky. Some haven't worked out at all. Some have came with a little work. Some have royally fucked me over/played me/used me. 

That's not to say they've all been that way. Bad. No, no. 

Most of my friendships have been joyfully rewarding. Especially the friendships in the people I've lost. 

It doesn't matter how many end up sucking. Ever. I never stop grabbing the line. Making a connection with cool people, people who touch my soul. No matter who they are. Where they are. What they do, don't do, can or can't do. 

Male. Female. Young. Old. 

Doesn't matter. 


Because I've been to too many funerals.

Because I have buried too many of my people.

Because one of my deepest connections is battling an eating disorder. Again. 

Because another of my deepest connections has basically given her life to alcoholism. Again. 

Because I'm the sober one now. The clean one now. The SI-free one now. 

Because everyone always looks to me for help. 

Because I told my friend battling her eating disorder, "I love you so much, but I can't watch someone else die. I can't bury another friend."

Because people don't fucking understand how deeply or profoundly anyone really hurts. 

Because people might know it happens, but they've never been to funerals because of it.

Because I honestly can not bury anyone else. I can't.

With every addiction, every person I watch struggle, everyone I keep helping to pull up in any way I can... I die a little inside.

Because I've already buried too many. 

Because I know what it's like to look someone in the eye, tell them you love them, hug them, cry with them, beg them to get better, cry and plead and scream and yell...

...then, to have to attend their funeral.

Because I know what it's like to have someone look me in the eyes, very honest and convincingly, and promise me they would never ever do anything to themself...

...then, to have them do it anyways.


Because I threw myself on top of Kyle. Clutching to him. Crying. Sobbing. Holding his hand. Begging him to please find happiness. 

Because I screamed, full volume. Angry and enraged and pained and at a loss for any other method to help him.

Because he killed himself, anyways.

Because I know if it hurts me this bad, I can't even imagine the pain of all of their families. 

I don't feel as ran over by it all anymore.

I remember after Kyle killed himself, maybe a couple days or a week or so later... I was taking a shower, and I had to get out. Sit on the floor, and cry. 

I tried sitting down in the shower, and that hurt. Couldn't do it.

I just let the shower run, and sobbed.

Because it's not even just pain. It's all of my fucking addictions on top of it all.

I looked for alcohol. A razor. Something to just make it all stop.

But wait - I'm sober, clean now... I can't do those things. 

Because I thought the pain was bad when I tried to kill myself all those years ago.

I didn't know pain at all. 

I hadn't been faced with this deep pain in my entire life.

Then, my Grandpa died. Then, Jared jumped off that building.

Every time...

..."I had no idea what pain really was."

I wish I had never found out.

I realized just how important people were. Dreamers, people who weren't acknowledged. How important it was to take chances on people.

Somehow, tho, I have a deep sliver of worry somewhere that makes me hesitate to get close to anyone else.

I can't handle someone else dying.

I can't.

This week, I have to go to a Christmas memorial for parents who have lost children. 

Kyle is being memorialized there.

I'm going with his family. 

And you know what?

As I tried to figure out what to wear, I had a fleeting thought, "It doesn't fucking matter."

Nothing matters as much as the lives that were lost.

No career, no tangible object, nothing at all matters as much as people. Human beings. Connection. Life. The story. The fire, passion, that is a soul. A dream. 

I can go in pajamas. If doesn't fucking matter.

Kyle just had 'I'll be watching you' come onto a rap station on my Pandora.


God, this is so hard. 

If only people knew how unimportant most things were in the grand scheme of things. 

I was supposed to be writing scripts and making movies with him. Not going to a fucking Christmas memorial.

How do people not take chances on people? How do people stay stuck? How? How does such little things mean such a big deal to people?

All questions I've deeply explored in the face of so much death. 

I've questioned everything I am, thought, believed and do/did since their suicides.

Plus, now, I'm designated the official ruler over what happens with some of their work. Scripts and such.

People are looking to me. The one to carry their dreams to reality, in their memory.

Now he played 'Bittersweet Symphony'. 


One thing a friend said to me a bit ago sticks with me. She's 60, she's gone thru stuff in her life, and she said to me over dinner one night, "I have no idea how you're still standing. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met."

That's one thing to remind myself, I suppose. 

No one knows how much it hurts. 

No one knows how hard it is to smile or laugh, or why I force myself to do so.

No one knows, behind the laughs or smiles or anger, how deep the grief continues to run.

No one knows. 

And my God, I pray that no one ever has to be in this position. I pray that no one ever says to me, and really means, "I understand."

I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

It's why stupid, mundane, nonsensical bullshit that upsets people and acts as their excuses for things like depression or whatever makes me furious.

It's why when people who have abusive parents or have had them or have been called a name or whatever and say, "You just don't understand" makes me white hot with rage.

No - YOU don't understand.

They have never, ever seen a parent literally crumble to the floor - screaming and crying - as their child lays in the casket before them.

They have never, ever had a father clutch them, sobbing, asking, "Why did God take my little girl?"

They have never, ever, had to look in the face of someone that is basically their mother after she has identified her son at the fucking morgue.

They have never, ever, had to get the phone calls telling them the people they loved and cared about the absolute most were dead. Most, by their own hands.


Their recovery and sobriety has never been in question because of the insane and repetitive pain of loss after loss after loss.

They didn't cry themselves to sleep not because of their own pain, but the pain of losing someone they loved the exact same way they had wanted to kill themselves.

...then, feel embarrassed for having ever attempted suicide. Because now, it's showing the complete other side of it.

I hate, I HATE, when people say, "You don't understand."

"You haven't been where I am."

"You don't get it."

Pain is universal. Different levels, yes. Different reasons, yes. Different ways of showing it, yes. Different ways it effects someone, yes.

But pain is pain.

And if it's so bad that the thought of suicide/drugs/self injury is present as a result, then - yes. I do understand. I have been there.

Pain is still the root of the issue. 

Reasons people carry it, different. Ways it's released, different. 

But pain, is pain.

And when anyone is in that pain, it always feels like the absolute worst. Always. If any of the above are your 'ways thru/out', then yes - it's bad.

That sucks, and I'm sorry. I have been there. 

But they have no fucking idea how much worse it could be.

Blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Vine, all that aside... I am a pretty private person.

I aim to inspire. Change the life of that 1 person who stumbles across something and it hits home for a positive shift.

But what I never share, allow anyone to see, is how much pain I am usually battling.

Grief, is the better word.

Grief. Piled on top of addictions, and an insane career choice... Lots of battles is fight with myself every day. Often, more than once a day.

All of which I handle privately. Alone. Me and me only.

Because, let's face it, no one - or very few - have ever been where I sit.

The only people I know and would have trusted to help me were Kyle Linford and Jared Radtke.

Oh, surprise! They've both killed themselves!


No one picks anything up like they did. They just knew when something was wrong, or off. One glance and somehow they knew I was angry, or sad. 

No one else. Just them. So far, anyways.

I can do that for tons of other people. No one can do that with me.

Well, they could. They're just... Gone.

Not that I look for anyone else to handle/fix anything for me. Never have. I've always handled me because it's really always only been me. I'm not even sure I know how to let someone else try and help me. 


It's whatever. 

Point is: 

No one understands how truly precious or short life is.

No one understands why connection is so important, if you can.

No one... Just... I don't know.

I don't want to go to this memorial.

Because every year, all I want to do is curl up in a corner and cry. 

Because every year, every second is spent slyly making sure his family is okay instead of even thinking about myself. Then later, I have no idea what to do. But they're more important. 

Because every year, it's another reminder that he's gone. 

And he's never coming back.

Please realize that every life matters. Yours, the guy next door, the people you blow off, maybe someone trying to hang out, someone at work you're not feeling, someone you think is too nice... don't wanna have to hear that they died.

You don't.

Life can end in a flash. Lives you take for granted will just keep going.

You never know who is silently hurting, who won't say anything, who needs that connection, etc.

(Intuition and safety and stuff taken into consideration, of course.)

I just, I don't know.

I've seen too much death. Been to too many funerals. 

The only good thing that comes out of that?

Realizing how important life is.
People are.

Make sure that you make sure everyone feels seen. Heard. Recognized in your presence. All anyone really wants is to be seen and acknowledged. 

Even one small moment may change a life, and you would have had no idea. 

I suggest going to watch 'Girl, Interrupted'. Get deep into it. Then, don't turn away when Brittany Murphy's character kills herself. 

Watch while her body hangs there. Then, I want you to realize that that woman, Brittany Murphy, is dead. She died.

Realize all that, at once. 

Then, put someone you love and care about in that noose.

Then, put yourself on the floor flipping out. 

Then, put a couple more people you love and care about - in different situations - at different times - in different houses - in that noose. 

Then, in a casket.

Then place yourself in front of that casket. Looking down at your friend. 

Absorb that. 

Rewind it if you're bold. 

Can't find the movie? Don't own it? No Netflix? 

No worries, I have that clip for you right here. No excuses:

...any different for you now? When it's your friend? Someone you love? 


Examine how that all makes you feel. 

And ya know what else? 

After every loss - especially suicide - you're always left like this:

The beginning voiceover in this trailer is the most accurate thing I have ever heard. There is no way to relay how accurate it is:

Seeing death - really, truly seeing it - makes dreaming about it fucking ridiculous. 


So powerful. So real.

Well, I guess it would be. They made the film off a book from real accounts. 

The real Susanna knows. She, too, tried to kill herself. Then realized after Daisy's suicide just how fucking stupid that is. 

I guess there is someone else out there like me. 

*additional sigh* 

(Side note: If anyone ever cast me in any character like Lisa, that would certainly be my time to shine.

Appreciate everyone. Everything. 

My God, I miss them. All of them. 

I love you guys. I miss you all so, so much. 

Goodnight. XO