1. You’re going to change your style every single year, it’s the key indicator of personal growth.
2. Friends aren’t jealous of friends. They celebrate others’ accomplishments not drown themselves in their own disappointments.
3. Love doesn’t hurt.
4. People notice happiness that you make for yourself, people will want to be near that. But don’t let them take it.
5. Own your talents.
6. Confidence doesn’t not equal cockiness.
7. People can say “I love you” and not mean it.
8. People enter your life in seasons for different reasons. It’s called ebb and flow.
9. Trust your gut. Always listen to intuition. Always.
10. Kindness and being nice are two different things.
11. People can try and tell you who you are, but most of the time they’re wrong.
12. Smile, laugh as loud as you can. Let them hear your joy.
13. Don’t forget to tell them you love them.
14. Life is so fucking fragile.
15. It’s ok to ask for help.
16. Do not let fear guide your life.
17. Talk. Say when something’s wrong, don’t bottle it up in a passive aggressive episode.
18. Lists are still really hard.
I want to feel good again. I want the insecurities and scars of memories to leave my mind. I want to not constantly look over my shoulder for the bad times that always seem to creep in when things feel calm.
I want to forget the nights I’ve cried because I was stupid and didn’t see warning signs. I want to forget about the people that hurt me because I know I wouldn’t dare let it happen again.
I want to remember how beautiful I am. I want to remember how the curvatures of my body are something to be envied and that I don’t need to hurt myself to feel pretty. I want to get out of this endless loop of contemplating and complaining, of vexing accusations and void statements.
I have words for how I feel but I also have none. I have fear. Fear of what could be and fear of what isn’t said.
I am too precious to lose, I know that. But I also feel like this loss would be a breath of fresh air, that everyone would be better off.
Importance, a state of being that I don’t remember. I want to feel important I want to be important. I want to be the one.
I don’t want to be forgotten.
I used to use this blog as a support system. I used to divulge all the key details of my life and every intimate feeling I stumbled across on this screen.
Now I just tell them, I tell the people I love what they mean to me instead of sharing it out into cyberspace. I think I used this as a crutch, a way to indirectly share what I felt. But that isn’t real, that isn’t the way life is. Things are fleeting and you have to tell the people who matter to you their worth to their faces. Pour out your heart, let the vulnerable stares encapture you and lead you to utter bliss of the unknowing.
I grieve, I am grieving. But I am also celebrating. I’m 102 pounds of light now, a healthy weight, a good weight. One filled with happiness and adoration for what life has given me.
I wish no pain upon those who have hurt me, I truly don’t. I put up this facade like I’m hard and sharp but I am delicate; it is a trait I now wear proudly. My heart is gentle, it is big, it is forgiving and I am thankful.
In this harsh world we lack love; we lack an understanding of each other, but when we hold on to the good things—the beautiful things—how then can the grays of this earth reach us?
These are new colors, I have not seen them before; I quite enjoy them, I really do.
“Are you ok?” Um no not really thanks for asking.
“ Is everything ok?” Define ok.
“How can I help?” I don’t know, I’m sorry but I really don’t know.
“What’s going on with you?” I just, I can’t breathe, I feel numb but everything is on fire.
“Why do you look so down?” Oh it’s nothing see look I’m smiling, I’m smiling I promise.
“I’m here ok I promise.” You said that before, you left me before.
“You’re not alone I’m here.” Then why do I feel so far away?
“You’re special you are, I promise.” How? Tell me how. Tell me. See, you can’t.
“Let me help you.” I never tried to stop you. You just gave up.
“Look at how many people love you.” I know, fuck you, I know, and I love you.
“You’d really do that to them? Really?” Please I just, I can’t breathe. It hurts. I’m hurt.
Give me a reason to stay on this earth. A real reason.
I do not know who I am. I sit here and I listen to these voices screaming over one another for my attention, my help, and I have no care. I can’t will myself to talk about the same problems and not have anyone consider the solutions I offer. I can barely will myself to care about my own well being.
I am dying. I can feel it. I know that something is dying off within me. I feel orange. I feel so orange all of the time. Who knows what is breathing its last breaths within me? Is it a physical thing? Or is my brain just slowly leaving me.
I can barely concentrate, I haven’t told anyone this but it’s harder for me to write down things, my brain jumbles up the words and my fingers fumble over themselves. I get more headaches, my mood swings ravage my mind and leave me dehydrated from all the tears I cry.
And I can’t stop thinking about love, and who deserves my love. Who I would want to say goodbye to when I finally leave, who I want to kiss.
I can’t stop thinking about kissing, the act of kissing, the meanings behind it. I can’t stop thinking about people noticing me. Am I noticeable? Have I left an imprint on the strangers I walk by.
Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? And why am I so orange?
The sun and moon are a perplexing duo.
Here she was, an emblem of light and beauty—the source of all life casting herself away so the pesky moon could have his moment from time to time. Or so everyone told her.
And the moon was a headache inducing disappearing act; only showing glimpses of himself before finally uncovering his full potential once every so often. Yes, he provided a cool glow in the dark of the night, and of course there were so many clichés about the beauty of the moonlight. But that wasn’t his real source of power. He pulled people in just as he would the tides, intoxicating everyone in his wake.
This dark nature should have turned the sun away, as it had so many people before her, but instead it encouraged her. She wanted him to shine, to sparkle just like she did each morning.
My dear, the moon isn’t taking anything from our precious sun, she is simply carrying him with her light, with her love.
“You tempt me and I don’t know how to retaliate. It’s like a drug. I’m addicted but don’t want help.”
– an excerpt from this tulmutous chapter of my life