an open apology to myself 


I am sorry for the times I doubted and ignored you. I’m sorry for damaging you for what I thought was eternal. I’m sorry for allowing others to, too. I’m sorry for overworking you until you felt empty. I’m sorry for not letting you make me happy, I know you tried. I’m sorry for redirecting your thoughts and changing your views. I’m sorry for not listening and not acting upon every instruction you rightfully gave me. I’m sorry for losing you when I needed you the most. 


I’m sorry for making you feel weak when all you wanted to be was strong. I’m sorry for letting others tug on your strings whenever they pleased. I’m sorry for not guarding you with my entire being. I should’ve. I’m sorry for letting you go, only to call back for you, again and again. I’m sorry for letting you break. I’m sorry for not realizing how much love you held until I took it all away.


I’m sorry for letting you become weary and dry. I’m sorry for the rivers you’ve cried and the sorrow, only you, have seen. I’m sorry for the things you saw; the things you shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for not turning away. I’m sorry that you couldn’t speak the emotions your pupils conveyed. I’m sorry you had to sit there, watching, defenseless. I, at times, feel the same.


I’m sorry for the things I did and didn’t put inside of you. I’m sorry for neglecting you on the days you watered pining for nourishment and love. I’m sorry for letting mouths of those who mean nothing to me force themselves upon you. I’m sorry for their brittle touch and for the way it made you quiver. I’m sorry for the times you wished to scream, but said nothing at all. I couldn’t bare your sound. I’m sorry for the times you spoke too loudly and abruptly, creating no influence at all. I know you thought it would help. I’m sorry for not loving you the way you should be loved, I’m sorry for not letting others. 


I’m sorry for the way your ribs peak out when you breathe. I’m sorry for not providing adequate warmth. I’m sorry for trying to make you looking like something that’s photoshopped onto billboards; I’m sorry for only loving you when I felt that you did. I’m sorry for letting others look at you like something that’s already theirs. I’m sorry for letting you feel like instantly acquired property rather than a hidden buried treasure. I’m sorry for the hands that touched you in your coldest moments. I’m sorry that I believed that they could provide you warmth. 

I’m sorry for the times that I couldn’t avoid others’ grasps. I’m sorry for the way they gripped you; ways you shouldn’t ever be gripped. I’m sorry for not pushing back hard enough, for not defending you enough. I’m sorry that people feel entitled to your embrace. I’m sorry that they think you’re an open invitation. I wish that no meant no. Some tend to believe that no means yes, or at least that’s what they said. They thought you wanted their touch. Maybe they knew you didn’t, but didn’t care at all. I’m sorry for not loving you for what you precisely are. I wish I never expected more of you. I’m sorry for letting society conform you into a mold of something other than yourself. You are perfect, I hope it isn’t too late for you to see it. 


I’m sorry for not allowing you to be your true self. I’m sorry for seeing you worst qualities rather than your best. I’m sorry for thinking that critiquing  was the only path to bettering yourself. I’m sorry for truly believing that you weren’t ever enough for yourself, or much less the world. I’m sorry for not telling you your own worth, every morning and evening, of every day. I’m sorry for not cherishing you the way you should be cherished. I’m sorry for thinking that others could fulfill your needs. I’m sorry for seeing you as one human of the billions, rather than one of a kind. 

You are perfect and you are mine.“”


a somewhat brief letter to 2017

Dear year of 2017,

Alright life. 2016 sucked. I know you meant well and all. I know God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. I know all the reasons. I know that it gets better. But I do gotta say, when exactly will it? I really am curious.

Everyone says that a new year marks a new beginning, a clean slate.  I truly hope so. 2016 was a year that began with happiness and ended horribly. Facing death, heartbreak, and just mishaps in general; IT SUCKED.

Senior year is supposed to be one of those monumental times in my life that I look back at saying,  “what a year.” But clearly, the beginning didn’t provide that for me. Instead, it pretty much broke me to the lowest point possible. I will look back and say, “what the hell did I do to deserve that?” So it can’t possibly get much lower… Right?

So I’m asking you 2017, as politely as I can, reward me for making it through this. Let me be me. Let me be happy. Stop throwing rocks at me. Stop telling me I can do it, I can’t. Stop expecting me to be strong. Every ounce of me is worn out from staying as strong as I possibly could. I am not strong. I’m weak.

I need you to be easy, or at least easier than you have been. I need to gain my strength back. I need to be confident. I need to like myself. I need to like my life. I need to be excited for my future instead of dreading it.

Life you’ve been pretty fair to me in my 17 year span, but recently you changed your mind. Whatever I did, I take it back. Just give me my life back.

2017. Be my year. Please.


desperate to be happy blogger

why is life so God damn unfair

I mean, I think this phrase comes up pretty often, but what the hell?

How many obstacles can you throw at people until they’ve hit their breaking point?

Why do you keep doing these things that are so unfair with no remorse?

You just keep doing it over and over again.

I want to scream. I want to tell you to stop. But how on earth can I control what you do?

I can’t.

There are those days when people come up to you and tell you that God has a plan, and that everything truly will be okay if you give it time. LIFE. I keep giving you time. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. How much of my time will I give you until it’s too late?

You keep taking people away from me. You keep shortening their time. You keep breaking hearts. You keep making us sad. You keep expecting us to grow, to be better, to move on.

How am I supposed to be better when all you do is make me sad? You keep giving these temporary people and temporary places to create this temporary sense of relief. When will something be permanent?

When will anything be permanent when all you do is turn things to dust?

When will the good times stay good? When will God tell me his plan? I can seek refuge all I want, but when will I ever gain understanding?

I just don’t understand, life. What are you trying to do to me?

Things I’ve learned PT 2

The night before my first day of senior year, and last day of my high school career has arrived. My mind is crowded with anticipation, fear, and happiness all at the same time.

I’ve learned a lot about myself this year, probably more than I ever have before. Junior year brought the best and the worst out of me, and I can’t distinguish which one there was more of. My year was mostly spent happy, but also very stressed at the same time. I didn’t and still don’t know where I’m going. I’m still stuck at school for another long year. Lastly, I’m still as cynical as I was at the end of my freshman year hating every day here just as before.

There are lots of things that made it better though I must say. My family and friends were pretty great and always there when I needed them. I got a boyfriend who made my life 1,000 times better as it seemed. I have a roof over my head and a life to look forward to. The life that I’ve always spent looking forward to; a life in college. Although I’m not done taking my tries at the ACT, I have solid options and hopefully will end up happy wherever I go.

But right now what I can really say is, I take things for granted a lot. I take for granted how good life is to me just based off of singular events and people in my life. I know people who are, and have been, struggling for years. I know people who don’t know if they’ll make it another day. I also know people who have to worry for the safety of others, ALL the time. I’m pretty freaking lucky as much as I hate to admit it.

I go to a school where teachers provide and promote a well rounded education every day. I live in a house where my family provides almost everything for me without a thank you. I have friends that would jump hoops for me whenever I ask them to.

I’m failing to get to the point here, so let me state this more clearly. Life sucks sometimes, to be honest, mine right now kinda even sucks. But honestly, it has to get better. Be optimistic. If you spend years dreading what’s to come and being unappreciative to those who matter, you’re obviously going to hate life. I’m not saying I take my own word by any means, but going into my senior year I’m starting to realize life is a little bigger than just me.

There are so many things to do and people to meet, always be openminded. Life will never stay boring unless you make it that way. I sometimes feel like where I live is the worst place in the world, but then I realize how much freaking worse it could actually be. If you’re bored, switch things up.

Do what makes you happy and keep whoever makes you happier. If neither of those things happen, you’re bound to a life filled with disappointment.

As cynical and afraid I am of the year and whats to come, I know how much I’ll end up missing this time in my life. Life is easy, easier than it probably ever will be. I’ve had the same friends since seventh grade and I don’t know what life will look like without them. I live with my beyond supportive family and my mom who does my laundry every single day.

Focus less on your doubts and more on your joys. Take life as it comes to you and always work to be more. Life isn’t easy, but usually we’re the ones that are making it harder.

Life is good, God has a plan, and things will and can be better. Always do your best.




Sad Eyes

She walks around with sad eyes

Every where she goes.

People think she’s happy,

But no one really knows.


She walks around with sad eyes

Every where she goes.

She wants someone to ask her,

But no one ever goes.


Her eyes sometimes get brighter,

But the sunshine goes away.

At 10:pm in her bedroom,

Memories start to fade.


She tries her best to recall them,

But always tries too much.

Her head starts to hurt,

Her face starts to flush.


Her smile starts to fade,

Her eyes begin to flutter.


The tears that are falling drown her underwater.


The next time you see a girl with sad eyes,

Go and ask her why.

Let her tell you how she’s feeling,

Sit and let her cry.

Don’t tell her to feel better,

It doesn’t work that way.

Hug her till she smiles,

Help it go away.


The next time you see a girl with sad eyes,

Don’t you let her down.

Put her on a pedestal,

Give her a crown.

Make her feel pretty,

Make her feel smart.

Tell her she’s worth it,

Don’t let her fall apart.

Why didn’t they tell me? 

My parents raised to me into who I thought would be a strong, well rounded, enthusiastic, big hearted, cautious minded woman.

They taught me to navigate towards love always instead of hate. They taught me the importance of second chances and to give others the benefit of the doubt. But most of all, they taught me to choose wisely who I let into my life because no matter what, they’d leave their mark.

What my parents forgot to teach me along the way was the disappointment of it all. The heartbreak of losing the ones who said they’d never leave, and afterwards the doubts and worries of letting anyone else inside. 

They didn’t tell me how bad it hurt. How bad life hurt; the times it would knock me down and not pick me back up. The times where my heart grew bigger than my head, so I just let myself shatter completely.

They didn’t tell me about the walls I’d shortly build. Brick by brick they stacked up; too hard to climb and too heavy to tear down. Every time a brick was added, another piece of me drifted further and further away.

The worst of it all was, they didn’t tell me who I’d be. They didn’t tell me I’d go from a lively, optimistic girl into a walking wall inside the body of a woman. They didn’t tell me that I’d keep falling apart.

Why didn’t they tell me I’d never stop falling apart?

something I didn’t know

What I didn’t know was, you weren’t the answer. You never were.

And when I met someone else, I realized it; no one else is, or ever would be the answer to my problems.

The hollowness of my heart was my own problem, and no one else’s.

When I learned that, everything became fuller. More lively. More happy.

A relationship isn’t meant to fulfill you, it’s meant to be the cherry on top of it all.

Once your flaws and perfections are learned to be embraced rather than withheld, that’s when you’re ready.

You’re ready to be more. Not just yours, but someone else’s.

And when you do this, and it’s the right relationship, you shouldn’t feel like you’re someone else. You should feel exactly yourself, and maybe even learn a little more about yourself in the process.

A relationship isn’t meant to tear you down. A relationship isn’t meant to make you second guess your decisions. It should give you a level of certainty and comfort you may’ve never attained once before.

A relationship shouldn’t consume you, it should be just a little extra to you. It’s a tie, but it shouldn’t take over your entire life. It should just be another single part of it.

A relationship should push you to be better and feel better about all aspects of life. If your relationship isn’t doing that, it isn’t a relationship.


He told her to not think so much as he traced his fingers down her cringing back. Her mind spun with the words she couldn’t say, and the things she so badly wanted to. They sat in the backseat of the old pick up truck in the darkness of a summer night.

The car was parked in the furthest parking lot of the soccer and softball fields; the spot that he said he only took her. She felt an eerie sense of anticipation. But for what?  She wasn’t sure.

They’d been sitting for quite awhile, and all she wondered was how to find the words to say it. But she couldn’t. Her mouth was shut with a clasp so tight her eyes began to water. 

He noticed her silence but interpreted it the wrong way. He moved his hand from one section to another believing that was what she wanted. He believed that it was the anticipation masking her words, not her thoughts themselves. 

He thought it was a sexual satisfaction she desired, when really it wasn’t that at all. She wanted the words to come out of his mouth. The words she had waited for, for months and months. 

The words that originally made her drop her world and act irrationally. The words that made her abandon all that was good. The words that introduced her to a world so different than her own. 

She wanted to hear them. She wanted to feel them, and she wanted to understand them. She wanted to believe that all the decisions she made were right, she wanted to believe the hurt she caused had a purpose.

But as long as she waited, and as much as she acted, the words she longed for would never be repeated. 

The words held such an immense power over her that she would’ve done anything… and she almost did to hear their return. 

But at the end of the day, all she could see was his hands; the hands that desired nothing but a body to touch. She saw a mouth that spoke useless words that would change her perspective of them all. 

She heard nothing and felt nothing. Words turned into empty promises, and her mind held too many their her own. 


prompt #3

There’s something about the way you look at her. A way that’s so apparent to everyone around you, even me. But she doesn’t look back at you the same. She never has.

Despite that, you still keep looking with this impeccable glimmer in your eyes. Your dream, you think, standing right in front of you. Almost a fingertip away.

But I stand next to you and watch as your eyes slowly deceive you. You follow her as she drifts further and further away. All that’s left: an eerie trace of what used to be.

But you hold on, onto those little memories that seem so big now. I see them fading. But you stand gripping to them with all of your might, afraid.

Afraid  of looking beyond the closed spaces.

Afraid of walking outside your comfort zone.

Afraid of seeing what’s outside that door.

Deep down, you know. You know she walked out of that door before you even opened it, you just didn’t know it then.

I hope you see it now.

I hope you walk away.

You deserve to walk away.



another love prompt/ journals

He loved all the parts of her that she hated, and he reminded her of them almost every day. And maybe that’s why she drifted each time he told her that he loved her. Because each time he did she was reminded how much she couldn’t love herself, and how much she desperately wished to be able to. He gave her a love she hadn’t felt before. That scared her. It made her want to run.

She believed she was the epitome of destruction. So, that’s exactly what she sought out to be. Whenever things seemed to be going too well for her own good, she found a way to ruin them. She pushed with such a force that anyone who dared to love her would want to run away.

She waited for the day that someone would push back. The day that someone would tell her to stop. To tell her that they weren’t going anywhere no matter how much she tried.

But at the end of the day, no one stayed. No one pushed back. They just left.

Because of that, to her, love would always be a lie. And each time someone walked away, the words meaning became less and less.