It’s just shy of 2AM and I’ve just read this blog in its entirety. 

I almost feel sorry for the girl I was just less than a year ago. So confused. So uncertain. So afraid.

I am happy, now.

Although things are not perfect, nor will they be any time soon, things have gotten better. I have forgiven. I have learned. I have taken the things of my past and used them as steps to my future instead of crutches. 

I love my mother, as well as her boyfriend. I am in love with a wonderful soul. I know who my friends are, and my sister is the best of them all. I live with the most amazing people, and am so lucky to be surrounded by people who matter.

I am alive, and for now, that’s all that matters.

At the age of fourteen, before texting became a regular occurrence in my daily life, I had a cell phone that could make and receive calls, and that, sometimes, doubled as a walkie talkie. As much as I love the advancement of technology from then until now, I miss the unimportance of that phone, but the amount of importance it did hold.

There were those late nights where I would stay up until two, three in the morning, quietly whispering through the speaker and hearing a soft voice on the other end. It was those nights, where I’d pretend to be asleep as soon as my parents’ door opened and a sliver of light was seen under my bedroom door, that I learned to see deeper than skin. Those were the nights that secrets were told, fears were revealed, love was felt.

Tonight felt like that. It’s been a mere day and a half, yet I long for him like water. He has become the breeze on my face, the air I breathe. 

We’ve had nights full of secrets and fears and love, nights where we lay in darkness, the room filled with our words, stories, truths; but as the second night without him curling up next to me begins, the phone call I received could almost replace his warmth. There’s just something about hearing a voice you know and love on the other end of the receiver. There’s something about the way you can visualize the words forming, the facial expressions made as the sounds are created. 

It is hard to look back on this body of words from months past and believe that I am the same person I was when I first began. That is silly. I am not the same, I am now alive when I thought I had died. I am feeling for the first time in what seems like forever. I have learned to love again. I am alive.

There is no catch, no “but” at the end of this. Just a simple post to tell the fact: I am alive.

I was once fourteen, giggling on one end of a late night phone call. I am now just shy of twenty, and am not afraid to say that I enjoy those late night phone calls now more than I believe I ever did before.

We grow and we age, but we are the same. We have a trials, and we have our valleys, but nothing stays that way for long. We are like the ocean with our tides, we are like the seasons- ever changing. 

Breathe. Take a single, deep breath. I have learned to let go. I have learned that it will get better. I have learned.

It must be something about being in love. It must be something about being alive.

I fall for those who have already been in love, those who have already been broken.

I am no magician. I can not fix the hearts of these boys. 

I remember writing when I was sad. I would let every thought of mine pour out onto the keyboard and wash away. It made me feel safe, knowing that a stranger may see my words, feel my emotions, and I would feel safe in knowing that I was not alone.

I became happy for a while, but all good things must come to an end.

And now here I am again, pouring my thoughts out. Although my scenery is different, the feelings are still there. I wish you were around. I wish you weren’t. I wish you were different. I wish you had stayed the same.

I keep feeling as if I’ll never find someone who understands me. I can’t even begin to compare my knight in shining armor to anyone in particular because as each day passes I don’t believe I’ve ever truly been in love. There is only one man on this earth who has truly broken my heart, and it was not a silly boy or a dumb boyfriend. No one will ever be able to heal me of this and prove to me that all guys aren’t the same. The one who was supposed to be there through all of the heartbreak is the one that broke me. 

It’s not even like I need a Prince Charming or someone to turn everything around. I am fine on my own. 

I have a hole in my heart, and I’m not sure if it can ever be filled.

And if somehow it is, it will never ever be the same.

Have you ever thought about love? I mean, really thought about it? You have? Good, then keep reading.

Our interpretation of love is so unbelievably skewed. We all grow up believing that our parents are soulmates. We watch cartoons of two people falling in love and getting their happily ever after. We have our elementary school crushes where we giggle about how cute they are and get tongue tied when they try to talk to us.

That’s where it starts.

As a young child, you are mean to the one you like, and they to you. We watch movies that leave us with “happily ever after” so we continue to search for that idea of what love and relationships should be like. We create in our minds the idea of the perfect person, and we become critical of everyone we meet to see if they fit our mold. We throw away good people because they don’t have something we want, yet find ourselves broken time and time again by people we thought had potential to be perfect.

We find, then, that our parents are far from soulmates, and it rips us apart at the seams. We model what we look for in a partner based on our parents and their love. Most times, girls model what they want after their father, boys after their mother. What happens when that is no longer their for us to look up to?

You find someone you think is great, but soon realize that the two of you just don’t work together. There are fights, arguments, and, eventually, a breakup. Your heart feels like it has been torn out, but only then do you realize that what you had was real. It takes heartbreak to realize that love exists. But the deep cut stays and eventually becomes a scar. It never leaves. Knowing this, you want to go back, make it work, because you believe it can be worth it. You find out it won’t work, future plans are different, your love is moving away, as are you. Your lives will be on different paths. Love fails us.

We see love fail us time and time again, yet that’s all anyone wants, longs for. So many people feel unhappy unless they are able to call another “theirs”.

So where does the solution begin?

I can’t answer that. I am young, I have loved, I have been broken, and I am still trying to pick up the pieces.

The vicious cycle continues.

Thoughts keep rattling around my skull, and, again, I am left with a decision. I’ve felt so helpless in the last six months (has it really been that long?) of my life without a home, without a family. The people I held dear tossed me aside like nothing, and I put my faith in trust in others that should have never gotten a second glance. I know that now, more than ever, what I need is a family and a home. Mine is broken into so many pieces that I am unsure if things could ever feel normal again. What I called mine a year ago is no longer, and will no longer be. With so many crossroads and decisions for me to make in my life in the next few months, I feel so overwhelmed, so helpless, that I’m going to choose the wrong, choose something to set me on the rocky, steep, unpaved path. But then I think, maybe that could be the right path. I know that whatever I decide, I’m going to be okay. I’ve learned that in the past half a year. Although my thoughts consume me tonight, and often, does not mean that my decisions will be bad, that my decisions are the most important thing in the entire world. You fall, and you get back up. That’s what life’s all about, right?

I’m staying positive, even with so many negatives surrounding me. I can’t fall asleep, but it’s okay, there’s always tomorrow night to catch up on sleep.

I’ve been really good about going to bed when I’m tired, taking to my bed before my thoughts rattle and consume me. But tonight, I had to help with wedding favors, and of course, the conversation took some turns that were unnecessary for me to think about. 

“Is your mom coming to the bridal shower tomorrow?”

What I said: I’m not sure. I haven’t really talked to her about it.

What I wanted to say: My mom sucks. She barely takes time out of her day to give me a text, let alone a phone call or a visit. The only reason she even showed up to my event last night was to show off her new, stupid boyfriend, who I didn’t want to ever meet. I wanted to punch him in the face so bad. I’m pretty upset with her, as well as my dad, so no, I haven’t talked to her at all, and especially not about something that has nothing to do with me.

“Have you talked to Elder ———? He was asking if you’d send him some pictures. You know, that’s what keeps missionaries going sometimes… Are you coming with us to his homecoming in August?”

What I said: (Besides mostly keeping quiet and avoiding the topic) No, I’ve been kinda busy. But I did thank him for the package he sent… Probably not because I’ll be in Santa Barbara…”

What I wanted to say: It’s a bad idea for me to keep talking to him. It scares me that he’s amazing. We have so much in common, he’s a wonderful person, but I’m not Mormon, nor will I ever be. There’s no use leading him on when I can never be a wife to him, when I am never going to attend BYU-I. I’m not special, and when he meets me, he’ll see that, so no, I probably won’t be going to his homecoming either. Don’t worry, it’s just easier for everyone this way.

And then of course there’s all the wedding preparations… the favors, the bouquets, the song choosing, everything. It kills me that I don’t want to get married anymore, and not for reasons anyone would assume. Even though my dad may have apologized, this relationship is not fixed, and it won’t be for a very long time. I don’t want him to walk me down the aisle, nor do I want to get married in a church. That would kill him. How to I have a father-daughter dance when we don’t have a song to call our own like him and my sister do, when I know in the back of my mind the things that he’s said to me? And then there’s my mom and her idiotic manfriend. My dad would murder him. Hmm, do I really want a full on brawl to happen at my wedding between my dad and the guy my mom happens to be dating, no. He’d even make a huge deal out of my mom even being there, I bet. It’s all about family, and sharing something special with all of your family and friends. Who would I even invite if I was to get married? I barely talk to any of my extended family, and I don’t have many friends. Not getting married would just be easier. But doing all of those party favors made me want it, crave it so bad. But I know I can’t. (Almost) every marriage I’ve seen has failed. Why would I want to be a part of that 50+% that gets divorced? No thank you.

I’m in a horrible mood and I just want to cry and sleep and not wake up for days, but there is so much to do, and there is never enough time to do it all.

I know what kind of person you are. I finally have figured it out. 

I just read your blog back to when we broke up, and couldn’t read it any more after reading this:

“If you ever change your mind just know, ill always be here.”

Here I am, but where are you? You seem to have forgotten. Remember talking that one day, ditching school because we were too wrapped up in each other, listening to Phoenix while laying on my bed? I remember telling you I couldn’t kiss you anymore, that I needed time because I was hurt. You leaned over and whispered, Do you know what this song is called? Girlfriend. 

I’m done. I won’t sit here and be an option for you. I’m ready to start over, build from the ground up, but you are much more interested in something exciting, something about instant gratification. Your other choice, the girl in the lead, is everything I want to be. She’s better than I am. Take her. I’m pulling myself from the race. I no longer want to be an option for you. I wanted to be your first choice. But I suppose the wounds have scarred and healed and you no longer want to rip them open like you were once willing.

Reading your blog, that feeling of wanting me didn’t last long. The second another girl caught even the smallest bit of your interest, thoughts of me went down the drain. So it happened with the next girl and the next. You chase love, you chase instant relationship, instant gratification, and I refuse to give that to you any more.

I hope we can figure out this summer, because this seems to pose a problem. 

All I can do is wait and hope.

But I am no longer waiting and hoping for you. I’m gone.

I just have to be out of here before the McIntyre’s get home from church. I don’t want them to see me like this. 

The last few days have jus, I don’t know, not made me feel very good. I drank again, twice in a row, and it wasn’t a big deal. I guess it was nice to know that I can drink and handle myself and not feel like an idiot, but it was so unsatisfying that it almost hurt to wake up the next day knowing that I did that. 

I went to a friend’s baby’s birthday party yesterday, to have her mom walk over to me, give me a hug, and tell me she’s sorry about my parents. I’m sick of the pity. I hate that when I visit my grandparents, where my mom (kinda) lives, she’s never there. Or that when I leave, my grandpa hands me money because he “just feels bad”. I don’t want pity, but I want someone to understand, care, and it doesn’t really feel like anyone does.

I hate this empty feeling. I feel as if everything I ever gave to anyone has be ripped, torn, burned, trashed. Besides the obvious from my dad, even my mom, sister, friends are no longer the people I want to be around. Even this one boy, who swore he cared, swore he’d be there, isn’t. He leaves me feeling empty inside. My mom, who says I can call her anytime, only answers when she’s not busy, and she’s always busy out in Palm Springs with some idiot guy she says she’s “dating”. Bullshit. My sister went Prom dress shopping without me, and that left me feeling so hollow, so bruised. 

A friend told me the other night that I spend all my time with idiot guys who rub off on me. It’s true, and I don’t even care. When the people I feel close to let me down, I turn to people who don’t ask me how I’m feeling and go right into just making me feel something for a little while. I don’t even care anymore.

Everything is so unsatisfying. I feel as if I’m drinking water only to have it not quench my thirst. 

I want to leave, I want to move away, I want to pick up and never come back.

I just want to see a sunrise after it being so cloudy for far too long.

A - Someone who I can just hang out with. No pressure. Let’s light up another hookah bowl, grab a few beers, and just watch YouTube videos and laugh our asses off all night. I want to be able to scream “PETER PAN” at the top of my lungs and be wrestled to shut my mouth. Someone who isn’t a brat and will let me pay sometimes, because I’m not high maintenance. That “you’re just one of the guys” feeling.

B - Someone who I can just be with. Let’s run away from the real world, sit on a mountain, find an odd coffee shop, smoke a few American Spirits because all we want is to feel free. I want to be able to lay down and listen to that indie shit music and just be able to hear the two of us breathe. Someone who isn’t afraid to tell me when my feet smell from wearing Toms, or admit to not having time to take a shower. Complete peacefulness.

C - Someone to turn up the heat with. Let’s sneak into a bedroom, undress, slide under the covers, and not think about emotional attachment: just have pure fun. I want to walk along the beach, have cute moments, be able to take pictures without being looked at weird, but be able to lay in bed without clothes for hours after waking up with the window wide open, listening to waves. Someone who knows what they want out of life and knows how they’ll get there. That “let’s party, but not let it last forever” mindset.

D - Someone who is unconditional. Let’s lay in bed and take turns scratching each other’s back, scream at the TV while watching sports, have family dinners, and reminisce and make jokes. I want to drive at all hours of the night and listen to the rain, lay beneath the covers and gaze deeply, plan out a future and name our kids, and just have that comfort of “forever”. Someone who knows where I’ve been, but wants me regardless. That “first love” comfort.

… although we wish it was.