The thing about living in the desert is that it gets hot. Fast. Even though the heat is welcome after such an awful winter, it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t had any time to update my closet for the seasonal change. I emptied my closet of anything I hadn’t worn in 6 months or more about a month ago, and at the time my spring flannels and such were still weather appropriate. That is no longer the case. I’m pretty sure that, if I tried to step outside in any of those clothes, I would collapse from a serious case of heatstroke in .5 seconds. The best part about all this? It’s only May. It’s only going to get hotter after this. And all I have to suit this heat are three pairs of shorts and the same 5 light blouses I have to keep wearing.
It’s a blatantly obvious fact that I need to invest in some new clothing. I guess it’s good that I sort of actually like shopping now.
But alas, I have already made one awful mistake when it comes to the summer sun. For the last month, I’ve been spending roughly 3 days a week doing some service for a neighbor. It’s nothing huge really, but I have gained some rather awesomely toned arms thanks to it. I’ve also gotten the weirdest tan of my life, thanks to my lack of appropriate clothing.
First off, we’ve got my legs. All the same color…except when you get about halfway down my calf. There we find a drastic change in shades of brown. A very uneven change. This is because of my oh-so wise decision to roll up my jeans and let half my calf soak up the sun, while the rest of legs remained concealed under the shade of denim. The worst part is that it isn’t even just my ankle. The tan starts at a very awkward and noticeable part of my body. Hallelujah.
Moving on, we see that my arms have already started their progress to that awesome shade of dark, dark milk chocolate brown that I take on during the summer months. It looks rather great, really, if I do say so myself. But then there is the little fact that the darkness turns to a pale, sickly brown a few inches above my elbows. Farmer’s tan, ya’ll. And all because I wore one slightly longer t-shirt. I wore a regular t-shirt to an event the other day and was horrified to see the obvious difference in my coloring. I need to find a way to fix this, pronto. Or else it’ll just look like I ran out of self-tanner halfway through the process.
Next we have the lovely specimen of my neck. It’s all gorgeous and dark…until it’s not my neck anymore. Curse those stupid high-rise t-shirts. I now have a dark neck…but my shoulders and upper back? Gross. It’s so obvious that it hurts. I can’t even wear my regular shirts, now. I tried. My sister almost fainted from laughing so hard.
As for the rest of my face? My nose is darker than everything else. Baseball caps don’t do much for that area when you’re staring directly into the sun for 8 hours.
Oh, and how could we forget my left hand? My middle finger bears the lovely white lines from where I wear the same two rings every day. But I don’t really wear them in the summer…so now I just have this awkward white ring there.
I mean really, people. It’s not even technically summer yet. How can this be happening to me? My pool isn’t even set up for me to go out and tan and try to even all this awkwardness out. I just have to walk around looking like a mis-matched freak for the next while. How is any boy going to find me snoggable when I look like a brown gradient scale? I’ve had great feelings about this summer, but maybe it was just all in my head…
Conclusion: I currently look positively horrible in a swimsuit. Not my body shape, but my body color. Which is like, 10x worse.
It was the closing night of the school production of Les Miserables, the stunning masterpiece I had been introduced to because of you and your performance as Eponine. I was helping out backstage and thinking of you every moment. You’d talked to me a few days earlier about how much you wished you could come see it, we’d even talked about the impossible idea of you coming to do my hair for prom. The show was running beautifully. The lights and mics were all working flawlessly, and the performers were full of energy. I was smiling and thinking about how much you would be enjoying this. My family had come to see the show that night, and from what I could see, they were enjoying themselves.
During intermission, I stayed backstage to assist with costume changes and last minute makeup touch-ups. I was thinking of you. I wasn’t paying any attention to my family in the audience. I didn’t notice that my dad had disappeared into the hallway to take a phone call. I didn’t notice him coming in later with his eyes red and tear stains on his face.
During the second act, I snuck away from the business of everything going on backstage to watch A Little Fall of Rain, like I always did. Tonight’s performance seemed more potent than the others. It was almost as if I could feel you there next to me, smiling and singing along. I smiled from the feeling. Eponine fell silent, and the feeling of you next to me moved on. I didn’t think much of it at the time.
After the curtain closed, I ran out to meet my family. As we drove home, Amanda and I talked nonstop about the show. My mom and dad praised it highly as well. I beamed with the pride of my school, thinking that the show must have been moving enough to make them cry – that must have been why their eyes were red, and why it looked they had been crying. I didn’t think it could be anything else. Everything had gone so perfectly, and it was so late at night. What could possibly happen? Curse my naive mind.
When we got home, my parents were quiet. They told my sister and I that they needed to talk to us. The only time that ever happened was when we had done something wrong, and Amanda and I looked at each other with confusion before settling down on the couch across from them. We knew almost immediately that this was something different. Mom started bawling, and dad grew extremely solemn.
How was I to know about the phone call he took earlier during intermission? How was I to know that the tear stains on my parents faces weren’t from a moving performance? How was I to know that what I felt during A Little Fall of Rain really was your spirit coming to say goodbye? How was I to know that our joking conversation about musicals and hoping to see each other that summer would be our last?
It looked like an accident, they said. Nobody had heard from you in a few days, and everyone was getting worried. I had even found myself wondering where your usual daily Facebook updates were. But I wasn’t overly concerned. I didn’t think I had any reason to be. They said that nobody was really sure what had happened, but that you were alone in your apartment. I don’t remember anything else they said because I had gone into shock. I let out a scream and the tears were unstoppable. I curled up on the floor and moaned in grief. I cried and cried and yelled “why?” more times than I can remember. I started choking on the salt and bile in my mouth, and let out sputtering coughs. I covered my face with my hands, biting my fingers to keep from screaming. I cried and cried. I couldn’t believe it. No – not you- this couldn’t really be happening.
My mind flashed back to all the memories I had of you. I remember you playing with my incredibly long hair during the summers. I remembered driving for what seemed like forever to come and see you as Eponine in Les Miserables. I remembered your smile, your laugh, your voice. I remembered seeing you reading books on the beach. I remembered your hair and how it was always done in such fantastic ways.
I remembered how we didn’t see each other for a long time. But I heard about you, and I was always worried about you. I remembered praying for you constantly, always having you on my mind.
I remembered when we started talking through Facebook while I was in the Philippines. You always told me I was pretty and smart. You told me that I was beautiful. We were connected again.
I remember when you came to stay here. It was summer. We went swimming at midnight. We stayed up late catching up, and you listened to all my silly little teenage anecdotes. You showed me how to make my hair manageable. You were so excited to sit me down and give me a makeover – and I loved every minute of it. It was that week that we discovered that we had similar music tastes. We spent the afternoon discussing artists and songs, and you sang. Oh boy, did you sing. I loved hearing you sing, and dreamed that someday I would be able to be half as incredible. We stayed up late watching movies and downloading songs onto my computer.
And then I remembered the last time I saw you. We were driving through to California and stopped by. You were so beautiful. You looked so happy, and there was that light in you again. We went out to dinner, and I sat next to you while you ordered a Shirley Temple. I chugged down three glasses of lemonade. We talked about the differences between having cream sauces and fruit sauces on chicken.
Afterwards, we left the rest of the family behind and you took me out to see your apartment – the same apartment you would pass away in just a few months later. You had just started all your collages, and you wanted to show me. We sat on the floor flipping through magazines and pointing out the makeup in the ads, and talking about our favorite actors and actresses. We talked about TV shows and music. You belted along to Journey and Kansas and I sat back laughing and smiling. It was a good night, and I look back on it often and fondly.
I remembered all of these things, and I remembered how hard your life had been. I was not envious of it by any means, but I was envious of your strength. Your perseverance inspires me. I know that I would have given up long before you did. I know that it wasn’t easy, and that I will never really understand what you went through. But I do know that I loved you. I loved how you always seemed to know what I needed that little comment to make me smile. I loved how you seemed to be the only person that could understand the wars going on in my head.
It’s been two years since that awful night. The pain and anguish I felt that night, and on the day of your funeral, isn’t here anymore. I don’t know why you had to go when you did, but I believe that there was a reason. I believe that you are somewhere that is better for you. I believe that it is the same place grandma is, and where Jared is. I believe that you watch over your family each and every day.
I still think of you often. I remember you, even in the smallest way, every single day. We may not have lived close to each other, or seen each other that often, but you were still a part of my life, and when you left, a hole appeared in my heart. It’s a hole that isn’t life threatening, but the pain is still very real. Of course I wish you were still here and that we still had those little chats, but I also want you to be happy. And there is nowhere happier than where you are now.
I still think of you even two years later, and I will think of you until we meet again.
There are times when words fail us. Even the most literate and voab-enthused of us will find times when the things we feel and experience are inadequately expressed through words. But if there is one thing that never fails to find a way to express how I feel, it is music.
I could go on and on about the past year of my life and complain endlessly about some parts, while simultaneously praising and smiling about others. But that could easily turn into a novel, and nobody has time for that right now. Instead, I’ve gone through and composed a (very) accurate playlist for the last 12 months. Maybe these songs will give a better idea of how my last year has been better than any monologue could. Let’s start from the beginning:
June 2012
Pencil Full of Lead – Paolo Nutini
I spent the majority of the summer of 2012 running around Europe. I honestly had no worries about anything. My life was completely fantastic. I was living the dream, and there was only good going on all around me. I was in a dancing mood all the time.
As I rode on train after train and caught bus after bus and waiting in line after line, I had this song playing almost constantly. It made a perfect ‘Traveling Through Europe’ soundtrack, and every time I hear it I can still see myself making my way through the crowd of Rome and speeding through the Italian countryside. Ah, the memories. Good times.
August 2012
When I Am King – Tim Knol
Skipping ahead a month (I was still in Europe through July), it’s time for another academic year to begin.
Again, things are looking pretty good. Not quite as carefree as the last two months, but I’m all ready to dig in. I’ve got plans, and ain’t nobody gonna take them away from me. I’m thinking of little else but the future and what I want to do with my life. I don’t have any plans on letting anything get in the way, or of letting any distractions come along. I don’t expect any distractions to come along. This is going to be a good year, I can feel it. There is nothing I want or need right now. I am totally good.
September 2012
Everybody’s Got Somebody But Me – Hunter Hayes
I started spending my weekends at the fall farmer’s market a few minutes from my home. Living in a college town, mushy couples are something you get used to pretty quickly. But dang. It was as if someone decided that farmer’s markets are the hopping romantic place to be, because every. single. week. I was the only person there without some significant other keeping hold of one of my hands.
For the first time in a long time, I started to wish that someone would take an interest in me for once. But hey, I’m used to being the single one, and I was overly concerned with finding a cuddle buddy. I have far more important things to cuddle… I mean… far more important things to think about.
October 2012
Prove You Wrong – He Is We
Yup.
November 2012
Violet Hill - Coldplay
Welcome to the part of the last year where things get really…confusing.
While the lyrics of this classic song are extremely relevant as well, the feel of it is even more applicable. It’s darker and extremely confused. It’s absolutely perfect.
But if you love me, won’t you let me know?
December 2012
I’ve got two for this month. It deserves two, because it was a very…tough month. I was working a ridiculous amount of hours, my friends had nothing but me complaining and sleeping at awkward times. It was freezing and snowing all the time, there were family emergencies galore, and Christmas was right around the corner. I had finals the week before Christmas, and was working holiday hours. My social life was filled with stress; rumors of my love life began flying around, and I wasn’t even sure how I felt about anybody. It was awful. And so, I narrowed all the feelings down to these two songs:
Tip Toes – Jayme Dee
Please enjoy the complete girly-ness of this songs. Sometimes…that’s just how girls feel, okay? So shut your mouth and deal with it.
The Good Times Are Killing Me – Modest Mouse
Classic.
January 2013
Terrible Things – April Smith and the Great Picture Show
Big things happened in January. I made some mistakes, and I freaked out a little (a lot).
If you dig under my feet, you will find things that you don’t want to see….What would you do, if you only knew?
February 2013
February was one beast of a month. I don’t even want to think about it. It was the single most roller-coaster of emotions month I have ever experienced. Eventually it all boiled down to the fact that I was in denial of my own feelings…about everything.
Please Don’t Say You Love Me – Gabrielle Aplin (who has quickly become one of my favorite artists, by the way)
For the second half of the month, go listen to Backdrifts by Radiohead.
March 2013
Falling In Love With My Best Friend – Matt White
So along came the beginning of the month…
…and thus Savannah fell into the danger zone. I came to term with my own feelings about this one thing… and it scared the crap out of me. I swore I wasn’t going to let it happen.
And all my other relationships took a backseat, which was definitely all my fault and a horrible mistake. But I’m human, and I have most definitely learned from said mistakes.
Then the end of the month happened…
Love Like A Sunset - Phoenix
I’m not going to go into details here. But the song title, feeling, and lyrics all come into play. If you want an idea of what I’m talking about, see this post. You could also listen to Just A Kiss from Lady Antebellum, if you’re okay with mainstream stuff like that. Oh yay for my one evening of happiness. It all goes downhill (even more) from here, folks.
April 2013
April. The month from the deepest circle of Hell. First of all, everything – and I mean everything – fell apart. It was just one things after another. One giant, awful explosion of all the tension and emotion that had been building up all year. My heart was broken and confused. My mind was searching everywhere for some explanation that I am never going to get. My soul was ripped in two.
Every single day was just more emotionally wrenching than the last, and I just about broke. But I didn’t. I woke up everyday and pulled myself out of bed. I made myself shower and do my hair. I made myself pick out an outfit and brush my teeth. And I walked around with my head high. It sucked and hurt beyond reason, but I did it.
This song applies on every level, with every relationship that burned down in those few weeks. I was angry and pissed and sad and had just about every emotion coursing through my veins at toxic levels. I wanted everything back to the way it was, but at the same time I just wanted it to all be over and to move on and get a new life. I saw how horrible it would be if I did go back to all that, but I was still attached to the memories and the love I had for all these people. Being a language person, communication is basically the only thing I rely on to convey emotion. And we all know that communication is essential to fixing anything. But for that whole month, there was NO communication, and I was dying. I just wanted to start screaming everything I had inside.
The raw emotion and lyrics in this song just speak the feeling of my soul.
Say It To Me Now -Glen Hansard
I’m trying hard to work it out. But so much has gone misunderstood, and this mystery only leads to doubt. I didn’t understand, when you reached down to take my hand. And if you have something to say, you better say it now. This is what you’ve waited for, your chance to even up the score.
May 2013
I guess the biggest question is, where do I stand now?
It’s nearly June, and I can safely – completely truthfully – say that everything is better. I have come to cherish the good moments, and not look on them with bitterness. I can look at the bad times without any regret and without any pain coming to stab my heart. I don’t wake up every day thinking about the same things over and over. In fact, I find that I don’t think about any of that much any more. I have so much going for me in the future that I can’t be bothered with being weighed down by the past.
I guess I didn’t realize just how much I was over the events of the last few months until yesterday. I thought that I was the one who had been hung up and holding on, but I got a message about something I hadn’t thought about in weeks. Someone else brought up a name I hadn’t given a thought to in weeks. And then someone else posted a photo that I didn’t even give a second glance at – in fact I started laughing at the fact that this person was still thinking about me. I hadn’t thought about them in… a while.
So how do I feel now? Let’s ask the music:
Lately - The Helio Sequence
Lately, I don’t think of you at all, or wonder what you’re up to or how you’re getting on. I never think of calling you, or how things could have been.
And yes, I’ll admit it (but just this once), that I still feel a little like this once in a while. But not over one person in particular, but just over everything and about everyone in general. Because who doesn’t need a little nostalgia once in a while?
Say Anything – Tristan Prettyman
I would tell you that I loved you, even when it didn’t show. I would tell you that I loved you…by now I hope you know.
I find that you can tell a lot about somebody from the messages on their phone. I’m not sure what any of these say about me, but I’ll leave that up to you to decide. Hopefully this doesn’t get me reported to the local mental institution.
So, for your entertainment (or possibly horror), I give you a handful of the messages I found myself sending this week.
I really need to stop walking in on people macking. It’s starting to affect my eating habits.
I think I just found the perfect snogging spot.
THIS PAPER IS KILLING ME
Does having a dream where you make out with your worst enemy and then beat them over the head to a bloody pulp define a “love-hate relationship?”
Just FYI: Hugh Dancy laying on a magic mattress would be a fantastic graduation present.
I Want A Boyfriend With A Car by Kate Nash is the song of my life right now.
Hey now, hey now, this is what dreeeams are made of!
I did not just take a three hour nap on the floor. Nope, I did not just do that.
What if you made chocolate chip cookies without chocolate chips. Then would they just be cookies?
THAT SLUT
THAT DOUBLE SLUT
TRIPLE SLUT AND WHORE
I feel like the bowl of melted ice cream on my kitchen counter is an accurate representation of my life. It had so much potential. But now….meh.
OH MY HOLY GUACAMOLE THEY SELL BISCOFF AT WALMART. GET IN THE CAR – WE’RE GOING SHOPPING. THIS IS ACTUALLY THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.
She doesn’t seem like the type of girl who would be rude enough to interrupt a conversation with intelligence.
Can somebody call the club? I think they lost a stripper, and I found her at this party.
I really just need a classy man who will come to fancy art shows with me and partake in the utter brilliance that is listening to a string quartet whilst holding a glass of a bubbly drink in your hand and a small plate of classy hors d’ouvres in your other hand.
Does it start with B and rhyme with Itch?
There’s this cool thing nowadays called air. GO GET SOME.
Oops – I didn’t see you guys there through all the HORMONES FLYING THROUGH THE AIR.
I only have two options left: either success, or complete failure that will make me feel like the worthless piece of ish that I am.
If I don’t get some mother-flipping ice cream in me body right now, I will set your car on fire.
Jimmy Stewart is such a gorgeous piece of man.
The cello is the single sexiest looking instrument on this plant. THE. WHOLE. PLANET. Have you seen those curves?? And you have to spread your legs to play it. And the music? Total music-gasm. The whole instrument is just a physical representation of sex.
I think dung beetles are my spirit animal.
I love Gregory Peck more than my dog.
Can I hire Jazz musicians to come to my house and serenade me under the moon? Actually, that would just make me feel romantic and desperate – and I’m not having any fling with some lame musician. So scratch that idea. Violinists it is.
This is my pathetic excuse for a life. Please don’t judge me.
Classic webcam photo right here, folks. Gotta love my facial expressions.
Let’s be honest here – I am no model. I’m not skinny. I don’t have a thigh-gap (okay but seriously, who came up with the idea that a gap between your legs is attractive? It’s kind of frightening and sickly, actually). I’m not a size zero. I’m not particularly tall (I barely scrape 5’7″), and my face is the picture you find next to the dictionary definition of ‘average.’ I’m not say that I see myself as someone who fell off the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down (please, do tell me if I’m wrong), but I don’t expect you’ll being seeing my facing gracing the cover of Vogue anytime soon.
But despite all this, I still kind of hate looking at myself. I’ll admit that I suffer from the great disease of comparison. I’m always looking at myself compared to everyone else around me. I’ll be checking how my hair looks, what my clothes look like, and other typical things. I never really hated myself, I would just prefer to not look at myself in the mirror. I like to try and look nice, but I never believe that I look the best.
I’ve also never ever been comfortable with my body. Typical girl alert – but it’s the truth. I’ve always felt a little…fat. I don’t like shopping for clothes because I feel like I can’t pull off any of those cute styles everyone else seems to be wearing, and I really despise using fitting rooms. It wasn’t like I wasn’t healthy, but I wasn’t really comfortable either.
In the last few weeks, something has changed. I can’t pin point an exact time, but it was around the beginning of April. I just stopped caring. I decided that I would never be one of those walking sticks where clothes just seem to drape perfectly over them. I was never going to get the flat tummy or the body that everyone expected me to have. So why should I be so concerned with what I was eating? I just wanted to be happy. So I stopped caring and started accepting myself for who I am now, and not looking at my body with the critical eye of If Only about every part of my body.
I stopped trying to conform to what I thought I should look like, and I started to like myself as I am. I ate what made me feel good, and I stopped weighing myself daily. I started finding ways to wear whatever I thought was cute, and even began to like shopping a little bit. I just started doing things that make me feel good. And guess what happened?
I. Feel. Good.
I caught a glance at myself in the mirror the other day, and for the first time in my entire life I found myself thinking, “Hey, I don’t look half bad.” I had never thought that about myself. It was always my first instinct to pick out all my flaws whenever I looked at myself.
But now, I feel comfortable with myself. I like who I am and what I look like. I don’t feel like starting a more intense workout routine or going on any fancy diets. I just like…me. I’m at the perfect weight for my height and build*, and I feel good about it.
I’m comfortable in anything I wear. I’m okay with the fact that my stomach gets a little roll when I sit down or bend over – news flash: that’s NORMAL (healthy, even). I like that my legs have actual shape to them, instead of just being one size all the way up. I like that I have an hourglass shape instead of straight hips. I like the fact that I have boobs – real boobs. They might be the devil when it comes to button-up tops, but it’s way better than being flat-chested. I think it’s safe to say that my self-confidence has grown. I stand a little taller and smile a little more genuinely. It amazing what feeling good in your own skin can do. I’m still not the skinniest or the prettiest girl in a room, but I’m okay with that. I feel good about myself. It’s taken a long time for me to get to that point.
I like my body the way it is, and that’s the first time I ever been able to say that.
*for the record (and I am completely comfortable with sharing this information), I am 5’7″ and weigh about 140. I’m decently active, so some of that might just be my freaking awesome muscles. I’m a size 6/8, more commonly known as a Medium. And I am completely okay with all of this. In fact, I’m kind of happy with it.
It will all be alright in the end. Really, really. Things are already looking up. Doors are opening all around you. Things might still be a little rocky, but there is definitely stability in sight. Everything is already so much better than it was a month ago. Things are good. Be prepared for great.
Change is good. Packing everything up and moving to a new city (maybe state or even country), might just be what you needed. A new life. Fresh starts in everything. Maybe this is God answering your prayers. Maybe this is all happening for a reason. Maybe this is His timing, and it’s time to accept it. This is good. Change is good.
You are more. “You are more than the choices that you’ve made. You are more than the sum of your past mistakes. You are more than the problems that you create.” Hold on. Stay strong. You are more. Good things will come.
There are some things that I will always and forever hate completely. If you participate in any of these actions, there’s a pretty fat chance that you’re not on my list of ‘People I Love.’ Just saying.
Clogging My Facebook / Instagram / Other Social Networking Sites With Your Hundreds of Selfies
Really? How many pictures does one need of themselves? And do you really have to be the one to take it? Nobody needs to see your arm tilted at an awkward angle just so you could get those duck lips in the frame. I get it if you want to show off your new haircut (even that is pushing it) or a special outfit or something – but when it comes to picture after picture of you just lounging on the couch and making ‘cute’ faces? Please just get off the internet.
Taking Selfies.
I really just hate these in general. People know what you look like gosh dang. I’d much rather have a close up of that oh-so unique smoothie you had for lunch.
Posting Random Pictures With Mismatched Captions
Oh look, a sunset! Wait…. ‘ had such a bad day ugh I just need a coke’ …
Just…why? I don’t think I will ever understand the need to just say something so badly that you have to take a picture and post it just as an excuse to say that you had a bad day. If you had a bad day, go eat some ice cream and pop in a shameless chick-flick like the rest of us. Your photo/caption inconsistency is driving me bonkers.
Borrowing My Books For An Unacceptable Amount of Time
It’s one thing if I just hand you a book and say “You need to read this! Let me know when you get around to it!” That means that you can put off reading it for as long as you want since I basically just dropped something in your hands that I don’t even know you have time to read. But if you ask for a book and then don’t read it for a few months (or maybe years…)? Unacceptable. I don’t think you realize the special bond that stack of paper and I have. If you want to borrow a book, READ IT. It shouldn’t take more than month. At most. Honestly, people.
Defacing My Books In Any Way
I think this one speaks for itself. Personal experience: Ink marks, tattered edges, and torn covers/jackets are the worst. I may or may not actually cry and mourn over the way my precious babies have been treated if I get a book back that looks like you just dumped it in a pile of ‘Things That Don’t Actually Matter To Me Or Anyone Else As Far As I’m Concerned.
If you do this, there is no forgiveness. Just a warning.
Hating Ice Cream
It’s an essential food group. No hatin’ on the pillow of the gods.
You Are Inconsistent With Your Feelings
“You either have the feeling or you don’t” – Daniel Handler, Why We Broke Up
Can’t decide what you want? Can’t figure out your priorities? Talk laugh and care about me and my feelings one day, and then don’t acknowledge my existence the next? I’ve got news for you – I don’t do roller coasters. And you, my friend, are a roller coaster. So I think I’ll just skip this ride and head over to the tilt-a-whirl now, thank you.
I Hate Your Friends
It’s sad but true. Chances are, if I hate (or really really just do NOT care about) the other people that you spend the majority of your time with, I will hate you too. I don’t even really have to know you. Just the people you surround yourself with says enough. If I can’t trust them, why should I trust you? Who you spend your time with says a lot about yourself, and there are certain types of people I don’t associate myself with. You hang out with those people all the time? Congratulations! You now ARE one of those people.
You Hate England / Britain / British Things in General
I’m sorry, but there’s just no chance between us if you fall into this category.
You Expect Me To Be Perfect
Nobody’s perfect, dude. I make more mistakes than most, and if you have such high expectations for me, I will disappoint. I don’t expect you to be perfect, in fact I probably like you because of your flaws. So please don’t expect such stupid things out of me.
You’re Selfish.
Always a turn OFF.
You Think I Won’t Understand
I am not blind. I am not absent of the abilities of sympathy and empathy. 99% of the time, I get it. It’s just up to you to realize that. I understand people pretty well, actually. That’s what a lifetime of reading and writing about other people does to you. So get your head out of the clouds and realize that I get it. I won’t judge or not care. I always care. It’s the showing that I care part that I’m not so great at. But I do understand. Understand?
You Tell Me Everything, Act Like You Care About Me, Tell Me All The Right Things, Make Me Hope For The First Time In Years, And Then You Drop Me Like We Were Never Friends or Confidants and Act Like I Don’t Even Exist
To quote the ever-relevant Jane Austen, “My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.”
There are few ‘unforgivable’ sins in my book. Treating me like a doormat is pretty close to the top. I have feelings too, buster. Don’t be all flip-floppy on me. I actually exist, and your briefest acknowledgment of that existence would be much appreciated. I’m glad I meant oh-so much, like you said. I meant so much that it was that easy to just drop me like a piece of broccoli. Thank you very much.
