Orange-Skewed Cold Remembrance of a Saint
(Mentions of childhood abuse, drugs, self harm, eating disorder, broken families, etc, but as always this is about finding the will to keep fighting, and never wallowing in it. After all, there is no point to my life if I don't keep fighting.
Please take care of yourselves everyone!)
[okay all these warnings at the start kind of sound funny sometimes, but I don't know a better way to word things!]
Halloween.
No, this needs to be more fitting...
---------------------------------------Halloween--------------------------------------
That's better.
What am I to think? when Fall comes around.
What am I to think?
Of a time I can't describe as special.
Halloween approaches soon.
I think it was my favorite holiday as a kid.
I'd get excited to dress up and eat candy, just like any other kid. Yes, we were poor, yes tensions were horribly thick between everyone. Yes, my stepdad and mom were in an intimate relationship with every drug possible. Yes...I was in a stuffy charter school that was not fit for me whatsoever.
I always complained about having to wear a uniform to school. It made sense though. It was no private school, but it was a school, free entry, but it absolutely wanted to be seen as something privileged and high class.
Realistically, it was the only school in the area I think. Actually, I wonder why that school was chosen. I do not know as of right now.
There was a shock to my system much earlier today. I was reminded that pumpkin patches exist, even in the south.
I was only there until the end of 3rd grade, then everything changed. I was so far away after that point. I don't remember how I felt back then, having to meet new people again. When I moved again, I do remember how it felt meeting new people in 8th grade.
...and then promptly refusing to go to school and quitting then and there to do it all online.
I was already, hm? sad at that point? I was tired, and I was already tired from the responsibility I bore at such a young age regarding my sick grandmother, my grades, and how I took care of myself in a big empty house. I was tired from the lack of support from anything besides what was essentially my only friend then. The people online were not my friends. All I can remember from perhaps, the 5 days total I went for 8th grade was....English class, Art Class, my jacket, the vague layout, some conversations with my dad.
I was to walk to the school every day, about a mile. I believe in my defiant attitude as a kid, I spoke of that, and of refusing a bike in lieu of some strange feeling I had. I think I already knew I wanted to be outside then, or at least living away from my dad.
The town I had moved too was one that finally emanated permanence, and was right on the seaside. Before that, nothing was permanent. Even though nothing is permanent still, as a child, I already lost the concept of permanence and accepted it. It may not be so bold to claim that those kids who are always always moving around were the ones who had to grow up and adapt the fastest. However, at the same time, I don't fault those who did not.
The school itself was something I already rejected upon seeing it. I was...upset again. Yes, the town before was a thousand times more vicious, more hateful, and right in the middle of every type of trafficking, but in that strange, bizarre complex of three schools, it felt like home.
How peculiar, my old town's three main schools were lined up and enclosed by a massive forest and some trailer homes and other mobile homes.
It was only about a mile away, but..okay it hurts a lot to think about actually, and yet, I must think about it.
Give me one moment but...there is a visual novel called SeaBed. I brought it up a few times, but it's one I never finished due to some drastic event I have comically labeled as "the incident" Notwithstanding, there are a few scenes near the very beginning of the game of two of the protagonists, (who later become girlfriends) sitting outside their countryside school together. It was described as a school that was a bit off the beaten path, but the image of one of the girls reading a book while the more energetic one teases her reminded me of something.
When I made it through the opening hours of that novel about 3 years ago, it strongly....resembled more than a few times of my youth walking around that sprawling megastructure of hidden schools; it was its own complex.
The main difference was that I was actually alone, talking with myself and projecting a different image of me to talk to instead. I never really found that lonely, and I still don't, as it really is a good way to pass the time. I only went to the middle school there but one day, when school was at, and all the kids who wanted to hang out would take the overgrown forest path to the big rec center where everyone hung out, I chose a different path.
Typically, I did tread the same one they day. One day was different.
For some reason, I decided to sit and wait around the high school. (I was in 7th grade at the time) I believe this was because the guy I was dating at the time's dad was around, and so he was. I believe I wanted to surprise him, or perhaps I was misremembering. What as all the more likely was that I just wanted to feel like I was close to something that someone knew.
I found a spot which cast an angular shadow, much like the opening to the visual novel SeaBed.
This only happened once, but I sat there, maybe playing with my thumbs, and looked towards the football field. I felt like I wanted someone to notice me in a way too, on how strange it was for a downtrodden girl to be sitting in a shadow when schools was out.
Mind you, I say "girl" again, but the way I presented at that young age was more androgynous. People still knew me as Victoria however. I only wore an all black hoodie pullover, mainly to disguise the fact that I really only had one pair of clothes, and that I was at that insecure age + phase of being queer.
I wore a cheap, flaky rainbow necklace which I took in the shower with me always. It was probably due to laziness more so as opposed to wanting to keep a defiant symbol close to me though.
It's been touched upon here, but this town was not fit for queer people, and I was bullied, but still became friends with them. An old friend of mine recently spoke on how I was probably the youngest person he knew to come out, to lead like that, to fight like that. I praise all of them for their bravery, and me choosing to fight that path so young was a gamble on my part.
I'd say it was something like Blackjack, my favorite card game. It appeared like I was bluffing heavily to the dealer, but the truth is, it isn't poker, the dealer's hand is absolute. Bluffing in Blackjack is of a distinctly different flavor than poker.
You aren't focusing on tripping others up, but bluffing and betting on your own resolve. (and perhaps a little card counting hehe) I know my way to describe such a simple card game is a bit fantastical, but uhm..it's fun!
Moving on, It was pleasant moments like that, where I would hide and hope to be found by anyone, while also begging not to be found, in which I made myself known.
When I moved again, and was at another new school again, alone again, it makes sense why I would, without much support, give up in a way.
(Hamster editing note! This all will cycle back to Halloween at some point! I purromise! hamster seal of approval! sqeuak!)
The miracle of it all was that I did have a best friend at the time. The real miracle however? He too quit physical school. Somehow, we both had a ticket to spend time with one another, and only one another, hopefully bolstering our test scores and trying to understand the world around us.
I will now describe the portion of memories from my incredibly short 8th grade life.
I didn't really want to walk so far to school every day, as it would have been over a mile each time. I think I wished for my dad to take me, but I can't remember if the time didn't line up or I pushed it away or something else.
I remember how excited I was when I would get my new class roster. It became a blessing to look forward to. When I would get that white sheet of paper with all the room locations, I was filled with joy.
Taking a quick stroll back to the three school wooded forest complex er...that's a bit much on the descriptors...
uhm anyways! That school was a middle school, so 6th, 7th, and 8th. The layout was the fun part.
Every main classroom was in a big hallway, with the 6th graders at the back, 8th in the middle, and 7th at the end. The real fun was when I'd get a new course roster and I had to traverse the campus to get to the other building. On the first floor was the cafeteria, the second floor was another hallway of classes, where most electives were held.
So, in reality, the general layout of the campus was a giant number 11, and a few other adjunct buildings. Then, right next to it, only parsed by a long road for buses, was the high school, then an auditorium and a football field next to that, then the elementary school.
Each school fought against their closeness like warriors. Each school had a completely different feeling to it. Also, and I am keeping details vague, but one of the schools was the stage for a huge multi million drug trafficking ring which occurred sometime in the 2000s. That last part still is crazy to me, but that's what a school on the border of rural is like I guess?
Anyways, a roster was so much fun. I remember I had a computer basics class where we were taught things like the proper way to type, how to create passwords, etc. That elective felt truly "high class" at the time, and it was, kind of.
Jumping forward, it may have been just due to my perception of another move, but the new school in a new, far away town felt more like...a fortress.
I described the previous schools as a complex, but it was more fluffy, like the forest around it. This school was...big, bulky, and enclosed. Yes, my mind at the time spills outward when it comes to the descriptors, but even still, on the times I pass by the school, it's huge...
My roster was something basic like english, art, and...the rest. I don't think I made it to the other classrooms as I was too busy crying and not knowing where to go. My dad never was there to help much still. I know I was crying even if I didn't do it much at all then, I just created an idea outside of myself to talk to, and tried to push on.
It was still tough for me though, without the support, the ideas outside of me could only lift me up so much.
In English class, I did swiftly "befriend" someone, but I do not wish to speak on that story right now. I remember my mind perked up when I saw I had art class on my roster. I was already shy, sad, scared, and outwardly hopeless, (but full of hope on the inside) but when I saw that, I felt this inward happiness.
As to why...well, art class was never my favorite subject, but it was the only class at my old school where, at the time, I felt like I made true friends. I had a friend group in middle school, we spent lunch in the library or the art room. There were some scattered friends who taught me about certain music artists, ones which I love still to this day. People who have been lost to time. It was also art class where I met who would become my best friend at the time, the one who also dropped out of physical school.
Also in my 7th grade art class, I didn't just meet my old best friend, but several of his friends too, who became my friends too. Of them all, besides my old best friend, there was a girl with long black hair who I felt an attachment towards due to feeling seen. (also I was growing my hair out and I thought back then hers kind of resembled what I always wanted mine to look like) Part of the part of feeling seen was because we clearly both went through some bad abuse but I didn't understand what went through my life at the time. She had an eating disorder like me and also self harmed. (which I did back then) I would come to notice she only wore a hoodie as well, which covered her scars and my hoodie would cover my own as well.
We texted a few times over the years about our favorite plants and whatnot, but never really became good friends. The point was, art class was where I felt like I'd finally make friends, people who "saw" me in a way. I could be more open about my gender, we would giggle about things, and it felt great.
I will say, at the time I did not know of the mental illnesses I had, so when I met that girl who had the same issues as me, I didn't realize how bad they were when she joked about them. The main difference between me and her though was that she brought her bloody razor blade to school and called it "ol reliable," my goodness. I personally never brought anything like that and kept them at my own home, but it's something I didn't forget because I had found someone else who self harmed. I did do and have stupid things like an "ol reliable" but my self harm manifested in many different ways besides cutting myself...all ways which were as childish and sad as carrying around a testament to wanting to kill oneself, which I would do at times in a different way.
There was no echo chamber or anything back then, I just felt seen in a way I didn't understand yet. She spoke of being bulimic and I didn't know I had an eating disorder at the time, but I knew I wasn't bulimic. I was taught that all mental illnesses weren't real, but I knew they were, I just didn't know I had them, which is why I didn't know the reason her words reached me.
It was a very precious thing for me. I would later learn what happened to her in life and thankfully she seems to be doing much better now just like I am. She ended up at one point becoming good friends with a different old friend of mine, but I shan't go on forever. But it wasn't just that friend, but my old best friend then who also turned out to be trans in that hellhole. The other members of the group were either bi or lesbian, so, yes, it was the middle - high school queer art class table...haha. I'm glad it still existed even in a place like that.
We did have fun doing the actual art stuff too..but I was always more of a photographer and way more into digital imaging. I was sure that back then, whenever I would go to 8th grade, I would have had fun with all of them again, even if most of them were a year older and thusly going into high school. My home life was nothing short of terrible at the time, it was a different kind from the constant abuse as a kid, and of a more quiet, subtle, and terrifying kind. But a girl like me never falters...I made it, I survived! (and will keep fighting!)
When it was time to move though...even though I knew it was coming, I didn't want to accept any of it. It kept moving without me, they didn't think much of the kid involved, or perchance they overlooked it considering their grief. I do not blame them. That assurance that I would keep the friends I built up after such horror was...depressing? The majority of my friends were the ones you would mainly see at school only, so it felt like a rabid severing of tendons, or to be more apt, a rusty pair of hair stylist scissors as a surgery tool.
I still held happiness, always, but it was right after the move where I couldn't contain the idea of emotions that I had. I would think back to that class and how..
It kind of felt like home.
I'm still searching for what that word means to me, but I'll find it someday, er, I have before actually, I just end up getting so happy that sometimes I get scared I'll be hurt still in some way. Nevertheless, as it stands, I am still searching for the meaning, through cosmic filament, and boundless space. Or, there is a clash between such positive and negative emotions I feel the need to go and work hard towards...some sort of goal or something.
So, when I saw that the new school put me in an art class, I could hardly contain myself. To the outside world I was quiet, unmoving, and a bit of a strange girl, and it was still middle school, so that harshness from others remained strong. It is, and still is, a stark contrast to the me I am now, to the me I became back in 2020, when I finally got a fighting spirit for myself, and not just others.
When the first days rolled around, I didn't know what the art class would be like, but I went in with a very joyous stride. (in my head) I was...excited? I was...lonely. I was....scared? I was....hopeful. I remembered telling myself that it would be the only way I'd actually go to school...I thought that maybe I could make some new friends, explore a new town together, go to parks, eat food together. There were still so many things I never got to do with...anyone. My friends were mainly school friends as I said prior. I had some of those youthful moments, but they didn't last forever and they didn't keep me out of my house forever either.
I imagined so many scenarios in my head of how I could try to introduce myself, get over the hurdle of gender, go somewhere..do something, have a sleepover, anything. I wanted something..I dreamed of anything at all, any friends, anyone, any house, anything, anything that I thought of, I dreamed of how to cook for someone if they wanted it, how to do everything they wanted, how to devote myself to a friend, how to live with someone, how to roll around in the dirt with someone, how to go swimming, how to grow up together, how to have birthdays together, how to be happy together, how to spend time with one another, how to stay up too late before school started, how to talk about high school, how to talk about and study for exams, how to find the best hideout spots on campus, how to do each others makeup, how to relax after a long day, how to
...
...
Yes, I dreamed of basic activities I never had. I was able to, bit by bit, piece by piece, realize those dreams over the years, some of it was fragmented around 2018, but it was only with 1 person really. I had a few sleepovers but almost never and the circumstances ended up with some bad aftertastes. It was finally, after so much, I would fulfill a smattering of the base dreams I had around 2023 and last year.
If I split myself further, I'd see just how many there were.
Oh...but it is also evident that I was...a bit overambitious, or not quite. I would balance everything with realistic optimism, even at that age. I knew that I wouldn't find true friendship in a class like that. I also knew that deep within me, not known to my conscious yet, that at the same time I was being ripped apart online by people who made me do awful things and did all that grooming, that maybe if I made more in person friends I could finally leave them. I didn't know how hurt and how much I was being destroyed by them, how twisted it was. I thought I could never be alone so I always kept people around. The truth is, alone is just a word. It can be wholly determined by the wielder.
I spent lots of time in isolation, but I was never alone. I just didn't realize that part yet.
When I stepped into the art classroom...
...
I knew, or was already predisposed to...reject it.
When I saw that, or at least the cliques? or? ...whatever it was....
I kind of completely gave up on the idea of going to physical school. I felt broken, defeated, hurt, and already confused by the move, people online, my dad's attitude, everything that happened with my grandma, being forced to see my mom after begging not to, being forced to move again...I don't usually give up, I concede instead, but in that moment, I gave up.
No one was there to really spur me on or cheer me up besides my one friend in person. I didn't know how to express the rest of my problems to other people.
That was when I locked myself away, for years, and engorged myself in chains.
No one can save the witch. (okay what is up with me using that line I made up, I used it last blog...I think it's the Umineko and Fata Morgana getting to me...but I guess it's how I felt? My grandma practiced some awful withcraft, death spells, incantations, all of it. I may not fully believe in that stuff at times, but she focused on hate much of the time. I more so would much rather believe in the good magic, if there was a time to believe. [these are metaphors, but they both did practice various evil rituals and witchcraft] Still, in a way, I may have felt like a witch somewhat...there were always jokes of my grandma flying around on a broomstick like the schema of a witch, but doing it with her tubby orange cat...Tubby (or boots). That's the cat which became my cat. I find it funny that Umineko has lots of themes I find relevant to what I already believe in...it's comforting in that way.
But er sorry it's detour time...again. The magic my grandma practiced was that of a very dark kind, my mom did as well, and it was of a very nasty and loveless form. Of course, I know I am not to judge either of them because my grandma was raised in a way that forced her to be like that and 2, my mom was also raised like that, only except she was very young, just a kid. The tangible "magic" my grandma cast (oh and this is all the grandma on my dad's side) was a sad one which took my sister away from me for my whole life essentially. My grandma didn't have the foresight at the time to realize how bad it was when she hired a notoriously evil lawyer who did scummy practices to take away my mom's custody.
I think what I mean to get at is, without love, It's...well...not very nice? This ties into Halloween, but I am not at that point yet. My point is, I inherited my grandma's lovely cat and he became my own best friend, forever. He was so orange, so fluffy, so lovely.
When I get distant and sad sometimes, I remember his purrs and envision my grandma soaring on a broomstick with Tubby riding with her, she apologized for everything when she was dying, and in the end she became a "good witch," one could say. (she even loved the imagery, she had lots of it when Halloween came) Halloween also is a catalyst for me to think about my grandma because, while my birthday is October 4th, hers is October 8th, also in...Halloween month. The time of year one is born can change certain parts of their life drastically. For example, being born in October means that there is that landmark reminder for the person every time of year, every October. As humans, when something is important, we link it to much stronger long term memories. Due to the close relation of certain events, like Halloween, the pull may be stronger.
Someone born in June instead, may have a stronger fondness for the Summer air. Moving onto that random line in my head "no one can save the witch," I believe it means something like this: "No one can save the witch, because the witch must save itself." I use the word "witch" loosely here, mainly just because of my grandma practicing it very strongly and with all the Umineko I've been playing lately. (just finished episode 4.) The "witch" refers to someone afflicted with great sadness, or something? Like myself, It's kind of silly, and may sound self serving to a degree, but it's quite healing? It's why I fight to save myself. It shouldn't be viewed as a solemn journey altogether, but one where people work with one another for mutual aid.)
Something special did happen after I dropped out. Yes, my friend was almost always over. One memory I have not mentioned on this blog was of one time we went trick or treating together.
Since school started in August, it only took two months before Halloween. My friend and I were looking for ways to pass the time together, and we ended up getting excited about Halloween. I don't remember if, or what we dressed up as, but my dad took us to a neighborhood not too far from my old apartment and we went...wild? To a restrained kid as I was then, anything was wild. I do remember heavy bags of candy, that "cold," "chilly," "spooky!" atmosphere I loved.
We had fun. The neighborhood was chosen because of my dad's work friend who suggested their spot as fantastic for handing out candy.
And it was! We may not have had too many friends besides one another, we didn't go to physical school, but at least we had a great time. We counted the candy, slung over my dad's car, and it was a great experience.
I haven't explained what Halloween means to me just yet, but I'll do this near the end.
I close my eyes and remember that each year, if only faintly. He left this state a long time ago now, moved to Ohio. He had a fiance now too.
I wish him a very happy life, and a happy Halloween!
Let's get back to the main topic,
When it came to the house before, Three people lived there, but generally it was empty through and through, even when it was inhabited by others there were talks of who will be taking care of her, money, gratefulness, delusion.
I loved them all despite it, even if this is another story of mine where I say I could not feel any love.
The idea of love is more than enough in my eyes though.
Well, Halloween is the key factor in this story.
Going even further back in time to the charter school with uniforms, an "academy," Halloween served as a nostalgic escape. This was at the time where I was moving between so many different places, and each week I was at a different house.
This was of course when my mom's home led to lots of abuse, another led to some absentee, and another was unrestricted.
When school started, I would always look forward to Halloween for several reasons.
1: It happened so close to the beginning of the year
2: There were some haunted houses in that neighborhood which were cool, with one super cool one across the street from the school.
3: (most important) It brought family together.
My mom no longer celebrates Halloween, but those times were some of the closet I felt to her. I never wanted to hate her, even though I knew so much of what she did was irrational and sad. It's why we made up back in 2020.
The Halloweens were absolutely superb. I'm unsure of the candy hauls, but for as cheesy as it is, platitudes are always important. I felt the closeness and the happiness on a night like that.
I remember visiting the big haunted house across the street too and getting to be an impromptu scare actor for them! I would hide in the bushes or stand still and then go boo! I had so much fun and it was a great haunted house. (Although scaring people like that should only be in a consensual setting like a haunted house)
It was orange and cold, and the time itself felt saintly. When I went to Halloween after everything, it felt the same as well. I do know that for some years Halloween was skipped, but I can't remember when. I was always busy or working...or I didn't want to go alone; people were busy or there weren't any.
The last I went was a Halloween party about 3 years ago, but that one was confined and restricted.
I still get happy when this year always rolls around regardless. I love the atmosphere, the horrors, the costumes, the candy, and I love horror games.
I love the indie games the most...
hehe
I may be working this Halloween again, but I get off early enough (6 pm) to jump straight into trick or treating...I'll be the...computer repair ghost vampire! ... >~< (Have to abide by dress code...but I'll be wearing platforms and hopefully some vampire makeup if I have time, but I'm still learning eyeliner now that I finally have a good pencil)
Okay...this was another long one but thank you to whoever read this...
I love you and please take care of yourselves everyone!
- Victoria