About a year ago, there was a guy I had a crush on, who I literally broke myself over. But I was never upset with him, because I just wanted him to be happy, and if I wasn’t what made him happy, then I had to let it go. To this day I still wish the very best to him, and I hope he finds peace in the way he lives his life today.

One night, when I was really upset about the whole situation, my best friend told me that I’m “like a storybook character.” She explained that I was this (so she called) beautiful girl who was head over heels for a guy who would never truly appreciate what she had to offer. That I would give anything for someone who barely looked my way. Looking back on it, she was probably right, although I didn’t want to admit it at the moment.

Of course, she then proceeded to tell me, if you go to the climax of the book, someone is bound to come along out of the blue, perfect for me in every way, just waiting to take me into his arms.

And she was right about that one, too.

This boy that has come into my life… he’s the one thing that I’m absolutely sure of. I’m sure that his smile will make my knees weak, I’m sure the touch of his hand will make me forget all of the bad things in my life, and I’m sure that when I wake up tomorrow morning, I’ll love him even more than I did the day before. And that he’ll still love me, too.

But that’s the thing about realizing you’re a storybook character… you begin to have the faith of one. In every story, there’s a time when the main character gets scarred and starts to lose faith in everything around her. After that point, it’s hard for her to trust anyone or anything for a long, long time. Her heart is damaged, and there isn’t much anyone can do to fix it.

Throughout all of this, the boy who comes in to save everything is supposed to stick around. He’s supposed to hold her hand in every danger and hold her until the sadness goes away. He’s supposed to deal with everything the girl throws at him, no matter what that entails. If he really loves her, he’s supposed to stick around, even when things are at their worst.

And after all of that, she’s supposed to get better… right?

My “love interest,” so called, has done all of this for me. He is the one person in the world I am never hesitant to trust in any way. He is the one person in the world I find complete solace in, no matter what chaos is going on around us. I truly believe that, for whatever insanities live inside of his brain, he will be there for me for a long time to come.

But this brings me to the examination of my storybook heart. I can’t shake the feeling that all of this is too good to be true. That he’s not really who he says he is, and he’ll end up leaving me within a few months. I can’t bring myself to truly attach to this boy, no matter how perfect for me he may be. And every time I bring this fact up, I can see it breaking his heart a little bit.

People say that being rational is a good thing. That it’ll help you in life and that it keeps you out of trouble. But if irrationality is the one thing that keeps the person you love happy, then wouldn’t that be what you’re striving for?

I guess my brain doesn’t quite understand that yet. Every time I tell him how much I love him, I ache to add the word “always” to the end of my sentences. But I realize that I am only fifteen years old, and that it’s incredibly stupid to believe you’re going to be with this one person for the rest of your life. I can’t even bring it up, because I don’t want to tell him something that would hurt him in the end. I want to keep him safe and happy, because now I can actually do things like that for someone without being subtle about it. He has made all of my dreams of romance and love come true, and I can’t imagine my life without him.

Even with all of this, though, I can never bring myself to tell him that we’ll be together forever. I’ve thought about it, but I can’t say anything because, well, what if it’s not true? What if in two years he gets tired of me and leaves? Or in six months we have a big fight that no one ever recovers from? I can’t make that promise, because I don’t know exactly what the future holds. I guess it’s my cynical storybook heart, holding me from telling him how I want to be with him until the day I die.

Because… I think it’s the truth. And maybe that truth will change someday, but I’ve got to learn to get past the fact that we don’t know what the future holds. He’s the very best thing that has ever happened to me, and he deserves to know that. I pray one day I’ll bring myself to see that, and I can finally throw caution to the wind, break the bindings of my storybook heart, and promise him forever. Even if I’m not sure it will come true.

 

Best Wishes,

~M.

We hope and we pray. And we hope and we pray. And we hope and we pray and we hope and we pray and we hope and we pray and that’s what we spend most of our adolescent lives doing. But for what, you ask?  Well, most of us for that one person. That one person that will make us feel home no matter where we go. That one person whose face we will think of and immediately smile. That one person who makes everything better, and you know they’ll always be there for you, because they want to be, because they like the way your smile looks and it makes them happy when you’re happy and it makes you happy when they’re happy. And we all dream of that day when we look into that person’s eyes and think about the future. The good kind of future with the hand of another in yours. The kind of future that has “forever” written all over it. The kind of future they write about in fairytales and film about in those girly movies that you watch when you’re with your friends and feel like complaining about your own love life afterwards. Girls, at least. I guess that’s who I’m really talking to. Because no matter how “tough” she is on the outside, each girl has an interior filled with rainbows and puppies and romance and holding hands and taking picnics and little things that make her want to smile for ages. We all feel that, or want to feel that at some point in our lives. But the thing is, we walk around complaining about how we haven’t found it yet. We walk around throwing wishes at 11:11 and shooting stars and coin fountains that we all know will never actually make our wishes come true but hey, we can hope and dream, can’t we? Because if we can’t, what else is there? If we cant, what will we do? If we can’t, we’re forced to face the reality that we only have one another to lean on sometimes, and other girls can just be plain hurtful.

So we wish and we hope and we pray and we spend our whole lives just waiting for the day when we’ll be loved like in those songs and those books and those movies. And then one day… it comes. Or, you think it does. Because, hell, you’re a teenage girl. You don’t know what love really is. You’re not supposed to. That’s why we can live to be 100 years old, so we can learn. And if we know what love, one of life’s greatest mysteries, means by our teenage years, that’s a sign that you’re either a genius, a cynic, or you’re going to die young. If you’re none of these, then you may think you know exactly what love is, but I promise you, you don’t. But the point is that we finally have that moment when there’s something… different about the person we’re with. We don’t know really what it is, but it’s something. Something good, something wonderful, something… amazing. And, well, obviously it’s love, right? Isn’t it? I mean, that’s how they show it in all the movies, and on television, and in those fairytales. We’re supposed to lose ourselves in their every word, right? We’re supposed to go weak in the knees when we see them, right? We’re supposed to get tongue-tied  whenever we talk to them, right? Well… maybe. We don’t actually know. We’re just making it up as we go along. And all of those things happen to us when we finally see this one person, so we know it has to be good, but we can’t really call it love, yet. We don’t know what it is. It’s good, though. We know that.

Meanwhile, we spend all day and all night wondering if they feel the same for us. We wonder if we’re on their minds as constantly as they’re on ours. We wonder if saying something about it would be a good idea, or if we should just shut up about it, because hey, what if it’s not true? What if they don’t feel like that? What if we’re stuck here alone forever, with this pile of dopamine just stuck running around our brain cells, making us spend every waking moment mentally chasing after the one who will never love us back? It’s too much. We can’t do it. But then one day… we do. And, hey, it turns out that they do feel like we do. But there’s still a weird in between. And we don’t know what it is, but there’s a giant sign inserted between us and that one person and it’s screaming THIS IS NOT A RELATIONSHIP. We don’t know why it says that, but it does. So we get stuck in this limbo. And it’s not a bad limbo. It’s kind of nice. It’s kind of nice because it’s a little secret between just us and that one person, and it’s nice to just keep things calm for a while, and its nice to really know where things might be going. But then we over think things. And we try to run away. Not because we want to, but because we feel like it might be best for that other person. There’s got to be someone better for them out there, right? There’s no reason they should stick around when there’s so many better opportunities out there, right?

And then we think about why we’re in this limbo to begin with. We contemplate reasons and past conversations and feelings and everything imaginable, and we come up with one problem. Fear. Fear is what drives us away from saying something in the first place. Fear is what forces us to keep our ideas and feelings locked up and the key thrown away when all we really want to do is scream to the heavens about whatever we feel, when we feel it. Fear is what keeps us in this strange limbo that we can’t decide if we enjoy or not. It is this fear of falling. This fear of losing. This fear of one day walking away from this feeling we thought long ago might have been love. And that fear grabs us by the arms and shakes us and throws us around and messes with our minds and hearts as much as it possibly can until the day we figure out what we have to do. We have to take a deep breath, look the fear in the eyes and call out, YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME. We have to be able to grab that fear back right where they held us, throw it back around, and walk away. The only way we will ever be able to move away from this fear and really take control is to stand up for everything.

We need to stand up and take that chance the fear has been warning us not to take all along. We need to send the fear packing and realize that we control what happens in our lives and we know that there will be risks and scary bumps along the road, but that’s okay because we have trust on our side. We have the trust that will help us push through. The trust that will remind us why we did all of this in the first place. The trust that will get us through till the end… or wherever this whole thing is supposed to go. We have to see that this other person is there because they want to be, there because they want this as much as we do, there because they know the risks and they don’t care. And getting rid of the fear takes time. We all work at our own paces, with our own little requirements and circumstances. But the truth is that we all need to face that fear eventually. If we don’t, we risk never being truly happy. When we do finally face that fear, we must do it with heart. We must do it with soul. We must do it with passion and with love and with hatred and with peace and with violence and with total attachment yet… total abandon.

I’m not here to write an emotional nostalgic blog about how when I was little I didn’t know that I’d need to worry about writing essays and not failing classes and yadda yadda… because I’m really just not in the mood for it today. I just felt like I haven’t posted a blog in a while, and I do still exist on here. I just don’t seem to put aside enough time to write how I want to write.

At the moment, I’m trying to finish my essay on The Grapes of Wrath for my honors English 10 class. It’s frustrating, beause GOW, which is what I will now be referring to the book as, is one of those books that you can read, but if you’re not in the mood to enjoy it, you’re not going to remember anything. It’s a good book, really. But my thing is that I hate being forced to do anything. If I want something done, I’ll do it, but I’d rather not be told what I have to do. Which is stupid, because I’m a 15 year old girl who needs direction if she doesn’t want to die within the next year… But I really just hate being told what to do.

That’s not to say I run around telling adults off all the time. For the most part, I do what I’m told and just grumble about it later… which is kind of what I’m doing now. But I really should get back to my work soon, because I have to be done this essay by three so I can practice my playing test for my strings class, which is another thing I really don’t want to do. I think I’ve just been really lazy this weekend, is all. I actually came home from my friend’s house on Saturday morning and said to myself, “I’m going to go downstairs, lock myself in the office, and get all of this done!” But then my mom decided to take us all out for crepes, and I got home and wanted to sleep for about 20 hours straight. Basically since that day, I haven’t done anything to make progress on any of my homework. After I’m done this essay, I have to outline a chapter in my AP European History textbook, and practice my playing test a little more. So…. I’ll probably be in this tiny office all day. That’s cool.

My goal for every new school year is always to avoid procrastination. Because if I don’t… I end up with days like this, where I’m tired as anything, have a million things on my mind that aren’t school related, and have about five hours of work to do still, at the least. So, I should probably get back to work before I only have an hour left to write four of my five paragraphs in this essay… sorry this post was completely pointless. Better words next time. Best wishes,

~M.

For our summer reading assignment this year, my school had to read Into Thin Air, by John Krakauer. The book was… meh. But a few weeks ago I managed to finish writing the paragraph reflection that we were also assigned to do. I keep reading over it, and for whatever reason, I’m immensely proud of my own work. So…. I thought I’d share it. Here it is, folks, my personal reflection on a book no one seems to know about:

Reading John Krakauer’s Into Thin Air was a surprising experience for me. After reaching the final page of Krakauer’s story, looking back on his initial excitement makes the opening seem incredibly ironic. It made me feel almost a bit sinister, as I found myself becoming amused at watching the utter turmoil of this journey unfold after such an unsuspecting beginning. After noting that he had practically given up climbing for good, it was my assumption that Krakauer would have at least taken the time to contemplate taking part in the journey to Everest’s summit, because of his lack of experience. However, it is clear when he says “I said yes without even pausing to catch my breath” (Into Thin Air, chapter 2, page 28), that Krakauer, though highly informed of the risks, wasn’t about to let rationality get in the way of his “boyhood dream” finally coming true. The irony really set in for me after reading the book’s final lines, where Krakauer’s fellow climber, Neal Beidleman, reflects on an event that happened near the end of their journey. After seeing a break in the storm that had been constantly terrorizing their group, Beidleman attempted to make a break for the base camp that was only visible while the storm had cleared. With people all around him, shouting for help, he made an attempt to aid Yasuko Namba, a Japanese woman who had come along with their group, but she was too weak to walk. The simple realization of not being able to help someone back onto her feet seemed to have scarred Beidleman. “’I can still feel her fingers sliding across my biceps, and then letting go. I never even turned to look back.’” (Into Thin Air, epilogue, page 301) Though Beidleman had no idea that this would be Namba’s last attempt to get to safety, the guilt of leaving her there still haunts him. The overall mood from the beginning of Krakauer’s journey to his and his teammates’ final reflections reveals such a drastic change that is, in itself a huge eye-opener. As the story went on, and things got worse, it became more apparent to me that the age-old saying, “things aren’t always what they appear to be,” really is true. It made sense to be so excited about preparing to complete such a challenging task. None of the climbers could have known what was ahead of them. The thing I find most interesting about Krakauer’s story is that no one knew what lay ahead. It made every devastation that much worse, and every triumph that much more uplifting.

…yep. Hope you enjoyed it! I start school tomorrow, so, that’s the start of a whole new adventure. Bring it on, sophomore year! Best wishes,

~M.

I know she’ll never read this, but there’s a girl who is probably having the best night of her life tonight, and she’s just changed my life. Tonight, August 11th, 2011, Melanie Moore has just won Fox’s brilliant creation of a competition, So You Think You Can Dance. I’ve been watching this show for years, weekly since season 4, and occasionally before then. It has taught me so much about dance. Different styles and steps, creative ideas, and in general, just how badly you have to want it before you get where you need to be. I watched as so many dancers laughed, cried, failed, and just made themselves at home in my heart, as long as the hearts of millions of viewers all over the world. There’s a certain magic you feel when you tune into Fox at 8 on Wednesdays and Thursdays. It’s a sort of inspiration and happiness that you can’t really describe… you just have to feel it.

But this season, there was a certain dancer who seemed to know that place in my heart the moment she stepped onstage for her audition. The way she moved about the stage, leaping, turning, and just dancing her heart out for who she was, it was like I’d never seen anyone like Melanie Moore before in my life. She was graceful yet powerful, so small, yet she seemed to overtake the entire stage… she was everything I wanted to be as a dancer. I don’t know what it was about her, but every time I saw Melanie dance, it just made me want to work harder to get to where she is. I’ve always loved to dance, ever since I was a really little kid. But whenever people asked me what inspired me to do what I do, or who made me want to dance so badly, I really had no answer. It was just something I’ve always done. But now, I just feel like everything that this girl is in her dance, her face, and her personality is everything I’ve ever dreamt of turning into as a young woman.

Tonight, watching the finale and seeing my hero make her own dreams come true just makes me know that there’s still a chance out there for me, if I work hard enough for it. All I’ve ever wanted to do was dance. I have side interests, and I get distracted with them easily, but dance is the only thing I’ve ever known to make me completely forget about everything going on in my life. I’ve never really had much natural talent, though. Everything I’ve ever had with dance, I had to work incredibly hard for. I always felt like the people that got on those shows were born with talent out the wazoo, and they never really had to try very much to get where they are today. But for some reason, watching Melanie kind of changed that for me. For whatever reason, I could see her struggles, her heartaches, her victories, and her triumphs all in her eyes, ever step she took. And with every movement she made, it just made me want to be where she was so much more. An old indian saying, as quoted on the side of my homepage, says: “to hear one dance is to hear one’s heart speak.” Melanie Moore, I have heard your heart not only speak, but shout, sing, and scream to the heavens. I feel as though through your dance, I have watched your life’s story on a reel, and every struggle, every triumph… it’s just another reason for me to get back on that dance floor whenever I feel like I’m not good enough to make it out there.

Everyone has struggles in their lifetime. Everyone goes through things that change them, for better and for worse. Those who love what they do when through so much to get to where they are, and if they wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, then they did something right. I used to lack motivation when it came to my dancing. I loved it, and I really did want to do it professionally, but I would always go to train, or stretch, or work on a routine, and think to myself, what am I doing? I don’t stand a chance. And after that, I’d just walk away. After carefully watching Melanie’s journey to the top, I realized that everyone stands a chance, if they want it badly enough. The work will be hard and long, but it’s always worth it in the end.

Melanie, you are a beautiful person, inside and out. Your talent far surpasses that of any dancer I have ever seen in any performance. The beauty and power and soul that I see in everything you do is just so remarkable… it makes me thank God every day that I have dance in my life, so that no matter what might be going on in the outside world, I can lose myself in the movement. I’ve found it impossible to try and hold a conversation about anything with anyone while you’re dancing. Everything you do has such poise and character, such spunk and yet such abandon… I honestly don’t think there is anything that you can’t do. Your dream has come true, Melanie. Now go live it with inspiration and pride, so we can all see just how it’s done. You’ll always be my hero. The best of wishes,

~M.

So, it’s about 12:30am and I have school tomorrow and the majority of my homework has remained untouched. However, I’ve been thinking about something someone said to me recently, and I can’t help but write about it now, before the post idea leaves my mind.

I really don’t remember where I saw this, or heard it, for that matter. But it spoke to me, and I just need to talk about it for a little while. I saw somewhere that no one can say that you’ve failed or succeeded, because success is defined by the person achieving it. So being successful at life is whatever you want it to be. This made me think, what is success to me? But to be honest, I knew right away. Maybe it’s cliche, but whenever I think of success, the only thing that comes to my mind is love.

It’s incredibly relevant and explained very clearly in many of my posts that I am a hopeless romantic. I fully believe that everyone was born with someone out there in the world made to complete them, and that God would bring them together one way or another. And I’ve always loved the idea of being in love. Having one person on your mind all the time, and knowing you’re on theirs. Being able to look at someone and not care about any of their flaws, just seeing how perfectly flawed they really are. Looking someone in the eyes, and knowing with all of your heart and soul that you were meant to spend the rest of your life with them. It’s all so poetic, and to know that something that wonderful can exist in a world such as ours just makes life worth living.

But I’ve never experienced that sort of thing before. I’ve had crushes, sometimes ones so major I had to worry for my mental health. But that doesn’t make me a romantic. That makes me a teenage girl. I think what really makes me a romantic is that I love love with anyone. Meaning, if two people are in love, it just makes me happier than anything else on the planet. Even if I’m not involved in any way. I can see that happiness, read the feeling in their eyes and words, and know they’re completely head over heels. It takes a true romantic to discover love in others, not just yourself.

And I hear words in love songs, and I watch romantic movies, and I see pictures taken and drawn of these lucky people… these people who get to share love, and I just want to be them. When I was younger, I didn’t see the value in love. I was looking to be a friend to laugh with and play on the swings with. What’s funny is that I only got love when I didn’t want it. All throughout elementary school, most of my friends were boys, but I never understood that spending one-on-one time with them meant we were dating. They knew, but I didn’t until we stopped hanging out. This sort of thing happened a lot, and I look back now and I wish things could be like that now. These days, I want love… to love and to be loved… so badly, that I don’t know how to just be friends with a guy. I can do it, but it’s incredibly hard for the first few months of the friendship not to fall into this fake feeling that I recognize as love and don’t realize until later that was just feelings I made up in my head so that maybe… just maybe, I could feel that feeling, like in the movies, or in those songs.

To some people, succeeding is becoming what they’ve always dreamed of. To others, it’s just making money. But to me, I’ll always think of success as seeing someone for the first time and knowing that this is the person you were meant for. And the thing about success is that people want it so badly, they’ll stop at nothing to get it. With love, you kind of have to take the backseat and let it happen sometimes. And I’ve discovered that waiting is perhaps one of the hardest things to do to become successful. But I know in my heart that I want that success. I want it so badly, I refuse to stop for anything until I get it.  I will fall in love one day, it just takes time. That’s one thing I know I have plenty of. Best wishes,

~M.

So tonight, I went to see the movie Something Borrowed. A chick flick such as this mixed with my recent purchase of Adele’s new album, 21, Makes for a very emotional teenage girl. When I get emotional, there is only one thing on my mind: my previous love life.

I should probably state before beginning that I am one of those sad and sorry girls who is 14 (almost 15) years old, and has never before had a boyfriend. Well, a boyfriend that wasn’t one of those playground romances in 3rd grade. Because I actually had like, nine of those or something. But I guess my desirability left my being when I hit fourth grade, because since then, I have just crushed on guys who never looked my way, and then spent a lot of my time wondering what in the world could be wrong with me, when all of my friends seemed to have no trouble getting boys to like them.

But this isn’t a pity party for Megan. When I reflect on my love life, I do it like a writer. That is, I don’t look back on just what happened, but what I thought and did to make those things happen. Tonight has actually been one of my biggest revelations in a long time. I have come across lots of things lately, all of them leading me a little closer to figuring out why I suffer such heartbreak over the smallest incidences with love. I feel like I fall too fast every time… and I may have finally figured out why.

I’ve always been a romantic. Most writers (at least the female ones) are. It just goes along with that desperate need for there to be a “happy ending” in a story. You just want that for real life, too… especially in your own. I think another consequence of being a writer is that I create situations in my head with real people, and I guess how they would act. If I’m crushing on that person, most of the time I’ll make him do what I think would be most heroic, or most chivalrous. Or maybe just the most adorable, even if it is wrong. The point is, after doing this so many times with the same person, I begin to add traits to the person that aren’t really there… I just wish they were. It’s almost like I’m not crushing on the actual person anymore, but just who I think they should be. This could also be a reason why most of my friendships have never lasted- I expect different things from there, because they begin to become less and less of a person in my mind, and more of a character in the story that I constantly pretend is my life in all actuality. So, maybe that’s part of it. Maybe I expect things from people that they will never give me, because that’s just not who they are. I’m not saying I expect perfection. In fact, flaws are, more often than not, my favorite thing about people. But when you draw a picture of someone in your mind, and they’re not who you make them out to be in your head, you enter a state of disbelief, and for a while, nothing is real.

For instance, my most recent encounter with a crush was on this guy that I guess I was fairly close to. I mean, we’d talk a lot, but it was always about light subjects- friends, school, jokes, music, books, television, the whatnot. We never talked about things like religion or family or love, because we didn’t need to. We were friends, and that was it. And I don’t say that with the least bit of resentment. But this is where my “creative” side begins to interfere. Perhaps there was a time when I did have a tiny crush on him. But by that point, he had become one of my mental “characters,” so when I thought of him, it wasn’t really him that I thought of. It was who I thought he should be. So, because that character could be whoever I wanted him to be, I began to fall in love. And there would be nights that I would cry over my situation with who I thought this boy was. I know it sounds a little crazy, but it’s honestly true. And the thing is, I’m all over that now. I can say completely honestly that there isn’t a bone in my body that feels more than friendship for this kid. And like I said, for him as an actual person, it hadn’t gone much further than that. Maybe a little bit, but my memory of him in actuality is a whole lot smaller than the boy I created in my mind. Now that I’ve actually been able to let go, I can see that the images of who he really was and who he was in my mind are completely different. As a friend, I guess this guy is pretty cool. But I’d never feel that way about him again, knowing who he really is. There’s nothing wrong with who he is, but he’s just not the kind of guy that I’d be looking for. (I probably stuck my foot in my mouth about a billion times there… it was probably not the way it sounded at all, but whatever. My head’s a mess, so this is what you got.)

…But I’m not completely crazy. I see reality in people, too, I just like to overwrite it sometimes. And this doesn’t happen all the time, but when it does happen, I know now that I can consider myself screwed. Another thing I did in that relationship (and have done numerous times in the past) is force myself to believe that there was something more between us when there wasn’t. Like I said before, I’m a hopeless romantic. But I’m a hopeless romantic who’s never really felt love. I mean, between my friends and family, sure. They love me, and I know that. I love them too. But no guy has ever looked me deep in the eyes and told me how he felt about me. No guy has ever taken my hand and danced with me into the night. No guy has ever laid down next to me in a field with me to watch the clouds go by. Nothing like that in the slightest has ever happened. (See? Total romantic…. ugh!) But I’ve always wanted that. I’m pretty sure most teenage girls have. And those of us who have never even gotten close are probably the ones who want it most. So when you want something like that so badly… you force it into your life. I think I may have forced myself to feel this way about many a boy. And now I can see that all of that is pure insanity, and I need to learn to take things as they come, instead of rushing into what I think they should be.

And I think I know that now. When girls say that boys are evil… well, that’s always gotten on my nerves. And now it’s probably going to bug me even more, because the truth is that we’re all fairly difficult when it comes to romance. None of us really know what we want, and because we can’t convey that to another person, feelings of confusion are mutual, and each side begins to despise the other. (Or, at least that’s what I think happens…) I’m not saying that romance is going to be easier for me from now on, but now at least I’ve figured out why I fall into these moods of hopeless devotion. Maybe eventually I’ll be able to do something about it… but for now I’ll just have to live in this insanity.

As for the movie, well, that was screwed up in general. I felt like I could relate to the main character, Rachel, because she was always afraid of doing things to get somewhere for love. But that’s another blog. All in all, it was a good movie, but I would have preferred a different ending. (Maybe one where John Krasinski was shirtless… ^.^) I would recommend it to any girl and her best friends who love to laugh and feel a little sorry for their single selves. So, anyone who enjoys well-written chick flicks with attractive actors. Best Wishes,

~M.

All she ever wanted was love. 

But that was impossible.

She was trapped.

Trapped behind lies and walls.

Walls she built around herself.

To keep others out... or herself in?

Never matter. 

All she ever wanted was love.

So she changed.

Her clothes, her hair, who she was at every aspect.

And they came to appreciate it.

All of them, every color, shape, and size.

But none of it was what she had hoped for.

Never matter.

All she ever wanted was love.

Love. Not this trashy, dead-end game.

Not these endless lies.

Not these meaningless words, hidden behind the facade of a computer screen.

That screen that told her everything she wanted to hear.

But everything she heard was empty.

Never matter.

All she ever wanted was love.

So she ran.

Ran past anything she'd ever known. 

There was nothing left for her here.

The lies came to surface, and everyone's backs had been turned.

Loneliness was her only friend now.

Never matter.

All she ever wanted was love.

The walls started to close in.

When no one cares what happens,

When every direction you turn just tells you to fuck off.

She finally knew what it felt like to be completely alone.

So she took her own life.

Never matter.

All she ever wanted was love.

Where is she now?

Look to the sky, find the biggest cloud.

Take a walk in the woods and listen to the trees.

She's there, you just have to look.

She's still there, waiting for the one who will care, just a little.

Never matter.

All she ever wanted was love.

Your tears seek comfort

I can see it in your eyes

But you’re rejecting me

Between your constant cries

I don’t understand

You won’t tell me why

But you don’t want me around

Seems you’d rather die

I thought at one point

There was a chance- just maybe

But I can see I was a fool

It was actually quite silly

I wonder who she is

The girl who did this to you

And why you still love her

Though she has painted you blue

We hold our breath

Pretend everything’s okay

But we know it’s all wrong

And that’ll show one day

The things we do right now

The thoughts, the actions, the words

Will be written in the skies

One day, a companion of the birds.

So, mock mock mock. It’s been a while since I’ve blogged, and the last time I did post something was when I was strutting around saying I was going to post every day of lent. Well, I gave up on that (happy Easter, by the way!), and you’re going to have to deal. I did, however, restrain from eating meat all 40 days. That action may have caused me to become anemic, but you know, Jesus loves you and all that.

I’m only joking, it was definitely worth it to go through with a real sacrifice during lent, when I normally just say something like, “I’m gonna eat less junk food” and then never actually do anything. On the other hand, my mother is seriously convinced that giving up all meats for such an extended period of time could have given my blood a serious lack of iron, possibly causing anemia. But it’s not really serious or anything, I just need to start taking vitamins with iron in them to make sure my blood goes back to normal. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. So let’s stop getting sidetracked. Okay? Okay.

Basically, I’ve made the executive decision that lent shouldn’t be the only time to work on self-improvement, and that you can start goals whenever you want to. I mean, not that it was ever really up to me, but now in my mind, I have no excuse not to better myself. Which means I’m going to give myself another chance with this whole “blogging every day in [insert season/month/time period here]” thing. This time, though, I’ll have a prompt for every blog. I feel like the reason I sucked so bad at lent blogging is because despite my best efforts, I’m not creative enough to come up with a post idea every day for 40 days. I’m surprised I even came close with BEDA, and I had help from other people then. ANYWHOOZLE, I found this website  that has a bunch of different writing prompts, so I’ll always have something to write about. There’s 80 of them, so it should be a while before I find myself with nothing to post. I don’t think I’m going to promise a blog every day, but I’m going to make it a goal that I don’t go more than 3 days without posting some sort of blurb about one of those prompts. I think this should help improve my writing and my sense of responsibility, and it also might help to distract me from schoolwork a bit (because I don’t procrastinate enough already, right?).

This is just an introduction post. I was going to start the first prompt here, but then I looked at the amount of wordage that I’ve already managed to shove into this post, and I’ve decided that if I had this and a blurb in one single post, not a sane soul on this planet is going to sit here and read that whole thing. So, the next thing I post should be about “something you lost or gave away that can never be replaced.”  I’ll see you all then, I suppose. Until then, best wishes,

~M.