a detour

I know I said that this was the beginning of finding myself and all, but really I feel like college has actually taken me in the opposite direction. It isn’t its fault or anything, it’s honestly my own. I think that once you come here as a freshman it’s hard to grasp right from wrong and how to say no in general. A time of such instability and change has created even more anxiousness and misunderstanding than when I was in high school. Who would’ve known?

I thought when I left that I could find a fresh start and potentially become someone else. I realize now that I am the only one blocking my transition. It’s hard not knowing anyone and honestly not even knowing yourself. You can feel yourself drift, but for some reason there’s always something pulling you back to where you used to be. The comparison happens to be even worse, and the self deprecation only increases within your first weeks of rushing. It’s crazy how confident you can feel with yourself, and without even knowing it, completely forget all of the great things you loved. It’s even harder not being surrounded by the people who kept tabs on you for 4-years and constantly reminded you of your goodness.

College is basically like remaking yourself, but somehow I managed to remake me into a worse version. A lot of the things I loved in high school and never felt the need to take part in feel almost essential now in order to fit in. I used to not even care about fitting in, but at least in high school people noticed. It feels like you could disappear amongst a crowd here without a soul knowing, maybe besides my roommate. A lot of the qualities I had feel as if they’re irrelevant now; it seems like everyone’s wanting something different.

This probably sounds like a total bummer post and is long overdue to be honest, but I promise it’s gonna get better. That is the one thing I could never guarantee myself in high school.  It just feels like sometimes I’ve lost sight of what I came here for in the first place,  but maybe I’m just looking at it the wrong way.

It’s crazy how many things change throughout your first 6-months of college, and even crazier to see how much independence you develop. I think I was well prepared for this and I haven’t had that hard of a time adjusting. I will say that sometimes (well, oftentimes) I desire the comfort of my own bed and my picture scattered wall. I spent a lot of time in my room throughout high school, the good times and bad. Although I call this place home now, it doesn’t really feel like mine. It’s hard to sit here and think the way I used to, but I guess thats just growing up. It’s also important for me to remember that sometimes letting go of old memories is the only way to move forward. I keep waiting to relive the past and by now,  I should know better than this.

If I could go back and tell myself anything at the beginning of my senior year I’d say: “choose yourself.” I think that’s something I always thought I was good at, but honestly was horrible at. The slightly older I get, the more I realize how much I wish I would’ve prioritized my growth over others. I feel like if I would’ve loved myself a little bit more, I would be in a way better spot than I am at this moment. It’s too easy to repeat old habits and comparison games when you lose comfort in who you are. It’s hard to let other people love you when you find every reason to not love yourself. Cliché, but somehow this always manages to be my worst living nightmare.

As much as I understand this fault, I have repeatedly chosen to not do anything about it. It’s sad to say it isn’t oblivion anymore, it’s just fear. It’s also sad that I used to not be this person, and I’m not totally sure when I lost her. I don’t think it was ever relying on others that initiated my problem, I think it was just avoiding it as a whole. I wish I could understand how to fill my empty voids. Somehow I just end up using control methods as a way to fill them, whether it be my weight or perfecting some other element of my appearance, I always seek gratification in the unattainable. One pound feels great, how about 6 more? That’s my problem: it’s never enough.

Basically, I’m hoping that by understanding this I can stop fulfilling other people, and choose myself for once. I keep doing things and acting in the same patterns knowing they’re destructive, but somehow deciding to not stop them. It’s honestly like sometimes I enjoy making myself fall down. Pretty screwed up. I don’t know where I got it from, but I do know I need to change it.

Maybe small steps aren’t my answer anymore, and drastic measures are necessary in order to make a change. It’s time for me to choose me.

Okay, sorry for the babble.




the journey continued

Dear blog, I have failed you.

I have failed to see your importance in my life and the endless outlet you provided for me,  my problems and my joys.  Some days I just felt out of words, and others I felt that I couldn’t provide you what you deserved. I realize now that the reason I stopped writing was because of nothing other than myself and my own fears.  I let peoples’ words stop me from saying my own and I can’t explain the regret I feel for pausing this journey.

To those of you reading who feel trapped by the obligations of life and fear of others’ expectations: stop. The things you love are important. In fact, they’re essential. I love writing, I stopped writing. I forgot that my feelings are raw, honest and important. I realize now that it’s necessary to expose my own thoughts knowing that some don’t have the courage to themselves. I know because I was that girl.

To the girl who emailed me a year ago saying that my words kept her afloat in times of need, I looked back at your email today. It reminded me of how ignorant I have been towards MY purpose.

While some may not see or agree with what I do, I know deep down that this is me. I refuse to censor myself any longer. I have felt the power in my hands since the day my mom gave me my first journal. Making a difference is hard, but words have the power to in such small or HUGE ways. They can make you laugh, cry, and smile. They can make you feel the weight of the world when you feel absolutely empty. It’s a privilege to find your passion as some search for it their entire lives.

Now, I’m the girl who needs words to keep her afloat. I am in need, once again,  for this outlet and journey to continue. I want to share this with others because I know how easy it is to give up on the things you love in fear that you are incapable of keeping them. I am tired of feeling like I have to please everyone other than myself. It’s time to find me again. The best way of doing that for myself is to continue documenting my journey. This blog started my sophomore year summer, now I’m a freshman in college. I have overcome the worst and I hope everyone sees that they have the power to, too.

Now I’m going to end this sob story and go to class. I am still trying to find my sanity every day and I hope you try to, too. Thanks for listening.




more than a number

one day you’re 115, the next you’re 110.

you know you shouldn’t desire to weigh any lower.

before you know it,

you weigh 106.

the world starts to spin on its axis again.

but little do you know,

each day fluctuates pound by pound.

soon you’re back at 110.

your lowest low feels like your highest high,

it’s time to start over again.

unless your ribs are perfectly defined,

is there really a point in living?

how do I wear a suit like this?

how do I walk around in a bra?

much less, how do I stand with my body on display like a sculpture

only to be analyzed with every curve and line?

how do I know you’ll see me

for more than a number?

for more than the grasp of my skin?

how do I know you won’t judge me

and forget the beauty inside?

how do I remember that I

am worth more than number?

when inside,

it feels that it’s all that’s left.

an unattainable number

and an unfit body on display

and a mind that reminds me

I’m not worth more

every single damn day.




Dear Ana 

To my dear friend Ana and to the friends who struggle because of her,

It is national eating disorder awareness week and I feel an obligation to at least blog to my few subscribers of my own journey and the countless others I’ve witnessed.

Ana starting talking to me my sophomore year of high school. Things weren’t going well with a boyfriend and I felt out of control. I made poor decisions that I regretted for the rest of high school (and in general life). I have major OCD which initially caused me to be a perfectionist within my school work and a constant need to control relationships and friendships.

When all of these things spiraled out of my control, there was a final resort: my weight. It felt like the most magnificent way to solve my problems. Once I hit my breakup, I had one thing left for myself: my appearance. I’m a short petite person. 115- 120 pounds is more than enough for me. But these high 120’s began to feel like 200’s. I wanted less 0’s. Around that time, I remember a friend took a picture of me jokingly as I changed somewhere in the high school. I remember her showing me my rib cage. It was the first time I noticed that I didn’t look as great as I thought I did.

But I kept going anyways. I picked the tightest dress I could for a dance. At this point, I was 100 pounds. I maintained that weight as long as I could in the worst ways possible. I didn’t eat. I recreationally took things I definitely shouldn’t have. My personality spiraled down the drain.

Boys noticed me. Girl friends asked me why I wasn’t eating at lunch, if everything was okay, are you hungry, etc. Friends would offer their sandwiches and I’d reply that I wasn’t hungry.

I did this for a long time my sophomore year without much notice from anyone. Eventually, I stopped. As I always do. In stages, Ana comes in and out of my life telling me to lose those 10 pounds so I can look acceptable again.

What’s funny is, I’ve never been told that I wasn’t enough. My parents told me more than enough times. My dad hounded on me to eat every meal. My mom tells me how skinny I look. I’m not sure where the insecurity comes from. I’m not sure it is even an insecurity.

All I know is that in a mirror, it’s the first thing I notice every day. If I’m one pound heavier, I feel worse than the day before. Things need to remain the same. I need that sense of stability. I think what I enjoy(ed) was the reaction of it all.

I craved the attention of looking like someone I wasn’t. With that, I became someone I wasn’t too.

Ana is a lifelong shadow for anyone who has experienced an eating disorder or insecurity. She has the power to mentally destroy you. But I plea with you not to let her.

I’m struggling daily to remind myself that I can be beautiful at 112 pounds. But I keep telling myself anyway. Find a reason to keep Ana locked in the shadows and not reflecting through your mirror.

Beautiful is beautiful. Beautiful is not skinny. Ana is not beautiful. You are the only one who determines your worth.

Stop believing society’s definition of beautiful. Stop commenting on skinny girls instagrams telling them “I want your body.” Chances are, she’s craving that comment so she has the motivation to lose more. Stop looking in the mirror and changing clothes in hopes of looking skinnier. You already look skinny. Eat a burger. Eat whatever. Just eat. Remember that a size doesn’t define you.



It’s been awhile. I don’t have much good to say lately, but I have a sad story. I can’t tell you the story because it makes me sad. That counts for something right? People say that hardships come and go, that life goes on. I do believe them. I really do. But the hard part is, they just keep coming at me. Right when I think it’s finally over, with every door I open, someone stabs me in the back.

While I don’t want to tell you the story, it’s far too sad, I would like to cover the premise of it to hopefully save some of you the pain. I’ve met a lot of harsh people. I’ve shed many tears, but they’re trivial compared to my most recent ones. But what I didn’t know was, it isn’t just the harsh people that create them. It can be the ones who love(d) you the most, or so you thought.

Love is tricky, but in my mind there was something so constant about it. In my mind, I knew that I could never hurt someone I sincerely loved. I knew I could never intentionally tear their heart into millions of little pieces. I could never sit in another room and leave them sobbing, hovering over the floor. I just couldn’t. My heart was too big for that. My heart was so big that I believed the ones’ I loved had to have a bigger one than my own. That’s the only reason I could be attracted to them, right?

Wrong. The thing about big hearts is their filled with expectations. You don’t just want people to be the best version of themselves, you KNOW they will. And when they let you down, you refuse to believe that just maybe that person isn’t who you thought they were. It’s disappointing. The amount of times my heart has shattered for those who did nothing to save themselves are too many to count. It’s hard to have a big heart, but I never found a good enough reason to abandon it.

That was until now. One’s heart can only be so big, so innocent, so loving, so courageous for so long. One can only take so much of the world coming down on them. There’s only so many cracks to be made until the bowl shatters. It’s horrible. It’s horrible that this damage is allowed to be inflicted upon someone.

So the premise of my story is this: if you love someone, don’t hurt them. Don’t put them in harms way, guard them. Save them. Be there for them. Be the best version of you when you’re in love, because if you aren’t, it isn’t the right love. Or maybe you just took advantage of what you didn’t know you had.

Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Don’t steal. By don’t steal,  I don’t meaning belongings. I mean the innermost, beautiful qualities in a person. Don’t tarnish those. You can ruin yourself, but don’t take down others with you. Don’t steal the things that make a person whole. Don’t dip into them and take the things that made you love them in the first place. That big heart you fell in love with? Don’t ever think of forgetting it. Because once you do, everything is ruined.

The things I had spent so long building. My reputation, my character, my heart. They were so strong for so long. People who don’t love you doing things to hurt you, normal. The ones who love you most? Not. Once this occurs, everything you once knew isn’t a fact anymore. Everything you once trusted becomes a lie. People become blurs of to you. Your heart becomes an angered time bomb just waiting for someone to click the button. Anxiously, I wait for someone to click me once more; to tell me one more thing that’s wrong with me and my life.

Love was a 4 letter word. Love is what I wrote about for years. Love was my idea of a life. Love was my world. Love was what I felt for myself. Love is what I felt for others. Once someone abuses that word, what does it become now?


So, for God’s sake, and someone else’s, don’t use it lightly. Don’t abuse it. The pain feels like forever. Some day it won’t, but as of now, it dwells. It reoccurs in my head every morning and every time I try to fall asleep. It ruined my head. It ruined my heart. It ruined my love for people. It ruined my security. It ruined my confidence. It ruined me.

Don’t ruin anyone. It’s no one’s job but your own.



a somewhat brief letter to 2017

Dear year of 2017,

Alright life. 2016 sucked. I know you meant well and all. I know God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. I know all the reasons. I know that it gets better. But I do gotta say, when exactly will it? I really am curious.

Everyone says that a new year marks a new beginning, a clean slate.  I truly hope so. 2016 was a year that began with happiness and ended horribly. Facing death, heartbreak, and just mishaps in general; IT SUCKED.

Senior year is supposed to be one of those monumental times in my life that I look back at saying,  “what a year.” But clearly, the beginning didn’t provide that for me. Instead, it pretty much broke me to the lowest point possible. I will look back and say, “what the hell did I do to deserve that?” So it can’t possibly get much lower… Right?

So I’m asking you 2017, as politely as I can, reward me for making it through this. Let me be me. Let me be happy. Stop throwing rocks at me. Stop telling me I can do it, I can’t. Stop expecting me to be strong. Every ounce of me is worn out from staying as strong as I possibly could. I am not strong. I’m weak.

I need you to be easy, or at least easier than you have been. I need to gain my strength back. I need to be confident. I need to like myself. I need to like my life. I need to be excited for my future instead of dreading it.

Life you’ve been pretty fair to me in my 17 year span, but recently you changed your mind. Whatever I did, I take it back. Just give me my life back.

2017. Be my year. Please.


desperate to be happy blogger

waking up

I think when you’re little you wake up and think all of these things about the world. You think it’s kind, endearing, and welcomes you with open arms. You think your parents will stay happy forever, you think your friends are the best, there’s nothing you would change. Life is good. Life is carefree, you can’t imagine it ever not being that way.

Then one day, things get harder. You become a little more observant. You realize that there’s more to life than the playground. Being hurt isn’t just falling off the swing set anymore, it’s when you don’t get invited to one of your best friends’ birthday parities. Or the boy in your class who didn’t pick you as his friend for the free lunch with your teacher. You remember the time you curled your hair for the first time and wore a dress. You remember your teacher asking you why you looked so dolled up today. You remember being embarrassed for the first time about your crush on that boy who didn’t feel the same way. It’s when you learned life wasn’t always fair. It’s when comparison started to begin and you really realized what inequality meant.

But life went on. You observed more things. Instead of elementary school drama, it turned into middle school. You feel like you’re a step behind everyone. The girls become pretty, but you still have your braces and acne. You start to lose confidence. The boys on the bus call you names; they make up rumors. You didn’t even know what those words meant, but you’re starting to learn. The clicks start to form; you find yourself lost in people. You realize what awkward small talk is. You realize that not everyone is a true friend. You drift from the people who used to be your best friends, and attempt to make new ones.

Classes feel harder, you start to learn what stress is. Life isn’t so easy anymore, it isn’t just a playground. The teachers get grouchy; they start making premade assumptions before they even meet you. You look at other girls and wonder why you don’t look that way too. Clothes become important. That bright yellow Juicy Couture tracksuit doesn’t cut it anymore; you need a new pair of Abercrombie jeans. Don’t mind the price, it’s style. You don’t want to look different, do you? You walk around the halls, talking about the same things. “That new girl is so mean.” “Yeah I know, I think so too,” no you don’t, you don’t even know her. What #1 says, is what #2 believes. Your opinion is irrelevant; you must follow everyone else’s.

Middle school ends, you join a new and bigger world called high school. This is the place you’ve dreamed of. You think your opinion will be heard, you’re mostly right. You think the boys will grow up and you’ll meet someone nice, maybe that’s true. You think that you’ll start fresh here. It’ll be easy. Dear God, it’s not.

Your freshman year of high school, everything is exciting. The classes are new; you’ve developed a new sense of freedom here. There’s more expected out of you, but you think you can do it. You notice girls changing. Abercrombie jeans are ridiculous now, are you 14? No, I’m 15. Well, now it’s True Religion, can you ever keep up?

Things like Homecoming Court become prevalent. Those who get elected are supposedly the most admired in the school, at least that’s what you thought. You shortly realize it’s all just a popularity contest. You thought high school was more than that, you thought personality would start to be valued. Nope, still just looks. The guys get excited at football games while watching the dancers; you always watch in the stands behind. Jealousy creeps up. Why can’t I be that girl? Cause you’re not.

You find a group of friends; you think they’re pretty solid. Little do you know, a year from now everything will change. You experiment now, you meet the older guys. You walk around the school in hopes of someone older admiring you. Little do you understand, it’s never for the right reasons. They invite you to parties, but you’re still to scared to try anything new. You admire the older girls; they seem like they have their shit together. Oh my God, no they don’t. You meet a boy, you date. He was nice, but too boring. You get confused. You find someone else. Too bad you didn’t break up with him yet.

You start your sophomore year. You’re that girl that gets elected on to court; you think life is pretty good right now. Except the fact that you’re confused as hell, have no idea what you’re doing, and there’s a kid playing tricks on your mind every day. He tells you he loves you, he asks you for a picture. You ponder the thought because you think this is how high school works. So you do it. Nothing bad happens, but you feel like an idiot. Always will too. How could you do that to yourself?

That guy who said he loved you introduced you to new things, he said you should take a shot. You did it. You find yourself in a deeper hole than ever. There’s no way out now. The shots become a frequent weekend activity, your friends have open houses. The girls who haven’t done these things think you’re going insane. They spread rumors, or really were they? You walk around with your head down. You plug your headphones in. “I just have to get through the day,” becomes a common mentality. Your boyfriend gets worried, you’re worried too. You don’t tell him though; you want to sort things out. Or do you?

Your boyfriend breaks up with you. You think life hates you. Everyone’s out to get you, this is the worst time in your life. Trust me, you’ll be proved once again that that isn’t true. You turn rebellious; just because you want to hide how really sad you actually are. You start to think you aren’t good enough; the first thing you look at is your body. You’re so fat, Jesus, 120 pounds. What are you?

You stop eating for awhile. You’re breaking out on a daily basis and hiding in your room. The good news is, you’re down to 111. You feel healthy again, at least for awhile. Boys start to look at you. Single and skinny; two things you think guys really like. Too bad the only one you wanted didn’t like you too. You start to eat again.

You’re quite sad how things have ended up, you really don’t want to be anywhere. You’re not wanted. You show up still, have to maintain an image. God, if they only knew what was hiding behind those eyes of yours. If they only knew…Junior year begins, you started to take birth control because of your anxiety and acne. You gained like 10 pounds. You basically wanna shove your head in a pillow for the rest of your life. No one thinks you gained weight, but you can feel it. Soon, you get off that pill and lose it within two weeks. Things are better, right?

You’re snapchatting that boy you met at the end of summer; you think he’s perfect. Nothing like any of the guys you’ve met before, he’s nice. You put yourself in his brain. You make him get to know you, but he didn’t really want to at first. You were just a friend, maybe with some benefits. He loved someone else; you were just a distraction.

You give him an ultimatum; you start to realize your worth. You’re more of a person than you ever were before. He doesn’t love her anymore, he wants you. You get to know him, never know if it’s what you want, but you decide to really give it a chance. You cut that guy off from freshman year, it’s time to grow up. You go on dates, real ones; you even ask him to plan them. It’s all about the impressions. If I can be this cool, sane, and pretty girl, will he learn to like me? You avoid the touchy subjects at all costs, he can’t know the real you.

You get closer. He actually is pretty neat. He’s got some baggage, but you were always a fixer upper. You like the challenge. He distracts you. He convinces you that life is great, only if you’re with him though. The separation anxiety will start to kick in. For the most part, junior year is great. You quit that God awful therapy for your panic attacks, and saw a psychiatrist. She couldn’t believe you made it without meds. Your anxiety is shortly (somewhat) relieved. You have a boyfriend you love. You distance yourself from the drama of your friends, and pop in whenever you want to.

Then you go to prom for the first time. The best night of your life, right? You look perfect. You’ve never been more excited. You have a blast at pictures, then you get on the bus. Your anxiousness and social anxiety kicks in. He wonders why you won’t dance. You host the after party. It’s a catastrophe. It reminds you why you stopped hanging out with your friends in the first place. They always act like intoxicated idiots.

You pull through junior year. You take the ACT, you still suck, but you’re okay. You say, “I love you,” for the first time and actually mean it. You’ve never felt this way before. You’re so scared for him to leave for college; your happy place will disappear. You’re lucky though, you’ll have the summer to prepare. Just kidding, that’s bullshit.

The summer is spent with him, him, and more him. You loved most of it, besides the topic of college. You didn’t do anything too risky, but you felt pretty good. You were in a good spot with most of your friends. Everything was okay. The last weeks before school approach, you’re gone almost all of them. You spend time with your family, and his. You hear some good, and some bad news. You sit through one of the most difficult talks of your life and don’t understand why your faith has never been more challenged.

He leaves for college. You make dinner for the first time night before, you say your goodbyes. “It’s only 20 minutes away,” they said. I never knew how far that would feel until it actually happened. There are moments of clarity, and some with none at all. You visit often, but he wants to be alone. He’s a college kid, that’s what college kids do.

You try to get used to the partying, the confusion, the unknown. It’s so much harder than you ever thought, you feel like you’re breaking. A two way street isn’t two when the other isn’t compromising. School sucks. You hate your classes; senior year was supposed to be fun. You never see any of your friends, and you hate football games. There’s nothing to do in this city. Just when you think the fighting, sadness, and security issues could any worse. You find out she got sicker.

Your boyfriend’s mom; who you quickly learned to love after months of trying to impress. She had cancer, a shitty case of it too. Your heart starts to hurt. The helplessness kicks in. She’s had it for four years, but now she’s on hospice. Things have taken a turn for the worse.

You’re there for him, and his whole family. You can’t even imagine the toll on their hearts. This whole situation is just a testament of faith. Can they do it? Can you do it? What can you do? You stick around. Your first two weekends of senior year are spent with him and his family, struggling to find ways to support.

You give hugs, write cards, give food, but nothing seems to ease the pain. You’re struggling too, God, why this family? The first weekend’s spent filled with goodbyes. You try to hug the pain out of them, but you can still see it in their eyes. You’re trying to hold it together, but it’s so hard. You remember the few, but always meaningful comments she made to you. You’ll always love the color light pink on you, it’ll remind you of her. She thought you looked beautiful in it.

He’s mad all the time. At you, at himself, at the world. Can you do anything right? You feel like the bad guy, but all you’re trying to do is be there. You have to say goodbye; all you can mutter is “you’re an amazing woman.” “I was,” she said, if she only knew what we were all thinking. She’d become the inspiration of your life in a matter of months. So strong, so courageous, 6 kids? How can you manage all of this with 6 kids? She is an amazing woman, always was. Never stopped.

She passes the next day. Could life honestly throw me one hurdle, come at me please. You want to make everything better; you can’t. Just be there when you can. Next weekend, the arrangements begin. The wake, the funeral. Don’t even want to get into specifics. She was a beautiful woman, that’s all I can say. She also raised hell of a family, you can’t even imagine. Her passing will continuously break my heart in the days to come.

You see the impact she made on everyone; especially her children. How will they carry on? You feel this need to be there, but you know you won’t be forever. This, by far, will be the biggest challenge you’ve faced.

So, senior year. Things should be great, but they’re really just not. You sit and wonder why God does the things he does. You question why you of all people are the one in this situation, and how to do a better job in it without losing your mind. You don’t know how to save him in fear of losing yourself. The wait for college acceptances begins, and the anxiousness and fear hovers over you. Every. Single. Day.

How will it end? I don’t know.

why is life so God damn unfair

I mean, I think this phrase comes up pretty often, but what the hell?

How many obstacles can you throw at people until they’ve hit their breaking point?

Why do you keep doing these things that are so unfair with no remorse?

You just keep doing it over and over again.

I want to scream. I want to tell you to stop. But how on earth can I control what you do?

I can’t.

There are those days when people come up to you and tell you that God has a plan, and that everything truly will be okay if you give it time. LIFE. I keep giving you time. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. How much of my time will I give you until it’s too late?

You keep taking people away from me. You keep shortening their time. You keep breaking hearts. You keep making us sad. You keep expecting us to grow, to be better, to move on.

How am I supposed to be better when all you do is make me sad? You keep giving these temporary people and temporary places to create this temporary sense of relief. When will something be permanent?

When will anything be permanent when all you do is turn things to dust?

When will the good times stay good? When will God tell me his plan? I can seek refuge all I want, but when will I ever gain understanding?

I just don’t understand, life. What are you trying to do to me?

Lessons Learned 2.0

The night before my first day of senior year, and last day of my high school career has arrived. My mind is crowded with anticipation, fear, and happiness all at the same time.

I’ve learned a lot about myself this year, probably more than I ever have before. Junior year brought the best and the worst out of me, and I can’t distinguish which one there was more of. My year was mostly spent happy, but also very stressed at the same time. I didn’t and still don’t know where I’m going. I’m still stuck at school for another long year. Lastly, I’m still as cynical as I was at the end of my freshman year hating every day here just as before.

There are lots of things that made it better though I must say. My family and friends were pretty great and always there when I needed them. I got a boyfriend who made my life 1,000 times better as it seemed. I have a roof over my head and a life to look forward to. The life that I’ve always spent looking forward to; a life in college. Although I’m not done taking my tries at the ACT, I have solid options and hopefully will end up happy wherever I go.

But right now what I can really say is, I take things for granted a lot. I take for granted how good life is to me just based off of singular events and people in my life. I know people who are, and have been, struggling for years. I know people who don’t know if they’ll make it another day. I also know people who have to worry for the safety of others, ALL the time. I’m pretty freaking lucky as much as I hate to admit it.

I go to a school where teachers provide and promote a well rounded education every day. I live in a house where my family provides almost everything for me without a thank you. I have friends that would jump hoops for me whenever I ask them to.

I’m failing to get to the point here, so let me state this more clearly. Life sucks sometimes, to be honest, mine right now kinda even sucks. But honestly, it has to get better. Be optimistic. If you spend years dreading what’s to come and being unappreciative to those who matter, you’re obviously going to hate life. I’m not saying I take my own word by any means, but going into my senior year I’m starting to realize life is a little bigger than just me.

There are so many things to do and people to meet, always be openminded. Life will never stay boring unless you make it that way. I sometimes feel like where I live is the worst place in the world, but then I realize how much freaking worse it could actually be. If you’re bored, switch things up.

Do what makes you happy and keep whoever makes you happier. If neither of those things happen, you’re bound to a life filled with disappointment.

As cynical and afraid I am of the year and whats to come, I know how much I’ll end up missing this time in my life. Life is easy, easier than it probably ever will be. I’ve had the same friends since seventh grade and I don’t know what life will look like without them. I live with my beyond supportive family and my mom who does my laundry every single day.

Focus less on your doubts and more on your joys. Take life as it comes to you and always work to be more. Life isn’t easy, but usually we’re the ones that are making it harder.

Life is good, God has a plan, and things will and can be better. Always do your best.





Since I haven’t blogged in months and my life has turned back into an uneventful, summer bliss I figured it was time to get back into the writing game.

Unlike sophomore year summer Emilee, junior year summer Emilee has a minimum amount of complaints about her life.

Life is good. Really good. Annoyingly good. Good enough to make me unable to write the things I used to, and process emotions the way I used to. I hate to say it, but I’ve become one of those people; a person who is annoyingly talking about the joys in her life.

My parents are great… in fact, greater than ever. We get along? I don’t know how that happened within the span of a year, but I’d like to think that my anxiety meds had a GREAT deal to do with it. Thank you Prozac, you’re the shit. Since we’re on the topic of prozac, my dog used to take it too. He died, but I’d like to think the pill made both of our lives much better. RIP Baxter, I miss you. You were also “the shit.”

My friends… now that’s a subject that seems to never drastically change throughout the years. A lot of work as usual, but luckily I have a boyfriend that gives me the power to avoid most of them 99.9 % of the time. If I could redo anything starting from the beginning of my freshman year, I would choose befriending on close manners MORE than 5 females.

The thing that’s wrong with befriending ONLY 5 females is, they also only befriend 5 females. Therefore, you have the same friends. All the time. No breaks. With more and more and more shit piling between you over the many years. And what’s even worse than your 5 female friends, is your multiple male friends. The chubby, weird, AWESOME guys I befriended back in seventh grade have now learned to think with more than their brains. Instead, they now uses their penises.

Okay, okay, but now I’ll skip back to the positives. I mentioned earlier I have a boyfriend.  I love my boyfriend. He’s better than prozac, he’s like my savior. He rubs my head and gives me back massages when I’m tense. He deals with my anxiousness and awkwardness on a daily basis and still treats me like I’m the best thing ever (I’m so not). But what am I then? LUCKY. I’m lucky that I learned what I didn’t want and finally found what I did. Someone who’s kind, adorable, attentive, and most of all imperfect. Perfect is a word meant for the oblivious and ignorant. No one will ever be perfect. But damn, he’s pretty close. But what I have learned about love is, the imperfections become your favorite parts. You love someone for all the things you actually do LOVE about them, but you also learn to love the things you hate too.  I wouldn’t change a single thing. I mean I wouldn’t change a thing other  than the fact that he’s a year older and leaving me for college next year. That’s going to be a large, large, large, large, did i mention large? BUMMER!

Lastly (for today), I think that I’ve grown up. I learned my priorities and kinda, sorta what I want from the world and people around me. No, I’m not necessarily getting it. But I do plan to, someday. My life is full of somedays. But I like somedays because they give me something to look forward to. I can’t help but hope for that big journalism career, or going to the schools that are unattainable for me. I can’t help but dream of my perfect life with my three adorable boys and beautiful, kind husband. Someday sounds pretty good to me, of course if I make it there.