Loralee was born on April 28, 1970. Loralee died on June 3rd 1970.
My mom never met her sister; I never met my aunt. She spent her thirty-six days in a hospital. Loralee wasn’t born lucky.
Due to her cleft pallet, she was unable to swallow. The hospital put a tube down her throat to feed her. Instead of going into her esophagus, the tube was misplaced and put into her lungs. After a month and three days, her lungs were filled from the tube’s givings and she died from suffocation.
Loralee Myra French never came home. My mom never got to see her sister. My mother was less than two years old. I wonder what my grandmother told her. How could you explain that to an innocent child?
My mom learned the full story when she was older.
I learned the full story a week ago.
Recently, my great aunt died. I wasn’t close to her. She was an awful person. She put her son through absolute shit, abused my grandmother, and put my mom’s side of the family through living hell.
Even though she was a cruel human being, it hit me hard when she died. As bad as it sounds, it wasn’t hard for me because I cared about her a lot, it was harder for another reason.
As I’m getting older, death is so much more real. I understand it and am effected by it more and it takes place more in my life. There are so many people who are going to die in my lifetime: my parents, my grandparents, my kindergarten teacher, the owners of my favorite place in the world… There are so many people who have died in my lifetime: my grandfather, my aunt, my favorite artist, my dad’s best friend.
I’m still young, but I’m old enough to understand how abruptly life can end.
I was doing driver’s ed a couple days ago. I read a story about a man who got in a car crash and killed his best friend.
One mistake, one wrong turn, one bad decision, and your life could be done.
We all know we will die one day. It’s not “if;” it’s a “when?”
When am I going to die? When are you going to die? It’s inevitable, unescapable, and, in my opinion, scary. So scary.
On the news, I read about a girl who traveled in Costa Rica, met a man at an Airbnb, and went missing. Later, she was found dead.
One misgiving of trust, one ignorant move, one second of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you could be found lifeless too.
And, then, there’s so many undeserving people who die cruel, miserable deaths. Cancer, suffering, abuse, rape. So many innocent people whose lives get taken away. Just like the young rape victim who was found dead in a suitcase behind a dumpster, just like orphan who starved to death, just like the 13,000 people who died in shootings this year, just like the young baby who only got to spend thirty six days on this earth; my aunt Loralee Mya French.
I always go to the movies purely for entertainment. I’ve never gone to a movie where I’ve left inspired about my future.
But after watching On the Basis of Sex on Saturday, I couldn’t wait to be a lawyer.
The movie was based off the life of Ruth Bader Ginsberg. She was the top of her class at both Harvard’s and Columbia’s law schools, but she wasn’t allowed to practice law in New York City solely on the basis that she was a woman during this time.
The story followed her through her first case following a male who wanted a care giver tax deduction, but the law stated that only women or widowed men could be care givers.
This case was the spark that started a series of changes in laws contributing to giving women their rights, many cases won by RBG herself.
Photo Credit: Rottentomatoes.com
Ginsberg went from a lawyer fighting sex-based discrimination against people who wouldn’t listen to being a Supreme Court justice with a 96-3 vote from Congress.
If that’s not inspirational for a young female and aspiring lawyer, then I don’t know what is.
Ever since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a lawyer. I would make up cases and make my family act as the other lawyers and defendants. I went to a mock trial program at UCLA over the summer and most of my daydreams lately have been about excelling in law school.
I’m pretty sure I’m more excited for law school than I am for college.
Watching that movie made me excited for my future, excited to live in NYC, and excited practice law and work on influential cases.
So, thank you RBG. I hope to follow in your footsteps on the path you’ve helped create.
Recently I got a tattoo and everyone has been wondering what it is or why I got it. I haven’t explained it to many people because I just haven’t had time to fully explain it. There are so many things someone must know to understand why I got that tattoo. It is not something simple to me. I mean I planned it for 8 years, so what can you expect?
When I was very young, around the age of 4, I took father and daughter guitar lessons with my dad. I don’t really remember the classes, but one day has always stood out to me more than others. My dad and I went to the class, then went to the fair after. We got mint chocolate chip ice cream and I just loved spending the day with my dad. The main focus of the day was music, but that was most days for us.
Another really strong memory I have with my dad is painting with watercolors. We painted together so many times that I don’t have just one day I can recall. All I remember is painting with him.
He was very artistic. In fact, I think that I got my artistic side from him. We used to always jam out to “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath in his car and look at nature together. We always talked about how beautiful nature was. Our favorite colors were green and blue because they were always in nature and we both had beautiful blue eyes.
In 2011, God decided that it was time for my dad to go home. I tried to follow him multiple times, but luckily I failed.
Photo Credit: pinterest.com
Now that I got the background information out of the way, I think I can actually explain my tattoo.
My tattoo is a black bass and treble clef that resemble a heart with blue, green, and purple watercolors behind it on my forearm. It sounds simple, but it really isn’t.
I have known since I was 10 I wanted a heart for my dad but I did not know what kind. I decided that when I saw the music heart that I knew it was perfect. I feel most connected to him through any sort of art.
The bass clef has low notes in music while the treble has high notes. This is to remind me that there are lows in life, but there are also highs.
The bass clef normally has a colon at the end, but I decided to make it a semicolon because there is a very famous project known as The Semicolon Project, which raises awareness for suicide victims and survivors. After my father passed, I thought I could not handle life without him, but I can and the semicolon is a reminder that I can.
The watercolors in the back are not just cool colors to me. Whenever I see blue and green together, I always think of my dad so I thought they were the only fitting colors to have. I added purple as a sort of transition color.
The reason I am calling them watercolors is because they look like splashes of watercolors. The reason I added them was not just for a pop of color. It was because some of the best memories I have of him are when we were painting together and most the time we used watercolors.
The placement is not random either. I know to some people it is dumb to have a tattoo so visible, but I do not care. It is visible in most dresses, but I want it that way. My father cannot walk me down the aisle so having the tattoo on my arm out in the open is the closest I will ever get.
I’m thankful for my feet and for all of the blisters and calluses they’ve endured, simply because they’ve kept me grounded.
I’m thankful for my legs, because even though sometimes I think they are too short, they are strong. My legs have carried me across miles, mountains, and everything in between.
I’m thankful for my stomach, my back. I am thankful for my chest, because it protects my lungs and my heart.
I’m thankful for my arms, no matter how much I hate the way they look in tank tops, because they help me lift myself back up.
I’m thankful for my shoulders, the same ones that I used to think were too broad and boyish, for always keeping my head up.
And lastly, I’m thankful for my head. Although it isn’t always level, it houses my brain and all of the thoughts that are constantly buzzing around in it.
We spend too much time hating our bodies. It is easier to find things we don’t like about ourselves than it is to find things we do like. We can’t control the way we look, but we can control how we feel about ourselves.
And even though it’s hard sometimes, I think we should all try to thank our bodies every once in a while.
We need to be kinder to ourselves, kinder to our bodies. We deserve that.
My body isn’t perfect, but it has gotten me this far. And I’m so thankful for that.
the only thing i can remember is riding bikes around this small town with people who are now mundane
biking around before anyone could drive and before things got so complicated and you liked drinking so much and your new friends
when we would go down random streets just to go down them and listen to music that made us fall in love
not with each other although we loved each other but with this silly small town and the feeling it gave us
maybe it didn’t make us fall in love maybe it only made me
you’re much cooler now but we put your speaker in the bike basket and listened to music with girls singing who had much prettier voices than you and had picnics and sat in grass that made me itchy all over
and this isn’t a love story in any way nor am i mad i just wish i was more artistic and didn’t have to read on people who are much cooler than i am to become inspired
i think that’s where all of this sprouts from
my lack of creativity and artistic ability and i try but maybe i’m made to grow up and hate my job
while i’m at it i might as well just quit this whole class along with every other one too
i’ll probably just keep picking the skin off my thumbs and dedicate my life towards the absolute rotting of my brain like all my friends are doing
and i’ll stay in the same shitty town where i listened to shitty music with you in that only made us hate each other probably because your voice was prettier than hers but I would never tell you that
and this town is rainy now and not the good type of rain but the sad type and the places we used to go make me sick and you
you and your new friends exchange presents while i’m sitting there and that makes me feel lonelier than i already did
and i’m not artistic and i have good grades but if i know anything i know i don’t want to work in an office
but my family told me only people who are super motivated to do something else can get bad grades
and they tell me that will never be me
so i guess i’m going to be sitting in a office at a job i detest but if i’m lucky enough i’ll be in downtown LA or maybe new york
or maybe i’ll blend in with the rest and maybe people will think i’m cool on instagram and i’ll sit around my house on the road to fucking nowhere.
I started off 2018 with so many resolutions. I was going to lose weight and gain abs, keep straight A’s, save up all my money to go traveling, and I fulfilled none of those resolutions.
Because, whenever I make New Year’s resolutions, I make them so they’re far beyond my reach in such a small time. When I make huge goals, I get disappointed when I don’t reach them in a short time, so I end up quitting along the way.
So, in 2019, I won’t make grand wishes for myself. I’ll make small ones and I’ll keep adding to those small ones until I get the results I want.
Photo Credit: vox.com
I didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions, but I do have small goals for myself I hope to continue through the year:
Write in my diary. I started writing in a journal at the beginning of 12th grade when I was feeling down, but I suddenly stopped when life got better. I don’t want to stop. I want to write about everything that excites, depresses, or even angers me. But I don’t expect to write in it every day because I get busy or just tend to forget, but I hope to grab my journal and write anything and everything whenever I remember.
Eat healthier. This doesn’t mean I’m gonna completely cut out junk food from my life. I’m still gonna eat my favorite candy and journalism snacks and stop at In-N-Out when I leave LAX. But I’ll also add more vegetables to my plate and avoid gluten when I can. I’ll add better foods to my diet without necessarily taking away all the bad ones.
Dedicate a little more time to playing guitar and piano.
Be more inclusive with my friends.
Work out more. Not full work outs at the gym, but small ones before bed. Sit ups, stretches, squats, etc. all while watching Netflix or talking over the phone with my friends.
Live life in the moment. I want to go to concerts and dance and sing my heart out in the back instead of hoping to be at the front for that one Instagram photo just to prove I was there. Laugh in the moment instead of worrying about the potentially inexistent consequences of the future. Wear the outfit I thought was cute though I don’t necessarily think I look cute in it. Find people who want to be with me instead of waiting on those who don’t. And live.
2019 isn’t a new year for a new me, but it is a new year for an improved me and that’s what I hope to do.
I knew you before, but we had never talked. I knew of you.
It was just recently that I met you. When you looked at me, I blushed. I felt something I couldn’t describe.
You had my number from a while back and you texted me that night… You told me how we had this connection that was rare and beautiful.
You said that you wanted to get to know me better. I said I wanted to too.
I had heard bad things about you, but I didn’t believe it. And in the end, it wasn’t you who was at fault, it was me.
You made me feel special, loved, happy.
We talked for hours. I told you my insecurities, you told me your secrets too.
But, apparently, I scared you off.
I remember saying “I’m scared that if you get to know me, you won’t like me anymore.”
You promised that would never happen, that I could never scare you away.
Well, you lied. In less than a day, you got distant. I got scared; I reached out.
You went from saying things that made me feel adored, to saying nothing at all.
I couldn’t stand it, I knew I should have let you be, but I couldn’t.
“Do you still like me?” I asked.
“Yes, but your feelings are kind of suffocating right now,” he replied.
“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Thank you,” you said.
Suffocating…
You had told me you wanted something that would last, you told me to be clingy, you told me you wanted to be with me for a long time,
Yet in two days of talking, you call me suffocating.
How can you say you still like me but you want me to leave you alone?
How can you have said that I was the perfect girl for you, then turn me away the next day?
I’m suffocating…
It’s hard to breathe the absence of love. It’s not that I loved you, I guess I just loved the thought of you. I thought you were perfect.
“Love’s like oxygen. You get too much you get to high, not enough and you’re going to die.”
You built me up, maybe it was part of your manipulating trick. You built me up so much, made me feel so special, then stripped it all away.
We’ve only known each other for three days, it’s almost impressive how you manage to hurt me this bad.
I can’t breathe, I feel empty.
Like a void, a wound, a puncture in my chest.
I’m gasping for air, yet I’m still suffocating.
Photo Credit: pinterest.com
They warned me about you, told me how your kindness was just a way of manipulating me into getting what you wanted.
But the sad part is, I went a long with it, I feel so hard for you that I would have given you what you wanted.
I’ve cried, I’ve stayed in bed for almost a day… all of this for you. My spirit builds up so high when I get a notification on my phone. Maybe it’s you. It never is.
You broke me.
And yet you say you’re the one suffocating.
But at the root of it all, it’s not you at fault.
You gave me a chance; I blew it.
I came on too strong maybe? I tried to talk to you too much maybe?
I’m sorry I made you feel suffocated.
If only I could have been better. If only I could be better.
I have an existential crisis almost every night.
The fire was a year ago. That scares me.
The music is too loud outside my window and
my eyes hurt from staring at a screen for so long.
I’m having an existential crisis tonight. It’s because of Calculus homework.
I could post about it. Maybe someone will say I’m pretty.
She hasn’t replied to my email yet and I worry that my writing is boring.
But my teacher says I’m good at Spanish, so at least I have that.
My eyes are dry. They almost always are.
I say I’ve never been in love before but that’s not true.
Photo Credit: Pinterest.com (and this is supposed to be ironic)
I am in love right now. It’s just the sad kind.
I could post about it. Maybe someone will say I’m pretty.
He likes the finality of writing things down on paper. I like it too. (But as I wrote this, I knew I would type it out later.) I like the way he thinks because he is an intellectual.
I want to leave my house and live somewhere far away.
My life is a mess and I’m having an existential crisis tonight, but I met a famous person once. And a different famous person has a relative that goes to my school, so I think I will post about it.
I wish I could write songs. They would probably be boring.
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