Jump (Then Fall)

3 months ago I had this very, very brief thing with this guy, and I never wrote about it publicly until it was over. Except I did write about it, and it’s been sitting in my drafts. I went back to it and was going to delete it, because it’s now irrelevant. But then I realized that that’s what makes it so important.

This is an example of how quickly feelings can change, of how wrong you can be about someone. How even the smartest girls can get all wrapped up like this.

The only saving grace is that now I know that this is possible – unlikely, but possible. Stupidity is awful, but it’s also fun while it lasts. Every girl deserves a little fun now and again, something that I had been sorely lacking. And I’m okay. I didn’t fall in love. And I’ve been through worse.

This post will probably make you want to punch yourself in the face, it’s so adorable. And it makes me want to punch myself in the face too for different reasons, because he didn’t jump, he didn’t understand, and we didn’t make it through those hard conversations. Continue reading

Learning to Let Go

It occurred to me recently that I actually have no idea who I am right now.

I USED to have a fantastic sense of who I was, so much so that I refused to deviate from the path that I (and others) had set out for me. Please, I could never be a leader, I could never write anything halfway decently, and I can’t wear crop tops because my boobs are too small and I can’t wear tiny shorts because I have too much leg hair and it takes forever in the morning to shave, I can’t get good grades in university, I can’t make new friends, I could never be interested in anyone else. And on and on the list goes.

This sounds bad, but it isn’t really. I loved my old life. I did. I’m still sad and heartbroken that it’s over. But let’s face it, that path isn’t working for me anymore, and it’s not working for anyone else involved either. Who knows why, but the reasons aren’t really important – it is what it is. Now what do I do?

I’ve been asking myself that question for the past 4 months. I thought this was going to be the summer that we learned how to hold on to what we had, as much as possible, but it turned out to be the summer that I learned to let go. It became apparent before summer even technically started that that was what I was going to have to do, I just refused to see it. I did, I always do at one point or another, but that’s a shitty feeling, so I choose not to feel that way. I choose to try to make it better. Every time. And it works for a while. But not for long enough. People tell me that I’m bad at choosing to be happy, to change my thoughts, etc. but that’s not true – I’m actually really GOOD at that. When I want to be. Too good. I can believe that I have a chance when I don’t. I can see love where it doesn’t exist.

Last year I let this ruin my ENTIRE summer, almost. And it nearly ruined this one, too. But right at the end I decided – not this time. I’m reclaiming these last 3 weeks. I’m just gonna do me.

But wait – who is me?

Who AM I when I walk away from someone I love? Who am I when I stop trying? Trying is my LIFE. I’m the girl who tries way too hard, who puts everything into people she loves. And I’m weirdly proud of that.

Now I’m someone else. I don’t know who yet.

But does that have to be quite as scary as I’ve been making it seem? Not really. It can be exciting if you’re optimistic about it. It can be great, if I’m as passionate about finding NEW things and people to be passionate about as I was about my old life.

And I’ve already made some progress. I have Active Minds, which is my child, and I’m in my last year of school, so as a reward/experiment I’m taking a creative writing class. I have my internship, which is over now but it was still cool. I’m going to start blogging for them and hopefully stay connected (spoiler alert – I might be getting a job. Like one where I get paid). I have new friends and they’re awesome, even if one of them is going to Ireland for 6 million years (CHARLOTTE) and some of them are leaving the country permanently in a few months. I’m oddly invested in Taylor Swift and Marianas Trench, who both have new albums coming out this fall (THE STARS HAVE ALIGNED, FINALLY), which is awesome. TV shows are starting up again. I am also oddly invested in those. I have cats and cute clothes and cute hair and cute shoes and cute handbags and a new chair. I got a new high score the last time I played 2048.

So maybe these are steps in the right direction, even if it’s not the final destination. And although they may seem unimportant, a lot of little steps can add up to a pretty substantial leap. I have to convince myself that those things, like work and school, are not just “important” or “necessary” but meaningful. Just as meaningful as the things I had before. I have to stop telling myself that everything is superficial and won’t lead me to true happiness. Probably not, not on their own, but maybe this is just the beginning. I doubt that my new dress is going keep me warm at night, but maybe it will make me feel more confident the next time I’m with someone I like. Maybe they’ll lead me to finding even more good things – like a yellow brick road leading me on a winding journey to Oz.

So let’s see what happens. The next chapter starts now.

And we were dancing, dancing
Like we’re made of starlight, starlight
Like we dream impossible dreams
Don’t you see the starlight, starlight?
Don’t you dream impossible things?
-Taylor Swift

One Year Later

It was this time last year that I restarted this blog (August 1st to be exact). Not on WordPress, of course, but in its original form on Tumblr as what is now known as Bird & Cage. I felt broken. I spent way too much time in my bedroom alone, sweating in the humidity and binge watching Modern Family. I sat around and did that and sometimes I would amuse myself by driving to the mall, or Target, or the grocery store. And it was at this time that I first discovered that writing helped. It didn’t really make me feel less alone, like it does now, but it made me feel like I was being productive, and not just a sad loser living at her parents’ house.

I didn’t start with the blog; I started with an article that simply attempted to tell my story in some sort of linear manner, which later became the article I published in The Varsity (which I still do not love). I never would have thought to do this if my friend hadn’t randomly told me that I was a good writer, apropos of nothing (given that I hadn’t written anything in years, other than cards and emails and notes that were all essentially love letters). There was never some sort of hidden drive that I felt within myself to be a writer. It was just something that people told me I should do, or assumed I already did, because I’m an English major. But I started that article, and at the time I was in love with my first couple of drafts. My counsellor at the time pointed out that my face lit up when I talked about it, and I was super embarrassed but now I’m not – passion is a good thing.

When the article was done, I was bored. I wanted to write something else but I didn’t know what. And I remembered that I had a blog when I was in first year that I never knew what to do with. I still didn’t know what to do with it, but it was something. I asked my friend again what he thought. He’d admitted to reading my old blog back in the day, as a way to see what I was doing I suppose, since we were no longer in contact at that time, so I knew that he would be a good judge. He said go for it. I didn’t think I’d keep it up – maybe only for 2 or 3 months at best, like the first time. But it’s a year later now and I’m still going strong. That is incredible to me, because I don’t stick with ANYTHING. Now I actually sort of have a hobby. What can I say, I can only write what I know (also the reason why I still don’t consider myself a “real” writer). It took me a couple of months to figure out what I wanted this to be, and I still feel like it’s shifting but I have a voice now. Continue reading