Doctor says

My doctor says I'm depressed.

Maybe that's why I haven't left my bed in five days.

My doctor says I'm anemic.

Maybe that's why my heart hasn't stopped bleeding. 

My doctor says I have anxiety.

Maybe that's why I ruin everything by worrying about ruining everything.

My doctor says I have ADHD.

Maybe that's why I can drive for six hours but can't pay attention to the current conversation.

My doctor says the pills will help.

But I have been popping pills since I was four and I'm still fucked up.

My doctor says I shouldn't be so hard on myself.

I don't think they know there is not a pill for self loathing.

My doctor says I should see a therapist.
But I've been in therapy since I was seven and not once did they ask about the bruises on my arms.

My doctor says to look on the bright side.

I don't think they understands that there is a lion that guards the gate.

My doctor says everything is temporary.
I don't think they understand my body is rejecting my mind.
I don't think they understand that I am scraping at the back of my eyelids trying to get out.
I don't think they understand that my mind is a storm and and I'm drowning.
I don't think they understand that I don't dream because when i sleep I only think of how nice it would be if this was forever.

I don't think they understand that the ailment that I suffer from is not a curable one.

My doctor went to school for eight years.

But I don't think they learned a thing.

Black and White

This is a black and white bathroom.  

This is where I dyed my hair red for the first time.

This is where I discovered my love for dark lipstick.

This is where I did my makeup for prom.

This is a black and white bathroom.

This is where I came to cry.

This is where I had my first panic attack.

This is where I took showers so hot my skin went numb.

This is a black and white bathroom.

This is where I bathed my first cat.

This is where I listened to my favorite music.

This is where I came to be alone.

This is a black and white bathroom.
This is where I came to throw up.
This is where I used to stare into the mirror and count all my flaws.
This is where I was going to kill myself.



This is a black and white bathroom.
I know you may think a bathroom is just a bathroom.
But every room has a story be it good or bad.
Black and white.
Always together never apart.






Had the idea for this at exactly three am.
A little strange but I like the way it turned out.

Things Once Forgotten

I know it sounds strange but I recently decided to start living my life for myself and not for someone else.  At first I thought it was selfish to think like that.  Like caring about myself made me a monster.  I guess you could say I have a lot of healing to do.  I've always put some one at the center of my little universe and then completely forgotten about myself.  Forgotten that I matter too.  

So where do I go from here you ask? 

  Good question.  I don't really know. 

 I started doing things I used to love.  

Painting things that make me proud. 

Sketching cartoons.  

Reading books about people who don't exist. 

 Listening to music that makes me smile instead of cry.

Don't get me wrong I still care about other people and will drop everything to help those close to me if they need me.  I'm just no longer going to worry about things that don't concern me.  I'm going to stop putting others needs above my own.  I'm going to stop chasing after things that are not good for me.  For once in my life I am going to put my mental health first.   

I don't think it's selfish.

I think it's smart.

Something About You

Disclaimer:  

I am not weak.  

I am not forgettable. 

 I wrote this about someone who didn't want this.  

So I'm giving it to you guys instead.  

Enjoy.

There is something about the way you make me laugh.  

It's different than the way other people make me laugh.  

It's genuine not forced.

It's natural and untouched. 

There is something about your eyes. 

They are the most unique eyes I've ever seen. 

They are a vibrant green but the left one has a crack in it that breaks my heart.

It's stunning.

Such perfect imperfection.

There is something about the way you talk.

You talk with purpose and meaning.

You're so intelligent it makes me want to know more.

To know everything.

There is something about you that makes me want to never stop getting to know you. 

You are a puzzle I have yet to put together.  

You are a sculpture I have yet to unearth.

You are a game I have yet to beat.

Yes there is something about you I can't quite get out of my mind. 

But why would I want to.

Chat

I still love you...but that's okay.

Disclaimer: I'm writing about a man I wasted too much of my life on. I've written about him before but I'm hoping this is the last time. Getting him out of my system feels good.

To be completely honest, I am still in love with you.

I'll probably still be in love with you till the day I die.

You left a mark on my soul and good or bad it will always be there.

I will love others I will move on.

I will still love you.

I will meet other people I will go places.

I will still love you.

You never asked for me to love you and no one made me.

Loving you was never a choice. It was an unmistakable accident. I let my guard down and before I knew what happened there you were chipping away at my heart. I will always love you because there will always be a string tied to my heart that leads to yours.

Loving you was never a choice. Leaving you was. Leaving the place we both existed together was. Loving you made me crazy and to this day it still does. Loving you was painful and I still have the scars to prove it. Loving you was anything but enjoyable. It was dark and twisted and led me down a road I didn't know I could leave.

Leaving you was worse.

For days I thought you would show up to my door and tell me you loved me too. I knew it was a fantasy but it was my fantasy. It was what got me through the day.

I had to step by step erase you from me.

Erase the way you made me laugh like no one else.

Erase the way you made me smile a mile wide.

Erase the way you made my heart soar.

Erase the way you annoyed me in a way no one else could.

I had to erase the idea that we had a future together.

So yes I love you. As much as I did in the beginning and as much as I will in the end.

I love your laugh.

I love your voice.

I love your walk.

I love your wit and your spunk.

But I am able to live now.

I am finally able to be happy without you.

I'm finally able to breathe again.

Maybe a book? Maybe a novel? Maybe nothing?

I suck so bad.

Keeping up with things is not my best quality.

I've been pretty busy since last time we talked.

I cut my hair and dyed it brown.  I turned nineteen too.

I guess I'm not technically little red any more.

I'm neither a red head nor am I little.

(sigh)

So guess what guys.

I'm writing a story.  Hopefully a book of sorts it's all really up in the air.

I've just been inspired recently.  I honestly don't know if it will be any good and I don't know if I'll ever finish it because like I said before I suck at keeping up with things.

Here's to hoping.

The story is basically about a girl who falls in love with a man but it's not the right time so she basically has to get over him until the time is right and they meet again.  The first book is really just going to be a feel good growing up book and hopefully the second book would be them meeting again and figuring the whole life thing out together.  In all honesty I'll probably get lazy and put it all into one book.

(meh)

I wish I was a more talented writer like I wish I could put my feelings into text in a better way.  I mean I can put the simple stuff on paper but nothing too creative.

For example let's say I was describing a log:

"The log was brown and covered in moss."

(insert famous author here) describing a log:

"Suddenly I saw a log the same shade of brown as the fur on the dog I had growing up.  Moss freckled it through out like a small ginger child."

I don't even know but I'm not that creative.

If any one has any genie wishes they'd like to lend to me that would be great.

Adios Camarades

Night Owl

Late night writings are the best hands down.

When you are most at your most vulnerable.

When your walls are down.

The masks are off.

You can see who you really are.

I've embraced my night owl and turned it into my full time personality.

I hate barriers.

I despise the falseness that is modern day society.

When did being yourself turn into something that should be feared?

Locked away?

Hidden from the world.

When I was younger I loved to climb trees and read and eat apples like a horse.

Then I turned thirteen and those things weren't cool.

Climbing trees was for boys and toddlers.

Reading was for losers.

Eating too many apples makes you annoying and fat.

I would talk about what I would do if I could go back but lets move forward.

I read fiction books about romance and magic because I'm the biggest loser you've ever met.
I climb trees because I am a teenage boy.

And to this day apples are still my favorite meal.

(Like I can eat four in under a minute I'm literally insane.)

Why is is that we linger in the idea that its okay for others to tell us how we should act and who we should be?

How we should talk.

How we should love.

Who we should love.

What we should wear.

Never forget you are your own person so screw anyone who tells you anything otherwise.

Embrace your inner night owl.

Build bridges not walls.

Young and Dumb

I snap the top of the lighter with my thumb.  An orange flame escapes from this little plastic tube.  I put the cigarette to my mouth followed by the flame.  I inhale and smoke coats my lungs like silk.  This is what it is to be young and dumb I think.  I exhale and smoke arises mixed with steam due to the cold.  There’s a cut on my thumb and I stare at it for a moment.  It’s a dark red scab now but what’s truly befalling is that I have no idea how it got there.  This is how my life goes.  Bruises and bumps just appear on my body and I have no idea how they get there.  I’m about 50% clumsiness, 40% forgetfulness and 10% of an attempt at a personality.  I pick up my satchel and throw the strap over my head.  I float back to the school parking lot where I can see all the parked cars.  I start naming who’s who.  I stop at the top of the parking lot.  I look down at my boots.  Scuffed and to worn out considering I just got them.  I look back at the school.  I could get caught I tell myself.  But I ignore this statement by taking in another puff of my cig and continue to slowly kill my lungs.  I know as soon as I enter that school again I will be judged, criticized, and talked bad about.  Teachers will tell me I don’t try hard enough and students will scoff.  I don’t care.  Caring to much is the problem.  Caring to much is their problem.  I take one last puff of my cig before rolling out the ash.  I watch the little light slowly go out.  The though returns to me as I reenter the school building.  This is what it is to be young and dumb.




(Old writing but still one of my favorite pieces.) 

Long time no see

I think that time off is healthy.  I haven't written in months and I know I know I suck.  The last time I wrote something it was about how I felt empty.  I was at one of the lowest points in my life and I had given up on almost everything.  I just figured I'd spare you guys the sap story that is my life.  

Anyway.

Happy thoughts.

.

.

.

I graduated so that's fun right.  Actually I'm kinda bummed.  All my friends were teachers which is lame I realize that but I've never been good at connecting with the youth my age.   I'm better at talking politics and budget cuts then I am talking about Instagram and who is dating who.  I spent thirteen years of my life going to school and now I'm done.  I feel weird.  Like its not real and I'm going to wake up any second now and its going to be freshman year all over again.  Gah to be fifteen again.  To know what I know now.  I'd tell myself to study harder.  I'd tell myself to not take stupid stuff to heart.  I'd tell my self not to fall in love with impossible men......I'd beat that one into my head pretty well.  How long I spent thinking and dreaming about things that wouldn't even matter to me now.  How stupid and innocent I was.

Onto bigger and better things they say.

Bigger 

&

Better

things

I mean what is the point of graduating school to just go to more school?

What the hell is that about?

I mean the only difference is now they get to charge you for it.

I mean I plan on conforming but it just doesn't seem okay to be bluntly honest.

I'm going to spend the next four years of my life going to more school to graduate from more school and then finally begin my career which is going to be me.  Teaching students at guess where?  School.  Full circle.  Aesthetically pleasing.

Well from now on I plan on being honest.  I plan on being me and not the version I know all the church goers on Facebook expect me to be.  Guess what guys?

The real Hanna Mckae Thompson swears.

The real Hanna Mckae Thompson isn't religious.

She isn't fake anymore and shes not the least bit sorry.

If you don't like swearing then that's okay read no further.

If you don't like people that aren't religious then sucks to suck.

I'm done pretending to be some one I'm just not anymore.

If that bothers you then I really don't care but feel free to unfollow me.

This isn't meant to be the least bit hateful I'm just being honest for the first time in my entire life and damn 

does

 it

 feel

 good.

So

I guess I'm free to speak freely now.

 It's funny though because I've run out of things to say.

Empty

                When bad things happen to me I don’t blame the person who did them to me nor do I hold it against them.  I wonder what I did wrong.  How I let myself let anywhere near me.  Why I was so weak or why I was so stupid.  I didn’t have a horrible childhood.  I don’t have a drug addiction.  And I don’t have some disease that no one knows about.  Yet all my life I feel as though I’ve been hiding.  Hiding from something I do not know.   I keep myself guarded not just to keep them from hurting me but to keep me from hurting them as well.  If they get too close they will see how empty I am and that is why I hurt them.  I turn the other cheek.  I pretend as though they do not exist.  What’s really crazy is I still have this illusion that one day I will find someone who loves me.  You can’t love a black hole that doesn’t let anyone near it and that is the stone cold truth.  I was born with this emptiness.  It was neither forged nor stolen.  Simply born with the rest of me.  I don’t feel the same things others feel.  Jokes they think are funny I find meaningless.  Things that make others cry I don’t even blink at.  I guess you could say that makes me crazy or a psychopath but it’s not like I don’t have emotions.  I have the ability to laugh and to cry.  I just don’t do it genuinely all that often.  I think all things through logically before they even happen.  I think every scenario out that could ever possibly happen.  I am never surprised.  I think that has led to my doubt in many things like religion and friends and the existence of love.  If you expect something to happen nothing will happen.  It’s a science like watching a flower or a plant grow.  Watching it grow everyday it will seem to grow at a very slow rate or not at all as if watching it makes it not happen.  In my opinion it’s the same thing with thoughts and miracles.  If you think it will happen it won’t.  It’s a science fact as far as I am concerned.

  Sorry to disappoint. 

The Wanting

I want to know everything about you.  

Your thoughts.  

Your fears. 

  Where you grew up. 

  Where you played when you were little.  

Your favorite hide away spots.  

I want to know what jobs your parents had and all the nicknames they had for you. 

  I want to know all about your siblings. 

  What kind of pets did you have? 

  I want to know about your first real horrible heart break.  

I want to know your favorite color and your dream destination. 

  I want to know your favorite sport.  

How many bones have you broken if any.

  I want to know all the movies that have make you cry.  

I want to know your favorite subjects and your goals. 

  I want you to tell me all about yourself and never stop.  

You can go on for hours I don’t mind.  

I want you to tell me I matter to you and that you want me to know everything about you. 

  Tell me you have feelings for me. 

  I want you to come clean and tell me everything. 

  I need you to come clean and tell me everything.

2:47am

I lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling.  I think about my school.  I think about my friends.  I think about the test I'm going to have that day.  I think about my mom.  I think about my future.  I think about him.  I think about him a lot.  The way he walks.  The way he talks.  His smile.  His laugh.  I hate him.  I hate him because I love him.  I hate him because I can't stop loving him.  He's Insensitive and mean.  He's caring and kind.  He's selfish.  He's selfless.  He's arrogant and stubborn.  He's sweet and witty.  He's like a bipolar disorder.  One day I hate him.  One day I love him.  He's a waste of my time.  Yet I waste hours on him.  It's 2:47 am and I'm struggling not to cry.  It's 2:47 am and I can't help but think of him.  It's 2:47 am and my mind is at war with thoughts of him.  It's 2:47 am and I have given up.  It's 2:48 am and my mind goes blank.

Phobias and Fears

Pho·bi·a; noun; an extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to something.  Have you ever asked someone what their greatest fear is?  What they are scared of the most?  Well today I’m coming clean.  I have a multitude of irrational fears.  But today I would like to touch on only two.  I would also like to say that these are not meant to offend anyone.  I am not against any views that you have this is just about something’s that physiologically psyche me out. 

The first is the dark.  I've been afraid of the dark since before I can remember.  What’s funny though is that as I grew older I realized it’s not the dark I’m afraid of,  it’s what’s in the dark that scares me.  The unknown creatures and demons that lurk in those shadows and dark hallways.  We kid ourselves when we say that it’s nothing but our imaginations.  In the dark we are nothing but vulnerable.  Completely open.  Unaware of movement around us.  Unaware of eyes staring at us.  It’s truly terrifying how much we depend on sight.  We are so strong but you take away one of our five senses and we are rendered powerless.  So that my dear friends is why I am 17 years old and still afraid of the dark.

My other fear is more of a Phobia.  It’s also very strange and not intended to offend anyone.  I am completely terrified of Drag Queens.  Yes, I know I can hear you all gasping and asking why or thinking I just hate people who are different.  Get that thought out of your head right now, because I love everyone for the most part.  Actually I think I just hate everyone equally.  Well anyway what scares me about drag queens is the thick make up and the wigs and I am literally having an anxiety attack as I write this.  I saw this thing on TV where this old man dressed up like an old woman to kill girls.  Freaked me out something fierce.  I also used to work the night shift at McDonald's and we would get waves of Asheville’s night life which included drag queens. For some reason I freak out.  I can’t take it emotionally.  Don’t ask me why because I can’t give you a good enough explanation.  Sorry but that’s just how it is.

Being afraid of something isn't bad.  It’s not a weakness either.  It’s healthy to know your limits and to know what you can and cannot do.   Embrace your fears and face them if you’re that kind of person.
  (I’m not mostly because I’m a wimp.) (Sorry.) (Not sorry.)

Adventures

It is funny.  As we grow older, we become less aware of our surroundings.  We think that time moves faster when really were just not paying attention to what is changing around us.  We grow accustom to the world and we stop trying to learn new things.  We stop analyzing our surroundings.  We stop wondering how things work and just accepting that they do.  “This is fact and facts cannot be dis-proven,” we tell ourselves on a daily basis when really we barely know how to tell fact from fiction.  We think we know everything and that we are all grown up now.  In actuality, we are still children.  Children who fight, play, and get into trouble.  We touch hot stoves and learn lessons.  We sometimes lie because we are afraid of punishment.  However, we continue to tell ourselves a lie that we are grown up.  We are self-reliant.  We know everything we need to know about the world and that is that.  What happened to exploring?  What happened to adventures?  Just because the world is all mapped out does not mean there are not things still yet to be seen.  We have grown fat and lazy in our carbon copy homes and our runoff the mill office jobs.  We forget what it is like to run, explore, and dream.  We forget what it is like to do these things for fun.  We forget that sometimes facts can be dis proven and sometimes we can be the one to disprove them.  It is not too late to go on an adventure.  It’s not too late to chase your dreams.  It’s never too late.  So get off your laptop and go to Switzerland or Spain or Africa just go.  You’re never too old to go on an adventure just remember that.

Best Qualities

I like when he remembers things.  Little things.  Things I didn't realize he even heard or paid attention to.  He’ll mention things like my family or friends that I talked about nearly a month ago.  He’ll say things like “Don’t you Hate nuts?”, “You want to be a bio teacher right?” or something along the lines of “You wouldn't do that, that’s against your views.”  He pretends he doesn't listen.  He makes it a point to say he doesn't listen.  But I know he does.  His favorite thing to do is write my name like “Hannah.” When he knows I hate it.  He says “I forgot” but I say “No you just like when I get angry and you do it on purpose.”  He just smiles.  I would kill to keep that smile on his face forever.  Not his time to take a picture smile, Time to fake it smile, but his I am generally happy smile.  That smile touches my heart in a certain type of way.  He’s so funny too really he is without even knowing it.  He makes funny faces at things and climbs on things.  At times he acts like a child and I like that about him as well because he’s just so oblivious to the world that he doesn't care.  A part of me wants to take care of that innocence he has.  Listening though that is what I love most about him.  He talks I listen.  I talk He pretends not to listen.  It’s a balance.  It’s beautiful. 

Communication

I can feel him looking at me.  I see him out of my pareferal.  My movements slow so I can perfect them.  This is how we communicate.  Subtle glances and faint smiles.  We are sarcastic soulmates I think to myself.  It all means something.  Something means everything.  An hour ago I asked him if I was mean as I gave him a Hershey kiss.  He smiled and said ''yes'' I smiled back knowing what I know.  Taking in his dry and awkward compliment.  This is how we communicate.  We talk through our eyes and insults.  Neither fully penetrating nor causing harm.  He looks at me again, I look back he looks away.  He is not beautiful yet he has grown beautiful in my eyes.  His wit and charm match mine like a glove.  I smile while writing this because for a third time he has begun to stare.  Yet melencoly quickly overtakes me at the same pace the truth does.  This is how we communicate and this is all it will ever be.

Mix tapes and Pudding

                So I don’t know about you but I had a pretty interesting yet normal day today.   I woke up at 8:30 to an empty house as one does when all the adults have jobs and the other kids are at our dads.  I cleaned the kitchen so my mom would be surprised when she got home.  After I finished cleaning I made myself hot cocoa and Hershey’s pudding (all for myself of course).  Then I watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s for about the billionth time.  After that I watched every science video on YouTube I could find (because I’m a science nerd naturally).  When my sweet mother arrived home she gave me praises for cleaning the kitchen without being told to.  About an hour after she arrived home I started making a mix tape.  I know what you’re thinking “A mix tape?  What year is it again?  1989?”  For everyone’s information I am the proud owner of two cassette players.   And my mix tape which is now finished has songs from every era since the 1960’s.  And yes I am that girl that thinks she was born in the wrong generation. 

I am completely convinced that every good song has already been written.  I only ever hear repeats of the same beats and lyrics now a days that it’s almost pathetic.  There is no originality left for the future because it was all used up in the past.  But that’s just my two cents. *Wink*

With Much

Love,

Lil Red

♥

Free as the Wind

Have you ever read the yellow wallpaper?  If you haven’t I definitely recommend it.  It’s about a woman who is mentally ill and her husband (who is a physician) thinks he can cure her by isolating her with only her thoughts and this ugly yellow wall paper.   The isolation slowly drives her insane and she believes there is a woman in the wall paper and in the end she becomes the woman in the wallpaper.

I think that’s like me.  This town is my yellow wallpaper and I’m trapped in it.  People think I’ll get over it.  But I’m like the wind in a box.  I have to move.  I have to feel.   I have to feel everything.  I want to climb mountains in Switzerland and drive across every state in America.  I want to write a book about the wind as a human.  Like a spirit trapped in a body.  Like something unattainable made attainable.

The wind and me are connected.  I remember when I was little and I would think about running away and the wind would blow back to home almost telling me not to.  It always points me in the right direction and I think it’s almost time for me to finally leave and be free like the wind.

With much 

Love,

Lil Red

҉

Five Languages of Love

I have this wacky yet pretty awesome chemistry teacher that basically spends more than half the class teaching us stuff that has nothing to do with chemistry.  Well the other day he taught us the five languages of love.  Which are:

1.       Acts of Service

2.       Quality Time

3.       Words of affirmation

4.       Physical touch

5.       Gifts

It’s pretty random and dorky I know but it got me thinking.  Which one am I?   You can have a primary and a secondary one.

Obviously I’m not physical touch considering I have a deep dislike for hugs.  Nor is it words of affirmation only because I have become numb to peoples insults and compliments.  So words in general have little to no effect on me.  I don’t believe I’m an acts of service kind of girl either because people do things for me all the time and I don’t really appreciate them as much as I should.

That just leaves quality time and gifts.  Now I do enjoy my fair share of gifts but I’d give anything to just cuddle with someone for a couple of hours.  Or take a nap or do something anything we don’t even have to talk because I enjoy silence and I enjoy spending time without meaningless chatter.  That’s how you know someone is real.  They don’t need to keep talking and they can just be content with how things are.  I mean don’t get me wrong I do love gifts I would just have to say quality time is my primary and gifts is my secondary.

It’s funny though.  My wacky chemistry teacher talks about his wife like she’s a god among men.  He holds her on the highest respect.  One of my friends said this one day “I just want someone to talk about me like he talks about his wife.”   Honestly I’ve put that on the list now because I believe that really there is no excuse and all men and woman should talk about their spouse like they are the best thing that has ever happened to them.

So there you have it.  A life lesson from my wacky chemistry teacher who spends half his time talking about guns and the other half actually reaching his students on a personal level not just a superficial level.  I think we need a class about that where students can ask about life and other issues.  That would be a lot more useful than algebra.

With Love,

Lil Red

♥

My bestfriend

      Recently my best friend started a blog and in her first post she talked about me it was only a brief description but I thought I'd return the favor. 

 

      My best friend,  if you asked me to describe her in one word I'd tell you that was impossible because she is so much more than just one word.  She's like a broken pane of glass.  So many pieces all different shapes and sizes.  All reflecting something different.  She's crazy of course but who honest to goodness isn't.  But between all that craziness she's one of the most put together people I know.  She's strong even though she has no idea. She's way prettier than she realizes too.  She takes care of me more than I deserve and I honestly owe her my life because she has more than once talked me back into sanity.  She loves me despite my faults and my corkiness.  She never judges me ever.  

     I couldn't ever possibly ask for a better best friend.  And I think that somewhere whether or not god exists we knew each other.  It might have been in heaven. Or our atoms could have come from the same star billions and billions of years ago.  All I know is that girl is my sister one way or another. And I love her with all my heart.

Loves, 

Lil Red