all y'all know that my code of honor is honesty, that i choose not to like to people. however, there are some things i haven't told you guys just because they haven't been brought up. one of these things is a suppressed memory that just came to me this morning, and it feels horrible. not everyone is perfect, we all make mistakes... especially when your drugged out parents don't teach you certain things are wrong. i just want to put out there some less than desirable things about me so that people look at me more like a human being than someone who is mildly popular on the internet.
so, the first and biggest one, the one that's probably the worst thing I've ever done to someone is the suppressed memory i mentioned. this is why i don't think young children should have pets. I'm going to repeat that this is HORRIBLE, and it makes me sick to remember it, and it's probably going to upset you, especially if you love animals. when i was like four or five, i was hanging out with the other young kids as our parents mingled... and by mingle, i mean that they were probably smoking pot and drinking. it was a small neighborhood, and they, being the responsible parents they were, let us run around unsupervised. now, i don't remember whose kitten it was, but we found a kitten and pretended we were a cult, and the kitten was evil, so it must be sacrificed. WE DID NOT KILL IT. i think it was a black kitten, so yeah... black cat=evil, you know. I'm so ashamed of what we did, and i wish that i had known better so i could stop it, but we had dunked the kitten in water to get it wet, and we walked down the street holding it over our heads, chanting about purifying the evil or something. no one saw us. no one knew. i told NO ONE. in fact, i think Michael is the first one i ever told of this, and that was today after i remembered this disgraceful event. i HATE myself for torturing that poor kitten. we did let it go, and other than being wet and traumatized, it was unharmed. i really hope that poor thing didn't grow up to hate humans. luckily, a year or so later was a blood moon, and i KNOW I've told this story. it's when i tried to ride a pitbull like a horse, and it turned around and bit my face. i still have the scar on my lip, which has sentimental value to me. after i was patched up, i pet the dog and apologized, and he really wasn't a violent dog at all. that was the day i learned the difference between a boy dog and a girl dog, and that was also the day i started to realize that animals needed respect too. well... except spiders...
erin had told me that, when she was a kid, she pulled the legs off of daddy long legs. i was like eight or nine, and i decided i wanted to do it too. i only did it to one or two spiders, but i was quick to learn that spiders and bugs felt pain just like us, that they were animals, so i stopped. that was the last time i TORTURED an animal.
i don't remember how old i was, i think around the same age. we were staying with one of erin's friends, and they had a big chocolate lab. he chewed on EVERYTHING, and when i saw he got ahold of my favorite toy, i kicked him. i kicked him harder than i meant, and it was also in the privates when i meant for it to be his stomach. the yell he made immediately made me feel guilty, and i sat on the floor next to him and pet him for a long time to tell him i was sorry. i will never forgive myself for that or the kitten incident.
I'd like to say that was the last time i hurt an animal, but when i was a preteen, i, for SOME reason, got into the habit of pulling one of my cat's whiskers out with tweezers. it had something to do with my trichotillomania. I'm not proud of that either, especially since whiskers are VERY important to many animals, and it hurt her.
i remember being fourteen and being a little too rough with our bunny, but i never hurt him. on my youtube channel, i shared a video from when i was this age, and i saw just how rough i was with the bunny, and i actually said to the me in the TV, "oh, be gentle!" i ADORED that bunny, so i don't understand why i was rough with him, especially since i was used to handling hamsters. ugh, i just got ANOTHER memory...
i used to blow into my hamsters' mouths to puff up their cheek pouches. this is one of the rare times erin was a mother and taught me right from wrong. she told me that blowing into them like that could burst the cheek pouches, or worse, burth their little lungs. so i stopped THAT immediately. god, i never realized how much i tortured animals until now, even when i loved them. that dog had taught me to respect animals more, but... maybe it has something to do with being made into a sociopath? i don't know, and i don't care, these actions were inexcusable, i should never be forgiven for them, but I'm 99.9% positive that was the last time i intentionally caused harm to an animal, even though i didn't think the blowing of hamster pouches was harmful. hey, erin... maybe I'd know better if you were more responsible. a twelve year old should know better than to do that.
but i grew into an extreme animal lover, the one i am now. i was much more gentle with my hamsters, and it seemed easier after custody of me was taken away from erin. i respected and loved my grandma's cat to the point that she would wait outside for me to come home from school. i DID kill spiders in the bath tub in unnecessarily saw-like ways... now i just pick them up (shaking with fear) in a tissue, say, "sorry buddy," and flush them down the toilet, same with other bugs... without the fear. i kind of have to because i don't know what they're capable of, and i don't know what they'd do to my rat. i admit i do have much less respect for insects and arachnids, but at least i don't go out of my way to step on them when walking outside.
okay, got all of the horror off my chest... well, i don't feel relieved, but we're moving on...
i have to shower with rubber gloves on because of something called tactile sensory defensiveness. do any of you find that your teeth hurt if you hear a nasty sound like a fork scratching on a plate? that's a form of it. for me, i can't stand liquid on the palms of my hands and undersides of my feet. when i was young, my hands and feet would be wrinkly from the water. i could put socks on my feet to comfort them, but I'd hold my fists tightly closed until they dried enough, and i couldn't touch anything. then i discovered that wearing fabric gloves soothed my palms like my socks did to my feet... so i NEVER. TOOK. THEM. OFF. i wore fabric gloves everywhere, all day, even when my teachers tried to tell me to take them off. it was because my hands would sweat, and that would trigger the sensory defensiveness when my palms were exposed to the air. eventually, i think when i lived with my dad for awhile, he got me to take them off and instead wear rubber gloves when taking a shower, saying he had to do the same thing. HE grew out of it, i didn't. this means i can't wash my hands. if it can't come off with hand sanitizer, i will QUICKLY wash with water and dash to dry them, but on a regular basis, I've never actually washed my hands, just used sanitizer. they say if you don't wash your hands all the time, you get sick... I've NEVER gotten sick by not washing my hands. however, i also trigger sensory defensiveness if i touch something too dirty or dusty, meaning i can't dig into dirt or anything without gloves. i HATE getting liquid on my hands, and even say "ew" automatically if i get even a droplet on my palms before shaking it off. "ew." as if it was something disgusting. there are certain things i hate touching, AND IF ANYONE TOUCHES MY BARE FEET, I FREAK OUT AND YELL AT THEM. it was a NIGHTMARE practicing pedicures in beauty school. however, I've been able to live with this pretty well. I'm glad i don't like swimming anymore.
I'm not as responsible with dental care as i should be.
when i was twelve, i stole some money from erin to pay for one last magazine so i could win the prize for reaching that number... it was a warm fuzzy with googly eyes and feet, something i could easily make myself. but the amount of money wasn't nearly as much as she stole from me.
every night since i could remember, i play little stories in my head until i fall asleep, and they continue every night like the tales of Scheherazade until the story gets boring, and they usually involve characters getting into sexual relationships. many of my stories have come from these nightly daydreams.
until i was in my late teens, i literally didn't think it was physically possible for old people to have sex.
i was TERRIFIED of learning about sex until i was thirteen.
i was so squeamish of blood and stuff, i couldn't even look at an illustrated diagram of the human heart without getting sick. in my teens, i grew out of it mostly, as i was in my gothic phase, was cutting myself due to depression, and was introduced to horror movies and games by my friend who was a HUGE horror junkie. i got more desensitized, but certain things still made me squeamish. it wasn't until about... 2014 or 15 that i watched the movie "Chain Letter," and the very last scene broke EVERYTHING. i wasn't afraid of death, my pain tolerance was now incredibly high (before it had been very low), and most of all, there's RARELY gore that makes me squirm... as long as it's human, i can't stand animal violence even in fiction, it makes me cry.
my best friend when i was a small child was Beetlejuice. a hybrid of all three powerpuff girls replaced him when i got to third grade. those are the only two imaginary friends i remember. Cherry doesn't really count.
i found a baby rodent that had drowned in a creek near the campsite i lived on. if was literally a newborn, no hair or anything. i took it with me and played with it like it was one of my dolls for a few hours until i went back out and buried it.
oh god... i just remembered something that i really don't think i want to share with you guys... yeah, i think we're done here.
i mostly wanted to share the animal abuse stories because of my permanent guilt about them, as well as to show to people who, for some reason, think I'm flawless that i have evil in me too, just like every human on this planet. my slate isn't perfectly clean. i just hope that you don't hold it against the present me, because this version of me has learned, has grown, and has realized that other animals are people too. i wouldn't even harm an animal if i was blindly enraged. actually, the last time i had a break down and was screaming from anger, i took Jerry out to set on my lap to STOP me from screaming. i wanted to punch holes in walls, but having jerry in these destructive hands helped to keep them restrained.
i overall cannot live happily without animals in my life. they even help to stem my social anxiety. if i see someone with an animal, like when they're walking their dog, i am able to ask them if i can pet them. there was one doggy that i wasn't allowed to pet, and her mom said that she was a victim of abuse and was scared of people if they got too close. she wasn't violent, she just didn't like other people touching her. she had PTSD, just like i do, so i understood. she met my eyes and i told her i was sorry, but she's safe now with her mommy, and we went on our way. however, i don't ask to pet service dogs because when they have that vest on, it automatically tells me that the dog is working.
i can't undo those horrible things, but at least I've developed into a person who CAN'T do those things ever again. I'm sorry. it had to be said, though. as a person who wishes she was perfect, these things drive me crazy, but some of my fans treat me like I'm perfect, and because i want to be perfect, i hate it because i know i can never achieve perfection. i just hope your opinion of me hasn't soured too much. as with a lot of problems with me, you can blame my parents, but i AM to blame for it too. i dunno. I'm unhappy.
(this journal has not been proofread or spell checked)
I forgot to add something. when I was ten, I tried to drown my best friend because she made me mad.