Reality Ruined My Fantasies | Teen Ink

Reality Ruined My Fantasies

July 7, 2016
By Anonymous

Author's note:

I first wrote this book because I needed an outlet for all of my anxiety that I faced as a young teenager entering high school. From their I just wrote down my day to day experiences, advice that I had heard, or anything I thought was worth sharing. So I guess you could say this is a memoir of a teenage girl in modern day America. 

Dear Reader,

Day Uno. The day I, Rachel was born. I was my parent's first child, the experiment so to speak. As a baby I must've loved the cold, because I was born on the coldest day of the year. Maybe I'm secretly part frost-giant. Does that make Loki my brother? Anyways back to my story. I was an early baby, born really early in the morning. That's weird because I hate mornings. Can't the universe just skip morning and go straight to afternoon? But I guess then everyone would hate afternoons, and there would be no time for sleeping in, so maybe mornings can stay. Except Monday morning. Like seriously someone take Monday mornings out of my life. Who needs Monday mornings anyway? When I was born, the nurse accused my mother of putting a wig on my head. Apparently I had lots of curly hair. What happened hair? Why did you lose those fantastic curls? Of course my sister inherits the ringlet curls and I get stuck with wavy hair. Wavy hair is so indecisive. It can't decide if it wants to be really curly or really straight. MAKE UP YOUR MIND ALREADY! Please pardon my outburst. I will try to remain calm while wrestling the Blonde Monster that has made its home on my head. Speaking of the Blonde Monster, I remember a time where it and I didn't get along so well. When I was a little child, my blonde hair went way past my butt. I thought I was Rapunzel, or Cinderella; I was very indecisive. Due to the fact that my hair was super long, I would wake up every morning with a rat's nest in my hair. Another reason to hate mornings. The knot would be about the size of an actually rat and hurt worse then pulling teeth to brush out. My mom and I would sit on the floor while she would brush out my hair. Every time she hit the knot I would let out a cry of pain. Eventually my mom got so fed up with my cries, she told me to bark whenever it hurt. I believed this to be a weird yet interesting concept. My dog, Amy, thought I was insane. She was right. After about a year with this crazy long hair I decided to chop it off. At the time I thought it was going to Locks of Love, an organization that makes wigs for cancer patients. I was wrong. My mother didn't save my hair at all. It ended up in the trash. Like most things in life.

We think we're doing a good thing, but then we realized that we were living a lie. I do that every day. I pull on this mask that tells the world, Rachel is fine, that her life couldn't possibly be better. In reality, I'm tired. I am worn out by the struggles and burdens of this world. Everything makes me worried because I know how quickly it could all go away. I can't sleep at night; my brain is too busy worrying. I let myself think that I'm worthless, that I am useless. I am just in the way of things. I'm always making a mess of things. I trip and fall. I fall hard. Sometimes I don't want to get back up. Wouldn't just be easier to stay here on the ground?

But we don't. No matter how worn out I am, I will always get back up. Why? Because people count on me just like they count on you, Reader. Don't fail them.

Sincerely Yours,


"Why do we fall Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up."- Thomas Wayne, Batman Begins

Dear Reader,

        One thing you should know before we continue, is that I have very strange and vivid dreams. Not like creepy and not exactly nightmares, but my dreams are random. My subconscious decides to take different pieces from different aspects of my life and smash them together to create a weird story line. These dreams are normally reoccurring with a slight twist each time. It is just one of the things that makes me Queen of dreams.

        So last night's dream: My something group (I'm not sure what group of people) won a free trip to Italy. While we were there some Italian hotel lady mistook me for a rich woman who lived in a penthouse. I guess everyone has a dobble ganger, mine's just hiding in Italy. But anyways, my friend convinced me to pretend to be the rich lady and we strolled into the penthouse. It was really small for a penthouse. The penthouse had a small kitchen, which was infested with giant metal c***roaches. Creepy. Eventually, the c***roaches ran down the drain which was still creepy. The penthouse itself had two twin beds and a massive window that over looked the city. It was beautiful. My friend, though I could never identify which friend she was, decided that we were throwing a party with a bunch of crazy party Italians. In the middle of our party, a boy flew up to our massive window and grabbed a screaming child from out of the air. I knew this boy because we went to school together. For reasons unknown, my dream self fell head over heels for him when in reality I don't feel anything. My friend, let's call her Stacey, since I can't figure out who she is. Stacey whispered to me, "Why would he do that? He's exposed." Obviously she's referring to the super powers. The boy, he shall be called Bruce, looked right at me and smiled before disappearing with the child. FLASH FORWARD.

        In the morning, I realized that I was supposed to have been with my group while I was at the party. Uh oh. Stacey came in and announced that I had a date with Bruce. Within ten minutes Stacey had done my hair in a horrible "European" style. I won't go into detail, but there was a lot of hairspray. I ran down to the lobby and sat on a bench waiting for my date to arrive. Then trouble. One of my group leaders (at least that's what dream me called him), entered the lobby. I knew that he would drag me back to the group and I really didn't want to go back. So I made my awkward hair less conspicuous and tied a bandana over my eyes. If you haven't noticed my dream self is incredibly stupid. When the bandana fell, the sponsor was right in front of me. He sat on the bench parallel to me as if we were going to have a nice friendly chat. I bolted. Bruce was just entering the lobby when I yelled "Bruce!" Bruce understood and grabbed my hand. We ran, the leader guy on our tail. That's when I found out I could fly. Have you ever tried to run in a dream, but your legs don't move fast enough? Well my dream self said screw it and flew while Bruce dragged us along. You think it would've been better if we both flew away, but again dream me is incredibly stupid. BLACKOUT

        I was in Walmart of all places. I could hear the group leader and another leader person  talking about finding me. The kids in the group were scattered through out Walmart. When one of them saw me, I put a finger to my lips and they stayed quiet. I was sneaking around when Logan Lerman turned the corner leaning on a shopping cart. According to my subconscious, Logan Lerman shops at Italian Walmarts. I was so shocked by Logan Lerman, that I didn't notice the group leader come up behind me and lift me into the air by the collar of my shirt. When I say lift into the air, I mean several feet. The leader took my back pack, which was magically full of shoplifted items. I considered screaming for Bruce, but for once dream me did something smart and didn't yell. A Walmart employee came up and made sure everything I had stolen was in the back pack. Only then was I set down. Bruce walked right in front of me, and I handed him dog tags. No body noticed. Once he was gone, I made a break for it. Within two seconds I was caught again.  THE END

        Now you're probably like, what the heck was that? Rae, why would you write this? Well, Reader, here's why. No matter how crazy your dream, it still holds some truth. For example, I want superpowers so bad it's not even funny. Another example, I've always wanted to travel with my friends or go on a secret mission where I have to defy everyone. So in the end, my dream makes some sense. My friend Hannah and I used to talk about our weird dreams every morning when we got to school. It was something I looked forward to. Sweet dreams!

Sincerely Yours,


"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." - Edgar Allen Poe

Dear Reader,

        Don't you hate when something you looked forward to get cancelled? TWICE IN A ROW?! So when the Youth Group Fourth of July Fireworks Stranganza was cancelled, it really ticked me off.

        Anyways, that was just my little rant. Feel free to ignore it. Now, onto my real topic of the day: Freaking Awesome But Incredible Sad Stuff. For example, just about any book series that is currently popular. Unless you're three years old. Then maybe it's all happy endings and rainbows with unicorns. But not for me. I personally love unhappy endings. My favorite book is Catching Fire (unhappy ending), my favorite movie is The Perks Of Being A Wallflower (unhappy-ish ending), and in my free time I crush children's hopes and dreams. Okay maybe not that last one but you get the point. Disney and I have fought long and hard about this happy ending thing. Well, it was a one sided fight because Mickey Mouse didn't want to talk to me. But then I saw How To Train Your Dragon 2 and SPOILERS it's an unhappy ending. THANK YOU DISNEY!!

        So here's the truth. Why do I like unhappy endings? It's a pretty short answer. Because reality refuses to give us our fairy tale ending. The single mom left with two kids living in a rundown apartment didn't have a prince come to save her. The lonely girl never got a fairy godmother. The little boy dying of cancer didn't have a good witch give him a magic potion. The starving people in Africa didn't magically find food on their door step by courtesy of some nice pixies. No, none of this happened. But I'll tell you what did happen to these people. The single mom got a promotion. The lonely girl realized she didn't need some stupid boy to make her feel good. The little boy went into remission. The starving people in Africa were visited by missionaries who showed them how to make money and feed their families.

        I don't believe in happy endings. I believe we write our own endings.

Sincerely Yours,


“Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke.” - Joss Whedon

Dear Reader,

        I'm going to be up front with you. I'm listening to my parent's arguing and only negative things can come from that. If only I could step up and say something, but the last time I did that it didn't get any better. Three things come to mind when I hear them: Control, Image, and Selfishness. That's all. Oh, and now lack of patience, and just plain rude. So here's my view on these things and why they should not be argued to this intensity.

        Control: First of all, my parents are not God. They do not control anything. My dad said that he is supposed to control his own family. Control your family? NO. You're supposed to love your family no matter what. Listen to their opinions, embrace their weaknesses and strengths. Not tell them exactly what to do. We not machines, we are human beings. We were meant to be loved, not manipulated. You can't control your family anymore than you can control the annoying woodpecker by the gutter, or the nail that lodged itself in your tire. God controls all, not you.

        Image: Our society is ridiculous. We only care about image. Examples? So glad you asked.

        "Such a beautiful couple!" They're seeing other people.

        "That man is wearing a suit with nice shoes. He must have money." He's living with his mom.

         "That girl is fine." She cries herself to sleep.

        "Look at the happy family." The child dreams of running away while the parents are divorcing.

See what I mean? Image ruins us. Makes us dress up and wear fancy things. It forces us to put on a mask for the rest of the world. How many times has someone asked you:

        "How are you?" And you respond.

        "Good." I'm good. My parents yelling keeps me awake. I often dreamt of running away. Yeah, I'm good.

        Selfishness: Hey buddy, you volunteered to start a family with someone else. You should've known that there is no room for selfishness. You've got to sacrifice sleep for a child, give up your time to spend with helping your wife, and hand over your money cause none of that will go towards you anymore. You volunteered for this, otherwise you would be living in an apartment alone. At you would have your selfishness to comfort you. All I hear are sentences using the word Me. "And how did that make me look?", "You weren't thinking about me.", and my favorite "You didn't have to question my decision in front of everyone!" Me. Give me. Love me.  Listen to me. Focus on me. I hate the word me.

        Now I know with most of these things you're thinking: "Oh yeah, like Rachel's never done that before." And you would be right. I'm totally being hypocritically, but here's why.  I'm fourteen. My parents are in their forties. I'm young and unwise; they are experienced in the ways of life. And here we are listening to the bickering of greedy children come out of forty year old's' mouths. I'd like to think that if I get married, we would never fight like this. I hope I'm right.

        Sincerely Yours,


"It's better to be unhappy alone than with someone."- Marilyn Monroe

Dear Reader,

I am exhausted. I so freaking tired, I almost fell asleep while watching my favorite show: How I Met Your Mother. That never happens. And while I'm tired, of course the work keeps piling up. Summer homework, laundry, Color Guard (the flag twirlers in the marching band), cleaning the house, more laundry. One day I'm just going to be folding laundry and fall asleep. Probably while folding someone's underwear. I think I might have something called narcolepsy. It's a sleep condition where you constantly wake up in the middle of the night, have vivid dreams, as well as daytime sleepiness. But enough about my mental health. We all know that I'm insane.

So Reader, today I thought I'd tell you a bit more about me. As I mentioned before, I'm in the Color Guard at my school. For those who are confused on what a Color Guard is because they have never been social enough to go to a high school football game, I'll explain. A Color Guard is a part of the marching band that dances and flag twirls with the music. The more experienced Color Guard members spin rifles and sabres too. I guess they don't trust us rookies with weapons, just with six foot long metal poles. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right? WRONG. ...I just confused myself. So far my legs and feet have been collecting bruises. Don't even get me started on how often I've hit my fingers. Trust me, I can't count that high.

I've been having these weird dreams lately. Not really dreams, more like nightmares. Not just any nightmare either, the kind of nightmare that leaves you trembling, too scared to fall back asleep. I used to get these nightmares all the time when I was little, but back then I could just walk into my parents' room and sleep on the floor next to their bed. Now, not so much. I don't know why they've chosen now to come back, it's rather inconvenient timing since I'm starting high school in the fall. I got enough to worry about. But of course there's these awful nightmares about the first day of school. I don't normally have nightmares about school, but there's a first time for everything. Other things in my nightmares recently, friends getting kidnapped and family in trouble. That family nightmare left me up for the rest of the night worrying that one day it could come true. I really hope not.

Sorry to depress you Reader, because I don't mean to be depressing. Nightmares are just those things in life that I haven't quite figured out. Like all dreams really. Most of the odd ones I write down and turn them into stories. The others I just laugh about and shake off. But nothing scares me more than nightmares. Why? Because somewhere in my head a voice is telling me: "It could all come true."

Sincerely Yours,


"I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking."- Finnick, Mockingjay

Dear Reader,

Do you ever plan out your conversations before they happen? Like think through everything you want to say, and everything the other person is going to say? Well, yeah I do. Maybe I'm just weird like that. So, one of my friends threw a party, and I seriously did this. Pretty much planned out every word I would say. Then of course at the party, I said none of the things I wanted too. And I thought I had a good memory.

So Reader, how's life? Mine's pretty good, I guess. I hate being one of those downers that are like "My life sucks. I have the worst life ever." I mean those people (cough, teenagers) are probably just having a bad day. It's not like they're living in a cardboard box with no food. Obviously not, if they have the ability to post about it online. I really hope I don't sound like these people. I have so much to be thankful for. A house, food, water, friends, food, family, money, and lastly food. I really love food. But my point is that we all have things to be thankful for, right? We can't just go around saying life sucks, because it really doesn't.

How do we overcome these negative feelings about life? I'm glad you asked. See, the thing I have to tell myself everyday is there are people all over the world who have it worse. Starvation, war, disease, greed, and so much more. These things have taken over our world. And all of this were caused by us. I was talking with my friend the other day and one of the things he said was:

"Humans should just go away. It would be so much better for the Earth." And isn't he right?

Okay, I don't mean to sound like a hippie, but yes I kind of am a hippie. I just hate it when other people suffer. When I see a homeless person on the side of the road, or a stray dog I sincerely feel the need to jump out the car and help. But no one can do that anymore because of the stupid world we live in.

Yes, that was a rant. So sorry. My point is to think about the positive instead of the negative. Who knows? Maybe thinking about good things will make good things suddenly appear. Stranger things have happened.

Sincerely Yours,


"Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking."- Marcus Aureilus

Dear Reader,

        Masks. Aren't they strange things? They cover not only your face, but your identity. People use masks to be someone or something they're not. Certain occasions require us to wear a mask like Halloween or a masquerade. I've never seen the point of a mask. Putting a face over your face? It just doesn't make sense. In the same way I've never seen the point to wearing make-up. Using some powder to change your appearance just seems weird to me.

        I remember the first masquerade ball I went to. My dad was the principal of a EXTREMELY small private high school. There were under twenty students. Close your eyes and visualize the scene. Wait, no,  don't stop reading. Just try to imagine how it felt to me. The only people who were really there as students hid in the game room claiming the music was too loud. To try and fill up the dance, I invited some friends of mine. Now I wasn't a high school student at this time. In fact, I had barely started seventh grade. So I was this awkward seventh/sixth grader with two friends at a mostly empty dance. The band was playing, and after some encouraging from a friend, we decided to dance. Man, I really couldn't dance. I was dancing like an awkward child who couldn't stop jumping. It was terrible. And then there was the slow songs that everyone just awkwardly danced to with another girl. Emily and I ended up dancing together since we were the same height. Then my dad wanted to dance with me, and back then dads had cooties. So what I did I do? Of course I politely refused and continued about my merry way. WRONG. I caused a scene. I fell to the ground yelling "NO!" To be fair, my dad didn't ask me to dance. All in all, the masquerade ball wasn't the best.

        Masquerades are funny things aren't they? Recently I went to another masquerade ball (I was less awkward this time) and no one wore a mask. I thought that was kinda cool, considering the masquerade theme was lame anyway. And during the dance everyone mingled, no one was excluded, not even the chaperones. It was a nice feeling. It felt as if for a moment all of our masks were taken off. And in that second we were more than individuals.

         If only everything were like that.

       Sincerely Yours,


"We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

Dear Reader,

        First day of high school. Scary. Actually, it wasn't that bad since I made it home in one piece. Once I got home, the problems started. Like the huge math packet my math teacher sent home. Or the death of the amazing Robin Williams. Coincidence? I think not! But seriously though, high school isn't as scary as I thought it would be.

        The thing that scares me though is the people. Think about it. How many adults do you know that met their spouse in high school? My parents met in high school. And look where they are now. Married with two kids. Or another example, you right now could be going to school with the future president. Or the next Beyonce. Or even your future boss. The students that you go to high school with, will be the future. That kid you sat next to in geometry could be that one person you avoid in grocery stores. That random stranger that you pass in the hall could be the face you see everyday on the news. That's what scares me. I could spill my lunch on the future president and get horrible taxes for the rest of my life. Or, I could really tick off the future Lady Gaga and she could tell her fans to hate me. See? I could do something to ruin my future. I could hit my future husband with my locker. Knowing me, I would do something like that.

        So guys, I wanted to talk to you about my best friend, Emily, again. If she was a guy, she'd be my soul mate. We are so alike and yet so different. We are called bungee cord buddies because we rarely leave each others' side. Why am I mentioning Emily? Well one, she's probably the biggest fan of my writing. Probably. Two, she sitting across from me and I needed inspiration. And three, because everyone needs their own Emily.

        Without Emily I would never passed seventh grade math class. She can take something confusing and dumb it down for my feeble mind. She's crazy smart and she knows it. Sometimes, she's too smart. For example, anytime I prove her wrong because she was too c***y. Which is a lot. JUST KIDDING! The only thing that Emily can't do is talk in front of people. Me, on the other hand, I was born to be a performer. The stage is my home and the spotlight better be on me. I do the talking, she does the thinking.

        We're a brilliant team.

        Think about your best friend(s). Could you imagine life without them? Me neither. If I were to ever lose Emily, a piece of me would be shredded to bits. Because I love her. I saw a quote the other day and I realized it fit us perfectly: "God made us best friends because our parents couldn't handle us as sisters." If Emily was my sister, my parents would lose their minds.

        Anyways, what I'm trying to say is love your best friends. Never take them for granted. Your best friend is a part of you. Don't ever lose that.



P.S. In honor of Robin Williams, I wanted to share one of his quotes. He was truly an amazing man.

"You're only given one little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it."- Robin Williams

Dear Reader,

        When I talk to someone about the books I'm writing, I mention this one a lot. Normally, they look at me funny and say:

                "You put your personal diary on the internet for everyone to see?"

        And I just smile and nod. Here's the thing I want to clear up. Obviously you've read this much of my life so you know that this is not a typical diary. And I'm not a typical girl. I don't drool over boys or write about my crush and his "dreamy eyes" or whatever. But isn't that what most people think of when someone mentions their diary? When I was around like ten, my cousin gave me a diary for Christmas. It was sparkly and pink (ick even little me hated pink) with a lock and set of keys tied to the cover. I was so excited because, even from a young age, I adored writing. So I wrote down everything that happened for the past week. Then it went from a newsletter of my life, to a dream journal, and finally to a shrine to whichever boy I liked the most at that time. Eventually I lost the keys and didn't write in it for a while. After about three years, I cut the lock off and read everything I wrote.

                                                                            WARNING MINI RANT

        When I saw what I had written, I realized that I had been dependent on what a certain guy thought of me. That's something I never wanted to be. I hate when people feel like they need some other person to complete them, that this one person's opinion mattered the most. Now, yes I realize that one day most of us will find that person we can't live without and marry them. And yes, I realize that they will mean the world to us, but that's not now. Unless you're engaged or married, your significant other doesn't need you dyeing your hair blue because they like the color. My friend struggles with this a lot. I heard her say one time:

                "I measure how beautiful I am by how many times a boy asks me out."

        I love my friend to death but this is all wrong. You are you're own person, strong, beautiful (or handsome), and brave. Who cares what Bob thinks? You are just simply you, and anyone who says different can take a long walk off a shot pier.

        So what I was trying to get at earlier is, why am I writing this? Why would I put my diary, my personal life on the internet? The answer: I don't know. I know reasons that I am not writing for. I'm not writing for pity, sympathy, greed, fame, or anything like that. I'm not writing to be noticed. I'm writing because I feel the need to speak up. I'm actually a quiet person most of the time, and I hate myself for it. So this is my way to be heard and be honest. Writing just makes me feel better; I can channel all my emotions into my stories. But I don't want to write just for me. I want to write for those who won't, or can't. I want to write for those wallflowers who let the world go by. I want to write for those who have been hurt emotionally or physically and need help. I want to write for those who are shunned and ignored.

        I want to write for everyone who's just like me. We deserve to be heard and for once I'm not backing down.
                Will you be heard?


"Can you see me? Cause I'm right here. Can you listen? Cause I'm trying to make you notice what it would mean to me to feel like somebody."-Lemonade Mouth

Dear Reader,

        I don't know about you, but couples freak me out. They're all lovey and I'm just awkwardly standing behind them like the third wheel I am. If you couldn't tell, I've never been in a relationship before so I don't know the first thing about having a significant other. I was commenting on this when my friend told me that the only reason I'm awkward around couples is probably because I want a relationship. Have I really sunk that low, self? Do I feel like I need someone else to complete me? I really hope not. Yes a boyfriend would be nice, but I mean what do you do with him? Just give him some food and pat his head? Or just force him to buy you food while you watch a movie? Is he dependent like a dog or never around like a cat? Sometimes people confuse me. This would be one of those times.

        So my little sister has been begging me to write about her. She kinda has a big head, like me. Her name is Leah, she's in fifth grade. Leah wants to start volleyball, but I don't know why. You see, my sister loves to do flips and flops around the house. It's easy to tell that her passion is gymnastics. I don't understand this sudden interest in volleyball. Well almost. Leah's friends play volleyball competitively and they get trophies and practice together without her. I think she's just feeling left out and because of that she's losing sight of her passion. My sister is greatly influenced by society and peoples'opinions of her. She's the opposite of me in that retrospect. Since I'm the oldest, I feel the need to protect her from society and it's cruel truths. I'm pretty sure my parents feel the same way. For example, I guarantee my sister has no idea what the F-word is. So you can tell I'm doing a pretty good job. Kinda.

        Leah's not the only person I know who's like this. Many of my friends are greatly influenced by society and others are not. I wish there was a way to tell the whole world that what other people think doesn't matter. It's way easier and less stressful to just be yourself and throw caution to the wind. If you want to wear cat ears to school, then wear cat ears to school. If you want to dance to your favorite song, then dance! If you want to be heard, then speak up and be loud!

        It's funny because right there is the most hypocritical thing I could've said. But I'll make you a  promise Reader. If you work on being heard, then I will too. And we can get through these four years together.

Sincerely Yours,


"Society exists only as a mental concept; in the real world there are only individuals."- Oscar Wilde

Dear Reader,

This week is Homecoming week. Being a freshman, I had no idea that my school would make this big a deal out of one football game and a dance. They even have a parade for the high school! And the pep rally, well that was interesting. Apparently, even though the staff is trying to keep us unified, the class all compete against each other. We compete to see who has the best signs, the loudest cheer, the cleverest comebacks, and little minute to win it games. I happened to be behind those "popular" boys that are too competitive. You know who I'm talking about; there's a group of them in every school. Competing gets old after a while. Maybe it's because I'm a modern hippie but c'mon guys, what's the point of screaming insults at the seniors until my throat burns? Or shunning the sophomores because they won something we didn't. I just don't see the point in it.

Anyways, I wanted to talk you about dreams again. I know I mention them often and most of the time they make no sense. But this isn't just a normal dream. This is a nightmare. Have you ever had those nightmares that shake you to your core? That leave you laying paralyzed because you're terrified it will come true? Or worse, you can't tell the difference between your nightmare and reality? That's what happens to me all the time. I have these terrible dreams that are so realistic I believe them myself. But my nightmares aren't your average "freshman shows up to school with no clothes" sort of thing. No, my dreams take an ugly twist. People die in my dreams. Sometimes it's me. Sometimes it's my family. Other times it's my friends. Even random strangers that I don't know die in my dreams. I don't why or what it means, but it's terrifying. After a dream like this, I normally lay in bed until five in the morning hoping that my body will shut down and force my head to sleep. It almost never happens. I've tried to tell my parents about this (not the nightmares, the whole not sleeping thing) but they don't understand how serious it actually is. Maybe no one takes me seriously. I know I wouldn't.

Another thing that shows up in my dreams are tornadoes. I live in the Midwest so tornadoes are kind've a big deal around here. I know people who have lost their homes, belongings, and in extreme cases, their lives. So why do these destructive winds show up in my dreams? According to my dad, when a tornado shows up in your dreams it means chaos. That's understandable because my life is ninety five percent chaos. But I don't know if that's why tornadoes show up in my dreams. Ever since I was little, I've been deathly afraid of tornadoes. I don't know which came first, my tornado like dreams or my fear of tornadoes, but one had to influence the other. Tornadoes represent death and destruction, at least that's what I think. I don't know maybe I'm wrong. I'm no expert. Life would be so much easier if I was.

I know this letter seems self-centered. I'm sorry, but I believe that some of my problems relate to you, Reader. You probably don't have tornadoes tearing through your dreams, but maybe something else. A flood, earthquakes, heights, tight spaces, or even death. Nightmares are scary things that no one should go through alone. Trust me, I know.

Sincerely Yours,


"There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear."
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher

Dear Reader,

I despise being a girl. Why you ask? Because of things like dances, boys, dating and love force me to become an emotional rollar-coaster that I can't control. I have to be this sappy idiot who gets holds grudges and daydreams and ugh! It's terrible. If you couldn't tell, I just experienced my first high school dance. Middle schoolers, High School Musical was wrong. No one random bursts into a kick line. In fact the dancing(if I can even call it that) was something not many people want to witness. At least, I didn't.

If you're a high schooler then you know I'm talking about grinding. Like c'mon people, are we really this immodest? Have a little self respect okay? Speaking of high school dances, what is wrong with the music? Literally, only two songs that night weren't dub-step. And most of them were incredibly stupid. There is a song about butts. You know which one I'm talking about. Is this how far we have fallen society? We write songs about people's butts? Come to your senses people. Is this really what we want our society to look like? What if aliens come to America and discover that we clear have zero self respect and we aren't musically inclined. And then they wipe us out because we're a terrible society. Human extinction is all your fault Niki Minaj!

Sorry that's my little rant. I really despise our societal standards. It says you have to like this music, have to wear these clothes, and look like everyone else. Sorry skinny society, but I'm in a committed relationship with my cookie dough ice cream. And there's not room for both. Our societal standards have even going down hill. Girls are barely wearing clothes anymore; thanks society. People feel bad about their body image because they aren't super skinny or don't have a six pack; thanks society. I can't ask a question without the answer being "your mom"; thanks society. The lists goes on and on. Our generation doesn't have this respect or standard for ourselves. But in reality our generation isn't making standards for our society. Businesses are. Apple makes you love Apple products. Fashion designers make you love their clothes. Niki Minaj makes you love her music. We need to think for ourselves and be our own influences in the world. No one is making my stupid decisions for me. I'll do that myself.

Sincerely Yours,


"Are you sick of it? Raise your hands, get rid of it while there's a fighting chance."- Skillet, "Sick of It"

Dear Reader,

What if, one day, I left a note that went something like this:

Dear Family and Friends,

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've made a mess of things. I'm sorry about this. But I had to get away. I had to stop playing this cruel game of life. I couldn't take it anymore. So please forgive me and know that I'm in a better place. I love you all so much and I'm sorry I ever had to leave you.



I hope my life never comes to a point where I feel like giving up entirely. Suicide is a terrible thing, probably the thing I hate most in this world.

But I wonder, if I died, would anyone care? Yes, I understand my family would be devastated. But it's everyone else I wonder about. Would my cousins care? Will my friends cry and grieve, or would they get over it quickly? What would Emily do? Would that girl that sits next to me in history notice that I wasn't there? Could my sister be okay without me? What about that boy I like, would he be emotional or would he move on? That man that sits in the back of my church, what about him?There are so many questions when it comes to situations like these. My point is, who in my life loves me enough to miss me when I'm gone? I think when teens commit suicide they ask themselves these questions; they count up too many no's. I wonder if my friend Alex asked himself these before he attempted suicide. I really hope he now realizes how many people actually love him.

I wish there was a way to test my theory without ruining like every relationship I've ever had. I look at someone and think, would they care? Normally I answer no, but it's surprising me how many times I've been proven wrong. Though some may not show it, people actually do care about me. If I died young, my loved ones would care, because they love me.

Suicide is a heavy topic and honestly, I don't really know why I felt the need to write about. I just need to express how much I love you. I don't care if we've never met face to face just know that I love you. We all go through struggles and hardships in this world. But as my drama teacher once said, "It's all about the journey." The good, the bad, the amazing, and the ugly. They make us who we are. Each encounter makes us stronger, wiser, and brave. Please don't ever give up. One struggle is not worth your life. It's not worth your pain, thoughts, or time. After all, you only live once so why spend all your energy on something so little like school? Stay in school kids. When you think about it does school actually matter? No. The only things that matter in this life are your friends and family. Not a job, not money, not college, and not even social media(shocker). I would rather be homeless and bankrupt with my friends than rich and famous with no one. Wouldn't you?

Sincerely Yours,


"Silly little girl, they've seen your scars. All they want to do is to help, but little do they know that three words would have been enough. 'Are you okay?'"- Brian Wingbermuehle

Dear Reader,

        You know what I hate? The world's huge argument over homosexuals. Like seriously people? The main problem is Christians are forgetting some key factors when they judge others. For example, the Bible says that Jesus loves everyone no matter what, no matter how they sin or how messed their lives are. And admit it, all of our lives are pretty screwed up in one way or another. The main reason I hate this argument over gays is because of two things. One, I'm a hippie so WORLD PEACE! Two, a lot of my friends are gay and some people bully them for it. Just because someone is different than you doesn't give you the right to judge them for it. No one person is superior to anyone else. We are all created equal.

        In other news, I just finished my fall play. Being a freshman, and sucking at my audition monologue landed me a small part, but the cast I got to work with was fantastic. And for some reason, the boys had a fascination with Shrek. Every night they would go to the end of the hall, place a Shrek figurine on the floor, chant Shrek, and jump in a circle around the figurine until they were screaming. I don't understand it. I should probably mention that all theatre people are a little messed up in the head. For example, this senior I got to work with. During the last night of the show, he started mouthing cuss words, instead of things like watermelon, or battery acid. I was trying not to laugh, and almost missed my cue. Almost.

        But seriously, I love my theatre friends. And because of this play, I know all of them better. And I realize the struggles each of them are going through. But at first glance, you would've never known the problems these people face on a daily basis. They're all so makes me feel like I have a home among them. I wrote this while thinking about them:

                  I sat there and watched them walk through the door

    The sluts, the addicts, the drunks, the abused, the wallflowers, the liars,

                the thieves, the convicts, the weak, and the poor.

                    They all looked the same.

                I smiled and thought to myself

                                "I'm home."

        A pretty mask can hide a lot of things. So can a person. For we all are born with masks, raised to wear it correctly, and taught to keep it always. Don't ever remove it, because the instant you do, you are rejected by our fake society. Society hates anything real. So go ahead, pile on the make up. Hide the scars. No one wants your honesty.

        Except me. I will always treasure honesty for it is such a rare thing.

        Sincerely Yours,


"Choosing to be in theatre was a way to put my roots down somewhere with other people. It was a way to choose a new family." - Juliette Binoche

Dear Reader,
I thought I could live without having to write down my emotions but in reality, in this crappy reality, I can't. I can't be honest. I can't trust myself. I can barely tell you these things Reader. But I need to. I need to have someone know what's going on inside my head. For my head is one crazy nuclear bomb exploding every five minutes.
It all started with an incident with Emily. I'm not mad at Emily, not anymore. But that's where my faith in my friends shattered. I've become an outcast. I'm not as happy as the other kids I hang around with. And somedays I can't stand the people I hang out with. They can be so needy and they want to know everything but I can't spill. And I won't spill my secrets so easily again. But that's not the only reason I can't stand them. These people get so stuck on one topic or one person that they 'hate'. They focus all of their energy on thinking about this person and I don't understand why. No one seems to know what forgiveness is anymore. That annoys me more than anything. I don't want to lash out at these people but I'm fearful that one day I won't be able to stop myself from screaming.

Another problem in Rae-land is that I told my parents about these sleeping issues I've had. They want to take me to a doctor and I'm scared. What if something is messed up with me? That would explain so much. But medication and doctors asking me about what goes on my head; that scares me more than anything. I've also found that eating is now less appealing. I've been eating less and less ever since the spring musical I acted in. I don't know why; I'm not anorexic. I don't have a burning desire to be skinny. I just lost my appetite, all the time. Reader my life feels like it's hit rock bottom, but I know it could be worse. Right now I don't how much more I can handle.

I'm trying to stay strong. I'm blessed to have friends that will listen to me but they live so far away. It's hard to feel loved when your friends live half way across the nation. I have puppies who somewhat listen to me in between scratching themselves. My parents are gone all day and anything I try to tell them something, they don't listen. I've been trying to convey my insomnia for years now. I had to break down in front of them for my parents to finally realize that I need help. I need someone, anyone to listen to me, to listen to the words I say and the words I don't say. My 'friends' think I need a bae but really I just need a listener. Someone who won't talk over me, someone who won't just smile and nod. I just need a best friend. Is that too much to ask for? Because without a friend, I'm left on rock bottom.


"Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life." - J.K. Rowling

Dear Reader,
    You know what sucks Reader? Not getting invited to a party everyone else went to. And it's all because of one stupid thing I decided to get mad about. I wish I could take it back. I often dream of what it would be like if my friends accepted me again. If I wasn't alone. I'm relying on my family more and more. My cousins are my friends now and I've been telling my mother things I wouldn't normally tell her. It's weird. I used to never be this close to my family. Now, they're all I have.
    On the bright side, Marching Band is starting again. Yes it's a a lot of work but I love performing and traveling with the band. Those road trips are the highlight of the school year. My parents are on the fence about it because Emily is a member of the guard. But I really don't care. Emily and I may not be friends but it's not like she'll kill me in my sleep. Besides my friends are on the guard and I really REALLY miss dancing since the musical is over. I'm going to be the best I can be this upcoming school year. I won't be a lowly freshman anymore. And with the seniors gone there are more opportunities for me. (Seniors, I love you!) I just want to be recognized for something. I'm sick of being in the background. I'm tired of being invisible. I know it sounds selfish but I want to be SEEN and HEARD. I believe I have talent; the rest of the world just has to listen.
    Do you understand what I mean Reader? Cause I'm done with being a wallflower. No, I won't become a bossy jerk. I just want a chance. I want to take more risks. I don't want to be that conservative girl. Maybe you don't want to be invisible either. It's sucks to be invisible. It stinks to hold back when you know you can do more. And we can do more Reader. I know that you and I have hidden talents that no one has seen. We just have to bring them to light. And once we do maybe we'll get recognition for it. Or maybe not. To me, it won't matter. There's always going to be someone better. I just want to give them a run for their money.
I bet you do too.


"So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them." - Chbosky, Stephen. The Perks Of Being A Wallflower.

Dear Reader,
What is the purpose of life? This question has been fought over since the beginning of time. For some, life didn't matter unless you found power. For others, simply existing is the main purpose. For me, it is faith based. My purpose in this world is to help as many people as I possibly can and to worship my God. Now, I have this purpose for my life. It's what I believed in my whole life. Is it right for someone else to ignore me, to judge me, to criticize me for my faith? I don't know if you've noticed Reader, but more and more people are turning atheist. Which is fine for them; I have no qualms with their beliefs. What I have a problem with, is when an atheist feels the need to state their beliefs and then tell me that I'm hateful for being a Christian. That my faith somehow makes me a terrible person. No one's beliefs makes them a terrible human, unless you're like a Nazi or something. Christianity isn't cool or even acceptable anymore. I don't want to be scared to admit I'm a Christian. I don't want to be cast out because of my faith. The irony is, atheists I have seen seemed to think that Christians are shunning them, especially homosexuals. But the way they describe us Christians makes us seem like monsters. I have never met a Christian who would physically or verbally assault a homosexual because of their sexuality. Love is love. We get that, so don't just assume every faith person you meet is avidly against gays or atheists. And in return, Reader, I believe that people should stop making Christianity seem like a bad thing. Like we're all boring, goody-two shoes with nothing to do with our lives. We have fun. Why does no one get that? We don't have sticks up our butts. We lie, we cheat, we steal. We sin. The difference between us and others is that we ask for forgiveness. I promise Christians aren't all white southern families. We are just regular people. Get over it.

Why did this come up? Well Reader, I wear a lot of rubber bracelets. Today in biology we were dissecting pigs (extremely gross by the way) so
I took off my bracelets. At the end of the lab, I started to put them on. My friend, let's call him Aaron, grabbed one of my bracelets. Written on the bracelet was a bible verse. Automatically, Aaron stopped talking. He put the bracelet down and walked away.Aaron was reminded of my religion and that made him wary. We have freedom of religion in this country.
So I should be allowed to follow whatever God I choose. No one should ignore me for my beliefs. Right?
Maybe I'm just ranting.


"Greater love has no one than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends." - Jesus, John 13:15
(Oh look a bible verse. Sue me.)

Dear Reader,

Disney World. The most magical place on Earth. What Disney neglects to tell you is that it is also the most tiring place on Earth. Running from one ride to the other, dodging small children and people in furry costumes with over-sized heads, paying twenty dollars for an ice cream cone, an hour standing in line for a five minute ride. But don't get me wrong, Disney can still be fun too. Plenty of rides, characters, and all the childish joy any person could want. One just has to find the balance between stress and joy in order to truly enjoy a magical theme park. That's why little kids love Disney; they're too young to fully realized all the stressing, budgeting, and sunscreen that goes into their vacation. If you couldn't tell, I went to Disney World with the marching band and my family. It was fun, stressful, and I don't remember half of it. Seriously, there are some nights that I don't remember. That's how exhausted I was. But I don't care. What I do remember is performing down Main Street U.S.A. at Magic Kingdom. Sure, half the crowd had no idea who we were and just wanted to see the princesses. But our band parents screamed and cheered. And that made my day. Made my summer actually. So it defiantly a cool experience. As a performer, I have to take baby steps to make it. There's this singing competition coming up with the prize of performing twice at Six Flags, and opening for Lincoln Brewster. The only problem is, it's run by my dad's rival music store. He despises them. But this could be a huge opportunity for me. I want to take it, but then there's the fact that I'm untrained. I'm fifteen. I'm just a little girl with no professional experience. Would they even like me? I don't know. I really want to gain experience but sometimes I feel like my dad is holding me back. Ever since he started to sing, I get fewer and fewer opportunities to sing in public. He and a friend of his got into a street music festival but my dad is treating me like I'm some little kid wanting to sing for attention. That's not what this is. I need to perform. It's my life. I need experience so I can continue performing but it seems like no one will give me a chance. Am I terrible? I feel like someone would've told me that by now. Am I so unattractive no one wants me on a stage? That's possible but there's stage make up. I just want one fair chance. One fair chance to make it. But I'll just have to keep looking.

"The thrill of performing - that's something that hasn't changed for me. That simultaneous joy of creating something and sharing it with audience." - Steve Buscemi

Dear Reader,
Hi. My name is Rae and I'm sixteen years old. I'm intelligent yet lack common sense. I'm c***y yet insecure. I hate exercise yet I'm a dancer. I despise lying, yet I'm never honest. I hate love but I want a lover. I'm beautiful and ugly.
I'm just full of oxymorons.
Half of those things that I stated are things I tell the world. I brag about myself when I know that I'm lying. I act dumb around certain people so they don't think I'm a nerd. I try to show that I'm independent when really all I want is a friend. Those things make up my mask.

I wear my mask everyday, to cover up my flaws and those nasty things I don't want the world to see.

Within these pages, I've taken off my mask, revealed my true self to you Reader. the side of me that no one has ever seen. I've told you how I truly felt every time I was forced to hold my tongue. I've told the random things my mind comes up with and every little strange part about me. I've told you the flaws that I keep hidden from the world. I've told you everything I could about me.

Now it's up to you what you do with this knowledge.

Disregard it as a fictional piece of work. Laugh at it and say that you'll never be like me. Delete everything I've just told you from your mind.

Or you could use it.

Use it to take off your mask. Use it to make a new friend or forgive an old one. Use it to learn to not judge those who may be difference or shy and awkward.

It's up to you Reader.

Sincerely Yours,


"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." - Marilyn Monroe

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