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In memory of Ms. A. Cerullo, Italy

Hello my fuzzy little batbutts.

~The following content is a news article~
Recently they have found the body of Ms. A. Cerullo on the street outside of her apartment in Venaria, Italy where she lived with her family. According to police authorities they suspect she has jumped out after repetitive harassments on Ask.fm, which is a site where you can ask people questions anonymously.
She left one message behind her: “There is no tomorrow” and then jumped from the sixth floor.
Investigations has shown that there has been people, one in perticuliar who told her to commit suicide with the statement: “Kill yourself, you’re a dog!” Another person attacked her appearance: “You’re hideous. How old are you – you look like a ten year old”.

According to Italian media, Ms. Cerullo is the third girl in Italy who has committed suicide as a result of harassments on Ask.fm in the last 12 months. Her computer and phone has been confiscated by police to be able to answer the question: “Why?” Her said in an article in the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera that: “We don’t know why she did it. She felt like she was ugly and claimed that she would never be able to get a boyfriend.”
~Information taken from “Nyheter 24”, link shared via my FaceBook contacts~

This is a very sad story, not only that she was only 14 years old, but also that she fell victim for online harassments, cyber bullying, threats and several other factors that made her life feel too miserable to do anything about it. This is what I want to stop, it’s not easy to prevent it when it’s all you and the other person who sends these harassing e-mails or messages, especially on anonymous asking sites (no disrespect to Ask.fm, I personally know several people who uses it). No one is ever too ugly, no one is ever too bad for anyone, love and confidence can show up in the weirdest ways sometimes. Sometimes you need that help or third person who takes no side in the conflict and that can listen to you and try to help and keep you able to manage until things changes for the better. Compliments can make such a big difference for teenagers, there is a unknown world out there online that can lead to disastrous consequences for the relatives and for the victim alone.

We are here for a reason, to make people aware of these activities, to offer our help to people who need someone to talk to and to just talk to someone to let it out that they know won’t tell his/her friends or family about it. The stories given to us are well kept, we listen to you, together we can spread the word of Our voice and we can help more people to prevent bad things like these to happen again. Thinking about it, this was all cyber bullying but it was as affective as ever. It has to stop!

In memory of Aurora Cerullo, 14 years old, Venaria, Italy.

Contact us for any information at ourvoiceproject@hotmail.com
Our new BETA blog website and it will soon be out.
Spread the word or message us to ask or talk about anything if you want.
Together we can make change, together we’re strong!

Yours sincerely
Zaracaz

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Numb&Radio

I just watched a video on Youtube, uploaded by someone I hope to consider a friend in the future. It was a music video that he’d made. No, it wasn’t my kind of music at all, but I can appreciate a good artist when I hear or see one.
He’s really, really good. Honestly.
I watched three videos, but the two that got to me were Numb and Radio. The lyrics are amazing, and he expresses his emotions through those songs really well, like I (try to) do here on the blog. What I got from that was frustration, confusion, loneliness, anger and dislike for himself.
This is basically my answer to those songs.
Just the start of Numb was enough to bring tears to my eyes… And Radio left me speechless.

I understand how you feel. I really do. If you take a look at the rest of the blog, you’ll see that.
When you feel like you don’t know what to do with yourself, that you just want to leave, that it’s too much, or that there isn’t enough, think about what you want to do in the world. From what I gather, you, like myself, want to make a difference somehow. When you don’t know what to do, put your focus and energy into making a difference. Distract yourself with it.
That feeling that the world isn’t enough, yet it’s too much, too real, is horrible. It feels like you’re being torn apart, and you just want to scream and run away from it. It’s lonely, because you don’t know who to turn to, you don’t know who you can trust to help you, to give your life a true meaning, and take the pressure off your shoulders from everything else.

It’s true that I don’t know you very well, but I want to help. I’m not the only one that wants to help either. Do you know what the first thing I noticed about you was? A photo you’d uploaded. The dark one, with the moon and the words “All I want is someone who won’t leave…” written on it. That photo and the fact that you’d uploaded it, was what made me decide to help my friend talk to you. She really wants to be able to talk to you, but she’s shy and we didn’t know how you’d react. I sent you a message in hopes that we could become friends someday. It’s only today that I’ve really listened to your music, but it’s really good, and nothing’s wrong with you. Maybe you are in your own Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know how to help you if you are, except for be there if you ever want to talk to my friend or myself.
We’ve all felt the way you feel at some point. I know it doesn’t take the pain or loneliness away, but we got through it and might be able to help you.

‘Would it be a problem if I left my body right, right now?’ to be honest with you, yes it would be. We’d miss you!
“Can anyone hear me when I scream?”
We can hear you even when you whisper. You’re an amazing artist, and whatever’s happened to you… you can’t let it take over completely. You’ll get through it, I promise.
I know you can’t make lemonade out of it, so just squeeze the hell out of those lemons. No more, no less.
“Nothing to say, ’cause no one understands me.”
Maybe we don’t understand you, and maybe we never will, but we understand certain situations and the feelings that come with those situations. No one can understand a person completely, and all the fun would go out of the friendship/relationship/etc.
Human beings in general want to get to know each other, and to do that, they have to not understand each other. What’s the fun of getting to know someone you already understand?

I lose myself in music on bad days too, and my friend does too. Keep letting go of everything when you listen to music, it’s good for you!

Well, my lovely readers, this is probably pointless to you if you haven’t listened to the songs, so here are the links to the songs. I hope you see the emotion in them like I do, and I hope you support him!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zVXUAR5k3s
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8wgr6759Hy0

This is the end of this post… it feels like something is missing, I know. It’s the emotion that I express for the person that I’m writing about. I know near to nothing about this person, all I have from his emotions are what you get in those songs and some photos. If I ever get to know him better and he lets me express some of his emotions on here, I’ll edit this post to do so.

Take care of yourselves and remember that we’re here to help! You can contact us at ourvoiceproject@hotmail.com
xxxMeiskiexxx

M’s Story

Meiskie again here!
How is everyone doing?
I’ve been surprisingly okay lately, emotionally especially. Physically I’m doing better than usual, but I’ve gained a couple of problems already this year.
I suddenly got the urge to post something that will stay with you. I don’t know if it should be good or bad, but here goes nothing. I’m going to have a look-see around and see if I find anything. The rest of this post will be written when I’ve done that. Let’s hope it’s soon. It’s 17/02/2014. Let’s see when I publish this.
Okay, well… it’s now 18/02/2014.
First of all, I’d like to thank Zaracaz for all the laughs and good times we’ve had in the past 22 months.
Second of all… My best friend, M, is letting me publish her story. I believe that so far we haven’t had any domestic abuse stories on here… bullying, gender abuse and abuse received by your partner; but not from parents yet.
Well, M’s story is the first(?) one of that type that we’re publishing here. Obviously, it’s close to home for me, because it’s my best friend that this has happened too, and it makes me really angry, because I’ve slept over at her place and I thought that her parents were really nice. I was wrong. Her dad is really nice, but her mum doesn’t deserve to be called a mother.
I’ve asked M to write down everything that’s happened to her on a piece of paper and give it to me tomorrow, so I can publish the full story. I only know a few fragments of it, so I want to get the full story. So, I guess that tomorrow I will finish this blog post if I have time.
It’s 20/2/2014. Obviously, I didn’t have time yesterday. I don’t have much time today either, because I’ve got an exam tomorrow and I have to study… but first, I’d like to wish Z a very, extremely happy birthday today! And, if it’s your birthday today too, happy birthday to you!
I’m going to start M’s story now. I’m going to write it in third person, though I will have quotes from what she wrote(translated from Spanish to English).
M has gone through as much as I have, if not more. Her mum has bullied her for as long as she can remember, which is since she was about 4 years old. Her mum treated her like a mannequin, a doll, a toy to play with and then throw to the side when she got bored.
She bullied M mentally and physically, until M cried. Trust me, in the time that I’ve known her, I think she’s only cried once or twice. It takes A LOT to make M cry. Her mother hurt her that much.
M has got dark hair and dark skin, or at least darker than northern europeans, and her mum called her a lot of offensive names because of it. Gypsy, nigger, witch, etc. that caused M’s self-esteem problems and hyperhidrosis(which appeared from constant anxiety and nerves about what would happen to her). This was all during her infancy, and it affected her even more when her mum would hit her for no reason, go around saying that she was a bad daughter and making herself the victim.
M, up to 2 or 3 years ago, had a reaaaaaally low self-esteem. It was non-existent. Worse than mine, and my self-esteem was pretty damn low.
That wasn’t the worst part though. At school, M got bullied really badly, by everyone. And then, when she got home it would continue. Her mum blamed her for everything that went wrong, even when she hadn’t been around. One example is when dinner didn’t taste exactly right, or it wasn’t quite right because she was too lazy to do it properly, she blamed it on M.
-I feel so lazy, lazy, lazy! 6/03/2014-
She made M lonely, she shouted at her, she used her to get what she wanted, she said horrible things to her, she insulted her, she said that no one loved her,she said that no one could put up with her, M wasn’t allowed to play with anyone at that age, etc.
M had her human rights, but her mother took them away from her. She stole M’s stuff, she broke M’s stuff on purpose so that M didn’t have anything to play with, and she said that it was M’s fault that they broke. That’s not to mention all the bad situations she got M into by tricking her and setting her up.
When M was 9, she started developing her own character, she started to become herself, but her mum became jealous. Really, really jealous, just because M had her own personality and she didn’t, so she got even worse.
This is something M told me a few months ago:
When M was 7 or 8 years old, her mum and her had gone out to buy sweets together. M’s mum said that they would share half each.
M’s mum said to not eat the sweets before dinner, but she went and ate her half of the bag. Then M wanted to get just the one sweet, because her mum had eaten her’s and she didn’t know why she couldn’t have some, and M’s mum freaked. She took the bag of sweets away, grabbed M’s arm and pushed her against the corner of the table. M’s back got injured, and her mum just kept pushing her against the table, grabbed one of her legs and pushed it up further than it could go, so M’s leg also got injured. She kept M like that for a few minutes, using her own body to push her against the corner of the table, one hand holding her arm in a death-grip, and the other hand pushing her leg to a painful angle, far further than M’s flexibility allowed.

This last part is going to be a direct(translated) quote from M herself.
“One detail to let you get an idea of everything is that I was the pillar of strength that supported my family, I took all the pressure from the family, I had to fix the problems while I received extreme bullying at school(everyday I got home crying, I spent the hours at school alone while everyone insulted me and hit me. I’ve lost count of how many sprains, bruises and other injuries I had, all over my body.) and add to that everything my mother did to me. But, despite all that, I was always happy, smiling and everything(I don’t know how). A lot of teenagers say to their mums “I hate you” “Go to Hell” when they just try to help or they’re worrying. I say to my mum “I love you a lot” when she was the person that has caused me the most pain and problems. I don’t know what to think, maybe I’m weird or something…”

That is sad. It’s sad and painful and horrible, and no one should be treated that way by their mother, yet M still told her mum that she loved her.
I asked M why she didn’t report her mum to the police once. Her answer was that her mum is a bitch, and she’s not worthy of being called a mum, but she’s still her mum, and the only mum she’d ever have. That’s why she never reported her.

I haven’t got anything else to say, this is pretty much self-explanatory.
Please contact us if you want to tell us your story, ask advice or anything else at ourvoiceproject@hotmail.com
Z is also setting up a WordPress blog. I’ll start posting on there soon too.
Please take care of yourselves, remember that there are other people in your situation, there is always someone you can talk to and your parents are the only parents you’ll ever have. What M went through is really sad, but she still loves her mum. If she can still love her mum, we can all tell our parents that we love them, even if we do fight with them every once in a while.

We’re here.
xxxMeiskiexxx

The new Our Voice Project website

I am exited to inform you all that this is our new website that will be more and more active within time!
With new pages, polls, opportunities to share, quicker ways to message us and multiple opportunities to follow us
I am looking forward to keep working with this page, start sharing this and do good to people who need it.
Share, follow us, leave a message and tell your friends, the new Our Voice Project [BETA] is here.

//Zaracaz

Memory Lane

I think I’ve mentioned in Meiskie’s Story about my brother having cancer and being in hospital for some time.
Lately, I’ve been talking in class about it, to my friends and with my family, reliving the bittersweet memories of  the amazing Planta 4 of the children’s hospital that my brother was in at the young age of 9.
In late 2006, just before my brother’s 10th birthday, the doctors told us that my brother had cancer. My mother cried. I don’t remember how I reacted, I was only 8 at the time, I didn’t quite understand it. I knew it was bad, but not quite how bad. My brother knew exactly what it was, and he just seemed to accept his fate there and then.
My mum called my dad, who was away at that time, working, and told him about my brother. He booked the first flight back home, while my mum drove back home, dropped me off at our neighbours’ and then took off to the hospital. She left the house keys with our neighbours and we went to my house to get some of my stuff. We also packed some clothes for my brother and for my mother.
I stayed home with the woman, while the husband drove to the hospital to drop off my mum and bro’s clothes. He stayed there until my daddy came home. I spent three days at my neighbours’ house, and they took good care of me, making sure I was okay, calling my mum every evening so I could talk to her, taking me to school and telling the school what had happened.
One of my parents, I can’t remember which one, came home on the third day and from then on they took turns in staying home. Two days mum, two days dad. This was all in September. I didn’t see my brother until his birthday, in the third week of October. It’s amazing how much people can change in the space of five-six weeks. My brother had started chaemotherapy, he was starting to lose his honey-blonde hair, his cheeks were puffed up from the medication and he was pale and skinny. I certainly didn’t expect it, but he was still my big brother, and it was his birthday, so we made the most of it. I think we handled it quite well, and no one cried. We played in the games room together and my brother introduced me to some of the children he’d met there. I don’t remember their names, and I don’t remember what they looked like, but I do remember that they were all happy. Just happy and optimistic. The fact that they all had cancer didn’t seem to bother them in the slightest. They just accepted it and lived their hospital lives however they could.
There is one boy who I remember quite clearly. His name started with an H, so I’ll refer to him by that.
H was a little two-year old who just didn’t seem to stop smiling. He blabbered, he giggled and he smiled. He was always happy.
The first time I saw him was on my brother’s birthday. My brother really liked that little boy, and he took me to his room to visit him. The next time I saw H, he was in his hospital bed, being rolled into the lift with two broken legs, crying his eyes out and screaming. He’d broken both legs when he fell over, down the stairs at home. The chaemotherapy caused him infinite amounts of pain, and he couldn’t have any morphine. I never saw him again after that. He died a few weeks after I saw him like that. That’s what cancer does to people. To little children who never did anything wrong.
In the rest of the time my brother was there, another two children died. I never met them.
After my brother’s birthday, I didn’t see him until November. My mum had told me that I was the glue holding the family together, and damn me if I didn’t age 5 years when she said that. My brother was allowed out of hospital  for Christmas, but he was back inside again on Boxing Day.
On the 9th of January, 2007, I went to hospital to see my brother, as it was my 9th birthday. I met K then. I will tell you more about him later.
My brother had been put on the transplant list, for a bone-marrow transplant. His immune system was very low, he couldn’t walk, his body had stopped growing, but his feet hadn’t. They grew from a size 36 to a 42 in the space of 6 months. This caused his feet to be deformed, though they couldn’t do anything about it until after the transplant, because the transplant would affect his growth too.
I didn’t see him much at all in the next three months. I’d had two or three blood tests done, to see if I could donate my bone-marrow, to see if I could donate blood and to see if I could donate platelets for after the transplant. I was not a compatible donor for any of the above.
My brother got really lucky. They’d found a bone-marrow donor for him in Germany. We still don’t know who it was, but we want to thank that person for saving my brother’s life. We found a platelet donor in our own village, who we still keep in contact with and thank her every time we see her. The blood wasn’t so hard for the doctors to deal with and they soon found a donor.
On April 4th, the day after my dad’s birthday, my brother was released from the sterile room where he’d had his transplant. The best birthday present my dad ever got.
To be able to have the transplant, my brother’s immune system had to be brought down to 0, he couldn’t have any platelets in his blood, which means his blood didn’t coagulate; he had a lot of sessions of radiotherapy, and he was in a white, sterile room for a month, on morphine.
One day, out of nowhere, he got a nosebleed. He had no platelets to coagulate his blood, so the bleeding didn’t stop until hours later. The doctors had a hard time then. Between the bleeding nose and him begging for more morphine, it was hard.
I went to visit him, but I couldn’t go in the room with him. I had to talk to him through a phone and look at him through a big glass window. He was asleep most of the time, but the short time he was awake and lucid, he managed to talk to me. My parents made sure to take me away before he asked for more morphine. Only after he got out of the room did my parents tell me that my brother had been a morphine addict during his entire stay in that room, from the amounts they pumped into him.
After that, my brother was on the slow road to recovery. This year it’s going to be eight years since my brother got diagnosed, and he still has to go for check-ups. There was one time a couple of years ago that we thought the cancer had come back, but it hadn’t. The first two or three years, my brother spent a month in hospital, a week at home, then a month, two weeks, etc.  up until now. He now goes to the hospital once every six months for a check-up and comes home that same day.
As for my brother’s feet… he was so weak when he came of out that room that he couldn’t walk, especially because of his feet. My dad made him a type of bike thing that my mother made him pedal on for 20 minutes every day. He used to cry because it hurt and he didn’t want to. If he hadn’t, he would be in a wheelchair.
Medication: for the first few months, he was on thirty-six different kinds of pills, injections and liquids, three times a day. There was one I remember very clearly. Sandimun. Three times a day, in orange juice to mask the flavour. My brother threw up nearly every time he took it, because of the flavour. He begged my parents to not make him have it.
My brother got really sensitive skin and got a rash on his face and his buttocks. My mum used to cry while she applied the cream on his skin, because my brother would be in pain and crying. I always tried to stay away, but it isn’t easy when your bedroom is two meters away.
None of us are the same as what we used to be, we’re all scarred from that somehow.
I mentioned a boy earlier, K. He got diagnosed when he was eight. He’s now nineteen, and he’s still got the cancer. His hips have gone, he has to bathe in oil three times a day because his skin is so dry, he can’t walk, he hasn’t been to school in years, he’s had more operations than 20 people combined, his life is ruined… his body is slowly giving up. His kidneys are failing, his liver is failing, but he’s still alive. His parents are rich, the doctors have done with him exactly what they’ve done with my brother, but his body just can’t fight it. There is still hope, but even if he recovers, he won’t be able to do anything with his life. He’s got no friends except for my brother, he’s missed out on ten years of education, all he knows is hospitals all over Spain. What kind of life has it been for K? For my brother? For H? For all those others?
My best friend said to me yesterday that I was probably more scarred than my brother from that. I think my whole family is scarred, but I see her point. I slept over at friend’s houses, at our neighbours, I stayed at school with a teacher for an extra hour because no one could pick me up, I felt neglected. I can’t talk about it without shaking and without crying. This has been really hard for me to write, and it’s like a knife through my heart with every memory I relive while writing this.
Cancer doesn’t only destroy the person that’s ill. It destroys the people around that person, and it scars people forever.

Remember, we’re here to raise our voices and speak for the people that can’t raise their voices. Don’t be afraid to tell your story, and I wish you the best of luck if you have been affected by cancer, or any illness like that, in any way.

All my love and hope,
Meiskie xxx

What A Shame

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4O_1MdWVo4
This is a song, by Shinedown. It’s about a dead man and people’s opinion of him, etc. It’s about hypocrites.
It’s quite sad, because it’s true that people do that… but there are people that knew those people that have bad stuff said about them even after death, and those people knew the dead people better than anyone else.
I think that there are a few people in past posts that have had that happen to them, which is why I wanted to post this song.
I don’t want to beg anyone to stop saying bad stuff about the dead people…  but I will if I have to.

Happy New Year to you all, and I hope this year is better than last year.

Take care and see you soon!
Meiskie xxx

Happy Friday 13th!

“Hi my fuzzy little batbutts”
sorry, couldn’t hold it back, just tickles when you say it

I know I’m not on here unless I really find someting but this time I’m turningmyself to all the people out there. I Jethro posted a while ago this link on VF and Ihaven’t got around to post it so I’m about to do that now;

This is an article from the online “Modern Woman Digest” site where someoneasked if she was too old for the goth clubs in because she was in her mid 30’s.Link: Goth clubs after 30 – sign of a loser?

A good and important question, but with a most awful reply by the professionalreporter Jane M Agni. I don’t know if to cry out of laughter or desperation of the level of her reply.  I’m just happy that all the comments further down the page are all against Jane, showing her that you can be alternative and be proud about it.


Stay strong, stay awesome and don’t be afraid to be who you are.Lastly, Oh My Goth this year went by quick, so much happened.


Happy friday 13th!



P.S. Considering on doing a facelift on this page and make a facebook page to spread the word and connect people.


P.P.S The Dove of Stone is currently shut down and you need my permission to go there, that as a result of a person from the municipality office tries to track me down and they’re far off. The blog will be up again when it’s safe. Until then, message me to get the permission.

Nearly there!

‘Ello chumlets and chumlettes!
It’s nearly Chrimboli(known to most people as Christmas), and it’s nearly a year since I posted New Year’s.
I have had so many ups and downs this year. No, it didn’t go exactly like I wanted, but we don’t live in a perfect world, so what can I do about it? I take life as it is and I enjoy it.
Sometimes it’s not enjoyable, and I’ve been very stressed, and I’ve cried and been angry, and wanted to strangle a person or two this past year(you know who you are), but I’ve gotten through it. I’m now finishing my exam week before the holidays, and I have a thing or two to look forward to before I go on holiday.
Not everyone does, and I would like to wish you a lovely Chrimbo and New Year.
All those sayings about life(i.e: if life throws you lemons, make lemonade) sometimes seem like a load of BS, because it’s not that easy… everything is easier said than done. Absolutely everything.
Nothing is easy, everything is harder than we expect, and nothing goes the way we want or expect it to go. My year didn’t go as I wanted it to go, and I’ve lost a lot of people that I love a lot, and I miss them. Some things have fallen to pieces around me, and I couldn’t catch them on time to stop them from shattering; other things I’ve dropped myself and broken. I’ve glued some things back together; others I’ve swept under the carpet and tried(unsuccessfully) to forget; some things I put back together but lost some pieces; some things I started putting back together but realised that it’s pointless.
I’ve lost a couple of friends, I’ve lost some family, I’ve gained a few friends and I’ll be getting a new family member soon…
None of it compares to what some of you go through. Either because you have no family, or your family situation isn’t good, or you have no friends, you have things that prevent you from socialising… or many other different things. Some of you might have to take care of your parents, or someone is getting all the attention for some reason so you’re ignored… It makes me so angry that a lot of you don’t have a nice Christmas because of that. It really does. I just want to go to your house, pick you up, take you with me and show you how Christmas can be. How it can be fun for everyone, no matter their sex, age, size, health or situation. Everyone deserves a good Chrimbo, and life is bitchy enough to not give that to some people. I hope you will get it some day, and I hope that you can let go of some of the bad things that have happened this year.

I hope that, despite everything, you have a nice Chrimboli… and I hope you’ll remember that you’re never alone… We’re here. (And yes, we’re really people!)

In my dreams and in my thoughts, I have each and every one of you with me at Christmas, making you have a good time and showing what Christmas can be.
Take care of yourselves, there’s someone out there that will fall in love with you for you, even if no one else does.
MWAH! Merry Chrimboli and Happy New Year everyone!

International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.

Hello!
Today, 25th November 2013, is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.
If you’ve read Meiskie’s Story, you’ll know that this day is very important to me because I have been in that situation.
Abuse isn’t only physical. It’s also psychological.
More women suffer from psychological abuse than physical abuse, and one is just as bad as the other. I know that it’s also reversed, that men receive abuse, Chris is the perfect example of that, but this day is dedicated to the women, because it’s much more common.
So, I was one of these women once. Actually, I was only just a teenager. However, I know of more cases of abuse, that are much worse than my own.
The rate of deaths of the female population by abuse is actually higher than that of car crashes or other accidents. That says a lot.
People get educated about this more and more every year, and women are becoming more and more powerful in society… and yet, those rates are going through the roof.
And then there are the children of the women, and sometimes men, living in these situations. Those children are scarred for life, and a lot of the time end up being abusers themselves.

I was a victim of mental and emotional abuse from one person, and a victim of mental, emotional and (sometimes) physical abuse at school. I was 12-13 then, and now, around 3-4 years later, I’m out of both of those situations, but they still affect me a lot. Imagine me, a person that hasn’t been through anything compared to some, being affected by what has happened… Now, imagine a person that can’t get out, that can’t speak up, that can’t defend herself, and is in a much worse situation than what I was in. I could cut myself off, but what if you’re married to your abuser, or your abuser is your boyfriend? You can’t get away so easily, and it’s pure Hell. Imagine how scarred some of these women are, mentally and physically. Some women end up having anxiety and/or panic attacks, being scared to go out and their lives are ruined. It’s only with a lot of help, patience and love that they can go back to being even a quater of how they were before the abuse.

Have a minute of silence for these women, and in memory of the ones that have died at the hands of their abusers…

Thank you,
Meiskie x

Anyone that wants to talk to us, about anything, can contact us at ourvoiceproject@hotmail.com
We’re here to help.

Rollercoaster

I’m back again!

Some people aren’t as fortunate as I am, they don’t receive the help I did… a perfect example of that is Amanda Todd. Not everyone gets help, professional or from friends, like I did… In the time that I had no one, I remember how lonely I was. I remember how much I wanted a friend, someone I could trust… I want to give people that. I’ve had my trust broken so many times, and I know how much that hurts. I try to be the best friend I can to all my friends, because it’s my turn to give them something for helping me. I hope that they trust me, and I know that I won’t ever purposefully break that trust.

I was recently told by a friend, Teddy, that he trusts me more than the people he’s known longer that he’s known me… I try to be as open as I can, I don’t judge anyone without having a really damn good reason too, and I listen to anyone. I wouldn’t hate, dislike or tease anyone for anything they’ve done until I’ve heard the full story, and both sides of the story. Who am I to judge? I’ve done a lot of shit in the past, I’ve said a lot of mean things to people(though it was 99% of the time to my bullies) and I haven’t always been the nicest of people. No one can judge ANYTHING without knowing the full story.

First off, I wanted to thank my friends for helping me. Teddy, Z, Lexi, SoulSister, Chris and Maria.
Then, I want to thank those people that, despite only being in my life at a distance, have become important to me. Sir Green Hair, Wolfie and Holly Tree… And my teachers.
And then the people I’ve never even met… book characters(Teddy will probably pretend to vomit when he reads this. He hates reading), Doctor Who, fairy tale characters and my own book characters.
Last of all… my family. Mama for being so overprotective that you seem paranoid, Papa for taking me to places Mama wouldn’t take me and for letting me go on the back on your bike; my brother for all the San Andreas, Kingdom Hearts and Doctor Who… and for staying strong every single day in that horrible hospital.

Now on to the title of the post… what does everything I said above got to do with the title?
Well, I’m currently a complete wreck, to put it simply. I go from being happy, to sad, to hyperactive really easily. Why? No idea, I just do. All the people above have been helping me with this, calming me down and giving me their time, to try and make me focus on one thing at a time like I used to. They’ve helped me a lot. I honestly don’t know what I would do without them.

Am I trying to rub it in your faces that I have a lot of people to help me? Of course NOT! I want to show you that no matter how insignificant a person may seem, simply because you’re not close, they can help you a lot. And I would be in the group of ‘life at a distance’ to all of you… I want to help you, even though I don’t know you, I haven’t been to school with you and I have no idea what you look like. I just want everyone to receive the same help as I did, even if I’m the only one trying to help you.
MY emotions have been up and down, I can imagine how bad it is for some of you… times are tough for a lot of people now, for whatever reason, and I want to take some of the weight off your shoulders.
I probably sound like I’m jumping from one thing to another, but I’m just trying to get my point across.

I know I can’t save everyone on the planet, but I damn well can try… I also got asked this summer how I would deal with patients passing away when I become a psychologist. Honestly? I will be upset, just as any person would be, but some people are too far gone to be helped. I just hope that I can help ease their pain for a little while and take some of the weight off their shoulders before they go. I’ll do the best I can, and no less. I won’t always succeed, but I will never give up. I will help people that have been hurt the way I have, I will help people that can’t find a reason for anything, I will help people that need help.

Life is a rollercoaster… some people hate it, others love it… Thing is, once you’ve been on it once, you’re disappointed when it’s finished. You want to get on the ride all over again, and go through that terror again. Some people give life a second, third or fourth try, because life is how it is, and we can’t give up… other people only give life one chance. I can’t do anything to change that, but I can tell you that in my moments of complete clarity and happiness, I see how beautiful life is and I know it will be better. Just got a few loopings to get through first.

ourvoiceproject@hotmail.com