Heavy Storms

  I personally do not have very many dreams I can remember in the morning, so when I do remember I feel as though I'm trying to tell myself something. Like they have a meaning to them. Because of this train of thought, I can always find an explanation. For example, the last overly vivid dream I had was when I was watching from above or inside this guy(i didn't know) who had some connection with law enforcement. He was in this dark, abandoned looking room with two crack addicts, and they asked him if he wanted to sniff. The girl offered her hand out in front of her toward him. He of course said no thank you. She pulled in her arm from her sleeve, but the sleeve continued to stay out in front of her, shaking, while she sniffed with her hand in her clothes at the neck of her shirt. He somehow knew she was going to implode from her torso, so he quickly took cover. I witnessed her torso explode and she was still alive. He realized he was in danger and tried getting out and ran toward the main like area where he would see the exit. He stopped. The basement door to his right, a long corridor to his left, and a main entrance where the door and window were boarded up with a speck of light peeking through the cracks. He panicked, but realized he wasn't going anywhere, and turned around to find the whole pack of zombie-like crack addicts (including the girl who exploded) behind him, waiting. They wanted to force him to do drugs. Then I had one of those sit up to wake up sorta of wake ups. I was shaking, hyperventilating, and scared for my life. I couldn't close my eyes or I would see the boarded up door and windows.
  The next day, I was thinking over my dream. I realized how dumb it was to be so terrified over, so I thought about why it made me so scared. After a while, I made the connection. My best friend(BroZone Guy) and I were talking about how we feel about drugs. I told him my worry of feeling left behind when/if my friends all try weed together. I'm very "pure." I'm not really interested in smoking weed, or trying any drugs, and I'm not so interested in illegally drinking as a minor, and I don't want to be interested. I can honestly wait til I'm of legal age, or at least out of high school. The only problem is that I have realized none of my friends can help me through this peer pressure I have to go through. No one my age can tell me that they are right there with me, resisting too. So while talking to BroZone Guy, I realized he actually feels the same about drugs and alcohol the same way I do. He reassured me that he will always be here to talk to about anything and everything, especially when I feel pressured because he will stop me from doing anything I will regret and take some of that peer pressure away. I feel like he's the only who really understands how much pressure I'm under sometimes, and how terrified I am to go through it alone, which ties into my dream.
  The guy is alone in a crack house, and I feel like I'm dealing with peer pressure alone. The zombie like crack addicts are supposed to be my friends. Sometimes I feel trapped, and one day I will be close to giving in. I feel like my friends are forcing me to do this, even though I know they aren't. They really don't care that I choose not to do those things. I was so terrified of my dream because I'm scared to be put in a situation with a lot of peer pressure and I won't have BroZone with me to make me feel less on my own. I'm just honestly horrified if I ever have to go against (what seems like) the rest of the world all by myself. I just don't know if I will have enough self confidence and motivation to say what I'm doing is right for me, if its really what I want.

The storm always seems more bearable with someone enduring it with you.

The "Bro Zone"

  The "Bro Zone"- when a girl gets put in the friend zone by a guy and is the best friend 99% of the time opposed to being the girlfriend 1% of the time

  The "Bro Zone" is where I'm at. For as long as I can remember, I have always been in the bro zone. I assure you, it's not because I'm too bro like, or tom boy, or just undateable. From what i hear through my friends and close guy friends, in all honesty, guys think im cute, or hot, or attractive whatever. (I'm simply restating what I have heard. Please don't judge me for big headedness, or egomania) They all know I'm really chill and easy to talk to. They know I'm dependable and not shallow. But even though, I'm stuck in the bro zone. The stupid bro zone.
  Every guy I have ever liked, has put me in the bro zone. I will flirt and get to know them. I will get so comfortable and close, and then find out through all this time they started to like one of my girlfriends instead. It's hard, and it's even harder when I help them get with them. I am one of those people who are above getting mad about liking my ex/guy i currently like or "following the code." I am one of those people who believes everyone deserves to have what will make them happy. So as the best friend I am, I help them get close to those girls they like while secretly crying myself to sleep. I will always be the girl listening to him complain about the girl I wish I could be. Dark, i know, but it's just the truth.
  Recently, I've kinda had a crush on this guy for like a year. We hit it off after a while in the beginning of summer, but then we just kind of stopped talking. We were still best friends after, but then recently he started to act exactly like he did when he liked me, so i started to like him too. Well, turns out I read it all wrong. (oops) I found out when he told me he liked this freshman girl. I wasn't bitter, but it did sting. I was giving him advice of what he should do, how to find things to talk to her about, and just advice like that. He still has no idea. Kinda hurts to think about, but life goes on right? Hopefully one day outside of the bro zone.
  I admit, I feel like a hypocrite because I put guys in the friend zone all the time. The guys who like me are the guys who literally are like family. They just aren't my type. I see where this turns around on me. The guys I like probably think the same about me. The thing is, I'm picky about who I like or date. I have to have a physical attraction for me to consider liking them, or some emotional attraction I can't explain. I don't have that attraction very often. I'm a person who always has more guy friends then girl friends but I get along with everyone. Usually, the only guys I like are the ones who I have an attraction to off the bat. You know, when I first meet them. Otherwise, from there on out I will just think of them as a friend. A different relationship will be built.
  I don't quite understand why I am always stuck in the bro zone. Maybe someday someone can explain it to me, but until then the "bro zone" sucks. I am always here. So guys out there, if you want me, I'll be in the bro zone.

5'2" and 113 Pounds

  At dinner today, my brother brought up how "fat" I am and how much I eat. I come back with "Yesterday , I barely ate." He replied with a good job and I still need to eat less to not be fat. I'm a size one in almost everything. I'm 5'2" and weigh 113 pounds. My rib cage is barely 32 inches. My waist is barely 28. I'm not fat. That's obvious. It's days like these I debate whether to eat anymore.
  I admit I have recently gained weight and I'm aware. I look in the mirror and wonder why I let myself gain a few pounds, but an outside view wouldn't see the weight I've gained. I haven't been the most dedicated to work out lately because of my busy schedule, but  I promise myself to get back to working out at least twice a week again. I didn't let myself choose to starve or change my eating habits, because I'm finally eating at the right times of day and the amount I need for the energy I need for the rest of the day.
  Nights like these I wish I could just stop eating. These nights, I have an empty feeling and food haunts me. I know it will never fill me and I find none of it appealing, but I want to eat. I want to fill the insatiable empty feeling. I see every little detail wrong about me. I see every inch I need to shed to feel skinny again. I work out over and over and over again until my body aches and I have no energy to workout once more, but I am still not satisfied with what I see. The "fat insults" come back to mind. They linger and echo. Water comes to my eyes, and I curl up in a ball and try to stop the tears. All I can think about are ways to lose weight. Ways to be skinny. Ways to stop the fat comments. I think about this until sleep quietly creeps onto my conscious mind.
  I know probably more ways to lose weight than most. I know different combinations. I know certain foods that speed up your metabolism. I know foods that slow your metabolism down. I know ways to clean out your system of extra weight. I know the right foods to eat. I find fast food and fattening food disgusting because it would guide me toward my fat nightmare. I know the right workouts. I know not to sleep or lay down after eating. I know habits that make you gain weight. I know foods and drinks that make you feel more full with less bites. I know the types of pills you can take to help you speed up your metabolism, to lose weight faster, to make you feel more full, to stop your hunger, and etc. I know all the tricks.
  I do use some of these tricks to help me not gain weight and sometimes to lose weight, like the right foods and workouts. I don't use the pills or unnatural (and usually unhealthy) ways to lose weight. I wish I was at the stage in my life where my weight does not haunt me. I wish it didn't constantly bother me. I wish I felt beautiful. I wish I could ignore those people like my brother who say I'm fat or I eat to much. I wish I could forget when someone commented about my weight. I wish those comments never registered into my mind. I wish I could look in the mirror and be happy with what I see. Even when I'm considered skinny, I'm never happy. I suck my tummy in the mirror and show myself how skinny I want to be. My new goal. It's really sad actually. I wish I didn't have to make a skinnier goal for myself. I want to stop that nagging voice in my head that constantly tells me to starving myself means happiness. I wish I could stop wanting to give in to that voice. When the day comes that my weight does not cross my mind and I feel beautiful, I can honestly say I am happy.

I wish eating was easier

I Just Want Your Approval

  Everyone has that one person they all try to impress. We all look for approval from someone. For some of us, it's the one person who just doesn't you're good enough. That's the sad part of it all. Everyone says if you aren't good enough for someone they aren't worth the effort. Well what if that person is your mom, or your dad? What do you do then?
  Parents are supposed to support you through every storm. They are supposed to be your lighthouse in the endless sea. The guide through the dark. The hand that never lets go in the windy storm. The little voice telling you you can do it. However, not everyone is lucky with parents who support you. Some are unfortunate to have parents that are still children inside. They still expect to be pampered and babied. They never grew up and sometimes forget the responsibilities they have now. They like to blame others for everything and want someone else to fix their problems.
  My mom is a good person. She's sweet and once was my idol. She spoils me, and she loves me deep down. She wants whats best for me, but she doesn't deem anything I do right. She doesn't appreciate the fact I cleaned her room or did the dishes, but she yells at me for not doing a better job. When she's home, she's never up for doing anything with me, but when I'm busy with track or drama or work, she says I never make time for her. When my day is going great, she brings it down by reminding me of something I did a year ago that I still feel guilty about. She cries and claims I'm a horrible daughter who's embarrassed of their mom, even though I tell her the dates of all my concerts, my shows, my meets, and all those things but she says wont be able to make it. She doesn't tell me good job on lettering in academics or placing at a meet or getting a big role in a play, but she makes a big deal if my brother gets a hit in football (again) or my sister gets all a's (she always does). She gets mad at me for not eating breakfast at home, but she asks me what I want for breakfast at the same time everyday when I'm about to get picked up for school. She notices every little detail I do wrong, and reminds me of them for weeks.
  All I want to be is good enough. If my brothers start a fight with me, its my fault. After a week of doing everything wrong, if I ask her if I did it right for her approval, her support, she just yells at me. She says I'm ungrateful, but I always talk about how lucky I really am. When I admit to doing something wrong, she rubs it in my face and proves me wrong even further. If she was wrong, I don't explain further, but she throws a fit.
  My mom is the type of person who laughs and giggles all the time. She will jump up and down like a little kid. She will laugh at the dumbest jokes. She sings about what shes doing. She's one of those moms your friends wish they had. She's a very happy spirit. She dances and reminds you of a child. She forgets to throw away her trash or put away her dishes. She forgets to close the bottle of coca-cola all the way, and leaves the cookies out in the open to harden. She leaves the computer on, and puts her clothes on the bedroom or bathroom floor when they are dirty. She's the kind of person who needs everything explained to them and talks constantly during movies. For the past 8 years of my life, I have been watching over her. I have been the mother and she has been the child. I fold her clothes. I watch oer my brother and sister. I give them money for food and the movies. I give my mom money for whatever she asks. I wash the dog. I clean up after her messes and wash the dishes. I have been the one helping my siblings with their homework and cleaning the kitchen. I held my mom as she cried for my grandma and when we had money trouble. I made food when my parents were at work. She didn't notice when I stopped eating, I got myself to start again. I noticed when my brother was overly tired and burning himself out. I've taken the blame for all her little mistakes and big mistakes that she's decided to not take blame for. I do this all without a word. I will be stressed and want time alone, but she will find this a time to call me out and say I'm ungrateful and disrespectful.
  There's nothing I can do. I can't stand up for myself to my mom. No one can, they will lose everytime. Your parents will always have a type of superiority over you. All you can do is accept it and take it if they are wrong. I know I'm still luckier than most people. My parents aren't abusing me or neglecting me. My parents didn't leave me. We don't live a poor life. They spoil me. They don't ground me. They let me go almost everywhere. They don't drink, or smoke, or chew. They are loyal to each other. In a way, I have no reason to complain, but I can't help but to wish my mom would just be proud of me. I want her to tell me that I am good enough. That I am not the most ungrateful, disrespectful, worst daughter in the world. I wish she could show me that she thinks I am actually turning into the person she hopes I would be.

I just want your approval.

Homecoming

  So homecoming for my school is literally just around the corner. It's next Saturday. So, you know what that means, homecoming royalty. oh joy. I'll be honest, our school's homecomings suck ass, but regardless I still go and get excited and look for the right dress and hope to get a date. Now when it come to homecoming royalty, I really don't care. If you win, good for you! You just won the most pointless popularity contest. I honestly think the only time homecoming royalty will really matter is when were seniors and we can get crowned king or queen. I mean ten years from now are you really gonna say, "I won freshman participant for homecoming my freshman year." Or something else that isn't king or queen? I don't think so, but there are still those people who have to make a big deal about it. They want to win. They have so much already, and they have to have this too.
  Sadly enough, a handful of these people are my friends. Actually all the people on homecoming royalty each year are. Leopard Stilettos freaked out on me for not voting for her. Royalty isn't really something you run for, it's just something that happens. She was really mad at me, and it was pointless. No one cares who wins anyway. A few other friends will tell people at lunch to vote for them. It's crazy how superficial this contest is. One of my friends is so sure that she will win. She's become full of herself about it and doesn't doubt that she will win.
  I'm just happy to say one of my friends was voted for, but he doesn't want to win. He doesn't want more attention than he's already been given. He sees it as pointless too. He's been asking our close friends to not vote for him. He doesn't want it.
  I admit, it would be nice to win. It would be nice to be recognized as worthy to get it, and that people know my name. I'm not saying I'm this popular person, but I'm friends with almost everyone or at least nice. Secretly, yes I want to win one year, but not because I told people I want to, but because they wanted me to. I rather be openly voted for without me having to say anything. I found out that I did get nomination votes this year, quite a few apparently, but not enough to get on top 10. I'm totally okay with that, but it just felt good to know people voted for me, especially since I have never really showed interest in being homecoming royalty. It also felt good when people asked me if I was on royalty, as if they expected it, and when they were surprised to find that I wasn't.
  So homecoming, not a big deal. Why can't we make that values commercial real? The one where the girl with down-syndrome wins homecoming queen? Why can't we make that a reality without accidentally offending them? I mean last year a guy who can't play sports and has this disorder won and he didn't get offended. He won fair and square and I'm sure people voted for him! He's a sweetheart and is so funny. Why can't that happen more often? Why does it have to be a superficial popularity contest? In popularity contests, the same people always wins. Where's the surprise in that?

Leopard Stilettos

  So I have this friend, the attention seeking one with a boyfriend from my previous post, and she is becoming more superficial by the moment. She has to be perfect. She's one of those girls who thinks they're the shit, but they won't admit it because everyone hates that. She annoys me so bad, and to be honest I'm only friends with her still because 6 years ago I promised I would always stay by her side. On top of that we made this group called "the clan" (one of our very dumb and hilarious moments) and it's like life-long commitment to stay friends, but if someone really wants out, they can leave. We aren't holding them captive. A friend did leave, but anyways back to my friend. She is obsessed with having her own unique style. She has to be different and has to be noticeable. She tries way to hard to be different. She freaks out if someone she doesn't know has the same pair of jeans and claims they copied her. That's how obsessed she is. She claims everyone is copying her, and it bugs me SO much! I can't get something that is remotely close to her style without her saying I copied her. The truth is, I didn't. Any change comes from the influence of my mom's style in clothes and accessories.

  For example, one day I was with my friend who I will name Italian Stallion. Italian Stallion and I were homecoming dress scouting online. I was set on a red dress this year, for my school's homecoming. So when I couldn't find cute ideas online, I realized my mom's red dress is about my size. It's a size 5, but I'm a size 1-3 sometimes 4. So I tried it on and it fit pretty well, so I got excited and Italian Stallion decided this was gonna be my homecoming dress. I mean talk about saving money and time! I showed my mom and she pulled out her leopard stilettos. She told em to try them on. They fit perfectly. It looked super cute, but kinda out of my range of style. I wanted it to reflect my sense in fashion and yes this would totally show it, but the leopard print itself was not me. Stallion and my mom kept trying to get me to persuade me to wear it together for homecoming. A part of me wanted to because of the fashion sense, but a part of me didn't because well it just wasn't me. I told them I would think about it. Then I realized leopard print was my attention seeking friend's style, and she would freak if I even thought about it. I shared this with Stallion and my mom. Stallion and I had to explain to my mom the complication and annoyance of her obsession of her style and how hard she tries to make sure she stands out. My mom simply gave me advice and said, "You wear what you want. Don't let her control your style. Your style is your style, her is hers. You will wear what you wanna wear because you wanna wear it, and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise can just grow up." So I kept the shoes in my room by my red dress and my other shoes with my other dress. 

  The day of my party, my attention seeking friend came into my room to change into her swim suit and I came with her. As soon as she stepped into my room, she went straight to the leopard stilettos in the box close to my dress. She was ready to freak out on me for "trying to steal her style."

     She picked them up and cold and curtly said, "When did you get these?"

     I replied calmly but cold, "Those are my mom's. She's had those for a long time, like a year or two now.              You can ask her."

     She quickly rebounded back not convinced, "oh.."

     Annoyed, I explained, "Stallion and my mom said I should wear it with my red homecoming dress, but I don't know yet. I might not, it's not really my style, but it's super cute."

      She sharply replied, "Yeah. They aren't." 

  I could see in her face she thought that I had gone out and bought them, because I wanted to be just like her. I don't. Actually, I don't want to be anything like her. Like I said before she's obsessed with her style and is an attention seeker and thinks she better than everyone else. Did I mention she's in love with herself? She's also one of those girls who has to match completely. Like if a shirt isn't the same color as her shoes she freaks out. She doesn't understand complimenting colors and when I do something very fashionable and something you might see in a fashion magazine, she tells me I match. I believe the point of fashion is that it doesn't always match and sometimes it does clash, but in an eye appealing way. I'm not scared to try something new. She is one of those super safe people when it comes to clothes, and I hate it when she tries telling me how I should match when I do match in a more fashionable way. (I am going to call this attention seeker Leopard Stilettos from now on, just letting you know)

  She can say I copy her, but I don't. The style I have comes from the style my mom has always had. She can say I got into heels because she did, but my mom has been trying to get me to like heels for years before I even met her. She can say I copied her "pirate boots" which are tall cloth slouch boots by getting heeled steve madden leather boots, but I had low cut black slouch boots a year before she did. Besides the shoes she claims is a copy of hers, don't look remotely the same. Hers are cloth and flat. Mine are leather, heeled, and have buckles. If anything she copied my black slouch boots, but I don't care. They're super comfy and cute. I can't wear my mom's old keds without her freaking out and saying I copied her. My mom has had them since I was born. It just really bugs me! And I'm not the only one. When I go shopping with Stallion and other members of the clan we have this joke every time we try something on. I will try something on and show Stallion and tell her, "Well I better not get this or Leopard Stilettos will get pissed and say I'm copying her!" We always crack up, because the truth is we don't care what she thinks. When I explain it to friends who don't know her, they think it's ridiculous and they say they have never heard of that.

  To her, I can't be touched. I can't get bitched out because she knows my mom's sense of style exceeds hers and that's exactly where I get it from. She knows my mom comes home at least 4 times a month and brings home some cute shirt of piece of clothing that she thought I would like and sometimes overlaps with her style. She knows I am more fashionable then her, because fashion is kind of my life dream. She knows I don't need to try to change my style into something unique, because it just happens. I try things other people my age wouldn't try because they're scared what people will say. I don't care as much if you don't like my style because it's mine, not yours. Fashion is my life, that's one thing she can't say I got from her. It's the only thing I know I can always be better at. It's my form of confidence, and no one can steal that from me.

  Am I the only one with a friend like this? I mean is it wrong for me to be so annoyed by this? Is it wrong I talk about her like this? She's just so superficial and always has to be the center of attention, but I guess that doesn't justify talking behind her back. Leopard stilettos, if you ever read this, please accept the fact that not everyone wants to be you and wants to copy you. I'm definitely not one of them. I have my own person to be.

Party Rock Anthem

  So over the weekend I had a party, and by far it was one of my loudest. I'm not a party host who allows alcohol, because well lets just say my life would be over if i did and it's against my morals. Most of my friends don't need it anyway, they're crazy enough when they're not drunk. Without alcohol my parties still get crazy and loud. I have a hot tub, fire pit, huge backyard, patio, a big main floor, and a fairly large finished basement with a plasma screen and surround sound. My friends call it a party house, and my parties are always a success (**knock on wood**).
  So planning is the part I always put off. Usually I just texted everyone all the details of the party, but since everyone was obsessed with attending events on facebook, I made a facebook event. I created four rules from knowledge of the past parties:
          No hooking up in my hot tub, do it elsewhere..
          No peeing in the hot tub
          No swim suit no hot tub
          Fight, I'll kick you out
  The first two is just gross, because I would just have to empty the hot tub and scrub it down. So I texted everyone to check their facebooks. Of course people start talking about my party, and people who weren't invited start texting me. Some people just assumed they were invited, so they simply asked what time the party was. I never replied. I mean talk about rude.. Some freaked out on me, and I didn't reply to that either. That won't make me want to invite you. Someone asked me to invite this chick I don't really talk to so they could hookup and so she could cheat on their boyfriend (are you stupid?). Cleaning was easy, I do that in my sleep. I loved the people who offered to help me! They came early to help get ready, but I had already finished cleaning by then!

  So it's party time now right? Well people were arriving, and it started out in the basement with mario kart? Totally not what I had expected. Eventually half the party moved to the hot tub and upstairs. I set out the food, and people started eating. Soon enough people started playing truth or dare in my hot tub, me including. Thank goodness they didn't hookup in there. Downstairs they made a pyramid, and everyone was kinda just doing their own thing. It started to rain, and everyone wanted to go inside, but I wanted to play in the rain. A few guy friends and I played half tackle football in the rain. By the time we went inside I was soaked to the bone. The whole party went on, everyone doing their own thing and having a good time.
  There were these two friends of mine who are attention seekers. They have to have the attention of all the guys. They need to feel like the shit all the time, because they think they are. So once most of the party moved upstairs to the main floor, they both kept trying to get someone to go upstairs to most of the party and to tell them that they were making out with each other; they weren't. No one would do it, because they knew they just wanted attention. Later they had this bright idea, lets go change into our swimsuit and run outside in the (nonexistent) rain, and they made a big announcement about it. No one honestly cared. The whole party they would try walking into a group of guys and trying to be the center of attention and the guys would eventually leave them there. These chicks are super pretty. Like makeup pretty, but pretty. All the guys do think their hot, but one of them has a boyfriend and the other thinks she has a thing with a guy who only sees her as a hookup buddy. (The guy isn't a player, he's just not interested, but he doesn't wanna give up the chance to do stuff with a hot chick who keeps putting herself out there.) And believe it or not, they were getting mad at me? They apparently wanted to yell at me at my own party. I wasn't ruining the party. I was enjoying it, but I would take my rounds and scout out and make a few adjustments, like turn down the radio just a little, put away breakable items that were taken out, put out some towels, and do a few favors for my guests. I don't know what I did to piss them off, maybe it was because the guys were complimenting my boobs and I would always be in a group of guys talking, and they got jealous because they think that maybe I don't deserve that attention. They both think they're better than me, and I think so too. Don't get me wrong I accept myself, and try to love myself most of the time, but it's one of those times where you know you're beat. I'm not sure what they thought of the party, but everyone else was happy with it, so I don't really care.
  Towards the end (like the last 20 minutes), I was kinda all partied out. I was done with the party and ready to clean up and kick out people. That might sound really bad. So I started to clean up and refused to allow anyone to help, even though they still did without my consent. I finished the upstairs in about 5 mins. So I kinda just sat in the dining room with a couple friends talking. A few other guy friends came upstairs and sat at the table with me and we started talking and this fly was bugging me. So I left and grabbed this tennis racket looking fly zapper. It literally zaps bugs in the air, and the guys ahd so much fun with it. It was hilarious until they left. And soon enough all my guest were leaving and I was saying goodbye and hugs and all that.
  Overall, it was a successful party. A little annoyance every now and then, but nothing to ruin the mood. I did end up sick from playing in the 60 mph wind and rain, but it was worth it. Cleaning up, I found blankets and a pillow in the basement shower, towels in the bushes, spare mattress against the basement wall, juice boxes everywhere, a lanyard without an owner, a few pairs of wet trunks, wet shirt, sticky notes everywhere, a broken pop up closet, and a wet pillow in the stairs. It was all easy to clean, except the broken pop up closet, but no biggie; it's fixed. Yesterday I played hide and seek with the towels all around the house so I could wash them. And everyone posted and complimented me on my party.

No matter how much of a pain in the ass it was, it was worth it. Good way to end the summer. 

Young Love

  It’s funny what they say about love. That teenagers are too young to feel it. They’re naive. I beg to differ, but it could be the biased thoughts each person is cursed with. I am a teenager, and I refuse to believe I have not experienced love. Love is something inside you that brightens every dark corner in your life. It’s warm and reassuring. It feels safe, but at the same time it’s one of the scariest things on this earth. It’s a wonderfully heart-breaking contradiction that doesn’t make sense at all. Love is endless, so I refuse to believe you are only meant to truly love one person. Us teenagers, we fall in love over and over again. It is mostly true, we are naive, but that doesn’t make us incapable of feeling love; of loving another. We do fall in love so easily. Some of us, not so easily. We fall in love with little things, like songs or ambitions. We fall in love with the wrong people. It’s another part of living; learning. After a few broken hearts, we realize what is the difference between loving someone and being loved. After someone who truly loved us lets us go for our happiness, we will know. We will realize that what we had with them was real. It was so real, so good, that we wont settle for less anymore. We will look past those empty promises. We will be unhappy for a while. We’ll feel lost in this world, but one day I hope someone shows you there is another chance of happiness. You’re first love isn’t your last. Love last forever. You can love your first love always and still fall in love with another. Loving someone and being in love aren’t the same. In love, is what makes you feel warm and safe. We will fall in love again with someone who will fall in love with us as well, and maybe this time will be the last. We will know when we see the same look in our eyes in theirs. You don’t need to be grown up to feel love. If it’s meant to be, it will be. No one knows how you feel, so no one can say you aren’t in love. They can’t say you don’t love someone. They can’t use your age as an explanation. Only you can. Love is Love. It is what it is, but don’t rush into it. If they are in love with you now, they will be in love with you in 3 years, in 10 years. Don’t rush. That’s what makes our parents, our authority figures think we are naive when it comes to love. We are impatient. Teenagers don’t want something this good to slip away, but if it’s really here to stay, it will. So teenagers in love out there, I believe you, and I am happy that you found love regardless what people say, but listen to me; don’t rush love. Get married when you are ready, when you are truly ready. Hold it off until you know, until it is right. You will know.

I am a teenager, and I have felt love. I have been in love, and I have been broken to pieces. No one came to my rescue to help me pick up the pieces. I did it on my own, and I became stronger. I’m stronger now knowing my first love isn’t my last. I'm not sour anymore about love, and I'm not scared to fall in love again when love finds me. I'm not searching for love anymore, and my world seems so much brighter.

"You're Roughly Six Feet Tall"

  Today was one of those days where everything that could go wrong did. Bad luck hovered over my head all day. I was tired and annoyed of it. When I finally got home, I blew off steam to my friend and realized the bad day I was having wasn't as bad as I made myself think. I was just so annoyed with the lack of luck my day seemed to hold. On the Bright Side by NeverShoutNever reminded me to look at the positives of today. Simple things like having my coffee this morning or spending time with my dad. It makes me wonder; why do we take for granted all the little things? The little things should be the reason our day was made. Every smile happened because of the little things in life. Without it, what would make us smile? Life changing, heart melting moments happen only once in a while. The little things are something you can depend on to help you get through every single day. As humans in a materialistic world, we don't look at the priceless moments that made us smile. We forget them the next day. In my last relationship, my best friend asked why I was smiling so much as I checked my phone for the hundredth time. I replied, "He texted me back." She asked, "What did he say?" I told her that he was just telling me he got a new UFC DVD. She didn't understand why that would make me smile. To be honest, I'm not quite sure myself. Maybe it was the fact he shared his excitement with me, or simply the fact it was another topic we could talk about. I wish I could say I'm someone who looks at life with a bright perspective all the time and can always find the tiniest flicker of light in a dark place, but the truth is I'm not. Sometimes we just need someone to show us the brighter side; the color in the black and white.

When shit out of luck, look at the bright side ♥ 

All She Wants is to be Beautiful

  Today, a friend of mine came for me for help. He needed someone to listen. His problems like many others were out of his control. I began to tell him to change his set of mind, so this burden that wasn't his would not control him. He then told me how it wasn't just the injustice burden stowed upon him, but the past year of constant bad luck and hitting rock bottom repeatedly. This is no doubt the hardest time of his life so far. I then remembered mine. I didn't have the courage to tell him about it in detail. I don't think I have the courage to tell anyone I know about my time alone in the dark.
  At age 11, I already started to hear things like, "You look fat", "You should wear make-up", and other comments that destroyed my self-esteem. I started to study my classmates and neighbors, and I began to envy their looks, body shape, and their acceptance of their appearance. Adolescence had begun. I despised my body more and more everyday, even though my doctor claimed that I was slightly underweight for my age. Insecurity became a burden I carried with me everywhere and in everything I did, but I didn't know how to act upon it. Diets sounded unsatisfying, exercising seemed to not be working, and choosing an eating disorder seemed just wrong to me.
  One day at lunch, a friend of mine didn't grab any food. She claimed to not be hungry. The next day, she did it again. On the third day, I joined her and didn't grab any lunch either. I didn't have an appetite even though I didn't eat breakfast either. By the end of the month, my friend and I skipped eating and just played football for the half hour given for lunch. It became a habit, then a daily routine. Dinner and a snack after school became my only meals. I didn't think much of it. I hadn't consciously thought that by not eating i would get skinnier, or starving myself would give me some form of self-esteem. I did realize that I was happier and more accepting of myself, but I wasn't quite sure why. I didn't look into it, maybe in fear of what the obvious answer was, instead I just kept my daily routines and everything about me the same. While we were learning about eating disorders in health class, I wasn't affected. I didn't feel guilty. I felt sorry for those who decided to starve themselves, apparently unaware I was doing the same. It somewhat disgusted me that the victim could allow themselves to hurt their body in order to fit it, to be happy. I went through the rest of the school year not eating breakfast and lunch.
  When summer came along, my mom found it odd and unhealthy I never wanted to eat. I kept reassuring her that I was simply just not hungry. I would eat small amounts to please her when she was home for lunch, and I would stay in my room and act as though I was asleep so she could not force me to eat breakfast. I found myself lying to her when she came home from work, claiming I ate a sandwich for lunch or something she would not be able to trace for dishes. Eating became something I didn't like to do.

  Summer finally past and school started again. My two best friends started dating, and I personally felt left behind. My best friend of 2 years was the very jealous type, and she had to be always number one. She became jealous whenever my other best friend would call me when I was crying. He was only like a brother to me. He was my confidante. He started to drift away from me the more serious they became, and I became jealous she was stealing my best friend. I confronted him and claimed just because he has a serious girlfriend doesn't mean he needs to drop his friends. Or his best friend. We fought, and I lost my closest friend. Soon enough, I was so angry with my best friend of two years for not being loyal enough to my ex-best friend, and we stopped being friends as well. I bawled and bawled, and I was just looking for a way out. I became hungry around lunchtime again, but I refused to eat. I despised myself as a person. I found it as a way to punish myself. That year I had constant heart-ache over boys, and so i refused to eat. I was rebelling against my parents, constantly arguing. I hated being home.
  Track season rolled around, and I still refused to eat days of meets. I was still put in relays, and remained one of the better runners. I accepted that I wasn't the best because I just wasn't meant to be. One Saturday morning, I woke up and felt sudden pain in my body. The previous night I only ate a PB&J sandwich. Everytime I tried to get up, I would collapse and feel dizzy. I couldn't stand. I didn't have the energy. The pain grew more and more. I was stuck in my room. Trapped. I couldn't call for my mom, or she would know I hadn't eaten the night before. So I called my sister, in hopes she wouldn't ask questions. She brought me cereal probably thinking I was just too lazy to get up. It was then I realized something was wrong, but then the thought was put away. I still kept skipping meals even though my life was better. I was in a happy relationship, I made up with both of my best friends, and my family at home became more tolerable. In health class we took longer talking about anorexia than the year before and that was when I realized I had a problem. My friends previously would tell me something is wrong, I never eat. I refused to believe them. I was in denial, because I always told myself I could never do that to myself. The more we discussed it in class, the more I felt guilty. I felt like everyone new my guilty deep dark secret. I was scared. I was happy, and I wanted to act like it. I wanted to stop starving myself. Life was good, but I knew it would be better if I would eat regularly and learn to accept my body. I tried to get myself to eat lunch, but I found myself feeling horrible for eating, or simply unable to take more than a few bites without feeling full. My boyfriend(later will be known as Mr. Lincoln) and I had become serious. We were best friends before we dated, I told him everything. Every day he went out of his way to walk me home, and every day guilt rose inside me for keeping this from him. When I finally told him, he told me he already knew and was disappointed it took so long for me to tell him and that I had told my closest guy friend first. He told me he was there for me and I need to stop, because he thinks I'm beautiful and perfect the way I was. He became my rehab. He never failed to make me feel beautiful.
  Paradise didn't last forever. A month later, we started to fight. He was the jealous type, and I had too many guy friends who flirted with me. I couldn't understand why he couldn't just look past it because it was him I loved. Our fights became unbearable, and we were just hurting each other crying ourselves to sleep. One summer day, we talked and thought it was best we break up. Right away, I regretted it. I wanted to take it all back, but he seemed to be content. We remained best friends, but found that we still loved each other. He found out he was moving, and my heart sank and I pushed him away. My rehab was over, and I needed control. I began to starve myself once more. We started talking again, and I no longer showed my feelings for him. I kept myself in the friend zone, and helped him be happy with other girls. I tried all summer to get over him. I cried every night. The beauty he made me feel was long gone. My old friends insecurity and low self-esteem came back and swore to stay forever, unlike my ex-boyfriend and old best friends.
  Fall came once more, and I was still crying myself to sleep. My friends seemed to have been drifting away from me. All of my close friends who I confided in seemed to be busy. I set my mind to think that I was on my own. I hided my feelings. I shut out anyone who tried to get on a personal level with me. I built high walls over and over again when people kept trying to tear them down. I wanted to run away. I wanted kill myself. I became depressed. The sun never seemed to shine bright enough. My friends kept informing that skipping meals would make me gain weight. I never wanted to listen. I didn't want to eat. I felt unworthy to eat. I felt impure and ugly. I deserved to feel the pain of hunger, of starvation. I was weak though, I ate when I just couldn't handle it. I hated myself. I wanted to be someone else. I wanted to start somewhere new. When I was accepted to the IB program at a high school my classmates weren't likely to go to, I wanted to go. I wanted to get away. I felt isolated where I was.
  In February, I auditioned to be in a musical at the high school where all my classmates were planning to attend. I made it. Everyday, I went to rehearsal with a few classmates and met high school students. That month of rehearsals was the most fun and exciting thing I had experienced. I felt a part of the school. I felt like somebody. I felt wanted. I loved it so much. With tears and tribulation, I switched high schools. I was now enrolled with my fellow classmates. The world seemed brighter. Track season came and I ate lunch for my best performance, and I could feel the improvement. I went to districts for all my events. I started eating lunch more often. I was still insecure about my body, but I had learned to accept it.
  I'm not quite sure what finally clicked in my head that semester, but I got myself to eat. I will never really understand what my motivation was. I like to believe that I finally realized how much people cared about me, that I was never really alone, that keeping myself in the dark didn't make me stronger. I changed the way I dealt with my problems. A friend of mine showed me different way that music had helped her through good and bad times. She started writing songs when she was in elementary. I tried it, and found it so relieving. Piano became my therapy. On top of that, my dearest, closest friend of 5 years help me realize to change my set of mind. Changing my set of mind help me enjoy life just that much more. Every once in awhile, I will have the urge to skip a meal to punish myself, and I can't deny that I do give in sometimes, but I'm proud to admit that I have fought the urge. I may not think I am beautiful, or feel like it, but I do accept myself. I still believe in room for improvement, but not at the cost of my health or well-being. I have learned to keep my head held high, and my hunger satisfied. Starving myself will always stay in my past, but that doesn't mean it's not a part of my future, too. 

She then saw the light at the end of tunnel and knew she just had to sing through the darkness, because in the end she knew it would be alright.

Introductions

Hello my darling readers,

I'm Chelsea (Far Left). I'm a "Real Girl Blogging" I've had blogs on other websites and had one on blogger before, but I forgot about my blogger. So the blogs I post in the next week or two will be my blog post since July on my other blogs. I keep them all up to date. So this is me just spreading my blogging to more people. Anyways, like i said, I'm a real girl blogging facing real problems in a VERY real world. Nothing is obviously extraordinary about me, I don't have cancer, I don't own my own business or charity or anything, I'm not on an adventure or mission, or anything like that. I'm just an ordinary girl, sharing my life with complete strangers. I blog as I think (like my twitter- follow me!) and I don't really go back and edit my thoughts. I'm not selling myself very well, but I assure you, my blog is definitely worth reading. My life is relatable, but my thoughts could help those understand how to get through it, or a different way of seeing things. I'm just someone who wants to be a friend you can talk to and relate to and take advice from. I'm the friend you will never meet. My blog are my thoughts, and you are encouraged to read my mind all you want! I hope you enjoy what you might find, and possibly relate!

With Tons of Love ♥

Chelsea 

A.K.A Real Girl Blogging