These critics think they've got me all figured out

First order of business: I don’t care what anybody says, the green tea frappucino from Starbucks is totally delicious.

Moving on!

I’m Holly and this is my first blog post. I am starting this as an online journal of sorts, chock full of the thoughts, musings, and events that happen in my day to day life. I call myself a writer sometimes. Other times I call myself a poser, because of the fact that I haven’t touched one of my novels in at least a week. I’m hoping this blog will help me seek solace in writers block, and help take some of the emotional burden I’ve put on my other social networks off of them,

I like run on sentences. Just a note there.

I’m an open book. You will see things on this blog that may offend you,  and if so, you don’t have to read it. I’ve never really been one to hold back, especially in my writing. I’ve almost dropped three f-bombs since I started writing this post seven minutes ago.

Fuck.

God, that felt good.

Here’s some things about me that may come up in future posts, that way I don’t have to elaborate.

Cody = Six feet of gorgeous mancake, all mine. Raised in Tennessee, rides motorcycles, works in a country-wide warehouse store that is considered a “club” of sorts (not naming names). and the love of my life. I moved in with him a couple months ago after my mom and stepdad kicked me out. Which brings me to…

The Wicked Bitch of the West and Fuckface McDouche – That would be my dear old mom and stepfather. They got married when I was four. My stepdad is the main antagonist of my story, in writer speak. The moment he bum-rushed my life, he was nothing but controlling, condescending, and loud as hell.  My mom is a total wuss–she can’t even stand up to her lunatic of a husband. They recently kicked me out, as mentioned above, due to me not being able to get over the death of…

My Dad – He killed himself almost a year ago. He was bipolar, gay, and had drug problems his whole life. Meth was his drug of choice. If I’m being completely honest, I think that I really was the only thing he loved more than himself. Dad and I were both writers, both superhero fanatics, and most of the time more like buddies than father-daughter.  He lived right near me until I was ten, then he moved to Chicago after his best friend killed himself. I’m guessing that’s where h decided to start acting like a college kid again. Less than two years ago, my grandmother–who had unknowingly been enabling him for years–found out that he had been using meth and had become a paranoid schizophrenic. She moved him to Florida so he could be closer to her, and sent him to rehab. Dad claimed he was clean after the detoxification  and left rehab before completing the recommended programs. When I found out he was lying to me about using again, we got in this huge fight and I gave him an ultimatum: me or the drugs. We went without speaking for a month or two, and then I found out that he took a ton of Xanax and jumped off the room of his building. A lot for a recent high school graduate to handle, right? That’s where my blog will probably get the most dark. There is still a lot of unresolved feeling regarding my dad.

I’m a cashier at a grocery store. Just thought that was worth mentioning, is all.

I used to have a lot of friends, but lately most of them have turned against me or we’ve drifted apart. I’m super lucky to have the one that I do right now. I’d do anything for them.

So, this is the intro post.  If you’d like to, keep up with me, if not, thank you anyway for stopping by!

Xo, Holly