twenty

3/10/2019

Writing this, I am overcome by a million emotions and I wish I could say it’s because of something as simple as PMS. I’m sitting downstairs on the couch of the living room I have lived in the last 20-years and my parents just told me goodnight. When they said happy birthday for the final time, I started to cry and they responded with confusion. “There’s so much to come,” my dad reasons with me. “Do you think everything changes just because you aren’t 19 anymore, but 20?” If I was thinking logically, the answer would be no. I’m thinking with my heart, I want to scream, “YES!”

Normally, a birthday marks just another year that passes by in what feels like my never ending youth. I can think back to 10-years ago on my 10th birthday, which was also my ‘golden.’ Celebrated at The Waterpark of America, I invited all of my friends with GOLDEN tickets. Clever, right? Vividly, I can remember my childhood friend, Gracie, left bottomless after a surf board wipeout. What I can’t vividly remember is the time that passed between then and now, and how it possibly could’ve gone by so fast.

Every birthday I’ve had until now is one that I wished for sooner. Each year brought me closer to something I thought I didn’t have the luxury of having. They brought an excitement, knowing they were just one step closer to the destination I’d always planned on arriving to. I guess what I’m saying is, the idea of adulthood once seemed so far away, but now it’s not far at all. Actually, it feels as if it just knocked on my door. Or maybe it pounded?

My entire life up until now was spent waiting for a day like today where I’d be bigger and better than ever before. I might be bigger, but am I better? The birthday I once wished for now happens to be the birthday that I wish I could postpone. I wish it could be a year from now, or maybe two. Who knows? I sure as hell don’t.

The expectation that my life would be running smoothly by 20-years-old was a short-lived dream. In fact, I woke up from it this morning. I’ve wanted to fall back asleep ever since.

The truth is, it’s easier to still feel like a kid at 19 than it is to at 20. Things that used to not matter, do. Things that once mattered, don’t. It was easier to dream of the opportunities I’d once have, not actually face them.

Today, I’m 20. I’m not a kid and officially am no longer a teen. Today, I’m 20 and…. I DON’T KNOW WHAT I AM. It doesn’t feel right calling myself an adult, mostly because I’m terrified of becoming one. So what am I? A girl having a pre-adulthood crisis? A girl with no idea as to who the hell she is because all she ever thought about was who she would be?

Today, I’m the same 8-year-old girl crying outside the bus to church camp hiding inside of a 20-year-old woman’s body. I feel as terrified as I did on that day, and all I want is to do is cling to the safety of the things I already know.

Today, I am at the age I once dreamed of, but nothing is as it once seemed. I made it, but parts of me burn to rewind time and put the puzzle pieces back together. I made it, but the reality is that my pieces are scattered across the floor, nicked and wary from 20-years of hopeless expectation and experience. I long for the days that being where I am today was a wish, not a reality.

Today, a little part of me broke into pieces realizing that not all dreams come true, especially by the age of 20. Today, a part of me realized that the period of naive time where expectations exist is over. Today, reality was unmasked and my 20-year-old eyes were forced to see it.

Room 402

Tonight is my last sleepover with my roommate in Wilkins Hall, Room 402. We have spent the last 9-months eating together, sleeping across from each other, studying together, and so much more. I am trying so hard to not start crying writing this because I am so not ready to say goodbye to this place or the memories we made here.

You always hear roommate horror stories that terrify you in advance of leaving for college. It’s true, you cannot truly know someone by reading their Facebook bio and creeping on all of their Facebook photos. You really can’t know anyone until you meet them, and even then, you don’t know someone with complete certainty. Even people I thought I knew best ended up becoming someone entirely different.

This year has taught me one important thing: you don’t know anyone until you live beside them. I have only ever been used to living with my family, and my roommate is the first person I have lived with outside of them. This was the first time I ever lived without my family, and the first time I moved into a “new home” in 18-years.

Much like my own family, my roommate knows me best. I didn’t think that anyone could know me as closely as my own mother; I was wrong. I didn’t think that you could find your forever best friend in 9-months. Once again, I was wrong. This place, as much as I’ll miss it, means nothing without the person I shared it with.

My roommate was what made this place home. It wasn’t the decorations or the fact that we paid to live there; it was that SHE was always here. When she wasn’t, I didn’t want to be there. It’s sad that this summer I’m moving back “home” but missing the newest addition.


 

Although I will miss many parts of 402: the overwhelming heat, our couch, and the bathtub…

I will miss you more.

I’ll miss binge watching Blacklist, Bates Hotel, and Friends with you. I will miss our Monday and Tuesday designated Voice nights. I somehow will miss your spontaneous organization of the bathroom, and how you never tell me where you put my hairbrush. I will miss your sometimes obnoxious heavy breathing while you sleep. I’ll miss listening to some of your less than intelligent questions, and answers like Canada being a continent. I might even miss your stupid protein shakes and when you refuse to eat pizza with me. I’ll even miss the stupid elliptical you moved into our apartment and when you exercise as I binge eat dove chocolates.

I didn’t know that going into this that I’d find my partial twin, and future best friend. Thank you for responding to my Facebook chat, and believing in my fake bio claiming I was moderately clean. Thank you for being your emotional self and crying when hearing any sad story. Thank you for not being a complete hugger, and for sharing my same semi non-girly attitude. Thank you for telling me to not send that text.

Thank you for being sometimes too chill, and allowing me to mom you when you aren’t getting your shit together. Thank you for laughing at everything I say even though I’m not that funny. Thank you for bringing me home from the bars (most nights) and not killing me. Thank you for not getting mad at me after losing my key twice, and having to get the locks changed.. twice. Thank you for almost calling UMPD for me when you couldn’t find me. Thank you for throwing crackers back in my face when you’re under the influence and I try to feed you. Thank you for cleaning my dishes when I’m too lazy to get up and do it myself. Thank you for dealing with all of my relationships; literally all.

Thank you for basically being the best roommate a girl could ask for, and thank you for becoming a part of the place I call “home.” I know we are living together next year too, and probably the year after that, but I will always remember this year the most. You will always be my home away from home and I’m counting down the months until we share an actual home again.

Basically, I love you woman. Thank you for walking into my life; I promise, I’m never letting you walk out.

Here’s to room 402 and the best friendship its made. Room 608, here we come.

 

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Sad Eyes

She walks around with sad eyes

Every where she goes.

People think she’s happy,

But no one really knows.

 

She walks around with sad eyes

Every where she goes.

She wants someone to ask her,

But no one ever goes.

 

Her eyes sometimes get brighter,

But the sunshine goes away.

At 10:pm in her bedroom,

Memories start to fade.

 

She tries her best to recall them,

But always tries too much.

Her head starts to hurt,

Her face starts to flush.

 

Her smile starts to fade,

Her eyes begin to flutter.

 

The tears that are falling drown her underwater.

 

The next time you see a girl with sad eyes,

Go and ask her why.

Let her tell you how she’s feeling,

Sit and let her cry.

Don’t tell her to feel better,

It doesn’t work that way.

Hug her till she smiles,

Help it go away.

 

The next time you see a girl with sad eyes,

Don’t you let her down.

Put her on a pedestal,

Give her a crown.

Make her feel pretty,

Make her feel smart.

Tell her she’s worth it,

Don’t let her fall apart.

ohh there’s something about the way…

There’s something about the way you look at her. A way that’s so apparent to everyone around you, even me. But she doesn’t look back at you the same. She never has.

Despite that, you still keep looking with this impeccable glimmer in your eyes. Your dream, you think, standing right in front of you. Almost a fingertip away.

But I stand next to you and watch as your eyes slowly deceive you. You follow her as she drifts further and further away. All that’s left: an eerie trace of what used to be.

But you hold on, onto those little memories that seem so big now. I see them fading. But you stand gripping to them with all of your might, afraid.

Afraid  of looking beyond the closed spaces.

Afraid of walking outside your comfort zone.

Afraid of seeing what’s outside that door.

Deep down, you know. You know she walked out of that door before you even opened it, you just didn’t know it then.

I hope you see it now.

I hope you walk away.

You deserve to walk away.

 

 

on walking away

And he watched her walk away in utter astonishment. He’d never seen someone walk away from him with such ease before.

She walked with her head up high, little did he know, refusing to look back. It looked so easy for her, as if he had never mattered at all.

He sat with his back slouched to the bench, thinking. Thinking of what he had just done, of who she was, and of who she would be. Thinking that he’d probably never know.

The more he thought, the further away she seemed to be. She walked step by step until she was only a distant memory in his mind. And he was right. She was.

She wouldn’t look back, ever. Not even for a second.

The moment she chose to do that, she knew she had the power to choose anything.

And with knowing that, she chose to keep walking.

Far away from the restrictions life held for her, far away from the things that tied her down to one place at a time.

She chose to do the things he always told her she couldn’t.

With the knowledge of knowing she could, she did.

She dyed her hair the way she had wanted to.  She went to that bar across the street, the one HE hated. She ate pizza for breakfast. She wrote what she thought was important. And the thing she loved the most was, she didn’t care.

She was happy.

And she made a choice to keep walking away whenever she wasn’t.

 

an open letter to the ones who hurt us

I spent most of my life feeling lost, a feeling that differs with most people. Some people refer to lost in the sense of reminiscing. For example, being a child deserted in the middle of the grocery store, desperate to find his mother.

For me, lost has meant something entirely different.

I feel lost in the sense of being myself. I know entirely who I am, yet I do everything in my power to fight the truth off. I’m lost within who I am, who I want to be, and who I am expected to be.

I find that my life has been sending me the same obstacles, over and over again. Each time, I fall a little steeper within the cracks.

For short moments, I thought I had found the answer.

Little did I know, relying on a person to save you from your own darkness can only last so long.

I have brief moments of seeing the light. When it fades, I close my eyes, and each time I do, I see you.

When I couldn’t see the good in myself, I knew one person did. You saw the good in the world, and the way you spoke of it, made me believe it was there too. You reminded me who I was, and that was something that I hadn’t been able to see for a very long time. You showed me that love existed, even in the strangest of circumstances and forms.

I thank you for those reminders, and I thank you for the person you used to be. I thank you for turning on the temporary light when I needed it the most.

Although I am grateful for those small moments of positivity, the negatives are what left me where I am today. I once was lost, but I could have been found. You left me to the point where I believed I was “permanently damaged.”

I understand now that I am not.

For a long time, you went out of your way to make me who I wasn’t. You may not have intentionally, but it confused me of everything I had once valued. You transformed the way I spoke, thought, and felt. I said less in order to be of importance to you, and I did more to impress you. I learned the arts of manipulation, and utter destruction. I apologized for things that I didn’t say (as much as you believe I did), and felt the pain that you never owned up to for causing.

I still don’t blame you, nor will I ever. Unlike you, I will always admit to the fact that I care. I will never stop caring, but I won’t let you use that for your own advantage anymore. I may always have a problem with relying on others to fill the hole you left me with, but I won’t let you dig it any deeper.

So, here’s my open letter to you,

Thank you for teaching me how to love, although it was in the worst of forms. The moments good, and bad have stuck with me every day since. I’m sorry for believing that you were the one to save me out of my own darkness. I’m sorry for saying too much, or even too little. I’m also sorry for doing whatever made you treat me the way you do today. I promise you that I will never make someone feel the way you made me feel these past years. I will probably never make someone care for me the way that you gave me the opportunity to, and I will never fall as hard as I did for you. As much as I’d love to hate you, I would be lying if I said I did. As much as I want to keep caring, I know I would be pathetic for carrying on doing so any longer.

I’m attempting to accept the fact that you are toxic for me, and I am toxic for you. I hope to one day find a relationship that has the same heightened level of feelings, but less of the sickness. I hope you find the same.

As much as I stupidly wish to be given one hundred more chances, I need to understand that you should be the one asking for them. Your silent treatments, harsh words, and actions have left me hurt over and over again.

You may not enjoy confronting your own fears and issues, but I hope you see that at some point we all have to. I wanted to be the one to help you work through them, but I now understand that I cannot. The more I tried, the worse you treated me. I hope you someday let someone see your heart for what it was, before you decided to put a shield over it.

I loved you, and probably always will. It’s an awful curse that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. At one point it was the greatest privilege in the world, but you then made it into the most toxic.

This is my oddest form of closure, writing what I would never ever have the guts to say to you. I just wanted you to know that you matter, and that you did especially to me. I wanted to you to understand that I had the highest hopes of being everything to you, and will always be saddened by the fact that I ended up being absolutely nothing.

I also refuse to sit, pine, and compare over you anymore. I’m working to understand that I deserve more, and you weren’t everything that I wanted. I wanted to be treated above averagely, and cared for beyond measure. I’m working to understand that you will never be the one open to do that. I refuse to participate in your games anymore, or let you take advantage of my vulnerability.

I no longer will be relating you to the “light” that I saw in the world, nor will I relate you to the darkness.

I appreciate the largely based impact you made on my life good, and bad.

I really am going to try to let this be my actual closure this time. I will not think about you anymore in comparison to perfectly good guys, who actually care enough to be with me. It will be hard, but I need to let you go.

So, this is me saying goodbye. I will now be repairing the damages this entire mind game left me with.