Wins and Losses

We're all going to die, so why the hell am I so afraid of it?

In ninth grade, I thought I wanted to die. I knew how I wanted to do it, I knew when I wanted it to happen, and I thought that maybe I would finally be happy, away from mean girls and overbearing parents and a stifling community.

Sometimes, I wish I had done it.

But sometimes, I'm happy they stopped me.

Because I'm not finished yet- one more year, that's all. One more year of high school and then I'm free.

If I had died two years ago, I never would've learned as much as I have since then. I'd be sleeping forever- which doesn't sound so bad when I'm waking up early every morning, but at least I'm alive. I can go to school and I can have a future and I can laugh and cry and live, just because I didn't open that bottle of pills. High school doesn't last forever. Neither did middle school, even though it felt like it would. And the older I've gotten. the more I've realized that nothing lasts forever. I don't talk to those mean girls anymore, and they don't talk to me. My parents are still overbearing, very much so, but I can deal with it. One more year, right? And the community is just as stifling, but next year at this time, I'll almost be finished.

If I had died, I never would've met him.

I never would've known that, hey, maybe there's a chance for me, after all.

I never would've met some of the best people I know, and I never would've taken the best classes I've gotten to be in, and I never would've known that even though I'm sad, I can still be so happy.

I never would've known that that my parents got divorced, and that even though I still cry about it, and even though I can't decide where to live and who to live with, I'm okay. We're okay.

And for the first time in a while, I'm looking forward to things. I'm looking forward to Hawaii, and the cruise, and senior year, and everything that's going to come after that. Because I'm afraid, sure, but I'm not going to let that stop me. That's a pretty big win, in my book, even after so many losses.

afraid

when i was little, i was afraid of the dark.

i was afraid of tattoos and snakes and that someday, i'd have to grow up and move out and be by myself.

i'm still afraid of the dark, but now, i'm not afraid of growing up- i'm afraid of how much longer it will be until i can finally leave.

i'm seventeen years old now, and i'm scared of change.

i'm afraid that everything will change, but i'm even more afraid that nothing ever will.

i'm afraid of roller coasters that go upside down, and of tall boys with cute smiles who are everything i told myself i'd never want. i'm afraid of lower-case letters, thanks to the american schooling system, and that's basically why this entire post is lowercase. have to face at least some of my fears somehow, right?

i'm afraid of being alone. i'm afraid that the way i feel right now, with no boyfriend and no huge group of friends and nobody to eat lunch with- i'm afraid that this is the way i'll be forever. because i love cats, but not enough that i want to be single and alone in my later years with only a nursing degree and twenty cats to keep me company.

i'm afraid of myself.

i'm afraid of what i can do, and i'm afraid of what i can't.

i'm afraid of what i want, and i'm afraid i won't be able to get it. i'm afraid of the world, because if there's suicide bombers in Europe, how long is it going to take until they're here? how long until it's my missionary that's in the hospital, or my family, or my friends? how long?

THERE'S SO MUCH TO BE AFRAID OF

but why would i let that stop me?

Maybe I Am a Robot

I always post on Sundays. It's not because I'm trying to procrastinate, of course, but every Sunday night as I'm getting into bed, the thought of my blog and my grade and my unwritten post is always lingering in my mind.

So, here I am. Better late than never, right?

I have a routine. Like it or not, Sunday night posts have become part of my routine.

I've been alive for 6,221 days.
149,304 hours.
8,598,240 minutes.
537,494,400 seconds.

And almost every single one of those days, at least recently, is the same.

I wake up at the same time. I get ready, not sure who I'm trying to impress. (Everybody, nobody, myself). And I go to school, and I waste away seven hours of my life memorizing formulas and writing research papers that will never benefit me in the future. After school, I usually go to work, where I waste away another eight hours, just pretending that I know what I'm doing. If I'm not at work, I'm at home, attempting my homework and again, pretending that I know what I'm doing. (I don't).

Doesn't that sound like a robot to you?

What if I don't want to be like that?

What if I want to be spontaneous?

High school doesn't like spontaneity. High school likes rules and disclosures and Scantron tests with number two pencils.

But, me? I like surprises. I like sneaking out and going on adventures and making my life just a little bit more exciting.

(I really hope I won't be a robot forever).

how to take a risk

This.