June 12th, 2012

It was fate. 

It had to be. Here I am, 13 hours away from home, from my family, in 100 degree heat. 

Only fate could have brought me to the place I am today. Looking at my Timehop these past two days really got me thinking. Four years ago yesterday, I met the man who would end up changing my life. Four years ago today I left orientation wondering what college would bring. And in October, four years we’ll have been together. 

It had to have been fate that brought him to me. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have finished college. I wouldn’t have dared to fight and grow and be. Fate knew what I needed, and fate provided. 

I love you, Joe. 

Asking: Right or Rude?

Sitting at work, I’m listening to Kidz Bop. How I feel about this is a different story entirely. However, “Rude” by Magic! was playing. And I always think about the song as it plays. I think long and hard about it because it bothers me.

Here’s my thought process behind it: The boyfriend goes and asks the dad for permission to marry his daughter. The dad basically says, “Over my dead body.” Then the boyfriend responds, “Yeah, well she’ll follow me to the ends of the earth, so she’s going to marry me anyway. Fuck you.” This whole situation is mind-boggling to me. Who do these men think they are to decide the fate of this girl? No one asked her opinion. They are just duking it out over who has the “right” to this girl, as if she’s a piece of property. In my mind, I like to think we’ve gotten past this mindset, but alas, it seems we have not.

See, my boyfriend and I have talked about this whole idea of “asking permission” before. I’ve told him explicitly numerous times that I do not want him to ask my dad to marry me if he decides to propose. Yet, he still feels as if he is doing the wrong and improper thing if he does not ask. But here’s how I feel– I am no one’s property. The decision of whether or not I marry someone depends entirely on if I want to or not. That simple. The only relevant people in an engagement, in my opinion, are the people getting engaged. That’s it. I love my dad. I love him and appreciate everything he’s done for me. He’s been a great dad, and part of that is letting go and allowing your child to make their own decisions. That includes marriage. So, if you ask me, everyone in that situation was being rude for not letting that girl use her own mind to make her own decision.

It was lose-lose.

Tonight, I stood in the kitchen of my new apartment, packaging meat to be frozen. My boyfriend and I were singing along to songs that we like, and for some reason, a certain song popped into my head. So, I put that song on. That got me thinking about you. How I first heard it on a mix-tape you gave me. Years ago. You are over three-and-a-half years gone and yet somehow, I still find myself thinking about you from time to time.

You know, we never would have made it.

I never would have admitted that four years ago, but it’s true. We never had a chance.

No matter how much I loved you, or how much you loved me, darker forces were at work.

Depression is a terrible thing. Especially when mixed with sad, repressed, outcast kids. Whether it be a broken home and severe mommy issues, or an overbearing parent that restricted our access, we each had our own demons. When I was preparing to leave, you told me not to drink. You didn’t trust me. But didn’t care that it killed me every time you lit a cigarette. I had seen firsthand what those can do.

You weren’t the only one who was selfish, though. There was plenty I didn’t notice. Signs I missed. Sometimes I put my feelings first because I didn’t realize how serious the whole thing was.

But the problem is, depression has no reasoning. It’s hard enough to keep a relationship when one person has depression. It’s hard to balance each other’s needs while one person is struggling to survive every day. But when both of you are suffering independently, it’s impossible. It’s impossible to try and help one another when you can barely help yourself.

We never had a chance. But I learned a lot from us. I learned how to be a more attentive partner. I learned how to care for myself so that I can then care for someone else. I learned how to be a better person towards those in need.

It was tough, and we tried our hardest, but it was a lose-lose situation.

Depression makes no sense, but I thank it, and you, for the lessons I’ve learned from it.

A late-night thought.

I’m on my way to Myrtle Beach right now. It’s midnight and the CD playing is a bunch of love songs. They make me remember high school. They reminded me of a moment.

Have you ever had a moment so pure and so raw that it cemented itself in your mind? This moment was the moment in my life when I think I felt most beautiful.

We were kissing in the stairwell. I was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, and you were leaned up against me. You looked at me and kissed me. I remember opening my eyes, meeting yours, and I remember the audible sound of your breath catching. I whispered “What?” at you. And you looked at me and said, “Your eyes are beautiful. The way the sun is hitting them shows a million different colors.”

As I look out the dark windows at the shadows passing me by, I remember the sun shining in that little window in that weird staircase and I remember that way you made my heart flutter.

A memory.

If chivalry is dead, you’re looking in the wrong place.

Something interesting just happened to me.

I was walking down the stairs, carrying my laundry basket. I’m kind of short, so the basket hits my hips in height. As I reached the first floor— I live on the 3rd— a group of 4 guys walked through the door. I waited patiently, apologizing for being in the way. As I went for the door, the 3rd guy in the line looked at his friend behind him and said “Hey, get the door for her.” I smiled and thanked them. I then continued to the laundry room.

As I was loading the washers, I started thinking of it. The fact that those boys wanted to make sure the door was held open so that I wouldn’t struggle opening it with my basket. One tiny act of kindness was enough to change my entire mood because, let’s be real, who ever wants to do laundry? However, I’m used to things like that.

Let’s talk about my boyfriend. We’ve been dating almost a year and a half now. Starting from our very first date, until dinner we went to tonight— it’s his birthday— he has almost always opened the car door for me. Every time we go somewhere. As soon as we head to the car, he walks to my side first, opens the door, and then shuts it when I’m settled. He opens the door for me every time we enter a building. He puts his arm around me when we’re walking and it’s cold. He sometimes takes me out or brings me flowers just because he wants to.

Every single day, he goes out of his way to let me know how much he cares about me.

I don’t think he’s a special case. There are people out there who want to show their love like that. I see it in many people around me. My dad will buy wine for his girlfriend, just because he knows she doesn’t have a lot of money to spend on leisure. They have a glass of wine by the bonfire and just enjoy each other’s company. My boyfriend’s parents do things for one another every day. From their first date, his dad said “I am going to marry you.” And that he did.

Chivalry works both ways though. It isn’t just “a guy thing.” It shouldn’t be an excuse girls use to make their boyfriends do everything for them. I am chivalrous towards my boyfriend. I do his laundry because he hates it. He’ll help me fold, but he really doesn’t like to. I’ll rub his feet for him when they hurt really bad after a round of golf. I try to pay attention to things he wants, and if I have a little extra money, to get those things for him. Chivalry isn’t just a competition to see which guy can get the lady faster. Chivalry is a word to encompass exactly how two people should act towards one another in a relationship.

Chivalry embodies passion, devotion, kindness, courteousness,  and love. It should be a word to describe how two people care about one another. As the times change, so do expectations.

And I expect to be just as chivalrous to my boyfriend as he is to me.

And he’s not alone. There are plenty of chivalrous individuals out there. All you have to do is to look for those qualities that matter. Chivalry isn’t dying; your expectations in a partner are.

With love, XOXO.

#PeopleNeedOtherPeople

TWLOHA is an organization very near and dear to my heart. Their message and what they do is very inspiring to me, especially since I have been in that place and struggle with my emotions every day. Recently on Twitter I have seen them posting, asking their followers what #PeopleNeedOtherPeople means to them. And I guess, this is what it means to me:

When I was a freshman (maybe early sophomore?) in high school, I was texting my best friend at the time. I was not having a good day. I had said, somewhere in there, that I wanted to kill myself.

Her response?

“Then go ahead and do it already.”

And my response? I sobbed.

And after I collected myself, I realized that was not how I wanted it to end.

Wanna know a secret? Fear is what kept me alive then. Fear of what happens after you die, fear of if it would hurt, fear of how my family would feel. Fear drove my life.

Now, as a sophomore in college, I still have terrible days. My moods can be crazy sometimes. I can be the world’s biggest bitch, know I’m being the world’s biggest bitch, hate myself for being the world’s biggest bitch, but be unable to stop being the world’s biggest bitch.

But love keeps me going.

I love my boyfriend.

I love my friends.

I love my school.

I love my family.

I love being alive. I love experiencing the world. I love excelling.

But those days I’m down? Those days when I’m being the worst? I talk now. I’ll talk to my friends and my boyfriend and my professors and my family and my counselor and through this, I’ll be okay. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully “okay.” I don’t know if one day I’ll wake up, and that occasional feeling of wanting to die or wanting to hurt myself will be completely gone. I don’t know if that’s something that ever goes away. But I do know that through positive human interaction I can feel better and I WILL BE OKAY. I will be okay. I will survive.

But more than that. I will LIVE.

I need people because they make me want to live when I can’t find any other reason. I need people because they help me find myself. I need people because being alone sucks.

People need other people, and that’s okay.

Oh, and P.S. If you have a person who tells you to “go ahead,” find a new person or new people. I found new people, and I’ve never been happier.

With love, XOXO.

Girls only say “I hate you” to boys they love? I don’t think so.

There’s a quotation frequently found floating around the Twitter spectrum. From my research, and by research I mean a Google search, it seems to originate from “Beware” by Big Sean.

While it is frequently paraphrased, I see it most commonly in this form: “Because girls only say ‘I hate you’ to the boys that they love.”

Now, I understand that this song is about cheating and heartbreak and how a slighted woman can be considered dangerous, but let’s take this phrase and analyze it a little bit.

First and foremost, if I see you tweet it, and more than once at that, I assume that this collection of words resonates deep within you. You must find some sort of truth behind them. So, let me ask you: do you actually say “I hate you” to the gentleman you claim to love and care about?

NO! Because if you do, let me tell you…you’re probably not a quality partner, and the male you are dating is clearly not a good person to date.

Case and point: My boyfriend and I have been dating for almost a year now. If and when we fight, it consists of very passive-aggressive behavior. We get very sassy and rude to one another. It is uncomfortable, to say the least.

But, 1. This doesn’t happen often. And, 2. I NEVER TELL HIM I HATE HIM.

Maybe I hate how he’s acting, or maybe I hate if he says something a certain way to me. And I’m sure he hates when I say something specific or hates when I get into pissy moods. But he has never told me that he hates me.

And why should he? If he truly loves me, why would he ever hate ME? Love is supposed to be a deep, meaningful experience. Regardless of our flaws, regardless of when the other does activity we despise, if we truly love each other, none of that matters. None of those petty things will cause us to hate one another.

If you truly love someone, you would never tell them you hate them because the thought of being without them is unbearable.

If you truly love someone, when you fight or argue or squabble, all you’re thinking of the whole time is “God, I wish we’d stop so we can make up and cuddle.” Fighting drives me crazy! All it does is make me feel shitty. I hate it because I hate to think that someone I love and care about is upset at me.

Never, not even once, has it crossed my mind to tell him that I hate him.

So, I guess if you’re hating him, maybe he isn’t meant for you. If he is doing things that make you hate him, maybe he isn’t a very good person. And maybe if you are doing things that make him say that he hates you, you aren’t a very good person either.

Stop. Pause. Reflect.

And, a bit of advice? Don’t get your life mantras from rap or hip hop songs.

With love, XOXO.

The canceling of a hiatus.

I woke up out of a dark and dismal slumber to find my vision impaired.

Regardless of whether I’m awake or not, my being is in a perpetual state of darkness. Darkness exists in everyday life.

Darkness can be found as the sun sets.

Darkness can be found in the very deepest corners of the world’s oceans.

Darkness can even be found deep within us, shrouding what is good with an illusion of terrible consequences.

Even through darkness, however, one can learn to see the light.

The stars will illuminate the midnight sky.

Specialized and evolved fish will light up the depths of the ocean.

And deep within us, love will light up the soul, creating a clear and vivd path out of the spiraling darkness.

So, I woke up from my dark and dismal slumber. When my soul naps, I feel the chill of the dark spread across my very being. But somehow, love brings me back. Love always brings me back. It brings the light into my being and pushes away the cold so I can once again feel the warmth of goodness and see everything that I was too blinded to see.

Love is a powerful thing. And love will always save me.

With love, XOXO.

A realization.

This is for you.

I loved you.

I loved you like the stars love the night. I loved you like the clouds love the sky and the grass loves the sun. I loved you with every fiber of my being. From every atom of every molecule that comprises every cell and enzyme and bodily system, I loved you.

I do not know if you believe me.

I do not know if you believe me, but if you doubt me, you are wrong. I loved you. Nothing about us made any sort of sense, but believe me when I say I loved you.

We had plans. Do you remember? A rooftop garden and a London flat and a rebellious wedding and a chubby baby boy…baby, we had plans. When I moved away, those plans got me through the day. When I moved away, the thought of your ukulele as we had a nerf-gun war on the hottest day that summer got me through the day. When I moved away, the thought of your laugh and your arms around mine as we kissed in the snow got me through the day.

I loved you for so much of those four years, that when you left, it made no sense. I think about the text I got the day my family came to visit. I think about how desperate I was. I think about how pathetic I made myself seem. I think of these things, and I am ashamed. I admit that I loved you, but I don’t know if I can admit that you controlled me. It taints the image of you that remains in my mind.

When I think of you now, I try not to think of the bad. If I think of the bad, then I am admitting to myself that I wasted years on something that I should’ve seen was wrong. I wasted those years beating myself up for not being good enough. I wasted those years when neither one of us could fix the other. We had to fix ourselves. We couldn’t depend on anyone else. We were too blind to see it.

When you left, I wanted to die. I had made my life about you. I had wanted to die. Nothing made sense as I laid in my bed, as I missed class, as I let myself become pathetic and lowly and weak. Nothing made sense.

When I moved on, you felt betrayed. You felt like it took too little time. Like those years meant nothing. But listen babe, I have a lot of love. I have never been someone who could keep my love to myself. I have to give it away. So I moved on. But do not let that fool you. I did love you, once. And I believe that love for you will always remain somewhere deep within my heart. I do not think I can ever completely forget my first true love. But I had to move on.

I loved you. I loved you, and then I lost you. So I learned to love without you.

Thank you. You gave me so many great things. But the greatest of them all was the ability to love someone besides you.

With love, XOXO.

I prefer untitled poems.

Sunlight pours in

Rushing, like a river

Drowning our faces

In a hazy golden warmth