just a crayon

My fault.

It’s always my fault. This phrase has been ingrained in my mind ever since the third grade. I had borrowed my friend’s favorite green crayon and lost it. We both lost something that day. I lost a friend, and she lost a crayon. I cried and pleaded with her to stop being angry with me. I even ran to the store to get her a new one (for $1.75). She eventually forgave me after that, but things were never the same since then.

Everybody leaves. It’s inevitable, really. I know that by now. And with every passing person that discards me, it gets a little easier. It hurts a little less.

I have lost so many best friends over the past eighteen years of my life. I have lost so many friends I used to call family. But I suppose, if I’ve lost them, then maybe they weren’t family after all.

Maybe it was me, maybe it was them – maybe it was a number of factors that I could have never understood or the timing “just wasn’t right.” I know that a lot of times people make decisions, it is based on them – it isn’t really about me at all. But what if it is about me? What if I said too many things – too many stupid things that I couldn’t take back?

Sometimes I wonder if people can be addicted to being alone. It’s easy, you know? To live life so unafraid of what other people think because no matter what they say, they don’t truly know you. But here’s the truth. I am afraid. I am so afraid that I am the reason that people leave. That all my failed relationships and friendships have been snuffed out because of me.

What if it is my fault? What if this whole time I’ve been trying to blame external factors when it just simply is my fault? Then what? Tell me, dear readers, because I am stuck. Tell me what I can do, what I can say to make everything better because this time, I don’t think it’s going to be just a crayon that I am losing.

a letter to my future self

I was looking through some of my notes and found this lovely gem that I wrote to myself. God, I’m so weird sometimes.

I was debating whether or not to post this… But since I’m trying to be more honest here I figured, eh why not? So, dear readers, here is a little peek inside my head. Enjoy.

Hey me, whaddup? This has been such a recurring trend that honestly I really love. How are you feeling? Think carefully about the answer because you can’t bullshit me (well, yourself, really). If you aren’t feeling too good – DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. You’re always feeling sad. This is not a bad thing. It is a fact. Now the good thing is that you’re so much more prepared than the average girl. You’ve got this and you know it. Take a deep breath. Try to center yourself. Feel your eyes follow every curve and line on this page. Breathe in and out as you trace your eyes on the motion of the words. You are okay. You are okay. Mom and dad love you so much. Past you loves you so much! Barry Allen loves you so much! If you’re still into that… Which I hope you are. Please don’t forget to pick up a book sometime! You know how much you love that. Don’t force yourself to do things you don’t like for people who do not care about you. People are so fucking stupid, but you know what? You can ignore them. Stay inside. Treat yourself. Take care of yourself! Stop putting others ahead of you, okay? The world is a terrible place sometimes, but you are so strong. You are going to make it. Now matter how low you think you’ve dropped, you can always pick yourself up and try again. You can do this. Just take a deep breath. Take it day by day. Don’t forget to look up. Look at the stars once in a while. Appreciate life and all it has to offer. You are lucky, you are loved.

Love, September 28, 2017 me

P.S. Go to the gym too – run on the track, it’s sooo healthy

P.S.S. Call dad sometime

If you liked this post, check out part 2 of “a letter to my future self” here. Thanks for reading!

march 11

I haven’t been fair. Not to the world. Not to myself. When I started this blog, I wanted to try something I’ve always wanted to do – I wanted to be honest. And I have been. Sort of. It’s not that I’ve lied. Because I haven’t. It’s more like I haven’t been saying everything that’s been going on in my mind. And there is a lot. I don’t know where to start. So here goes nothing.

I am currently sitting in a small plane flying from LAX to Logan. Dena is sitting at 14A and I am nineteen rows behind her. And I feel so small. I am sitting between two passengers – my least favorite spot. I cannot look out the window and pretend that am a part of the sky. I cannot leave quickly because I am not sitting by the aisle. Instead, I am stuck. All I can see are the cabins and heads of other passengers who I do not know in the dimly lit plane. I don’t mean that I feel small because I’m sandwiched between two passengers. I feel small because I am unnoticed. To everyone, I am not the girl who is thinking about how the plane can plummet at any second. I am not the girl who is thinking about what she will be leaving behind if she dies. What people will think of her, what they will remember when she is gone. No, I am just the girl, frantically typing away at the keyboard, trying to get her thoughts out faster than spilled water. I am the girl, sitting at 33B, whose face is lit up by the fluorescent screen in front of her. The girl whose life is unraveling and unwinding a dropped ball of yarn and all she can do is stare as it tumbles down and down – untangling all the hard work she’s done.

I feel small because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Yes, I am supposed to go to school, do work, get rest, and repeat everything. But it just gets so pointless sometimes. Some days I wake up with such a rage – I want to change the world – no, fix it. I want to fix the world and rid it from all the madness and injustice. I am angry about Parkland. I am angry for the Dreamers. I am angry. Those days are the days I wake up and work hard in hopes that I will be able to save these people – these children, one day. But why is it that when I have “glory days” I must have the opposite? Some days I cannot get out of bed to even go downstairs. I feel so unmotivated sometimes. I think I need to find a reason to wake up.

But until then, what am I going to do? I am stuck. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck.

— I want to be honest but it is so hard when the world is so cruel