I miss waking up early on Saturday mornings to watch my favorite cartoons.

Now I struggle to wake myself up, even in the afternoon.

I miss wearing zebra print leggings under neon pink skirts and Hannah Montana shirts to top it off.

Now the worries about people judging the dirt at the bottom of my shoes to the fabric of my cardigan consume me to the point of anxiety.

I miss being excited about Christmas. I miss waking up early and running out of my bedroom in my pajamas to sit around the Christmas tree and open gifts. I miss making cookies for a Santa I once believed in.

Now I know his existence was a mere tale.

Now Christmas itself is a mere tale to me.

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I miss believing. I miss believing in fairies and elves, and having adults feed me those tales to keep my imagination strong.

I miss dancing around the room like no one was watching. I miss dancing to music that actually had a meaning.

Now, all I hear is deafening dubstep and meaningless, degrading rap. Now all I see is grinding.

I missed when I could sing at the top of my lungs, and no one would say I was bad even though we all knew I was.

I miss when the most dramatic thing at school was two seven year olds holding hands under a desk, not finding out drugs were killing your best friends.

I miss being young. When I’d see celebrities on big screens and wish to be like them one day. Now I know who they really are, all their messed up scandals and drunken photos taken by paparazzi.

I guess what I miss most is being a child. I don’t miss my childhood, but I miss when I was young. When I wasn’t stressed about school, when the biggest worry of my life was if Miley was going to get with Jesse or Jake, and when I could always be happy.

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All I’ve ever wanted is to be close to you.

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.

But I do care. I always will.

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My magic genie

“If you were granted three wishes, what would they be?”


If that actually was reality, like any normal person on this planet, I would wish for an infinite amount of wishes. But that’s boring. So here are my top three wishes!

My first wish would be to keep my family, friends and me healthy for the rest of our lives. I don’t want to see any more of them leave us way too early. I don’t even want to see them cancel on a party they’ve been excited for for the past month because of a flu, or not be able to sing along to their favorite song because a cold took their voice.

My second wish would be to have superpowers. I’d probably go for invisibility, just think of all the things I could do! I could successfully prank my friends for once, I could easily avoid talking to people, I could even become the richest spy ever, because I could sneak into anywhere and spy on anyone I wanted to!

My last wish is kind of embarrassing. But I wish I had the perfect body. I want to be able to wear the clothes I want to wear, to look good in a picture without trying to, and I am sick of my grandparents telling me not to eat that because “it will just go straight to your hips” every single time we go out for dinner.

Of course that will never actually happen. It’s not like magic genies are real… but if they are, I better get one!

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Time’s Been Up

At this year’s Golden Globes ceremony, the usual sea of colorful ball gowns and loud accessories were missing from the red carpet. Instead, all but three women wore completely black dresses.

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Their dark choices were in accordance with the Time’s Up movement, founded on the first of this year, in response to the Harvey Weinstein allegations, with nearly 100 women accusing him of misconduct, and the #MeToo movement. Its mission statement is as follows:

“TIME’S UP is a unified call for change from women in entertainment for women everywhere. From movie sets to farm fields to boardrooms alike, we envision nationwide leadership that reflects the world in which we live.”

The movement is backed by hundreds of actresses and other entertainers, who sent out a massive social media campaign on New Year’s Day. Just a week later, they all donned their midnight black dresses in protest towards the years of abuse faced by many female entertainers. Since then, they’ve inspired the adornment of white roses at this year’s Grammy Awards.

Ironically, many men who donned the Time’s Up pins with their black suits at the Golden Globes have since been accused of sexual misconduct, such as Aziz Ansari and James Franco.

Many Time’s Up activists were also present at this year’s Women’s March, which was held on January 20. With notable speeches from Natalie Portman, Viola Davis, and Halsey, the massive crowds got even more heartbreaking first-hand accounts of the grotesque incidents found throughout the industry.

With all of these very public protests, people are finally recognizing years of sexual misconduct from producers, directors, casting agents, and more.

It is abhorrent and dehumanizing for a person to be put in the position of having an undeserved, unwanted sexual encounter forced upon them, with health of their career being at stake lest they say “no.” When a thirteen-year-old actress receives a rape fantasy in her fan mail, as Natalie Portman recounted in her Women’s March speech, she loses a slice of innocence that she cannot get back.

Foundations like Time’s Up are certainly bolstering this movement, making the harsh reality of the age-old misconduct much more public than previous years. Finally, sufferers of sexual assault are being heard.

This year, I’ve already seen so many cases against previously respected men. Harvey Weinstein was fired from his company following an article published by the New York Times and Kevin Spacey was removed from the fifth season of House of Cards.

Finally, abusers and rapists are receiving repercussions for their actions. Not just in Hollywood, but throughout many different industries.

On January 24, Larry Nassar, former Olympic doctor, was sentenced to another 40-175 years in prison (added to his 60 year sentencing for child pornography possession) for the decades of molesting and raping young gymnasts under his care. Notable athletes, such as Aly Raisman and Jordan Weiber, have spoken out against their abuser, even appearing in court to deliver impact statements.

With so much awareness, the time for change has come. No longer can we sit idly by when a man or woman is accused of assaulting another. No longer can we support known rapists. No longer can we support sympathizers of abusers.

While Time’s Up is a good first step, it’s the first of many we have to take to reach change. If a victim comes forward, they have to be taken seriously. They have to see that their bravery is matched with justice.

Woody Allen, who has been accused of sexually abusing his adopted daughter, Dylan Farrow, is still making films. While many actors have spoken out against him, he is still in the industry.

Casey Affleck, who went to court for sexually harassing two women back in 2010, won best actor last year. However, he has been asked to not present at the 2018 Oscars this year.

Melanie Martinez was accused by former best friend Timothy Heller of being raped, but Martinez fans instantly shot down the victim’s narrative, calling it “attention-seeking” and “jealous.”

Lena Dunham has admitted to experimenting sexually with her little sister in her book Not That Kind of Girl. However, she still went on to act in another three seasons of hit show Girls and continues to act in many other projects.

Another sad reality is that too often people across all walks of life are being abused. Sexual misconduct isn’t a “Hollywood issue.” Everyday, thousands of people in offices, farms, bus stops, stores, schools, and even in their own homes are being sexually abused. The issue goes beyond what 300 celebrity signatures can achieve.

No matter the instance, thousands of victims are still being de-legitimized daily. No amount of colorless attire can deter from the sad reality that every 98 seconds an American is sexually assaulted. No amount of celebrity endorsements can stop the years of distress faced by victims after their assaults. While time’s up for sexual misconduct, it’s been up for far too long.

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A Biography for Stress

I’m not one for advice.

Actually, I probably give some of the worst advice I’ve ever heard.

But, one thing that I’m probably even worse at is managing stress, and, more importantly, giving people advice about it. Because, in all actuality, I have no idea how to manage it and I don’t think anyone really does.

Stress comes in all shapes and sizes. It can be as little as that paper you know you should have enough time to write for your English class, yet you psych yourself out because, after all, it is a big chunk of your grade. And stress can be as big as….. well anything. It can take over your life and control you if you let it.

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For me, one of my larger stresses I refer to as competition stress. This comes with all sports competitions, no matter the magnitude of it. It’s the pressure and the anxiety sitting on your shoulders like a bird watching its pray from way above so the pray can’t see them.

Lastly, the big stress, the whole shebang, is what I call the stalker stress; this is the type that even if you kick, scream, run, and hide it’ll find you somehow. It is the type of stress that resembles a person you don’t want to get to know, and one that you hope doesn’t know you. It is the boogie man hiding under you bed when you’re little and the clown hiding behind your door. It’s the reason that you hate walking alone in the dark because you don’t exactly know what you’re scared of at this point, you just know you’re scared.

But, I’ve learned one thing, and if people do ask me about stress this is the only true piece of advice I can give: it’s hard to manage stress, but it’s even harder not to be scared of it. So once you manage how to not be scared of the inevitable, life becomes easier, I don’t exactly know how, it just does.

P.S. I don’t want you to go on thinking that I have it all figured out, because I don’t. I’m so far away from it, but I’m managing, and will continue to until I can stop stressing about the little things and go on living life. But that will be a while, because it’s difficult and stressful.

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I often wonder how people write autobiographies. That wonderment often boils down to my curiosity of how life plays out. How does one go about living a life interesting enough to write about?

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What is it to live a life full of intrigue and well meaning? I haven’t lived that much of life but there are so many people my age or within margin that have already lived such extraordinary lives. I feel like I’m playing a game of catch up with a future I can’t even see.

How do I live an extraordinary life worth marking down in the books? How do I reach a point where I feel confident enough to write it myself?

I often wonder how people write autobiographies; do remarkable lives just happen or are they fought for? Am I fighting hard enough? Am I fighting for one at all? What does it take for a life to be incredible?

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25 things to be happy about

I’m out of ideas for this week’s blog post, so here are twenty five things that make me happy. Hopefully the thought of them will make you happy too.

  1. The smell of orange blossoms
  2. “The look” exchanged between my best friend and me when we have something to tell each other
  3. Hanging my hand out the window of the car
  4. Sun shining through the blinds in the morning
  5. Laughing for no reason
  6. Swimming on a hot day

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  7. A favorite song playing on the radio
  8. Eating watermelon on the beach
  9. The sound of rain
  10. Sunsets
  11. Excitement for the future
  12. Good friends
  13. Self-confidence
  14. The feeling of pond water up my nose
  15. Stopping at fruit stands on the side of the highway
  16. Walking in grass without shoes on
  17. Hugs
  18. Finally being able to catch my breath after a long run
  19. Finishing homework early
  20. Visiting new places
  21. Seeing someone I love after I haven’t seen them in a while
  22. Throwing a ball for my dog
  23. Singing at the top of my lungs
  24. Riding my bike down a hill
  25. Dancing even though I know I’m a terrible dancer
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