Danielle Keeler

think about it.

Archive for August 2011

To a uterus…

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I do not understand why you enjoy torturing me so.  Why is it that no matter what painkillers I take, you insist on stabbing me with pain strong enough to make me want to kill anyone who looks at me the wrong way?  I understand that you are necessary, and back in the day you had to start torturing girls at age 12, but times have changed.  It would be much appreciated if you could learn to wait till we’re about 22, when we actually want to use you for your intended purpose.  There’s not much point to prepping a 17 year old to have a baby when that’s so socially taboo that it can reduce a person to drugs and depression. You make my pants too tight, my lower back hurt like hell, and my skin blotchy and gross.  And the worst part is that I have no method of retaliation: if I take medicine, you come back with a vengeance when it wears off.  If I exercise, you have spaz attacks in my abdomen.  No amount of heating pads or hot showers can sedate you, and you steal precious hours of sleep that are difficult to come by as it is.  You make me eat 5 pounds of extra food a day and then decide to punish me with more cramps.  You make me late for class because the line in the bathroom takes fucking forever.  You leave embarrassing stains on my clothes if I ignore you for even a moment.  You’re so clingy, I never have a moment’s peace when you’re around.  I have long since given up on trying to arrange a truce–but all I ask for is a tiny bit of mercy.   Let me sleep tonight?  Thanks.


Written by Danielle Keeler

August 28, 2011 at 5:00 pm

Blogging isn’t my strongpoint…

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I don’t know how good my blogging is–it’s probably just mediocre.  And honestly, my stories are much better.  I’m not claiming to be the next Stephen King, J.K Rowling, J.R.R Tolkien or anything like that, but the fact is, I’m much better at writing stories than blog posts.  The problem is, almost all of my stories are a minimum of 50 pages when I finish them, and that’s just too long to post on a website like this.  I’m too young to be seriously considered by publishers, so right now, my stories are just for my own sake–my own release, my own passion, my own, uncensored thoughts.  To me, they’re more personal than a diary, but I still want people to see them, because I want to know how they are received.  I want to know if people are actually interested in my genre (typically dealing with Science Fiction, paranormal, or action stories), or if I’m better off sticking with my own love for writing and keeping it to myself.  I write a few poems, but those are even more personal, and I’m not willing to post many of those on the internet.

So, dear followers, I don’t really know what I’m hoping to accomplish through this post.  I was simply thinking about this, and decided to post a little blurb about it ’cause I’m currently experiencing writer’s block and extremely bored.  So thank you for reading, and, as always, please leave a comment!

Written by Danielle Keeler

August 25, 2011 at 7:09 pm

Tumblr is Free Porn/More Blogconfessoins

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So supposedly, it is illegal for anyone under 18 to visit a pornography website.  Does that include Tumblr?  Because, as anyone who has an active Tumblr blog will tell you,  there are more porn shots compiled on that site than I have ever seen.  One particular blog I follow–while not actually dedicated to porn–posts at least 10 new pictures every day.  I keep following her only because it blows my mind at some of the things these people can do…but that’s another story.  If porn is illegal to everyone under 18, every high school student on Tumblr is currently breaking the law.

I like the idea of Tumblr.  It’s nice to have a constant-stream blog, one that allows you to post lengthier things than Twitter, a bigger variety of things than Facebook, but doesn’t characterize itself by extremely lengthy posts like other blog sites.  Tumblr allows you to post literally ANYTHING that comes to your mind (so long as it is not a threat to national security), and while in theory this is good, we have all heard about what unrestricted web diarrhea can lead to…again, that’s another story.

Back to my original point: how is Tumblr not considered illegal porn?  I mean, I’m definitely not saying I want anyone under the age of 18 to be banned from Tumblr (or perhaps they already are…I don’t know what the age minimum is for it), but it just doesn’t quite make sense to me.  But I’m not complaining.  Not a bit.

While I’m here, I was thinking I would post a few more Blogconfessions from one of my favorite Tumblr pages (www.blogconfessions.tumblr.com).  For those who have not read my earlier article about these confessions, Blogconfessions is an anonymous site where you can post your most secret confessions.  It can help a person just to get the words out, and I highly recommend that if you are on Tumblr, you follow them.  The first few confessions hit home with my previous article about confidence, so please,  ladies (and gentlemen): you’re beautiful just the way you are.

10384.) I feel fat and I want to be skinny; skinny so I can fit into a size 8. I mean I’m only 13, I should be allowed to fit into a size 8, but no, sometimes I can’t even fit a size 10. But I can’t lose weight because my mum was anorexic and she said that it was horrible and her parents hated it, and I can’t put her through that. But I just want to be skinny.


10383.) I wonder if you would love me if I were thin.


10378.) My dream is to run away and join the circus, if only my family didn’t expect more from me.


10377.) Everything comes back to how I have this fear that everyone I love is going to leave me. It’s why I’m so anxious and irrational.


10370.) I’m the biggest attention whore I know. Now I know why everyone calls me a slut. Even if it is just a “joke.”


10367.) Whenever I’m upset or scared, my suicide flashes before my eyes. Knowing I can always kill myself if it becomes too much is the only thing that keeps me sane.


10365.) My dream career is to be a pirate. Booze, gold, danger, and girls. That’s the shit right there.


10350.) At my age, girls are obsessing over boys and “falling in love.” I’m scared I’ll never find someone I feel that passionately about.


10348.) There are confessions from me about falling in love with girls and sleeping with boys who already have girlfriends and smoking pot and I want people to see them. I want people to know that even angels can fall. I want people to know that they aren’t alone.


10337.) Last month I got diagnosed with depression. My psychologist called my parents. My parents think I’m lying.


10336.) I want to be skinny. All of my friends are perfect overachievers who succeed at everything and have no pinchable fat on them. I want to be skinny. I have tried, but I just don’t have the self control. Maybe I should try harder.


10333.) I think I’ve finally learned to love my body.


10325.) I’m bulimic.


10324.) Yesterday, I wanted to pull the trigger.


10323.) I feel hungry, and I hate it. I hate having to eat. I hate my body. I hate my lack of willpower. I hate everything.


10292.) And you, sir, are very attractive. Therefore, I will stare at you.

Figured I’d end on a funny confession, what with all the sad ones above.  If anyone feels this way, please realize something: there are people who loves you, and you are NEVER alone.

I do not own rights to any of these confessions.  They are anonymous, and to see the original posts, please go to http://www.blogconfessions.tumblr.com.  All confessions posted here were posted on the internet prior to my re-posting them.

Written by Danielle Keeler

August 24, 2011 at 5:21 pm

Be confident

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I cannot stress this point enough.  It drives me insane to see girls who are so horribly self-conscious, and they think it makes them appealing.  It’s not cute to see someone who has so little respect for their self that it’s obvious to the rest of the world.  It’s annoying to hear “I’m fat” over and over from a girl who weighs 90 pounds soaking wet.  However, this is not limited to girls–it’s guys too.

I have a guy friend who has zero self-esteem.  He’s self conscious about his stomach, his acne scars (which I’ve seen, and they’re really not that bad), his hair, his skin, everything.  That kind of vanity is so incredibly unattractive, and completely turned me off when I first met him, even though he’s a very good looking guy.  The problem is, as soon as I met him, I could see that he had no confidence, and in my mind, it made him less attractive.

I don’t mean to sound insensitive about this.  Until I was about sixteen, I had horrible self-esteem.  I know how much it can hurt. It sucks.  But looking back on how I acted, I was one of those annoying girls.  Once I found my confidence, I was prettier, and other people noticed.  My friend Lauren came up to me one day, about two years ago, and said this:  “I don’t know what changed about you, but you’ve been so pretty lately.  I don’t think anything has physically changed–I’m just noticing it more.”  This was within two months of me realizing how pretty I am.  It’s not arrogant to realize you’re beautiful.  Rather, it’s arrogant to think that because you are beautiful, you are better than others.  Everyone, provided they take care of themselves, is beautiful.  Most of the world just doesn’t realize it.

It is not just outer beauty that people cannot see in themselves.  Many people have doubts about who they are, and whether they are worthy of being noticed.  The fact of the matter is, most people who are deemed “annoying” “stupid” or anything else, its because their behavior is fueled by low self-esteem.  Girls who are labeled “whores” typically act the way they do because they have no respect for themselves.  I’m not saying being confident makes your life easy, but it eliminates a large amount of problems before they begin.

I could not date a man who is not confident in himself.  My boyfriend is very similar to me in that he loves himself for who he is, and he knows he deserves respect.  This was what first drew me to him; I could see that while he was confident, he knew that he was still just a person, and no better than anyone else.  I could see that he genuinely cared about everyone, and that he wanted everyone to be as happy as he was.  He is not afraid to stand up for himself or anyone else, and I love that about him.

In conclusion, realize this: you are beautiful, inside and out.  I know it sounds redundant, but it really is true.  And if you ever feel like no one loves you, please email me.  I love you without even knowing you, and so do so many others–let us be here for you.

Written by Danielle Keeler

August 21, 2011 at 1:04 pm

Depressed? Not sure.

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First, I’d like to take a moment to appreciate how fucking sexy Ian Somerhalder is.  For those of you who do not know, he is one of the main stars of The Vampire Diaries on the CW.  Now, before you laugh and discount this as a remake of Twilight, let me say this:  The Vampire Diaries?  SO MUCH BETTER.  It actually has some plot to it, something besides a vampire fighting the desire to suck his human girlfriend’s blood.  Also, before you watch the TV series, I would recommend reading the books.  They are also amazing, and completely, ENTIRELY different than the TV series.  The only similarities between the books and the TV series are the names.  That’s it.  I just had to get that one out, I’ve been watching old episodes lately and I simply had to share my enjoyment.

Anyway, on to other things.

My life is usually pretty darn okay.  Pretty calm, quiet, occasional bumps but nothing too serious.  So I have a question: why am I always so depressed?

I don’t think I’m clinically depressed…or if I am, it’s not severe.  When I’m busy, I’m fine.  So long as I have something to keep me occupied, I don’t get sad.  This is the reason my room is always spotless, my homework always done and checked with a fine-tooth comb, the reason I run, and also the reason I learned to play piano.  The moment I sit down and stop moving, I feel the depression start to creep up on me.  It’s a slow process; I start feeling it when I get in the shower, and by the time I go to bed it’s hit with full force.  I don’t have anyone I trust enough to call, so I either endure it until I fall asleep, or I take a dose of cough syrup to aid in the process (I don’t do that very often, I know it’s horrible for me).  But I want to know where this sudden depression comes from.  There’s nothing wrong with my life that would cause it, yet it’s there.  I don’t understand.

It started when I was about fourteen.  I was at a new school, and my self-esteem was worse than horrible.  Since then, my confidence has improved to a healthy level–I’m confident, but not arrogant.  I like that my hips have curves and that my hair is wild.  I like that even though my eyelashes are blonde, they’re long and full.  And I love the fact that no matter what, I know who I am and what I stand for.  But I still feel depressed and alone every night.

I have friends.  I have a boyfriend, and our relationship is wonderful.  My parents are not divorced and I don’t have any major conflict with anyone at my school.  The biggest issue I am conscious of is the fact that I have a difficult time trusting people.  I don’t know why that is–there’s no sob story in my life to back it up.  It takes a lot for a person to earn my trust, and only one person in my life has managed it.

So in writing this article, I was hoping to discover something within my brain that would tell me why I was so depressed.  But…I didn’t.

Written by Danielle Keeler

August 20, 2011 at 11:22 pm

Weirdest dream of my life

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Two nights ago, I had one of the most bizarre dreams in my memory.  I woke up at three in the morning and immediately turned on my computer, typed out the entire dream in vivid detail, and it filled more than seven pages.  Now, rather than boring you with the entire long, detailed version, I am going to summarize it:

The first scene involved me sitting on an armchair in the living room of my old house.  I was sitting with a book (what book it was, I can’t remember), and one of the other men in the room was standing at the window.  On the couch, there was one man and one woman, whose names I knew to be Gabriel and Astrid.  Those names are courtesy of the book Blood and Chocolate, which I read most recently when I was fourteen.  The man at the window told us that he thought he saw a snack waiting outside (again, this dream is random, and I have no clue where half of this stuff comes from).  I looked out and saw the back of a man in a black leather jacket, unscrewing our garage keypad in a very obvious attempt to break in.  Astrid’s teeth grew longer and the man at the window’s eyes started turning to yellow–oh, I should probably mention that for whatever reason, we were werewolves.

Anyway, I knew that they were going to…attack him?  I don’t know how to phrase it.  Something bad would happen.  So I asked if I could go outside first.  My excuse was that I wanted to give him a few good scares before the others got to him, but in reality (well, dream reality), I grabbed his jacket and pulled him around the corner, whispering to him “if you value your life, do not go in that house.”

Now, there’s a small chunk of the dream I don’t remember, but at the next scene, I knew had done something that made me a traitor to the pack.  I grabbed the arm of the man and we ran, jumping into a river because for some reason, the other wolves hated to get wet.  They ran downriver, to wait for us at the storm drain, and we got out of the water and ran the other direction.  We had just gotten to the end of the street I used to live on when headlights flashed, and we rolled behind a cluster of trees.  Gabriel was driving, and they stopped in the car to wait for us to come out.  They didn’t know exactly where we were, but they weren’t leaving until they found us.  They stayed all night, and during the night, the man and I spoke sign language (yes, we knew sign language.  No, I don’t know why).  I learned his name was Derek, and in the morning, Gabriel found us.  The first thing he did was pin me to the tree by my throat, but at this point he hadn’t found Derek yet.  He asked me where Derek was.  I told him I didn’t know, that I had lost him at the river.  He saw through it and punched me in the stomach.  So of course, Derek came out from his spot.

For some reason, this made me beyond angry.  I had been trying my hardest to make sure Derek lived, and he threw it all away.  But there was something about Derek that made Gabriel nervous, something that went through his calloused exterior.  What it was, I don’t know.  That was when I woke up.


Now, someone tell me, where does my brain come up with these things?  I haven’t read werewolf books in years, I haven’t been to my old neighborhood since I was eleven, and I’ve never seen a robbery or met anyone named Derek.  I have absolutely no clue what was going through my head, and that makes me a bit nervous.  Any psychologists out there wanna help me out?  I’d really like to know what triggered this.

Written by Danielle Keeler

August 18, 2011 at 7:57 pm

I apologize dearly for the lack of posts

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So sorry to have been MIA the past week, I have just started my senior year of high school and it’s been chaotic.  For a while posts may slow down or stop entirely, and I apologize dearly to the whopping 6 followers of mine.  I’ll try to get back into the pattern as soon as I can, and until then, sorry guys.

Written by Danielle Keeler

August 18, 2011 at 3:56 pm