2k13: Love, Stress, And Confidence

Well, well, well. Here we are homies.

For starters, I want to try to put a major event from every month down. Here we go:

  • JANUARY: Wow I can’t even remember much. High school and whatnot. It all seems like a distant dream.
  • FEBRUARY: My best friend committed suicide. The worst month of my life followed after that.
  • MARCH: My 2 year anniversary with my boyfriend.
  • APRIL: Found out I got into Virginia Tech!
  • MAY: Honestly there was a lot of hanging out with friends, goofing off and whatnot. MAJOR senioritis kicked in. Celebrating an end and anticipating a beginning and whatnot.
  • JUNE: A LOT HAPPENED IN JUNE WOW. Fucking prom. I graduated from high school. I lost my virginity. I had a swaggy grad party. I was out with my friends pretty much every day.
  • JULY: This was all my birthday. Like birthday planning, birthday rehearsals, etc etc. My 18th birthday party was a monster ball damn it was a mix of tradition and clubbing I don’t even know.
  • AUGUST: August was sad as fuck. Packing, so many goodbyes, headed off for college. I bought a dildo at some point, that was exciting I suppose.
  • SEPTEMBER: September was horrible tbh. I was homesick and depressed every day. September holds the birthday of my friend that passed away. I cried a lot. I made a lot of new friends, but it just didn’t feel right.
  • OCTOBER: I went to my first college party and it was intense and I did not like it I found out I’m not an alcohol person. I was way more adjusted in October, but still not quite there.
  • NOVEMBER: Midterms gross. It took 3 months but by November I was pretty well adjusted in college. Friends, classes, all that jazz.
  • DECEMBER: Started from the bottom now we here. The holidays are always full of mixed emotions for me, maybe I’ll write about it in another post. Ugh don’t even talk to me about finals I don’t wanna. BUT my final grades for first semester were A, A, C-, A, D, B and I’m cool with that like I can live with those grades damn college is hard.

Now here we are! Happy second day of Kwanza!

I want to say that last year, for the first time, I didn’t make a New Year’s resolution. My entire life, I have never failed to make one. My entire life, I have never failed to not complete a single thing on the list. But this year was different. This year was great.

Though I’m far from them, I’ve never felt closer to my friends from high school, and making so many new friends in college has given me greater self-confidence. Though my boyfriend and I are in a long-distance relationship, we’re still happy and more in love than ever. Since my parents know they don’t see me often, they stopped being so irritable when I’m home. My grades aren’t horrible

What I’m trying to say, is that I’m happy. All things considered, this year was good. I’m lucky in friendship, in health, in love, in family.

The only thing that could have made my year better is if B was still with me. No matter how optimistic I can try to be, I’ll always feel sad celebrating a new year when I know he has none left.

But I digress…

For some reason that I cannot explain, I’ve gained an INCREDIBLE amount of self-confidence this year. Like all those times I wish I could’ve stood up for myself, all those years I’ve wished I could talk to people and be more sociable, all those days I wanted to be someone better. It’s like all those times just started. I feel like a lot of it had to do with having a grand 18th birthday and going to college. My birthday party was extremely gorgeous and exciting. I was the princess for a day, and the whole day it felt like I was walking on air. I felt tall and pretty and high. Then there was going to college. When I left, I was all by myself. Completely alone with no friends to lean on. It made me bold. It made me break out of my shell, little by little. And it worked.

Every year for my birthday or for Christmas I ask the heavens to grant me one wish: Make me beautiful.

I have eczema. All my life I’ve wanted to be pretty. I figured that if I was beautiful, I’d have the confidence to do anything I set my heart on. And this year, I feel like all that hoping and all that wishing was granted, but not in the way I expected.

I did not become beautiful, but rather I was granted the gift to see myself the way I truly am. My entire life I saw myself as ugly, but the tables have been turned and my vision has brightened and for the first time I can see myself for the beautiful and dazzling individual that I am. And that is the greatest gift I could have ever asked for.

Well that was my year. I hope you all had a happy holiday season and a happy New Year!


Getting Older Growing Colder

Winter certainly greeted me with a bang this morning.

I was getting ready to go to the grocery store. I looked out the window and saw patches of snow on the grass, but nothing more. I was pretty upset ’cause I was expecting a blizzard and a little more winter action but you know, you take what you can get.

I took one step outside and then WHOOPS, I slipped and fell on my bum. It scared the shit out of me, it was so unexpected. I looked around and saw there was ice everywhere and I was like, well, here’s the winter action I was looking for. It was a terrifying 10 minute march to the busstop as I obsessively watched my every step.

Winter. My favorite season. Also the literary symbol of death, or an end.

To be more exact, the end of my first semester in college.

It feels so strange! It seems like just yesterday I was filling out college apps hoping University-sempai would notice me.

It seems like yesterday I was a 5 year old letting go of my mom’s hand and walking onto the school bus for the very first time. It was raining hard that day. I sat alone on the bus and started sobbing because I was scared. I remember walking into the school and thinking it was a palace. It was gigantic to my small 5 year old self.

I remember growing older. I remember being an 8th grader, out of elementary for 2 years. I remember going back and thinking it was absolutely tiny, wondering how I could have ever thought it was a palace.

I remember growing older still. I remember just this past summer, in June near the end of the school year, going back to that elementary school again for the first time in another 4 years and thinking it had shrunk yet again.

But of course, it’s not shrinking. I’m getting taller. And older. Much, much older. On my last visit I found out that I have only one teacher left that taught me that is still there. My first grade teacher. That’s incredible. Of all my teachers, the one I had 12 years ago is the only one still there. Unfortunately she wasn’t there the day I visited, but I saw her picture in the year book and for some reason I was stunned.

She was tiny. She was a little old lady with a sunken face and a full head of white hair. I don’t know why, but I walked in expecting to see the same bright young (all things considered) brunette that taught me 12 years ago.

It was a shock. I’m getting old. I’m getting so, so old. I’m 18. There is no one holding my hand anymore.

Then I thought again.

Yes, there is someone holding my hand. My boyfriend. I am 18. For all I know, in 5 years I could be married with a child, and that is bone-chilling and frightening.

A few days ago, my best friend lost her virginity. A part of me was screaming “You’re just a child! You’re too young!” But then I remembered, no, she’s not. She’s 18. I was 17 when I lost my virginity.

We’re not babies anymore. We’re old.

This winter, I complete my first semester in college. It feels like the first day of school was just yesterday, I can’t even process that this season is through. Time is going by so quickly.

I’m going to say that this winter is death. The death of my childhood. Of course childhood is subjective and I’m only as old as I feel, and the truth of the matter is that I’m still an 18 year old at the very beginning of my life, but sitting here thinking about my younger days makes me feel like a wistful old woman.



Well maybe.

I don’t know.


So, I’m going to say that I get irritated easily. I’m very good at arguing, provided that I’m passionate about what I’m arguing about. Like if you’re anti-LGBT anti-abortion don’t even talk to me.

I used to think that those kinds of things — gay rights, feminist issues, anything along those lines — were the only topics that really heated me up. I thought I was a civil person for the most part but that I just get over-passionate about these things. But after today, I realized that I’m actually just a hot-head.

So in my biology lab class, we’ve had a project that we’ve been working on for 3 weeks. The project was to solve a supposed murder case. We either had to prove that someone did it, or prove that no one did it. My group concluded that no one did it.

We had to sit there and listen to everyone give their conclusion and evidence. And as I sat there for an hour and forty-five minutes, I realized that I get agitated very, very easily.

Out of 6 groups, only 2 of them (including mine) concluded that there was no murderer. But as I sat there listening to the rest of the groups argue their cases, I grew very irritated. Hearing them explain their (flawed) reasoning behind how these little things meant someone was a murderer, I was growing more and more angered at their irrationality.

“The death certificate claims that she died at 8AM, but the bug analysis says that she died at 10AM, so we decided that the mortician was lying and the entire death certificate can’t be used as viable evidence.”


And I was getting so steamed. Like, I was getting outraged.

And for literally nothing!

And now that I’ve had time to think about it, I guess I can kind of see why.

When I’m angry about an anti-LGBT or anti-abortion argument, it’s because I find their reasons ridiculous. God most likely doesn’t give a shit if homosexuals get married, and aborting a baby isn’t the same as killing a human being because them lil bitches up in that uterus ain’t got no EEG, which are brain signals that mark life.

When I was angry today, it was also because I thought these people’s conclusions were outrageous. You can’t take out a piece of evidence just like that dumbass. No, just because a piece of his hair was found on her clothing doesn’t make him the murderer. Sure there were tire tracks, but maybe he was just driving past the neighborhood? #jfc

I am a strongly opinionated person. I’m a fighter. I’ve been picked on my entire life, I fight, I think a part of me even likes fighting. I don’t know. All I know is that I seriously need to calm the fuck down sometimes.