So many things happened in 2018. Shootings, wildfires, and many other tragic events. In the midst of all the chaos and catastrophe the world is facing right now, it’s the small things in life that make me the most thankful and make life enjoyable.
My horse who always waits for me at the end of the school day.
For my roommate, who deals with me screaming in confusion and frustration at Criminal Minds and who also deals with my annoying rants and constant requests for food.
Being able to go home after being away at boarding school and knowing it wasn’t destroyed by the California fires.
For my friends, who are always there for me even if I’m not the nicest friend at times.
Seeing my top three favorite bands in only three months.
And that all those bands have recently released new music.
Opening up my mail box and seeing my first college acceptance.
Getting a $20,000 annual scholarship for that accepted school.
Seeing my dog when I drive back home today, knowing that he’ll be wagging his tail and running towards me when I arrive.
Still being really close friends with the girls from my old school.
That my back fracture doesn’t affect me from riding.
In two months, I’ll be eighteen years old.
The stars that put me to sleep and the sun that wakes me up.
For broadway musicals, that it’s almost been one year since I’ve seen Hamilton.
For living so close to Disneyland and living on the beach.
For getting to learn something new every day.
For becoming a better version of myself every day.
For finally accepting myself for every physical quirk, every mental flaw and knowing that my days where I’m at rock bottom last temporarily. That when those days end, there are still so many things I can be thankful for.
If you’ve ever wondered how it feels to see a person become someone else, it’s sort of like trying to hold water in your hands. You can keep your hands cupped together for a little while, but more and more of it begins to trickle through your fingers. You panic, try to hold back as much as you can, but, eventually, there’s so little left in your palms that you just let the rest fall to the floor.
That’s how it felt with you. It was like I was watching everything in slow motion. I tried to catch you, but now I know that you didn’t want me to.
I didn’t believe you when you told me you were leaving. I think in the back of my mind, I had been expecting it.
You’ve been my best friend, one of the most important people in my life, for as long as I can remember. But, now, I can’t remember the last time I saw you.
It still hurts. I’m still mad and I still don’t fully understand why you chose to go. You told me you needed to do it for yourself, that you needed to be selfish.
But I never thought you were being selfish. I just thought you were wrong.
You mean so, so much to me. I miss you more than you know.
I wish I could still see you everyday. I wish you were still the one who I went to before anyone else, the person I told everything to. But you’re not anymore. I know it could still be that way if we tried, but most days I just don’t feel like trying.
I think the reason I’m still mad is because it felt like you chose them over me. It still feels that way.
It hurts to see someone change, to see them become someone different.
But what hurts more is to leave them behind, to accept that your time together has come and gone. I’m not ready to do that yet.
It started in Thousand Oaks, which is about an hour away from here, and it’s already taken 10,000 acres of land.
I try not to let it trigger me; I try to see it as one of the many catastrophes that have become a norm in our lives. But, I hear the wind blowing through our mobile dorms, that we’ve lived in since the Thomas Fire, and I can’t help but remember.
I remember it all. I remember the red cloud rising up behind the hills. I remember the dorm meeting we had, how they told us that the winds weren’t blowing our way, that we were safe. I remember having to evacuate in the middle of study hall, leaving nearly everything behind without even realizing that it all would be gone the next day. I remember finding out that our campus caught on fire. I remember not being able to leave the house without a smoke mask for days and it always looking like the sun was setting. I remember staring at that bright red sun, hoping for our clean blue skies to come back.
I don’t want to be dramatic. It could have been so much worse. But, being reminded of the fact that so much is gone and will forever remain gone and that, right now, there are people going through the exact same horrible thing, isn’t exactly pleasant.
Maybe I’m being oversensitive. Maybe I should be realistic and move on. Eventually, I will move on, but not quite yet. For now, I’ll be sitting on my bed, trying to tune out the wind pressing up against my window, staring at my packed bag in the corner.
I think one of the reasons I’m always so fixated on others is because how much I hate myself.
I’m often called annoying, because I ask to many questions.
I’m often called nosy, because I get in other peoples business.
I’m often told I copy others, so I need to stop trying to be like everyone else.
I’m often called jealous, because I need to be happy for others.
I’m often called a liar, so I need to stop over exaggerating and be more honest.
I’m often called conceited, so I need to stop talking about what things I have done.
I’m often called self degrading, so I need to get out of my head.
But here’s the thing…
I ask a lot of questions because I rarely trust myself and need reassurance.
I get in other peoples business because hearing other peoples’ flaws distracts me of my own.
I copy others at times because I want to fit in, be accepted, and I simply don’t fully know who I am or how to be myself yet.
I lie at times because I am ashamed or embarrassed of something I have or haven’t done. I lie because I think I’m worthless and I don’t want others to think that too. I lie solely because I’m scared of the truth. In many aspects, I’m a failure to the too-fast, too-soon goals I have created to for myself.
I come off as conceited because when I do something I’m proud of, I want it to be known because it is rare that I am happy about something I’ve done. My accomplishments and my talents are the few things that I truly know are a part of my identity. A lot of times, I say the things I have done well just to remind myself I’m capable of actually doing good. I have a hard time being humble because I assume people view me as worthless, the same way I view myself. Sharing my accomplishments proves that I’m actually capable of achieving good.
I come of as self-degrading because I am. I refuse to accept the fact that I can’t be the best at everything. I set goals that are beyond my reach and set myself up for failure. I punish myself for every goal I don’t achieve, resulting in my belief that loosing is the end of the world.
I know that one of the reasons I’m always so fixated on others is because how much I hate myself.
I know the reasons behind my flaws don’t make up for them, but understanding is the first step to solving them.