oh look what i found

"Saskia Davies
1/29/09
Period 6
Final Draft Memoir Piece


Life was an abysmal hole of blackness, there was nothing you could say or do anymore, Jeff’s sunshine barely lite up my world anymore and Mackenzie’s icy coldness burned my heated body. Days were getting darker and darker and life was becoming almost unbearable. Life was nothing more but trying to talk to my sunshine and making it through the day.

Mackenzie was and will always be my creator in a sense, the person that started this stupid snowball leading up to this hard defrosting. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t keep pushing on this mass of black snow, I did tell it to keep rolling, it’s just, she was the one that somehow found me bearable in 7th grade and introduced me to this dark icy world. The ice and the dark I soon learned to love. The heat I once pushed to her, defrosting her, well hat was long gone instead replaced with deep rivets of hard ice. But who could blame me? I was a blank slate with no direction and I took the one that was most appealing, the one towards Mackenzie.

Everyday from the day that I met Mackenzie in 7th grade was getting darker and darker, happiness was a thing that came few and far between, the realization came too coon that is was I causing myself this pain and utter misery. This depression was caused by me and the simple fact was I loved it. Loved the feeling of numbness in my chest, the utter exploding of just wanting to get out of my mind for five minutes, in the same moment I repulsed myself, this pain had to end, this self murdering anger and destruction. It had to go. The person I had made myself into had to go. Every moment I did reach the wonderful release of happiness, my body screamed for the pain back, I wasn’t complete without the dark shades over my eyes. I wasn’t the new Saskia. Without those coverings I was naïve and helpless, irritating and bothersome, Not with the shades. Though my cries were heard, I was rejected. I couldn’t be helped. So in a way, I was helpless Saskia once more.

No matter though, my black shades were better, and always would, at least I thought in my beaten red mind. My escape was the tapping of my keys in Language Arts or whenever I had access o a laptop at school, absorbing myself throng into whatever flowed out of my black finger nailed digits really what did it matter to me that my words did not flow happiness or optimism but in turn deeply sorrowing and confused analogies and rhythms that no one but myself truly knew the meaning of, it was in those words I found my escape, I blocked out the world and focused on new ways to describe me and my thoughts. When I wrote I didn’t realize I was hurting myself even more.

Now that my little cycle had started nothing mattered, nothing was needed but me and many sleepless nights with my mind and my journal. I’d text Jeff and Mackenzie though my heart wasn’t into the talking to the latter, anger seared in me for that the tables had turned in our relationship; she was the happy one, content with her life, loving her life, while I was here far away from loving my life, far away from loving anything else but Jeffrey.

My nights and weekends involved nothing more but sitting and trying to contact someone who would understand, still I didn’t want help. I didn’t want anything but words of comfort. All I wanted was Jeff’s voice and texts, sure some days I’d talk to Mackenzie, and enjoy myself,. But something vital had changed in year and I had felt her, something I could always relate to in her, it was gone. Seemed like my one source of life, understanding was gone and she could care less to try to help me out of my little box of horrors Sure Jeff tried to understand. But I felt like I was corrupting the minor. I didn’t want to be Mackenzie in that sense, nonetheless he couldn’t understand this darkness for his happiness was easier, and for me darkness was easier.

I’d write daily in my journals shut out the real world around me, just absorb myself into my scrawling script of cursive and print. I listened to my Ipod as much as possible listening to every word and every time creating new agony. Many days I wondered why I even tried anymore, tried to get good grades, tried to be nice, tried to even be normal. I wasn’t it was simple, I wasn’t happy, why did I even try to say “I’m okay” anymore, because I was far from okay. I was constantly in a battle with myself trying to break the promises I made and deciding whether or not to give in to my won will, give in to slicing misled down to shreds, just to get out, to give myself something I could control. Often I’d give in, the guilt adding to my numb chest wasn’t comforting, because I had broken the promises to the people I loved the most and to read the pain on their faces when I confessed my crimes was by far the worst. By far.



By December 22 my life somewhat brighter, whether it was from my own doing or just that it had been raining a lot recently I still don’t know. But that day has, I guess turned my life around. It wasn’t just me going over to Jeff’s house or finally spilling out I WASN”T fragile. That did it, but in-fact the message Mackenzie sent me bursting with accusations because I had asked for it. I had asked for everything that she was upset about with me. I had spilled out the anger of being treated as a china doll, I was asking for the new pain I new she would give me, and truly I wanted to know. What I have done wrong… Every word seared with anger and muted pain. She told me just how much she didn’t believe me that I wasn’t fragile, that she couldn’t help me anymore. She just couldn’t because everything and anything she has told me to make me happy since 7th grade to make me happy, to “chin up” wasn’t working and since 7th grade there had been no improvement. No change except for my little downward slide into darker and darker places. No, it was teem for me to get happy or get help, because she couldn’t help me anymore, I had unrealistic expectations for my boyfriend, I wallow in my depressionstic thoughts and feelings and for once she didn’t understand why I wasn’t happy. There was something inside of me that kept me sad.

Tears spilled down my face and my chest burned with what I had read, these words cut deeper than anything self-inflicted. These words were truer than any mentioned to me She knew me better than I thought…

She had it right, I COULDN”T be happy, my body refused to, or maybe more in fact my head refused to let me. I refused to let myself, I looked for things to hurt and destroy myself with. What I though I kept so carefully hidden she knew. Maybe she knew because she used to be the same way. Just because the word were true didn’t mean they didn’t hurt… reading the message reduced me to tears something I hadn’t been to in a while.

The harshly put words woke me up to what I was doing to my family, my friends, and the people that I would in turn die for. The hurt of realizing, almost knocked me over, I was going to get better this time I swore to Mackenzie, I swore to myself. Not just for me was I going to get better, I was going to get happy for everyone else in my life. I wasn’t going to wallow in this whole of a life I had made for myself, though my days of seclusion in Europe challenged, I pushed, and hard to over come all my negative feelings. I challenged myself and in a way hurt myself even more. I had to destroy and reconstruct myself in a few days or at least get eth foundations made because the secluded place I was in was not the “real world”. I was in a safe place and wasn’t able to fully understand in that sanctuary my own powers. In the cold winter of the Netherlands I was safe, back in dry Arizona…. I wasn’t so sure. I was reduced to going through my feelings, down to the base reason I was upset realizing I shouldn’t feel that way, and in a way reconstructing my city. Happiness was flooding through my once dark mind and for once I felt complete.

Still I’m not completely happy with life or who I am, but who is? Who loves everything in their life? Still everything is much, much happy. I realize just how much I love everything around me, form m tea in the morning to the long walks in the freezing cold with Will, to even my scars left behind from the nights I felt the most alone. I love so much it’s funny how my creator can be my destroyer in both a good and a bad sense; still I will always love Mackenzie Crawford.



You know, forever and for always.







I have once heard, that the point of life is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways totally worn out, screaming “what a ride”

…. and what a ride it has been"














I still will always love you mackenzie Crawford. don't forget that