Thursday, August 30, 2012

Mixed Feelings

Packing to go home is one of the weirdest-feeling things I've ever done.

I've been counting down the days ever since I got here. I've been crossing off days on my calendar. I've been changing the banner on my phone every day. I've been talking about it on the phone, and texting about it. The prospect of going home is what's kept me going.

Now, it's tomorrow. I'm going home tomorrow.

And I feel terrible.

I don't even understand what the problem is. I know I'm happy somewhere inside. I know I'm still excited. I know I still want to go home.

But instead of feeling ecstatic, I feel a little frustrated. I just stopped hating it here. I just made a few friends. I just started learning how to study. I just got into watching soccer.

Then at the same time, I don't feel very good about myself physically right now. I've been stressed, so I'm breaking out. And I'm afraid "freshman fifteen" is no joke. I've been snacking a lot, and I feel sort of disgusting. I went to the gym...once. My rooommate is reeeeally skinny and goregous and perfect, and being around her all the time makes me feel incredibly...not those things.

So I sort of don't want to go home. I'm getting used to it here and I don't want to screw that up, and I don't want people to see me because I feel like I've physically changed for the worse. It makes me frustrated and unhappy.

So yeah.

Apparently I just screw myself over. I can't ever be happy XD


P.S. My three-hour English class also went horribly. So that's not helping.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Friends, and Other Scattered Thoughts

Today I studied from 1:30pm to 9pm, with a break for dinner and a break for Wal-Mart. I did not finish what I set out to finish, but I'm calling it a freaking night. I have a quiz tomorrow in Western Civilization. We'll see if I need to be hardcore about this whole reading thing, or if I can lighten up.


I haven't really made friends yet, not that I've been trying much. I've kind of made three girl friends, and like two half-friends with guys.

Hollin - A friend of Emily's, who seems really cool. Dunno how she feels about me.

Raven - A friend of Kirsten's, who's fine. I mostly just know who she is.

Taylor (girl) - A girl on the first floor of my dorm. She's the only legitimate friend, really. I actually became friends her with all on my own, no connections. I like her a lot, but we haven't talked since like Tuesday.

Anthony - I like Anthony. He's nice, normal, Christian, writes, plays drums. I think he's the kind of safe, non-man-whore friend I'd like to have. But I haven't seen him since Tuesday either.

Brenden - The guy Rebekah grinded on at the Blacklight Dance. He talks to me sometimes, mostly just uses me to get to Rebekah. He's asked what my name is six times and still introduced me to someone as "Rebekah's friend." I kind of hate him a little bit.

I would like to make some really good friends. But I've forgotten how to make friends. I've never really HAD to make friends before. It's always been obvious and easy. I've pretty much had friends handed to me left and right my whole life.

Also, as much as I really do like Rebekah, I need some space. I can't make friends when she intercepts them all unintentionally.

I also need not to be so swamped in studying before I can make friends, because Stressed-Out Stephanie isn't all that charismatic.

Mom says I'll find the rhythm, that I won't always have to study so much. I'm not sure I buy that.

Dance try-outs are Tuesday. I'm planning to try out, not planning to make it. I'm not even sure if I WANT to. I have to study a lot, and if the dance team schedule is really intense, it might get in the way of going home. And that would not be okay with me.


Saturday, August 25, 2012

What Hurts the Most

You know what I miss the most?

The bad days.

Days when I would seethe in my room, clenching back angry tears and roaring for the day I could leave.

I miss getting into the green Honda, slamming the door and jerking too quickly on the seat belt. I miss him looking expectantly at me, that hint of amusement in his teal eyes, and me saying,

"It's just been one of those days. Let's go."

And he'd turn on P.O.D.'s "Kaliforn-Eye-A." The guitar riff came to mean driving off, fast. It meant my day was about to improve drastically. The riff meant we could do whatever we wanted. We were driving away together, and for at least a few hours, I would smile and love my life.

"Kaliforn-Eye-A" is what I miss the most, and what it meant. What hurts the most is knowing that I won't ever have nights like that again, when I come out of my house angry and just get into his car.

That makes me cry. That thought, that tiny collection of memories, is what absolutely undoes me.


Thursday, August 23, 2012

First Meeting

Today was a collection of experiences. I had my first college quiz, which {I THINK} went okay. Would probably have been an A in highschool, I'm assuming a B in college.

Then I talked my my academic advisor about what to do for math. He suggested I take Math 160, which is statistics. Everything I've ever heard about statistics has been terrifying, so I cannot imagine that that's a good move for me. I'm trying to get in touch with the professor who teaches that class to get a better idea of how horrendous it would be.

If it sounds too horrendous, I'm just going to drop math altogether and add Spanish. I can handle Spanish. I LIKE Spanish. Spanish likes me back.

I also checked my PO box for the first time :) Two notes from Mom, an adorable letter from Daddy, some cards from extended family with graduation money, and a card from Cassidy's Aunt Monya, who leads the church's College and Career Ministry.

Then I read Theater stuff. Easy read. Mostly skimmed. I might be screwed, but I think it's an easy course.


Which I think is going to be awesome :D The teacher is nice and funny. She spent the first, like, fifteen minutes of class trying to learn all our names and their spellings and making us learn each others' names too.

"Hear any potential baby names yet?" she asked us. "It's never too early to start that list."

And I was all Dude, I have that listttttt, in my head. I think I'm gonna love this lady.

She told us like ten stories about her life and experience teaching. They all concerned something not being what it first appeared, or the way she first percieved it.

Then she gave us a paper and told us to tell her a story about ourselves. She said she wanted to get to know us and our writing styles.

I blanked. I'm so bad at stuff like that when it's thrown at me without warning and not much time is given. I totally psych myself out.

I decided I'd try to stick with her theme of misjudging things or people. That couldn't be too hard; I'm infamous for my poor character-judgement skills.

Somehow, I still couldn't think of but example that I could write about. It went something like this.

{**EDIT** What I wrote for English Composition in 5 minutes' time was, in fact, almost nothing like this. But if I had had time, this is what I would have written.}

When I was in nineth grade, I had to take driver's ed like all other fifteen-year-olds. However, unlike other kids, I was home-schooled, so I had to find a school to take it at. I signed up for the class at a private school, and was actually kind of excited for the whole thing. It was a school experience; it was somewhere I could reinvent myself, or test out the current me in a different social environment.

When the first day of driver's ed came along, I was excited and nervous. I made up my mind to be outgoing and vibrant and try to conceal my nerd tendencies.

That worked pretty well. I made friends, people liked me, and I liked pretty much everyone, with the exception of a loud--although clever--redheaded boy. Other people liked the boy though. I noted him as being the kind of popular that everyone agrees on, even if he didn't have a ton of people hanging on him 24/7.

The driver's ed course was over in six weeks, and I never actually talked to the redheaded boy. However, after the last day of class, I had to wait around for my ride home. I went over by the athletic fields and chilled on the brick wall. Guess who walked by? The redheaded boy.

I had just deflated from a 6-hour shift of being perky and normal, but it looked like I was going to have to try for a little bit longer. I mean, he was popular, and I was trying to make an effort to fit in. It would be stupid of me to let the opportunity pass.

The boy didn't look at me, but he was walking by slowly enough that it wasn't weird for me to take a breath and call out, "Hey!"

He looked a little surprised.

"You probably don't remember me," I said. "But I'm in driver's ed with you."

"No, yeah," he said. He came over and sat on the brick wall, leaving space for at least five people to come sit between us. "I remember." His usual loud personality was definitely subdued. For those moments, he seemed completely average. I atributed that to his reluctance to talk to someone who wasn't actually popuplar.

"I'm Stephanie," I said.

"Sam," he said. I knew that. It was one of the, like, six names I knew in the class.

I don't remember what exactly we talked about. Probably baseball and soccer, since those were going on right beside of us on various fields. I do remember that the conversation was very brief and lacked awkwardness, until he abruptly said,

"I gotta go." He hopped off the brick wall and walked away.

Well. Bye.

I forgot about that exhange, until I saw him on Facebook and added him a couple of weeks later. I was new to Facebook and wanted friendssssss.

I was surprised again that he remembered me.

I was surprised again again when he sent me a message, saying he'd found my blog and liked it. He said I was weird--in a good way.

It took me like a year to realize that this guy was more than just a passing accquintance, that he was going to be a significant and awesome part of my life.

We became real friends, then best friends, then *coughhackchokesneeze*, then we became closer than ever, and now...

"Lulz. We're dating."

And that is the story of how Sam and I met XD


Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Blacklight Dance

Well. Hi. It'

I'm gonna talk about the Blacklight Dance at the end. I'd rather end on that note.

Today, I went to Theater, and I dislike it. The professor is tiny and mousy, albeit nice enough. We have "theater lab" 2 hours a week, a ton of tedious little assignments and regulations to keep track of. As far as I can tell, it's just gonna be a massive, irritating waste of time.

Western Civilization was a little more encouraging. I really like Professor Stanke {isn't that unfortunate?} and it's exactly the kind of course I can enjoy and be good at. It's not heavily focused on historic dates or memorizing facts; it focuses on the WHYs and HOWs of history. Awesome :D The homework--so far--doesn't seem too bad either.

Then I had math, which you all know I was dreading.

It turned out to be very different from what I expected. I think it might be worse. I almost cried in class, but the feeling of dry helplessness was too resigned for tears.

My professor is Chinese. He speaks with a heavy accent, doesn't actually finish half his sentences, and uses tons of math terms interchangably. He goes into detail on really obvious concepts, using tons of examples, and then flits around more confusing aspects of math, explaining things weirdly and not finishing his sentences.

I have no idea what the homework is, and nothing he mentioned in class is in the first chapter of our textbook.

I am going to call my mother as soon as possible and get her advice on what to do about this. There is an easier math class, and if at all possible, I plan to switch to it on Friday.

What a...I just...I can't even explain how I feel about the math class. It makes me feel a little bit better to know that it might not be 100% my fault that I hate the class. Like, I'm not just retarded this time, I have a foreign teacher.

{For the record, I like him a lot as a person. He's funny and nice and very interesting. But I cannot deal with him teaching me a subject I don't understand even when my MOTHER teaches it to me.}


Let's talk about the Blacklight Dance now XD {You can see why I didn't want to end on my academic woes.}

We waited in the long line to get in. I was pretty excited, Rebekah seemed nervous. I get the feeling she cares a little more about what people think than I do. {In a lot of ways, that's probably a good thing. I should care more sometimes.} She kept asking what I thought it would be like, and telling me that if a guy grabbed her, she was clinging to me.

All well and good. However, given the way she behaved with Ryan the Dickbag at the street fair, I did not think being grabbed by guys is as high on her hate list as it is on mine.

We finally got to the door and walked in. The room glowed darkly with ultraviolet light; neon wall and floor decorations smoothly pulsed with light. The bass in the loud music hummed in my chest and made my body come alive.

Dance. Dancing. Dances. They wake me up. They bring me to life.

At first, it was just a crowd of people afraid of to look stupid. I danced minimally, scoping things out and trying to analyze the best way to navigate the situation. Rebekah alternated between batting her eyelashes at tall guys and squeezing my elbow for "moral" support.

But then a guy came up behind her and grabbed her hips. She did not panic. She did not cling to me. She "danced" back on him XD {Quotation marks because I don't think grinding should actually count as dancing. Although if it did, she'd get an award. She's not shy about it. Personally, the whole concept makes the pit of my stomach feel ill. Call me immature, but I think it's just kind of disgusting.}

Unfortunately, I had to make my opinion known at some point, when a guy came up behind me and tried to initiate the same thing.

"Sorry. That's not really my thing," I told him, putting a little distance between us. He walked away upset, and I felt a little bit bad, because I saw his friends give him a hard time.

Rebekah gave me a disparaging look as she grinded on her guy.

"Just do it!" she said. "It's not my thing either!"

"Nope," I said.

The song ended and her grind buddy literally left before she could turn around and see his face. She has to ask me later if he was any cute.

"Why won't you dance?" she asked.

"It's really not my thing?" I told her. "And also Sam?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not like you're saying 'Date me!' to anyone."

Apparently you have sex with your clothes on first, and dating comes later nowadays.

But then things got better. Two guys came up to us and said they remembered us from a couple of nights ago. {I think they played Mafia with us. Er, I guess we really played with them.} Brenden was tall and sort of a cross between a football player and a surfer dude. Conner was shorter and less good-looking, but more original.

By that point, I had loosened up enough that I was actually having fun and felt like myself. Brenden and Conner seemed nice, and they expressed no desire to grind with us. Brenden danced like a dork on purpose, and kind of pulled it off. That gave me permission to break out many hilariously terrible dance moves of my own, like "Make the Pizza," "Mow the Lawn," and the Monkey.

Guess what?

Brenden and Conner loved that. They thought it was awesome. They started doing the moves too, and eventually the three of us were dancing all kinds of styles, some less stupid than others.

I attempted the robot, which was either somewhat successful, or fascinatingly awful. It must have been one of those, because people watched.

My confidence skyrocketed. No matter what ridiculous thing I did, Brenden, Conner, Seth {new guy} and Rebekah thought it was great.

We tried to get Rebekah to loosen up and dance like a dork, but she just kept saying she couldn't dance.

I had progressively more and more fun and got more and more comfortable with myself.

I went around and learned dances that different people were doing, including some weird hardcore-type thing Connor showed me.

I did this backbend thing where I lean back really far and my head almost touches the ground, then I straighten back up. I hadn't ever thought that was especially cool, but when I did it a little bit, like six people around me were like, "OHHHHHH!" So I did it a couple more times, going back farther each time.

A guy with long blonde hair was like, "Can you touch your head to the ground?" I shrugged. He told me to try, that he wouldn't let me fall over. {Honestly, that's not a problem. I'd go to my knees before I'd actually fall.} So I attempted it. My head did graze the ground, but then I sank to my knees. A gazillion hands helped me up.

Brenden, Rebekah, Connor and I created our own dancing circle. Two black guys and a black girl joined it and taught me the Dougie. Then they tried to do my "Low" dance {it's hard to explain; Cassidy--and maybe Sam--will know what it is} XD It was funny.

Towards the end of the dance, Rebekah and Brenden ended up grinding after all. Connor asked me to do the hardcore-spazzing dance in the middle of the room, where people were showing off their skills. I said sure, so we broke into the cirlce of awesome African-American dancers and went crazy XD They all OHHHH'd and cheered, so I went ahead and did my "Low" dance and the backbend.

People went crazy :3

Guys, I know this has sounded like a whole lot of bragging. But I'm just really shocked and happy to be so incredibly accepted. Not just accepted, but LIKED. Liked a significant amount. I've never had the guts to go all-out before. For some reason, last night I just decided to go for it, and it turned into one of the funnest nights of my life.

Although, so many things reminded me of Sam and Cass, sometimes so much that I was hard for me to breathe and I felt like crying. The palms of my hands are cut up from where my nails dig into them when I try not to be emotional. I wish they were here with me.

Right now, I'm going to tackle some more National Government reading, because it's due tomorrow, and I have a test.

Back to being stressed-out. *sigh*


Tuesday, August 21, 2012

First Day of Classes


So, today was pretty good.

And by "pretty good," I mean "great, but I'm afraid to open myself up to optimism" XD

I woke up at 8 and finished some journaling that was hanging over my head. The beach trip with Sam and his family is finally properly documented, leaving my brain room to store and process all the new college stuff that's happening now.

I ate yogurt in my room for breakfast, and did a lot of nothing until lunch in the dining hall, then my 12:30-1:50 National Government class.

That went actually pretty great. My professor's name is Dr. Thornton. He seems very nice, easy to listen to and not difficult to understand. I think he'll be the right amount of demanding/strict. He also happens to be my academic advisor, so after class, I went up and shook his hand and introduced myself XD I'm not usually a suck-up, but I figure every little bit helps in this situation.

Having to "read chapters 1 and 2" for homework didn't sound terrible, but then I got back to my dorm room, and that's 45 large pages to read, process, and be ready to take a quiz on by Thursday.

I'm confident that I can do it, but I don't think I'll have a social life at ALL once I get the homework load for my other classes.

To be honest, I don't care about a social life, but it's supposed to be important. I'm supposed to get plugged in and make friends and junk.

Maybe studying will be an excuse to be a recluse?

Or it might get me labeled That Weird Nerd Girl. Hm. Don't wanna go that far.

I started the reading. 15 pages took me and hour and a half. That's 5 pages every 30 minutes. So 45 pages equals 4.5 hours. Of just the reading part of this one class. I also have to actually STUDY the material and work on the written assignment. So that's another 2ish hours. So that's 6.5 hours. And this is just one class's homework. I have this class twice a week. So that's really more like 13 hours of work.

Holy shit. I had not actually thought it through this far yet. How many hours are even in a week?

Well, if you take 24 hours and multiply it by 5 days, omitting the weekends, there are 120 hours. But I also need to eat, sleep and go to class.

So like 62 hours of actual time where I could study {I took out 8 hours a night for sleeping, the hours I'm in class, and 3 hours total for eating all week}.

And 13 of those hours need to be spend doing National Government apparently.

So 49 hours left to do all my other homework and have a social life.

Hm. I mean...that's doable, I guess. Right?

I have 5 other classes, so that leaves like 10 hours a week to do homework from each class, and I'm pretty sure some of them won't requite THAT much work. Right? Maybe?

Tonight is the blacklight dance. Don't worry, both Sarah and Sam have already warned me about being oblivious to the way my dancing might make'll be careful XD

Tomorrow I have

11am-11:50 Theater
1pm-1:50 Western Civilization
2pm-3:20 Math

I am dreeeeeeeeeading math. More than anything else. I practically didn't DO math the last semester of highschool, because I was a lazyass and no one called me on it. I'm going to DIE!!!!!!!


Oh Goddddddd.

I'm gonna go do more National Government reading.


Monday, August 20, 2012

Last Day Before Classes Start

{I put up dorm room pictures. They're in a page, like, right above this sentence. Well, and above the cloud of labels. Yeah. There. That.}


How am I?

I'm always okay until I think about that question. Then the magnitude of what's going on washes over me and I can't breathe. Maybe I should stop asking myself that. Maybe I should just write, and that question will answer itself.

Today was pretty good. My roommate, Rebekah, and I were late for our first ever required meeting, because we thought it was at 10am when it was at 9am. I was so disappointed and annoyed with myself. I had it clearly written down as 9am on my schedule. I don't know when the mental block arose.

But we weren't the only late people, and no one took attendance, so it didn't really matter.

After the required "Camel 101" meeting, we came back to the room to tackle our To-Do lists.

My To-Do List:
- Get PO box number
- Locate classes
- Stock binders and pack bag
- Figure out the remote thing
- Set up "Web-Access"
- Register laptop
- Deal with my emails

All of those things were very important, and I was a little overwhelmed. But I firmly began attacking them.

Then my internet refused to connect. A page popped up and said my computer was "quarentined." Three of the biggest To-Do list monsters involved the internet. As to be expected, I began to be extremely stressed out. I didn't know where to start finding answers, and the amount and importance of the things I needed to do felt crushing.

Rebekah noticed that I was quietly going off the deep end, and made me go with her to lunch. I think we're going to work out well.

Except that right now, she's getting her ass grabbed by some dickbag {<--Yes, Sam} named Ryan who thinks "cannibalist" is a word and the way to make friends with girls is to grab them from behind and throw them off the sidewalk. {Personally, I put an end to that reallllllll quick, and I think he hates me now. Good.}

It bothers me not only because it's outrageously obnoxious to be around, but also because I'm worried about Rebekah. I really don't think she's a slut. She's really sweet and a Christian and we have a TON in common. Maybe she's just glad to feel wanted or accepted or something. Hm.

But yeah. I've been at the Street Fair with Rebekah and Ryan for two hours now, and I'm a little {okay, a lot} burnt out on giggling and grabbing and superficial, flirtacious bickering. I'm probably being antisocial by sitting in my room blogging, but... I just need a quick break.

Oh, my internet is {obviously} working now. I really got a good handle on my To-Do list after lunch. Sometimes all it takes is a little Coca-Cola. I took the laptop to Computer Services and then knocked out the other tasks.

Except that damn remote. What IS that thing?!

My first ever college class is tomorrow. I only have one tomorrow: National Government from 12:30-1:50. No matter how terrible that class is, at least I can count on having the rest of the day to fall apart if I so desire.

I also want to try to get into the habit of working out.

And start looking for scholarships to Wake Forest, and apply.

And...*sigh* I don't want to be starting college after all, guys. I liked my life at home. I'm still a kid. I swear. I'm not old enough for this.

But so far, I mean, it's okay. I'm okay.

Oh, and my cold/sore throat is a LOT better! I'm giving the credit to all the prayers that I know went up for me. Thanks, guys, and thanks to everyone at home who is, for the most part, never going to see this XD

For tomorrow, pray that I'm not the dumbest, most uneducated person in my National Government class. I'm actually bad at that subject. And yes, I am a political science major. Don't judg--nah, you know what, go ahead and judge me XD


Sunday, August 19, 2012

First Morning

Well. I am at college. I am at Campbell University in my dorm room with my roommate Rebekah, sitting in a plastic chair, typing this post on a laptop that is mine on a desk afixed to the wall.

How am I?

I dunno.

Yesterday was pretty good. I mean, it really couldn't have gone better. Mom, Daddy, Sarah, Cassidy, and David (unbiological brother) came with me to move in and say goodbye. I definitely couldn't have moved in without them. Daddy tackled the long, thin bookcase; Cassidy and David figured out the short, wide shelving unit; Sarah helped everyone with everything; Momma put away all my stuff; I put away my clothes.

Let me just say, my room looks AMAZING. I have seriously never seen a dorm room this awesome. Not in pictures, not in my hall, not anywhere. It's black and gray and green with Batman accents. Everything matches, and it looks great.

I also have everything I could possibly want, I think. My mom stocked me up on everything from Rice Krispy Treats to a wisk to cold medicine.

{I'll take picutres later :)}

Speaking of cold medicine, I think I'm getting sick, which is extremely troubling to me. I don't want to have a cold and a sore throat for my first few days of college. I don't want to feel terrible and pitiful and not have anyone to take care of me. I know it has to happen sometime, but why right now? :-/

There are a lot of things I haven't done or figured out yet. I haven't taken a shower here yet. I've barely used the restroom. I haven't gotten a PO box. I definitely haven't had classes yet.

Oh, in my box of textbooks, I got some weird, remote-like thing. I'm really worried and confused about it, because I have no clue what it is. It's probably something hilariously obvious or unimportant, but I'm a little stressed out about that...

Okay, how AM I. How AM I? {If you can't tell, this post is as much for me as it is for you. Journaling is too slow for the torrent of thoughts and experiences I have to record right now.}

*sigh* I don't know. I still want to go home. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that THIS IS MY HOME NOW. I don't WANT it to be that way. I feel like I'm still living at home, and college is just a visit, instead of it being the other way around. To be honest, I don't want to lose that. I know that to enjoy college to the fullest I have to embrace it, but...well, maybe I don't WANT to enjoy college to the fullest. *sigh*

All I want is to get by happily with good grades and then move the hell back to where I belong and go to Wake Forest.

My first weekend home is Labor Day, Friday the 31st through Monday the 3rd. I cannot wait. I'm counting down the days. I'm just holding on for that. I'm holding on for when I can eat my mom's food and do nothing/everything with Cassidy and hug my sister and watch TV with my dad and be with Sam.

I just want to have a nice visit at college and hold out for the times when I go HOME.

I know that's terrible. I know I need to stop. But I still hope that I won't.

Can you just pray that the evening of August 31st comes quickly, and that this cold/sore throat doesn't get too bad?


P.S. I'm going to chapel in forty-five minutes. I hope it doesn't suck.

P.P.S Also, please keep in touch with me. Comment, email, those who have my cell number, TEXT ME RELENTLESS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. Even if I don't reply every time, for the love of God keep harrassing me. Please.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Last Day


Today is my last day.

It's my last day of being a kid.

It's my last day of living at home.

It's my last day of having this as a permanent address.

It's my last day of knowing I'm only ever a few days away from seeing Sam.

It's my last day having the Kia.

It's my last day of asking Sarah what to wear.

It's my last day of knowing Cassidy could show up any time she wanted to.

It's my last day of Mom being right there to help me with anything and everything.

It's my last day of Daddy showing me weird, vaguely uninteresting things in the yard.

I know I should be excited about college, and I guess there's a part of me that is, but right now all I can think about is what I'll be leaving behind, what I'll miss. I've cried more in the past three days than I have in the past three months, and I know I'm not finished yet.

There are so many things I want. I want a higher education. I want to study political science. I want to stay in a dorm room. I want independence. I want the college experience.

But there are so many things I want here at home, too. I want dance. I want Wake Forest. I want my family. I want my friends. I want Sam.

Everything I see reminds me of something I'm going to miss. It's incredible. It's terrible.

This is my last day, and I'm sitting on the computer complaining and trying not to cry. That's a stupid, poor way to spend my last day. But...*sigh*

It's not like going to Europe for three weeks, knowing that in 21 days, I could go right back to the way things were before. NOTHING is ever going to be the same again. I hate that. I hate that a lot, because I LOVE the way things are now.

And to be honest, I have a huge amount of trouble believing that ANYTHING will be the same ever again. I'll come back home to visit, and all the people will have changed. New world views, new best friends, new crushes, new inside jokes, new looks, etc. I won't be around to see the gradual change--or prevent it--and I'll have lost everything I knew and I loved.

I should have gone to college LAST year. Spring of 2011, maybe. Last spring I was a lean, mean, uncaring machine. I was great at compartmentalizing and being cold and not caring. I could have gone to college last spring. But now I'm all attached to people and junk.

This is a very poor Last Day of Childhood post. This post should have been brief, inspiring, enthusiastic. Instead it was rambling, depressing and desperately terrified. But this is what I have to say, and I suppose you're reading it anyway.

I plan to continue blogging in college, although I have no idea what my life or schedule is going to be like. Hopefully my next post here will be more encouraging and less heartbroken.

Prayers would be appreciated.


Friday, August 3, 2012

The First Day

{Emotional drama ahead. I get really descriptive with my emotions sometimes. I'm a drama queen. But writing it all out like this is kind of helpful. I apologize for the length and the intense disappointed sadness.}

"Go back a little to leap farther." ~ John Clark

I like that quote. But I doubt that's what I was thinking when I broke my 20-month clean streak {clean from what? Click HERE for that post} a couple of days ago.

It's confusing. Confusion was the first emotion I felt at 1:30am last Wednesday. Huh? What had broken me? Why had I given in? How was that night different from the other 607?

The confusion was followed by disbelief. This hadn't really happened. It had to be a dream. I didn't actually throw away a year and a half of determined effort. I wouldn't do that. That's not something I'd do.

But, like, it was. I had really done that.

That's when the gut-chilling, spirit-crushing, somehow-tangible burden of disgusted, disappointed, nauseated, crippling regret descended.

I had somehow talked myself into believing I wouldn't regret it that time, despite the fact that I have always monstrously regretted every other time I've slipped up. Why did I decide to believe that lie? There was no evidence to support it! It didn't make sense. It DOESN'T make sense.

After I messed up, I couldn't be still. I was actually afraid to be still, like I thought my problem was something physical that could literally catch me. I walked around the big room downstairs. I went to my room. I ran upstairs. I had lots of rapid, choppy, blurred thoughts.

Then the feeling of regret started to feel too heavy to move around. I stood still. I held my head up with my hands. I stared at myself in the mirror.

I felt really alone. Not in a pitiful, sad way, but in a violently terrified, I-am-literally-the-only-person-alive-right-now kind of way.

I texted Sam. "I really hope this doesn't wake you up, but I have to tell someone: I fucked up. 20 months clean and I just fucked up. I don't even know what to do."

The text did not wake him up, and that was a good thing, but I was still irrationally afraid that there might not be anyone else on the planet with a beating heart and working lungs. So I texted Aaron.

"Are you awake?"


"I just broke my 20-month clean streak. I don't even know what to do."

"...nothing? Move on? Nothing else you can really do."

He then proceeded to talk me up from I Fail At Life And Don't Want To Breathe Anymore to I Feel Terrible But I Guess I Should Sleep Now.

The next day--yesterday--was really difficult. I had forgotten how difficult it could be. I had actually forgotten what it feels like to have those thoughts right beneath your skin, pressing and crawling and burning. Pressing behind my teeth. Crawling through my hands. Burning within my stomach. Invading every moment. Every moment was a struggle. EVERY. MOMENT.

I had seriously contradictory feelings about the whole thing. Part of me wanted to talk about the failure all the time, and part of me really wanted never to speak of it again. I wanted to tell everyone, scream it out on the street, but at the same time I didn't want to bring it up to anyone at all ever.

I felt like the biggest attention-whoring drama queen in existence {and after this post, you probably will too XD}.

Sam came over that night. He and Sarah and I watched the Olympics for like 3 hours. I hadn't eaten all day, so I had some pizza. Then I had ramen. My body was starving, but it felt wrong to eat. Had it not been for people around, I know I wouldn't have. It really worries Sarah when she thinks I'm not eating enough.

Apart from a hilarious chase scene between me and Sam-the-Cellphone-Thief, I wasn't really fun the whole night. I mostly sat on the couch and thought negative things about myself XD I did a completely atrocious job of disguising my mood, and felt really awful about that. But somehow I couldn't force myself to be happier, funnier, more alive.

Dunno why, but Sam stayed around with me. {Sam, I swear I'll be more fun next time you see me. I'll figure out how, and I'll make myself not be terrible XD Promise.} He probably would have stayed longer than he did, but my parents weren't home and it was late and we both knew he needed to go.

Today has been better. A lot better, actually. I didn't expect it to get this much easier this quickly. {And the screwed up part of me says, "See, no problem. You can bounce back in a couple of days. Go for it again." Gah, shut the hell up.}

I have a lot of days to go before I'll be back where I was on July 31st. But I know I CAN do it--I have before. I know what a 20-month clean streak feels like, but more importantly, I know what it feels like to lose it, and I have no plans to let that happen ever again.

I KNOW what I can do. I'm STRONGER this time. I'm MORE determined. I'm MORE sure of what I want.

Huh. "Go back a little to leap farther." Maybe that quote isn't so far off after all.

{Not that I recommend leaping back XD}

Here we go again, guys. Here's to getting through the rest of Day 2.