“Long live the King” my haND SLIPPED AGAIN
Hi, I’m Hannah and I need to tell a little story.
Nothing fancy, no knights fighting dragons and no ladies in towers.
Nope, this is my story.
I’ve got to put this out there somewhere and tumblr seems as good a place as any. Names have been changed and details have been made vague for the purpose of not offending anyone.
First you all should know that as a young child, I was very shy. I didn’t like talking to anyone unless I was spoken to, and I didn’t have friends that I could see every day. Any friends I had came from a special class at another school I took once a week for smart kiddies. I’m the only adopted child of a single mother and didn’t have siblings or a non-busy parent to talk to. During this time, when I was at my normal school, I was bullied a lot for race. The population was all black (quite literally, there were no other white students until the fourth grade) and none of them ever held me in the same regard as they would any other. I was just “that girl you could make do all your work for projects for you”. And, in a nutshell, that’s basically what I had to do, because I was still shy and couldn’t just say, “No, do your own work, I’m done.”
Things got better after that. In middle school, I had some friends who I clung closely to. But I’ll tell you right now, I never really fit in with any of them except one. They were all female, and all these girly girls who wore makeup and styled their hair and cared about how they looked (which I didn’t even remotely start doing until the 7th grade), and that was just no me. They were the only friends I had, though, and I couldn’t leave them. It’s not as if i didn’t care about them and vice versa. I was just too different from the rest. During this time, school work started to pile up on top of me. I did fine in the sixth grade, except for Pre-Algebra, which I cheerfully maintained straight D’s in, and Science, which I do believe I scored a D in during the last quarter of school. Nonetheless I somehow passed the grade and seventh grade was better. That was the only year when I didn’t fail anything (mostly because of being removed from the gifted class in a couple subjects, much to my joy). But then I got up to eighth grade. It was fun at first, I liked the classes, and none of it was very hard. I loved Geometry and US History, I could breeze through English without trying, and my Science class was fairly fun. So what ruined it?
My art teacher.
Now, the school I attended was a school of the arts, and each kid had to choose a certain section of the arts to specialize in, whether it was visual art, dance, drama, music, etc. and me, having a knack for drawing, chose art. But this lady, she was never happy with anything. And I don’t think it was entirely intentional. But it was always her I was trying to avoid. I started missing school, sometimes just once every couple of weeks, but then towards the end of the year, nearly every day until I just pretty much stopped except for finals week. My friends were anime fans and were always caught up in some new fandom that no one would ever bother to tell me about, and so I really didn’t care about going to school to see them. Somehow I still passed the grade and life moved on.
It’s worth noting that during the eighth grade (I believe, possibly seventh) was when I met a boy on the internet, three years older than I was, that we shall call Tom. But he comes more into play later.
So I moved on to high school. All of my ‘friends’ that I no longer spoke with went on to the big-shot arts highschool that the middle school fell into, and I chose the most remote school I could, on the other side of town, that offered more academics than arts. I decided that I was DONE being graded on something I wanted to do as a HOBBY, and being told that I wasn’t good enough at my hobby. (I did still end up taking an art class at this school, but it was a standard class, where everyone more or less just learns basic stuff.) I tried to do the International Baccalaureate program, and it wasn’t too bad, but since eighth grade, I’d just lost my taste for schoolwork. The work wasn’t especially challenging, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. I told myself, well what’s the point? I’m not really learning anything.
So basically, the same thing that happened at the end of eighth grade happened again, except in September and October, and I stopped getting up and going to school. I had this horrible anxiety problem (which even now I am horribly loathe to admit) and sleeping problems on top of it. (Most teenagers have insomnia, right? Nope. I had whatever you call it where I sleep fine, I stay asleep all night, but I physically cannot wake up in the morning.)
And so, October of 2011 was my last year in public school.
Anyway, mom tried to help, but honestly all she did was make me go to therapy which did not help one bit and just made me even more nervous because she was concerned for my mental stability and I didn’t want to make it any worse. She’d enrolled me in Virtual School as well, but she didn’t understand that I just couldn’t make myself do the work. NO ONE UNDERSTANDS, even now. I tried to tell them exactly what it was, that I lacked motivation. But no one even tried to help with that.
Oh yes, something I forgot to mention a little ways back was that during middle school, I went to a bus stop where I saw a friend that used to be in my smarty people’s class, who in turn helped me find another friend from that class (who, in my childhood, had been my best friend, and something you should understand before I go on is that I believe there are certain things you can tell boys that you can’t as easily tell girls, and so I keep one closest friend of each sex. This seems random now but I promise it’s relevant later). So we chatted a bit, via Facebook and e-mail, until one day she said to me, “Hey look, my church youth group does this sports thing on Wednesdays, wanna come?” Now me, being entirely disbelieving in any God whatsoever, said to myself, “Well…church…I’ll just have to hope it’s more sports than religion.” (You should understand, I was raised in a church, but it was almost an hour’s drive from my house and so I could never be involved with any Youth activities there, and no one’s teachings really connected me with anything spiritual. I thought, basically, that God was something like the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy, that parents tell their children so that they’ll behave.) Back to the point, I started attending this sports thing on the Wednesdays, and eventually my mom and I became members of said church and started to go there on Sundays as well, because, even though I still did not find myself believing in any God, the church was only a fifteen’s minutes drive (if that) and I could participate in everything that went on there. To this day I still go to that church sometimes three days a week.
Alright, going way back to virtual school and such, I eventually just left any kind of academic studies whatsoever and let myself relax for once. And you know what? It worked. I wasn’t so stressed out, I could sleep as much as I wanted every day, and everyone thought I was a failure and didn’t expect me to do anything. It was great. And that must sound really bad, but it honestly wasn’t. I developed sort of an attitude though. And that attitude was, “I am done with your bull crap, get out of my face or I will shove you out.” I was completely and totally 9001% done with life and everything that went on with it. And although this attitude faded over the past couple years, the thought behind it did not. ‘I’m done.' I decided, hey, you know what? I'm not going to let myself feel any stress. And I didn't. Anything big I shrugged off, and anything small I just put to the side and said, “I'll get to that later.” And up until this past New Year's, that was exactly what I did. In November of 2013, I took the GED test, which I passed with quite high scores, and was totally done with school. Boom, that was it, ready for college (which I still am impatient to get to). Back in November of 2012, I decided I would give God a chance as well, so I really started to pay attention more and more to the Bible and meanings in it and all that lovelyness, and really myself became a Christian over the course of 2013. I don't one bit regret it.
And then…there’s May of 2013. (And in fact it was perhaps 2012 now that I think about it, I’m really bad with time.)
You guys remember Tom, right? Okay, well here’s where he really comes into play. Over the course of a year and a half or so, about since I’d known him, Tom had been dating a girl who we’ll call Kay. (Simple names, yaaay.) But Tom was, out of everyone, my best friend. I could tell him anything, everything, and he would give me great advice or even just joke about it at all the right times. (It was around this point that I realized I quite liked him.) Well, Tom confided in me that his relationship was quite one-sided now, even though it didn’t used to be, and that he wanted out. He couldn’t leave because Kay was holding something against him, but I told him, “Look Tom, if you want to leave, you leave. Whatever she does is her fault, not yours, and she’s messed you up so badly. Get out of there.” So he did. And man, he was messed up for a couple months. He was on and offline, taking some breaks, but he got better, and I was really proud of him. We were talking one day over a dream he’d had, and one thing led to another which led me to say I’d had a crush on him before he’d dated Kay (although in truth I still did and didn’t want to say anything because of his recovery from her) and, hey, what do you know, Tom had liked me too. So we decided then that maybe, when things calmed down, we would give that relationship a try.
But…most of that time came and went and passed by, up until December of 2013. It was around that point that I’d become decent friends with another dude who will be named Jim. Jim’s about 5 years older than I am. During the month of December, Tom had been doing good. We played games together, talked almost constantly, and then, I realized, I cannot let this guy go. So I got him talking about relationships again, and he confided in me that he had a certain medical condition that had considerably shortened his life (although things were a bit unsure) and he did not want to be in a relationship where he could check out at any time. Me, being the ever loyal friend, told him in all honesty that such a thing didn’t matter to me. He was my best friend. Through much stubbornness on my part and convincing and a bit of secret crying, Tom said, “You know what? Your friendship and companionship makes me happy. I want to try this.”
And then December 9th, 2013, we started that. It’s worth noting that it was sort of a hidden thing, and the reason Tom gave was that he felt if people knew, his ex would try to start drama related to it and he didn’t want me getting involved or hurt, although a few weeks ago one of my friends pointed out that it may also be because he is over 18 and I am not.
Anyway, for all of December, things were great. I hit a high point in my life. I had really decided, this is what I needed to be happy. I have the future figured out now. And I did. Still do, roughly. There was no stress, no worry, and all my friendships were balanced and calm.
Then the crapstorm that is 2014 hit the fan.
The first couple weeks after the new year, Tom had disappeared, and I figured that he was perhaps in the hospital because the last communication I saw from his was that he was feeling quite ill, and I was not entirely wrong. So one day about halfway through January, I was talking to another friend of mine, and he told me that Tom’s sister had logged onto his account and told everyone that Tom had slipped on ice and hit his head, and was in a coma.
Now, to be honest, this didn’t worry me as much as it probably should have. Yes, I was worried, and yes, I did pray for his safety and life, but in my heart, I thought, “You know, he’s pretty indestructible. He’s going to be just fine. He’s just being lazy and sleeping for a while.”
Now Tom’s coma lasted until mid-February, I believe. At this time, I started to notice that, on his YouTube account that I had subscribed to, there were messages saying “This person added this video to their favorites,” messages that were only days or even hours old. So me being hopeful that perhaps he was awake and was just taking a break from social media for a while, I wrote an actual letter to his family and mailed it off, asking for some kind of response that he was awake. A week and a half later or so, I received a message from his sister via his Facebook account. Tom was fine. He was awake, fairly healthy, able to walk and think. But…Tom’s hit to the head had left him with amnesia. He couldn’t remember who he was, or his family, or his friends, or anything of the like.
Truthfully, this absolutely shattered my heart and soul into several thousand pieces, but I sucked up and gave strong words to his sister that he would recover and be just fine. I like being that person, you know? The one people come up to when they’re sad or crying and can depend on to be a rock for them. Yeah. I’m that one.
Anyway, I said thanks to Tom’s sister for letting me know, and a couple weeks after that, Tom himself came back to Facebook. We talked for a while, I asked him lots of questions, and it became quite clear that his sister hadn’t been exaggerating. He couldn’t remember anyone, anything, no current events, no conversations, he didn’t even remember how to use emotes, when, in the past, he used them more than he did punctuation. Those several thousand pieces of my heart and soul that were shattered? Crushed into dust by a road roller.
Last night, I was talking to Jim, and confided how I was feeling about life to him. How broken Tom’s loss of memory had left me feeling, how lost I felt, how alone. My life went from being such a high point to one of the lowest it’s ever been. My best friend, with his memory gone, who could not remember how much I loved him, more than anything. My sister, the friend from my smart people’s class, who I have in truth always held in a higher place than I ever will any friend, who struggles with her schoolwork overload and stress and some anxiety, and who I have to watch what I saw around just so I don’t accidentally offend her and lose her again. My family, hitting a financial low point and having to watch the health of my grandparents slowly decline and realizing that either of them could die any day (which is another thing that doesn’t bother me as much as it should).
The point of all this is that my stress that I never let myself feel? (Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know, hahaha.) It added up. And all of this piled on top of me at once, the friendships and the relationships and the loss of the one person who has always, without fail been there for me has ended up being the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I am sixteen years old, and I am tired of being a rock for everyone. My goal in life is to make all my friends happy, as much as I can, and being the rock lets me do that. But I’m a teenager with more problems on top of my shoulders than I want to admit. I want to break down, and cry, and sit in my room with friends that won’t judge me for that and won’t laugh that I’m broken.
For anyone that reads this entire lengthy thing and says, “Well hey, you’re not a starving African child”, please go ahead and punch yourself for me, because I am so tired of trying to tell my problems to people like you, who thinks one person’s problems are less than another.
There is nothing quite like the feeling you get when someone likes your drawing that you did for them.
A Kristanna family. From beginning to now.
THIS IS EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED FROM THE FROZEN FANDOM
Daily Hero is an art game that is meant for both fun and as an exercise. You will need a [Dice] to play the game, as fate will decide your hero. And as the title suggests, you must finish your hero the day you roll him/her.
Come join the roster
Ah, yes. Why not. :)
I need to start doing this again ;w;
You made all the males attractive when I thought there was no hope for them. You, my good artist, are a miracle-worker.
You have made it so hard to fear these villains…Great now I wanna fuck a lion
That is one sexy lion~..(I REGRET NOTHING)
Queen Elsa - full colour sketch.
Crossing fingers for Frozen and it’s team on tonight’s Golden Globes!
A work in process of this one will be uploaded later on tonight.