And don’t let anyone tell you different. Who you are is a hero to someone. You lead your story, and you can control that story. Who you are is special, strong, creative and great. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Family members don’t know you better than you know you. Lies don’t get to tell you your worth. Your friends don’t get to decide your worth for you and neither do strangers on the subway. Continue reading →
When gift giving is a joy and not a burden, I know I’m in a good place.
I’ve found I show love best by giving presents. Much to my bank accounts despair, I adore spending money on the people I love. A random bouquet of flowers to show my friends I’m proud of them, a mug referencing our favorite TV show to congratulate them, the pair of leggings they’ve wanted for months to say ‘happy birthday, go on a run.’
If you hate spending money on ‘useless’ presents, don’t think this blog is calling you out. Gift giving is not how everyone shows love, anyways. You may show love through spending time with people, serving them, or just simple words of affirmation, all of which are completely valid. I, on the other hand, give gifts to tell someone I admire them.
It was almost 10:30. I’d been driving for hours, 13 hours go be exact, when the sky started to sparkle. One after another sparks of color shot into the sky and exploded in a puff of glittering light. I was enamored.
I watched the fireworks, eyes drifting from the road. They were so… random. It was the beginning of march, no date the world was celebrating. No reason to use such an extravagant form of celebration.
I watched them in the distance sparkle, shout, and explode. I had to reach them soon, right? I was driving towards them. They had to come from somewhere.
We live in a world of fictional creatures. Fairies, mermaids, dragons, and mothers.
From a young age we discover these mysterious, all powerful creatures, our imaginations suddenly in a metaphorical ball pit of perfection and endless possibilities.
Any time I was in a pool I instantly became a mermaid. My tail was gold and blue and my hair matched with a stark, sparkling blue hue. I kicked through the “ocean” on a “first priority” mission given to me by the king of the ocean (who also happened to be my father.) Continue reading →
The way I see it is there are three types of “inbox exs”.
The lonely inbox ex. He probably wants to hookup or even get back together. He realizes he lost something great and now regrets his life. He also can’t get any other girl to smile at him so he’s feeling small and lonely. It’s sad.
The angry inbox ex. He’s victimized himself, made you a “b*txh*, and told all his pickup truck friends that HE broke up with YOU. In his message, he makes use of all the curse words he’s learned in his however many years on earth and let all his “feminazi” frustration out on you. It’s also sad.
The apologetic inbox ex. He’s moved on, realized though you may have damaged his pride, he may also have hurt you. He has a new girlfriend but his conscience is keeping him up at night. He’s in your inbox to make amends. This one is no longer sad.
The first thing she ever said to me was a lie. Lying was her oxygen. It’s how she survived every day. It’s how she took breath and ate her food and walked down the street and drove her car. It’s the only thing that made her feel safe. Putting up a wall the rest of the world couldn’t climb. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Lying. I understood, I guess. But I needed to know who she really was. I needed to get inside that head of hers. I needed to be a part of her life. But she didn’t have people in her life. She had passing faces and passing names that she probably won’t remember in two days time. But I needed to be there. So I came up with a plan. I wanted to know who she really was. I wanted to know what was the real face behind that mask. I wanted to know if she was even wearing a mask. I want to know why she was running and what or whom she was running from. Continue reading →