Carl, Shrooms, and Punching Masochistic Squirrels

TomorrowWorld 2015 – The India Carmichael Edition.
It was Thursday 24 September 2015 when I made my next split-second bold and undaunted decision for an opportunity of adventure, that would surely not come around again any time soon. [sorry if that sentence grammar was pitiful…]

Recently, I’d found myself in a time of my life when it was entirely falling apart. Like, it was as if everything blew up in an atomic bomb and as I tried to put it back together, I was suffering from the radiation in the aftermath.

So, naturally I still had to take care of the necessities; it was at Publix, trying to find the ramen noodles that my entire weekend took a turn for the adventurous and outrageous (for such it being so last minute). I mean, one minute I’m talking to this guy I know, (well, really he is just a bouncer at the bar I go to almost every night, which obviously meant we we’d been snapchat buddies for a 3 days short of how long we’d known each other) – but the next, he’s inviting me to TomorrowWorld with him and his buddy! So, given my rule for life to never turn down an opportunity for adventure; I agreed. 45 minutes later, I’m in the back of his Tahoe munching on my spoonful of peanut butter, and jamming out to a myriad of mixes by the artists we were headed to see.

Well, let me tell you – it wasn’t long before I began to regret my decision. Earlier, Hayden and Eli had organized to pick up a shit ton of drugs on the drive to ATL; so, for the obvious reasons that this is me and my life is always a combination of the obscene, the ridiculous, the hysterical, the unbelievable, and the outrageous, it was no surprise that things got sketchy real fast.

Shitty part 1:

First; Hayden drives us to this 5-star hotel, which in itself is a little weird for a major drug deal with an Atlanta gang member. From there; Hayden was instructed via text message to wait in the lobby for his guy, and to send his friends away, as they didn’t know us – therefore, we couldn’t be trusted; understandable. THEN; as Eli and I went in search of food (a near-impossible mission for 11pm on a Thursdy night), Hayden kept us updated through various texts reading along the lines of “omg this is so sketch… thank God I have my gun down my pants” (only in the south…), “we’re on the move to a guy’s place… wtf is going on, we’re at a warehouse… In an uber now heading back to the hotel WHERE R U???…So, that happened, meanwhile though; Eli and I, after several attempts at finding food, we came upon an upscale bar that was still serving food. KA-CHING. We made him Uber to us because the food was so damn good.  

Shitty situation 2:

It was raining. I mean full-on – monsoon-like, torrential, and giant golf ball-sized rain drops – raining. We had to make several trips form the car lot to our tent spot, during the rainfall. I’m telling you EVERYTHING was wet. I ruined my white converse – permanently and forever a weird brown stain blotched across my beloved shoes.

Shitty situation 3: 

Because of my last minute decision, I didn’t have much time to think on weather conditions when I packed my bag. So, obviously I forgot a lot of stuff when I didn’t expect it to be raining ALL weekend. Situation: no raincoat (though for whatever reason I did think to bring rain boots…), no sweaters for the cold nights, no pillow, and the worst part no drugs.

Shitty situation 4:

My friends left me to find my own way home. See my post regarding how I managed to get home without being raped and murdered, and would later be found chopped up on the side of the road.

Despite these less-than-stellar setbacks, I did manage to still have an extraordinary experience.

1. I met some incredible people.

2. I had some really genuinely eye-opening (and, okay, yes, drug-induced) realizations about my life.

3. I did shrooms for the first time.

4. I did some really fucking amazing dietcocaine – like, it was hitting me full-on not even 2 minutes after ingesting.

5. I had my first, and obviously only… , true fan girl moment when I hugged the sax player of my favorite artist performing the entire weekend. Omg it was fucking awesome – I’m still freaking out and clearly not over it…

6. I had a weekend away from all the bullshit in my life and was able to just let go, and forget about it for all of 3 1/2 days.

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It started 2 July 2009

Its a scary thought to realize you no longer recognize yourself anymore. 

You wonder and question how you could have strayed so far from the girl you once were; or, when it really was that you began to wander down this destructive and undesirable path you seem to have taken. 

I’m 21 years old, and I can’t see myself, who I once was, in the mirror anymore;

I can’t fall asleep without desperately clinging to my memories of times I went wrong.

“You’re so different now.”

AKA What happened to the girl we used to know and adore, and why do you have to be the one to replace her?

The girls who once knew me so well – better than anyone in the world – I drifted from; returning years later, only to discover nothing was as it once had been, nor would it ever be close to it either.

They tell me I’ve changed; but really they want to know how and why I became such a different person. 

I wish I could tell them. I wish I could explain it. 

Because, then at least I would know, too.


“That child is a different kind of person, don’t ever break her spirit”

“Oh, don’t worry – [childhood nickname] is indestructible.”

But I wasn’t. I’m not.

I think back; racking my brain; screaming and demanding for answers, but I only receive silence. 

Then, a faint whisper, delicate and accusatory. It invades my mind. A younger, but stronger and more free-willed person than I’ve been in so long, “you broke my spirit, you rattled and shook me off. You don’t deserve them – the ones you love. You don’t deserve anyone. I did – I do; but not you, not ever you.”

I’ve lost myself. 

I’ve lose my precociousness, my confidence, madness, joy, appreciation, sense of identity.

Who is this person I have become?

Who is this monster that lies and fears; not only what lurks under the bed, not only the world at large. More than anything, this monster within herself and whom she has become?


I saw a piece of myself again, once. But, I lost it and have only spiraled even more heavily since.

I recognized my change in attitude, spirit, eagerness, curiousity, creativity. I witnessed the looks of disbelief and disappointment in the aversion of an eye, the slight tug of a frown, the pinch of a cheek, the twitching furrow of a brow.

How have I lost myself so badly?

I’m afraid.

Afraid I’ll never live again

I’ll never love again, or be loved 

I’ll never grow and experience again

I’ll never laugh and care again


Since I’ve disappeared; in so many different places, they have called me a psycho bitch.

I could never understood. I couldn’t fathom why or how they could feel so strongly in such a hurtful and spiteful manner.

But even I can no longer hide from who I’ve become, who I now am.


How did I lose the identity that set me apart in the best of ways?

How did I lose the girl with a never ending supply of laughter and love?

And, how do I get her back? 

 

This Lost Dream


Innocence and betrayal

Lacking in motivation

How do we speak

The words we feel

When what we see

Is not all that is meant to be.


Breaks on your heart

Stomp on your dreams

Stop this pain

Or leave again.


Hear my breath

Touch my soul

My eyes, they plead

For a long ago dream.


Forgiveness and torment

To be lost and ignored

This scar you drew

On my heart is real.


Boys 10:30 pm; June 20 2015

This weekend has blown my mind. My mom always told me boys and girls can never just be friends, that there will always be lingering feelings of attraction, even if it’s unrequited. The movies always told me the same thing too. This weekend has shown me that they were lying. Boys and girls really can just be friends. Good friends, even. It’s all a matter of finding the right guys who will love you no matter what you do, as they would love any other one of their bros. 

the cup of tea i don’t remember having

2:02am

I’m thinking back. I’m remembering; not a lot, just small snippets, words, flashes, emotions, questions, and haze. For the most part, I don’t know what happened that night. The last thing I remember clearly was kissing him at the bar. And falling- or did I just slightly slip? I remember sitting on his lap in a small car. I remember being in an apartment and standing by an island/bar thing in the kitchen. I think we were at [[off-campus student apartment complex]]. I remember Alec handing me a glass of water. I remember swaying quite a bit and propping myself up against the wall. I remember thinking that this was almost certainly the drunkest I’ve ever been that I could consciously acknowledge.

I’ve been full on blacked out once before, but the pieces I can still sometimes grasp of that night, I did also acknowledge that I was drunk- but I wasn’t concerned about it the way I was with Alec that next time, the other previous time- I was happy drunk. I was “let’s go on an adventure” drunk, not “oh my god, I don’t know if I can walk to that door 5 ft away without falling.. I just want to lay down… I don’t care where, TBH. I don’t even care what Alec thinks of me and my drunkenness anymore. He’s nice. He’ll understand. I definitely need more water” drunk, like this next time.

I don’t remember walking to the door. I don’t remember sitting on the bed. I don’t remember who made the first move. I don’t remember if I was even present [at the time this was happening]. I think I remember kissing him in the bed, but I don’t know if I really do or if I just made it up in my head. I remember saying “condom! We have to use a condom.” But I don’t remember anything leading to that moment. Not at all from the moment Alec handed me that glass of water. I slightly remember him leading me to the bedroom but IDK if I actually do. I remember Alec saying “turn over- I want to take you from behind.” I think I remember obliging, actually no I don’t think I do.. IDK.

I remember a knocking on the wall from the other side of it, so I put my arm up and knocked back. I started to think about that movie I watched as a kid w that boy at a hotel who tried to save a monkey from his owner. The boy knocked on a suitcase -Idfk why but he did- and he heard knocking back. It was the monkey inside. Dunston Checks In. When I knocked back, I think Alec told me not to and pulled my hand back down. I don’t know when this occurred in the time we were in the bed. The bed with no sheets.

I remember feeling uncomfortable. It is my strongest memory. I was being watched. I was sitting in the bed, somewhat attempting to cover myself with spare pieces of Alec’s clothing. I was naked under them. The fat guy was standing there. On Alec’s left. He was watching me. He was saying Alec didn’t even live there. That this was his room. His bed. Not Alec’s. He asked me if I was really naked and covering myself with Alec’s clothes. I remember Alec’s other super strong friend who I always thought seemed nice, being on his other side. His right side. FatBoy on his left. I remember feeling uncomfortable. Scared uncomfortable. Like something bad was going to happen uncomfortable. I felt ridiculed. I felt judged. I felt laughed at and made fun of. I felt like a joke. Like entertainment for them. I remember being afraid. I started to wonder if I was going to have to have sex with them too.

Alec gathered my clothes for me. I remember getting dressed while they all watched me.

I want to cry as I reflect on that part of the night, that is how uncomfortable I feel about it. I want to cry and talk to someone.

Anyone.

Allison. I want to talk to Allison. I’ve told Milla parts, but I don’t really trust her with all of it. She doesn’t believe in… this sort of thing.

I laughed most of it off- like I was just embarrassed. But I’m not. I’m humiliated- in the deepest and most disturbed way I’ve ever known.

I think they saw me put my bra back on. I think they saw me put my thong [back] on. Idk if they saw anything though. I remember feeling uncomfortable and afraid. So afraid and so uncomfortable.

I want to talk to my mom about it, but I know she doesn’t want to hear about my sex life. And I don’t want her to call it rape and try to press charges or then try to pull me out of school here. Because it wasn’t rape. I wanted to hook up with him, just not right away. I wanted to wait, and hook up some time later on. I didn’t just want to give it up right away. I wanted to do it sometime in the future- like in a month or something.

But I always fuck up when I’m drunk. I do things on impulse and I don’t consider what Sober-Me wants. It’s like I have no boundaries, no morals, no self respect.

I should be studying for finals. I should be working on my make up work. I should be packing.

It’s 4:14 am.

I should be sleeping. But I can’t. I keep thinking back on that night.

My phone was broken. What if it hadn’t been? How would that have changed the events of it all? I think maybe I would have tried to call someone before I went into the bedroom. Or text. I might have texted Ari. Or Allison. Or Caleb. Or Tommy. Or Jason. Or Milla. Or even, Bella. I could have. I should have told them to come get me. I think I would have told them to come get me. I feel like I definitely would have. I’m attached to my phone. [Every time I go out] I choose someone I trust, and I text them all through the night. I know they can tell how drunk I’m getting with each text. I tell them exactly how I’m feeling and what I’m doing and where I am- if I know. I know I would have asked for help.

I feel taken advantage of. I feel embarrassed. And gross. I almost feel violated, even. I feel ridiculed and paranoid. What if they have told everyone and laugh about it between themselves?

I feel so uncomfortable. That’s the only truth I’ve disclosed with anyone about that night. I laugh it off. I put on a smile. [Waving my arms around elaborately] I exclaim about losing my wallet and breaking my phone, and act exasperated and faux-freak out that I may or may not have had sex with Alec. I act like its a joke; just another wild adventure on a night out in the life of India. But it’s not.

I feel more than uncomfortable about it all. I feel almost disturbed and IDEK.

There are worse things that have happened to other girls. Gang rape. Savagely abused. There are worse things.

But Alec was sober. Or at least a lot more than I was. Sober enough to see and understand and acknowledge how hammered I was. How gone [I was – how checked out I was]. He should have known better.

There are worse things, yet I still feel distraught over it. Like I don’t even know how to make sense [of it all]. I need to talk to Madonna about this. First thing when I get back. I’ll text her now.

But he was sober. He was stone cold sober. I was hammered. I can’t wrap my mind around that.

Couldn’t he tell? Couldn’t he see I was in no way, in any condition to make any responsible decisions, or even one at all.

Or maybe Alec could and he did; but he just chose to ignore it. IDK.

Disclaimer:: for the purpose of allowing all y’all to share the raw thoughts and emotions in this piece – the only edits I’ve made are in regard to format, names et al, and I also edited some of the writing BUT they were only the parts I felt you needed more information to better understand the train of thought I was following. I’ve bracketed and bolded my inserted information; however, I did not remove anything from the original writing.