So here is my annual summary of all things horrible in the life and times of Hallie Smith.
Believe it or not I actually submit this paper to my school.
I got expelled this year. I got expelled from California’s most prestigious Catholic college. My dad was not pleased.
2011 also was the end of a three and a half year long relationship. I spent the majority of the year dealing with what I thought was irreperable heartbreak, up until I realised that I was okay.
This year also marked an important step forward into normality for me. I somehow obtained an internship. It’s been crazy considering I’d never worked a day in my life before.
I got expelled from TA because I failed a drug test. That’s what all the final paper work said anyway.
My dad paid my way into TA, to be completely honest. I mean my senior year grade point average was awesome, so based on that alone I probably would have been accepted into any college I wanted. But college acceptance isn’t just based on GPA’s and on all my transfer papers it’s easy to see I’ve never been a perfect student. It’s hard to ignore the fact that I’ve been expelled once before adn spent the majority of my middle school years suspended from school. It’s a wonder how I even made it to my senior year, let alone college. Any headmaster in his or her right mind, if they wanted to keep a good reputation for the students at their school, would not have even considered my application. But fortunately, bribery will always work, or so I’ve learnt. My dad made a pretty large donation into the school and I got a place in their program.
I spent my freshman year high. I spent my sophomore year absent (and still high.) I spent my junior year high and also picked up a drinking habit and then I was finally expelled. I was expelled and only then did I realise what a great oppurtunity I’d thrown away. Typical me.
So now I’m attending a community college and I’m not studying a Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Arts majoring in Theology. I’m now studing a Liberal Studies degree majoring in Mathematics. I’m happier though, I think.
Late last year I was approached by a publisher after writing a 15’000 word essay on the death of my little sister. The publisher wanted me to draft a book - dream come true right? I sent away my first draft in June, and they were still keen to go ahead, until I pulled out. I’m not one hundred percent sure why, because I’ve literally dreamt for years of publishing my own book, of sharing the horror story that is my life. I wanted people to know that sometimes happy endings don’t exist. Then I realised that I still don’t want to believe that happy endings don’t exist, so I’m going to wait a little longer for mine, and then maybe I’ll be able to write a book with a little more substance than “my life is hell.” Maybe something like hell-hell-hell-hell-hell-hell-anticlimax-happiness.
Moving right along…
Christian. The love of my life, my saviour, my fiance, my reason to live, my everything…. broke up with me in February.
Apparently it takes someone three and a half years to realise that they “don’t want to live the rest of my life with a pessimistic, unstable writer that will never be willing to get a proper job.”
Christian is a childrens lawyer that spent the majority of his time volunteering his services to kids in need. Which I’m not denying is such an honest, selfless, beautiful thing to do. BUT had you asked Christian what he did he would probably tell you that he was one of Jesus’ deciples. So I guess me being, me, I’m just not worthy of a relationship with someone who does so much good, because I am a drop kick.
I did spend the next six months wallowing in self pity (suprise) and then I spent another month drunk. I literally spent the entire month drunk - do not take this lightly or sarcastically.
I was arrested twice this year. I’ve never been arrested before, which, considering my behaviour, is an unusual thing.
The first time I was arrested was for assualt. The neighbors called the police because they heard a girl (me) screaming and thought I was in trouble. Instead I was in some drug induced psychotic fit of rage that was directed at Christian and I spent a long time hitting him before realising my weakness and then dragging my fingernails down his face, whilst he stood there, still. There were tears and I think this could have been the pinacle of our relationship falling apart. I mean, you can’t get past that.
The next time I was arrested was during my month of binge drinking, this time I was suicidal, again. I’ve never been tactful during any of my suicide attempts. I lied on a highway, one car swerved me and the second car to come along, conveniently was the LAPD, so I was picked up in a drunken stupor and taken back to a holding cell. I spent the first five minutes of my twenty one hours there using my shoes to hit myself n the head, then my shoes were confiscated, which began twenty hours and fifty five minutes of such extreme hating on Hallie time. I asked an officer on guard if he had any kids and he told me that he did, I then told him that his kids hated him and he just nodded and said he knew. I think in an effort to hurt him, I hurt me.
So I’m in a holding cell trying to insult anyone I can and then I just get this overwhelming feelinf of guilt that I’ve never had before. You see I’ve always felt guilty for living when my sister died, because I’ve always felt that she was so much more worthy of a life - because I am a useless waste of space (if you’ve read this far and failed to realise this, you are also a useless waste of space.) But I’ve never before felt guilty for how I’ve made people feel over the last ten years. I’ve never realised how horrible my parents, mainly my dad would have felt during every suicide attempt, every melt down, every time I decided to stop talking or eating, or every time I overdosed. How defensless and helpless he must of felt, and still to this day this behaviour continues. So realising how much hating myself hurts others has only made me hate myself more.
I’ve learnt nothing this year, to be honest. Like every other year I’ve had extreme ups and downs, but I have not learnt a thing. I still drink until I am not myself. I still have a drug habit. I still have approximately 521 unread emails from my father. I am still a fuck up.
