Honesty Hour

I'm trying to get my head screwed on straight. It's that ungodly time of the morning where I'm really thinking to myself about who I am, and where I am, and if I'm truly happy. Six hours ago, I was driving home from theatre, still laughing about what Carl had said about my peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. "We'll just get there early tomorrow and eat them and then chew some gum. I don't think we'll be kissing any of the actors, but you can never be too sure." And then, when we were in practice, I kept looking at Jim and Carl, and at the actors going and coming off stage, and I thought to myself several times, "I'm so glad I'm here. These people are my friends, and we're enjoying this time together. We're all happy, and I love this. I don't want it to stop." But when it gets to be this time, and I'm sitting up by myself thinking about my life, it's hard to really feel that kind of happiness again.

I broke down again yesterday morning. I let myself hurt and feel the pain, and then I felt numb again. So I got up and walked around, and I looked at old pictures and laughed and smiled. Then I realized I'm here in the present, where everything seems so messy and complicated right now, and nothing really feels like it's going to be okay. But I know that it will. Change isn't supposed to be an easy thing to accept, especially when you're being forced to. I just have a few things bothering me right now. And I think that in order to feel better about them, I need to talk about them.

First, I don't think I'm ever going to be able to fall in love again. I know it sounds silly coming from someone who is nearing the early age of twenty, but it's something that I'm scared of. For a long time, I never understood why I was so scared to go out with guys. If any guy ever showed the slightest interest in me, I would go running in the other direction until I couldn't see them anymore. And the few guys who I have actually considered dating haven't worked out in my favor. I don't mean to say that they're bad people, because they aren't. But sometimes things just don't want to go the way you want them to. It's hard for me to accept, and I think that's one reason why I'm feeling lost right now. I get attached to the wrong people and at the worst times. And, after giving it a lot of thought, I finally am realizing why I can't ever bring myself to jump into a relationship and just give it a try. I'm so scared that I'm not going to be able to love that person as much as he loves me. I know what it's like to be in love, when you want to go to the ends of the earth for that person, jump through rings of fire, and stick your head inside of a lion's mouth if it means they're going to be safe for the rest of their lives. I know what it's like to want them to want you in the way that you want them, and for them to care for you the way you care about them. When you love someone so much that you know you would gladly volunteer death to keep them alive, it suddenly becomes scary to think about being with anyone else, because you might let them down, and hurt them like someone else has hurt you. And that's why I'm so convinced that I'm going to be alone, and it sucks. I don't like to think about it because I feel even more lonely than I normally do.

I'm also struggling with relationships in general. There are a lot of people who I never see anymore, and there are a lot of people who have used me and hurt me and knew that they were doing it. Because of that, I feel like I can't trust anyone anymore. People who I used to depend on and talk to aren't around to listen, and the only people I can talk to always want me to cheer up. Be positive. Don't be sad. Life is good. You'll be okay. But what can I do when the only thing that I'm not feeling is positive, or happy, or okay? What can I do when, internally, I'm falling to pieces, and can't tell anybody because I know they're just going to tell me happy things that I'd rather not hear? Where are my friends who would sit and listen to me and just let me cry and break down? The people who may not have had the best advice, but had the best shoulders to cry on? I used to have a best friend who I could tell anything and everything to in confidence, and who I could be weak around, and he would hold me together and just let me go through what I had to go through while offering comfort. But as of recent, I just can't depend on him anymore. He helped break me even more than he probably thinks he did, and now, all I can do is cry alone, and keep everything bottled up because there's no one to spill it to. People are ignoring me or pushing me off to the side, and it honestly hurts. It hurts to know that so many of my friends are hummingbirds that only come for the nectar and leave when they've had their fill. Sometimes, I just wish someone could hold me again. Hold me in their arms and pet my hair or dry my tears and tell me that it's okay to fall apart; that I don't always have to be strong. But sometimes, I feel like that's all I ever can be now. Weakness is taboo in our society. We're expected to do so much and be unaffected by things that are out of our control. If we can't control it, why be upset over it? But you know what? I can't control it, and that's what upsets me. I can't fix it, or change it, or make it come out in my favor. Things are as they are, and if people don't want you anymore, you can't do anything about it.

I keep wondering when things are going to get better. I don't want new people. I want old people and old times and memories. I want old feelings back. The security of having people to trust 100% about things that, at that point in time, seem so silly and unimportant. A new zit, or a pair of amazing shoes that won't fit, or a homework assignment you forgot to do that was worth only 1% of your grade. Where did those days go? And who in the hell replaced them with this spider web of a life? Who thought it would be fun to watch me crumble and fall into depression, and who decided that my love was something they could play with until it became so involved and twisted that there was no easy way of pulling away? I'm so tired of being toyed with, used, and recycled by so many people. I'm starting to build up walls that I've never had to build before, and it just really sucks, because I want people to be happy, and I just want the same in return. I want to be loved unconditionally and to be cherished. I want to be needed. But I also need people when I fall down and have trouble getting up. Where are my friends when I fall down?

I have a lot of trust issues going on right now, and I keep asking myself what's in this world for me. Sure, my purpose seems to be loving people and volunteering my time to keep them happy and to keep myself happy, but what happens when all those people disappear and I'm left here alone? What's in this world for me? Right now, I have no idea what to do, how to think or feel, and I'm starting to sink again.

The real friends that I have right now are few, and I know they have things on their minds too, just like me. But I wish for just one moment, one of them would take the time to sit down and say, "What's wrong? And don't say, 'nothing'."

To the three people who I've recently talked to about stuff on my mind, thank you for listening. And to the one who is going through a tough time just like me, thank you for taking the time to understand and connect with me on a level that no one else can seem to do right now.


As of now, I feel numb. It's nearing that time where I normally reach a breaking point, but I just don't want to cry anymore. It's silly to cry over things you can't control, but as taboo as this is in our forever rushing society right now, I want to slow down and acknowledge that it's okay to hurt over people and over feelings. Things are changing fast, and sometimes all that we can do when we fail to grasp it, is cry over it.


Is there anyone out there who understands?

Too Much to Handle

At this point in my life, it feels like there are a lot of changes going on that I can't really get a grip on. Relationships with my friends aren't the same. I'm finding it really hard to trust anyone anymore. And I feel like now, when I do happen to fall to pieces and break down, there is no one there to hold me together while I cry. The other night, I just let myself break down, and I let myself hurt because I think I needed to let it run its course. I'm so busy trying to be the strong one all the time and hold it all together, but whenever I do start to give way and crumble, I'm almost embarrassed for anyone to see me lose it. All day yesterday I felt like I was wearing a mask. My smile was difficult to hold, and there were times that made it hard for me to swallow, as though a lump was forming in my throat. Things, for me, are starting to shut down emotionally, and for awhile early yesterday morning, all I felt was numbness. I closed my eyes a few times and thought, I'm alive, but I'm sitting so still... so still, that in a way, I feel dead. The only thing that made me sure I was sitting there on the floor was the fact that I was breathing. And then I felt the tears coming. So many bottled up emotions that I have been shoving to the back of my head; things that I needed so desperately to accept. But accepting where I am now and how I'm feeling now is hurting me. And the worst part is that I can't do anything about it, because it's life. It's something out of my control, and there's really nothing to do but come to terms with it, shake hands with it, and keep moving forward. Being strong is the most difficult thing for me to do right now, and I feel like each smile and each laugh is a lie when there's so much lying under the surface.

It's ironic, to me, how I haven't really done anything wrong to myself or wrong to other people, and yet, I get wounded the most. People say I'm a good person and that I have a huge heart. They say I really do care and that I deserve the best. But in reality, the good don't really get rewarded because they see the pain and they feel the pain, and they force themselves to smile through it and believe that everything is going to be okay. But things just keep caving in on them. That's my life right now. I know that I've excelled in a lot and accomplished so much already. I know that right now, my body is physically in a good place. But spiritually, I'm falling apart, and there's nothing that can fix that. When you get hurt emotionally, you can't wrap it up or put a bandage on it so that it will heal. And so many people think that drugs and medicine can fix that, but the truth is, it only numbs it for a period of time. I'd rather feel than be numb because I have my mind with me. I think clearly. I feel more real.

I think that the best lie known to man is, "I'm fine." So often people have asked me, "Are you feeling okay?" and I would look up at them and say, "Yeah. I'm fine." But honestly, more than half the time I say that, I have something bothering me; something haunting me. And I hate to show that side of me to people because I feel like if I'm not okay, than neither are they. I hate being worried over, but there's so many layers of broken glass inside of me that sometimes I wish there was someone to worry. Yesterday morning, when I was sitting on the ground thinking about how I felt emotionally, I just wanted to scream at someone. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum and break something and blame the world for hating me. I just can't deal with change. I can't deal with where I am in my life and I feel like everything is slipping through my fingers too fast and all at once.

I know that things are going to get better and that this is just a phase that I need to go through. But I just wish it didn't feel like I was falling into a never ending pit. I used to never understand love songs and depression songs, and about things being "complicated" when all I could see in front of me was a bright sun and wild flowers, and someone who accepted me and wanted to spend their time with me. But now, I just feel like I'm looking for more, like there's some greater happiness waiting for me and I can't get to the point where I can reach it. I keep messing up and going down the wrong paths, and right now, it just feels like nothing is going to be okay. Sure, I can keep smiling and laughing and being positive and zany and fun, but when it comes down to it, sometimes I just feel so alone, like no one really understands. And it hurts.

I love my friends and my family so much. I cherish the memories I'm making with them, and I'm glad that there are things in my life that can make me smile and appreciate living. But there are also feelings that I can't control, and right now, I'm really suffering.

Someday I'll be in a good place again. But right now, things are looking down.

Cutting it close.

My teacher, Professor Norris, told my class one day that creativity always seems to strike in the wee hours of the morning. For me, it is one of those mornings. But I would not be writing this if I had not read a story from Chicken Soup for the Soul: Tough Times for Teens. It was about a girl who used to suffer from depression, and the only thing that ever made her feel like she was a good person was putting everyone else and their needs before herself. So she would cut herself to try to cut the frustration out of her life. Somewhere along the way, she began to write, which ultimately saved her. Another part of her recovery was meeting a boy who she started going out with, and who didn't judge her for her scars. Instead, he helped her see that her generosity was a good thing, but helped her practice saying "no" and to not feel bad when she couldn't help people through their problems. They ended up breaking it off, but she continued to write like crazy, and she never went back to cutting again. It really struck a chord with me, because had I not started writing my seventh grade year, I might have suffered the same fate.

It's hard for me to imagine cutting myself. I don't think I could bring harm to my body like that. But I have felt depressed enough to where I'd start warming up to the idea, imagining what it would be like... how the blade would feel against my skin. Relief. Those kinds of thoughts were scary to have when I'd snap out of it and realize what I was thinking about doing. I even thought a couple times, I have a blade I can use. But somehow, I'd be able to shy away from it; to tell myself no. I'd write instead. Writing was relief. It didn't always fix my problems, but it told people what I was going through and how I was feeling. I didn't feel as though I was crying out for help, but rather, that I was telling people my story.

I don't consider my life tragic enough to resort to smoking, drug use, or drinking. There are people out there who suffer far worse than I do. My life, when I think about it, is pretty sweet. I've had a poem published, dived into theatre with very little experience at all, received my license, and I've finally been recognized instead of being the invisible girl. This has happened over the course of an entire year, and I love how things are turning out for me. But there are conflicting thoughts and emotions that I shove to the back of my head. They aren't important enough to pay attention to when I have a million other things on my mind, but there are those rare times where I have nothing to do, so I start to think. Thinking always causes things to resurface, and a million voices talk at once, all wanting me to hear them. Those are the times  when I begin to sink. I can feel myself going down, down, and still further down, until depression cuddles up to me and starts whispering things in my ears. But I always fight it. I fight it hard, no matter how horrible I feel.

I've heard it said that writing is the best mind trip, and I consider that to be truer than truth can be. No matter how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking, or what I'm doing, I know that I can always write out what's bothering me. I write poems, the occasional short stories, and song lyrics every now and then just to clear my mind of its negativity. It's how I deal with people and with myself, and like I said, if I had not started writing in 7th grade, I might not be in a very good place right now. Who knows? I could be smoking, cutting, or starving myself. I could be invisible to everyone, sitting alone and letting vicious thoughts attack me. I could be in rehab or medicated. There's an endless amount of possibilities. But... God, to write... it's the most comforting thing. Letters. Words. Punctuation and grammar. Spelling. Imagination. Passion. Emotions running wild, just waiting to be felt. A voice waiting to be heard. A blank page just waiting to be written on. I love it so much.

I think the reason why I haven't minded being single my entire life, or why I haven't minded missing out on all the normal shit that teenagers do (such as partying, drinking, etc.), is because I know there's something that is better than that; something that is always going to aid me when I'm feeling down; something to break my fall. I don't think I ever hit rock bottom without words there to cushion me, and I'm thankful for that. Writing makes this life worth living. The people may come and go. The opportunities may pass by. The right moment may never come. But no matter what, I know that there will always be someone reading my story, and that is enough for this heart to continue beating.

As long as there's a good book to read, a plate of fresh cookies to eat on a bad day, a warm bed waiting to be slept on, a family to love you, and someone there to love, life isn't so bad.

Magazines listening to the members of society?

Tonight, while skimming through articles on Yahoo!, which I love to do when I get bored, I found an article that caught my eye. It was titled "Teenage Girl Wins Victory in Seventeen Photo Retouch Battle" <--Click! This particular article told the story of a fourteen year old girl who created a petition for Seventeen Magazine to feature one completely un-retouched photo spread a month, and it received 84,000 signatures, which is pretty spectacular! Seventeen Magazine then called the girl in to talk to her, and signed a Body Peace Treaty that pledged to "never change girls' body or face shapes" and use images of "real girls and models who are healthy." One of the comments under the article pointed out that although they signed this treaty, it did not say that they would stop using photoshop to fix blemishes, eye bags, skin tones, etc. This is true, but I think that it is definitely a step up. Altering appearance based on skin tone and hair color and retouches may change the image somewhat, but at least there's a better idea of what a person may really look like.

I was reading in another article at one point in time that photoshop used to be strictly for magazines and professional photos, and now anyone can get their hands on a photo application, even the free ones online, and change their appearances. Because of these applications, we never truly know what a person may look like online. I, for one, only use these photo editing tools when someone asks me to do a photography job for a special occasion, and sometimes I take pictures of myself and edit them when I get bored. But for the most part, I've shied away from fixing blemishes and marks and eye bags. I want people to see me for who I am. Of course, when I was younger, it was the exact opposite. Whenever I took a picture, I couldn't help but edit it. I had a very low self-esteem because I could never see myself as beautiful or gorgeous. I would consider myself an ugly duckling and leave it at that, and a lot of the time, I tried not to think about how I was appearing to people. I even wore makeup to fix my skin complexion because I was self-conscious. But then, one fine day on Formspring (chyeah, that question site that was really popular for about a year), I received an anonymous wake up call saying that I couldn't ever post a non-edited picture of myself. To fight back, I took my edited picture off and put the original up. It killed me, but I did it. Whoever left the message got pissed at me, which ended up being kind of funny, but at that point, I realized I could be real. I stopped going on Formspring because of the online bullying and stabs toward my appearance, and life got better. I got better.

Teenage years are very awkward. Trust me, we all go through it. I had three years of awkward going on before I started to balance out. Even the models in the magazines went through awkward stages, and magazines that display those beautiful, skinny, flawless girls are poison to take time to look through. I've finally reached the point of being okay with myself, and because of that, I finally feel beautiful. Sure, some days I look in the mirror and don't like what I see. I still struggle with my body image, skin flaws, and my crazy, poofy hair. But I refuse to wear anything that is not eye makeup, and I refuse to photoshop my pictures unless it is out of complete boredom and those pictures are clearly labeled "edited" or are in an "edited" album. I've definitely become more accepting of myself, and even though sometimes I wish I could lose weight, I know that being super skinny is not what defines beauty. It's the light in your eyes, the confidence to be yourself, and knowing that no matter what anyone thinks, there is at least one person out there who says different. I'm blessed to have friends that remind me I am a beautiful woman, even on the days where I think I am the ugliest person alive. I will always fight the edited, photoshopped beauty, because that beauty is not what defines a gorgeous woman. A gorgeous woman has a strong heart, sharp mind, and the ability to see past this world and all of its judgmental glory. There is beauty in everything and in everyone, and I guarantee you that as long as you take the time to get to know it and give it a chance, that beauty will shine through. So live your life and have fun, and don't let photoshopped magazines tell you otherwise.

Editing can be beautiful...

But so can being yourself.

And for all girls and guys out there who are struggling,

just remember...

 

A response to MidnightLove on suicide

Many of us don't like to talk about the ugly things in life. When we're down, or crying, or feelng as if we're losing our sanity, we have this sort of encoded idea that these things aren't to be talked about. No one is to know about our dangerous thoughts, or the tears that are streaming down our cheeks, or the pit of darkness that we're living in. We must suffer this alone, question our existence alone, and ask if it's worth it... alone. Charlotte's latest blog post is about her thoughts of suicide; how she relapsed after so many years of telling herself that she would not be another statistic. She questioned God about her life, and asked if it was okay if she ended it. Then, days later, the thoughts went away. She was in the car with her mom eating an ice cream cone and listening to music. She was happy.

Depression is something that many people suffer all around the world. I have concluded that I am one of the many, and although I can be extremely happy and thankful for this beautiful life that I'm living, I have my down days where all I want to do is cry and let the pain rip through my chest. My breathing is shallow, my tears sting my cheeks, and I feel hopelessly lost. I think of talking to someone, but the truth is, no matter what anyone is going to say to me, I'm not going to listen, and I'm not going to look at the upside. When I become a victim and relapse, no one can help me. Relapse. Relapse. It's a haunting word, isn't it? It makes me sick to my stomach because it is a word not associated with anything happy or cheery. At least, I've never heard it used in such a context. Relapse sounds as though you're falling backwards, backwards, and backwards still; as though you've just lost your grip again and can't help but fall victim to your thoughts and feelings of hopelessness. Eventually these feelings lead to horrible thoughts.

I, too, have thought of suicide. Shocking, right? But yes, it's true. I've gotten into that mindset where you think the world would be far better off without you, and that you don't really matter in the scheme of things. How could I be so important? I'm just one person. Surely people could live on without one person, right? And then I would try to think of people who mattered; people who needed me. But no matter how hard I tried, they just didn't seem to matter. They were distant strangers whom I didn't recognize, and it got to the point where I told myself, "If I don't wake up tomorrow, that's okay." It wasn't a "head to the kitchen and stab myself in the heart" kind of depression. It was just sort of like, death? I'm cool with that. The next morning, I was glad that I woke up, because those feelings were gone. Since then, I've had my occasional bouts of depression, and they've lasted anywhere from two weeks to two months. They're never enough to where I think, hey, I'm gonna go grab a gun and blow my brains out! I don't think I could ever bring myself to take my own life. But I have starved myself, and I have thought about what it would be like to cut. Those ideas are always something that are just there, ready to be nuzzled up to when I experience one of my little episodes. But I'm strong enough to resist the cutting and any kind of drugs/alcohol because harming my body is something that I just can't do. Yes, starving is harming, but I did it once and I never want to do it again. Don't ever try it. It's dangerous and it hurts.

I know I'm not the only "good girl" who has suffered through things like this by myself. I have a few friends who also suffer from it, and it's true that the people who smile the most are the most broken. We think the most hostile thoughts and might even consider doing harmful things just to make the pain go away. But somehow, we always rise above it. We can cut it pretty close, but we do rise. It's an every day battle, and all we can do is stay strong throughout the depression and fight it off. Medication? Some people need it. I, for one, do not want to take it because it can make the symptoms of depression worse. I figure that if I'm too scared to harm myself, what use is there taking something that may make me want to? The innocent aren't always as innocent as everyone thinks. I may not smoke, take drugs, drink, or sleep with guys, but I do have a brain that can think up some pretty messed up stuff, and that's enough for me to handle without all the other shit I could be doing. No one really understands the severity of our thoughts; how far our minds explore the dangers of self-abuse by imagining what it would be like. These thoughts are our friends. Why would they hurt us? I understand what people are going through when they talk about doing these things. Trust me, I may not do them, but I understand.

I do have depression, and I do fight it. I am not afraid to admit it, and I am not afraid to live with it. I will continue to challenge myself by overcoming my episodes of sadness and insanity, and although I may not show it, know that I go through tough stuff too, and that you're not alone. You're never alone. Keep looking up, even when you think there's no up for you. Charlotte wanted to kill herself. A few days later, she was enjoying an ice cream cone while listening to music and enjoying the company of her mom. Live for the simple joys in life: a treat, a melody, and someone who loves you. Life is sweet, and so is ice cream.

Click ---- >  Charlotte AKA: Midnight Love < 333333

Quick reactions and a license

Well, a lot has happened in the past couple days. But the most interesting portion of it is the day I took my driving test. I finally became a licensed driver on May 24th, 2012, which was a huge accomplishment for me considering how nervous I usually am taking these tests, and that day was no exception. I was sure that I had bombed this test within the first five minutes of being on the road. Why, you may ask? I was so nervous that I felt very twitchy and spastic with my driving. My instructor would give me directions, and I'd either end up hitting the breaks, pressing the gas, or I'd get super confused. I was more nervous than I'd ever been, and I felt so terrible about my tiny mistakes that I was 100% sure it was going to be an automatic fail. I didn't back up straight, I wasn't pulling up far enough to make my left turns, and when I looked both ways, I didn't always look "far enough". I was punching myself in the face with that invisible fist and cussing up a storm inside my head for being so stupid. You blew it. You blew it this time. That's all I could think. You'll need written permission now and have to accomplish another 20 hours of driving, you nervous wreck! I know I made some other tiny mistakes that I can't remember, so they probably weren't even that bad, but still. I was dumping on myself almost the entire time. By the time I was finished up in the neighborhood, I began to accept that I would not get my license. Accept and move on. Try harder next time.

 On the way out of the neighborhood, the instructor asked me where I got my orange seat belt pads. I said that I had no idea and that my mom bought them for me. She said, "These are really cute! I need to get something like this for my car!" She then asked me if I was out of school for summer and asked where I go to school, where I'll be transferring, and what I'm studying. I was talking to her calmly and keeping my eyes peeled at the same time, and I was so glad that we could get off of the driving subject for a few minutes because I was starting to calm down. I am no good with silence in the car, and I think she realized that after I had been driving in the neighborhood. When I told her I was studying creative writing, she asked if I wanted to become a journalist. I told her no, just a writer, but that I wanted to go into the publishing business to learn the ropes of how everything works. Then she started to tell me about how she wanted to get some sof her writing published because she had some pretty funny stories to tell, and I said, "Oh, that's really cool!" She seemed interested about my field of interest, which made me smile (:

As we approached the road that the bureau was on, this chick on our right side came out of nowhere without stopping to look both ways, and thanks to driving with my mom and being in the car with Taelor when most of these idiots pulled stuff like that, my reaction time was quick and I slammed on my brakes. As the instructor and I looked at her, we realized this girl was on her cellphone talking. The instructor forcefully threw her finger toward the window, as if trying to shoot gigantic fireballs out of her fingertip and at this stupid girl. The girl drove on, and as we pulled up to the light, the instructor once more threw her finger at the window, and then told me, "You have really good reflexes. That would have been my side too!" So I think the stupid girl actually saved my butt on this test. I guess not all new drivers are as quick when it comes to those kinds of things happening. My adrenaline helped me out a little bit there. Haha.

As we approached the bureau, the lady told me, "Okay, so we're going to parallel park now." Inside, I thought to myself, NO WAY. NO FREAKING WAY. I MADE IT TO PARALLEL PARKING?!?!?!?! HOLY CRAP I MADE IT TO PARALLEL PARKING!!! This was the chance to really redeem myself! I practiced this, so what was there to worry about? Oh yeah, I can think of one thing. Switching gears. I pulled up alongside the cones and put the car in reverse like I should. I began to back in and straighten out when she said, "You aren't going to fit. Pull out and try again." In all my nervousness, I thought that I had put the car in drive, when it was actually still in reverse. So I pressed on the gas and became confused as I realized I was still going backwards. By the time I realized what I was doing, I had already knocked a cone over. My driving instructor unbuckled as I repeatedly apologized for my mistake. She said, "That's alright. It's alright," and got out to fix the cone. Then she had me pull back into the lot. "Do you know how to park?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. So I pulled in and she sat there to score me. "Well, you passed," she said. "I did?" I asked in disbelief. "Yeah! You have some stuff you need to work on, but you're a good driver!" I glanced over at her score sheet and saw that she scored me with an 85%. I couldn't believe my eyes!! An 85? No way!! I had passed!

When I got inside, I told my mom about passing my test. She was ecstatic that I finally did it, and she told me that she had her friends praying for me, and that she also prayed to our deceased relatives and all the saints she could think of. I had to laugh. "Mom, did I really need that much higher power to help me pass this thing?" "It doesn't hurt," she replied with a smile. Gee, thanks,  I thought to myself. Because I, alone, wasn't capable. Still, I knew that a lot of people had been praying for me to get my license, so maybe it did work. I kept breathing in and out as the realization set in, and an African American guy sitting a few chairs away from me asked, "Did you pass?" I said yes, and he said, "Scary, wasn't it?" We both started laughing and he told me, "My heart was beating against my chest the whole time." He had some really good energy, which calmed me a little. People with good energy are always great to be around when I'm anxious. (:

I can't help but think that if I had gotten any other driving instructor, he or she would have failed me for sure. So many of them are in bad moods all the time, and they'll look to take off points for anything they can. But like I said, that girl on her cellphone probably saved my butt. I think that when things like that happen on the road, that's the real test of whether you drive well or not. You have to be able to make split-second decisions, and if you don't make them in time, the results can turn out to be really nasty. I'm thankful that I didn't crash her, because not only would I have wrecked the cars, but I could have hurt the nice lady sitting in the seat next to me, or the girl who had not been looking to see who was coming. I would have felt awful if I had been responsible for any injuries to anyone at all.

I'm still a new driver, and I'm still learning the rules of the road. But I know that as long as I take baby steps, and as long as I practice my driving, I'll be okay. It's a scary thing, being able to drive. When you're in that front seat with your hands on the wheel, you're responsible for your life and for the lives of others. It can be a bit unsettling as you set out on the road alone, but hey, driving is a privilege, and it's just something we all have to do eventually.

I'm glad I finally have my license. Although I tend to hold my breath getting out on the road without a parent in the car with me, I know that one day, I'll be asking myself why I was even nervous in the first place.

Thank you, Mom and Taelor, for giving the gift of quick reflexes and fast reaction time!

It starts with courage.

There comes a certain point in time where I have to sit back and ask myself if life can really be this rewarding. Looking back at only one year ago, all I can do is shake my head at what I wasn't expecting. Losing my grandma was the hardest thing that I've ever had to go through, and let me tell you, I've dealt with a lot of difficult things. But soon after her death, I started college, not knowing where I would end up. Within the course of a year, I've been published, made a small family up at college, made friends with a few of my professors, had the English teachers spot potential in me from the very first papers I've turned in to them, worked on the sets for two play productions, tech'd one show doing lights, gotten my artwork on the cover of my creative writing class booklet, and now I'm getting my feet even wetter in the theatre area by becoming an assistant stage manager in training for A Little Night Music. Of course, there has been the recent downside with Pogo dying, but I'm holding up pretty well. I actually bought a new guinea pig named Meeko, and from the looks of it, he's only a few months old. He has just realized recently that he can make noise and enjoys squeaking just for the sake of squeaking. It's actually quite cute (: His nails are currently lethal weapons and he broke the skin on the palm of my hand from kicking his legs. But other than that, he's pretty harmless. I can't wait to give his nails a trim!!

Anyway, I'm just sitting here tonight thinking about how truly lucky I am to finally be living my life. There are so many things that I did not envision happening to me when I was attending the summer class for my community college, and I honestly believe that God has been with me every step of the way. Not only that, but I've had the most supportive family and friends in the world. They've dealt with me through all of the hardships, tears, and anger that I've gone through, and to see that they're still standing by my side is a pretty remarkable thing. When I had my Christmas break in December, I fell into my depression spell again, and that was a huge test of loyalty to a lot of my friends. Anyone who didn't want to deal with it stopped coming around, and the people who I knew could deal with it weren't able to be around. It was a dark time, as was the summer when my grandma passed, and although some of my friends ducked out without leaving on a good note or without understanding, there were still a lot of people who stepped up to the plate and helped me out. To those people, I can't thank you enough for being on this planet. You've truly seen me at my worst and still love me for the weird, moody, crazy mess that I am.

Not only that, but my teachers have been a huge inspiration. It all started when I got into Elder's creative writing class up at my high school junior year. I was still in my awkward, growing up phase, and I was the quiet, uncomfortable girl who sat by herself because she was afraid everyone else would flock in and attack her. But after one semester in that classroom, I realized how talkative and animated I had become. I was getting friendly punches and taps on the arm in the hallways while walking to each class, and people found me very approachable and easy to talk to no matter what class I was in. I was finally growing comfortable in my own skin, and because of Elder and her constant smile and eagerness to help me, my writing and my confidence became rock solid. I ended up taking her independent study for creative writing my senior year, and by the time I got into college, I was already prepped and ready to go for my English classes. Another highly important teacher that helped me out with my writing in high school was Dixon. So many people talked about how horrible she was, but I just couldn't see it. She was funny and had great energy. I loved being in her class, and the very first paper that I turned into her was so believable that she thought what I had written about actually happened to me. She returned to school the next day worried sick that I was being bullied, and after I explained to her that I was a creative writer, she understood and told me that my paper was mistake free. I walked away with the only Advanced Composition Writing Award that semester for senior awards night which she designed just for me. It was a HUGE honor and a great way to end high school!! My English teachers up at college have all been very supportive since then, and I couldn't ask for anything more.

I haven't written anything for awhile. I've been going through a sort of dry spell, which is normal considering how much I've been writing the past two semesters. But I did want to write another blog post because I don't want to let a writing mood pass me by. I still worry about the future and ask myself when I'll be ready to write and complete a full book, but I know that with time will come more opportunities to get such tasks completed. I still believe that the world will know my name one day, and I won't stop working toward that goal until I get there and achieve it. So long as I keep the dream alive, my work ethic will only improve, and I can't wait to see where life takes me next.

Again, to everyone who is a part of my life right now... to my friends, family, readers, and to people who I'm sort of friends with but not really best friends with but still in that awkward "we should be friends this is so weird why aren't we friends" type of thing, thank you. Thank you for being supportive, and for being proud of my accomplishments. Thank you for making me laugh, giving me reasons to smile, and for dealing with all of my constant Facebook updates (because you know it's true, I update A LOT). I'm shocked I still have friends on FB with the way I post. Hahahaha. Anyway, if I had a glass in my hand right now, I'd raise it to you, because without such amazing people in my life, I can honestly say that I would probably not be where I am today.

Keep the dream alive, because once it dies, so does your spirit.