I have an issue...

I'm addicted to crack. Heh...kidding. I'm addicted to mango lollipops covered in chilly powder. I can't keep my digets off of them. I've eaten 5 in 2 days. I kind of get bored after the chilly powder wears off.

I am having an issue with weight. 113 lbs. No. I can see my bones. I'm shooting for 127. Hell, at this point 150 would be fabulous.

I never thought in my life that I would actually want to gain weight. I just thought I'd be fat for the rest of my life.

Food holds no interest for me any more because I'm to tired to make it. Hence, I don't eat.

I'll be the fucking thinnest chef alive.

Now it's .17 cents in my bank account...

Life sucks when you're having fun.

I can't believe I only have 17 cents to my name BUT my Ma sent me fabulous things for school! I think she wants me to be an artist more than a chef. I kind of agree with her but art doesn't pay. She sent me paint brushes, paint, pastels, charcoal and these amazing markers that change colors. She also sent me a backpack a water bottle with skulls on it and a sketch pad.

I was born to be an artist...you don't have to be smart to paint. You don't have to be smart to create...which actually makes me brilliant because I can create what most people can't.

I can't spell or do math, in the modern world that makes me stupid.

I keep hearing him..."You stupid bitch, you can't draw to save you life."

In my head I thought "I can draw your chalk line, die motherfucker...die, or please just kill me."

I wished for him to die because he was killing me and he still is.

His birthday is the 28th, why do I feel that he's going to call me on HIS birthday.

This never goes away. Domestic Violence never goes away. It distracts me. Always watch your back, ALWAYS. PTSD.

I've been through the goddamn war now I want to learn.

I guess I just need to buck it up...again.

I'm down to $24.00 in my checking account

Eh...what ever. I try not to think about it. We can't make rent but hopefully financial aid will come through. I will live in my car to be a chef. Thank God I have a SUV, me and the girls would be really cozie.

I'll sell my Mac if I have to. Typing that hurt but knowledge is priceless.

I've learned that I'm smart. In a room with 40 stundent's the history professer asked if we knew women rights. He started that with "Women are Ignorant. That don't know their rights. " I knew the rights but not the years the laws were past. Then he asked the class about African American rights. No on raised their had. I did. He said "Give the Negro's a chance." By the way...he's African American. He dismissed me. I am the only white person in that class. I'm just waiting for him to call me a cracker.

He starting passing out the test. I was in the back row on the end seat. When he walked up he said "Oh, sister, you had some thing to say...what laws do you think the Negros have?"

"The right to own property and women as well." I said

"Well, well, well...I think there IS a smart woman...what year was that passed?"

"After the Civil War but I don't know the year."

"Well look it up."

I am going to write a letter to the school. He's horrifying. If he says "Nigger" one more time in class I'm going to snap.

I'm dropping the class...he disturbs me.

No wonder he was divorced three times...yes, he talks about that in class.

Classy.

No wonder most people don't go to college...

It's fucking expensive. My fees were waved for all my classes, thank you California. Unfortunately, books are a different matter. The book for my food sanitation class is $115.94. One of the pages is worth $64.00. People actually steal theses books. That's why the chef said to write your name on the one page because it is the test page for the sanitation license.

I have home work but I don't have any books. My Mom said she would help me buy them. I don't want to take the money but it looks like I might have to.

My unemployment is on hold and my financial aid for school hasn't come through yet. I have $284.00 in the bank and the power bill is due. My brother sent me money to make rent.

My first day of school was a fucking nightmare. I almost didn't go. The panic attack was so extreme that I could barely walk, hell I could barely get dressed. I didn't know if I would make it. Where is Xanax when you need it?

I threw up on the bus...MTA that is. I threw up 5 times at school. In stairwells, behind buildings and then I finally found the bathrooms. That's how bad I have panic attacks.

When I finally got home at 8:00 I was fucking dead to the world, but I made it.

I am a college student and I will beg, borrow and steal (or pawn) to make it work.

I'm actually out in the real world now. People are nice there. I'm not use to that.

By the way...Vance called on Saturday. He didn't leave a message. How does he always know when I'm happy? He always wanted to take my sunshine away. Fucking prick. Hopefully, some day the shaking will stop. One sight of his name on the caller ID makes my whole body start to tremble. He almost fucking killed me and he knows where I live. He's not done with me yet.

I think I'm different now. There will be no hesitation to call 911. Domestic violence is so fucked up. It makes women look stupid and I'm not stupid but he always told me I was.

I'm tired of living in the past but I'm sure it will still haunt me at times.

I'm happy now. I do want to be a chef but the art class is so fabulous! My dream, when I found my father's oil set was to be an artist. Eh...I guess art and cooking go hand in hand.

I think the point of this blog is I'm scared and happy all at the same time.

I think I like it.