Why is it when you're back home, things that looked so good from a distance seem like a really shitty idea?

I picked up an old habit in London that I'm regretting, but for some reason I can't stop and I really need to.

This makes no sense to anyone but me, but I'm the only one who reads this so who gives a shit.

You're just another big let down.

Sad Girls and the Boys that Love Them

The most memorable and probably note worthy moment in my mom’s thirteen (and continuous) relationship with her boyfriend was when I was eight and he punched her in the face and threw her down a flight of stairs. I watched this all happen on the safety of the couch in the living room while crying, screaming, and him throwing a glass beer bottle at the wall directly behind me. I remembered the shattered glass hitting my skin and cutting the side of my face, the beer soaking my clothes. I’ve hated beer and the smell of it since that day. 

But, I didn’t let this define me. 

He locked her in the basement and taunted her through the door while I called the cops and he was escorted out of the house. Mom told me he would never be in our lives again. She was so sorry. He was back in our lives a week later.

Still, I refused to let this define me.

It wasn’t until high school that I had this advice given to me by one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. I was good at hiding my feelings. It’s something that I’ve always been good at and not letting things in my life get to me too much. I usually took things at face value and never reflected on it too heavily. However, for one whole week, I wasn’t someone who looked at the negative thinking of a way to make it positive and getting over it. There was a week when my mom was in the hospital and I couldn’t be there because she didn’t want me there. There was a whole week where if someone even looked at me for too long, I was crying. I would skip class and just stay in the back of Hornbuckle’s class and read all the J.D. Salinger books he handed me. He knew not too push me, but one day at lunch just looked at me and said the words that I still heed the advice of:

  “Mack, you can either learn from this moment, take it for what it is, a really shitty moment in time, or you can let this moment define you and let it eat at you until you can’t recognize yourself. Don’t become one of those sad girls. You’re so much more than that.”

So, I didn’t become a sad girl. I didn’t become someone who feeds off the attention of others and just wants sympathy in the form of ears that listen and hands that hold. I never wanted anyone to feel sorry for me or give me that look that all people give to sad girls. As if they are fragile. As if they can’t handle situations because of shitty situations. 

  It was during this time that I learned that there is girls out there that feed off this attention. Where they take advantage of certain periods of their life that they label as “the hardest ever” and make a new persona based off that moment. They suck the life out of that moment. Drain it of all it’s emotional depth and a sad girl is formed. 

Types of Sad Girls

The sad girl’s parents got divorced at a young age, so she’s holding onto all the anger of that moment even though it really didn’t effect her in a negative fashion because she is loved by each parent in equal fashion. 

The sad girl’s boyfriend cheated on her with someone that is close to her, so she feels that all relationships with anyone (boy or girl) is doomed and will forever feed off that moment. 

The sad girl was bullied when she was in middle school for being fat or having acne. This experience has made her the self conscious sad girl, who will never get over those three years of middle school ever. 

There are many more I could add to the list, but they all add up to the fact that these are experiences, although tough in their own way, that one can learn from and grow as a person. As cliche as that sounds. Why would you let something dumb that happened in your life morph you into someone who can’t get over things?

Unfortunately, I was friends with two sad girls in high school who wanted attention by others so badly, that they clung to the other so much that they both drowned in their bullshit. They were the girls who went through the “emo” phase in middle school and high school or listened to “scene” music while painting their nails black and trying to look as mysterious as possible.

  I didn’t know it at the time, but being around them made me feel worse about myself. Being friends with these girls made me feel like the things that I was facing or the things that I was going through couldn’t have been nearly as bad as theirs because they cried all the time and they cut their wrists. They made it known to me that they didn’t care about my problems because theirs were much more important. 

   
  Sad girls.

I soon learned that these girls were delusional and just did most of these things because it was a fad and, for some god awful reason, boys were interested in those girls. They were more interested in the girls who seemed to have some dark past. A girl who was sad all the time. Mostly because they wanted to fix them and be their knight in shining armor. Mostly because the sad girls were more likely to give them a blowjob in the back of their car. 

Most of the boys didn’t realize the work they had to put in to be with these girls. These boys thought that being involved with the girls was going to be easy. The girls just wanted attention. They wanted to feel loved. But, once the sad girls got their way, the boys realized that the girls needed more than attention, they needed the guy. Everything about the guy. They needed more guys. They needed something the guys couldn’t give them.

Sad girls and the Boys that Love Them. A fairy tale that will never work. Because the girls don’t know what they want. No girl does. We wallow back and forth and think we want a nice guy. Then, we get a nice guy and that’s not what we want. 

Sad girls use this logic and it escalates. They hurt and morph the boys that love them. They do it on purpose. They make sure the boy is ruined before disposing of him and then moving on to the next boy who will love her.

I’ve seen this manipulation happen to a number of boys by one friend. One friend who I fear won’t ever learn her lesson and just continue feeding off the attention of boys because she is a sad girl. A sad girl with a mom and dad that loves her. Great friends. A good family, but for some reason, that was never enough. 

They think she is interesting with this dark past. What could be the harm in her? She’s beautiful with her blonde hair and dimples. Her easy laugh and witty comebacks. And then she’ll pull the sleeves of her long shirt up and they’ll see the small scars. 

      Sad girl. Boom.

      She’s outgoing and nothing can go wrong between the two of them, until she starts thinking that he isn’t giving her the attention she deserves. Or she morphs this manifestation of the boy being with someone else and this fantasy slowly becomes her reality, when in fact, she’s just bored with him. She’s bored of this boy who cannot handle her roller coaster of emotions until he morphs into a sad boy. 

 
      I love my friend. I think she’s brilliant and beautiful. I think she’s funny and insanely smart and far more interesting than me, but I also hate her and her sad girl routine. I hate that I fell for the routine as well and let her drag me into her shithole for years. I hate that she wasn’t a good friend, still isn’t a good friend. That when I told her of people that I was interested in, she went after them because she could. And I’d let her. Let her win because no one would be interested in me over her. That was a fact. 

 
     Sad girls always win.

The worst one and most interesting boy she picked was someone who I was intrigued by first. Someone who probably doesn’t even realize that he falls for sad girls. Someone who doesn’t know that because I never bothered to tell him of her sad girl routine. How I was interested first, which instantly made her interested. That she would tell me all the stories between the two of them, some things that I believed and others that I knew weren’t true. She did this to hurt me and I wouldn’t talk to him because she was with him, and that wasn’t allowed. 

There are rules when you’re friends with sad girls and that is one. Don’t dare talk to the guy they are currently involved with or she’ll make your life hell. Manipulation and guilt are the sad girls specialities. 

But then a surprising thing happened, he switched the roles on the sad girl. He wasn’t available all the time and I had to hear about that. He was sleeping with someone else, and I had to listen to her cry for a whole day before she met another boy. When she left for college and knew that I became friends with the guy, she made sure to tell me that he contacted her everyday. Called her to tell her that he missed her and that he loved her. She did this to make sure I stayed away. Putting me in my place, which she did.

But, the thing about sad girls and the boys that love them is that the love isn’t real. It’s a fantasy. Both parties are putting on this facade and dancing around the real issues. No one is expressing how they really feel and doing everything in their power to fuck the other one up. Sad girls are built on attention and control while boys who are in love with sad girls just want someone who relies solely on them. It’s a mind game that they are both going to lose.

So, fuck you sad girls and fuck you boys that love them. Grow up and stop feeding on the hate of the past. Grow up and learn from your mistakes and your parents mistakes and your friends mistakes. Learn that you’re in charge of your own future and your own mind. You don’t need to rely on others and their attention to survive in this world, that’s codependency and sadness wrapped in a person. 

Fuck you, sad girls who broke the hearts of the boys who loved you and just wanted to help you. Fuck you for making them not believe in love any longer. 

Reflections on the past four months

I'll be returning home in about three weeks and it was time for some reflection on things I have learned.

You start to learn how much it is important to keep in contact with people and how you need to make an effort to stay in touch as much as the other person. I've always been told that I'm very difficult to text or communicate with because I am very bad at texting back, but traveling to another country for an extended amount of time, means staying in touch. It means making sure you stay in constant communication with the people back home or you might simply grow too far apart. This has happened to me in the past, when friends have moved away to go to college and most of the people that I was really good friends with, I'm not anymore because of that line of communicating being taken away. I was never the one to reach out and the other person forgot as well. Which means, goodbye friendship.

The people that I know will always be there have contacted me as much as I have contacted them. Which is nice, it's nice to know that people out there care about you and miss you when you're off doing your own thing trying to find "who you are," as I have been trying to figure out for years.

Another thing I have learned is about cultures and adapting to them when you live somewhere for long enough. London has a lot of similarities to America, but it is very different to where I come from. Yes, people speak English here, but London is also one of the most diverse cities in the world where there is always people speaking in a number of different languages when you walk down the street.

Things I'll definitely miss is the accessibility of shops. At home, I have to drive everywhere which can be quite annoying, while other times (especially when it's cold) it's nice to drive. I'll miss the way that taxes are already included in the price of items, so you already know exactly how much you have to pay when you go to the till. I'll miss the way the light turns from red to yellow to green instead of automatically turning green from red. I'll miss that tips are already included and you can drink at 10am and no one will judge you. I'll miss the tube and the transport as much as I complain about it now. I'll miss the museums and the fashion taste and crazy hairdos. I'll miss the trilby hats and Nandos. I'll miss the architecture and the music and the buskers. It's been nice.

But, it also has made me miss little things about home. How there are 24 hour grocery stores and things usually don't close until about 9 or 10. I miss PF Changs and Oreos. I miss the bad foods that I like to munch on regularly. I miss my friends that already understand my insane personality and my string of words that make no sense. Stream of consciousness. I miss my mom and my cats and my own bed. I miss being able to wash my clothes properly and for free. I miss my clothes smelling like Tide and things being a hell of a lot cheaper. I miss working and making money. My friends at work that I left behind. Most of the people I left behind.

I'm excited to come home, but I also wish I could stay here. If only I could have both.

Growing up

Is everyone growing up but me? I keep getting emails and text messages from friends who are applying to grad schools or getting professional jobs or getting engaged. And for some reason, even after all the shit I have done, I still feel like I missed the memo. When did people start growing up faster than me?

They always say cherish your youth. But I never wanted that. I wanted to be an adult from the start, but it's all about jumping through the hoops of life and playing by the rules to even achieve any type of "growing up" plate.

London has given me opportunities I would have never had if I stayed home. It's exactly like that saying goes, the world/London is most definitely my oyster. Oyster card, more like.

I've had dinners with editors of publishing houses and made contacts with a number of publishers for the future. I've had incredible professors who also have a professional job outside of Regents. But, I still feel stuck tonight. Maybe it's just a phase. Maybe because I'm always fucking comparing myself to others. Here it is, though. Creeping.

Why is everyone growing up but me?

Nice and Bordeaux Notes

*Disclaimer: these are notes I wrote to myself on my iPhone while I was in Nice and Bordeaux for the week. They’re un-edited, so I apologize for the complete randomness that will ensue. 

Saturday- So many uncircumcised penises on the beach today. Cool, Nice.

I forgot to buy a postcard from Nice. It was great though. Antoine was a great host and I was feeling very lonely on my first day there. I walked around when I arrived, extremely tired, lugging my large bag with me since he couldn’t meet me until later. Nice looks fake. Everything about it looks like it has come straight from a movie set. It can’t possibly be real.

I walked up to the panorama: completely exhausting! But the view is spectacular and everything you could dream of. I had ice cream two separate times and each time was fabulous. I forgot how great the ice cream is in France. I met Antoine in front of the church Rossetti and he took me to his place where he had the most comfortable couch! He left after introductions to go to a friends party that I declined to go to since I was so tired.

The next day we slept in a bit and went to the Matisse museum. It was a bit disappointing, but the building is incredibly beautiful and the grounds are ancient. There were the old baths that Nice is trying to restore next to the house which was incredible to see. We went back into town where Antoine went to take a nap and I visited the beach once again, walked along the pier, and took the lifts to the chateau. The views from the chateau were unreal. Everything about Nice was unreal.

That night Antoine and I met his friends at their apartment and had a Syrian dinner. It was fantastic. There were three French men, two Germans, and one Syrian and me. They had so many interesting stories to tell and one of the Germans, Patrick, has family from where I am from. Such a small world. After dinner and lots of wine, we went to a directors party in the city where one of the French boys had directed a film. The party was held in a place called La Station which was originally a slaughterhouse for animals. It was an interesting space and quite a lame party at first. Until we started to drink more wine and beer, and didn’t care that no one was dancing and started dancing ourselves which caused others to join us on the floor. The French take drunk white girl dancing to the extreme. There’s no stopping their movements. It’s hilarious and makes me seem like a halfway decent dancer, which I am not.

We decided to leave around 2 and had to take the city bikes back to town. I haven’t ridden a bike in years and it was so amazing and fun to ride in the streets at night with these boys who I hardly knew, but felt like I knew for a long time. Today I woke up late and showered. I was hungover and didn’t want to move. Antoine woke up around 1 and made us lunch while we watched Psycho by Hitchcock. He then left while I stayed indoors watching TV and generally being lazy on my last day in Nice.

I then rushed to the train station to catch my train to Bordeaux and got on the wrong train, and then had to rush to my correct train with only five minutes to spare. The overnight train was awful. Cold, loud. However, a nice man gave me a pillow to rest my head upon until his stop. And then at 8 in the morning, I arrived in Bordeaux. I was supposed to couchsurf here as well, but there was a lot of miscommunication with my host, so I ended up paying for a hotel which meant I spent a lot more money than I intended to.

Monday: I’m sitting in a movie theater in Bordeaux about to watch Insidious 2. As if the first one wasn’t bad enough, I’m going to watch the second one in French. I don’t like Bordeaux only because there is so much construction and I’m struggling with my French and don’t feel confident in myself to speak. I feel terribly lonely here and out of sorts a bit. I wish I could understand myself but right now I feel trapped in a bubble of longing for London. I can’t wait to leave Wednesday. I know I’m only making this trip worse by staying in my hotel room and moping, but it’s also nice to just have peace and quiet and no one around. Travel makes you realize things about yourself, well, traveling alone. And I realized that I’m scared a lot of the time and I need to work on that. I also like sharing experiences with people because reiterating what you’ve done with people who haven’t experienced it is difficult. It’s been nice getting away from London for a week, but I’m ready to be back in my city.

Things I noticed while in Bordeaux: there is dog shit everywhere. You always have to watch your feet and where you place them when you’re stepping because it might land in a big pile. The buildings and architecture remind me of Paris a lot and being here made me miss Paris because Paris is better. Obviously. I love Paris and the haughty tourists and workers at the restaurants because they didn’t ask questions that you didn’t know how to answer. I spent the majority of my time inside my hotel room watching shitty YouTube videos to pass the time and sleeping in the heat.

I met four nice boys from Texas on a mission trip here. They wore nice suits and had a bible in their hands when they were trying to help me find the correct bus to take back to the airport. I miss people. The thing I’ve learned the most while traveling by myself is that I’m more conscious of where I place myself and my belongings. I’m more aware and more cautious. I’ve learned that I need to be more in control and take charge because I skipped eating since I feared embarrassing myself with my broken French. I can speak it and I can understand it, but I get so uncomfortable when I don’t know how to say something. I hate that, so I chose the vending machine in my hotel room over getting a nice sandwich from the place across the street.

I did buy some great face washes and other cleansers from the pharmacy that I’m really excited to try out. The beauty bloggers rave about it, and now it’s my turn to have nice skin. Hopefully. It’s been bad since I landed in Nice on Friday. Bordeaux was full on construction and I couldn’t go into places because of it which was aggravating and defeated the purpose of my trip. Paris made me fall in love with France, so did Nice. Bordeaux took that away from me. If only for a moment. But, now I’m seeing it from a bus. All the little parts that I missed because my feet were too tired to walk. I’m seeing the people rush around and friends kissing each other on the cheeks (so much kissing!) and I realized its beautiful in a way, because let’s all admit France is a beaut, but it’s beautiful in a way that I couldn’t see because I was blinded by the construction and fatigue. I’m sorry I judged you too quickly, Bordeaux.

I missed London desperately. I missed being able to communicate freely and walk quickly and generally be around the one place that felt like home in a long time. I speak French but not well. I can understand it a lot more than I can speak it, so whenever someone who speak with me, I would stand there aloofly trying to figure out the correct way to say something and end up sprouting out English words at them much to their and my dismay. And now I’m back in London, in the tube where everyone avoids eye contact and people talk in hushed whispers and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. How much I’ve missed this place.

I called it home.

Last night I referred to London as my home. This is the first time that this has happened since I’ve been here, and to you, it may not seem like a big deal, but to me this is monumental. I went to Brighton with a friend yesterday, which is close to two hours outside of London. 

Brighton and Hove is a gorgeous town with a nice beach front and wonderful wonderful hot chocolate. It was a cool day, close to 60’s but not quite reaching. We got off our coach and walked straight to the pier to watch the waves crash on the pebbled beach. It’s been so long since I’ve seen “never ending” water. The English Channel is freezing and I wouldn’t dare step my feet into his depths. 

We watched as people went for a run and dive into the icy water and stared dumbfounded as they actually seemed to enjoy their swim. Here we were, wrapped up in jackets and scarves while these humans are in swimming trunks and bikinis jumping into the Channel. Crazy!

Cat and I left the pier and the beach to walk along other areas of Brighton. We walked to the Royal Pavilion, but instead of being welcomed inside for free, we had to pay 8 pounds, which unfortunately, we weren’t prepared for, and instead walked around the estate. Across the stretch of grass, stood the Art museum of Brighton. In the cute little space was ancient Egyptian artifacts, kitchenware from the royal families, and art projects from local residents that were absolutely stunning. 

Brighton had a lot to offer on a Sunday. They had farmer’s markets, a Japanese festival, vintage festival, and lots of little bookshops for us to venture to. I stumbled across an old book that I had been meaning to read and bought for only 2 pounds. 

Being outside of the city was refreshing. It was not as overpriced and touristy as London is. There were moments where we could walk the street and not see a soul which was strange but relaxing.

As we walked along Trafalgar Street, we turned the corner and saw a stretch of wall with lots of graffiti covering the wall. At the edge of the wall though, there was a Banksy piece. I was actually seeing a real Banksy with my own eyes. It was beautiful and covered so no one else could spray paint over it.  

By the end of the night, Cat and I were ready to go. We went back to the beach and bought another hot chocolate to warm us up and waited for our bus to come back. Brighton is a beautiful city, probably for a whole weekend I would love it, but I was ready to go back to London.

I turned and looked at her when the bus pulled up and said, “let’s go home”. Not “let’s go back to the school,” but home. As we weaved in and out of the city on our journey back, I felt a pull because I honestly feel like I belong here and I don’t ever want to leave.

Does This Mean I've Made It?

Right after class today, Caitlin and I rushed to the tube station amongst the hot, sweaty crowd of Londoners and headed to Liberty London on Oxford Street to have our IT book signed by the author herself, Alexa Chung. I’ve been a massive fan of Chung for the past five years. She’s been a huge influence in my style and her music taste is inspiring. She always appears to have such an orderly life and seems always put together, even after hardships, drunk nights, and mean comments on instagram and twitter.

I’ve been looking forward to this book, not only for the photos, but for the insight into her character. Waiting in line was fine, going up the stairs to meet her was fine, being physically in her presence was nerve wracking. She’s breathtaking in person. Smaller in stature than I imagined, but isn’t that how most people on television look in real life? Smaller than you think?

Before my turn, she stood up to stretch and pose for more pictures with her book. Everyone was loving it. She’s graceful and light on her feet, knowing exactly how to position her body into a camera ready photo. I couldn’t help but think that it must get tiring. All these cameras flashing in your direction. All these people shouting and shouting, getting nervous in your presence because at the end of the day, you’re only a person. 

As she was about to sit back down, a dark, long haired beauty, with a pale blue dress came rushing forward to hug her and my nerves sky rocketed. Meeting Alexa was one thing that my mind was FINALLY wrapping around, but seeing Daisy Lowe walk in made me nervous once more. About a year ago, I noticed the stunning model in a magazine I had been flipping through and tried to find everything I could about her. She had great style, was a natural leader in making women more comfortable with the bodies they have, and just poetically graceful. I was officially nervous about both encounters.

When it was my turn to have IT signed, Alexa shook my hand and asked me how I was doing. She was incredibly, incredibly nice. Sweet and making jokes. Complimented my eyes. Just one of those people that can naturally make anyone feel at ease. She posed for a picture with me and then said goodbye.

As I was walking towards the door, one of the girls noticed that I may want to get a photo with Daisy. She approached Daisy and asked if it would be okay if I got one, and she agreed politely, saying it was no problem at all. She exclaimed that she was so happy for Alexa and so excited to get to read IT. 

And I agree, I think we all are. We’re ready to delve into a mind of creativity and heartbreak, and mate, and nights out in both London and New York. DJing and going to karaoke. We’re ready to see the fashion and the cameras and the lights flashing and not being able to have a peaceful moment because everyone’s eyes are being trained on you.

It seems like hardwork, but one thing is for sure, Alexa does it with class and style. 

London Town

I'm officially settling down in London. I don't think that it has officially hit me yet that I am here and will continue being here for the next several months.

I live off Baker Street and have to weave in and out of tourists who are standing in line for the Sherlock Holmes museum. I'll go to the Starbucks on the corner and sit outside watching the people walk to and fro from the shops and sidewalks. Sorry, I mean pavement.

It's warm here and sitting in my room with the window slightly open isn't doing anything for me. I should probably change into shorts or a short skirt, but at the moment my jeans are currently covering my legs and I keep thinking how annoying it would be to change.

London is full of life and excitement. There is so much to do and see, and I feel silly for staying inside on such a gorgeous summer day, but my feet are swollen and I'm still jet lagged and I want to shower to feel the grime come off my body.

Last night was an adventure with someone I didn't know. We had a treasure hunt during the day and went to an Australian bar that night with the rest of the groups from Uni. After, a girl named Caitlin and I went to Covet Gardens, bought some sandwiches and drinks, and ate in Trafalgar Square. The city still doesn't seem real. Big Ben looks fake standing back there in the distance. It's not real just yet.

As we sat on the steps, a man sat next to us and talked to us for over an hour about London and the different things about life. He even showed us around London and the various parts that we should see both at night and during the day.

Maybe in a few weeks time I'll be over the time difference and the drowsiness, but until then, I don't believe it's real.

The Start of Something New

I leave for London tomorrow. Me. Gone.

London has always been this dream for me. One of those things that you think will never happen to someone like you because it's too good. It's too special. But, here the time has come for me to catch a flight to the dream.

I remember when I was about seven telling my mom that was where I was going to end up. I told everyone. People would laugh or roll their eyes because it's something a child says. Something a child does: dreams big.

Now, here we are. I'm making my dream a reality and as much as I am excited about it, I'm also terribly nervous. My heart is in my throat. There will be things that I miss desperately about home. My mom. My cats. My friends. The boy I kissed goodbye to a few nights ago. My ice cream friends. My job. Little, tiny things.

I need this though. It's the next step in my life and as much as I can be scared and terrified, I'm also clinging onto the possibility of a new future.

One where I make my own choices and do things selfishly.

At least for a little while.

Notes

When you lose your virginity when you’re seventeen because that boy who you thought you liked, who you thought you wanted to be with, at least for now, kept saying “stop being a bitch" and pushed your legs apart, remember that this is just a moment. It doesn’t define who you are. It’s a glitch in the system. A time that made you understand that people who push you into things aren’t the people that you need in your life.

Because you’ll meet other people. You’ll find someone who thinks you’re beautiful and will tell you what he thinks. He’ll want to actually hang out with you and have you meet his friends and not hide you away. He’ll want to be with you, but you won’t understand and push him away. Try not to do this. Accept his kisses. His hand. His demeanor and smile. Accept all these things with a hesitance, but remember that it’s okay to do so.

48 more days

I leave for London in 48 days and as the date approaches, I'm scrambling to gather all the things I'll need before I leave. It's crazy to try and pack things you'll need for four months. My heart is racing because I'm nervous and excited. I'm nervous about money because I won't be working for awhile and what if I don't have enough money for the whole time? How scary would that be?

As a last plee before I leave, a really sad plee, I'm raising money for my trip. If you'd like to donate or at least share the link to someone who might be interested, that would be greatly appreciated!

https://www.goennounce.com/missions/view/id/768#.Ud10WeAaAb4

Thank you!

Remember

Remember that these things happen for a reason.
You're you. You're you.
Take a chance and a deep breath. People love you as soon as you show them.
As soon as you take off that facade and that exterior you keep the real you hidden behind.
Don't be afraid to fall.
Don't be afraid to take a chance and seek out adventure every day.
Keep that smile on your face until it becomes real.
Because one day it will become real.
Turn on the radio so loud you can't hear yourself think.
Sit in the dark with all the blinds closed and hum that song you're embarrassed to like.
Then open the blinds and let everyone hear you sing it at the top of your lungs.
Don't be afraid to be yourself.
There are too many people being fake in the world, don't become one of them.
Change yourself for no one because no one is worth that.
Wear your favorite shoes.
Tell yourself you're beautiful and start to mean it.
Because you are.
You have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and two ears.
Hands.
Fingers.
You're healthy.
You're timeless.
You're beautiful.
Fall down and break your arm when you're riding a skateboard for the first time.
Get back on the skateboard.
Buy a one way ticket to anywhere in the world.
Meet new people.
Drink new beer.
Go to a cricket match and learn the game for yourself.
Scream with the fans.
Be you in a world that is less than themselves.
Never be afraid.

Me. Me. Me.

I think everyone has those days where you feel absolutely disgusting to the point where you don't even want to look into the mirror. I'm currently having one of those days today. I'm sitting in my room with some old ratty shorts and a t-shirt because it's 98 degrees outside and the humidity is at 85%. I'll basically melt if I step out of my house.

But, I woke up and looked in the mirror this morning and wanted to cry because I hated everything I saw. My arms are too fat. My face is too round. My legs touch. My nose is too wide. Everything was wrong with me. How could I not have seen these things before? Why didn't I notice the redness that flooded my cheeks in an awkward way? Why didn't I see how noticeable my crooked tooth is on the bottom row of my mouth? How could I not have realized these things yesterday?

I came to realize it was just because I was in a bad mood. I wasn't feeling up to being awake for the day. I didn't feel this way yesterday because I was confident yesterday. I had a good night sleep. I ate properly.

I guess what I'm trying to explain for myself is that looks are based off confidence. I look the same today as I did yesterday, but I was happy, cheerful, and well rested yesterday. I still had the same face and body, but with a slightly different attitude.

We all have those bad days and sometimes we need to roll with the punches and notice the good things about ourselves before we deny them.

This is me. One of my favorite "selfies" that I have taken. I need to remember on days like today that I can be pretty, I just need to have confidence. 

So, this is me.

I think I should start off by saying that I’m of average height. I’m not too tall, I’m not too short, I’m just somewhere in between. That explains a lot about me, to be honest. Explains most of the things in my life.

I’m afraid of many things, like falling asleep on buses and slipping in the bath tub. I fear the brittle cold of my fingertips when the heater shuts off for the night and letting go of secrets late at night. I slip in this comfortable sadness too easily and that scares me the most.

I don’t like the sound of a car horn or of dogs barking too loudly. I hate the incessant heat of the summer where your clothes are sticking to your body and you can smell your own sweat. I hate how you get sleep in your eyes, such a silly term, but love it when a young child rubs at it early in the morning. 

I hate the irregular pauses of my breathing when I’m about to have a panic attack. The fast breaths and pains in the bottom half of my chest.

 
I think I should tell you that, although I’m not religious, I love Christmas time. I love the songs and the snow and the excitement in the faces of strangers. I like the happy glow of lights on passing couples faces as they cross the street with their gloved hands interlocked. 

You should know that I laugh too loudly at sitcoms when I’m by myself and cringe afterwards. I drink to forget things and fear that fact that something bad could happen if I continue living that way. I wear red lipstick too much and love when it’s smudged across my face.

I like being disheveled. Clothes falling off my shoulders and my hair in every direction. I smile too often and kiss people, who don’t mean anything to me, too passionately. I stumble over my words and fumble around in the dark for a light switch in case of monsters. 

I wish that I was much more interesting, so people would be drawn to me. I collect quotes and hide them in the nightstand of my bed. I write often about people that don’t think often about me. People I wish I could kiss passionately, but let slip away by kissing them tentatively. 

I grow out my hair and get bored in the middle of the night and cut it off. When I’m lonely, I let the cool breeze from the window tickle my skin and hug my pillow to my chest.

I am often lonely.

I bite my lips so much they become bruised and I often point my toes towards each other when I walk and I don’t like to look at people in the eye because I fear they’ll know all my secrets and upon reading this I feel you’ll pierce my soul with your eyes and never want to speak to me again.

Mentally Preparing

I have about two months left before I leave for London. I haven't started mentally preparing myself at all. Right now I'm mainly focused on working as much as possible, saving money, and not going out. Mostly because I don't want to spend money, also because most of my friends don't live in the same area as I do anymore.

It's strange growing up. That fact has hit me more than ever. I was at work and noticed someone I hadn't seen since high school going up and down some aisles. As he approached the cashier, I came out of my office and quickly said hi. It was someone that I was good friends with three years ago, but time and space has come between us. We were awkward standing there, trying to catch up on moments in the past years that we had missed out on. But, sometimes it becomes too challenging to try and reiterate points of your life that has deemed importance to you, but maybe not as much to others.

Everyday I look at my phone and notice the countdown. 83 more days until I leave. I keep looking into travel books, scrolling through ads online, trying to uncover the most information I can before I eventually pack up my life and go.

Is that scary? Not yet..

I know it will be once it becomes closer and closer to the date. I'll cry when I have to say goodbye to my mom. I'll cry when I have to say goodbye to my cats, especially Miss. Luxor, who is the ultimate sassy ass cat. But most especially, when I finally have to say goodbye to the one home that I have had my whole life. Never once have I moved out of my childhood home.

Yes, shut up, I am 21.

(But, my mom is alone and willing to help and I love her more than anything and being home is nice so shut your mouth.)

So, for the first time in my life, I will be completely on my own. No holding back. No coming home to the comfortable. To the familiar. New country. New things. New me? Maybe.

Hopefully.

Until 83 days from now, I am trying to mentally prepare myself for everything. Prepare my mind for the culture shock. For the new friends. For the new moments I know will be coming my way.

And I can't fucking wait.

Good Bye

I told you that I didn’t want you anymore.

That I was over everything.

I put on my best smile for you.

Touched your forearm one last time.

And laughed.

I captured the dead look in your eye

As you watched me

Pick at my sweater

And run my fingers through my hair.

You said okay.

You said good-bye.

I tripped over my feet

And walked outside.

Study Abroad

Mackenzie Taylor | GoEnnounce

Hey everyone! I'm planning on finishing my degree abroad in London, but I need some help. If you can donate, that would be awesome! If not, please spread the love.

Thank you! :)

List of Things

It's been awhile since I've blogged, officially. I've been doing the Tumblr thing and kind of fell off the whole blogging for myself.

I'm trying to start accomplishing things more. Delve into the idea of making lists and ticking the things off of them. Like a blog, for instance. I've had many in the past: xanga, bebo, etc. All those blog sites that it seemed everyone had. We all made them our personal diaries and basically confessed our souls to them, and that's not what I am hoping to do on this. I'm just hoping to get my lists out there. The accomplishments that I achieve, that way when I get down in one of my "everyone seems to be doing great things in their life and I am still stuck" type moods, I'll have a place to see all the things that I have achieved in life. (Phew! That was a run on sentence!)

This idea came fresh in my mind yesterday when I saw someone from high school that I haven't seen in awhile. Someone that I used to be really good friends with and we both went our separate ways, like you do. He seemed to have his life together, figured out in a way. He had just come back from abroad for studying there for a year. He had an internship lined up over the summer. He had a girlfriend. He was almost done with school and ready to graduate.

As he is telling me these things, I'm slowly processing the things I have done and can't seem to come up with any. Yes, we all compare ourselves to the others around us, and it's an automatic type of thing. It happens. It's not as if we think we are better than the other person, but we want to seem as accomplished as them. Because I was getting down on myself, I compiled a list of things that I have done so far in life that I am proud of:

1. I have a job that overpays me and most college students would kill to have.
2. I have been to Europe twice and paid for both trips by myself.
3. I paid the first two years of my college in full.
4. I paid off my car by the time I was 18.
5. I go to a private university that is extremely hard to get into.
6. One of my short stories has been read by one of my favorite writers, and she told me she loved it.
7. I'm moving to London at the end of August.


That's my list thus far. What's yours? I will be adding more as the year goes off, and will definitely be ticking more things off my list as I go abroad.

Until next time.