Welcome to my dark side

Unfortunately I do not have cookies. I actually have this prepetutal feeling I’m on the verge of exiling the pit of my stomach. 

Hi my name is Tallahasee and I’m a tragedy addict. I’m not even really sure myelf what that means, but I feel as we continue down this road together that may make more sense soon. 

Also for all legality purposes the names of the individuals involved in this tragic love story have been changed to protect their identity. 

I should also be sure to add a parental advisory warning. I like to use a variety of colorful words to describe my dark reality so this blog is for mature audiences only, this is your courtesy warning.

I own no rights to any of the music reviewed in this blog. Please make sure to support your local music scene. Only you can prevent shitty music.



I almost cried… Almost. It’s been way to long since my last confession. Please forgive me for I have sinned.  I got caught up with moving from one hood to another hood, then back to the first hood 6 weeks later after the shit was literally about to hit the fan. In which time asshat that went to CA came back, I was stupid and believed his vile, I ended up in Jail for the night, he ended up in jail for 3 months, that wasn’t enough it took hair pulling, a black eye, and pure hatred-now he is on my on the top of my death list right under my very first love. It’s ironic how life works.

On the positive side my black eye healed. I went to a Cannibal Corpse show a few days after it happened and used the mosh pit as the excuse. Fuck my life.

I’ve been single since the beginning of December, I’ve been on temp lay off from work since that time as well. Isn’t it great how life works! Get rid of one problem and another one pops up. I hated the job anyway but being broke sucks. Which is why I’m going back to school for business.

For the first time in a long long time I am in a good place. I’m enroll in school, haven’t smoked a cigarette in a week, I’ve been clean and sober for a good while, I cut out sugar and carbs; it’s time to do me and stop living for other people.







Just breathe

Here we are again, anxiety and myself have a sick twisted relationship.

Sometimes I can control it, lately I’ve been struggling. 

Heart beating like I’ve been hiking a mountain, hands sweaty and trembling, head spinning with thoughts and memories.

I’m a prisoner held captive inside my own head.

Just breath… it doesn’t fucking help, makes me want to puke.

I hate that my body, my brain, my soul, they are all screaming different commands and I don’t know how to react.

Death isn’t the answer life is but how to do live when you don’t know how.

I will live, I will survive, I will learn how to control this demon.

Everyday that passes is another step forward. 

I haven’t sleeped a full night since you’ve been gone

I have a really comfy California King. I’ve always been a rough sleeper, I can’t stay still, always tossing and turning. For the past two weeks I haven’t been able to get comfortable. Every morning around 5 I’m up, heart beating like a race horse, sweat pouring from my hair line down my face, and the uncontrollable urge to puke. My heart burns like it has never before.

I should turn my phone off before I go to bed. But I’ll miss his call. I don’t know why I care. He didn’t care when he left me here, he couldn’t even come home from work to tell me his life changing decision. He just left; with none of his clothes, none of what little he had left to his name. 

He left me with the California King we bought 3 years ago together, he left me to deal with the bails bondsman from when he ran from the police in my car back in early June, he left me with more questions than answers. 

Mike is a wild spirt, a lost soul, a fucked up individual; but he was mine. When Danny moved me up to the wrong side of the tracks 5 years ago Mike was there to help me move in. Mike would come over and I thought of him as one of Dicks friends. That young crazy fucker that drank way too much, drove way to wild, and knew too many people who loved drugs.

There was something about you tho, you saw the end of Danny and I. You were there that night he treated me like a dog in front of company, and you were there after my mom finally heard enough of his posin and slap the shit of out him. 

You knew what you were getting into. You were sniffing around for weeks before you made your move. You talked to my sister, she told you my head was fucked up, that I needed time to get over Danny. You didn’t listen. You should have listened to her.

I was living next door to my parents, I had been separated from them for so long while I stayed in the city. The company I kept down there was no good. Every day life with Danny was unbearable, I keep haivng flashbacks and my brain is shaking it’s own head in desperation to not open these wounds… 

Danny was intimidating. He was louder than me, taller than me, bigger than me, and on way more drugs than I. Combine that with Alcohol and countless mental disorders and Danny was a walking time bomb. 

I couldnt ever get wasted drunk, not because of tollerence or personal choice. But because Danny got stupid wasted, he never could keep a license, or a car. I had to make sure I could drive us home, not only to watch out for the assholes on the road, but I had to keep an eye on the one in my passenger seat. 

Drinking and driving is a trigger for me, before I got a car and my license Danny was my primary mode of transportation. He had a 92 Iroc Camaro with a 350 in it, no cat, straight pipes. He got the car before his license. It needed work so after each alteration he would invite me to his house to listen to her purr, or see what new part he had installed. 

Danny lived on the good side of the tracks. He actually lived in the next neighborhood over from me, before the age of 16 we rode the bus together for years. There was a trail in the back of my hood that cut into his. 

It was almost ready, he loved this stupid car. It was white when he bought it but we sanded it down in his yard and he spray painted it gun metal. The rims were already black and he tinted the windows even blacker. It was a beast and sounded like the cars my dad would take us to watch at the racetrack. 

It turned me on, and my love affair with cars started to bloom. The day he got his license I heard him way before I saw him. We lived in a cul-de-sac and the back yard ran along the main road. I was in our pool and remember knowing the second I heard screetching tires Danny was coming for me. Through the fence I saw a blur of dark grey. Red and I hopped out the pool, ran through the house all wet, mom was yelling at us to not dirty up her clean floors and she was questioning what the hell was going on out front.

He was doing doughnuts in the cul-de-sac. Thick smoke filled the air, all you could hear was that engine screaming- I swear it was saying THE BEAST HAS BEEN UNLEASHED 

This made me feel good, Red had been the one that got all the attention from boys primarily. This was my turn. I had Danny, a 6’4, 250lb, green eyed, blonde haired, smooth talking, Camaro driving fuck face here to pick us up. I got into a lot of cars with Red. We went a lot of stupid places with stupid people, Danny was probably the stupidest decision we ever made.

Danny would drive me to and from high school, even though he ended up getting kicked out for fighting middle of sophmore year and was going to the alterative school an hour away, he still made sure when I walked out of school he was there waiting for me. Looking back I don’t know if it was really for me or to impress all our “friends” still in school. 

Red never went to high school, she had issues deeper than mine. Maybe one day it’ll come back to me, but she never liked Danny she tolerated him. He used to say it was because she was a whore and he didn’t want to fuck her so she was jelous of me. Fuck him I have heard that same line as few too many times now, there is more to it. 

Red new Danny before me. His Aunt lived next door to her so he would go over and spend the weekends. Red had a little sister Tina who was gearing up to be a wild one like us. Early on I heard her talk about having a crush on him. I’m sure there is a lot I don’t know. 

I don’t know why I have this insatiable desire to always know every little detail of everything. This has been a problem for a long time, I think people are not who they say they are and their intentions are not what they claim. That people are always telling me what I want to hear and doing the opposite when I’m not around.

I used to fuck Mike’s head all up with accusations. I’m sure he wasn’t a saint but I’m certain I made a lot up in my head.

Half the time Danny wouldn’t even want to leave where we had been at partying. He would pitch a fit like a 5 year old and either start a fight and take off into the woods, lock himself in a room and refuse to come out till I agree to some outrageous negotiation, or plant his ass in a lawn chair with a karaoke machine and bottle of Jack and tune out the world while he talked to himself and kept partying alone. I never knew what to do, it was embarrassing. It usually happened when we were at his childhood best friend Brantleys house.

They were redneck, him and his wife had a few young kids, lived in the country on a few acres, kept 4 wheelers on hand, had guns for days, and threw some badass bonfire parties. I really liked his wife, we experienced a lot together both with our relationship issues and the company we kept. 

Brantleys dad rode a Harley, he always had a leather vest on, he had long hair and a big beard. He drank like a fish but his eyes were always wide open. He didn’t raise Brantley and his siblings. He was around but usually at a biker bar, or in and out of jail. Brantleys grandparents took care of them, they were loaded. Everyone knew he was up to no good, but that didn’t stop Brantley and Danny from looking up to him, from helping him with his dirty work.

Drugs were always around, pot, pain pills, Xanax, cocaine, extasty, heroin, and meth. Back then I didn’t smoke pot, it made me paranoid so I didnt see the attraction. Cocaine was ok, but the come down sucked. Xanax made me feel drunk and if my head was spinning I couldn’t effectively watch my 6, pain pills though-they made me feel numb. I could escape my thoughts of despair and nothingless when I got high. I could clean the entire house, cook dinner, and fuck for hours. It was great!

I’ve been sitting her writing this for the past 3.5 hours with multiple distractions. Shit is probaly spelled all kinds of wrong, I’m all over the place with thoughts, feelings, and memories. Mike missed his court date here and they want a bounty Hunter to go find him, I had a text from the bails bondsman when I woke back up at 9 looking for him. Mike never called me back after the cops rolled up on him last night. I could hear him telling them it was a company vehicle, and to let him explain. He said he would call me right  back. When I woke up at 5:55am I texted him to ask if he was ok. There is a 3 hour time difference so I figured he was sleeping. He isn’t talking to his mom so I keep her updated so she won’t worry. I let her know about the bails bondman and that I didn’t know if he was safe. He texted me at 3pm yesterday his time and he said he was alive, just got off work and was going to learn how to surf. He called me at 6pm and was at bar, we talked for an hour, it felt wrong- but he was so cheerful it made my heart stop hurting briefly. I love it when he talks to me, he has horrible communication skills and I’ve watched him struggle with expressing himself for years. He was drinking, I knew where it would lead but hoped new surroundings and a fresh start would ward off bad behavior. 830pm he calls me, it’s loud he wants my opinion on what song he should Karaoke to. Kid had never Karaoked before, he has social anxiety so I encouraged it, told him to have fun and record it for me. We agreed on Marilyn Mansons beautiful people for his debut. I never got a recording of his rendition. I got a call around 1am here so 10pm acorss the country. I no longer heard bad singing and people cheering in the background, rather he was on a tangent about whopping some skater kids ass. Rambling about he was going to look for him, that the kid had taken a picture of Mike and he felt disrespected. I’ve been here a thousand times before- baby just calm down, everything is ok, just take a deep breath, no one is worth getting this upset over- especially a stanger, just walk away and dont let it bother you. He was miles away, I couldnt look into his eyes and bring him back to reality. Next thing he said was the cops just pulled up, my heart skipped a beat, he started hollering it was a company work truck, I didn’t hear who he was talking to but he started saying something in Spanish to them and told me he would call me back. My last words were be smart. His mom just got a VM from a bails bondsman over there- he is in jail for a DUI. So much for a fresh start Mike…

I wasnt even looking for you, I was looking for drugs. Little did I know you would eventually become my drug.

Ghosts of days gone by

Red had a Rob Zombie CD, and a Dragula poster on her wall… Her dad had a loud, beat up, fast, late 70s Firebird he would drive us around town in. She would bring her CD book and her Newports everwhere we went. We would listen to those CDs over and over, there was always music playing.  I swear it’s never left my side. 

Going back to that once new world with all it’s heatache, unanswered questions, and genuinely badass awesome memories gets easier each time I go. I went to high school there, loved there, experienced a lot of first times there.  A lot of my family is still there so I’ll never be able to hide from my past, but I don’t feel a connection there anymore. 

As I sat on my sister’s porch Sunday morning with my coffee I said to myself, I’ve been here before. Not here in the sense of state of mind, boohooing over a boy again-even though I kind of was. 

It was more of my sister’s property sits on a stretch of road that’s about 7 miles long, it connects to major highways on each side that lead out to the main highway where you have a pick of a few beaches or into the City.

Everyone on this particular road has a couple acres of land, some more some less. When you sit outside you can hear 4 wheelers, fireworks, gun shots, horses, turkeys, country music, screeching tires. You can do what ever the hell you want, don’t have to worry about traffic passing your house or neighbors peaking in your windows. It’s what one may consider living in the country. 

Danny had a best friend that owned property on this same stretch of road. There are two ways in now, but I only remember the first way. Danny told me once I turned off the highway go up for about 7 minutes and look for the blue relflectors on the right pointing to the left, and that’s where I needed to turn. To go down 5 minutes or so and look for the long line of hedges on the left.

Its extremely dark out here in the swamp, the big leafy oak trees cover the road and block out the moon light. The air is moist; almost sticky and filled with the sound of tree frogs and crickets. The heat lightning helps illuminate my way every so often. It takes my eyes a while to adjust but vaguely I see the hedges and the small entrance to the dirt road in. There is a huge Magnolia tree in the middle of the yard with a zip line attached, set up across the yard going into the woods. Dan’s friend was always a go getter and liked his toys, we all went to school together, were once apart of a bigger, closer group of friends that shared a lot, but on this particular day it was just us three and we weren’t 16 anymore we were in our early 20s. 

The house was old, it looked like dudes lived there, Dannys friend was always a perpetual bachelor. Rude, selfish, a real asshole, but he been around for the last 10 years, we all knew each other’s parents, started middle school together, saved each other’s lives a few times. 

There is a pile of Budwiser cans over there, an ashtray overflowing with Newport and Camel butts over here. I hear a radio playing, it’s beachy, a little too country and not enough rock and roll for my taste. 

We took shelter in his screen porch while a good ole southern midnight thunderstorm started barraling on through. Every time the lightning hits I see the zip line in the back yard, and the entrance to the woods. There is a shed to the right, I parked over there. Why can’t I remember what car I was driving, I’ve had so fucking many that I tend to associate them with different time periods of my life. 

What are they talking about, why am I here. This isn’t the only time I’ll visit this place and Danny will end up living there after I make my escape from this city.  

He shows me around, I probably had to use the bathroom, I always have to pee. I remember thinking that’s s really bright shade of blue to have in your living room. There is a table with more beer cans, an ash tray, and blunt wrappers. 

These two potheads put me through hell over those 10 or so years with drugs; between all the times individually and collectively they’ve been busted, the family and friends that ended up in and out of jail, countless number of friends who became addicts, and a few close homeboys that lost their lives, the drug game was a big part of my life at an early age. 

So as I sit on that very same road, near feet possibly from where I once sat before I can’t remember that life. It’s like when you hit the fast forward option too many times and it speeds up so super fast, to where you can make out people and places but everything else is a blur. Danny and those friends we once shared are a blur to me now, the one I thought broke me forever, fucked me up so bad I would never love again, is a ghost I no longer check under the bed for. 

People come and go, buildings go up and come down, roads get expanded and new ones are built. When I was leaving Sunday the GPS took me on a journey back in time. Down a road I haven’t been down in at least 7 years, one where I have my last memory of Red. Her apartment across from the Rival high school, back when I was 17.

I can’t fastword and make Red a blur. She has been a ghost for a very long time, and she may have something to do with why I think I have anxiety. And this is where past and current collide. Danny was my first real love, I lost my viginity to him at 15, he gave me a promise ring on my 16th birthday, first car chase at 17, first apartment together at 21, and watched him get slapped by my momma in my first house at 26. It’s that 21-26 I’m having a hard time remembering.

I turned 27 single. In a new city, if that’s what you could even call it. Danny and his friend helped me make the few hour move up the road into the house next door to my parents and 2 of my 3 sisters. They’ve been up here for a few years. My little sister goes to college close by and they got a lot of 100 year old house for what they sold that new one, in that big city for. 

I’ve come up to visit off and on over the past few years and one of my younger sisters turned out to be a wild one like me and attracted the neighborhood degenerates before I could. I mentioned before there were a few of us. Let’s just say with ages spread out from 19-27 we were a wild bunch that liked to have fun. 

This is where I would meet Mike. He swears we met before, and I remember him from an earlier Christmas visit. He was quiet, and much younger, I didnt give him much attention. He has a good friend Dick, Dick lived next door to my parents for a few years in the beginning. Dick was good friends with my sister and even Danny when he made an appearance up here with me. I thought Dick was my friend, in the beginning. But he was always at Mike’s side. He was always there to save him, even if he was the one trying to kill him.

I wanted to save Mike from everyone and everything. When I looked into his beautiful blue eyes all I saw was pain and despair. Those eyes pulled me in like every other person I tired to save. He spoke to me without even having to use words. I can feel him, when hes close it’s like a magnetic pull that gets harder and harder to say no to. But he left two weeks ago, abruptly. Now all I feel is emptiness and black… And old familar feeling.

Reds about 15- turning 16 soon, and even though I was two years younger I didn’t look it. Red wore make up, show me I want to wear make up. Red wore shorts just short enough her butt cheecks would poke out of if she bent over just right. She ozzed come fuck me and I couldn’t compete. I couldn’t do my make up as good as her, I was 13 and had no ass but my tits were coming in and they were going to be gigantic. I felt akward, I am super tall and she is cute and short with a bubble butt. She had a pager, and guys liked to use her number! 

I rember feeling second best a lot with Red. Second best is a very hard thing for me, I want to be your everything. Danny made me feel second best, and now Mike. 


As I sit in the pool, in what I honestly don’t know is the right side of the tracks or not. The whole city is the wrong side of the tracks you might say. I take a sip of my sweet tea and think damn I’ve become one of them southerns. Working on my tan in the yard because I can’t afford to go to the tanning bed, we are going to the big city this weekend to hit up the beach, in the city that new house was. Back to a place where I started on the right side and somehow ended up deep over the dark side. It’s hard going back but each time it gets easier and easier. Memory’s fade, people become ghost, and life goes on. Maybe I’ll get some insight on what I think I’m looking for. Until then it’s the weekend before 4th of July- I’m turning my music up to drown out the sound of fireworks and the train that runs outback… Seriously… 


Why do I have anxiety? I want to say it’s always been my closest friend even though I never really understood where we were first introduced. 

It must have started back in grade school with butterflies in my stomach. When I was around 12 we moved from a place I never thought we would leave. A place full of family and familiaraity; to what seemed like a whole new world. It was the last year of elementary school, I had amazing friends and a sense of what it was like to be a happy kid. I can’t blame my parents for wanting to move to a new city, and maybe it was the age but trying to fit in where people made you feel like you didn’t at such a coming into your self age riled up those butterflies. 

I don’t remember much from that first year in our new world. I wasn’t alone, I have a few young sister’s and we have a lot of memories from that new house, in that new world, with all those southern people, full of yes ma’am, no sir, sweat tea, beaches, sunshine, gated communities, Friday night football, and judgement. 

It’s like when you aren’t from the south, especially when your a Yankee the southern can smell it. That indimidated me for a very long time. I talked different than everyone else, I looked different than everyone else, and I had different morale beliefs instilled in me by my parents. Church is a really big thing in the south, they’re are more church steeples than Win Dixies and Piggly Wiggly’s combined. My parents didn’t bring us to church, maybe on Christmas Eve once or twice back home but down in the south all my church visited were of my own free will and usually because I had spent night with a friend and part of the deal was I had to go to church Sunday morning. I have faith and believe in God but off of my own life experiences. 

This may be where the rebellion started to show through. I tried to fit in, I wanted to be one of those girls everyone wanted to sit with at lunch, you know the girls with the pretty hair, that get all the attention for being so beautiful. My perpetual resting bitch face and hatred for being transported to this humid ass hell hole must have ruined that for me. I never was Miss Popular, I didn’t sit at the cool table, and it hurt. The friends I did end up making we sort of in the same situation as me. They were from different states usually, they looked different, acted different, and looking back they may have been from broken homes, but I didn’t care who was I to judge.

 My parents may have been a little relaxed with the trust they extended to me during my upbringing. I was the oldest, the emo one, the first to experience life. Looking back I had this one friend from about 13 years old untill about 23 that honestly I don’t know how we didn’t end up on the back of a milk carton. She was two years older than me, when your 13 and your best friend gets to experience big milestones first like 16, 18, and 21 you get treated like your older and I liked it.

It was also around this time that my body started changing. Now this friend lets call her Red, she was a bad bitch to a 13 year old. She smoked Newports, wore a ton of make up, and always had boy drama. She was everything I was looking for. Now I lived on what you would call the good side of the tracks, even though there was no railroad tracks deffineing the determination from the two, Red lived on the wrong side of tracks which is where I’m going to stop for now. Join me next time as we explore the dark side…