a heart to heart

momma, this is from me to you.
I honestly wish that tomorrow some accident will occur, and maybe I can be lucky enough to pass away. I hope that someone will do the duty, and put me out of my misery. I hope that once I am dead, I can be reunited with my one, and only once again. I can only hope that some miracle of death can bring me back to happiness, and that this death can bring me you. Personally death can be a selfish thing, but the only person I would be disappointing is my grandmother, and the doctor. I truly believe dad could care less if I were to die. The way he acts now towards my feelings is horrific, and cruel. If I were dead maybe he would realize that my life isn't as easy, and effortless as he thinks. I believe that he would realize how difficult, and challenging my life is, and how many depressing emotions run through my body. I have so many flaws, that I can barely take a couple mean jokes. I cry, and try to shake off the rude, rude comments that people just say, as if it was not harmful, but really is hurtful, and I wish they would comprehend.
I don't want to die because of rude bullies, I want to die because I have nothing to live for. I have nothing, but nana, and the doctor. It seems like nothing I do will ever be good enough, or perfect. I am judged, and my emotions take over and I can't control them. I cant control anything. I wish for everything. I wish to be pretty, I wish to have a mother, I wish to be skinny, I wish to be rich, I wish to be everything I am not. It is me that is so engulfed over the fact I want to change everything, but I cant. I want to change, but change comes with an explanation, and a pay check, two of which I don't have, or just don't want to give.

get a clue

I realized that lately, I have been very selfish. This whole blog is about my life, and mine only. I mention time, over time, that my life sucks, and your death is at fault. The suckish truth is, that is the truth. I know that posts are repetitive, and annoying, but it is just how I feel. I am supposed to share what your life was, not mine currently. Yes, I have struggles due to your death, but I shouldn't rant on about my troubles. I need to talk about you, and you only. Momma, you are my only priority. I wish that I don't know, I could magically poof you back into existence to rant about my problems to you, but that wont happen. That being said, I need to let go, and only worry about things that are important, like you.
you are my only problem, and I love you.

momma, momma

I have been wondering what life would have been life if you were here. I have come across several conclusions.
one: I wouldn't have to rely on dad for anything, for example: school shopping, money, to drive me places, to take interest in my grades, or lies/dislikes, or to plan things accordingly.
two: I could speak freely about my issues, or problems.
three: I would have more experience on what it is like to be a girl.
four: I would grow up, satisfied, and loving my life.
five: I wouldn't be so depressed about not having anything that a mother provides.
six: I would just be like ever other girl, and have their mother bring them to the mall, or take them on a shopping trip just cuz.
seven: I wouldn't have a worry about my friends not staying over because there is only a man in the house.
eight: This household would be organized, and on schedule.
nine: My house would not be this crazed do whatever, be whatever.
ten: I would not be writing this stupid ass blog.

advice is what a mother gives

hey momma,

Due to many curious questions, I have been told I act, and look older. It appeared to me that the only reason I act like an adult, is because I had to grow up.

 I had to learn to adapt with whatever I thought girls did, or do. I had to learn to use a tampon by myself, I had to learn to keep some things to myself, I had to learn to go shopping by myself sometimes, I had to learn to deal with my problems on my own, I had to learn how to dress properly, I had to learn how to do my own eyebrows - dad wont let me get them waxed, I had to learn to be independent, I had to learn to apply makeup, I had to learn to tutor myself, I had to learn to cook for myself when dad is working late, I had to learn how to cope with death, and more importantly, I had to learn how to not have a mother. 

This isn't pity, I just have no clue on what to even do with myself, because I am clueless on what to next. I need my influence, you, momma.

loses, bruises

The years increase, since you've passed. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it was only five years. Five years is an extremely long time, but, our separation feels more distant into the future. It feels like maybe 10, or 15 years ago. 

Our memories, and conversations seem to fade away as I get older. They seem to erase out of my mind, to make room for the new ones to come. I don't want to forget, and I shouldn't forget, why am I forgetting. You are my mother, most people could clinch onto old memories of important things like that. I loose track of some moments, and some laughs, or joke, I loose track of most of it. The only memory I can't lack, is the image of your cold, pale body lying on a hospital bed, while many people were drenched in tears. I can't shake your death, but our memories seem to be forgotten easier than your death. Why mommy, why is this happening. I want you, I need you. I need some satisfaction of our times together, our everything together. I know I was to young to remember, but I want too. 

mommy, don't leave me for good. 

we miss paula

i miss you

your story

paula christine blanco-schmidt             May 29, 1967 - August 23, 2009

May bloomed into another day, and a gorgeous, expected blonde hair-green eyed, baby girl was brought the world. What should we call her? "Paula"

"Paula" how beautiful. Paula was as beautiful, and bold, and well, one of a kind. Paula, was a trash-talker, and good at it. Paula had a good heart, and a cocky attitude. 

One unexpected encounter, lead to me. My father, who back then, was the "ladies man" had been working at her father's house. She was 23 years old, and he was 33, and his name was Gary. 

Gary caught my mother's eye, and she hung by him a lot more, and my father was down for the ride. Paula, and Gary feel deeply in love, and before you know it, they were talking about commitment. Paula assured him that she wanted to finish college, before settling down, with kids, in a house, with serious jobs. 

A few years later, she finished college, and became a teacher. Paula surely, impacted her students. Paula, and Gary had married, and Paula was pregnant on her honeymoon, typical story. 

None the less, I was born August 10, 1999. That baby, was cherished, and treated like no other, until late 2006. My mother had gotten sick, and not the good sick, the deadly sick. She inherited a type of Ovarian cancer, and caught it too late. Although she caught it late, there was no cure for it anyway. Although, she was supposed to die soon, she didn't. Strong, and confident Paula, stuck through it. Her character, portrayed a brave woman, and she held that reputation. Three years, like a king, she fought the battle of cancer. 

Many days, she felt lousy, some days, she felt a-okay. She endured thousands of tests, and surgeries, since they had no cure, they had nothing else to do. The day before she passed, she had the best day, then the next she applied to a "death hospital" where she died, like planned. 

August 23, 2009, Paula lost her battle. 

Paula now has a future in heaven, she has a better life, where she can be painless, and free. No surgeries, no needles, no drugs, just gigantic globs of white cotton candy clouds, and the best view imaginable. 

I should be happy for her, but I am not, I want her. 

I want you. 

inspiration

lately, I have been lacking one thing, that one thing, that you can provide.

 inspiration. 

you were my inspiration, and I lost all hope, and inspiration, and confidence when you passed.

i don't have anything to keep me going, nothing to keep me confident, laughing, and hopeful. 

i have nada, and nada, is nothing. 

momma, when you were sick all those years, i had the hope that you would make it, but you didn't.

and when you didn't, I lost all of everything. 

i became emotionless, because your death used them all up. 

it's weird that everything saddens me, because comparing it to your death, is no where near, as tragic. 

you gave me my beginning, and your end. 

so this is the end, of my speech.

at the cemetery, I left this, and sad enough, it became trash to the staff. I just wanted this to be published, and visible.

our song

I came across a song that is destined to be ours
It's called Heaven by Beyonce.
Listening to it makes me relate to your passing away, and I don't know, cope?

a dedication for momma

Mommy, this blog is yours. In heaven, feel free to read all about it! This is just to plot all my feelings, and pictures, about you, and for you.
i love you, maddie