That Terrifying Moment.

So I had this terrifying moment just now, where I kind of missed the 8th grade.

But the feeling went away quickly.

Phew.

That was scary.

I Wonder.

I wonder what would happen if we told people that they matter to us. What would happen if you actually told the people you care about that you care about them, instead of just assuming they know? What if we actually said what we felt and weren't scared of embarrassment? What if the word "love" actually meant something to us? What if we said, "I love you" to each other, and meant it? What if we followed through and stood up for each other and never backed down? Could that happen, I wonder, if people knew that they mattered?

I'm Begging You.

Today, I've been sick and just laying in bed listening to music. Contemplating life and all of it's problems...

You know, the usual.

I'm not sure how I got to thinking about this, but I started thinking about the kids at my school who get laughed at all the time. The girls in the back rows do a poor job of trying to stifle their laughter whenever these other kids happen answer too quickly, or act too quirky. The people I call my friends enjoy imitating their voices or jokes, just to get a few laughs from everyone else.

Two of their favorite targets happen to be kind of a couple, and one day a friend of mine walked past them and whispered to me, "Nerd flirting is so funny." The way she said it made it sound like she could have just as easily been talking about bird watching or describing her pet dog. They are human beings with feelings and emotions. Them liking each other is no different than any of other "cute" couples at my school.

I wonder if my friends can see me falling apart underneath. They say they love me, they think I'm awesome, and I'm so fantastic... but do they know that I was one of those people? That what they are doing to someone else, was done to me? Do they know how it breaks my heart to watch them laugh at other kids even when I've told them I was made fun of?

I feel guilty. I shouldn't be one of the girls sitting in the back row. I should be up front, suffering with the rest of those poor souls. Because that's who I was. I was that front row kid. I heard the chuckles, giggles, and I'm familiar with all the eye rolls and glares.

Sometimes I find myself getting caught up in the jokes, and I laugh along out of a desperate need to fit in. But then afterwards, when I realize what I've done, I wish I was dead. Those girls in the back rows drove me to actually thinking about suicide. And now I was one of them?

I only went through that for a semester, and it could have been so much worse. What about the kids who have no where to go? Who have felt the way I did for years, if not their entire lives... I wouldn't wish that pain on any human being.

I wonder if my friends know that them laughing at someone else for just being different, hurts me. I've told several of my friends more or less what I went through, and they still laugh at those other kids. Do they just not get it? Maybe they won't ever see that helpless, lonely girl sprawled out on her bedroom floor screaming for God to end it, but even if they did, would they care?

If you're reading this, I'm begging you, from the bottom of my heart, realize just what you're doing when you laugh from the back row at the misfits. Your little "jokes" travel so much farther than you will ever know. And they can destroy a person. I'm praying that I, myself, can stay strong and not fall into that. I'm begging you to try to be strong too.

Can't You Spell?

I have quite a few little pet peeves.

I can't stand spitting noises. Like someone smacking their food, or that nasty sucking sound when the dentist puts the thing in your mouth that keeps you from drooling.

It freaks me out when people crack their knuckles, or bend their fingers in unnatural ways. Toes, backs, necks, and arms are all fine. Just not their knuckles and fingers.

It bothers me when people randomly touch me. I love hugs, and I'm sure when I have a boyfriend I'll enjoy him kissing me or putting his arm around me. But anything else drives me crazy, like when a friend randomly pats my back or rubs my arm. It appears normal to everyone else, (even I will do this to my friends when they're sad because apparently that makes a lot of people feel better?), but it bothers me.

And I'm also annoyed by the fact that most people are incapable of spelling my name right. I have a last name that can be kind of difficult to spell, but lots of people do. My problem is that my first name is also difficult to spell, because my parent's spelled it differently than it's usually spelled. I love my name. But why is it that no one ever gets it right? I mean, it's not like I'm going to actually get mad at them. Just a pet peeve. A slight annoyance.

It works the other way too though, because when someone does spell my name right, it makes me very happy(;

Just Because I'm Me.

I was just realizing how many incredible people I have in my life. People who understand what I'm feeling and who love me and care for me even when I feel totally worthless. 

When I feel frustrated because I'm so shy, cautious, and scared... I realize that if I was a different person- with a different personality... I wouldn't know the amazing people that I do.

I got to spend my whole Friday evening with these awesome people. I went to a high school "battle of the bands" kind of competition and had a blast! Even though I couldn't hear for ten minutes afterwards...

I drove a good friend of mine there cause he didn't have a ride. He's pretty much the only guy I'm not scared to talk too so as much as he can drive me crazy sometimes, I still love him to death. Once I was there, I got to hang out with one of my best friends. She's amazing. Then afterwards I got to go to the Avengers movie with two of the coolest women ever. My English teachers. (; They're pretty fantastic.  

All of these people matter so much to me. I was thinking about them, and all of the other people I didn't even see that night. I love them all so much. And I really wish they knew that. I don't usually have the guts to tell people that they matter to me. In fact, I don't usually have the guts to say much of anything. 

Most of them will never read this, but if they do, I just want to say... 

You are incredible. I'm ridiculously thankful and blessed to have you in my life. I wish I wasn't so shy or terrified of what people think of me... and maybe someday I won't be, so I can come back and thank you in person. Maybe then I can tell you how much I love each one of you, and how much you've impacted my life. Thank you for being the few people, out of the billions of people in this world, that love me and care about me. Just because I'm me. 

Oh Right... Instagram.

I love how everyone is so obsessed with this "new, inventive, creative app." Yes, I know. It's life changing.

I hope you caught my sarcasm.

I think Instagram is not only a waste of time, but it's also kind of creepy...

Think about it! You're posting pictures of yourself, your friends, and just about everything you do and almost anyone can see it. There's probably tons of embarrassing photos of me on there and I wouldn't even know. I don't have an Instagram. No, not because I'm trying to stand up and go against the crowd, just because I don't have a fancy smart phone or an iPod that can take pictures. So I'm out of the loop. Not that I mind that much. I mean come on, it really is dumb.


"Oooo! I'm eating ice cream! INSTAGRAM IT."


"Hey! I'm gonna go shopping! INSTAGRAM IT."


"Don't I look sexy today? Let me take a picture of my face in the mirror and then... INSTAGRAM IT."

Spare us. -___-

Many Dances.

I was feeling really depressed over this weekend.  Feeling totally left out with prom, and debating what I was going to do this week. And to be honest, I wish it was Saturday. Then this week would just be over and done.

For some reason, I broke down in tears while talking to my mom. I couldn't believe I admitted it, but I told her about my conversation with God I had had the other day driving home from school. It basically consisted of me yelling at God and saying, "Why do I have to be me?" or "Why do I always look like the idiot friend who dared hope that a guy might like her? But instead they only pay attention to her because of her friend?"

I decided that I needed some time alone with God. So I took a journal my mom wrote for me when I was little, went to an apartment my family owns, locked myself in, and learned about me.

I literally had a little composition book that on the first page I wrote "Meet You." And God introduced me to me. The me before I was scared to be me. I learned that I'm a lover. I love people. I love being with people. I love making people laugh, and love showing people God's love.

I loved getting to meet me. But I felt discouraged too. Why can't that girl come out now? Why can't I be a loving, smiling, laughing, dancing, singing, free girl now? Because what I was learning was that's who I am. Deep down, from my very beginning, that's who I am. But it sure doesn't look like that now. At least, not to me.

Then a four year old girl told me something, and I know it's what is going to carry me through all the discouragement. There was a four year old girl, dancing with her daddy, listening and enjoying the music, being herself and being totally free. Suddenly she stopped... her big blue eyes looked up at me, and she smiled. Pointing to herself she said, "I have many dances here in my heart."

I was that four year old girl.

My heart almost burst. I said out loud, "You have many great things to do, and many people to love. A few disappointments will never change that. Sweet girl, you do have many dances in your heart." How could I, at only four years old, have ever known that one day that statement would get me through big disappointments? I couldn't have had any idea. I was just stating what was true.

And I can't believe, that maybe, that's still true.

I have many dances here in my heart. <3