Have you ever fallen in love?
Like, not stupid 2 week relationship and I'm so in love with him crap.
I mean truly deeply in love.
Where you wake up in the morning with a smile on your face and you see yourself marrying him (or her) and you just know that with all your heart, they are it. Or even when you wake up in the morning still crying from whatever is bothering you but you still know they are it. You're in love. Nothing else matters.
Now really, have you ever fallen in love?
I used to think love meant life was perfect.
Like, I'm in love so now life can go perfectly and I'll be a cute housewife and have the most amazing children with the guy I love and nothing will ever go wrong.
Until I actually loved.
I began to realize that I can sit here and love someone with my entire heart, but that doesn't make life perfect. That doesn't make me magically happy.
See, love doesn't fix things.
On the contrary, it can make things a lot more difficult.
Because suddenly you love another person. Suddenly you care about everything that happens to them. Suddenly you aren't just taking care of yourself, you're responsible, or at least you feel responsible, for another person.
We don't love perfect people. Perfect people don't exist.
We love flawed people. People who will hurt us. People who are broken. People with colorful pasts. People with hidden secrets. People with mental illnesses. People who are just like you.
I think, sometimes we get so caught up in finding the perfect person that we forget that once we find them, they have flaws. And then we get disappointed and they get disappointed and it's messy and people get their feelings hurt.
But, you know, we work through that. Because we love them.
One day I woke up, and love was gone.
Love was no longer tapping at my window, waking me up for another beautiful day.
And for a long time, I was mad and sad and angry and helpless and... a bunch of other negative words.
I was in love. It was supposed to work. I was supposed to be getting married and being a cute little housewife with cute little children and a cute little home. And I couldn't understand why love left me.
But over months and months of crying and praying and over analyzing everything, I figured some things out.
Loving someone doesn't make them stay.
Loving someone doesn't make you stay either.
I think we like the idea of the person being the perfect person for you.
I mean, what can be better than finding that one person who just... gets you? That person that laughs with you and makes you laugh and holds you when you're upset and loves you more than anything and says all the right things...
And maybe they are the perfect person for you.
But maybe they are just the perfect person for you at that time.
I've loved lots of people through my life. Friends, boyfriends, family. But they aren't all here anymore.
I have had some amazing best friends that I thought would never leave, but they aren't here anymore.
I needed them more than anything at the time. They were the perfect best friends for me. But they left. And now I have the perfect best friends for me for this time.
I guess, my point is that love comes and goes.
We will lose people we love.
And it will hurt.
But it's not the end.
There is someone else who will be perfect for you at a different time.
And when they come along, see their flaws, love them, accept them. And accept and love that life will not be perfect with them.
But that doesn't mean you can't love them perfectly.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thank you, Thank you.
I stare out at the lights.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Ease on the breaks. Roll down the hill slowly.
I stare out at the lights.
As if they were made for me, I pray. "Thank you, thank you."
As if they are mine. As if my soul belongs to them. As if the entire world was created around this moment.
I stare out at the lights.
Breathe in. Breathe out. "Thank you, thank you."
Breathe in. Breathe out. Ease on the breaks. Roll down the hill slowly.
I stare out at the lights.
As if they were made for me, I pray. "Thank you, thank you."
As if they are mine. As if my soul belongs to them. As if the entire world was created around this moment.
I stare out at the lights.
Breathe in. Breathe out. "Thank you, thank you."
Saturday, November 19, 2011
How to look forward.
I've been thinking about the past. Which, you know, isn't weird for me.
I write about it all the time, and recently I've started to notice how much I talk about it.
See, I started using 750 words. Which is, basically, a website based on just writing 750 words a day about anything at all, every day. Which is why this blog has been lacking. I've been busy on tumblr and with friends and with school and with 750 words. But anyway, back to the point, it keeps stats on what your posts are about. It's totally private but it looks for key words and such to tell you what your mood of your writing was that day and everything. It's super interesting and eye opening. And I found that I talk about the past a lot more than I realized.
And it's been bothering me.
Actually, a LOT of things have been bothering me lately.
But mostly this.
Because I want to move on. Why haven't I moved on? Why does it seem to come up in every conversation?
I was walking out of creative writing yesterday after a discussion on what to do when we get stuck in our writing when I got a song stuck in my head from A Very Potter Sequel.
"There is literally NO way we can move forward from this point."
"But if we can't move forward, why shouldn't we move back?"
So this song is stuck in my head. And I was thinking about how with writing, when we get super stuck, it's sometimes because something in our story has gone totally wrong and part of us knows that we need to fix that because the story can't move forward from that point.
And THEN I realized that's exactly what I've been doing.
Part of me (and by part I mean most) feels like I can't move forward from this point.
And I feel comfortable going back and looking at the past all the time.
There's all these little things that I would go back and correct if I could, just to make my story flow better now.
But that's where life gets different than writing. We aren't granted that option to go back and fix those minor details that could change everything.
And this is the moment where you have to realize that your past is here to stay.
Maybe you really will talk about it all the time. But I don't think that means you are holding yourself back. I think it means that you recognize that it's a huge part of you. And that there are still lessons to be learned from them. And that you already have learned so much from them, things you probably need to share with someone at some point.
We need each other so bad.
We need each other's pasts.
Stop trying to fix your imperfect past. And stop pretending that it never existed.
Because only from the past can we learn about the future.
I write about it all the time, and recently I've started to notice how much I talk about it.
See, I started using 750 words. Which is, basically, a website based on just writing 750 words a day about anything at all, every day. Which is why this blog has been lacking. I've been busy on tumblr and with friends and with school and with 750 words. But anyway, back to the point, it keeps stats on what your posts are about. It's totally private but it looks for key words and such to tell you what your mood of your writing was that day and everything. It's super interesting and eye opening. And I found that I talk about the past a lot more than I realized.
And it's been bothering me.
Actually, a LOT of things have been bothering me lately.
But mostly this.
Because I want to move on. Why haven't I moved on? Why does it seem to come up in every conversation?
I was walking out of creative writing yesterday after a discussion on what to do when we get stuck in our writing when I got a song stuck in my head from A Very Potter Sequel.
"There is literally NO way we can move forward from this point."
"But if we can't move forward, why shouldn't we move back?"
So this song is stuck in my head. And I was thinking about how with writing, when we get super stuck, it's sometimes because something in our story has gone totally wrong and part of us knows that we need to fix that because the story can't move forward from that point.
And THEN I realized that's exactly what I've been doing.
Part of me (and by part I mean most) feels like I can't move forward from this point.
And I feel comfortable going back and looking at the past all the time.
There's all these little things that I would go back and correct if I could, just to make my story flow better now.
But that's where life gets different than writing. We aren't granted that option to go back and fix those minor details that could change everything.
And this is the moment where you have to realize that your past is here to stay.
Maybe you really will talk about it all the time. But I don't think that means you are holding yourself back. I think it means that you recognize that it's a huge part of you. And that there are still lessons to be learned from them. And that you already have learned so much from them, things you probably need to share with someone at some point.
We need each other so bad.
We need each other's pasts.
Stop trying to fix your imperfect past. And stop pretending that it never existed.
Because only from the past can we learn about the future.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
How to live happily ever after.
Once upon a time,
There was a girl who fell so madly, deeply in love that nothing else seemed to matter.
She got a nice little job and was working on an education in words. She started to plan her future around this little life she had started fresh out of high school.
She was going to read 200 books and then get married in the Idaho Falls Temple. Then she would work on her first novel for 2 years and once its published, she would have her first child. She would name him Zelph. She thought maybe moving to Idaho Falls one day would be a good idea too, she liked the idea of being close to family. She would raise her cute little family and bring a few more children in to the world and they'd be happy.
She would visit the temple weekly and live in the most adorable neighborhood with her friends.
Her book would be a best seller and they would get loads of money but so much of it would go to service that they would continue working anyway. Her husband was going to be a fabulous worker.
She was going to love him with all her heart.
As years go by, she would write another book from the experiences she has gained. And this book would be an even greater success. She would change the world with this book. And if not the world, at least a few people. And it would be so great. She would live happily and comfortably.
And then she would grow old with her husband. And then die happy surrounded by family.
It was a nice little plan.
She grew fond of it and found herself altering little bits and pieces of it while she was working. Smiling while she thought of her future.
Then things started to fall apart. Just a little bit at a time.
She got sad.
Her dreams lost their appeal.
Or maybe they never lost their appeal really, she just had fallen down on the path and didn't feel like getting back up to walk to them.
And then her love failed her.
She couldn't love enough. Or, maybe it was never that it wasn't enough, but that the quality was lacking.
So her plan fell apart.
After a few months of being a depressed and quiet and quite frankly miserable to be around, she started to figure things out again. Plan things with other people. Plan things with herself.
She decided then to be so famous that she would buy everyone at work a swimming pool. She would adopt some African children and give them a good life. and then in a few years, she would buy a husband from Russia.
It was a nice little plan.
And she got happy again.
She started to realize that although she may never fall out of love with someone, she could live a life without them. No one was stopping her. She could be happy.
There were hard days, no doubt.
Some days she would wake up and realize how hard it was to breathe. Some days she would lay in bed and stare at the black ceiling and feel 100% alone. Some days she would drive home and beg for God to hear her just once, finally.
But some days were so beautiful that she couldn't even believe it.
Some days she would spend hours in a parking lot talking to a friend. Some days she would spend time watching movies and making inside jokes with friends. Some days she would write something her teacher would tell her is amazing.
Some days, alot of days, she realized life goes on perfectly.
And some days she realized God hears prayers and, on his own time, fixes everything.
And some days she realized that this is how life is always going to be. And it's always going to end up okay.
So she now plans on studying abroad and meeting a spanish guy that looks like Antonio Banderas and having cute spanish children. And writing a book that will change everything. And living her life 100% finally.
And realizing, every single day, that it's going to be okay.
Life is going to be okay.
And she lives happily ever after.
There was a girl who fell so madly, deeply in love that nothing else seemed to matter.
She got a nice little job and was working on an education in words. She started to plan her future around this little life she had started fresh out of high school.
She was going to read 200 books and then get married in the Idaho Falls Temple. Then she would work on her first novel for 2 years and once its published, she would have her first child. She would name him Zelph. She thought maybe moving to Idaho Falls one day would be a good idea too, she liked the idea of being close to family. She would raise her cute little family and bring a few more children in to the world and they'd be happy.
She would visit the temple weekly and live in the most adorable neighborhood with her friends.
Her book would be a best seller and they would get loads of money but so much of it would go to service that they would continue working anyway. Her husband was going to be a fabulous worker.
She was going to love him with all her heart.
As years go by, she would write another book from the experiences she has gained. And this book would be an even greater success. She would change the world with this book. And if not the world, at least a few people. And it would be so great. She would live happily and comfortably.
And then she would grow old with her husband. And then die happy surrounded by family.
It was a nice little plan.
She grew fond of it and found herself altering little bits and pieces of it while she was working. Smiling while she thought of her future.
Then things started to fall apart. Just a little bit at a time.
She got sad.
Her dreams lost their appeal.
Or maybe they never lost their appeal really, she just had fallen down on the path and didn't feel like getting back up to walk to them.
And then her love failed her.
She couldn't love enough. Or, maybe it was never that it wasn't enough, but that the quality was lacking.
So her plan fell apart.
After a few months of being a depressed and quiet and quite frankly miserable to be around, she started to figure things out again. Plan things with other people. Plan things with herself.
She decided then to be so famous that she would buy everyone at work a swimming pool. She would adopt some African children and give them a good life. and then in a few years, she would buy a husband from Russia.
It was a nice little plan.
And she got happy again.
She started to realize that although she may never fall out of love with someone, she could live a life without them. No one was stopping her. She could be happy.
There were hard days, no doubt.
Some days she would wake up and realize how hard it was to breathe. Some days she would lay in bed and stare at the black ceiling and feel 100% alone. Some days she would drive home and beg for God to hear her just once, finally.
But some days were so beautiful that she couldn't even believe it.
Some days she would spend hours in a parking lot talking to a friend. Some days she would spend time watching movies and making inside jokes with friends. Some days she would write something her teacher would tell her is amazing.
Some days, alot of days, she realized life goes on perfectly.
And some days she realized God hears prayers and, on his own time, fixes everything.
And some days she realized that this is how life is always going to be. And it's always going to end up okay.
So she now plans on studying abroad and meeting a spanish guy that looks like Antonio Banderas and having cute spanish children. And writing a book that will change everything. And living her life 100% finally.
And realizing, every single day, that it's going to be okay.
Life is going to be okay.
And she lives happily ever after.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
How to be happy (Nyquil Edition)
I took a trip down memory lane tonight.
I think it was the Nyquil.
It reminded me of bus trips. And broken sun glasses. And biting things. And porn that smells like home depot. And that boy.
Which led to me remembering April 15th.
Which led to me remembering The Format. Which reminded me of sitting on my bed playing Sims 2 all day all summer. Which reminded me of what it was like to not have a job. Which reminded me of why I got the job I have now. Which reminded me of another boy.
Which led me to remember....
A lot of things.
Which led me to remember February 5th. And sitting in the institute building. And wanting to kiss that beautiful man. Which reminded me of my friends.
Which took me back to Just Dance 2. And Butterburrs. And British penises. And Scream. Which reminded me of another boy.
Which reminded me of the park. And then The Office. And then fighting. Which reminded me of everything that's happened lately.
Nyquil does weird things to me.
I suppose I should have some awesome "and I realized that..." moment here. Where I realize something great out of all of this stuff I've posted.
Maybe it's that I'm so happy that I can look back and see how things get bad but never stay that way...It's always good then bad but then good again. That's a plus, right?
I live an average life.
I can't remember my life and think it's been bad. Not even close. But I can't look at it and be like "I've lived such an awesome life!"
I've lived averagely.
I'm not sad.
I'm not excruciatingly happy.
I'm just happy.
I mean, I see all these bad things happening sometimes, but I'm alive. I breathe every day. I'm healthy. I have fabulous friends. I'm surrounded by amazing people. I work with some of the best women I have ever met. I've been allowed to experience some amazing relationships, even though they didn't last. I have a great family. I am getting a wonderful education in something I LOVE doing.
So yes, Bad things happen.
Life is hard sometimes.
Sometimes you have to take Nyquil and end up licking your friends hair in pictures that are now on Facebook for the whole world to see.
Sometimes you have to realize you are never going to kiss the beautiful man in your institute class.
Sometimes thunder just strikes. (I had to have a Scream reference somewhere...)
But life is beautiful enough to leave me happy.
Happy.
This post brought to you by Nyquil.
I think it was the Nyquil.
It reminded me of bus trips. And broken sun glasses. And biting things. And porn that smells like home depot. And that boy.
Which led to me remembering April 15th.
Which led to me remembering The Format. Which reminded me of sitting on my bed playing Sims 2 all day all summer. Which reminded me of what it was like to not have a job. Which reminded me of why I got the job I have now. Which reminded me of another boy.
Which led me to remember....
A lot of things.
Which led me to remember February 5th. And sitting in the institute building. And wanting to kiss that beautiful man. Which reminded me of my friends.
Which took me back to Just Dance 2. And Butterburrs. And British penises. And Scream. Which reminded me of another boy.
Which reminded me of the park. And then The Office. And then fighting. Which reminded me of everything that's happened lately.
Nyquil does weird things to me.
I suppose I should have some awesome "and I realized that..." moment here. Where I realize something great out of all of this stuff I've posted.
Maybe it's that I'm so happy that I can look back and see how things get bad but never stay that way...It's always good then bad but then good again. That's a plus, right?
I live an average life.
I can't remember my life and think it's been bad. Not even close. But I can't look at it and be like "I've lived such an awesome life!"
I've lived averagely.
I'm not sad.
I'm not excruciatingly happy.
I'm just happy.
I mean, I see all these bad things happening sometimes, but I'm alive. I breathe every day. I'm healthy. I have fabulous friends. I'm surrounded by amazing people. I work with some of the best women I have ever met. I've been allowed to experience some amazing relationships, even though they didn't last. I have a great family. I am getting a wonderful education in something I LOVE doing.
So yes, Bad things happen.
Life is hard sometimes.
Sometimes you have to take Nyquil and end up licking your friends hair in pictures that are now on Facebook for the whole world to see.
Sometimes you have to realize you are never going to kiss the beautiful man in your institute class.
Sometimes thunder just strikes. (I had to have a Scream reference somewhere...)
But life is beautiful enough to leave me happy.
Happy.
This post brought to you by Nyquil.
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