No one reads these.

I'm actually happy that no one reads these.
There is too much on my mind.
I'm angry and upset all the time, I don't even know where to start.
I'm single handedly ruining my own life and i'm sick of this shit.
I'm sick of everything, like I am every year at this point.
It's like happiness is just taken from me and i'm forced to live under this painful dark cloud.
I don't get a break from it, because it's just a constant pestering anger that stabs me.. i feel it in my stomach and my head.. I want to drink. A LOT.. until I don't feel it anymore...
but I don't think anything will make it all go away.
It's like I actually feel cold.
Frozen.
I just want to die.
No one reads these. i'm glad.

And so it begins...

I have, since graduation over a year ago, been dreading what is coming tomorrow morning.
University.

I'm not exactly sure if i'm excited, or scared, or stressed, or just hungry...
All I know is that I hate change.. I hate commitment.. and I absolutely hate people.

From the few mere HOURS I experienced from frosh week I can already safely say that I don't like it. Everyone is so full of school spirit and excitement.. and I just feel like i'm selling my soul.

Four years ahead of this university shit..
Then two more for my masters degree..

Fuck it all.

My view of the modelling industry.

Let’s start here.
1999.
I’m six years old and a child commercial model.
Also a runway model for the MATTEL Barbie clothing line.
Granted I didn’t have too much success.
Even as a six year old, I didn’t have ‘the right look.’
We gave up.

1999.
My sister is eleven.
She has much more success than I do.
Then she hits 12.
She’s ‘too short’ at 5’5”.
She’s dropped.

Nine years later.
2008.
My sister starts fashion photography.
I become her primary model.
It’s fun.
She gains popularity and connections from agencies.
And we meet models.
And we start to see through their eyes.
Not so fun.

Some of the models we know are absolutely content with their choice of lifestyle, but there are also quite a few who have lost the light that once shined in their piercing eyes. Some who are so broken and frail, not only in their demeanour but in their physical aspects as well. Some who have been victimized and scandalized by photographers and agents. Some, who complain and dread, but continue in hopes of their ‘big break’. And some who are so desensitized by it all that they do it because it’s all they know.

Modelling is glamourized to such an extent that young girls aspire, with all their spirit to become one of these dolled-up beauties on the cover of the popular magazines. Parents will say don’t dream of such grandeur or you would never make it… but how often do we hear them say the life of a model is stressful and heartbreaking, the world will continuously tell you you are not good enough and it could, and most likely will, kill you inside?

And that’s just it.
You will never be ‘the it girl’ in a market that changes everyday. In a world where small noses, thick eyebrows and large ears are popular one day, and the next, the exact opposite, it is only in high hopes that you will get work.

Hearing that you are not what the agency/agent/scout/booker/stylist/artist/photographer/director is looking for looking for, whether it be discreetly or bluntly becomes the norm.
Some girls can handle it.
Others break after so many cuts to their self esteem.

For privacy’s sake, I’ll call her ‘W’.
W is a friend, a model.
W was signed with a very popular modelling agency and was sent to work in Europe.
W, who is so uniquely beautiful and healthy was told that she needed to lose weight.
W decided that she needed to take control of her life, and she quit.
W is a strong and confident woman who I’m glad to call my friend.
But if she were any less confident, she could have been ripped apart.

Ultimately what I’m trying to say is that this industry is so hurtfully depressing.
It can be fun.
But it can also change you forever.

People ask me why I don’t take my modelling career further than it already is.
This is why.
Because I know my limitations. I know myself.

..And I know I would break..

For Isaac.

Today I discovered that a guy I liked and even went on a date with took his life.

We met in November at a formal, Harry Potter themed 'Yule Ball' dance, and this wonderful guy named Isaac asked me to dance... he was cute and fun and I really liked him, he even gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was so happy, the happiest I'd been since months before when when ex-boyfriend had dumped me. This random guy who I had just met, picked me from a table of girls to dance with, and had instantly made my night. We danced and talked and laughed and hugged. After the dance I wrote my name on his ticket and he on my hand. We added each other on Facebook and got to talking.
Found out we had quite a bit in common too, he seemed wonderful, I had fallen. Then he disappeared for a little while and I gave up on him...

Until February 1st... When he asked me out for sushi. I bought a new pretty blue dress and I was so excited for our date... it wasn't exactly the best date of my life, but I won't elaborate. What got me was how different he was and how off he seemed. I figured it wasn't my business to pry, so I just made small talk. When I met him, he spoke so easily to me, but on our date I had to keep up conversation. Needless to say, we only talked a little more after that. Then he disappeared again.

Today I decided I was going to delete him off of my facebook, considering the lack of communication between the two of us.. Upon reaching his page, I was painfully devastated to see the obituary for him posted on his wall... At first I didn't believe it.. but the condolences and 'rest in peace' and 'you seemed so happy' messages confirmed it. He's gone.

I spent this last month telling people about our, not-so-great date and basically not appreciating that I knew him at all...

I learned a few things from this...
Everyone you meet is important.
He made that night in November so special for me, and will always be the one who noticed me in the crowd of beautiful girls in beautiful dresses.
When you see something off, ask about it.
I don't, for one second blame myself for his death, I didn't know him too well, but when I noticed he didn't seem all there I could've easily said 'Hey, you okay?'.. maybe told him a bit about my depression issues and help him open up.
Things happen to you for a reason.
I'm one hundred percent convinced that our date wasn't the best for a reason. If it had been wonderful, I would've probably continued to date him... and where would he be now? Probably still gone... and I would just be broken. I have my fair share of problems, and as much as I don't believe in any god... there was something watching over me.. and at first I thought 'why do I get the good end of the stick, and he has to die so young?'... then I realized that it may have been a sort of relief for him.. in which case, it is what it is.

Nonetheless I'm in a state of mourning.
Even though we weren't very close, I was, at one point, head over heals for him and he was my friend... I will wear my pretty blue dress that I bought for our date and think of what a wonderful young man he was...

Isaac,
Thank you for noticing me. That night in November all I was thinking was how unwanted and unloved I was,  and how no one was going to give me the time of day, and then there was you. Who sat at our table and chatted me up, asked me to dance, and did so awkwardly and adorably. And I felt wanted, and beautiful. And you surprised me with the date, could've gone better, but again, I'm convinced that it was supposed to happen this way. Nevertheless, you were a wonderful young man, who I will miss. Wish we could've talked a bit more, or even hung out one more time... This is unreal, I hope you're resting peacefully. Sayonara tomodachi.
Yours,
AM

January 19th

Five years ago on January 19th, I experienced the worst day of my life.
I woke up to my sister who I love more than anything, screaming in immense pain. We had no idea what was wrong but she sounded like she was dying.
She was then rushed to the hospital. Luckily, (if you could say that) it was only kidney stones.
But we already had morbid plans for that exact day.. her husband (fiancé at the time)'s grandfather's funeral. I had to attend.
Even though I didn't know him, it was still a depressing situation, and I was only 14.
To watch my sister's husband in that state of sadness, his love in the hospital, his grandfather's funeral on the same day. Needless to say I was balling my eyes out.
Did I mention that on the way to the funeral a bird crapped on my head? yeah.

It is said that when a bird poops on your head it means good luck... well the luck didn't show itself for the next few years..
Every year on that day, bad things would happen, I'd fall into my depression and I would be scared to leave home...
Until this year.
Last night my sister (the same one from above), and her husband came over to tell my parents, other sister and me some very exciting news.
Unfortunately I'm not allowed to say exactly what it is until two months from now... but I can hint.
It involves my sister ... there's something in her tummy, and this time, it's definitely not kidney stones.

The first January 19th that has brought me extreme happiness in years.
I thank the bird.