are you scared yet?

i'm nadine
i died a long time ago.
these are my stories from my "life," if you can call it that.
ask for my regular blog.

really excited cause i have a new book idea! hopefully i can make it a decent sized book but i have a feeling it’s more on the short story side.


college essay but w/e

            My parents got divorced when I was four years old. This was a huge part of my growth and development because of the year-long custody battle where I was in and out of foster care. I believe this caused me to be more rational and mature from an early age and it could be the cause of some of my stress as a teenager, however, I believe most of my inconveniences stemmed from my mother’s health issues that have been passed down to me genetically.

The first problems I noticed were very minor. My teeth grew in extremely slowly, I had pain in my joints, and my memory was poor. Then, as I grew older, I noticed I suffered from depression. As this grew, I developed some pretty severe anxiety issues. These problems, and some of the medications I was on for them, affected my cognitive brain functions.

My junior year of high school is when these problems peaked. My memory was at an all-time low. I was unable to read and understand for a few weeks, and I had horrible problems trying to think, speak, and write. When I had the strength to show up for school, I tended to visit the school psychologist, Mrs. Sumner’s, office. I do not remember many days without tears.

Mrs. Sumner and Mrs. Magnuson, the assistant principal, became an important part of my recovery. They thought that my depression had gone too far and that I needed to seek stronger treatment than I was already in. They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital so I could get better and I accepted. That week was probably the most important week of my life. They changed the medications I was on and they taught new skills to work on to improve myself. This week was a huge struggle, but making it through was the best thing I could have done for myself.

My senior year to me is about continuing to improve myself. This summer I focused on bettering myself and my brain. I needed to get myself back in order and now I have.

People tell me my best qualities are that I always want to change for the better, I am ambitious, I am honest, I am perceptive, I have a great head on my shoulders, I am very mature, I can rationalize better than most people my age, I am keen, and I am very strong. I take pride in these qualities. I am proud of myself and how I think and learn.

I take the bad with the good and I try to find the beauty in everything. I think I have grown so much more as a person through my rough childhood and my junior year of high school than I would have without these struggles. In the future, I hope my journey can prove helpful to myself and others as I become the best psychologist I can be. 


I was in seventh grade when my mother passed. I was done getting ready for school and I went to say goodbye to leave for the bus when I found her. She was pale. The cat was meowing profusely while nudging her arm. She knew something was wrong.

The doctor’s say it was a heart attack. I could not believe them. She was too young and healthy. She was just turning 32. I had been planning a surprise party. I was going to have one of those annoying characters sit in our front lawn telling everyone how old she was. All week I had been picturing her laughing at her party. We probably would have had a cake fight. It would have been the best birthday party ever.

The wake was on a Friday. Open casket. We had dressed her in her favorite gown and I applied her makeup. It reminded me of when I was young and we’d play dress up and she’d let me do her eye shadow and lipstick. She looked so warm and rosy after I was finished. This time, she just looked dull and unhappy. The room had a weird stench of lilies and roses. My dad hated it because of his allergy to pollen. He kept avoiding going to the front of the room and I wondered if it was because of the flowers or because of the casket.

I was getting very annoyed by the number of “I’m sorry about your loss” and “if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know” statements I had been getting. I was never a fan of big gatherings, never mind crying gatherings where my friends and family have to meet one another. The number of hugs I was getting made me sick.

At the funeral, once I put the rose on her casket and they lowered it into the ground, I swear the world turned black. When I went to sleep that night, I had a dream of the upcoming week. We were at her birthday party. Everyone was dancing and laughing and having a great time. I didn’t even know we were still having a party. I walked into the room and saw everyone laughing and eating tiny sandwiches and drinking cocktails. I pushed through them and there was my mother, lying in her casket. Her eyes were open and she was smiling wide. It was creepy. I asked what she was doing, and as she talked she was missing the faint scent of vanilla hair conditioner and cinnamon schnapps on her breath. Everyone walked to the casket to greet her and asked her how she was doing. I was going to scream if it did not end soon.

When I woke up, I walked into the living room. My dad was there. He was sitting in the corner near the flowers from the wake in the tattered blue chair my mother always chose to sit in. He was not moving. The cat was meowing again. She started nudging his arm on the chair and the whiskey glass shattered onto the hardwood floor as I ran out of the house.  


don’t you ever stop to smell the flowers?
don’t you ever notice sometimes they smell like me?


i feel like i have fallen into oblivion

prescriptiondreams:

and i couldn’t matter any less to everyone in this world. its like i’ve been replaced but i can’t be mad at anyone for it because i’m just not as good as them. i’m pretty sure everyone just wants me out of their lives so that it makes things easier and there’s no more nuisance. this is going to be just like last summer. fighting with all my friends, no plans ever, bored, alone, and depressed. it would make things easier if there was even an ounce of hope left in me. i feel like moving and starting over would make me incredibly happy. i wouldn’t be upset leaving anyone behind since i feel that i don’t matter to anyone. i can’t wait until i’m old enough for my own house. then i could move whenever the hell i felt like it and would have no problem packing up and getting away from the shallow, depressing lives around me. and i’m the worst of them. i complain about people who complain. it’s as if i’m jealous or something. “my life sucks” “shut up, my life is so much worse off than yours, how about you go live in a place that is far worse off than little old ct and you learn what real pain and suffering is.” people could say the same thing to me… its not that my life isn’t shit, but it could be incredibly worse. and i need to stop feeling like this because one day its just going to end and everyone around me who actually did care and never showed it will wonder what the hell happened to make me finally snap.


prescriptiondreams:

                                                        sheltered.
emptiness finds you.
                                                        fragile.
you’re cold.
                                                        broken.
numbness creeps its way in.
                                                        alone.
settles in your bones.
                                                        dried out.
waits until it has you then it makes you.
                                                        shattered.
it turns you.
                                                        withered.
nothing will end it.
                                                        tragic.
you can’t do a thing now.
                                                        crushed.
daylight goes on burning.
                                                        empty.
you’re drowning in the fear.
                                                        washed up.
the last hope of your future,
                                                        gone.


prescriptiondreams:

dark as the night
dark as the day
the sun comes around
and rips you away
the coldness drags in
as the night turns to dusk
but the brightness that comes
is as gone as your musk.

#i'll always hate that ending omg

prescriptiondreams:

to have a big book
with a hollowed out center 
with nothing inside 


prescriptiondreams:

there are many ways to die. heart attack, stroke, murder, suicide, saving the life of someone else….

we obviously all see the wonder in dying for someone else. it’s a beautiful thing. but suicide is beautiful too. for one moment, you’re fearless. sure, it may be selfish. it may not be the answer. it many be a mistake. it may ruin a lot of things for other people. but it’s beautiful to just do one thing in your whole miserable life for yourself. to completely give yourself to the earth and the wind. you let all thoughts leave your head and you just know for a moment that this is the only thing left to do. those last thoughts as it all goes down may change your position on the matter, but it’s too late. because you’ve decided to drop all fear and drop all reason. you’ve decided to run free and live your life elsewhere, free of the bullshit that this earth gives us. 


prescriptiondreams:

crashing and burning, slowly and surely. 
falling and dying, laughing and yearning.
just as it comes, everything leaves.
dark swallows you whole, inhabiting your sleep.
at first it’s just numb, then the world turns to dust.
the broken, the damned, the loved, and the trust’d.
when everything’s wrong, nothing is right.
the lights come flashing to an abrupt end.
then it’s over.
nothing left.
hopefully.  



/avant
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