I came across an old conversation and I didn’t feel depressed or upset or, worst of all, angry
In fact, it made me smile.
It even made me laugh.
We were really fucking cute.
I mean, I couldn’t get away completely unscathed. There were definitely tears threatening to fall. But for the most part. I felt really really good.
I went back even further to when we were friends. And that was even funnier. I don’t know why you ever put up with me to that extent even then, but I’m sure as hell glad you did and I pray to god you could consider doing it again in the future.
Another whiny, the grass is always greener on the other side post
I haven’t told many people the story about how I lost two of my best friends in middle school.
We grew close and strong throughout seventh and eighth grade until a faithful March where they became angry with me when they did something stupid and I ha a different opinion.
Well, now, one of them is heading off to Yale. And the other has her perfect, attractive, smart British boy.
And here I am, stuck in this rut and confused.
I think when I turn 19, I’m going to ask my mom to start “The Search.”
It seems like a long process and I don’t want to end up 28 and single and settle for the first guy who comes around.
I mean I’m sure it’d take at least a year to find someone. And then I’d want to get to know them.
I think this way it would kinda force me to keep my nose clean and be a good little girl too.
Who knows. Maybe I’ll find a guy who will volunteer abroad with me for a few months. That would make two years with the Peace Corps so much less scary.
Yup, that’s what I’m going to do. Next year, guys. I know I wrote about how I need to stop making so many future plans. But I need something to move towards. I’m trying to grow up. And in my mind this would be a step in the right direction.
“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald (via pianoghost)
The kid I’m tutoring told his sister that he’s being tutored in “how to socialize so I [he] can go on dates.”
I’m pretty sure that’s NOT what his mom is paying me $40/hour for xD we’ve been reading Ray Bradbury and the driver’s ed manual
Skipped lunch and didn’t have time to go home so I’m taking a 10 minute power nap in my car before my tutoree shows up so I don’t pass out on him.
This is every day.
August please come faster
Ha also got ditched because someone thinks that someone really doesn’t want me around. Thanks for that. I’m glad we’re “friends.”
“Tolerance — that’s true love. In fact I’d define ‘true love’ as the ability to share one fridge with the same person for seventeen years without resorting to fists.”—Charlie Brooker, How TV Ruined Your Life: Love (Episode 4)
“How can the only thing that’s killing me make me feel so alive?” -Parachute
“Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.” -OneRepublic
Two completely different bands expressing very similar sentiments at different points in time. I always thought it was an interesting sentiment too. That Parachute lyric was my favorite song lyric for months. It seemed so perfectly paradoxical. And it took until now for me to finally understand what it could mean.
People say the rush of adrenaline in exciting or risky situations makes them feel alive. And that makes sense. It isn’t until we are faced with the threat of death that we begin to appreciate or understand what it means to live. It’s like that saying about not appreciating what you have until it’s gone. I’ve seen that hold true more in the past year than ever before. Or maybe I was just more aware of it now because I had recently learned that I took too much for granted in my life. I never stop thinking that, maybe if I had been less critical and more sensitive, he wouldn’t have stopped loving me.
Maybe all those little things that kill us remind us of how fragile our lives really are. It reminds us that we are living, but that it can be taken away in a second.
Or maybe it’s like that saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder. When something is gone, you miss it, right? Maybe Parachute’s songwriter’s heart grew so fond of that thing he felt like he was dying. Our anatomical hearts are what keep us alive, constantly pumping that oxygenated blood through our arteries, to our organs, to our muscles, to our brain. But our metaphorical heart is what gives us the will to keep living. And how can it push us forward if it is full of yearning and aching?
Most of all though, those words should be reminders of hope and strength. The fact that those things that kill us just push us to survive and pull through. It may put us through pain for extended periods of time, but we are still living, which means something is still going right. The happiness extracted from those murderous “things” is worth all the pain and death in our world. Because it reminds us that we are alive. And life is ultimately good. “
Oh I left out the part where I whine about the fact that I don’t think things will be any different a year from now and all I’ve done is see myself in all the movies where things work out perfectly in the end and I just haven’t gotten that out of my head yet because even if I had to wait four years and I actually did end up moving on and things were fine, if the stars ever aligned I would run straight to them without a second of hesitation because that is where I want to be and I’m looking at all the majors and minors and courses and study abroad options I have in college and people ask me what job I will have and my career and who I’ll marry and where I’ll live and my answer to every single question of them is I don’t know but I know exactly what that plan entailed and I wish for it with every fiber of my being and I sound like a desperate obnoxious idiot right now and it’s even worse because I am so aware of the fact that it is slightly possible that you will read this and hate me even more but I cannot help but type this down anyway because while I know nothing will change the smallest part of me still believes that maybe if you kept hearing what I’m thinking you would feel sorry for me and that’s not the way I should want things to go but I think feeling sorry for me is a step to feeling something for me and maybe that’s the answer I want all along.
I am going to go ahead and use names and shit because I am trying so hard to work things out in my head and if nothing I can do makes things better than why the hell does it matter if I come across as more obnoxious and undesirable? So here it goes.