Perfectly Imperfect

brettselle's picture

Daddy was a very smart man with horrible decision making skills. My melancholy and not so fortunate story starts with a man who brought me into this world seven years before he decided it was time to say goodbye to the air that travelled through his damaged lungs. My father was a foster home, lost cause, individual set between metal bars. An alcoholic. And addict. Whatever the twisted, mangled, frayed, and shattered label may have been, to me he was my father. Daddy heard the voices; he starred down the un-seeable with this quickly fading sanity. ..
Brittney... Will you and your sister please come downstairs?
What’s wrong mom? Why are you crying?..
Daddy passed away…
One day the voices were simply too much to handle. Innocence is something in this wretched life that is only present for as long as it is protected. Once virgin eyes and undamaged hearts are exposed to pain, Innocence is vanquished for the rest of your days. 7 years had passed and momma still claimed that daddy died in his sleep. But I never cried over him, and I sure as hell knew better...
Mom, please just tell me what really happened. I’m 14 now for god sake.
I never wanted you to hear this from anyone else, so you’ll hear it from me now.
Your dad committed suicide...

7 years later, I’m in middle school now. I tilt my head to the sky imagining my father’s voice, and pondering the idea of whether or not he would be proud of my academic accomplishments thus far. I walk through the halls. I lift my chin and my gaze meets his. His tall figure and menacing voice will always be burned into the darkest corner of my memories. I still see him around the school and it burns an indescribable acidic hole through my chest. To this day I wonder if he knows the pain he caused me...
Please… Just do this one thing for me.
I don’t want to…
It’s only for a little, why can’t you shut the fuck up!
His palms forced down on the top of my head leaving me no other choice than to simply do as I was told. I can still remember the horrible taste in my mouth. There is not much more I can describe without re-experiencing the events that took place on that day… The multiple people that have the audacity to call themselves men forced me to do many things. The desire to be pleasured turns many people into sick, relentless, and animalistic beings. I wish I could say that middle school was a bit more than a blurry memory of pain.

It is well known that children stop looking under the bed for monsters at night when they realize that demons don’t reside in closets or attics… they’re in our hearts and minds. It was simply normality for me to see things that aren’t truly there. After all, I am my father’s daughter right? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I was haunted by shadows and hellacious midnight scares since the age of five. I remember climbing into my mom’s bed to try and go back to sleep after a terrible nightmare, only to have woken up again. I woke up because I was hallucinating bugs crawling all over my body. Only when my mom couldn’t figure out what was wrong did I realize there was nothing there. My hallucinations progressed over the years and I was diagnosed with severe depression and psychosis…
Please pick me up from school, I can’t take this...
Britt what the hell is going on? Can’t you just push through the rest of the day?
I see him; he’s standing right behind my teacher. He’s looking right at me please just come pick me up!
Most days my demons would only be present at night, but one day at school the white, bone thin man I would see was standing before me at school. My hallucinations had formed into a man that would follow me and talk to me daily. Some days, he took over and I turned into the demon. It is very difficult for me to explain such a situation considering I can only understand what used to take place in my mind to a certain extent. Though I had to deal with this demon in my mind, he will never compare to the people of my past that made life a living hell. People like this are what I consider to be true demons.

I met her at the end of my middle school career. As depression leaked into the cracks and crevices of my mind, I began talking to this girl. Her name was Chelsea. By this point in my not so cheerful story I had been scarred and abused far too often by males; my interest grew in holding relationships with girls. At the time, this was especially true with this girl. She and I’s relationship quickly spiraled into a downward slope of more despair. Though I knew the truth of this I continued to stand by her side…
You must know, I’m not the kind of person to give up on people and I’m not giving up on you… Please don’t leave me!
Stupid girl… You really don’t get it do you? You’re DEAD to me.
Half a bottle of whiskey and 30 some cuts later, I starred at the blood leaving my body while holding my head up in order to keep from passing out. The words “Never Again” were etched into my leg, the razor blade now resting at my side. What a horrific sight this must be, can you see me now Dad?
At this point in my life happiness was very rare for me. But I met a wonderful girl that changed everything. Her name was Ila, and she was everything I could have ever asked for. It was a long distance relationship that continued for 11 months, in which I only had the chance to see her six times. Though it was hard not seeing her as much as I would have liked, things were perfect. We started talking October of 2011; I didn’t get to see her until December 11th of that year. The day after I finally got to meet this perfect girl my view on life changed… I was happy again. I decided to send my mom a text…
“It is clear I have imperfections. It is visible I have problems. I am not perfect. I am not flawless. My arms are riddled with scars. They are tainted by reminders of my past demons. But I have a million reasons to be here, and numerous reasons to keep my head up. I will not let obstacles and challenges in life keep me down. I am determined, strong, and beautiful. I am, and will be happy.”
One day I received a text from a random number; it was another girl regrettably informing me that Ila had cheated on me with this anonymous person. She didn’t even know that Ila had a girlfriend. When I found this out I was sitting at my dinner table. I dropped to the floor…
Brittney... Brittney?! Oh my god what’s wrong? What’s going on?
Why... WHY! Why did she have to do that?!
Talk to me please… What happened?!
I couldn’t even speak or explain what had just happened. The girl that made all of the pain and sorrow disappear had made my entire world come crashing down around me. I proceeded to run upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom. I starred at myself in the mirror; I became a shaking and weary being full of uncontrollable tears. I was now punching the walls and the mirror, screaming. I collapsed to the bathroom floor, 11 new cuts were added to my skin…
Why me… WHY ME?!
It’s been 7 months, I don’t even miss you!
Why can’t you get out of my head!!

First day of freshman year and as every smiling face settles into their new classes, I get nice and comfortable with my growing depression. I walk through the hall and see Chelsea, along with every other guy that has forced me into indescribable situations. My mind now has a voice of its own; it speaks its words of wisdom and terror softly into my ear.
You know, if you lift your sleeve and make it obvious you have cuts, no one is even going to care.
That’s not true… I have friends in my choir class…
Try me.
I would sit in choir amongst every other alto, wondering why no one bothered to ask me about the cuts I was nonchalantly displaying to anyone who bothered to notice. As the semester continued, I began coming to choir with a mind fogged by any substance available to me and the voice in my mind.

Christmas was fast approaching and I hadn’t even realized it. The Christmas tree was set up, lights were hung, and the earth was delicately blanketed with snow. The holidays were upon us and I had felt nothing. My heart was void of any merriment or holiday cheer, and at this point I despised the phrase “Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!” My life couldn’t possibly be defined as “merry” or “happy” in the slightest. My friend Stefan had invited me over for Christmas Eve dinner, and I didn’t see why not. During my time at his house I ended up drinking more shots of vodka than I could count. As I walked through snow and wind to head home that night, I vomited multiple times on the side of the street. But needless to say, I didn’t care. My mind was an empty vessel, no emotions to be found. My body was the opposite of vacant, filled with the poisons I decided to drown my pain with. Walking through the front door of my home was interesting…
Britt… Are you okay? You look really pale…
What? Oh… Yeah I’m totally cool. Just really tired and haven’t eaten much today.

A choir concert was quickly approaching on the calendar. It was a Monday night, one night before the choir concert took place. A person I assumed to be a close friend handed me a tan and rather inviting pill that day after school.
This little guy is called a Tan Dove… It’s dank, so only take half of it.
Well, why only half…?
Because if you take the whole thing, you’re going to roll face.
Maybe that’s what I want!
I went home and waited patiently to take ecstasy for the first time. The clock read 9:00 and I was certain everyone was fast asleep. I decided against my friend’s words of advice and took the entire pill. I proceeded to lie back, waiting ever so patiently for the “dove’ to take its own twist on reality. 30 minutes has passed and I was starting to wonder if anything was going to happen with my state of mind. I stood up to get some paper to draw, and it hit me like a train. Yet the events that followed were quickly escalating into a nightmare I desperately wanted to wake up from…
Why did I have to go and take the whole thing... WHY?!
Oh shit, its 5 am, I have to get ready for school!
The pill I decided to take wasn’t my first time taking ecstasy. What I unknowingly decided to put in my body was meth. Without a trace of reality or a clue of what I was doing, I scrambled around the house trying to find clothes that I could wear for the choir concert as well as cover my cuts and burns with. I never knew what “fucked up” felt like, until I rode the bus to school covering a bloody arm and stood up on stage to sing while I was still feeling the effects of what I had taken the night before. What am I doing with my life?

Suggested use: Take one 30 minutes before bed. One wasn’t enough for me, and 30 more minutes on this earth was far too long. I wanted out.
Brittney how many did you take? It says on the bottle JUST TAKE ONE!
Chill out mom… I only took four. Can I go to bed now?
Ugh… Fine. Goodnight. I love you.
I headed up to my room and closed my door gently behind me. I lied down to see if I would ever wake up again. One thing my mom was unaware of was I didn’t take 4 sleeping pills. I took around 30. I ignored the label, ignored any thought of “Hey, maybe this isn’t such a good idea” Starring at those pills in my hand looked more like candy. They may not have tasted like it, but the thought of never waking up to see the sun rise was better than any sugar rush. To my surprise I never even slept that night… What a disappointment.

The downward spiral of my life and sanity continued throughout the course of my first year of high school. Depression really is a drag. It was for you, wasn’t it dad?
Brittney, I’m making an appointment for you to go to the doctor.
Please mom, don’t! I know what happiness feels like; I’ll be okay without the medication!
Listen, sometimes people need extra help; it’s okay to be depressed. But you need this medication.
I don’t want it…
I’m making the appointment Britt, you need to stop being like your father.

Bad decisions lead to unchangeable mistakes that change the rest of your life. When it came to my father, his addiction and mental instability lead to a decision to end his life. Him and I alike, the many decisions I made throughout the years lead to countless scars and unbearable pain. But with pain, comes knowledge. Though this is true, I had a few more stops to make with learning from my mistakes along my own road in life…
Why are you holding that bat, huh? What do you think you’re going to do with THAT?
I’m just making sure you don’t hit your mother alright?!
What kind of person do you think I am? I would never hurt her!
During a screaming battle between my step father, my mother, and I, I wanted out of the room. My anger was escalating into something I knew I couldn’t control and I needed to escape from this confrontation. As I reached for the door, my step dad stepped in front of me. Feeling confined and overwhelmed with rage, I turned to the wall and started punching as hard as I could. Blood was now dripping from my swollen and numb hands. My step dad continued yelling at me, but my vision was turning grey. I stumbled over to the bed. Blackout.
Brittney? Oh my god BRITTNEY can you hear me? Someone call 911!
I wish I had more details of this event, but the next thing I can recall is being in a hospital bed. I had no right to any of my clothes or belongings because the nurses thought I would find a way to hurt myself. The feeling of rock bottom really sets in once you’re in a room neighbored by all the other lunatics that couldn’t simply hold themselves together any longer.

Present day arrives and I’ve learned quite a bit. Through the on again-off again fits of insanity, a worsening case of depression, and countless mistakes along the way. I feel a bit as if I have made it through. So far, at least. But now the remnants of my innocence and somewhat pure soul consist of broken memories and fits of anger towards people in life that have no clue what pain is; therefore they inflict it upon others. As if anyone hadn’t experienced pain enough. People spit venomous words at each other with serpent tongues. As if their vocabulary wasn’t poison enough, statements seep into the minds of the weak until the tired and weary put themselves through the pain as well. As if razor sharp blades hadn’t sliced through gentle skin enough, the pain continues long after venomous words are taken far too much to heart. Beautiful eyes lose their shine and resilient hearts lose their strength because someone along the line decided it was time to take their precious smile away. With little to nothing left to lose, the weak yet worthy lose the ability to find a reason to stay afloat. And as if anyone hadn’t experienced pain enough, darkness consumes and swallows you whole...
There’s nothing left, please, please just fucking save me!
I don’t want this sadness, I don’t want this pain!
You have a beautiful soul and so much love to give. Ones who deem themselves righteous in this world had you believe you’re nothing more than a whisper in the air. But you’re more, you’re so much more!
You’re the sun that brightens my day the stars that light up my night sky.
Oh my god no!! Please don’t pull the trigger- NO!!


Ann's picture

Hi Brettselle

After reading your entry, I'm sorry that there have been people in your life that haven't treated you the way you should have been treated. That was wrong and unfair. You deserve so much better. I just want you to know that we're here for you whether you need someone to talk to or need some space or just want to talk about stuff that doesn't matter for the sake of talking. I hope you update, and let us know how you're doing. One of the worst things about depression is that it convinces you to isolate and distance yourself. I'm glad you joined Oasis.

MacAvity's picture

Ditto what Ann said.

Please stay. Please keep writing.