P.S. I’m writing you out of the will for this.
P.P.S. HA! Like I have a will.
P.P.P.S. I’m actually giving your inheritance to out of work actors so they can howl at my graveside.
P.P.P.P.S. No, I’m not kidding.
Well, at least it’s not me ruining THIS summer. Other summers, well, that was all me.
When I was a kid, it was all, “DON’T TOUCH THIS, OR IT’LL BLOW YOUR HAND OFF” followed by a brief burst of light, a huge bang, and a ton of smoke. THOSE were the good old days, even if they lasted mere seconds and scared me into pissing my pants.
But now, I can’t find a sparkler to save my own skin. I can’t yell at my children to “STEP AWAY OR YOU’LL DIE” because there’s nothing with which they can lose even a single leg. Some call this progress. I call it bullshit.
It is my God Given Right as an American to shoot my own fucking eye out.
Sure, you wouldn’t know that fireworks were actually banned by the amount going off in my neighborhood for the past week or two, but that only further enrages me. How could I have been so stupid as to NOT drive over to a neighboring state for some dangerous fun? I’m sure Missouri isn’t quite as big an asshole as Illinois.
(Dear Missouri, Let’s make out. Love, AB)
Considering our new state motto, “We Impeach Our Corrupt Governors,” one might THINK that Illinois had Fun on speed dial, but without fireworks, it’s simply untrue.
Sure, I can still buy those stupid things you can throw at the ground that make a big SNAP! noise, but those are kinda piddly bullshit, you know? What kid is all “LOOKIT THIS, I CAN MAKE A BANG?” How can I create ACTUAL MEMORIES of acrid gunsmoke and brief flashes of awesome?
Simply put, I cannot.
Until, I suppose, I buy a semi-automatic weapon and use THAT motherfucker instead of fireworks.
That’ll learn you, Illinois, for being such an assmunch.
P.S. Despite my pleas, The Target won’t stock the lethal form of Jarts. I call bullshit.
Hey Aunt Becky!
First off, I’d like to say that I think you are an amazing, hilarious, smart, talented person. I’m not trying to suck up, I really do think this.
Secondly, my question is kind of simple, but I just don’t know what to do.
See, I’m probably one of your younger readers. As in, I can’t get my license right now because I’m not quite old enough. I am also depressed with borderline OCD, self-mutilation problems, and struggling with an eating disorder. As a teenage girl, most people just chalk all of this up to teenage angst and silly attention-whoring.
To be honest, they might be right. I’ve been getting better, slowly, but it’s difficult. Anyway, I’m just lost. You see, my older brother is going off to college in a few months and I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. I’ve had to deal with(and still do) years of emotional and sometimes physical abuse. I have an extremely difficult time talking about all of this, even to an anonymous place like Band Back Together.
Anyway, with my brother leaving, and more issues, I feel like I’m spiraling back down where I used to be. I don’t want to go back to the place I was in. I just don’t know what to do. Talking to people, is pointless, as they just tell me that my life isn’t that bad, so why am I depressed?
I realize this is long and rambling and kind of pointless, but I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to pull myself back out of this…shithole(excuse my french) that I’m stuck in. What do I do? Thank you for reading all of this.
-Stuck in CS
Oh Prankster, you’re breaking my heart.
First, you’re not an attention whore. People who suffer from mental illness – especially self-injury – often are told that it’s just an “attention getting thing.”
They couldn’t be more wrong or more dangerous. Self-injury is a symptom of disease, just like high blood sugar is a symptom of The Diabeetus. Mental illness is no different than The Diabeetus.
I’m sorry that no one takes you seriously, because I a) understand and b) think it’s bullshit anyone else doesn’t. Mental illness is a serious disorder and should be taken as such.
Clearly, you need to find someone better, who is not bullshit, to talk to. Do you have a guidance counselor at school (shut your whore mouth, I loved my counselor) that doesn’t suck? Will your family listen? A family friend? Because you need to get into treatment of some type.
I’m going to give you some phone numbers that I’d like you to call:
Boys Town National Hotline:
You don’t have to be a dude for the Boys Town hotline, and I’m certain they’ll have some valuable information and insight to give you.
If you are still being abused, please call this number to report it: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453) then push 1 to talk to a hotline counselor.
Prankster, you’re not alone, and we’re all rooting for you. I know how hard life can be sometimes (boy, do I ever) and I wish I’d had someone to talk to me during those turbulent teen years. I hope that you do write for Band Back Together, that you tell your story over there so it can help both you and others like you.
If I could tell my teen self one thing, it would be this: “it all passes.” Because it does. You’ll get through this because I can tell by your email that you’re a fighter. And anyone who doesn’t take you or your problems seriously because you’re a teenager is bullshit. Fuck them.
Keep reaching out. Grab the edge of that spiral and make it your bitch. You can get through this. I wish like hell it was easier for you.
Sending you love and light and a big, fat, hug,
Aunt Motherfucking Becky
Pranksters, please help me help this girl. Give her some love and/or advice.