A Thank You to the Boy Who Broke my Heart...and the Boy Who Came After Him.

A Thank You to the Boy who Broke my Heart...and the Boy who Came After Him.

Dear boy who broke my heart, 
Thank you. Thank you for putting up with my crazy, my emotional struggles, my mental breakdowns, and my personal faults. Thank you for staying through the hard times, the bad days, and the moments of weakness. Thank you for lifting me up when I needed it, telling me I was beautiful on my worst days, and falling so deep in love with me that you thought you would never get out. Thank you thank you thank you for being my rock and my best friend. Also, thank you for leaving. Thank you for holding my hand and telling me you loved me before walking away for the last time. Thank you for ignoring phone calls, text messages, and the constant "why" that came every day after. Thank you for telling me you just needed some time, but actually meaning you needed forever. Thank you for tearing my heart into a lot of tiny pieces. Most of all, thank you for teaching me strength and stone. You taught me how to feel less and how to make myself happy. You taught me how to be alone and okay. Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart, for making me tough.

Dear boy who came after,
Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for promising you wouldn't leave. Thank you for helping me learn how to trust myself with someone again, Thank you for listening to every sad story I had to tell and every unfortunate justification I had to make for my heart of stone. Thank you for telling me it's okay to fall for someone and that it's just as scary for you too. Thank you for telling me you wanted to fall in love with me, even though you knew it would take some time. Thank you for ensuring me it was okay to meet your friends and become part of the group and promising that you wouldn't go anywhere even if your friends didn't like me. Thank you for the sleepovers, dealing with the emotional talks, and making me feel like I mattered. Finally, thank you for leaving. Thank you for showing me how people change in the blink of an eye. Thank you for teaching me how to wake up one morning and not care about the person I was sleeping next to and kissing goodbye before work. Thank you for making my partially melted heart freeze right back up. Thank you for the excuses and the million reasons why you decided that you just didn't care. Thank you for running as fast as you could. It means more to me than you'll ever know.

Dear boy whose coming next, 
I don't know if you exist. I don't know if you want to. I'm slightly broken, damaged goods. I don't know that you'll want to pick up those pieces or clean up that mess. I've adjusted well to being alone and independent. I will choose my best friend over you every time. I'll spend my own money, work as many hours as I see fit, and some days, I'll just want to be alone. I'll take as many opportunities as I want, whether it means traveling a million miles away from you or picking up an extra shift. I won't come running if you call, and I won't chase after you if you go. I won't change my personality, my appearance, or my social life to suit your needs or wants. Sometimes I'll seem a little cold and uninterested, while sometimes I'll be more involved in you than in anything else. I'll treat you as best as I know how. I won't hurt you, I won't destroy you, and I won't chase you away. I can't promise that I'll make you stick around, but I can promise that I'll leave that choice entirely up to you. I don't need you, even if I really want you. If you need to thank anyone for that, thank the boy who broke my heart and the boy who came after him.

The Unfortunate Truth Behind Some Unfortunate People

Well, it's Wednesday. I'm pretty sure every blog post starts off just like that. I'm still sitting at this boring desk, but I've managed to keep myself busy doing things this morning. Keeping busy is always a good thing. It makes me happy, and it makes me feel like I'm not wasting all of my time thinking about absolutely nothing, or about the absolute wrong things...and people.

Speaking of wrong people, I have some lovely updates on our favorite wrong person. After sleeping with Kris a little over a week ago, communication has since been scarce. I figured this would happen, and I prepared myself in the best way possible, but I think as humans, we have a natural tendency to get our hopes up, even when we know we shouldn't. I think that's what I did, despite doing my best to prepare for his abrupt but expected departure. Kris is a runner. He's been one since I met him. He put on a really good act for the first month or so that we dated, but eventually, his true colors shined bright and blurry. He swears that he doesn't follow a pattern; that everything he does is completely random and spur of the moment. I don't buy it for a second.

Kris and I dated for a little over three months before the first break up, but that last month was the worst. In the beginning, he was the sweetest guy I'd ever met. He was always asking me to hang out, he encouraged me to meet and spend time with his friends. He bought me just about anything I wanted and paid for every date. He would pick me up, I rarely ever had to drive. We talked everyday, basically all day when time allowed. It was perfect. Then one by one, those perfect things started fading away until they just didn't exist anymore. One day he was breaking up with me without a solid reason. A week passed before we tried again, and again, the same fleeting feeling happened, just in a shorter period of time. I shouldn't have expected this to go any different, but a small part of me did.

I almost expected this to be like Levandis. I wanted it to be the same pattern so much that I convinced myself it would be. With Levandis, we were basically dating without a title, then prom happened and we stopped talking, the we fixed things, then Sarina happened and we stopped talking, then we fixed things and dated a year and a half before quitting. Kris and I dated, then broke up, dated, then broke up, then slept together. I expected a relationship to follow, but it didn't. He swears that he told me he wasn't looking for a relationship, which is half accurate. He did tell me he wasn't looking for a relationship right now, but the way he said it, he made it sound like we just needed to get back on track before dating again. Yet this past Monday, he told me he couldn't give me what I want, and that he wasn't ready for a relationship. Is this a joke? I'm not laughing if it is. Communication over the last week has faded slowly. It went from snapchats and texts to just snapchats. Today, I haven't heard from him at all.

We had a relatively lengthy argument Monday night over his stupidity. Now let me ask you this, future readers (probably me in a few months). If you want someone, and you find yourself missing them when they're gone, do you go get them or do you let them go? YOU GO GET THEM. You do not let that person go because you will be regretting it later. Kris is relatively selfish, so I'm not sure how much he would really regret letting me walk away. However, I'd like to think he's at least feeling a pang of hurt over this, even if he doesn't let on.

I told him he was stupid for consistently letting people go, and that he was stupid for constantly blaming it on his selfishness. Selfish is doing something for your own personal gain and no one else's. It's keeping the $100 bill you found on the street because you need a new pair of shoes rather than turning it in for fear that the person who lost it might need it more. Being selfish is not sharing your french fries, even though you won't finish them and you'll forget the to-go box on the table, because their YOURS, and why would you share your stuff? That's being selfish. Being stupid, however, is chasing and pushing people away because they care about you. Because the thought of you hurting or struggling pains them, and they want to be supportive and helpful. It's perfectly acceptable to be independent and self-serving. I'm pretty on my own when it comes to most things. I pay for whatever I can, I rarely ask people for favors, I hardly ever bother anyone with my problems. I'm good at being alone. I grew up an only child. My entire family was wealthy while we were the poor black sheep, so I was typically secluded from all of my cousins. I grew up extremely shy with a lack of skills to make friends. I had me, and me was all I needed. Yes, I've struggled with letting people in because based on experience, people always leave at one point or another. Even if they promise that they'll always be around, they break that promise faster than a softball player breaks a nail.

Friends and loved ones have come and gone in my life since I was a kid. As soon as I tell one of them my secrets, they're finding new friends to spend time with, and now my secrets are no longer safe with a friend. They're in the mind of a stranger who abandoned me when I thought I needed them. At some point, I learned to stop needing people. I don't need Kris, or a relationship in general. I would enjoy one, especially with him, but it's not make or break for me. I've often contemplated spending forever alone, and it's not as scary as it sounds. If I never found someone after Levandis, I would've been okay not looking anymore. Levandis was a dick. He was a terrible boyfriend to me, and he's not the greatest to Sandie. He's not even a good friend anymore. It is what it is. I'm truly better off without him.

Kris, however, is a different story. There was nothing wrong with us, a phrase I found myself saying daily after the first break up. It's the truth though. There wasn't anything wrong with us, except for the fact that I cared about him and he doesn't know how to handle it. I'll admit, it's a trying process. I struggled so hard trying to care about people after TJ and again after Levandis. I always find myself in that place after a break up. I finally learn how to care again, and then they leave, and I realize why I put in such an effort to not care. Then when I do get in a relationship, most of the initial conversations involve: "why don't you seem to care?", "why can't you talk to me about this stuff?", etc. It's a never ending cycle, and I know how it goes. It's unfortunate, but it's my pattern. We all have patterns, even if we don't want to admit it.

So, I understand Kris's struggle to take responsibility for a relationship. A lot of weight is put on your shoulders because you begin to feel responsible for someone else's well being and their emotional state. You want good things for your significant other and you feel like you have to provide them with those good things. It's a heavy task load, and when you have other life things going on, you definitely have to pick and choose your battles carefully. With that being said, I fully respect his lack of readiness for a relationship. I don't think I'm ready for a relationship with him yet, but I was at least willing to work slowly to get there. However, what I don't respect is running away from people who want nothing but the best for you, and who truly just want to care about you.

I care about Kris more than he realizes. He was such an important person in my life for so many reasons. He came around at a time where my world was still slightly flipped upside down, walls were crashing, and nothing seemed like it was going to work out in my favor. He changed all of that. He showed me a positive side to all the trouble I was having. Whether it was a word of encouragement that I would pass orgo or a forehead kiss to show that not all guys suck, he was a key piece to finding my sanity. He doesn't even realize it. He was the most giving person I had ever met. He dished out money like he was a millionaire, he took great care of me when I needed it, and he gave so much effort into our relationship and making me fit in. He was never selfish unless it was with his food.

Even when he broke up with me, he wasn't being selfish. He didn't leave because he didn't care or because he didn't like me. He left because he thought I was settling. He thought I deserved better than what I was getting because he couldn't give me all of his time or attention like he thought I wanted. He started catching on that I cared so much and he started distancing himself. He started pulling away from me, and with that went all of the nice things I came to love about him. He warned me within the first week of our relationship that sometimes his anger makes him say things he doesn't mean. He never told me that his fear did the same. I learned that one on my own. I cared, he freaked out, and he told me a lot of lies to push me away and force me to move on. Imagine his surprise when he figured out that it didn't work, and that even now after all of this commotion, I'm still here.

The thing about me is that once I care about you, it's a consistent thing. It stays for a very long time, and you have to do something really terrible for it to change. When he came back into my life on the strangest Monday in my history of Monday's, I was looking so hard for a pattern. I looked desperately until I realized that there was a pattern, just not the one I wanted. I wish he would understand how much I care. I wish he would stop pushing people away because they care, and in addition, blaming it on his selfish nature.

He lost Nicole and the rest of his crew for the same reasons. He shut them out, like he always does, when he has a problem. Something went wrong in his life and instead of looking for support, his independent mindset told him to deal with it himself. In turn, Nicole & friends felt offended because they wanted to help him but he wouldn't let them in. Now, I do understand Kris's quiet nature since I'm the same way. If I'm having these problems, everyone else is too, so why put mine on top of theirs and make them deal with double? I'll deal with them myself and keep everyone as sane as possible. Nicole and the crew should understand that, but I also understand how difficult that can be. As his girlfriend, it was terrorizing watching him go through hard times and not knowing what they were or how to help. Levandis used to hate when I kept to myself because he said it made him feel useless. Like he just wanted to be here for me and he couldn't be and he didn't know what to do. I never understood that until Kris. I finally felt that useless feeling, and it was agonizing. Regardless, I dealt with it and did the best that I could. I respected his feelings, but I never said it was easy.

Nicole should've just given him his time and his space to work out his emotions, but she didn't, and as a result, he pushed her, and everyone associated with her, to the side. He didn't want her to care about him so much, and when she did, he ran in the complete opposite direction. He does it to everyone. Even me. It's sad and unfortunate, but it's obvious that no amount of talking will ever change his mind. Even after a long message, the only response I could get from him was "I guess only time will tell." And then I haven't heard from him since. Well, he snapchatted me twice on Tuesday, but nothing on Wednesday. And since I'm finishing this post on Thursday, I can accurately say that I haven't heard from him today either. It's a major bummer.At least when he was snapchatting me, I knew he was thinking about me. He was making the conscious decision to scroll through his friends and mark my name when there was a cute puppy or a funny scene outside. Now, he's making a point to scroll past my name when these things happen, and although I realize that means he's still thinking about me, it also means he's walking away.

It's times like these where I realize that keeping my mouth shut might have been a better idea. Or maybe responding to the snapchats I got Tuesday would've resulted in the trend continuing. Or maybe avoiding him two Mondays ago and not answering his snapchat or text message would've saved me all of this trouble. I never know the right way to handle these situations. I never know what the best move is. I want it to be like the movies where if you don't answer him, he'll chase after you. But I also recognized patterns with other people that I want to apply here. The struggle is that everyone's different and every situation's different. What works with one person might not work with another, and what works under one circumstance might not work under another. There's a lot of difficulties all rolled into one person, and in turn, it hurts everyone around them.

I really do hope that I'm overthinking the day without a snapchat ordeal. I also hope that my final message got to him enough to make him think about it. Even if he and I don't work, I want him to be happy at some point. Everyone deserves that. To his face, I'll never admit it. But even jackasses like him deserve a shot at being completely over the moon ecstatic over another human being. I hope that it can be me. I hope that my lecturing, yelling, and "you're such an idiot's" will make a difference, and that it'll make a difference with me. But I guess only time will tell, and time is a grueling concept.

Just Another Wired Wednesday.

Well, it's Wednesday. Another four and a half hour shift at the most boring job in the world. I can't focus, per usual. Granted, there's nothing really to focus on except for the two men working vigorously on the fire alarms who will most likely dish out some harsh judgment when they go off and I jump, even though I know they're gonna go off. My right arm hurts more than usual, but I'm not really surprised. I really think it's these esophageal muscle spasms, which really shouldn't even be a thing. But I'll deal with them. I can get past the arm thing.

It's been a weird, exciting, and unfortunate past few days. Yes, I absolutely used those three words to describe the same collection of events. Monday was the weirdest. I was up at 3 am to drive Millie to Dekalb for cheer camp. I finally made it to my couch around 5:45. Instead of an hour nap before leaving for work, I got a snapchat from Kris. Not surprising. I expect one daily now, except the circumstances have change a little. His snapchat Monday was a picture of his back porch with the caption "I had a dream that you were here." Weird. I usually assume all of the snapchats I get are just received in a collection sent to every other girl on his friends list. This one was meant for me. It was specifically for me. Why are you dreaming about me? What was I doing on your back porch? Why did you feel the need to tell me about it? Was any of this conversation actually necessary? The questions were endless, but instead of asking, I kindly replied by telling him I was on my couch and not to worry. None of my reply snaps were worth a response, yet he kept sending some anyways. Before I knew it, he had worked his way to number one on my best friends list. And as soon as he got there, he was texting me and we were having a conversation. Why does this always happen to me? I distinctly remember the day of the Hawks parade in 2013 when I was on the train with Dominique and Levandis texted me for the first time in a month or so. The conversation was short because he still had a girlfriend, but regardless, he felt the need to talk to me. Then the fourth of July came and I was in Millie's car and I got another text from him, even though I had ignored anything he sent me since the parade. For some reason, something told me to respond, so I did. Later that night, we were kissing in a parking lot watching the fireworks and snuggling up to each other, just like we had on top of Belly Button Hill all those times before him and Sarina. A few weeks after that, we were a real couple. Something I couldn't even get him to do after months of talking and hanging out and being together. Part of me has used that experience to judge everything after that too, which is why I answered Kris and held a conversation and eventually went to his house that night.

Going to his house was weird, but a normal kind of weird. I did it like I'd been doing it the whole summer. Told my mom I was going to Vanessa's, got in my car, turned Pandora on, and looked for the quickest way to get on 57. Parked my car in front and walked in the front door, the only thing different being the furnished living room. I was greeted by a happy, slobbery Shadow and an adorable boy laying in bed watching cartoons. For a second, it felt like nothing was different, until I realized that everything was different. This boy broke me temporarily. He changed me. He made me fall hard and fast for his charisma and trusting eyes just to change his mind over and over again. He made me cold and indifferent about feelings. I didn't even cry the day he broke up with me for good because I lacked that much emotion. He made me hate him which is something I pride myself in avoiding. I hate very few people, and the ones I do hate deserved it under every circumstance. As soon as I realized that everything about this encounter was different than it used to be, I tensed up and turned bitch mode on, biting my tongue every time he opened his mouth. I wanted to scream, yell, and punch him, but instead, I sat quietly at the edge of his bed watching TV or staring at my phone.

I felt like my sanity was being tested with every word that he said. Every time he told me to come lay down, I didn't know if I wanted to claw his eyeballs out or yell or cry. Why? Why do you want me to lay down? Why do you want me here? What is this? More endless questions that went unanswered. I fought long and hard to avoid being close to him. At one point, I started my word vomit, as expected, and he leaned up real fast and got real close to my face and asked "are you done?," with that smirk on his face that always made me want to kiss him hard and fast. My heart froze in my chest and I couldn't find words. I breathed the heaviest sigh of relief when he laid back down. A few minutes later, I was being pulled and tugged to his end of the bed. I assumed I would lay there and he would lay on his side and it would be awkward and uncomfortable and silent. Not even close. The minute he got me on the pillow, he was putting his arms around me; a feeling so familiar and so missed. I fit in his body like I was always meant to be there, even though in this moment, I was meant to be anywhere else. All I could think of was fourth of July in 2013 when Levandis kissed me for the first time in a month. The feeling in my stomach as soon as he did it, the giddiness I felt on the ride home, and the nervousness I felt in the coming weeks about how stable our "relationship" would be. Kris scared me. His actions were so familiar, and it made it all too easy to fall back into old habits.

After the fifth "what are you doing right now," he asked me if I missed him. A question he asked me earlier that day via text message, to which I replied. "I really really missed your dog." The same response I gave when asked in person. Until he kissed me. Slow and soft, just like he used to. The same kiss I got on our first date. The same kiss I got almost every day until the Friday before he broke up with me the first time. And then the second time. Immediately, I was back into old habits, praying and hoping that I wouldn't fall flat on my face. I should've known better, but even three days later, I still don't know if I'm learning my lesson. Before I knew what I was doing, I was telling him I missed him, and he was kissing me with twice as much passion as I had expected, telling me he missed me too. Then clothes were coming off. Mouths were moving quick. Everything was happening all at once, and I truly had no idea how to feel. This wouldn't be like sex with Levandis. It wouldn't be a quick five minutes of no kissing and minimal touching. This wouldn't be the bare minimum to accomplish what we needed. This would have feelings. For someone who was unattracted and bored, the next 30 minutes definitely did not feel that way. For 30 minutes, I was convinced that nothing had changed. We were still us and our relationship was still strong. But once it was over and my clothes were back on, and he was waiting for me to climb into bed with him to cuddle and finish the movie, I knew that nothing was normal. "So that's why you missed me." Not "that was great," or "you're so good at that." An immediate accusation left my mouth and part of me remembered why we didn't work the first time.

He swore that he didn't just use me for sex, it wasn't even part of his plan. I didn't know if I should believe him, but now I'm starting not to. However, stupidly in that moment, I did. I laid back down with him and finished the movie. When it was over, we laid in his bed, both staring at our phones, not really talking or saying anything. We hadn't talked about all of the things that had happened in between the time we were apart. He briefly mentioned his issue with Nicole and how they aren't really friends. I told him that TJ got married. We talked a little about Stacie and Steve's wedding, and he hinted at me letting him walk me down the aisle and seat me. What does that mean? Do we have a future now? Am I gonna be a thing for him again? I have no idea, but it freaks me the fuck out. Anyways, besides those few pieces of information, we didn't talk about a lot. There was a lot of cuddling and sex and kissing. We decided that we were both hungry and had the typical "what are we gonna eat" discussion. We settled on KFC, got in the car, and off we went. He sang to me as always. Again, like nothing had changed. We sat in his bed and ate our food while searching desperately for something else to watch. He refused my Grey's Anatomy suggestion, even though I expressed how huge it was for me to be with him instead of binge watching. He still refused. Instead, we settled on some sort of creepy movie, that basically was torture on television. He went back and laid down while I stayed in my corner. I didn't know if I should leave because it was almost 10 or if I should stay and see what else happened. I chose to stay. We had the "come lay down" fight once again, but finally, he got me where he wanted me. This cuddle sesh seemed a lot more intimate than when I first got there. My head was on his chest, there were lots of cheek and forehead kisses, and a few times, he turned his entire body to cuddle me completely. I was so happy, it was ridiculous.

Before the movie started getting good, he asked me what time I was leaving. I said I would stay for a little bit longer and then go. He told me I could spend the night, but I couldn't leave before the movie ended. I wanted to spend the night, but I knew that I shouldn't, so I chose to stay for the movie and then leave. I almost kicked myself for not spending the night, but I knew it would be twice as hard to leave, and today, my regret behind that decision is minimal. It was a good choice. I snuggled blissfully while watching the weirdest movie I've ever seen. After it was over, we laid there for a couple minutes, and then I told him I had to go. He got up and let me out, and as I walked out the door, he gave me a kiss goodbye. I kept it short. I was trying to avoid it, because goodbye kisses mean a lot to me. Those could be the last kiss you ever give or receive from someone. You never know. You could die, you could break up, something could happen to them. You just never know. Goodbye kisses mean a lot to me, and accepting this one made it twice as hard to let go of the night. I'm still hopelessly waiting for another goodbye kiss, even though I'm relatively convinced that it won't happen.

When I got home, I texted him to let him know that I didn't get stabbed in the thigh by an ice pic or raped by an Aaron Carter look-alike. As soon as I got home, the word vomit started again. He openly admitted that he lied when he said he was unattracted and bored of us. He said it in an attempt to push me away and make it easier to let go. Well, look who came back. I told him he was an idiot for letting me go, and that a great part of me gave up on him a while ago, and that it was a total loss for him. "You were here tonight so it wasn't a complete loss." That statement may have broken me more than "I think we need to break up." It roped me in as soon as it left his fingers. I don't love him. I don't hate him. I'm infatuated with him, and I want to love him. I want him to let me love him. I want him to stop running. I told him he didn't want me and that he never did. He told me he does want me, just not a real relationship right now. I can't do this again. I can't Levandis again.

I'm not the type of person who shares well, and I blame it on being an only child. I never had to share my toys growing up, so why should I have to share my boys? I shouldn't. I also know I'm better than that. I know I'm worth a real relationship with someone who is just as infatuated with me as I am with them. I deserve someone's unconditional support and effort. I deserve a boyfriend, not a casual "let's hang out, fuck, then cuddle." I deserve more. I want more. With Kris, I'm not getting more. Who knows how many other girls he's talking to. Who knows how many other girls he's having sex with. Who knows what he's doing with his life. Maybe he just wanted to see me because his roommates weren't home and he has no other friends now. Maybe all of the other girls were busy. Maybe he really did miss me, and maybe he really does want to make something work again. Maybe this is Levandis 2.0. Maybe in a couple of weeks we'll be dating again. Maybe we'll make it work this time for real. Maybe we'll last a long year and a half before we finally give up on each other. Maybe history will repeat itself like it always does for me. I almost hope that this will work, even though the natural pessimist in me is screaming that it won't.

I vowed not to text him yesterday. I was always putting in the effort, why should I do it again? I also don't want to look desperate for attention or his affection. Around 7:30 in the morning, he snapchatted me a puppy and said good morning. I snapped back and commented on how cute it was. An hour or so later, he snapped me another puppy. I didn't respond. He snapped me again a little while after that showing me a surgery. I snapped him back and said it was gross. He said he knew. I didn't respond. Around 1:30, he texted me a screenshot of a "what are those" video. We talked the rest of the day. When I got home from work, I spewed more word vomit at him. The final message I sent him told him that I wasn't really here anymore, but I never left either. He said it didn't make sense, but it did. Here's why.

It's accurate. I'm not around anymore. I'm not going to snap and text him desperately looking for his attention. I'm not going to beg him to be around with me. I'm not going to ask him to hang out or do things. I'm not going to complain that I haven't seen him but I want to. I stopped doing that in May. I don't intend on doing it again. I can't. I did it once and he made sure to destroy that part of me when he left. I want him, but I don't need him, and he's going to see that. However, I never left either. He always had the opportunity to come back, and I would gladly take him. As long as he acted the way he did Monday night. I don't want the jackass I got last time. I want the sweet boy I got in the beginning. The one who cared. What happened happened. We can't change it nor can we take it back. It's over now. I gave up hope on him when he broke up with me and I didn't cry. I'm a crybaby by nature, so if I'm not crying over losing someone I thought I loved, then I've given up. Yet I still want him. If he wants to make us work, I'm totally on board. I didn't have the heart or the energy to clarify. I couldn't bring myself to provide an explanation. I barely slept on Monday due to my early start and eventful day, I didn't get to bed until after midnight Monday night just to wake up at 6:30 am for work Tuesday morning. I worked the desk and an orientation shift, which was busy and stressful. I sat in annoying traffic on my 1 hour+ ride home, ate a crappy Lean Cuisine for dinner, and watched dumb cartoons with my mom because I couldn't find the energy to make it down the stairs. I had no effort left to spill my heart out to a boy who doesn't really care. So when he said my statement made no sense, I just let it go and went to sleep. It's 11 am, he's posted 40 seconds worth of snapchat stories, but hasn't spoken to me yet. And maybe he won't. I know that it'll sting a little. Missing someone gets easier the less you see of them, but when they choose to make a surprise appearance at the most random time, the missing part gets hard again.

Part of me doesn't want to hear from him today. Part of me wants to get back on my path that I created for myself after he left. Anti-Kris attitude in full force. But a bigger part of me is afraid to look at my phone every time it vibrates because there's a good chance it won't be him on the other end. A bigger part of me wants him to text me something super random so we can start a conversation. Even when I tried ending the conversation yesterday and Monday by not texting back or texting something that didn't require a response, he found something to talk about. He invoked conversation. I almost feel like I should text him and talk because he's put in the effort and now it's my turn. I also don't feel like that's my responsibility. I don't want to be the bitch that won't text first, but I don't want to be the bitch that reeks of desperation. I want to hear from him, but I want him to know that I'm perfectly okay without him. That's a fine line, and I'm never sure where it truly crosses.

Today I get to hang out with my baby sissy. We're going shopping for her graduation present. We're gonna get some food. We're gonna spend one last bonding day together before she leaves for Wyoming tomorrow. Tomorrow, I have the day off, but he works from 1-8. I need to clean my room anyways so Mill and I can start painting on Friday. Friday, I work 8-12:30 at the desk, Rachel and I are getting lunch, then I work another orientation, so I probably won't get home until 6:30-7 anyways. We might start painting, but it'll probably start Saturday instead. I'll spend the whole weekend painting with Mill. I work a lot next week too, and we're getting closer and closer to school starting and my birthday. I'll have lots of things to keep me busy, I hope. I can make it through this. I know I can. It'll be hard, but I've gotten over harder things. I have a really great group of friends (Levandis, Millie, Moe, and Elaina) to keep me occupied. I haven't told any of them that Kris and I hung out, or are even speaking for that matter. I don't really know if I even will. There's no reason to tell them something that's not important. If Kris and I actually go somewhere, then I'll tell them. Until then, Briana is the only one who knows. She's the only one whose going to know. If she tells Moe, it's fine. I'll live with it. But I'm not making a big deal out of nothing. No mountains from mole hills. My heart is still bruised from the last time, but I've worked really hard to heal it. Now that it's almost there, I'm not going to let it hurt again. I refuse.

UPDATE: He snapchatted me a picture where his face was replaced by the sleepy one saying it's too early to be time for work again. I didn't reply. I posted another story so he knew I wasn't too busy. But I didn't reply. Willpower going strong.

Acceptance...weird.

So I had this crazy idea the other day. I'm going to submit a blog post on Thought Catalog, my favorite blog of all time. I stumbled upon it after Levandis and I broke up, and there seemed to be a lot of good stories, tips, and ideas for the broken hearted. There are also a bunch of cooler stories on there that have absolutely nothing to do with douchey ex-boyfriends who never deserved you. It's a fabulous balance.

In SCI 210, we were told to write a 3-5 page paper on a belief that we have. It was key that this belief was one we held dear to our hearts and truly would fight for when given the chance. I wrote about the idea that love has a shelf life. I honestly believe that love has a shelf life. The kind of love you feel now expires and/or changes as time passes. It's natural and scary, but it's totally okay. I don't love my parents the way I used to. I used to love them for their unwavering kindness, their support, both financially and emotionally, and the effort they put in to raise a wonderful human being. Now I love them for their unwavering support in everything I do, their acceptance that their baby is no longer a legitimate baby, and their effort to make sure I continue on the right path. My love for some people has expired. The love I felt for Kris in the early stages of our relationship is long gone and has since been replaced by a feeling of indifference. It's unfortunate to think that I may have actually loved someone and that love is completely nonexistent now, but it's okay. I've accepted it, just like I've accepted the other loves that have since changed or gone away.

I decided to put these ideas into a blog post that I was going to post here, but once I finished, I realized that it should be good enough to post elsewhere too. These posts don't get seen by anyone. It's my version of an electronic diary that can only be seen by eyes other than mine if someone is actively searching for it. Let's be honest. No one on this planet cares enough about me to actively search out my thoughts and feelings, especially when there's so many other entertaining things to look for on the internet. Fat people falling down. 'Nuff said. After finishing this post and reading through it a few times, I thought it was good enough that other people should read it too, and what better place to post it than on one of my favorite blog sites?

So I made some final touches on the piece and submitted it to Thought Catalog on Monday morning. Here I am, Wednesday morning, sitting at my boring desk job checking my emails. The first thing I see is an email from a Thought Catalog publisher telling me my post is live on their blog! HOW. FREAKING. COOL. I feel like my entire Wednesday is made now. I don't even care that I have to stay here doing nothing until 2 pm. Well, maybe a little. It kind of sucks that I have to stay here. But it's totally fine because I'm a published blogger. That's not really as big of a deal as I'm making it out to be, but I'm proud of it. I've always loved to write, especially my feelings. It's the best way for me to get them out. Levandis used to hate me writing notes and letters to him, but they're the best way I can show how I truly feel about someone.

Lately I've felt exceptionally happy. I'm not sure if I'm finally growing into my own skin comfortably, or if I'm still relishing in the island bliss I enjoyed for a while. Either way, happy looks good on me. Really good. Since I've been back, I feel like I've gotten hotter, my patience is slightly more controlled, and I avoid drama and confrontation at all costs. Josh forgot to take me to the airport after weeks of planning and begging, didn't really apologize, didn't wake up for breakfast on Sunday, and is seeing Bella again, but guess who doesn't give a flying fuck? Me. This girl. Right here. That's new. Very new. I've always been the kind of person who needs a plan and who needs to have an idea of what's going on every day. But lately I've been taking everything day by day. The only set schedule I have is Taco Tuesday and work. The rest of the day has an open agenda. I have ideas of things I want to accomplish every day, but if they don't really get done, I don't mind. I hold out until the next day I have free time. If I want to come home and take a nap, I do. If I want to binge watch Grey's Anatomy all day, I do. If I want to stay out until 2 am knowing I have to be up at 6 for work, I do. This morning, I came to work wearing a pretty flowy pink blouse tucked in to a pair of khaki shorts with tan heeled sandals. Why? Because I fucking can. I'm normally so self conscious about what I wear. "Should I wear heels or will they look weird? Will people ask questions? I hate when people notice an upgrade in my style. I'm uncomfortable when I'm called out on looking decent." Today, I didn't care. I put flip flops in my backpack assuming I would change as soon as I got in the building, but it's 10:15 and my heels are still on. Who is this girl? This is NOT Chicago Cheyenne. This is Hawaii Cheyenne on a permanent vacation in the city. And I like it.

I no longer miss people besides Millie. Before I left, Levandis and I started sleeping together, and when I wouldn't hear from him for a day or two, I would get anxious, and honestly, I would get a little angry. Why do you text me only when you need something? You need money, weed, or sex, and then I'm your go-to. If none of those three things are involved, I just don't hear from you, or our conversation remains short. I don't want to be that girl. I don't want to be used. I let him use me for a year and a half with little to no payback, and while I used to be okay with not getting anything in return for my favors, I'm not okay with it anymore. It's annoying and mildly insulting. I'm not a doormat. I refuse to be treated as such. I felt empowered giving him only $6.00 the other day when he realistically needed $20-40. I felt like I was finally doing something good for myself by saying no. When I went to NIU with Mill and he wanted head when I came back, I told him I would let him know, but went home and went to bed instead. More empowerment. I am woman, hear me roar. Alright, maybe that's slightly overdramatic, but hey. I'm impressed with myself. Although I still think about old friends and exes on occasion, it is no longer in the way I thought about them before. I don't long for their presence in my life.

I no longer feel connected to the same world I was in before I left. I was an anxiety attack waiting to happen at any given moment. After a week of adventure and relaxation, I've calmed down in every way possible. I'm at peace with being alone. I have no sex life, I don't talk to any boys besides Levandis and an occasional Snapchat from Brian. I keep my clothes on in every selfie I take regardless of who it's going to. I'm growing. I no longer find joy in begging for people's attention and affection. I've started to put a heavy focus on my future. I already started a Hawaii fund for 2017. I plan on organizing my life during the remainder of the week so that once Fall hits, I'm prepped for school. I've already started updating my planner daily, even if there aren't many things to put in it yet. I'm getting on track. I spent my freshman year of college hanging on to a boy who was constantly letting me go. I spent my sophomore year of college stalking his social media, then using iPhone apps to find new love. And when I did find that new love, I spent too much time obsessing over him and his indecisive nature. I was dumb. I was a dumb college kid who cared more about a social life than my GPA, and in turn, my career took a minor blow.

Now it's time for me to grow up and get over being a teenager. I'll be 21 in a couple of months. I want to go out and get very very drunk with my friends. I want to sleep off a hangover for the next two days after that. Then I want to get up and go to work and start the adventure of NCC Welcome Week. And the following week, my life will truly take a different path. Organization, motivation, and perseverance. I'm not going to worry about who I'm dating, who I'm fucking, or who I'm wishing for. I'm going to worry about me, what grade I'm getting in physics, and what job I'm working over the weekend. I wasn't raised to a be a lowlife, and although I don't think I've sunk that low yet, I don't plan to even tip on the edge. I'm going to do me, and I'm going to be a better person because of it. The one thing Levandis was right about is that you have to be able to be happy with yourself by yourself in order to let someone else in and to let someone else make you happy. I think I'm finally starting to find that honest happiness, and nothing has ever felt better. I am striving to be a dynamic being that refuses to settle for stasis.

WAC Confessions

Well it's Monday again. During the summer, I truly believe that Monday's are the longest day of the week. During the school year, it's Wednesdays. Wednesday's are always my super long school days, and they feel like they never end. During the summer, it's Monday, and this Monday in particular is rougher than usual. It's been an eventful week, and I really don't think my body has caught up from the jet lag of last week yet. They say that the amount of time it takes to recover from jet lag is equal to the number of time zones you went through, but that's for the normal traveler. If you're me and you don't stop moving even after you get home, then it seems to take a little longer. Either that or I'm dying.

Mill and I did a lot last week. Although I slept the entire day on Sunday, I was consistently moving for the rest of last week. On Monday, I got up early for work, stayed an extra hour and a half, then spent the rest of the day at Millie's doing absolutely nothing but being lazy. I didn't sleep, but I did sit in the passenger seat with my feet up. Tuesday, I got up for work early again, stayed until 12:30, came home and relaxed, then went and saw Magic Mike XXL...bc $5 Tuesdays duh. Rightfully so, I watched a group of half naked men grind and dance on other women, then went and got some tacos...bc Taco Tuesday duh. Seriously, who would voluntarily miss out on Taco Tuesday? Wednesday, I got up early for work (more patterns), stayed until 12:30, then spent the entire day running errands with Millie. Again, no sleep. I didn't go to bed until almost 3 in the morning because of course we procrastinate life and decided to go to Wal-Mart at 10:30 pm to get pasta salad stuff, then stay up all night making it. I also got poison ivy and fifteen million mosquito bites from weeding with her family. If I don't have chronic jet lag, I probably have West Nile...awesome. Thursday, Mill and I spent the day at Six Flags...bc bring a friend free duh. I finally got to ride Goliath, which was awesome by the way. Definitely the best ride at the park. I totally recommend it to all of you who are not reading my blog because no one reads it. We also took an impromptu trip to Dekalb so Mill could show me NIU. It's a beautiful place with a beautiful campus, but it's definitely not for me. It's too big, first of all, and I personally think NCC is much prettier. There's trees, beautiful architecture, a river, and beautiful scenery overall. At NIU, there's a lot of buildings that look the same, huge gaps of nothing but corn fields, and a horrid smell if you're anywhere but campus. It's not for me. It's just not. Finally, we spent our Friday downtown at The Taste. This was probably the best thing we did all week. We stuffed our faces with delicious samples, opted for repeatedly going back to the Mountain Dew free samples instead of buying an actual pop, and we ran on full stomachs to catch a train we realistically could've walked to. I then played chauffeur (as always) and drove her to Posen to get her hair done, then stayed there with her until Tony came home. It was definitely an eventful week.

The weekend was just as fun and slightly more laid back. Saturday was a total lazy day. I slept until 11, didn't get out of my pajamas until almost 3, and then did three loads of laundry around 4. The entire day was spent watching Grey's and cuddling with my dog. I hope you didn't expect something else to leave my fingers. Millie was at NIU all weekend, so of course the only option I had was Grey's and dog. Josh texted me for the first time after the vaca incident too. That was weird. He apologized, admitted he was in the wrong, and asked me for breakfast the next morning. As expected, he didn't wake up for breakfast, but my hopes were already pretty low. He's always going to be flaky, and he's never going to measure up to the kind of person I want to be with. While that's one of the saddest things I could ever think to say, it's also one of the most satisfying. I've been chasing him since my junior year of high school, and he's done his fair share of dragging me through the mud, so to be able to say "I'm giving up on you," is a big big feat. I never thought I would come to that realization, but thank God I did. I can't stand being let down anymore, especially by the same person. Although I still want to talk to him and be his friend, I know I can't depend on him for anything, so removing his toxicity from my life will be nothing but beneficial. I'll take my time in getting rid of him, and I'll probably never remove him for good, but knowing that I'm capable of admitting he's not the one both surprises and elates me.

Sunday was even more fun. Although I got up early and hungry, I still had a great day ahead of me. It was Reesie's big day, and I was super excited about it. The church part of the baptism felt like it took forever, and the deacon seemed to want to keep us there the whole day, but once the hard part was over, the party began. Jake and Mary built a beautiful home. The outside was absolutely gorgeous, and the inside was something out of a Home and Gardens magazine. They even made an effort to incorporate our small candle holder into their decor, which of course makes me happy as a clam. Yes, I totally just said happy as a clam. That's what happens when you're exhausted, bored out of your mind, and cannot think of anything clever to say to save your life. Anyways, Reesie is absolutely adorable, and I'm filled with joy the minute I see her. I never believed that there could be so much love in such a tiny human being, but you see it as soon as she looks at you, her tiny nose scrunches, and her bright blue eyes light up. She is the definition of love, perfection, and purity. I strive to set a good example for her, and I pray that she doesn't have to grow up in the environment she was born into. I constantly pray for change so that she doesn't have to fear being offensive when she wears a certain color, likes a certain type of person, or enjoys a certain thing. I hope that her parents also grow to be her friend. There's always a debate on whether or not parents should be parents versus parents being friends, and I strongly believe that people have the ability to do both. Here's why.

My Mom is my best friend. Growing up, I knew I was able to tell her anything, from getting a bad grade on a test to asking if I was pregnant because the condom came off in me. It was right around the time I started dating Levandis that I started lying to her. I never enjoyed it, but I did it so often that I eventually stopped feeling guilty altogether. I wouldn't have lied if she reacted better to his offer to take me to prom, but my Mom is not pro-interracial dating. Neither is my dad, but he just didn't say anything. I knew that it killed both of them to know I was falling for someone who wasn't white, but here's the thing. Love who you love, like who you like, and hate who you hate, because at the end of the day, it's you whose stuck with them and it's you whose stuck with that feeling. No one else. Just you. If you fall in love with the wrong person at the wrong time, you get over it and move on. But if you ignore those feelings for that person, then you'll miss out on many many opportunities, and who wants to have regrets? Not me. Since Levandis and I broke up, my Mom has become a little more relaxed on the idea that I partake in interracial relationships. When I first told her that Kris was black, she was unhappy, but eventually, she stopped telling me that she was disappointed. She will never be okay with the idea that I may marry a man outside of my race. She may not attend my wedding, she may want no part in my life after that, and she may miss out on a lot of opportunities to be a mother-in-law and a grandmother, but that's her choice. At the end of the day, I need to make me happy, not someone else.

With that being said, I think parents are capable of being friends too. It may not be the easiest, but its doable. I hope that my little Reesie Roo will be able to experience this. If she wants to date a black man, then I hope she can. If she wants to drop out of college and travel the world for a year, I hope she can. She'll always have my unwavering support with whatever she chooses to do (within reason), but I hope she gets that support from Jake and Mary too. I would've killed to have that kind of support from my already loving parents. I hope Reese is never limited by her parents preferences, or the preferences of her family in general. I hope she can be whoever she wants to be without fear of being rejected. She has such a big heart for such a tiny person, and as she grows, I would hate to see that go to waste.

That was my Sunday. Visiting my sleepy little girl, hanging out with my family, and enjoying some great food with great company. Who could want anything more? I can't wait to go back to Mary's this week and get some one-on-one Reesie time. So so stoked. I was hoping this post would take a little longer than it did, but here I am with a little over an hour and a half left with nothing to do. I guess I'll check Facebook again, decorate a Hawaii fund envelope, and maybe read some more of my book. This blogging thing is starting to grow on me, and maybe some day I'll publish it publicly. As for now, I'll leave it as a nice online diary that no one reads but me. Oh, and I fixed the fax machine. I just wanted it to be known that I am a hero.

Love Always Wins...Except When It Doesn't.

As I'm sitting here at this boring desk job, scrolling through my typically boring Facebook newsfeed, I've come across an abundance of posts praising the legalization of gay marriage in all 50 states, most of which come equipped with the hashtag, #lovealwayswins. As I sit here reading the endless #lovealwayswins posts, I'm forced to wonder, does love actually win every time? 

The answer? No. Love doesn't always win. If love always won, I wouldn't have been swiping through Tinder a week ago looking for love or a hookup or whatever I think I want to find on an app. The truth is, love doesn't always win. The overwhelming happiness you get when you see him, the way your eyes light up when you catch even a corner of his presence across a crowded room, and the fullness in your heart when you just hear or see his name will never be enough to keep him. Love loses. A lot. Happily ever after is never as happy as you wanted it to be. "Love isn't like a Disney movie." Sometimes love wins, but does it always win? Psh. Some of us are lucky if it wins just once. 

I've had three serious boyfriends in the past eight years. My first relationship started in eighth grade, and I truly thought I was a rebel for getting into it since my mom told me no. Who asks there parents for permission to date anyways? Me, that's who. I thought I was in love, and even today, I think I could've been. Was it a lasting type of love? No. It was never supposed to be. Sometimes you see those chain letters that say "Most people have met the person they're going to marry in 7-12th grade. Share this or you'll never find love." I truly believed I met the boy I was going to marry in Jr. High, Ms. Caudill's English class. The first time he cheated on me, I was devastated. Why me? Why wasn't I good enough to be the only one? What was wrong with me? When he left for good my junior year of high school, I thought it was the end of the world. I loved him. I loved him with everything I had. I sacrificed things for him, I bought him the world, I did everything I could, so why didn't he stay? Well 16-year old Cheyenne, love wasn't enough. Material things weren't enough. Love didn't win, and it wasn't supposed to.

After the first one, there came a second. Levandis. I met him my freshman year of high school in Ms. Barker's second period biology class. He told me my hair was nappy every morning, and his best friend Marcus laughed and hit him and told him to leave me alone. We didn't speak besides those short, insulting encounters. I never saw myself dating a boy like Levandis, mostly because he was African American, and I knew my parents wouldn't approve. Interracial dating wasn't a thing in my family, and the only time I ever really saw it was when my friends and I walked down the street, past the Section Eight housing by St. Chris. I know that makes me sound racist and harsh, but it's true. There's no point in sugar coating the truth. My best friend in high school, Dominique, had started seeing Levandis's best friend Torian. Torian was a cocky, arrogant asshole who had little to no respect for anyone, including Dominique. One night, Dominique texted me and told me Levandis has had a crush on me since freshman year, and the rest is history. We dated for an emotional year and a half. I was constantly feeling a mix of emotions. Happiness, sadness, overwhelming love, underestimated rage. It was a constant roller coaster that I never thought I would want to get off. We broke up at least once every six weeks, I was constantly catching him talking to other girls, and I never really felt like I was his. In the end, it was better that we went our separate ways. Less than a month after he broke up with me one last time, he started dating a new girl that worked at the Home Depot in his neighborhood. He swears that he didn't know her when he and I were dating, but between a timeline of events and common sense, I know he's lying. 

With the loss of a second, a third came around. I thought he would be the one. Well, maybe not the one, but I thought he would last longer than he did. However, let me make this clear, I MET HIM ON TINDER. While that sounds alarming right now, it actually has some justification, so hang in there. Initially, I met Kris on Tinder. We swiped right, he messaged me asking for a date (a date on Tinder..wut...), I said yes, then I blew him off. I didn't intentionally blow him off. Okay, maybe I did. I don't really know how it happened. It just kind of did. It turns out that he and Steve work together, so he knew Stacie too, so the whole Tinder thing freaked me out less. They warned me not to date him which should have freaked me out, yet I did it anyways. It worked out really well for a while. We lasted for a solid three months before he changed. It wasn't my fault, even though I convinced myself it was. I noticed changes in him that I had seen in relationships past, and rightfully, I asked questions. Before I knew it, he was feeding me the infamous, "we need to talk," line, and I was running for the hills. We were apart for a week before he realized he made a mistake. Then we were together for three days before he started second guessing his realization. It was another month on that roller coaster before he finally jumped off for good. Three days later he had a new girlfriend. That's a relationship I didn't mind getting out of. I didn't even cry when it really ended. I knew. He wasn't it for me. I thought I loved him for a while, but I just loved the person he was for a temporary moment. Even the idea of love didn't win here. So when does love win? 

For me, love wins when I least expect it to. It wins when I see my best friend after a week long vacation. It wins when my puppy hops up on my lap and cuddles with me while I watch Grey's Anatomy. It wins when I hold my little Reesie Roo and she smiles with her big eyes and even bigger heart. It wins when my parents and my family tell me they're proud of me. Love wins in a lot of ways, it's just not in the way everyone wants it to be. 

I've accepted that I may never find love. I've accepted that it may take me a long time to find it. I've accepted that it may come next week when I'm waiting in line at the grocery store. I don't know when that kind of love is going to win, but I know that I'll be okay when it does or doesn't happen. After Kris and I broke up, I started speaking to Levandis again. I don't really know why. Maybe it's because I wanted there to be hope, maybe I just needed a shoulder. Shortly after we started speaking again, we started hanging out, and everything escalated from there. We now sleep together on a semi-regular basis, and therefore, I am the other woman. He's not going to leave his girlfriend for me, and even though part of me hopes he does someday, a bigger part of me knows it just won't happen. I've accepted that too. 

I have high hopes that I'll find real love someday, and I definitely have a lot of chances left. I still have two full years of my undergrad career left, two years to get my RN license, and another few years for nurse practitioner. In between, I have plenty of jobs, trips to the mall, and vacations to find my soulmate. As for right now, I'll stick to my beer, Grey's Anatomy, and my dog. They seem to be everlasting anyways. 

Just Another Crappy Day in Paradise.

This time last Monday, it was 7 am on Maui, and I was just getting up to go for breakfast before an adventure-filled day in Lahaina. This time right now, I'm sitting at this crappy desk job, doing nothing at all. I've scrolled through my Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter countless times. I've checked for new Snapchat stories at least three times, and I've scowled at opened Snapchats with no reply. The view out of my "office" window includes a few trees, some cars, a house, and a stop sign rather than mountains, the ocean, or a palm tree. I'd give anything for another crappy day in paradise.

In less than a week, I went on some of the most exciting adventures I could ever imagine going on at 20 years old. On Monday, I went 130 feet down in the Pacific Ocean in a Submarine, playing the Mission Impossible theme song of course. I saw tons of cool fish, a sunken boat, and Spongebob. Yes, I definitely said Spongebob. I also got to go shopping in Old Lahaina Town, which is something I did just about every night. On Tuesday, I biked down an active volcano. ACTIVE. VOLCANO. Is that registering? Don't worry, it will. We took a van to the Haleakala Summit at 10,023 feet. The sights were like something out of a movie or a photo catalog. I've never seen something as beautiful as the Haleakala Crater and the Haleakala Summit overlooking the island. Biking down was just as beautiful, as well as exciting. Every hairpin turn and long stretch of road lead to another wonder of the island. We road through the small town of Paia, also known as the Hippie Town because it housed most of the hippies of Hawaii back in the day. We went through "Cowboy Town" and saw ranches, horses, and a few cows (even an island has country life!). I got to learn a bunch of Hawaii facts while getting an adrenaline rush at the same time; what a day!

Wednesday was a pretty relaxed day. Lots of ocean. I went to the Maui Nui Luau in Kaanapali, and it was one of the most exhilarating parties I've ever been to. I got lei'd, tried a ton of Hawaiian food, and saw a great performance while learning some super cool history. If you haven't noticed the pattern, I learned a lot of Hawaiian history while having the time of my life in a beautiful place. I truly couldn't ask for a better combination. Anyways, the luau was awesome and a must-accomplish activity on every Hawaiian vacation. Thursday was an early day. My day started at 5:30 am and didn't end until almost 9 pm, minimal sitting time available. It started with an hour boat ride to the little island of Molokini. Molokini is an uninhabited bird sanctuary, but it's shore also serves as a great snorkeling spot. I saw tons of cool fish, coral, and sea plants. Even Nemo came up and bumped my mask. It was literally like swimming in an aquarium. From there, we headed to Turtle Town where I was face to face with a sea turtle. The cast of Finding Nemo was in front of, behind, and next to me no matter where I turned. It was the coolest thing ever, and I rarely ever think things are cool. However, that was amazeballs. Let's be honest. We then got a scenic tour back to the Harbor with some cookies and trivia as a sendoff. The rest of my Thursday was spent in Lahaina, as usual.

Friday was another exciting adventure-ziplining in Haleakala. That. Was. Awesome. I think the activities I did got progressively more awesome as the week went on, but I could just be biased. Regardless, going 40 mph on a pendulum style zipline with nothing but rocks and sharp, pointy, "I could kill you if you fell on me" forest objects was the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. At this point, I've run out of things to say, because every word that will leave my mouth from here on out will be "awesome," "amazing," or "holy shit." Again, I ended my day with a trip to Lahaina. Saturday was sad. Saturday, I left. I spent 12 hours traveling back to this hell I call home.

This piece isn't meant to bash Illinois or Chicago by any means. I do love my city, even if it's crime-ridden, smelly, and a scary place to be sometimes. All I'm saying is that there's more out there beyond these state lines. There's some definite perks about living in a small town just south of a big city. The thunderstorms are pretty awesome, I rarely see tornadoes, monsoons, or hurricanes, I have a solid relationship with my neighbors and friends from high school, I can go through a variety of environments in one day, and I like the small town-homey feel. However, I'm not defined by my town, my relationships, or my upbringing. I'm defined by my experiences, my desire to see what the world has to offer, and my utmost respect for God's creations. That's what I believe I am defined by. I've been to lots of places with different climates and types of people, but Hawaii was by far the greatest adventure yet, and I truly believe I've found my forever home. As a matter of fact, most of my morning consisted of searching for affordable flights and looking at RN programs there. The quicker I get there, the happier I will be. I'll have to leave behind my family, my friends, potential relationships, and my home. I'm still ready. I used to cry three days in to a 4-day vacation to Disney because I missed my Mom, but before leaving Hawaii, I contemplated how I could manage to stay an extra couple of days. Could I change my flight? Could I extend my stay at the hotel? In the end, I had to leave anyways, but I left knowing it'll only be a couple years until I come back.

Even if I don't make it out there for school, I will make it for my career. I will accomplish my goals and my dreams of living in Hawaii. I'll make new friends and maybe even bring some old ones with me. I'll establish new relationships and maybe even find my soulmate. I'll accomplish my goals, fall flat on my face, and cry tears of sadness and joy. I'll have a life. I won't just live, but I'll have a life. That is more than I could ever ask for. That's the only thing I want. If I never get married, if I lose close friends, if I run into some struggles, it'll be okay. As long as I have a life, I can be happy, despite the other troubles that come my way. My week in paradise was a blessing in disguise because it made me reevaluate my future and reshape it to something I actually wanted, not something I was willing to settle for. In two years, I'll be back on Maui, hopefully with a group of friends, enjoying the wonders the island has to offer, whether I've seen/done them already or not. I'll drive through neighborhoods looking for houses and seek out potential employers. If 2017 is my last year in Illinois, that'll be fine. If I spend a few more here, then at least I got a head start on my search. Regardless, the island will be my home, its people my family, and my heart filled with endless happiness. For now, I guess I'll continue working my crappy job in this crappy place, consistently wishing for another crappy day in paradise.