I have been asked so many times throughout my life why I don't swear. Swearing is, as I believe, completely pointless. Trust me, when I am angry (which doesn't happen often), I can make my point without having to use vulgar words or profanity. Also, using swear words as adjectives just confuses me. Is it because people lack a larger vocabulary to describe things or is it because they think they are cool by throwing in profane adjectives every once in a while?

I grew up with people swearing constantly. My parents both swear, my friends swear, and my teachers also swear. I've heard the words my entire life, but could never bring myself to use them. And this is why.

When I was in elementary school, my parents were extremely strict (and I am glad for it). Whenever I would say a "bad" or inappropriate word, my parents would put a bar of soap in my mouth for a couple of minutes in order to teach me not to use that word again. By the end of those minutes, soap would be running down my throat and I would feel sick because of the taste in my mouth. I quickly found out that no matter how much pop I tried to drink afterwards, the taste of soap could not go away. So naturally, I stopped using "bad" words all together. And every time I hear profanity... my subconscious always reminds me of that bitter taste of soap. Also, swearing just makes many of the people I see seem unintelligent (not all, of course, but the majority). I hear the "F" word all the time in college and it is such a turn-off for me. That is one of the reasons I am embarressed to be categorized as a college student. There is one final reason: Taking God's name in vain is against my beliefs. It's as simple as that.

There are the many reasons why I don't swear. If someone could give me a good reason as to why people swear, I would love to hear it (as I have not heard an even mildly decent one yet).

Once again, I read another shocking, horribly disrespectful post. It was titled "where have all the emos gone?" and it described different ways in which the emos disappeared. One of them suggested that they all killed themselves. How horrible. This person and the majority of the people who commented on this post (300+) loved it, thought it was funny, and supported it. I couldn't believe the insensitivity of all of these people. Self-mutilation is a problem many people go through. They don't have to be emo to cut themselves... and just because they harm themselves doesn't mean they are doing it for attention. Self-mutilation is, for some people, a way to block out emotional pain by experiencing physical pain. Some people cut because it allows them to be in control of at least one thing in their lives. Others feel like they are not worth it or that they must be punished. For whatever reason, self-mutilation should not be made fun of UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. I know it isn't healthy to do... but thousands of people struggle with it all over the world. On another note: I like to wear dark clothes and I am a big fan of Twilight (not because I'm in love with anyone from the book/movie but because I feel like I can personally connect with Bella and Edward's relationship). My friends claimed me to be a goth, yet I am a passionate Catholic and I love God more than anything. I just prefer that style. I also don't dress like that for attention... I am the person who will be silent and sit and observe others. I deserve to be able to wear what I want without being disrespectfully judged. The post I had read was stereotypical and heartless and I hope that everyone who commented on it will one day see how wrong they were.

I try to keep up with life, but it rushes past me as if my feet were cemented to the ground. I wish I could, for once, be swept up in the rush of the roller coaster and be pulled forward, my heart beating frantically and my breath taken away. I can't let go of my past... it has made me what I am today. I just can't help but wonder what it is about me that makes people want to abuse me physically, emotionally, and mentally. The first guy that asked me out on a date happened when I was 15. I was too young to date, by my parent's rules, so we mainly just hung out a little in school. One day, he decided that he wanted to give our relationship a rough push, even though we had only been "together" for two weeks. He pulled me into the cafeteria, pushing me closer to him and forcibly trying to kiss me. I shoved him away, but he kept his arms locked tightly around me, refusing to let me go. I started yelling at him, shouting, "No, I'm not ready for this!" I started to drag myself toward the door that led out into the hallway, but he wouldn't let go. My wrist pulsed with pain as he attempted to pull me back into the deserted cafeteria. I continued to pull, scared to death, knowing that he was hurting me. I finally made it into the hall. He let go as soon as he saw other students walking towards us. That night I cried myself to sleep.

A year later, I was 16 - dating age. A guy that went to school with me asked me out, and I accepted. He made a good impression on my parents before he took me out, and I felt really comfortable with him. Then one night I was playing board games with him, my friends, and his friends at school. His friends started calling me a b**** for no reason, and he did nothing to defend me. The next day, we had a school assembly and instead of sitting by me, he sought out his ex-girlfriend and had a nice time with her all day. After school I attempted to confront him, but he ignored me and completely blew me off. A few days later he left a voicemail on my phone saying that he was breaking up with me and that he would explain it all to me the next day. He never talked to me or looked at me again. I never got an explaination.

Half a year after this incident, I met a new guy and was once again asked out to go on a date. He wasn't from my school and we had met through one of my friends at a formal dance. We hit it off wonderfully the first two weeks, but then... absolutely nothing. He just stopped talking to me and for almost three weeks I was attempting to contact him just so that I could break up with him. Everything he had told me was a lie.

And on top of this all, I found out that each of these three guys liked other girls WHILE they were going out with me. I felt so used and hurt so many times. All my life I had been called names and made fun of for my looks. My freshmen year of high school was nine months of misery.... I was constantly being criticized for my nose, my eyes, my hair, my body... random upperclassmen guys would call me names and rumors started about me because I was quiet and shy. I was eaten alive freshmen year.. I was at a new school and had no friends there... I was "weird" because I didn't go to any of the big parties, I studied a lot, and I never wore makeup. Guys in my class would steal my books and dangle them over garbage cans, taunting me with almost dropping them in.

My friends were another problem all together... I was used in elementary school, middle school, and high school by the people I most trusted. I do my best to help my friends out and to be there for them all the time. My thanks in return: being yelled at, gossiped about, and unfairly criticized. They would scream at me when nothing was my fault, they thought all the problems in their lives were way more important than anything that I could possibly go through, and they thought I had so many problems because I liked the color Black and that was the color of a lot of my clothes. They wouldn't stop to help me even when they saw the bitter pain in my eyes. They were all one-way friendships. I had given them my trust and they didn't even like me for who I was. They said that I "didn't know who I truly was yet." They couldn't accept me for me at all.

Just tonight, I was going to a friend's apartment to watch some movies. I am 18 and a freshmen in college. I got to the apartment, and my friend and her roommates were all there. (Note: they are all juniors in college and I only knew one of the girls living there). The whole time they were making fun of me because I wouldn't get their jokes and because of the mere fact that I was a freshmen and knew "nothing." Then, when I said I had to leave and get back to my dorm, two of them forcibly held me back and wouldn't let me leave. I braced myself on the floor, trying not to let them drag me back farther into the apartment. One of the girls actually attempted to karate chop the back of my knees so that they would buckle and the girls could prevent me from leaving. I finally got away, though, without using any violence on my part. I was soo scared though. I have never been held or hit like that by people I have never met before. They were actually hitting me. I'm sure it was just a part of their "fun game," but when I don't know them and they start forcing me against my will by violence, I get very freaked out.

Yes, I am a freshmen in college. I don't drink, have sex, go to parties, do drugs, or participate in any illegal activities at all. I also don't wear makeup. I know I'm not the skinniest girl out there... but I like my curves, my nose, and my almond-shaped eyes. Why does everyone want to hurt me? Why, in almost every relationship I've had, do people have to use me, control me, bring me down? Even my extended family has problems with me. My paternal grandmother hates my mom because my mom "took her boy away from her." My mom only married my dad and my dad still constantly saw my grandma. But because of the fact that my grandma couldn't let go of my dad, my grandma acts like she doesn't even love me (just because I am my mom's daughter). My mom did nothing wrong and is one of the nicest people I have ever known. My grandma had no right to treat my mom the way she did. I just don't understand!

This is part of my past, this is who I am. This is why I have trust issues with everyone. This is why I struggle to find myself beautiful or worthy of life. All of these things have made me stronger.... but they have also damaged me. There is hope in the darkness... there has to be.... or else I wouldn't be here right now. There are only five people I trust in this world: God, my Mom, my Dad, my brother, and Riley (my boyfriend). That number is not likely to change.... ever. I love everyone around me... I want to help others as much as I can. I am still there for all of my friends, dispite how they treat me. I want to the be the best person that I can be. Everyone struggles in life, everyone has difficulties. I want to be there to help as many people as I can, because I know how much it hurts, how painful it is being alone.

I am who I choose to be. I can't erase this past, but I can choose how my past affects me now and in the future. I am strong. Everyone has this strength... no one is alone, no one has to be.