To The Man Who Loves Me and My Chronic Illness

  1. Thank you for understanding my unpredicablilty: Thank you for understanding the fact that I have good days and bad days. Thank you for understanding that there are some days where I’m going to have the perfect amount of sleep and still wake up exhausted. I can’t thank you enough for those “15 minutes naps” here and there or when I just need to lay in bed all day and watch movies. I know there are some days that you’d rather be out at the mall or just going different places but I want you to know how much it means to me that you stay right next to me. 
  2. Thank you for not messing with my bad habits: You know that coffee, soda, and many other things are bad for anyone, especially someone with my condition but you never fault me if I want Starbucks coffee, a Pepsi, or anything else that I might crave. You understand more than anyone that there are some things I just cannot give up because they allow me to feel like a normal person. You encourage me to feel like I am that normal person in every way, even though I’m not. You don’t get on my case, nor expect me to stop doing the things that I love and enjoy. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that and you. 
  3. Thank you for accepting the shot I have to give myself 3 times a week: Thank you especially for not making me feel like some horrible person when I slip up and don’t take it like I should. However, when I do take it, thank you for being the first one to volunteer to go get the icy pack out of the fridge and warming it up in the microwave for me. Thank you for holding it on my side when I just want to focus on the pain. Thank you for making me laugh when I want to cry because I feel like apart of me is being taken away every time I have to give it to myself. You make dealing with my illness so much easier than it would be if you weren’t around. I just want you to know that you make everything about the situation better. 
  4. Thank you for never allowing me to give up: Of all the things you allow me to do without judgment, you never allow me to do this one thing. You refuse to let me throw myself a pity party or allow myself to feel less of a person because of my illness. You refuse to let me feel sorry for myself. You tell me all the time how strong I am and brave but you also remind me that my illness does not define me. You make me try new things and motivate me to have new outlooks. You give me a new perspective when I want to look at things so ugly. Thank you for always being in my corner; thank you for not giving up on me or allowing me to give up on myself. 
  5. I love you for helping me through Doctor visits: You know I hate going. You know that I hate having to get blood work done and fill out the same paper work over and over again. You know I cannot stand dealing with crappy nurses and sitting in a room for more than 30 minutes for my doctor to come in and talk about the same stuff with me or worse, bring up new stuff. Thank you for knowing my facial expressions and squeezing my hand when I look annoyed. Still, I can’t thank you enough for making every trip better. You make me smile when I want to be angry. You comfort me when I want to stare off into space and think up the most horrible news that they could possibly tell me. Thank you for the hugs, the kisses, the random and weird dancing. You just make those really hard days bearable and I love that about you. 
  6. Thank you for loving me: When we got together, neither of us knew that this would happen. We never prepared for a shot I’d have to take for the rest of my life because of an incurable disease. We didn’t plan for optic neuritis that would impair my vision for the longest time. We had no idea that there would be long nights with headaches and bright lights being so hard on me. I know when you imagined a life together, you probably didn’t think of all of this. I sure as hell didn’t. When I got the diagnosis though, you weren’t afraid. You knew that this would affect our lives in some ways. You knew there was(and that there will always be) the possibility of flare ups and that my body might one day again attack itself in some way but that didn’t scare you off. I know it’s not the easiest thing in the world to love someone who has all these problems but you take them on anyway. For that, I know that you must truly love me. It was at that moment that I knew you weren’t just saying it to say it. It was in the moment of my diagnosis, when you found out the gruesome truth of what our life together could be and you still stayed with me. On that day, I knew you could face the ugliest things and still be the one to find beauty. 

Thank you for loving me and my chronic disease baby. 


The Age Of Ignorance


You wanna know what’s awesome about being a writer?

I can see something, anything, and it can make me feel one emotion, just one and I want to write about how it makes me feel because I know that I can just write whatever comes to mind and it can hit me at any moment. I can have writers blocks for a month straight and then something hits me, something rubs me the wrong way or makes me think a way I never thought before and I have to write about it. I have to write about it not because I think anyone will read it or pay it much attention, but I have to write because it’s the only way I can organize my thoughts and put them in order, if I don’t…then stuff just stays with me. It will stay in my head for days and weeks and months and it will bug me until I put it in black ink.

You wanna know what sucks about being a writer?

The same damn thing.

Like tonight, I’m scrolling through Facebook and I see this hilarious postcops

Pretty funny right?

I laughed at this thing so hard because you know, it was just that funny or maybe I’m just really corny.

Anyway, I go to the comments, just looking through them and what do I see?

Dude 1: “in the usa, cop would have shot you out.”

Dude 2: “nah, he’s white.”

Dude 3: “If you’re white n not white trash, you’re privileged! Ignorance is to believe other wise.” 

These comments combined had 2,241 likes

2,241 people who think this way

What bugs me even more: I know there are more than just them who think like this.

It’s comical to me, not because they feel this way. It’s sad to me that they feel this way, but what is so funny to me about it is that in the age full of information, in this age full of technology, resources, the history classes that we’ve all taken up to now, none of those three men and the people that actually perceive the world that way seem to have learned anything.

I’m not saying that racism is not alive and well in the 21st century. I’m not saying that police brutality does not exist either. I’m not saying that Blacks, or Whites, or Gays, or Lesbians, or Latinos, or the Chinese, or the Japanese, or the Christians, or the Jews, or the Atheist have it easier than one group or the next.

What I am saying is that it is small minded to think that it is all aimed towards just one specific group of people.

I grew up living with my grandmother on a farm and I only saw my mom on the weekends because she was working. I had decent clothes, I went places, I had good birthdays, I had days where I was depressed, I had days where everything was okay but there was not a single day that I did not know what the struggle was.

For as long as I can remember I have been stressed out over things out of my control. I remember my mom being in jail. I remember allowing men to use my body because I didn’t have a dad to show me how a girl should be treated. I just wanted to feel loved and accepted. I remember worrying about the bills, and perhaps the reason I have such a strong fashion sense now is because I had to get creative with wearing the same things more than once. I didn’t know the inside of American Eagle, Aeropostale, or any “high end” store until I was like 14 and my mom was working a job where she could afford to buy my sisters and me “quality clothing.” I knew GoodWill and Wal-Mart clothes and that was pretty much it for a while.

I remember taking the city bus, taxi cabs, and even walking because my mom didn’t have a car for a long while.

I remember my mom moving from home to home for a while because on her own, she couldn’t afford to stay in once place for long so it almost felt like every time I went to stay with my mom on the weekends that we were in a new place with a new room but it was enough. I knew my mom was trying her best.

I remember cutting myself and having suicidal thoughts when she went to jail because I was like 11 at the time and I was going through the age where a girl needed her mom but mom could only make calls to me during the day and it was usually only one, around dinner time before school the next day.

I am the furthest thing from privileged but I have never gone without. I know the value of a dollar and the value of an education. I know that one needs book smarts and street smarts to be successful in this world, that one without the other is just pointless knowledge. I was taught to love all people, no matter their skin color or how they dressed or the way they talked, I only knew one thing: people are people. I never went without and hell yes, I had a wonderful childhood, I have a lot of great memories, but I have scars too and my scars aren’t worth any less or more than anyone else’s…they’re just my scars that have affected me in a way that I will never forget, they have altered my life in a way that I could never not remember. I never went without but I am far from privileged. I am white and proud, and I am far from white trash. I speak good English, I have refused to allow my circumstances to define my future, I want a good life for myself and I believe working hard without taking short cuts will get me there so long as I do what I NEED to do so that I can get to where I WANT to be.

So dude number 3: Please shut you arrogant mouth and get good statistics to back up your thought process before you go calling anyone privileged or white trash. People are just that, people. We’re human and we all make mistakes and we all have been through horrible battles and encountered awful obstacles but anyone, any person that wants to strive to be better and do better than where they are and what they came from does NOT allow their circumstances, their skin color, their religion, their past, or their present to define them. I am deeply sorry that you and the 24 others who actually liked your comment have allowed what they have gone through in life to prevent them from getting to where they wanted to be. My only hope is that one day you find happiness or at least something that makes you a little less bitter. Your perception of the world as a whole is incredibly sad. To call someone either “privileged” or “trash” as if any one is just one thing breaks my heart because nobody should ever be viewed that way. Nobody is just one thing, at least not to me.

Dude number 2: The “meme” or whatever you would like to call it is of a stick figure with “high eyes”(I suppose representing a stoner)

So please, tell me where he’s white, black, grey, red, blue, orange, or yellow. IT’S A STICK FIGURE. Is it really that hard to tell a difference to you or are you seriously just that jejune? These comments making everything about race are just pitiful. On average, there are 100,000 people shot every year in the United States, that’s an average of 289 people every single day.

Police killings in America have sparked a national movement for police reform, especially since the death of Mike Brown last year in Ferguson, Missouri.

Based on The Guardian’s statistics, police killed more white people than any other race this year. A total 385 white people have been killed by police this year, and 66 of them were unarmed at the time of their death.

Click Here for Source 1

People Killed This Year | Total: 1.0278
  • 509 White
  • 261 Black
  • 164 Hispanic/Latino
  • 62 Other/Unknown
  • 18 Asian/Pacific Islander
  • 13 Native American

Click Here for Source 2

Dude number 2: These are facts I got off websites with real data, NOT Facebook, Twitter, or just my own personal opinion but these are actual facts that I have included a link to so anyone that bothered to read this long thing could see for themselves. I will allow those statistics to speak for themselves, just know that you and the people that liked your comment are wrong and while police brutality is a serious issue, it is NOT towards one specific race so quit using information you get from social media sites and begin doing some investigating of your own.

Finally, Dear dude number 1: While I agree with you that police brutality is a serious issue, while it is crap that some people are handed a gun and a badge and think they are above the law; you added gasoline to an already humongous fire. You and people that think like you do are the most ignorant of all because it is people like you who look at one population of people and think that they are all bad. There are good Christian’s and there are bad ones, there are good cops and there are bad cops, there are people whom live up to the stereotypes of their race, religion, and belief systems and then there are those that simply do not. What infuriates me about people that think like you do is that you refuse to take people at face value. In a world full of labeling, drama, horrible and terrible violence, and pure evil, you CHOOSE to be apart of the generalizing that this world does but I bet it wouldn’t be okay with you if someone or a group of people did it to you.

You can’t walk into a Church and look at everyone there as if they all have the best intentions and you can’t look at all cops in a police station and assume that they’re all bad.

We are all brought up on different belief systems, morals, and values but you know what’s interesting? We all learn about the concept of good and evil, we all learned the same thing in history class. The idea behind the teachings is so we can be creative and smart enough to think for ourselves. We learn history because without it, we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes that our ancestors did. It’s all relevant and coincides because we need the creativity to think for ourselves so that we can be a different kind of generation. I am sorry, but I am not going to spend my life feeling like I owe anyone anything because of what the people of the 1500 and 1600’s brought into this world.I cannot be held accountable for what the people of the past did.

All I can do is try to be a voice for the future, to give insight and a different kind of perspective for anyone else who bothers to read this to see.

I am me and a person is just a person. 

Woman vs. Woman


I am not a perfect woman. I get jealous when I see that a girl I think is prettier than me followed my boyfriend on social media. I get mad when I see the same guy who liked my pictures on Facebook likes another girls pictures. I feel frustrated when I feel so good about my outfits and how comfortable I feel with my body until I take my bra off at night, look in the mirror and feel gross when I stare at my boobs or when I look at my backside and constantly think to myself how perky and beautiful it could be. I’ve been told several times that my body is perfect, my face is flawless, my personality is on point but I’ll never believe it because when I look around the room, I feel intimidated by all the beautiful faces, bodies, and souls I see looking back at me. I feel especially worse when I see girls who’s attributes I am so envious of but some of those girls aren’t very nice in my opinion. It’s like they know they have those beautiful attributes themselves and so they’re stuck up because of it and then I find myself judging those girls because “How is it that they can have all the things that I want but still just be ugly people on the inside? It’s not fair.” There are times when I feel really good about myself but there are also times that my mind goes to these thoughts. I probably experience them twice a day or more and it stinks but I am not a perfect a woman and I am always under construction.

So why do we do this?

women hate

The truth is, that as much as we as women are different, we are also the same in many ways.

We are territorial over what is “ours.”

We all want to feel loved and accepted.

We want someone who only has eyes for us.

We all want to succeed in life.

We all want what we think is best for ourselves.

We all want to feel beautiful.

We all want to feel like we matter.

We all want to make a difference.

We are all insecure.

We all have flaws.

We all want to be unique.

You know what’s great about this?

We can be these and that is okay.

You know what’s awful about this?

The fact that we feel we have to one up each other all the time.

The fact that we’re so territorial that if our man cheats, we blame the woman instead of the man.

The fact that we’re so insecure, we hate the idea of anyone being more successful than we are.

The fact that we are all beautiful, but we define our beauty on what the majority of men perceive to be beautiful.

Black girls be winning.

Mixed girls be winning.

White girls be winning.

Latino girls be winning.

Asian girls be winning.


How about:

WOMEN be winning.


The eternal truth is that your beauty is not defined by a man, another woman, your best friend, your worst enemy, what the scale beneath your feet says, the number of times a week that you exercise, or the number of times a week that you don’t. Your beauty is not defined by what a magazine describes as beautiful. Be your own kind of beautiful. Be the beautiful that has flaws and weaknesses but embraces her flaws and constantly works to be the best version of herself that she can be. While at it, encourage your fellow female. Society has torn us apart for far too long. If you want to wear a bunch of make up because that makes you feel good about yourself, then do it. If you want to get your breasts done because you will feel better about who you are then do it. If you want to wear tight clothing because that’s how you like your clothes then do it and feel no shame. Just because what you do might not be for someone else, do not let that discourage you because not everything you do in life is going to be for everyone else. Above all though, make sure what you are doing is for YOU. Do not do these things because you want more likes on Instagram or because you think these things will attract people toward you. Focus on self development always; remember that you are forever under construction and you will always have things you need to work on and that’s okay but everything you do in life, let it be about you, no one else. Get your finances in order, get your education, know your worth, constantly strive to achieve the goals that YOU have for YOU. If you spend your life trying to please someone else then you will lose a piece of what makes you incredibly you every single time.

words to live by

Keep your heels, dreams, and heads high ladies.

Getting Naked

“You think you’ve seen her naked because you took her clothes off? Tell me about her dreams. Tell me what breaks her heart. What is she passionate about, and what makes her cry? Tell me about her childhood. Better yet, tell me one story about her that you’re not in.

You’ve seen her skin, and you’ve touched her body but you still know as much about her as a book you once found, but never got around to opening.” – Anonymous

I struggled with what to write about first so I decided just to stick with what I know,

At least what I know thus far.

My name is Cami Broughton.

I am 18 years old.

My favorite color is pink.

But my preferred color is black.

My dream is to become a Journalist.

With a concentration in what?

This is to be determined.

My favorite food is spaghetti.

My favorite movie is “Titanic”

Conspiracy theories fascinate me.

I’m beyond passionate about fashion

&I love make up

This may seem somewhat superficial

But I have always been a firm believer of

“When you look good, you feel good.”

&I am a strong advocate of loving everything about oneself

Even the things one might not necessarily like.

I love coffee and indie pop music when I wake up in the morning.

&I love classical music when I drink tea at night.

I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis at the age of 16.

My right eye became blurry on a Wednesday morning in October of 2014

My sight in that eye was gone the following Saturday

I went to the emergency room that Sunday

Where I stayed for a week

I was diagnosed on a Thursday

After a series of tests were run on my brain and my spine

I now have to inject myself with a shot of Copaxone

3 times a week

Monday, Wednesday, Friday

Every week

For the rest of my life

On the plus side, my eye sight returned about a month after I was diagnosed

So that was pretty nice.

I was really ashamed of my disease for a long time

But it is a small part of me

Not the whole package

&I refuse to allow it to define me.

I’ve spent a good majority of my life looking at the glass half empty

But I am trying to start looking at it half full.

I believe in equal rights

For everyone

The LGBT&Q community

The African-Americans

The Hispanics

The Asians

The Caucasians

The Women


I am a home body

An introvert

With extrovert qualities once I get to know someone.

I love books.

I want to create a private library out of a room in my home one day.

I have been called an old soul.

I don’t like parties

I got all of that out of my system at a very young age

My mom was incarcerated for some minor stuff that added up quick

So I went without her

From the time I was 12 to 3 months shy of turning 14

&My alleged father has been out of the picture since I was 2

That was a really rough time for me

I turned to self harm

I went to therapy

I was depressed

I was angry

I was confused

I hung out with people beyond my age group

I lost my virginity at a young age

I found ways to be sneaky

I got drunk for the first time at 13

I got high for the first time at 13

I lied

I stole

I sought out the attention of any man who would give it to me

I think I just wanted to feel loved and accepted

Even if it was only for a night

&That’s why I did what I did

But I got all of that stuff out of my system by 15

I just had no more interest in it

I don’t fault those of my peers that enjoy that stuff now

They’ve got to experience things and learn too.

I think that is probably why it’s challenging for me to make friends though.

I’ve never been on the same level with people my age.

It’s easier now because I know where they are

But back in middle school when I was doing this stuff

None of them understood where I was.

I do not write these things about me for attention

I do not explain myself because I think I need to

I just want to exposed myself

To be blunt

To be free

To be out in the open

I’m not ashamed of where I’ve been

I’m not ashamed of where I am

I’m not ashamed of where I might end up either

I just want to be mentally and emotionally naked

So that people might understand where I come from with my opinions

So that people might understand where I come from with my beliefs

&So that maybe they’ll want to be naked with me too.