Signing Up

Signing Up

As a student, I am constantly signing up for classes, beginning a whole new experience with each unit I take. Whether that be the bonds formed by the desire to pull out our hair during labs or complaining and downing coffee throughout the endless nights spent studying, friendships are made and new visitors walk into our lives. Though most of the class won’t stay in touch after each semester is over, there is always those couple relationships in which you wish and pray for things to work out.

When you sign up for a class, you commit to x amount of hours studying (it’s usually never the number you thought you’d be spending, but you know this too); you commit to the hours in lecture and/or lab with your classmates; you sign up for the stress, the worry, the panic attacks, everything that could come with the class; you are there pushing through to make things work despite what happens (unless you have to drop, which always sucks).

Now, I’m thinking, what’s the sign up sheet for friendships? There are constantly people signing up to be your friend, either for a semester or for a lifetime, despite that most of them won’t end up being lifetime rock for you to lean on and share laughs with and be partners in crime or whatever you want to call them.

As someone who never had many friends growing up – I was always the loner, the weird/awkward kid, the one who lived under a rock, the one who didn’t really know how to keep friends – I still find myself not having many friends, but for other reasons. Throughout the life lessons we all are forced to learn as we grow up, some of us getting extremely guarded and isolated for that reason. I am very willing to be there for someone, but there aren’t many people who I would put my heart in their hands. I gotta know that they’re worth fighting for a relationship with, long-term. Looking for the kind of friend you want is way harder than finding the right classes to fit in your schedule…

But, to those of you who mean the world in my life right now, and you know who you are, I’m signing up…for you.

I’m signing up for all the times you are a mess because life’s a bitch. I’m signing up for the nights you need someone to cry to. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for all the weird as hell conversations that probably have ADD because of how many topics we jump around to. I’m signing up for the conversations people would look at weirdly if they read what we said. I’m signing up for the awesome and careless laughs, the essay-long (yes, it’s not “paragraph-long” but “essay-long”) text conversations catching up with you. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for the arguments I have with you through the clash we have between logic and emotion. I’m signing up to explain emotions to you. I’m signing up to be patient enough to let you learn what you need to learn, for life. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for the schedule clashes that come between us. I’m signing up to get frustrated when trying to see you after what feels like months apart. I’m signing up for the days I miss you in my life. I’m signing up for the silence from you and the silence I give you because life happens. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for the deep, meaningful conversations. I’m signing up for the “how are you”s we squeeze into the seconds we have to catch up at times. I’m signing up for the two minute conversations as we pass each other on campus. I’m signing up for the hours long rants. I’m signing up for late night phone calls. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up for your stubbornness in finding out what’s wrong. I’m signing up to be stubborn. I’m signing up for the advice we give each other. I’m signing up to wish you the best in everything you touch. I’m signing up to get excited when something works out for you. I’m signing up to cheer you on. I’m signing up to listen to your complaints. I’m signing up for you to rant to. I’m signing up.

I’m signing up to be here for you. I’m signing up to listen and learn about your life. I’m signing up to try to understand what you’re going through. I’m signing up to help you as I can. I’m signing up.

And I’m not walking away.

Enroll

Advertisements

To the world:
I am a face. I am a person. I am a stranger without a name.
I am one without a backstory. I am one without a history, because no one knows it yet.
I am someone behind a screen. I am one more person to worry about. I am another who needs money to survive.

To the ones who see me:
I am a daughter. I am a friend. I am a sister. I have a name.
I am a student. I am still young. I am growing up. I am “old enough”.
I am a girl. I can be a wife. I can be a mother, a mother who has a son.
I am a mystery. I am someone to be intrigued by. I have a story. I have a life.

To my friends:
I am a hard worker. I am dedicated. I am passionate. I am caring.
I am considerate. I am thankful. I am grateful. I am helpful.
I am someone who struggles. I am someone who has problems. I am someone who deals with life.
I am a writer. I am a photographer. I am an engineering major. I am someone dedicated to STEM.
I am still learning. I am still figuring things out. I am still exploring the world that surrounds.

To my parents:
I am a daughter who has been through too much. I am the youngest of two. I am the little princess of the family.
I am closed off. I am distant. I am everything they taught me to be.
I am confusing. I am difficult. I am stubborn like a bull. I am a time bomb waiting to explode.
I am precious. I am delicate. I am not capable of handling my own health.
I am a stranger in both the two houses in which I have lived in.

To me:
I am a warrior. I am a fighter. I am a survivor. I am not one to mess with.

Hurt.

Hurt.

The phrase “…emotionally unavailable…” always raises red flags, from those who have learned better. The minute where you feel as if you can never get a hold of the person who means the most to you is the minute you question whether they are as devoted to you as you are in them. The second you realize you are feeling as if you are grasping your hands at something that’s not there is the second you recognize that the pain you feel burying deep into your chest is a pain you are in control of.

A lot of us know this feeling, this situation where we are hopelessly trying to hold onto something that’s not there. But not many of us know what it is to be on the other side of this ‘red flag’ a lot of us continuously walk away from. I mean, it’s not as openly discussed as being the one who can’t get into someone’s heart.

We’ve been taught from either friends or family to walk away from someone who doesn’t seem to give you enough or isn’t willing to be as vulnerably emotionally as we deem necessary for a relationship. We’ve been constantly told to walk away from the person who is in such pain that they have closed themselves off from their surroundings in attempt to keep their heart safe from the pain multiplying once again. We’ve been…possibly, taught wrong.

Everyone has felt pain. Everyone has pushed someone away because of that pain. Everyone has walked away from something that created pain for them.

Everyone has wanted someone to break down the walls they’ve built around themselves in attempt the shield their hearts from the cold wind. Everyone has broken down in someone else’s arms and feeling a kind of relief as the other person held them. Everyone has isolated themselves to wait and see who cares enough to come after them and be with them.

But when it comes to seeing someone else in that light, we have been taught to walk away because “they couldn’t possibly be everything we need and want them to be” or some bullshit like that. But guess what? We’re all going to be in that stage in life at least once in our lifetime, whether it be short or long, whether we have been there already or not. We will be, once again, the person in pain who never wants to feel broken again. We will be, for some time, the person who is simply seeking another who will care enough to break down the walls and come hold us, telling us everything will be alright because we have them by our side.

We will be THAT person. So why are we being taught to walk away from THAT person if THAT person will be us, one day or another? We’re being taught to walk away from ourselves. We’re being taught to ignore our own pain. We’re being taught that trying to protect ourselves is wrong. We’re being taught that trying to be a little selfish is wrong.

You know what’s “wrong”? Hurting someone so much that they feel like they have to lock their heart in a cage. Overlooking someone’s pain so much that they think their emotions don’t matter. Walking away from someone so often that they believe they will never be worth someone else’s time. Not giving someone a chance just because they’re in pain.

So “…emotionally unavailable…” should be “…in so much freaking pain…”

The Girl

The Girl

The little girl who plays with her Barbie dolls on the hardwood floor in the playroom.

The little girl twirling around in her favorite blue and green dress as her parents take forever to get ready for another office party.

The girl arguing with her mother for the thousandth time over why she does not want to wear her hair up or put any of the pretty little clips in.

The girl getting lectured over not being girly enough, and caring too much about her friends.

The girl who is more excited to help her dad build a fence for the puppies in the back, then she ever was to help her mom make dinner in the kitchen.

The girl who doesn’t have any friends at school, the one who awkwardly hides in her math teacher’s classroom.

The girl practicing her violin as much as she could in the one hour she had in music class.

The girl learning for the first time what it means to have a real friend, someone to talk to, someone to lean on, someone to laugh with.

The girl trying to figure out what she wants to study in college.

The young girl arguing with her mom for the billionth time over why she couldn’t follow her dreams and become a professional writer or photographer.

The young girl trying to learn what it was like to be in a relationship for the first time, and what it is like for a young man to treat her right.

The young girl moving onto to college and saying ‘goodbye’ to her acquaintances, learning to time manage, and struggling through the first semester.

The young girl who feels more broken than whole after a harsh breakup.

The young girl who can’t stop talking about her boyfriend, while wearing his jacket that hangs on her like a dress.

The young girl who studies in the library for hours each day.

The young girl who is trying to figure out where her passions will get her in the future.

None of these girls seem to exist in the same time frame but…in reality, they all do.

Irrelevant

Break Through

Break Through

She can’t avoid admitting she’s slipping back into the darkness, but her heart knows it’s a little bit more complex than that. Her mind wonders, her heart seeks to find…something, someone, she will never know until it is found. Maybe it’s someone to care, maybe it’s someone to repair her, maybe it’s…simply a piece of her she had thought she had lost forever.

She knows she needs to look not around but deep inside her for the answers she yearns for. The longer she stays in the empty woods, the more piercing the cold wind seems to be. The little blows at the leaves scar her flesh; the gushes of wind knock the air out of her lungs; the heavy downpour completely disables her. She spends more time trying to recover, more time trying to survive the brutal cuts, more time trying to remain sane than attempting to bathe in the sunlight that shines above the clouds.

She looks up, through the frost and the mist, through the thick leaves and little creatures, through the rain clouds that storm onward, and she prays. She asks, what is the point in all of this because she has yet to understand. She has yet to read the book of knowledge and learn the truth.

She has yet to break through from the flames as the warrior she has always been.

Wake up. Realize There’s More.

Wake up. Realize There’s More.

I’m sick and tired of being played. I’m sick and tired of being tortured, manipulated, used. I’m sick and tired of trying to make something meaningful, and getting bullshit in return.

To the young females and males out there, who know what it’s like and who are trying their uttermost best to change something about the worlds around them for the better:

I salute you. It doesn’t seem it matters how many times our hearts get torn out of our chests and beaten with wood. It doesn’t seem to make a difference how many strangers walk into our lives and turn it upside down. And it doesn’t matter how the world around us tells us to give up, because we all know, deep down in our hearts, that we will never stop fighting for good. Whether that battle be within ourselves, between our minds and hearts, or between those who we are supposed to be standing beside, we will not stop fighting.

But I’m getting tired. I have to admit, I’m getting sick and tired of all the hurt and the pain that comes from hoping for too much too soon and having too much faith in what’s not there.

When I see that there is potential somewhere, sometimes I jump at the opportunity to turn it into something meaningful right off the bat. When I see there is light in someone’s heart, that spark in someone’s eyes, I pray for them to be able to keep that for the rest of eternity. When I feel something, when there’s a moment in life where I wish I could replay it over and over again, I know there is still something surrounding all of us that is more than the everyday worries we all have running through our minds. There’s something more than what jobs we have, how successful we are money wise, or what kinds of opportunities for fame we missed; the friendships we have, the relationships we love, the human connections we live for…that is more than anything and everything that exists in both mind and body.

But…why do we, as a society, raise up the importance of “connections” in the business world and letter grades on courses about knowledge rather than human connections with one another as human beings and all those lovely moments we all wish to relive once again.

On the top of my head I can name a few:

  • The first time he called me ‘baby’ when I was riding in the front seat of his car.
  • The first time I won an art competition with a photograph that completely represented who I was.
  • The times he held my hand as we walked down the street talking and laughing about anything and everything that came to mind.
  • The times he said ‘forever and a day’ because it was a cute catch phrase he had way back when.
  • The times I’d find myself laughing so hard that my stomach hurt and all my friends were laughing just as loud around me.
  • The times my parents and siblings could finally cook a meal together without someone trying to eat another’s ear off.
  • The last time my mom told me she was proud of me, despite my having to ask her first.
  • The last time I simply sat with a friend and told them a bit of who I am and what I’m made of.
  • The last time I felt as if I was home when I was in someone else’s arms.
  • The last time I felt safe just with the presence of someone else I truly trusted.

Those are the moments, those are the things, those are the feelings we should be holding onto…not the trophies we won, not the certificates that just became pieces of paper, not that million dollar toilet painted yellow, not the labels we, as a society, give each other as ‘titles’ of our accomplishments as if the title means more than the knowledge itself.

I’m sick and tired of people laughing at, or joking around about, or teasing someone over how ‘sensitive’ they are to their relationships with those around them. I’m sick and tired of people making relationships sound like “decorations for Christmas” or “a center piece for the table”. It’s not the accessories that we don’t always need…it’s the structure of everything that is our lives and everything that should really mean a damn to you.

Play Me. Play You.

Play Me. Play You.

We’ve all played that game.

It’s where you pretend to not be attracted to a person, who is doing the same exact thing to you. It’s where you laugh casually but wish for them to notice how beautiful your smile is or how your eyes shine when you’re happy. It’s where you do the little things to get their attention and then brush it off as if you don’t really care. It’s where the nonchalant gestures are suddenly more forced and more characterized as acting.

It’s where you continue on with the flirting until one of you finally gets the courage to kiss the other, and you feel the sparks fly. It’s where you finally feel safer being yourself in their arms because there is no other place you would rather be. It’s when everyone knows you are in mutual ‘like’ because you stare at each other with googly eyes. It’s when you can’t get enough of their time, their smile, their laugh, their voice. It’s when life feels like a fairytale and the butterflies constantly flutter in your heart.

It’s when you listen to those love songs and believe every single one of them perfectly pictures your movie life with them. It’s when you open yours eyes each morning with a smile on your face because of a ‘good morning’ text you saw that day. It’s when you can’t even go to sleep knowing you get to spend some more time with them the very next day. It’s when you laugh to yourself when you replay your fairytale-like memories in your head as you walk to your car at night. It’s when you can’t help but turn up the radio and scream the lyrics to that cheesy love song you used to hate.

Please, you can’t deny that we’ve all played that game.