Looking back, I think I could have fallen in love with you.
And I think that if I let myself I probably still would.
Image from Pinterest.com
But now things are different and you’ve met someone who you seem to love even though you don’t talk about her much.
I wonder if you ever think of me that way anymore. I know you used to.
For a while I thought every word that came out of your mouth was arrogant. The few words we exchanged in passing made me sad, and I wondered why you were so polite to everyone but me. I thought that I would never know you the way I used to and I missed that. But now I realize you probably just said those things because you missed me too.
I forgot about how effortlessly eloquent you are. I forgot how good you are at communicating and how incredibly intelligent you are. I could listen to you for hours and never be bored.
I forgot how curly your hair gets when you let it grow longer and about the way you gesture with your hands when you get excited.
You reminded me that I don’t care when you laugh at me because I’m just glad that I get to hear your laugh again. You reminded me about how you actually listen to what I have to say, and you actually care.
You told me you wanted to hear me sing again. You said you’re learning guitar now and talked about how we used to play music together. I never told you badly I miss that.
I could see myself loving you someday. I could see myself loving you for a long time.
I’m sorry for the things I said about you. I think it was because I was sad that so much had changed so fast and that inevitably you had changed too. But when it’s just us and when you don’t have to worry if anyone is listening you somehow convince me that you haven’t changed much after all.
I sometimes try to imagine what it might be like now if you never left, but it’s probably better this way.
Maybe we were always meant to love each other but we just missed our opportunity. Maybe someday we’ll still be able to, if we’re lucky.
A few weeks ago I compiled a list of 25 things that make me happy. I’m not in the happiest of moods currently, so I’m creating a sequel in an effort to cheer myself up.
Music – the only thing that I know absolutely makes the world a better place.
The sore dents I get on my fingertips after playing guitar for too long.
Singing harmonies.
Hugs – good, wholesome, all-encompassing hugs.
Seeing my friends succeed.
Having good hair days.
Being proud of something.
Going a week without biting my nails.
Eating passion fruit.
Being able to sleep in, for once.
Having my driver’s permit (and the bragging rights that come with it).
The times when I feel pretty.
How silence isn’t uncomfortable with my closest friends.
Tea tree oil.
Getting buried in sand at the beach with only my head sticking out, and the sand that covers my body being carved into a mermaid.
Image via elephantjournal.com
Laughing until tears come out of my eyes.
Finding the perfect tree for climbing.
Climbing said tree.
Being barefoot.
The satisfaction of overlooking a valley after hiking all the way up it.
How my nose gets red when it’s really cold out, and I can see my breath in the air.
Being so hot that I can feel the sweat evaporating off of my skin.
The comfort of a cool breeze in the summertime (the best feeling in the world).
To begin,
For all of my peers who participated in the national school walkout today, I want to thank you for standing up for what you believe in and being catalysts for the change that our country so desperately needs. We know what kind of world we deserve to live in, and we are making it a reality.
Credit: TruthRevolt.org
Growing up in an age of technology, social media and internet access can be a double-edged sword of sorts. We can use our technology as a platform for positive things, like spreading awareness and voicing our opinions on all sorts of matters. But, that can also result in a nearly obsessive need to receive validation for our experiences. This validation comes from documenting and posting about almost anything that occurs and is worthy of being noticed.
This dichotomy poses a question: If you don’t post about it does it even really matter?
I’m not trying to be cynical, I’m just genuinely curious if that is a justifiable way of life. I’m not saying I am immune to it, but I would also like to think that I’m not dependent on my social media, nor do I find validation solely through it.
Something I noticed throughout the protesting that took place today is a lot of people seemed to have no idea why they were a part of it. Sure, they knew that it was in honor of the seventeen victims of the Parkland shooting, but they were mostly participating just to follow along with everyone else.
Credit: Polkscan.com
I received several messages, posts, etc. talking about the protests and ways to be involved, which I appreciate, but in lots of ways they all seemed so disingenuous. I am fully supportive of young people’s activism. But when you send me snapchats of yourself wearing an orange t-shirt to “show ur support!” I can’t help but think that you really have no idea what you care about, you just want me to know that you “protested.”
When asked what you believe, you can give a coherent reply. But when asked why you believe it, you have no idea.
It’s almost as if you don’t even care about the victims of all of the past shootings, you don’t even know why people are fighting for stricter gun control/laws. You only care about how many likes you got or how many people viewed your story.
Being a part of a protest itself (actually being an active activist) should be validation enough, it shouldn’t need to be found on instagram. But maybe that’s just the way I look at it.
So, yes, I understand and agree with the fact that social media can be used to spread awareness and to generate change. I also realize that these walkouts were fueled by social media, and that without it we wouldn’t have accomplished such a large-scale and widespread protest. But when half of the people I see posting have no idea what the significance of it is, it just makes them seem ignorant and it takes away from the importance of today’s events.
It is inspiring to see so many young people who already have such strong opinions. But if you have no idea why you have certain beliefs, if your beliefs don’t have a purpose or a foundation, then you might as well not believe in anything.
In order to be effective you must first be informed.
I think we can all agree that, for the most part, politics suck.
When I was younger, I think I just sort of fell into agreement with my family’s political views; one, because I didn’t pay any attention to what was happening, and two, because it didn’t matter to me at that point in my life anyway.
Now that I try my best to stay up-to-date with news, I can actually comprehend what it means, and I feel the effects of the things that are going on in the world around me. Now that I can form opinions for myself, they’ve begun to differ from what I grew up with.
For the most part my parents are very open to discussions and they do their best to give me unbiased responses, but some others in my family aren’t so supportive.
I try to stay away from discussing politics with these members of the family, but sometimes things come up unintentionally. For example: tonight at dinner, I began talking about hopes for my future, such as what I want to study and where I want to go to college, possible careers, where I want to travel, etc.
When I mentioned that one day I want to join the Peace Corps they sort of laughed at me. That’s when our conversation took a turn. Instead of discussing my hopes and dreams for my life ahead of me, I was bombarded with questions like, “Why do you want to join the Peace Corps? Why don’t you intern at Wall Street?” and “Don’t you care about money? Well you will once you have to provide for yourself.”
Image via Bubble-Jobs.co.uk
As a result of those responses, I have a message for the family members in question: Since I decided to keep my larger opinions to myself after the dinner incident, here are a few things that I hope you will someday understand.
First and foremost, I am fully aware that for my entire life I have been financially secure and I haven’t had to worry about anything involving money. I know that this is a result of a lifetime of your hard work, and I am incredibly thankful for that.
Although some of our opinions are quite different, I still respect yours; your opinions are valid.
I’m not sorry that my views differ from yours, but I’m sorry that you completely disregard them. It really doesn’t matter to me that you have different values, so long as you don’t tell me that my own are wrong.
While you are probably correct in that a lot of my opinions are somewhat influenced by my peers, that doesn’t mean that I can’t think for myself.
It’s fair for you to be disappointed that I don’t agree with you, but it’s not fair for you to be disappointed in me as a person. The way I vote does not determine who I am, nor does it determine my character.
Half of my relatives just give away their vote and let someone else decide their views for them. Shouldn’t you be happy that I can think for myself? Shouldn’t you be happy that I don’t believe everything I’m told and that I know what is important to me? Shouldn’t you at least be happy that I believe in something?
Please don’t disregard what I say to you. Please don’t blame my opinions on my age. Please don’t brush off my contradictions with “Oh, she’ll come around one of these days.”
Please don’t look at me differently because of what I think. Differences in opinions should be accepted, not criticized. If our minds were all the same, nothing would ever go anywhere.
Diversity, whether it be found in people, in life experience, or in beliefs, is a wonderful thing.
Statistically speaking, how likely is it that anyone will ever find their soulmate?
Sure, it’s probably possible, but just how possible? There are what, like, seven billion people on the planet? Most of which are living in completely different parts of the world and who you will most likely never meet.
So really, is it feasible that somehow you and your “soulmate” would end up in the same place at the same time, and then go on to fall in love forever? Is that even a thing?
Is there really a way that two people could be destined for only each other?
Maybe this seems like a pessimistic outlook on things, but I like to think of it as an abstractly optimistic approach.
Think about it this way: if there are billions of people in the world, the chances of finding your one perfect person are extremely small. But that also goes to show that the chances of finding someone to fall in love with are just as large.
Love and relationships are all about compatibility, right? So, seeing just how many humans there are, there could be thousands of people out there who are potentially compatible with you.
So, even if it seems hopeless, there really are plenty of fish in the sea. Seven billion fish, to be exact.
But hey, what do I know? This is coming from somehow who looks forward to the day after Valentine’s day because of the discounted chocolate prices.
When we were kids, we spent the entire summer in the pool.
We would bounce around in the water for hours on end, using our feet to push off the sides so many times that we would get blisters on our toes. By the time we got out, pruned and sunburnt, our feet would be bleeding from scraping them on the concrete so much. But we didn’t care. Mom called it pool toe.
I remember how we used to eat breakfast as fast as we could, and then we would play rock-paper-scissors to see who got to jump in first. We swam from morning until night, only pausing for a lunch break of watermelon and pretzels.
Photo credit: Resources2.news.com
Your hands always shriveled up faster than mine did. You used to tell me it meant we were turning into fish, and I was convinced it was true. You also swam faster than I did, but sometimes, if I was lucky, you’d let me win some of our races.
Whenever there was a breeze it would get too cold in the water. To warm up we’d haul ourselves out of the pool and lay with our stomachs down on the concrete deck, like lizards on rocks.
I remember my tangled, sun bleached hair, and the smell of the special shampoo Mom made me use that prevented it from turning green from the chlorine. I remember family commenting on how bloodshot my eyes were, but I wasn’t bothered. I didn’t mind if my eyes were a little bit red and sore, so long as I could avoid the inconvenience of strapping on goggles.
We had changing lights for when we swam at night. I would stand on the diving board, staring down into the water below. The green water meant there were alligators lurking; so I obviously couldn’t jump in, for danger of being eaten. Blue meant sharks, so once again there were some risks. But when the water was pink, it was clear of all man-eating creatures, so it meant I was free to dive in.
When we were kids, we thought days like those would last forever.
I miss it. When we didn’t care if our fingers were shriveled up like prunes, or if our noses were bright red and peeling, or if we had pool toe.
I used to think we were, but I also used to think that you told me everything. I thought you trusted me. It wasn’t until recently that I found out I was wrong.
I’ve always been aware of just how different we are but that never mattered to me. I would do just about anything to relate to you. The older I get the more I understand that we are different people.
Your friends are nothing like my friends and for the past four years it seems like you would rather be with them than with me whenever possible. Why do you choose to be close with certain people, why do you try so hard to be like them?
Sometimes I feel like we’re making progress, and then the next day I feel like you’re more distant than ever.
I want you to care about me. I want you to like me. And I know that you do, but you show it so rarely that I almost always forget.
So when you do little things like not inviting me places or blocking me on social media – things that normally wouldn’t bother me coming from people I don’t care about – it feels like betrayal.
Even when you are so unkind and when you act like you don’t care, I always forgive you. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to forgive, but I want you to accept me so badly that I pretend not to be bothered.
Sometimes I think you don’t have very good judgement and it scares me. I worry that you don’t take care of yourself. I worry about you more than you know.
When you let me in it means the world. When you shut me out it makes me feel like I don’t matter. And you don’t even realize it.
Maybe it will be better when we’re older. Maybe I’ll just have to accept that we’re different people, that we have different goals and different views. Maybe I just care more than you do, maybe I shouldn’t care so much.
I know who the love of my life is. But I haven’t met him yet.
I know that he will love music and maybe play the guitar and we’ll both know how to speak Spanish. He will want to travel the world and he will care about conserving resources and the environment.
He’ll be intelligent and insightful and probably a democrat.
My parents will love him and he will get along with my brothers.
When I ask him to go on a road trip at 2 P.M. on a Saturday he will pack a bag and we’ll be driving by 3. He’ll like being outside. He’ll be good at climbing trees.
image via pinterest.com
We will have long discussions about the fate of the world and we’ll never get bored. He’ll know exactly what to say and exactly what not to say.
He will love the beach and will make me laugh until I cry.
We will listen to each other. He will dance with me in the living room, even if there’s no music.
I don’t know his name and I don’t know exactly what he looks like.
But I know he’s out there. I just hope he finds me, and that I’m the one he’s looking for.
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