Seven Years

Here's a news article. 
I've known about it for years but I wanted to post it here:
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSL1071991520070511


And here's a song that was written about it. 
It's beautiful.
I've also known about it for years, but I want to share it with you: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2w4kRHwv6FY


I'll also share that I think about both this story and this song every day.
Because I wonder the same thing.


-Liz

Learn

(I've had "Let's Get Fucked Up and Die" by Motion City Soundtrack on repeat.)

Has there been a time when being hopeful hasn’t screwed someone over in the end? Ever?

I’ve learned not to get hopeful or be optimistic. All it does is make you look ignorant. It opens doors so that people, and yourself, can look in and scream in your face the numerous reasons why you’re pathetic. We should all just know now that in the end, whatever happens, happens. And most of the time it’s not what you want. But it’s not like you can change it. Don’t make up scenarios in your head. Life never works out that way. We should just face the facts and tell ourselves, “that’s that”. Settle. You aren’t going to be accepted. You’re not going to be included. You’re not going to mean anything to anyone. In the end, they all just care about themselves. You’ll be forgotten, tossed aside, if that’s what the situation calls for. We’re all alone in the world. Everyone’s in it for themselves. You are in charge of saving yourself.

This is actually part of the reason why I don’t believe in God or any higher power. Nothing’s out there to help you. You’re on your own. 

And when something doesn’t work out, there’s no one to blame but yourself for thinking it would. 

So think about what you want. Now think about how it would feel to have to watch someone else taking it.

Hold on to that feeling.

The raw hurt and burn. The audible crashing of what you’ve built in your mind and the piercing ringing that numbs your body and brain.

And that's why you don't get hopeful. 

I apologize for being so severe. I'm angry. I need to go home. I need a break.

Pathetic

(I’m just going to stop apologizing for not having lyrics or quotes or anything here. I’ll put them here when I find some that are relevant. If I don’t, whatever.)

I feel pathetic. 

I’m being pathetic, I’m thinking pathetically, I’m just pathetic.

I’ll be short and sweet about everything. The pathetic-ness is overwhelming.

And because I’m supposed to be writing a paper.

I texted the frat kid, C, today. He never texted back. I really shouldn’t be surprised. I was just so hopeful that some part of this situation would work out. So I’m probably never going to talk to him ever again. Or at least for a long time. It makes me uncomfortable. I’m extremely bummed. I just want to talk to him so badly. And I keep thinking about him and it’s lame because really, it’s been a few weeks, I should let it go. But I can’t shake it. It’s so fucked up. I don’t know how people do it, how they can just brush it off. It just doesn’t work like that for me, but I wish it did.

I’m glad we have a break from school this weekend. I really need to be home. I need to talk to my family face to face. And I need to see my dog. I was looking at pictures of him the other day and I almost cried. And I need to be in my house. I need to go for a walk around the neighborhood by myself. I need to be in my room. I need to eat different food. I just need to be home. At least for a bit.

I keep getting in bad moods because I don’t take my medication. The pills balance out my moods, make the bad things seem less bad. I hate it though. I don’t want my happiness to hinder on a little white pill. I want to be able to be happy on my own, my brain just won’t let me. I feel powerless. But if I don't take them, I get sad/angry/anxious easily, and I get panic attacks. So I'm stuck with it.

-Liz

Golden

(I don’t have a quote or lyric, yet again, but I can tell you that I’m listening to The Scene Aesthetic music over and over and over tonight.)

I had so many things to write about today. 

But now I feel like I need to write for S.

Right now I want to cry for her. No joke. 

She recently found a guy (D) who seemed, for lack of a better word, legit. He came with baggage, which she was skeptical about, but she realized that there’s no point in trying to make things work with another person unless you’re in it a hundred percent.

And she was hopeful. S was filled with the glorious hope that lights you up and makes you optimistic about everything. And it’s rare to find such abandon in a person. It’s powerful and respectable; it's inspiring.

And tonight, he just fucked everything up. Parties, a few exchanged text messages, and S is feeling like she’s been burned by the little flame of hope that she was holding onto and kindling so well (her analogy, not mine).

And I want to cry for her because i know how she feels, the betrayal. I think everyone, girls and guys, know how she feels right now. There’s been that person in everyone’s life that seems so promising, and ends up only screwing everything up. 

Lost hope is probably one of the worst feelings. 

I wish I could help her, I really do. Alas, I’m terrible at giving advice. I used to be good at it, but then I turned cynical and what I call “realistic”. 

Sometimes, though, you need to let go of the realistic, and turn to the optimistic. You need to fully abandon everything you feel is “unachievable” or “could never happen” and just go for it. Feel the rush, feel the risk. Don’t think about what the consequences could be. 

So tonight, I revere S for doing just that; being optimistic. It’s refreshing and it’s contagious. She is legitimately one of, if not the, nicest person I’ve ever met. She commands so much respect and she keeps her conscience clean. She’s genuine, which is a difficult task to find in a person nowadays. S is just one of those people who is constantly happy and positive. Maybe not always on the inside, but on the outside she is. And she will listen to you rant about your day for as long as you need to. In a way, she’s like a mom. She’s not matronly or anything, but you know that you can trust her. She’s always willing to help you, hear you, and snuggle with you if you need the comfort. 

So S, keep your chin up. And as cliche as it sounds, you’re golden. Don’t forget that.  

-Liz 

Bad/Good

(I don’t have any lyrics to put here for this post, my bad.)

I’m actually in a decent mood right now. My head and my heart are finally calming down after a frustrating week full of negative emotions and stress dreams.

I have good and bad to tell. I guess I’ll start with the bad. That’s just what I do. 

This week I’ve been forced to see that everyone has their deeper and darker side (which sounds cliche as fuck, but it’s true). I always seem to forget that people have so many hidden troubles. It’s like that quote: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting their own battles” or something along those lines. 

This past weekend I went on a retreat with my sorority sisters. At first it was all fun and games, but then it got emotional. An activity that we did involved us sharing our past or present struggles (if we wanted to). We all sat in a circle for two hours, sharing our most personal stories with people that we had mostly met about 4 weeks ago. It was deeply intense and there were many boxes of Kleenex being passed around. 

Emotional things like that always make me recall memories that I try every day to keep buried in my mind. And once they’re out they drag me down for days. And right now I’m desperate to get them out of my head for a bit.

When I was lying in bed that night after the activity, I couldn’t sleep because of all of the memories that kept replaying in my head. They scare me, to be honest.  

I was thinking about when I was in 8th grade and I was legitimately scared to go to english class because every day I was verbally harassed by the kid next to me.  

I was thinking about when I told my sophomore year boyfriend, M, that I loved him when I really didn’t, and then when I eventually had to tell him the truth. How hurt he was. 

I was thinking about when I first turned to thumbtacks for relief from whatever had gone badly that day.

I was thinking about that picture that M sent me, showing me what my sadness had made him do to himself.

I was thinking about how we would both go to bed scared because of not knowing if the other would be alive the next morning.

I was thinking about all of the panic attacks I would have and how they would wipe me out for the rest of the day. They were always about stupid things, too: people talking loudly, someone’s muscle twitching, not being able to put my hamster’s cage together properly.  

I was thinking about how it felt when M and I broke up, and about how it felt when a week later he was some girl’s date to the next school dance. And how it felt weeks later when their relationship lasted longer than ours.

I was thinking about how I had to wear long sleeves for weeks at a time.

I was thinking about how out of hand everything had become.

I was thinking about the night I decided that I was done dealing with everything. 

I was thinking about everything I had written in that letter.

I was thinking about the way my mom would look at me for the next few weeks.

I was thinking about when they said I had to go to a hospital and stay there until I was better. And how I cried and screamed and promised them that I would get better, as long as I didn’t have to leave.

I’m fine now, though. I’ve gotten better help and I feel more in control. I’ve changed a lot since then. 

But it’s just hard when all of these emotions come up again because of hearing other people’s stories. 

And I feel better now. I feel better now that I put this down.

Yay blog.

Now for the good!

I was thinking today about being at school and being away from my family and everything.

And that’s when it hit me.

At home, I usually take time and shut myself in my room so that I can have some down time; time away from everyone. 

But today when I was sitting in the room alone, I was surprisingly lonely. I always appreciated the quiet time to myself, but at school it’s different. I actually feel calmer when someone else is in the room too. Just that constant company makes me feel better. Like right now, H is on the futon doing homework. I’d feel uneasy if it was just me in here.  

Today I saw A on the quad and couldn’t help but smile. When I saw K in the hall yesterday, I couldn’t help but smile. When S2 came back today, I couldn’t help but smile. And tonight when I came back from my class that I hate, I opened the door and saw H and S sitting on the futon, and I couldn’t help but smile. I was instantly happy when I saw all of them.

Because they’re like my new little family.

They’re the familiar faces I look for, they’re the ones who want to help, they’re the ones that are always there.

And I love that. It makes me smile.

-Liz

Out of Tune

“It’s like forgetting the words to your favorite song,

You can’t believe it, you were always singing along.”

(“Eet” - Regina Spektor)

I need to get into a better mood.

Lately I’ve just felt a little lost; a little numb. 

My mom says that the three week mark of college is when the freshmen start to get a little down on themselves. I’m not sure how much this has to do with my moods, but it’s something to keep in mind.

I started college thinking I knew myself extremely well. I’ve had help realizing things about myself for the past few years and I had a good grip on it all. But the new setting, the new people, the new experiences to be in, it’s all loosening my fingers from being clenched around what I knew was true. 

I was confident with myself, with how I am. I knew that I’m pretty awkward, extremely quiet and that it takes me a long time for me to fully trust people enough to let loose around them, but I accepted that information. Now that’s really all I think about, in negative ways. I’m constantly feeling nervous and unsure about who I am. I find myself uncomfortable around those who have seemingly become closer to each other faster than I have with them. I feel like I keep missing the boat, even though I'm setting my watch five minutes faster than normal and making sure I wear my comfortable walking shoes.

Everything’s happening so fast, I just wish I could keep up with it all. I wish I knew how to be more social and how to stay in tune with who I am and be comfortable with it. 

There should be a class or something for this kind of stuff.

“Social 101: For the Quiet Folk”


-Liz

Wanted

“Ring around the rosy game always ends the same way,

We all fall down”

(“Old Coyote” - The Weepies)

I’ve never written a blog before.

Actually, that’s a lie. We had to make one for our government class last year. But it was a blow off assignment and mine was 4 posts about saving marine life; I mentioned Oprah Winfrey and Disney. It wasn’t a big deal.

But I feel like this is going to be good for me. I’ve been keeping journals for years but they’ve never been seen by any eyes other than mine. I keep to myself a lot. Everything: thoughts, opinions, ideas, etc. I’m scared that if I speak what’s on my mind, then people aren’t going to accept me. And so if I play it neutral, then I’ll be all around in good standings with everyone. But is that any way to live? In the past few years, I’ve noticed that it definitely isn’t. I need to be (openly) opinionated, I need to speak my mind, I need to just at least talk in general. I need to let people in.

So here I am, letting my life spill out onto the keyboard and plaster itself on the internet. But I need to do this. 

Ready, set, go. 

It’s funny how a person that you’ve met once can make you feel completely worthless. Unimportant. Miniscule.

It’s funny how someone could lie with their entire body. You’d think at least their eyes would reveal the truth.

It’s funny how after all of the times I’ve been hurt because I’ve hoped too much about something working out, I still do it. Especially about something that is so blatantly unstable and rarely ends well.

We went to a frat party the other night. It was good times; dancing low, drinking mucho, music making your fucking eardrums explode, the works. And it was especially good because a guy was actually paying attention to me. I actually existed, imagine that. We quickly got very close (wink wink, nudge nudge) and everything was going well. And I was super psyched because as far as guy experience goes for me, I’ve got about little to none. A boyfriend for 3 months which consisted of 2 small kisses and holding hands once doesn’t really count for anything. 

Anyways, I gave him my number before I left. I personally plugged it into his phone for him since he was half asleep on my shoulder. I left and that was that. 

The next day I couldn’t have been happier. I was listening to happy Owl City music and I couldn’t stop smiling. And every time my phone got a text, my heart skipped a few beats because I was positive it was going to be him. 

He never texted me. I’ve never dealt with this kind of thing before, where it’s up to someone to contact you otherwise you just never talk again. So I wasn’t sure what to expect. I talked to my mom and she said to wait for three days. If there was still no word from him, then it’s a lost cause. And so I waited.

And here we are, the end of day three. Still no word. The only thing that’s changed is that I’m half dead on the inside. I was so fucking sure that things would work out; that he would text me sooner or later, that we would hang out, get a chance to talk, anything. But no. He just kind of disappeared. Seriously, I tried to find him on Facebook (not in a creepy way) and that was a bust. It’s like he never existed except for that one night. And it’s driving me insane. I keep trying to replay it all in my head and each time his face is just as fuzzy as the last. I don’t even know if I’d be able to recognize him if I walked right past him on the quad. 

And that kills me. 

And again, I thought things would work out. I know it’s always a long shot with these types of things, but silly fucked up me, I let myself get hopeful anyways. Part of me was so sure because of how he would look at me. They say eyes are the key into the soul or whatever, and he was looking at me like he really wanted to know who I was, like he was actually interested in something other than getting in my pants. I just can’t believe I fell for it. 

And now whenever I think about it, I feel sick. What if I was just the hook up for that night? I’m just “girl number whatever” on his list. I’ve been reduced to a number. Hey I’m  Liz, I don’t have feelings or anything, just use me to count. Jot me down on your list and  I’ll be happy as a fucking clam. Shit. And what if I see him again at a party and he’s wrapped around some other girl? Some other number?

I can’t believe I let myself get into this. I know how I am and I know that if I did something like this, I would get myself into trouble. And I was right. 

And then it gets worse. I’m still getting hopeful. I keep trying to justify everything. “What if I accidentally pressed a wrong number when I typed my number into his phone?” or “What if his frat brothers are douchebags and are telling him to just forget about me?” None of it’s true, he really just doesn’t want to talk to me, but these scenarios keep running their way through my head. Like it’s a goddamn marathon or something.


I know I should just forget about him like he forgot about me, but I can't. I'm one for closure, and being positive that something is over before I leave it. This is going to be a challenge.

So much for wanting to be wanted.

-Liz