Hi.

My real name is a mix of Irish and Slovak. My middle name is perfectly Americanized. Therefore, I feel that the title of my real name is perfectly American. The identity of my true self.

I am a writer. I overcompensate and overthink about what to write. In here, I shall just be me, Chloe Mooney, a dizzied person who just wants to reclaim her real name. I've decided that when I feel like I am back to myself, I will reveal my real name as a gift, so I can see the journey I have been through to get there. Oh, there. I can't wait.

Is this pathetic?? If you googled my real name, this link would appear. My boyfriend and friends would read it. They would mock, question, judge. I feel faint, my mind is spinning. I don't know if it was my double shot coffee, or the fact that I have to be honest with myself. Who I turned into and who I want to face away from.

I am bipolar. I am depressed. I do not feel the need to explain this to you. Danny, Dad and Molly were always depressed. I always saw them as bad. They struggled more than others. They were bad. Molly was anorexic by the time she was 13. She lost her virginity at 15.

Danny was a mecca of bad. He did drugs, he had sex, he hurt Meghan, made Mom cry, threw stuff at Molly that broke her skin and made her get stiches. Such anger. So lost. He reminded everyone of Dad: the Cheater. But that's the thing. Danny wasn't a cheater. Not least to my knowledge. He fell in love with a girl in his early 20s who rejected him. He never recovered. He never recovered from Mom and Dad's divorce in the mid-90s. He had friends who had been in and out of jail, who cussed, who wore t-shirts of naked girls. They went clubbing. They drank. They were bad.

Danny died in June 2005. He overdosed on his prescription medication, the drugs he was addicted to. Xanax, morphine, codine. You name it. He once asked me for my wisdom teeth medication.

I feel like Danny is the puzzle to my depression and "bipolar" disorder. I question life after death. I grew up in a rigorous Catholic family. And just as I was convinced that there is nothing after being so devoted to Catholism, I thought... You just die, that's it. Danny died. I was given Angel Cards from my Dad (we rekindled our relationship), I believed them. I thought about how ridiculously wrong heaven and hell were. I thought about energy and quantum physics in relation to spirituality.

Maybe I should explain who I was before I was labeled depressed and bipolar. I was stubborn, I was righteous, I could give a fuck what people thought of me, I was Catholic, I was into Drama, I was into Latin, I was into Anime, I webdesigned, I was into being a girl and having crushes. I was Irish and nothing else. Don't even call me Slovak. I believed in no sex before marriage, no drugs whatsoever, no cheating because it tore my family apart, no drinking because it's stupid. I had a solid group of insecure friends from middle school. I went to their high school because I missed them.

They dissolved. Ildiko had a bad boyfriend who Michelle and I didn't approve of, and instead of being real friends, we all broke apart. Michelle and I were best friends, but because I didn't want her boyfriend in my life just yet, she secluded her life from mine. When Danny died, Ildiko really came through. We talk on and off. There's no pretentiousness between us. There's honesty, and I call Ildiko a friend. Michelle's behavior, I can't face. It really hurt my feelings. Is this apart of growing up? After Danny died, she left away, away, away and got married, married, married. She didn't even invite me to the wedding. I guess I really wasn't a good friend. But I shouldn't pity myself, because I know I was. I did like Victor. Michelle just shut down on me and didn't communicate.


Christopher is truly the bestest friend I've ever had. Nothing is fake. He is Chris, no apologies. And he loves me. I wonder why he loves me. I want to know so bad. I hurt him more than I have ever hurt anyone in my life. Why did I do it? Was it a test to see how much he loved me? It just made me hate myself more. And everyone in my life and his question us to the nth extreme. Why did I do this? I shouldn't care about the outside, but I do. I don't want to care.

Chris and I went to middle school together. He had a speech trouble, just like me. I remember when I overheard Mrs. Brown saying that Chris was going to be late on Wednesdays because he went to Speech Therapy. I related. It was a secret with me; not with him. Then I had a crush on Chris in 7th grade. We would attend the Seton High School football games. I remember our group bumping into his group and we would walk around scared to talk, but showing off.

My mom made me write an essay on why I deserved to attend a public school and leave my private one for sophomore year. After she read the essay and agreed, I was fantasizing about the first day of school at McClintock. Chris went there. I would run up to him and hug him and we'd be good ole chums. That happened, I made the fantasy come true, but Chris was so embarrassed that I had decided to hug him. It's like he created this person for himself at McClintock in comparison to measly Mt. Carmel. Chris McGinley: don't fuck with me. It made me want to crush that image. That was the rest of high school basically. Chris and I loving each other through crushing each other. 311 concerts, Glassjaw concerts, In N'Out, hanging out at my house, fireworks at Fiesta Mall, movies at AMC, walking through my neighborhood, driving in his Dad's truck listening to music. Music always brought us together.

Now let me introduce you to the current Chloe.

I have friends, good friends, but they're scattered. Bess, my college roommate, in Boulder; Adriann, my study abroad roommate, in New York City; Leanna, through extension of Adriann, between LA and Phoenix; Molly, my younger sister, in Tucson; Meg, my older sister, in Phoenix, but a mommy and high power attorney who barely has time for me. We all never talk on the phone and we speak through random texts and e-mails. With exception of Molly, Meghan and Leanna.

This current Chloe misses her solid circle of friends. She gets lonely and bored.

I smoke a lot of weed when I have nothing to do. I usually have nothing to do everyday. My mom came into my room last night, smelled the weed and said, "Don't be a pothead." What's the definition of a pothead? I don't let it control my life. I have goals: I am a Master's student at ASU persuing my degree in Language and Literacy. I work as Associate Editor and Publisher at a community newspaper in Phoenix. I think I am doing well on the professional front, but I know I can do a lot better. For instance, I'm supposed to be at work right now, but because there is seriously NOTHING to do, I am at a coffee shop called e-Joy blogging about how I want to become a better person.

My therapist, Rob, says it's good that I came in and I know what I want to do about it.

This new Chloe has gone through an emotionally and physically abusive relationship with her ex-boyfriend and first boyfriend, Sean. It was Sean who got Chloe to smoke a lot of weed. But blame can't be placed on others.

How do I say this besides just saying it? I cheated on Chris. I cried afterwards pretty hard, while Sean fell asleep. He woke up, turned to my crying and thought he understood. But of course he didn't. I don't know why I go back and forth between Sean and Chris. Sean and I don't have many memorable moments that I cherish. We really don't. It was just cheap fun. I swear. It was a hostile, jealous, young relationship that tried to be real. Sean asked, "Am I a habit?" And I, of course, answered no. But deep down, I really think he is.

When talking to my mom about this situation, she said that some relationships are addictive. I thought, Well, I smoke a lot of pot, Chris has never even smoked a cigarette, What if? What if Sean and I got back together? God, how stupid am I?

This new Chloe is bad. She doesn't even like her friend, Leanna. Leanna listens to bad music that she thinks is good, smokes a lot of pot, dates online, is overly judgemental and is very insecure. I don't want to make friends like that. But, am I a horrible person for thinking, or even saying this?? I feel like Leanna is there. I use her friendship because I need a friend. So, I guess I'm the pathetic one.

So, I've cheated on my best friend whom I love, I smoke a lot of pot, I've lost my solid group of friends, my morals have been thrown out the door. Why does Chris love me? I don't even like myself.

New morals:

• I believe that everything is connected in somehow, someway -- and this is God. God, not in a humanistic sense, but God in an interwoven sense. What happens when we die? We've lived. Our actions, our voice, our words have affected future generations. Deal with that. Come to terms with that and stop being so iffy. We DON'T know what happens when we die. Most religions and beliefs are based out of fear. Don't base your life, your identity out of fear.
• Honesty. Be honest with yourself first. Give yourself time to be honest. Cheating isn't even allowed in your life's vocabulary. Cheating destroyed your family and in extension murdered your brother. Why would you do that to someone you love? Sydney thinks that you don't love Chris because of this action.
• Prove people wrong. Be the Macedonian. Don't give a fuck about what others think.
• Be passionate about life. If you're going to do it, do it right.
• Medication is there, but don't rely on it. Accept the facts of what others tell you. Take it for awhile until you feel stable.
• Stop smoking pot. Seriously. What good does it do? Think about it.

I think I am written out. I will now go to Zia and purchase some music. Music to bring me back. Say Anything, MIA, Lalalalallalalaaaaaaaa.