A Quote to Think on

"You learn to like someone when you find out what makes them laugh, but you can never truly love someone until you find out what makes them cry."

I think this is one of my new favorite quotes. To be honest, I'm a bit of a sucker for quotes. Sometimes I simply get online just to look them up. For some reason, it makes me feel a little more secure. I guess it's because when I read a quote which I identify with, it reminds me that there are others who sometimes feel the way I do. Other times, it's because they've said exactly what I wanted to say but couldn't find the words. 

The reason I love this quote, I can't justly explain.

Maybe because my heart believes it to be true. Knowing what brings tears to someone's eyes is usually a very intimate fact and once you reach a point where you're allowed to see that raw and vulnerable side, your relationship takes on a more personal tone. I feel if I can trust someone enough to see me cry when I'm sad, then I would struggle daily if I lost them.

But maybe not. Maybe not because my head believes it is a lie. In today's world where people who have known each other a day profess their undying love for one another and a week later have a new beloved, emotions and intimacy are kind of jokes. Take me for example. I trust too easily yet I never trust enough to give myself fully. At any given point in a relationship, I can shut myself down and walk away without blinking an eye. But when I turn my back on that person, chances are that he knows more than I should have ever let him know.

I'm not as afraid as I used to be of telling people what I really feel and how their words wound me. But I still do not cry in front of my friends because I don't want them to see me as weak or pathetic. I do not cry in front of my beloved because I don't want him to hurt as he sees my tears. I may cry in front of my immediate family but I hate myself afterwards.

This is possibly why I've yet to truly cross into that needing of each other in a relationship. Well, let me rephrase that and please don't think of me as heartless. I have an ability, as I said before, where I am able to shut myself down and not let the loss of a love affect me. But the person I'm leaving behind, he needs me. He...needs...me.

I think that scares me. I don't ever want someone to become dependent on me because what happens the day I'm not able to live up to what they want and need? Reality will come crashing down on them that I am not the wonderful, amazing person they thought I was. And I guess losing them is easier than seeing the disappointment washed upon their face.

Oh me, oh my. I seem to have rambled off a little. I do apologize. But nonetheless, it's a good quote, is it not?

Sickness

I'll make this one short and sweet. Quite sorry for being away but apparently my immune system has some unresolved and disturbing emotional issues with me. Ever since I was a young thing, I've had a problem with getting sick. Nothing so serious I became a bubble baby...well...I did have to stay in a bubble when I was a few months old for a week or two. But that's beside the point. There's no real reason I get sick so often. Apparently I'm just one of those kids, ya know?

It's like, during second grade, I missed approximately 45 days of school out of a 180 school year. That's way more than normal. Of course, even then, I was decently advanced so they couldn't justify a reason for holding me back since I was absent so many days and still had the best grades. Thank you, crappy education system. We always thought it'd get better as I got older....

We were wrong. In late December, I found out I had mono. It was actually a little surprising. I've always been a sleeper so when I started going to bed at 10pm, waking up at 8am, napping 1pm to 5pm, rinse and repeat, I didn't even notice it really. Sleep is usually my way to cope with some overwhelming stress or sadness so it's normal I go through deep sleeping phases. Then one Friday morning, well I should say afternoon since it was around 12:30pm, I awoke with a sore throat. By four, one of my tonsils became incredibly swollen and covered with those gross little white spots that I've never been able to figure out what they are. I forced my mother to take me to the doctor that evening.

I cried the whole weekend because I couldn't swallow or breathe and I was just plain miserable. Finally the test results came back and hey! I had mono. So now that it's January and I'm finally getting over the silly kissing disease, I got the sniffles. No big deal right?

Wrong. Those gosh darn sniffles turned into a sinus infection this past weekend. I had competition several hours away and instead of whining to my team members and coaches, I just sucked it up. Monday comes and I am coughing like I'm trying to give birth through my throat. I managed to drag myself to the doctor (the first time EVER by myself) and this is where I was told about the sinus infection and...

Bronchitis! Are you kidding me? I hate my immune system. Therefore, I've been in a constant state of coughing, hacking, whining, sleeping, and popping pills like they were Pez candy. It's not fun. Trust me. But I think I'm finally on the mend so I shall be posting more soon. Hopefully. If not, I've probably got pneumonia or scarlet fever.

Questions.

Do you believe innocence can ever last?

Does true love really exist?

Is beauty truly in the eye of the beholder?

Butterfly Effect

I just finished reading this book...

I doubt I have read anything more soul wrenching in my all years of reading. Now I'm sure somewhere in time and space, I have chanced upon something just as gut twisting but this story broke my heart.

Hannah Baker records the defining moments of the past few years of her life onto seven audiotapes. Thirteen stories involving several people at her school. She packs the tapes into a shoebox and mails them to the first person on the list. Then, she goes home to kill herself.

Two weeks later, Clay Jensen comes home from school to find a box with no return address leaning against his front door. Inside are seven audiotapes, their sides labeled 1 through 13 in blue nail polish. He has no idea what’s on the tapes, which is kind of exciting…until he presses PLAY.

With Hannah’s voice as his narrator, Clay spends the rest of the night wandering through town, visiting places mentioned on the tapes, unearthing the thirteen reasons why Hannah chose to kill herself. And one reason belongs to him...

The worst part of the whole story is, and this might be considered a spoiler to some, there was not a single good reason she should have taken her life. It was essentially a snowball effect in which one rumor started the spiral of her high school life down and down and down until there was no light left for her to find the way back.

For someone who has had numerous rumors about her told and spread like a horribly infectious virus, I literally had to hold back my tears because I know exactly where Hannah came from and all the miserable things she felt. The other day, a group of friends and I went to lunch. This one boy whom I've known since kindergarten and had played at his house all through elementary school informed me that when I transferred schools my freshman year of high school, the rumor started that I had left because I had been through every boy there and needed new ones.

Up until I transferred, I had only had one boyfriend for about a month the previous year. Sure there were kids I had crushes on and girl friends who I discussed these little puppy love fantasies with but how in the world could people possibly have called me a whore and a slut so early on?

Understandably now, if they call me those names, I no longer flinch because I suppose I have given some reason in a small way. I'm not saying I've slept with all the guys in the tri-county area but yes, I have had more boyfriends than I can count on one hand, possibly two depending on your definition of a boyfriend and a relationship. But in high school, why should this stuff matter so much?

I'll tell you this. It shouldn't. It does but it should not. So many boys and girls grow up damaged and scarred forever because of the trauma they are forced to experience every single day of high school. I've been gone from that school for essentially two years and I can still go to a bathroom and see my name scrawled on the stall, calling me a whore or a slut or a tramp. I try not to let it bother me as it once did and it helps that I've somehow managed to attract some pretty awesome people as friends.

Still, after reading this book, I guess the reason it affected me so much was because I reached out and took a second chance. Hannah just waited and waited for someone to come and offer her one. It was kind of like reading about if I had just changed that one night.

I highly recommend it, even if you aren't a silly emotional girl.

Heart Breaker

I got a new bottle of nail polish. It isn't really my style but the name is what captured my attention. The color is a pale aqua with sparkles mixed. When the brush glide across my nail, it appears clear with a tint of the sea and it shines like a thousand stars, like a thousand tears. But it is beautiful.

You're its namesake, didn't you know? Did you even know you broke my heart?

Maybe it'll disappear down the side of my bed or under the dresser. It might run and hide at the mere thought of getting close to me once more. That seems to be your trademark. Who is to say the nail polish will not follow suit?

The people you hang out with are the people who turn their noses up at girls like me. And we both know you know this. Isn't that why I've never met your best friend? I bet he doesn't even know the sweet nothings you whisper to me. I'm probably a joke to him like I know I am to you.

This nail polish is not my style. It is not what I want nor what I need.

You are not my style.

But why is it you are what I want and what I need?

Blessed Butterflies

The beats of my heart have a rhythm
To which the swirls of my blood dance.
A melody flutters, like a butterfly, catches me.
Part wishes to be swept away to neverland,
Part knows, with you, I will always remain.

Tell tales of love and romance and ecstasy
From lands across the sea, over the mountains.
None can compare to the story woven
In the air between your sorrel eyes and mine.
It is enough to give peonage a gentle caress.

Your sweet nothing words stir inside of me
Where they dream, waiting for a rainy day.
Blessed butterflies spoken by your lips,
The lips that my soul longs to but never taste,
Blessed butterflies fly free inside.

Heavens may be the sky’s limit
But soaring beyond is no bound to my spirit
Though being yours, I never will know,
Moments stolen and stored between are wings
Given by you to me, to blessed butterflies.

New Year Resolutions

Dear 2011,

             It's true we haven't known each other long but I have a few teensy, weensy, tiny requests. My last year, 2010, don't get me wrong, it was great. But some things didn't go so well and in my opinion, you and I can do it better this time around. As long as you listen to me and do everything I say the minute I say it so I don't have to hit you again! Just kidding. Wow. Bad joke. I apologize, 2011. I thought it would be a little while before I humiliated myself in front of you.
             First of all, please help me stop drinking soft drinks. They are an addiction and I've yet to find a support group for it. While I love them and need them, every time I go a few days without a sip of Dr. Pepper, the withdrawals become a bitch. So I quench my thirst and once again, I'm a lovely little lady again. But then I get the notion to take my addiction and heavily BDSM it. Sadly, I've been unable to control this on my own. However, together, I think we can beat my disease in the coming months, hopefully weeks.
             And I have this list of books I want to read. Can you please try not to have so many wonderful things happen when I want to focus on reading? 2010 and I had this problem. It really frustrated me. Every time I would settle down in a comfy position and crack open a new novel, something would come along and sweep me away. Since I am very easily distracted, it would take me weeks, if not months, to return to my intellectual pursuits. That's a lie. They were pleasure pursuits which sound kind of dirty but they weren't. Usually...
             Thirdly, let me know if "thirdly" is a word. 2010 never corrected me on spelling and grammar mistakes which tends to frustrate me. Let us expand our vernacular. We shall cultivate our intellect and acquire a Word of the Day calendar or something of that sort, eh?
             Now, don't get jealous, but I have this blog, okay? And I'm sad to say I'm not as dedicated as I was once. Like with reading and distractions, 2010 didn't allow me much free time to write or scribble or tell little tidbits of my life to strangers  unknown friends on the interwebs. Please help me change this. I know you'll be more understanding than my last year as it dwindled down. Maybe three times a week minimum? That doesn't sound too hard.
             And maybe, maybe if it isn't too much trouble, by summer, can I wear a bikini? I mean I could wear one now and I did last summer without blinding anyone but for once, I'd like to wear a bikini and not constantly glance over my shoulder to assure myself no one is vomitting in disgust. Yes, I know nearly all girls want to lose weight and a vast amount of guys do as well. I'm a bit cliché in that way. (And it's true sometimes I do rhyme.) We can renew our Y membership that expired two months ago and work on that "bootay". Is that how the kids are saying it these days? Ya know I can never keep up.
             Okay, 2011, I think that's it. I hope so at least. I'll be graduating this May from community college and high school in June as well as turning 18. This fall, I'll be living hours from home with a complete stranger. She might sleep walk or leave thongs lying around or let mildew grow in our room or have sex with random guys during the middle of the night when she thinks I'm sleeping but oh no, I'll hear every sound. What if I become that girl?!? 2011, let's be careful.

Love,

Me