The Last Three Days


Hey guys, welcome back. I think I can call this the worst week of my life so far. I think that’s acceptable. Granted, nobody passed away in my family, but still plenty of things have happened.

Monday morning: panic attack. I know surprise surprise. I didn’t end up going to school, just stayed home and did a bit of make up work. At 4:00 my new math tutor came. Finally someone who is actually teaching me. That went well. But the whole day I had a weird feeling in my chest. I cannot for the life of me describe it, but it felt like my chest was heavy and light at the same time in an odd way.  That evening, my father put the tv on. The way he normally does. He put on a news channel we always watch and the headline I saw was enough to make my heart pound.

Bombing at a concert in Manchester.

Of course at that point it have just happened moments prior so there was no information. We switched between news channels for a good half hour looking for the ones with the most updated information. And it broke me. That photo they keep using, you probably know the one, of the girl hunched over, leaning on two other people with a bandaged leg and distressed look on her face. As we leaned more, I found out it was an Ariana Grande concert. That sent a shiver down my spine. A fan base of young children and teens filled that arena. Those kids who were at their first concert. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The dashcam video where you can hear the explosion replayed in my head over and over. The sounds of the screams and the images of people climbing over railings and running, trying desperately to get out. The video of the kids running down the staircase with a group of anxious parents waiting at the bottom broke me. All those parents, unsure if there child was alive or dead, but all they could do was wait.

Tuesday morning: panic attack. Worse this time. I paced around shaking my hands rubbing my legs, pulling at my hair. It seemed uncontrollable. I had to go to a lab and get blood work done. The thought of leaving the house made me want to scream. I cried and cried and finally made it to the car. I shook and looked around frantically for the entire ride. I didn’t say a single word in the lab. The Manchester story was on the news again. I tried not to listen. But there was nothing else to listen to. I started shaking. They called my name and I walked down the hallway with my head down. I still shook as I sat in the chair. The technician probably just though I was afraid of needles when in reality, I’m perfectly fine with them. I was supposed to go to school after the lab, couldn’t. I was scared to leave the house. But I forced myself to go to my 8th period orchestra class since our concert was that evening.

If you’ve never been in an orchestra you probably wouldn’t know that the better you are, the farther up and closer to the edge of the stage you sit. Now this works really well when it’s just the sixth grade orchestra but when it comes to the seventh and eighth, it work a bit differently. Usually it doesn’t matter how good you are as a seventh grader, only eighth graders get the outermost seats. That’s just the way it works. So when I found that my seat was the second row in and fourth one back, I was heartbroken. I turned to my right to congratulate whoever was sitting on the outside row. I figured that because my stand partner and I always had the outside seats, someone must have done really well this year. But what I saw crushed me, I was faced with two seventh graders. It was a given for us in seventh grade that we wouldn’t get the outermost seats because we were in seventh grade and it was the eighth graders last year. But all of the sudden that was different. My stand partner was completely livid and stormed up to the front of the stage to ask our teacher for an explination. That explination was, “well some of the seventh graders have worked so hard this year and they’ve really improved so I think they deserved it.”  But it never mattered how hard you worked as a seventh grader, you always knew you’d have to wait until eighth grade for those seats. I wasn’t mad at my teacher, but at myself. Had I not gotten the home instruction and just stayed in the regular school system for the year, maybe I would’ve gotten that seat. And not for nothing but I learned those concert songs in a week. I had finally found the time to practice and they were hard songs. I thought that deserved some recognition. Guess not. But regardless I played my heart out at my final concert with the only orchestra teacher I’ve ever known. It saddens me to think she won’t be my teacher next year.

Yesterday: once again, panic attack in the morning, no school. Spent the day sleeping, trying, and failing, not to panic anymore. Social studies tutoring was a bust. I got nothing done and cried after the tutor left. But I went to piano excited because I love piano so much. My teacher is amazing and it took so long for us to find a teacher at all. But when I got there and sat down to take my shoes off, she told my mother that she’s moving. To Nashville. I broke inside. Over the last week I’d perfected the pieces I’m playing for our recital but I couldn’t play them well because my heart felt heavy and my eyes were trying to hold back tears. I got home and sobbed, locking myself in my room for hours. Trying to piece things together.

And then this morning, I once again didn’t go in because of anxiety. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I HAVE to be in school but it’s so hard.

See ya soon!!!




Heartbreak sucks


Hey… its lyss and im back.. no distractions.. no boys.. just an update on life.  

4 months ago on the 18th of January a boy named Lucas asked me out. We had been talking for 2 weeks prior he admitted he liked me, he then lost his phone and i had to time think about things, i didnt like him at first. Granted he was tall and happened to be my first kiss in kindergarten but he had stuff going on in his life. Plus the first time i met him he had a mustache and i flipped my shit. But my friends told me he was so sweet and he would glo up and go date him. So i went on a wild goose chase to tell him i felt the same when in reality i think it was the pressure.

But i’m not gonna lie over the next 2 months i had really started to care for him. We had our first real kiss and i felt so good about our realtionship, about him. He was so sweet to me. 

3 months in and he started drifting a bit. I thought it was because his best friend BUT may i add who was also his ex girlfriend was diagnosed with depression and had just broken up with her long term boyfriend. He started slipping. Soon the texts got more brief, anytime i wanted to hang out he couldnt, no more cute little things to tell me how he felt. I was desperately chasing after him, while he was swooning off with his ex girlfriend. 

But i gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this wont change anything. Maybe i had to try harder. I asked him to hang out almost every week, then one night he ditched me for his ex. I told him to get back to me earlier that day if he wanted to see me. 

And when my friends asked him “why werent you hanging out with alyssa today??” He said he had no plans with me. 

4 months on Thursday. May 18th i was going to tell him how i felt. He had gotten his phone taken away so i ahd to tell him that i felt like he was putting his ex girlfriend before me, like i was nothing but a last thought in his mind in person. Our anniversary, and he didnt speak to me once. 

But he always came to my locker after 8th period. He always did. So i waited, and waited, and then i walked away. I walked down the hallways of my school to my bus in silence, i looked outside and he was with his ex girlfriend, laughing and he looked at me. I turned and walked.

Friday. May 19th. I told him to meet me at my locker before 4th period started. I was going to break up with him. “Okay” My class in 3rd period then went outside. And 4 minutes before the period ended i saw him outside his classroom while we were coming inside, he was taking a test. He saw me and didnt even smile. 

So i wait at my locker after the period ends and he never shows up. Fuming i go to his table and ask where he is. His ex tells me he went to the nurse. In the middle of lunch he comes back from the nurse and i go to his table and pull him out of the cafeteria. I tell him how i dont think im a priority in his life, and how he puts everybody else before me, and how i couldnt do this anymore. He told me he understood and asked if we could still be friends. We shook on it. Walking away i felt as if i was barely alive. Nana came over to me and i brushed her off. I walked past my table into the hallway and leaned over the garbage can. I was hyperventilating. Nana and Madeline found me in the hallway in the midst of a breakdown. And i had to pull myself together for the rest of the day. Then on the bus as i was beginning to feel a little better my friend tells me that his ex girlfriend told her that he was going to break up with me anyways.

When i got home i cried for hours. I cut all the shit he gave me up. I didnt eat i was too upset. What had I done to make him want to break up with me???? I tried to always be there. And in total honesty i blamed myself. There was nothing i couldve done to save that relationship. He didnt fight for me because he didnt want me. I spent my day with dani and Laura and i tried to make myself feel better but all it did was make me feel worse. I love them but i needed time to process it and i couldnt make jokes. I was out of it. 

But he couldve told me he had feelings for his ex. It was obvious. But miraculously he got his phone back yesterday and he was at his ex’s house. I honestly felt like i wanted to pass out. I dont know how to cope with this. And in all honesty i tried to be there. He didnt tell me anything. He didnt open up to me and i honestly felt worthless. 

But hey now i can focus on the blog. No distractions, no boys, only an update.


An Update


Hey guys, welcome back! I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve said that but I have an actual, good, legitimate excuse this time. I promise. Once you hear it you’ll understand.

Drumroll please.

*obnoxiously long drumroll*

I finally went back to school!

Thats right I’ve made my return everyone! Finally after a three month disappearance with no explination, I’m back with once again zero explination to anyone but one person.

I went back last Monday but then unfortunately got an awful cold that basically left me clinging to my bed for dear life. In fact I still have said cold now. (More about this cold and how embarrassing it is in a bit)

As of now I’m only going into school half days. After lunch I leave. But it’s fine. I’m okay with it for now. Next week I’m hoping to stay for another period after that.  I’m also returning to school for 8th period every other day for my orchestra class. My final concert with the only orchestra teacher I’ve ever known- who is absolutely wonderful by the way- is next Tuesday. I’m so sad to be leaving her because she’s been there for me through some of the hardest years in my life. She always makes me smile and feel confident in my music, even when I know I’m doing horrible. Hopefully I’ll be able to visit her when I’m in high school.

Anyway I’ve been working super hard to catch up on all my work. I’m finally replacing my math/science tutor with much better people. People who I know are amazing and will actually get me to where I need to be.

Finals are in about 5 weeks and I’m terrified. I get special accommodations if I want to use them. Separate testing location, extended time, etc. and if I don’t think I’m ready I can take them during the make up days the following week.

But what I’m most nervous for is my Spanish final. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I just haven’t been memorizing anything. I’ve been learning the material enough to take the test on it and move on. I’m so scared and I don’t know how I’m ever going to make up all my work AND take finals.

But back to my cold.

Because I’m near the end of it, it’s for the most part just a slightly congested nose and a cough.

“Oh Dani if it’s only that then what’s the big deal?”

Oh let me tell you.

This specific kind of cough is the kind you get because of a tickle in your throat. You know the one, you’ve had it. It’ll send you into an uncontrollable coughing fit either until the tickle goes away or you’re so embarrassed you want to implode.

During science on Monday, out of nowhere I start violently coughing. At first it’s quiet and I’m kind of controlling it. But it gets worse and worse until every time I take a breath I cough so loud that nobody can hear my teacher. By now I’m kind of crying from all the coughing and hiding behind my hair as I dig through my backpack desperately trying to find water. I take a sip and feel nothing. It didn’t help. By now my face is bright red, I’m sweating buckets, tears are streaming down my face and when I finally tuck my hair behind my ear and look up, half the class is staring at me. I was so embarrassed the I practically ran to second period, still coughing through the halls.

Then today, I was having such a coughing fit this morning that I couldn’t even go in. But I went for orchestra and everything was fine, until out of nowhere I start to cough uncontrollably.  It got so bad and went on for so long that my stand partner and closest friend in the class, started laughing at me and counting how many times I coughed. I was mortified and when I got to my bus I tried to find water, nothing. I forgot to pack water. I put a cough drop in my mouth and hoped for the best but I was still coughing when I got home.

Anyway I’m sure you’ll hear from Lyss soon since she has quite a bit to tell you but that’s all from me for now.

See ya soon!!!



He Was A Quiet Kid


He was a quiet kid, always had been. He roamed silently through the halls, avoiding eye contact with nearly everyone.

Recently though, as impossible as it seemed, he got more quiet.

Between classes, he now walked behind his friends instead of beside them. Each day he sat increasingly further from people at lunch.

And nobody seemed to care.

One Monday he returned home, the same as always. Happy. He put on a big smile and kissed his mother hello. He told her that he was tired and was going to take a nap.

He took the stairs up to his room two at a time, just the way he always had. When he reached the top his mother called after him, “Don’t forget your medication. ”

“I never do, mom”

And so he sat on his bed and picked up the plastic orange bottle on his nightstand. It had been refilled.

He took two pills and shut the light, lying down and closing his eyes. A moment later he sat up again and read the bottle. He read it again and again. Something written at the bottom of the label caught his eye.

Do not exceed your prescribed dose without consulting your doctor. If you do exceed your prescribed dose, seek medical help immediately. 

There was something about the immediate need for help after taking just one too many pills, he wasn’t sure what it was but he could not take his mind off it.

He thought about the recent weeks. The thoughts that had taken over his mind.

Maybe these will get me high. Maybe I won’t have to think about things if I’m high. 

Slowly he opened the bottle and swallowed another pill. And another. And another. Until the bottle that was supposed to last him the next two weeks was empty.

He lied back on his bed and closed his eyes, smiling. After a few minutes, he started to feel better. When he opened his eyes, the room seemed brighter, the world seemed happier.

How nice. He thought.

And slowly, he drifted off.

An hour passed, then two, and then his father returned home and dinner was ready. His mother climbed the stairs to her only sons bedroom to wake him.

She opened the door quietly to see him asleep on his bed. How peaceful he looked.  She smiled at her youngest child and walked across the room to his bed. She sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Honey, wake up. Dinner’s ready.”

He didn’t move.

“Sweetheart, come on.  I made your favorite!” She shook him gently.

Still he didn’t move.

“You’re scaring me honey, let’s go.”

She shook him again. Harder this time.

Frantically his mother looked around his room. And her eyes caught sight of an empty orange bottle on the nightstand beside her sleeping son.

“What did you do?!” She yelled.

She shook her son harder and then called for her husband.

By the time the ambulance had arrived, their son was gone.

Two days later and his whole family was dressed head to toe in black. One by one those who loved him walked up to his open casket to say their goodbyes.

Hundreds of teenagers filed in, one behind the other, until it seemed his entire school had showed up.

His devastated mother sat in the front, watching the people as they knelt down next to her son. Her eyes were puffy and her face was red.

As his classmates walked past her they each said how sorry they were. But all she could think about was that none of them had done anything to help her beloved son.

It didn’t have to end this way.

If only one of them had said that something with him seemed off. Or that he was now more quiet than usual. He would’ve been there.

If only one of them had asked how he was, if he was okay. He would’ve been there.

Three simple words can make all the difference. If someone seems off, something isn’t right. Even if they lie and tell you that they’re alright when they aren’t , showing you care can mean the world.

Just ask them. “Are you okay?”.

See ya soon!!!



Me And My Relationship With Death.


Hey guys, welcome back. As you can probably assume from the title, there has been yet another very unfortunate death in my family. And because of a combination of this and this weeks state exams that are messing up class schedules, I’m not going to be returning to school this week.

But I wanted to talk about death for a bit, however morbid it may be. Strap in because this is going to be quite the lengthy post.

The person who I’ve lost now passed yesterday and although I share almost everything with you guys, this is something that I’m just not ready to talk about and probably won’t be for a very long time.

Out of respect for their immediate family I’m not going to share with you why they passed or even my relationship to this person. All I’m going to say about it is that they were young, only in their late twenties, and it was very sudden.

I didn’t expect this at all. And this is unlike any other death I’ve had to deal with before. This came out of nowhere and I just can’t even wrap my mind around how this happened.

Whenever something major happens my mother will sit me and my brothers down and say “I have to tell you guys something.” Which she did today when my brothers got home. And my first response to this statement?

“Who died?”

I find it sad that I just expect that to be the case now. I felt the familiar pang in my chest and the burning sensation that radiates throughout my body. The second I saw my mother’s expression I just knew.

I was expecting it to be someone who I know is unhealthy or reckless. Somebody who I know could use some help sorting out some issues. But it wasn’t. It was somebody who I thought had everything going for them. Somebody I care so deeply about and have looked up to and related to on a personal level for so long.

And in that moment, I became numb.

I have a very specific way of dealing with death, at least emotionally. I know for a fact that I become an emotionless brick wall far a few days, usually up until the persons wake. I don’t cry unless I see someone else crying.

After I found out, I walked up to my room and just locked the door. I lied down on my bed in the dark and just thought that this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. There is no way that this happened.

And because I have no experience losing someone in this way I had no idea how to cope. I felt like vomitting and screaming and just imploding.

After a while of just wallowing around I sat up and began to contemplate life, the universe, what it means to die, the afterlife, etc. Which is something I find I always do when someone passes away. It seems dark and horrible but it helps me to cope in a strange way.

Finally I got tired of sitting in my room and went to the kitchen to make some tea. I sat on our back deck looking out into the woods and just thinking.

The last time I saw this person was at that wedding I went to. They passed away exactly a month after I last saw them. And I wish I knew that was the last time I’d see them. I wish I’d hugged them tighter. I wish I’d told them “I love you”.

When my mug was empty and the sun began to set, I made my way back to my bedroom and because I had no idea what else to do, I just paced around in a “v” shape for about an hour. Just thinking.

It still hasn’t hit me yet. I mean it did like a two ton truck, but not in the sense that I’ve fully realized that this person is gone forever. Whenever I hear the phone ring I can’t help but hope that it’s someone calling to tell us that they’re really okay and it was all a huge misunderstanding.

I know that I will realize they’re gone forever when I’m at the wake on thursday standing beside their open casket, saying my goodbyes.

My relationship with death is something both very interesting to me and something that is absolutely terrifying. I do except that one day we all eventually die and oddly enough I’m alright with that. Which is the part I find scary.

But when somebody dies, I find it hard to wrap my head around the fact that they just simply stopped existing.

I’m not a religious person and I’ve never truly practiced my religion so I really don’t know what the afterlife truly entails in that sense.

Personally, as a coping mechanism, I like to think that a couple different things happen. I like to imagine that everyone is immortalized in a star after they die. The thought that they become something so fascinating and beautiful is soothing.

I don’t believe in ghosts because from a scientific standpoint I don’t see how it’s possible. But I do like to imagine that when you pass away, there is an afterlife. In my image it’s exactly the same as earth. You live on the same street in the same house but not every home has someone there, not yet anyway.

I like to imagine that people in the afterlife take care of each other. That their deceased loved ones will rally around them to help them understand what’s happening.

Like when my great-aunt passed away in February, I liked to imagine her sitting in a small café with her two sisters who’d passed before her drinking coffee and laughing about their shared memories.

For this person, I like to imagine them reaching the afterlife to find their niece who passed away tragically mere months after she was born. I like to picture them scooping up a smiling baby and holding her close.

Something else I like to think happens is that when we go to visit the loved ones we’ve lost in graveyards, they can hear us.  They know we’ve visited and they understand what we tell them.

As for how I’m managing this, I don’t really know how to. I’m not supposed to tell anyone the details about this persons passing because the immediate family wants to keep it private but I can’t keep it bottled up. Eventually maybe I’ll be ready to talk about it but as of now, I have to deal with this on my own.

That’s how I deal with death. On my own, contemplating everything that means anything and what death even means. I’ll keep you updated as time goes on but as of now, I’m still trying to wrap my head around how this person can be gone

See ya soon!!!