The Reality of It

oct 13 2015 4:31

So today in my theatre class there were 2 others sitting by me. One was wearing a Whitmer shirt and the other had said he went to Central Catholic. Before the lecture started, we were sitting and talking. I was wearing a black ottawa hills soccer jacket but my hair was covering the logo. As I moved my hair off it, there was a shift in the air and the Central kid says, “oh Ottawa Hills?” and the boy with the Whitmer shirt slips the words, “rich girl” out while the Central kid lets out a quiet laugh. I sat there dumbfounded by what he said for a moment. Then realizing the situation I sat down and said nothing. As class progressed, I thought about it more and more. For those of you who know the reality of the situation, you know where I’m heading. I could have responded by saying, “Oh, Whitmer. “poor boy.” but thats not the reality of it. The reality of it is that while my parents pay a property tax that includes my education, the Central boys parents pay 10k per year for him to go there on top of a property tax. That is more than my college tuition. The reality of it is that the Whitmer boys parents pay a property tax that includes his education as well. The reality of it is that our parents pay for it. Which then means the reality of it is that I am no more a “rich girl” than he is a “poor boy.” I pay for everything I want with my job except my phone and my education falls into that. No, my parents didn’t pay tuition and no, my parents did not pay for my text books. Yes, my parents have supported me and continue to. But no, not that its any of your business, I am not a rich girl. You are not a poor boy. The playing surface is equal.

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What Scares Me

sept 21 2015  2:18am

what scares me is time. I’ve said it before. another quality of time though. with time, i grow apart from the people i was once close with. so my siblings and i all start our own lives separate from each other. people start dying. people i never said goodbye to. my closest friends, chosen family, we all separate until we dont talk more than once a week, then month, then hardly ever. katherine terminated our friendship during the year, so losing her isn’t hard. but megan and gracey. thats a blow i can’t withstand. megan is at wooster. megan is who makes me feel alive. she’s my philosophy side of my life. she helps me answer the big things. and grace. she is my rock and my glue. without gracey, i very well may not be alive. megan never was into texting, so her not responding isn’t weird. but gracey doesn’t communicate with me anymore. she was my one that i didn’t have to worry about leaving me ever. compassionate and accepting. she understood a lot of what i feel. and she doesn’t text me anymore. I’m so depressed all the time. i can’t keep growing close to friends and then losing them. i haven’t had a solid friend anymore. it started with becca geisler. then we move to foster. then jessie. then madeline. then ofek. then erik and michelle. then katherine. now megan and gracey. all of those people were important people in my life. i know it sounds weird, but each of those friends meant different things and losing them is hard. mich and erik weren’t super important, but they mattered so much. with time, I’m losing more people. i just want to cry about everything all the time. its pathetic. i am calling the doctor tomorrow. i need to get help. these thoughts. i dont know. i just dont.

i looked in the mirror

aug 14 2015 19:55

never look into the mirror. it shows you things you don’t want to see. i can say this beaus i just did. i looked into the mirror to realize, I’m 18 years old. going on the rest of my life right now. in my head i can think I’m still 7, but I’m not. i looked in the mirror today to find a woman of 18 who was wearing a pretty dark blue dress. its not long, not tight but its pretty. its the kind of dress that makes a girl turn into a whimsical witch or a fairy. i started crying. i looked in the mirror and wondered what happened to the reflection of the little girl i used to see. she had blonde pigtails and a sea of deep blue eyes and a smile that could warm anyone. at least, thats what i see when i look at the pictures. now i look in the mirror and i see a woman. her hair long and down and wavy. her eyes with a hint of mascara. she’s beautiful. she really is. today she is. it dawned on me as i walked away from the mirror. I’m no longer making parades of beanie babies with my brothers through the house. I’m not longer investing every birthday wish in becoming a mermaid. I’m not getting excited for halloween hoping that i will see a real witch. now i am driving 30 minutes down the road to see the sunset over the country. and I’m staying up till 3 am to see a meteor shower because thats the only magic in my life. my soft hands and feet that were once smooth and unweathered now are unfamiliar to me. i see wrinkles in my forehead and my hands are aging. it sounds rediculous but every line on my hand is another moment in my life come and gone. this all just depresses me. i am not depressed over anything but time now. i want to stay 17 forever. i don’t want to have to date guys and break up with them. i don’t want sex stories. i want stories of sneaking out at night and stories of that one time i did the cinamon challenge. its just hard getting older. my parents are 51. they’re going to be dead soon. 51 isn’t old. but in 9 years they will be 60. i remember them when they were 39. they were still young. this sort of stuff just really gets to me. but you knew that. i have a lot to tell you. i will in a bit when i get over time. ill be posting a lot more i believe.peace

Independence

It’s hard to work at a high school. It’s hard to be around kids and know they’re going through shitty things. I see this one kid, Nolan. He’s so much like me. He smiles and is a goof who makes people laugh. He’s so intelligent in his humor as I am. And while watching him, all I can think is about how bad I feel for him because I can see his sorrow masked by his smile. His eyes are calling for help. Every time he makes someone laugh and every time he laughs, I can see a cry for help in his eyes. It reminded me of me. He’s dissatisfied. Verbal abuse from his mother. Never feeling good enough. He has older siblings who did well. There’s another girl, Sarah. Her mother is a lot like Nolan’s. She’s pushy and shallow. She smiles and laughs things off, but I can see in her eyes. We’re all the same. So when I see them struggling with who they are and being accepted it breaks my heart. I just want to pull them aside and tell them not to worry, give them a joint and tell them to wait it out. It took me so long to get to where I am. Once I gained mental independence from my parents, I began to move forward. I no longer worried whether or not they’d accept what I chose to do. I no longer worried about their opinions or the opinions of others. I made choices for myself. It’s hard to explain and this thought is incomplete, but damn.

Vitality: years like tokens

Youth

Vitality. It’s the coldest word in my dictionary. Time gets to me as it does everyone, but in ways they haven’t considered. I always think about how I have X amount of years to be young. We go through different phases as we age. High school, college years, life. I watch movies about people in high school and realize that this part of my life is over. Silly things dawn on me. I no longer have the chance to marry a high school sweetheart because I never had one I could see myself marry. I no longer can justify spending $50 to Tee-Pee someone.

I’m in my college years by title. Socially I’m in the years where important people are starting to die, friends are having children and getting engaged, and I have a clue about what is going on in the world.  I’m 19 years old. I’m 1/4 through my life. Halfway through my expected life and I’ve had a good time. It’s been said time and again. That youth is wasted on the young. I’m starting to think Benjamin Button had it all figured out– aging backwards, that is. I have a bucket list full of different dreams. Many rely on me being able bodied and having few responsibilities other than caring for my cat.

So I consider my options and realize, as a woman, my biological clock will start winding down soon. So do I choose my youth or my old age? Do I settle down and get married before I’m 30 or do I keep going on every adventure and figure things out as I go? I can have both, but it’s my life. Why half ass it? I also have to consider how much my body slows down as I age. Do I really want to throw a pregnancy in there? Then I weigh in on the other side. Do I want to be alone when I’m old, or surrounded my loved ones? I can adopt. Or maybe I just go out and do life as much as I can and die young. My youth is preserved in pictures and I’m missing out on the slower half of life. But then I’m also denying myself the experience. The chance to be an old woman who is a local on an island. My health problems will be bad, so that has to be taken into consideration.

Then I consider my family. I’m the youngest with my twin of 6 kids. My parents dying will be hard enough, but I can’t die before them. That’s not fair to them. So do I want to stick around and watch them kick the bucket before me? Or do I want to peace out early and get a good spot next to mom and dad. And don’t even get my started on after-life.

Maybe I go all Billy Joel on the family and go to hell. “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun. Only the good die young.”

There are so many lyrics about time. Sand through my fingers and a star for each moment. I’m 19 and my childhood being over doesn’t trouble me as it once did. Now I worry about how I’m going to go about spending my years.

That’s what royally fucks me up. In the words of the great, Neil Young, “My my, hey hey. It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”