Dear Alexa - Age 15

i. Your beauty does not come from what other people say about you, what any negative force in your mind tells you, or even how you style your hair or the clothes you wear. Beauty comes from who you are, and showing that to the world. If you think you look gorgeous in something your friends wouldn't dare be seen in, it doesn't matter, because they aren't wearing it. Embrace who you are, not who society, friends, or anyone else tells you to be.

ii. Attention from the preferred gender is fantastic, don't get me wrong, but attention should never go hand in hand with self worth. How much a teenage boy likes you or how much he texts you should never represent how much you love yourself. The boys I dated in my teenage years, even the older ones, were - at the time, of course - vital aspects of my life. Now, I look back at them all and even with the "but I KNOW they cared*" (*at the beginning, at least), it's blatantly obvious that they had little to know interest in me. I mean, honestly, I am so freaking glad the boys of my teenage years are so very, very far from my life now.

iii. Alcohol will not make you cool, it will make you do stupid things you won't remember. Drugs will not make you cool, you are gambling with a possibly life threatening addiction. Drunk driving is just plain moronic, and no, no one can do it "well enough to get home."

iv. Fight for friendships, not for social status. True friends won't care about anything other than your well being and happiness.

v. Stand your ground, be confident in who you are, and don't let people talk down to you. The decisions you make are yours to make - but always be aware of the ripple effect in those closest to you.

vi. Remember that older people actually do have more experience than you. They do know what they're talking about most of the time. "Don't act like you've been to China with the tee shirt to prove it unless you actually can prove it."

vii. What you are feeling will lessen over time, and although I know you do not believe that, it's true. Teenage years are scary, for thousands of reasons, and hormones are one of them. On top of everything else that goes on, it makes emotions spiral out of control. Mental illness mixed with that is a recipe for disaster, but not a permanent one.

viii. And most important of all, never underestimate the power of your mind. Both good and evil can come from it. 

A (hypothetical) Hand to Hold

This is me. Well, me as a three (or so) year old. This is the me I wish I could say grew up. Something changed though, and that something remains burned into me forever. I know exactly what it was, which makes it a little easier to swallow, yet at lot more difficult at the same time. My childhood was not an easy one. Not in any way, shape, or form. I can literally say that it screwed me up beyond belief. The past few months have been weird though. I haven't been thinking about it as much, and if I do, it's more of "how do I move on from this" instead of a "why did this happen to me." Don't get me wrong, I will always wonder why it happened to me, but I've learned that I need to let go as much as possible. It's been thirteen years. A near year of abuse, and thirteen years later, I'm starting to recover. I can't tell you if I will ever forgive him for what he put me through. What he made my life into. But I'm learning that I need to let go of the hurt. The anger. The fear. There's nothing he can do to me anymore. That six year old little girl that he hurt so badly will reemerge one day. I've already seen glimpses of her, and I'm ready to see her fully. I'm trying to keep my head on my shoulders and I'm figuring out I can do that easier with a hypothetical hand to hold. No one can do this but me, and I know it's time. It's time to tackle the emotions and the memories. From this day forward, he will no longer have a hold on how I live my life.

About Me

I wrote this on tumblr as my "about me" section, and I wanted to post it here hahah.

I'm Alexa and I'm twenty years old. Seattle is and will always be my home. I'm an aspiring photographer, like 99% of today's youth. But really, photography is my life. I found peace with myself through my lens, and I won't give that up. I have a slightly.. okay, who am I kidding.. I have an extremely strange obsession with Ted Bundy. Serial killers have fascinated me for most of my life, and for some reason I've always found Mr. Bundy to be of particular interest to me. My one regret in life is not being born before he was executed because I'd really just like to grab a cup of coffee with him and talk about life. No, I'm not kidding. Okay, maybe about the whole "regretting not being born yet" thing, but he really should resurrect soon. For science. Yes. For science. Not to be forced into a coffee date with me.... I love cats. And I'm really not just saying that for the sake of tumblr. I really do love all kinds of music, except country. Thanks to an ex boyfriend of mine, I started to listen to rap. I am, without a doubt, the only (white) girl I know that can rap the entire song "Money to Blow". I do this proudly. Backstreet Boys are my favorite, but most 90s music makes me insanely happy. If given the chance, or even when not given the chance, I will sing along to just about any 90s song that I hear. Particularly "No Scrubs". One of my favorite feelings is when I do something that I can cross off my "List of things to do before I die" (no. It's NOT a bucket list. I hate that term.) I love it even more when I do something off the list and don't even realize it until afterwards. My handwriting looks the best in thin point Sharpies, therefore I will use them at most times. I really love snail mail, so if you'd like to be pen pals, please do not hesitate to message me. My hair changes a lot. I hate long hair, and I always have, but this never seems to occur to me when I decide to grow it out. I then become overly frustrated with everything and chop it all off. This is documented over many years. It's a vicious cycle. More people should be aware of it. My mom is my best friend for many reasons, but the top reason as of lately is because she encourages me to stalk people. I hate licking envelopes and if I have to, I will make a very strange face because I think the glue stuff tastes like sour cat pee. To answer your question, no, I do not know what sour cat pee tastes like. But I can only assume it tastes like envelope glue. My ipod "notes" section would be a jackpot for blackmailers, as well as paparazzi's trying to sell my secrets to tabloids. This is why I have yet to become famous. I like contemplating things that some deem as "stoner logic", though I usually only think that way when I am completely sober. If you couldn't figure out by now that I am a weird person, then you, sir, or ma'am, are not very smart. Also, if you are still reading this, you should have a star on the Walk of Fame. Or a trophy. Or even a medal. But since I burned too many bridges and am unable to get people stars in Hollywood anymore (ugh, long story.), I don't know where I could possibly find a trophy shop, and let's be honest, medals are just lame compared to stars and trophies. So let's call it even and you can go draw your name in the fresh pavement that the road workers just poured down the street. Come on. You know you wanted to anyways. Think of this as a sign telling you that it's okay to do such intense vandalism. Okay seriously are you really still reading this?

Perfection is Nothing but an Illusion

I felt like crawling out of my own skin. The feeling that I had grown to know so well was back again. As familiar as it was, it still scared the shit out of me, and I wanted more than anything for it to go away. The scars that still line my arms are proof of what went on in the house of a body. The blade, at my fingertips. The tingling, in my arms. The sunlight was blocked by the shades on my window, but somehow I knew it was about 3:30 in the afternoon. The closet was taped up and covered in blankets. This was my life. My mostly insane life. I was fifteen. I was nothing like I had imaged myself to be at that age. I knew that something was different in my head. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Not only was the blade calling out to me, as a friend and as an enemy, but the thoughts that circled through my brain. That not-so-lovely mush inside my head was all I had left, with an arm filled with cuts and scars. Almost as if  they were bodies, lined up in a row, casualties of war. I tried, so damn hard, to stop myself. To stop myself from the thoughts, from the actions, but that pesky mush inside my head had different ideas. I wanted to be perfect. My brain wanted me to fall. Fall so fast, so hard, that all that was left was my guts on the sidewalk. At the time, I wanted to succumb to the thoughts. Those nagging, terrible, scary thoughts. It took me quite a long time to realize that it wouldn't be worth it. As strong as the desire was to cease those nagging, terrible, scary thoughts, I knew that ceasing my thoughts would mean ceasing my life as well. I tried. Goddammit I tried. And in a way, I like to say that I succeeded. Not in an attempt to end it all, but I succeeded in overtaking my terrible thoughts with my sane thoughts. It took a long time. It took an attempt on my life. And although that seems like lifetimes ago, I know that it has just shaped me into who I am right now. This won't be who I am forever, so I'm going to take advantage that I have this "me" at least for a short time, if not longer. I know that perfection is unattainable, and looking back I know that my craving for perfection was unfounded. The truth is, perfection is nothing but an illusion. A beautiful mirage. I may have my moments, I may think about bad things, but I have made huge strides from where I was four years ago. Hell, even two years ago. I love that I'm awkward and shy. I love that I'm probably the most caring person you will ever meet. I love that I strong, oh god am I a strong person. I love that I will eat french fries for breakfast, lunch and dinner... and the snacks in between. I may not be perfect, but I'm perfectly happy with being me. And that's all I could have ever asked for.