Why April is Seriously Cool

So, I know it's not April yet. Today I turned my wall calender page to April because I had several things to write on it, and I figured, hey, it's just one more day, I'll just pin it here anyway. My roommate comes in and says, "Hey! It's not April!" No, it is, indeed, not April.

But I wish it was.

Here are the exciting things happening in April. For one, Jill Sobule's new CD, California Days (I think that's right, but don't quote me...) is coming out on the fourteenth. Melanie Rawn is publishing Spellbinder 2 (Fire Raiser!) sometime in April...yeah, I wish I could pin down the date too. My best friend's birthday is in April, which is basically a fabulous excuse for me to drive up to the big city to see her (Wish I could see that girl more often). On top of that, there's Easter, which is one of my favorite celebrations EVER!

I thought I might include some interesting facts about April as long as I was on the topic. Be warned that I am lazy and am therefore getting my information from Wikipedia, meaning that it may be accurate, or it may be absolute bullshit, but either way, it ought to be interesting.

April is National Poetry month, Sexual assault awareness month, and Jazz Appreciation month. And don't forget April Fools Day. When I was ten years old, I had the perfect plan for April Fools. I was going to get up early out of bed and tell my mother that it had snowed and that school was canceled (hell, it was worth a shot, right?) So I get up on April 1st and while my mother is in the bathroom, I look out the blinds, thinking about my awesome plan to find that it has been snowing all night long and that school has been canceled. Foiled again. It would have been great if that hadn't happened. Then again, I certainly didn't mind the day off. Having April Fool's off when you are a kid who is bullied frequently is quite wonderful.

Anyway, I'm excited for April (one day more!).

So yesterday...I cut myself four times. I succumbed to the feeling, but I'm hoping I won't again. I think I told you about a story I'm writing called Razor Freak. Well, even though it has no direct relation to my life (except for the cutting), writing it is extremely, because of how I'm writing it. The idea is that this girl, who has no friends, kind of makes her own and she lives so deeply in her own world that things talk to her and this includes the razor, who is always tempting her to make another cut, it's always whispering in her ear. This can be mildly triggering for me to write or read or edit, so I gave into this feeling I've been missing. But I'm sincerely trying to to have this problem again. Baby steps. One day at a time. If I can just make one day at a time, I'll be okay.

What hurts me more, inside, is that I got into an argument with my mother yesterday and she asked me (because she can, apparantly) if I'd cut recently. And I had literally made these cuts an hour before. "No," I said, placing my legs closer together and pushing my bag further up in my lap, so she couldn't even see down to the floor where my feet were.

This is going to be the last. I'm going to try as hard as I can for this to be the last.

I'm doing better, but I could use all the encouragement and silent prayers I can get, my nonexistant followers.

Lizzie Arlen