Remember when...

.. we were little?

You were little and your biggest fears were monsters under the bed.
While most kids were scared of the boogeyman, you imagined him as Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas. And he was your friend.
Still, you didn't like the dark, so you slept with a light on.
And hid a book under the covers, staying up way past bedtime because you just had to finish the next chapter, then the next. But mom said lights out so it had to be secret, just in case she came in and you were discovered.
You went to bed, and worried that everyone was having fun without you, but then you would sneak downstairs and your mom is sitting up, watching ER. And you realize you would rather be sleeping.
Or you waited until everyone else was asleep, and then your sister wakes you up to sneak downstairs for a midnight snack.
And a midnight snack wasn't a pizza ordered drunkenly at midnight, but a sandwich made with Lay's potato chips.
And you didn't have to make your own lunch, or wash the dishes or do the laundry because you probably couldn't reach the buttons anyway.
And your idea of a wild night was staying up half an hour later to watch TGIF with the "big kids", or playing board games or when your mom actually lets you play with her gorgeous thick hair, brushing it and putting in fancy clips, like you actually know what you're doing. Because you are practically a professional.
And you didn't always have to participate. It was acceptable to stand on the sidelines and observe, and in so many ways you were that much wiser than the so called "big kids", because while they bickered and argued and played, you noticed all the little things about each of them, all the details that they missed and were too loud to notice.
Or mom was too busy mediating them to notice the three oreos you took while no one was looking, each one shoved into your mouth whole, and the crumbs on your lips hastily wiped away so as not to leave a single trace of evidence that might get you in trouble.
And all you want to do is be around your big sisters, want them to like you, to be included.
So you sit outside the room, wishing you could play Barbies or business, waiting for someone to take pity on you and throw you a minor role in the game. Usually a non-speaking part.
And your mom is the prettiest woman in the world.
And your big brother is your hero, your little brother always a nuisance, but the one person you get to feel protective of, and you get to play the part of the "big kid".
And your grandparents are your angels.
Remember when you were little, and everything was simple and easy?
Remember when the lines between right and wrong were so much clearer, and black and white didn't exist because everyone had their own vibrant color.
Remember when the world still seemed as beautiful as we like to make it out to be?
I remember when the world still seemed as beautiful as I like to pretend it to be.

Thinking with the right head...

I have to stop writing about my feelings and write more about my thoughts.

I always thought the two were linked. But upon closer inspection, I realized they are easily separated.
Thoughts and feelings are always biased though.
I just need to learn to separate my heart from my head. I need to learn to think before I jump. To assess before I react.

As Michael Scott says on The Office, "Adapt, React, Readapt, Act."

Four steps to success. This is my first step. I am adapting.
See next post for step two: REACT.

And here we go again...

It's a sick game we play.

I hurt you, you hurt me.

I lie, you leave.

And we always end up right back in this place. We think we can, we think we can...

Because we want it so bad.

I just don't think I have it in me.

No, I just don't know for sure that I have it in me.

Because your eyes are a constant reminder of what I've lost, what I could have had.

What I didn't want.

Because my lips don't always form the words I'm dying to say, to scream. And this may one day cause me to explode.

After all, I'm just a girl. Barely an adult in years, in experience, in worldliness...

I'm not ready for the responsibility of carrying you while trying to hold myself.

I'm not strong enough, it would only break my back.

But we always end up right back in this place. We think we can, we think we can...

And I still want it so bad.

Rules.

Growing up, there were a few things our in house that were simply not tolerated:

- the words "shut up"
- hitting
- locking my little brother in the basement
- lying

As I got older, this list grew to:

- boys in my room
- skipping school
- lying

Somehow along my journey from a sweet, wide-eyed child to the young woman I am today, I learned to lie better than probably anyone I know.

Now, I'm not saying I'm some huge liar, because I'm not. It's impossible for me to lie to my sisters, to my best friend.

But if you are someone who is standing in front of me and expects me to tell you how I feel, don't expect an honest answer.
I couldn't give you one if I wanted to.



But if there is one thing I know about rules, it's how to play by them.

Being a BIG kid

I think I've grown up.

I think I've grown up enough to know what is good for me, to know wrong from right, to always eat my vegetables.
I think I'm grown up enough to know that sometimes people lie, people make mistakes, people will hurt you.
I think I've grown up enough to know that people learn, that people grow, but some people don't.
I think I've grown up enough to know that people will surprise you, people are incredible, but you have to deal with the bad stuff too.
I think I've grown up enough to know that the world is beautiful, even if you're not wearing those rose-colored glasses people always go on about.
I think I've grown up enough to know that I'm not ready to be a grown up, but I'm ready to start that process.

I wish my mom had told me that there's more to growing up than eating your vegetables and learning to tie your shoes.

But I can understand why she didn't.