You only live once.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I'm sick of needing strong pain killers.  The amount I need to take now just to take off the edge of the jaw pain is enough to numb my entire body except for what needs to be numb.  As hard as I try not to take them... and after a year of rehab after being addicted years ago - I try fucking hard... but I'm suffering so much.  The low from it is what's killing me.  The constant depression isn't from them... but they don't fucking help.  I had to raise the dose of steroids again because of how sick I have gotten since the lung issue -

A few weeks ago, an artery in my left lung blew.  Out of no where.  I had emergency surgery to stop the bleeding.  I had a hard time waking up, I'm lucky I did.  I was out for 30+ hours.  My PTSD is caused from living in the hospital for a year when everything first started in my sophomore year of high school.  When I tried to de-admit myself from the hospital after the surgery, the red tape got thick.  If you leave when they don't want you to and need to end up going back, insurance does not cover it.  I'm so grateful to have insurance.  Too bad it's going to out soon and I'm not well enough to work.  I get disability insurance as well but it doesn't pay for all what I need.  It's all thanks to my mom to have what I have.

I feel so worthless in this world.  After my isolation ended it's like I've forgotten how to be in a social setting.  I get nervous and hesitant, freeze up and panic.  The last few weeks have been so rough on me, and I've been emotionally and mentally unstable since early summer.  After the lung incident everything got fucked up.  My doctors in New England won't work together.  Burlington wants nothing to do with me because I'm a transplant patient.... and Boston wants nothing to do with me because my one year is over.  I need help almost more than ever right now and I'm trying as hard as I can, as is my family, to get that.  It's not working.

I feel so trapped, I feel like a monster.  Something different.  Something hideous.  I want to hear that I'm beautiful.  I want my hair to be thicker so it doesn't look like I've had cancer, have strong enough legs to be able to wear heels, not have hernias that show in my stomach so I could dress nice.  I want to gain weight so that I can wear jeans and not sweats everyday.  I don't want to look anorexic.  I don't want to care about physical beauty, but the way I look at myself is a huge problem of it's own.  That's something I don't blame myself entirely on, though.  He started the wreckage.

I want to experience peace of mind... like I did after everything went to hell.. but then by miracle, got better.  I had that before.  I had happiness.  I knew who I was, and was content with that.  I wanted to live and was happy for everything I got through because it made me stronger.  I've lost myself, what I stand for, and the smile's been so fake since it all re-started that my face is tired of putting on that look and how I really feel is starting to show through... one of my biggest fears.  I'm not myself and haven't been for awhile.  That's the thing I want the most, I want to feel like Mariah Fawn again - not a constantly drug induced depressed worthless speck of life on a little green and blue planet that makes no sense to me.

I know there are millions suffering more than I am.  But why can't I have one thing be wrong?  Just one illness... one problem, or even just be affected physically instead of mentally and psychologically as well.   Clearly, my life doesn't work that way.  Been coughing and had sinusitis since Thanksgiving 2010 - over a year... even before the transplant.   Sure, the transplant worked... but was it worth it?  You know how I felt being the youngest Bone Marrow Transplant patient in the Boston clinic... and the sickest - when the problems weren't even from transplant?

I have so much I can do to keep myself entertained, but it's gotten to that point that I don't give a fuck anymore.  I don't have the motivation to even put in a video game or draw because I'm so miserable.  There's so much I want to do but just can't do it.  I want to beat Super Mario Galaxy so I can start SMG2 that I got.  I want to finish a drawing for a friend that I started months ago and wanted to have done for Christmas.  I want the pictures for another piece of artwork to come together instead of sitting there on my table looking at me.  There are books I want to read.  Pictures I want to take.  Keep working on the book I started writing.  People I want to see.  I'm not a lazy person.  I'm just down too far and can't get out of the hole to do things.

I was so excited to start college in an actual classroom.  I signed up for Graphic Design and Psychology of Consciousness - both things that I feel passionate about.  I felt like doing this would bring up my mood, make me feel worthwhile and give me something to do as well as keep my education going.  If I'm not better in a few weeks I'll have to drop the classes.  Both are offered online, but that's not even worth it.  When I took online courses before I hated knowing that I had to do them online because I couldn't be present.  It's like a wheelchair. They're fun until you actually need it, and when you actually do you don't want to be around it.

I hate to complain.  But sometimes, I feel like I need to do it more than I do.

2011 brought me another year of survival.  I made it to my 20th birthday, and was told I would be dead by my 19th.

But did I really luck out?

Wednesday, September 14, 2011


I'm trying my best to stay strong but whatever I do I just break.  Shatter.

How am I possibly supposed to deal with everyone else's issues when clearly I can't handle my own?

If I get the news that I want to hear in Boston next Tuesday, then I know exactly what I'm going to say to the public.  I know exactly who I'm going to apologize to, who I'm going to make hurt, what I'm going to say about who I am, and who everyone is to me.  If I get that news... I'm celebrating.  If I don't, I'm getting fucked up anyway and still writing a note.

I want to hate you for what you did to me, but I can't.  I want you to answer my question.  I need you, for me... to stop hurting.  But do I really?  Maybe I shouldn't have backed out of the opportunity I had today, maybe it could have been something... but I think it was you who stopped me.  I got so hooked on your love.  Now love is all I crave, and I'm beginning to fell like I had wished I would have never experienced it.

I need everything to end.  I need to stop hurting mentally, emotionally, and physically.  I can't keep eating chemicals, nor do I want to (not all the time...) - but do I want to suffer...?  Yes, and no.  I will let myself suffer when need be, but I also need ease.  I know I will never stop hurting physically, chronic pain will be forever and I get that.

I can't decide if this transplant was worth it.  I lost the love of my life, and the reason was this stupid fucking unknown thing that's eating me alive.

Size 0 jeans are too big for me.  Do you know how insanely disgusting I feel?

Do you realize that you killed me with a force stronger than anything else has tried to kill me with before?  I guess you get props for that, because a disease like Leukemia couldn't even kill me.  I had always been so mentally strong that I couldn't find my breaking point.  But I guess you could, babe, and it's you.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Some Sharing.

This has been speaking to me.  Read the lyrics.

"Maybe I'm a different breed..."

That is the actual video.  It's pretty interesting; there is a lot of nice art if you watch closely for the details.

It's just... I don't know.  I'm hooked.

As we speak - I found this.  SO PRIME!  <3 Foreigner...

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Give Me An Answer!

Is is considered suicide if you can convince someone to kill you?

Wednesday, June 8, 2011


People ask me all the time what I miss most because of my transplant, whether it be going shopping, concerts, hanging out at my friends apartments or taking random road trips to follow bands around. 

The thing I miss most in the world is myself.  

I'll always be who I've grown into, and I've learned to love that image.  However, I'm trapped in this 83lb body of disease and sickness, both physical as well as mental and I can't seem to unlock the cage or find the key.  I want to be myself again, to feel beautiful inside and out.  I can't look into mirrors anymore because I hate what I see.  I want to be happy enough to do what I love but I've been so sick for so long that I just can't do anything and knowing that depresses me, making motivation difficult - it's hard for me to even make my lover happy because it's like he's dating a different women and that kills me... and him.  I'm a prisoner of my own home, more so now then ever because it's hard to take an oxygen tank with me and as hard as I try to get off the oxygen, it's just not working. 

I can't count the number of people who have told me I'm the strongest person they have ever known and I think right now my motivation is for them to keep that thought.  I know I'm strong, but I can only get pushed so far - and I ask myself; how much longer can I go?

I just turned 20 and I feel like I'm 90.  How the hell does this happen?

Saturday, October 16, 2010

It's Really Happening!

Damn, Boston is loud.  I'm in a fucking hotel and can hear the party-goers drunken shouts outside.  Why am I not with them?  Because I'm in isolation.

(Even though I cheated and went to the gym).

While in this city, I've been writing a book.  A biography, you might say.  Or, a bunch of random fucked up memories, stories, experiences, pictures, poetry, drawings, dreams, screams.  In general, is it about me and my life, written in the only way I know how - art.

I'm really not egotistical.  But, this book is already fucking awesome.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Wednesday Knowledge.

Steak and potato TV dinner's taste like chinese food.