Learn

I've learned something. And I feel that's the greatest thing a person can do: learn. For learning is compromising, not yourself, but rather compromising the idea you once had of what something was. . .what something meant. At seventeen, I'm doing more than my fair share of learning.

Learning that maybe Konrad sees me fitting in his life, but not in the original spot I had thought. Maybe he's right, maybe I'm right--or maybe we're learning that it's just a difference in perspective. A difference in how I view myself and where I view myself. Perhaps it's he who views himself differently, clouding his judgement enough to say "sorry, no" when I ask him if he feels the same. But what are feelings?

What is this need to validate how we feel? Why do we seek it in other people? If for once, humanity validated one another's feelings, our world would forever be changed. We would learn. Learn to coexist, learn that maybe (just maybe) you don't need to agree with someone's feelings to respect someone's feelings. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten frustrated because someone's told me I "shouldn't feel that way." You know what I can tell you? The number of times I've used those vicious words against another person since then. . . . It's easy to remember numbers that don't exist.

That is my learning, and that's the truth to it all. That I might not understand how someone feels. Perhaps I might not even agree with it. But that gives me no right to invalidate their feelings. Feelings are personal, they ought not to be changed, altered or interfered with. They are simply felt.

Learn not to question others' feelings, but to accept them. Do the same for yourself. Learn.

Not my game to win

I can hear the questions buzzing inside their heads. What does she think she's doing? Posting a picture with her midriff and cleavage on full display? It's like she's advertising herself. . . that's why she was raped. She must've been doing the same thing.

I can hear the thoughts as a few brave souls hit the like button on Facebook. As the few brave souls venture that maybe, just maybe, the raped girl has feelings. Maybe the raped girl enjoyed taking a selfie after two years of grueling workouts to transform herself from the girl that man once knew into the woman she finds crying back at her in the mirror today.

Little miss raped girl is all too public about her experience. Rumor has it she even liked it. Went to the cops? She's out of her mind. I heard she got pregnant. An abortion? Yeah, heard that too. Someone said she was a virgin. . .finding it hard to believe with that picture. 

. . . .Their thoughts never leave me. Their voices never hide.

It's so damn frustrating living behind this curtain of uncertainty. I'm just too damn tired of feeling like I just can't catch a break. Don't show enough skin and I'm intimidating--I'm the religious fanatic. Show too much skin and suddenly I'm a whore.

I can't win.

Stranger

Stranger danger. We're taught the warning phrase from an early age, to remind us that those whom we don't know are a potential threat. At seventeen, I'm finding this to be more true than ever. A new boy suddenly walks into my house and subsequently into my life. . .and I'm terrified. What did he think it meant when I asked him if he wanted to do something fun before he went to bed? Or better yet, what did I mean?

We found ourselves playing ping pong as the conversation progressed. Less than 24 hours after meeting him, I'm finding it hard to still call him a stranger. But he still remains a threat, no doubt. A threat to my privacy, to the casual relations I've been having with a friend. He arrives, and suddenly all my thoughts of other boys leave me. His hands find mine as my eyes get lost in his. He moves closer, giving me every opportunity to back away, yet I know I can't back down.

He threatens the stance I've taken against boys after a recent poor encounter with the male species. He admits his emotions and doesn't hide from his life choices. This stranger finds me questioning not only the rhythm we've morphed ourselves into, but also the reason I allowed the rhythm to develop in the first place.

Maybe it's him, or maybe it's my mind challenging me to denounce what I've been taught for so long. Maybe he's not the danger, pouring water over the promises of chastity I've recently chalked up. Or maybe, just maybe, the danger is within me as I try to decide who's more of a stranger, the boy I've just met or the girl I've finally become.

I Won't Believe That Romance Is Dead

We don't know what romance is. Our generation is fond to the idea of love, but this concept of romance is so far lost on us. We know lust, some of us even know love. We know the eagerness and yearning we have for someone we know we'll never have. We know the heartbreak and soul crushing pitfall of learning that what we love and who we love don't match up.

Dates and courtship have been replaced with hookups and 'game'. And that's just what it is to most people these days--a game. Dating used to be a concept in which two engaged in a relationship, hoping for the ultimate goal: marriage. Yet nowadays, relationships are seen as disposable. People are dispensable. The idea of a relationship is lost upon us all.

We have relationships with friends, we have relationships with superiors. We constantly engage in relationships, most of which we guard ourselves from. Name one person who knows every single one of your deepest secrets. If you can think of two (aside from your therapist and mother), you're in the vast minority. Most can't even think of one. We keep ourselves guarded so that when the relationships fail (because our generation undoubtedly feels it will), we've still got a piece of ourselves to hold onto.

We need to retain a piece of ourselves, for we fear giving it all to one person. We remember the love of our life from the 7th grade, the one that ripped up the post-it-love note we gave them on Valentines Day. We think of the fact that the divorce rate in our country is over 50%. We're taught to think that people and relationships are simply disposable. Don't put too much time nor effort into it, for you're only fooling yourselves.

What happened to believing in love the way Disney characters did? What happened to playing "house" as children and accepting two mommies, two daddies or one of each? It's crazy to me that six year olds are more interested in marriage than 26 year olds who've been dating for four years. 

Instead of chastising today's generation for our lack of emotional depth within relationships, let's set a different standard. Let's recreate a culture built off of romance. One in which both men and women hold doors open for one another. One in which women cover up and look classy and respectable for dates. One in which maybe, just maybe, we begin to believe in love once-more.

Piece of My Heart

We were on a college visit, both from different places, but for the same reasons. We wanted to get away. You had a graduating class of 15 and I belonged to a class of 515. You were a southern gentleman, I, a Yankee angel. You were tall, I was short. We couldn't have been more opposite. . .you said you liked the way I laughed. So we smiled for those two hours, allowing our hands to hold as we refused to let time slip past us. I forgot to give you my number. But we'll never forget.

We were on a plane together. Both from different towns going to different places. You were going to a new home as I was on my way to the only home I'd ever known. We talked about sports and college and the crazy summer sun that refused to let up. Your eyes pierced mine. My head touched your shoulder just minutes before we touched down on the ground. Coming down from a high like that with a beautiful boy wasn't easy. I couldn't remember which terminal I had to go to. . .so I ran. I may have forgotten the terminal, but I'll never forget your sweet disposition.

We were at a debate tournament. My partner was out of the room as we exchanged pleasantries during the nightly prelims of the competition. When the judge asked for my name and was puzzled by it's masculine connotation, you smiled at me without missing a beat to say, "a pretty name for a pretty girl". Though the judge may have voted you down as my partner and I easily defeated you, you won my heart. The next morning the clock literally stopped as we were given a four hour break. I played with a tennis ball as you played with my hair. Our teams laughed at us. Our coaches forgot where we were. But we'll  never forget.



I can confidently say that I fell in love with each of the three mentioned above. For when I say fall in love, I mean that I gave a piece of my heart to them. I was never in love with them, but I fell in love with them. There is no right or wrong time to give someone a piece of your heart, to lend someone a few hours of your time, for they'll surely give it back to you when they meet you in your dreams.

8 Things You Should Never Settle For

1. Second Best

You are number one. Period. End of discussion. Don't allow someone to put you on the back burner and turn you on and off like a light switch. You deserve to be number one, always.

2. Cheating

"If you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second.”--Johnny Depp

3. Frenemies

You have friends. You have enemies. Do not combine the two. Stop wasting your time with people you're only around because you're afraid of what will happen if you stop being around them.

4. Your Significant Other

Sure, you're not going to marry Bar Refaeli or Fabio, but that doesn't mean you need to marry Oscar the Grouch either. Be with someone who makes you happy, who's worth your time and who challenges you in all the best way. Don't lay in bed wishing you were with someone else, lay in bed knowing that you're lucky for having this person, and they for having you.

5. Bad Food

There are so many options for food in this world. Don't settle for a salad if you're craving a cheeseburger--we all know that at midnight you'll be sneaking down the stairs for Ben and Jerry's. That being said, don't overindulge. Healthy food can be good. But there are always more places to try, new grocery to go to and new farmers markets to explore.

6. Uncleanliness

Use a toothbrush. Take a shower. Slap on some deodorant. Use a vacuum. Pick up the mop. There is no excuse for living in a pigsty, nor smelling like one either.

7. People Who Don't Answer

There are always people who won't pick up the phone. Who'll say hi in person, but never make the first phone call. If they're that essential, they'll realize it. If they're not, don't waste your time looking like the crazy ex-girlfriend.

8. Boring Weekends

Sure, we all love to have a cozy weekend in with Netflix and some pizza by our lonesome. But there is no reason to be bored on the weekend. Call an old friend, meet up for drinks. Hell, go to church or a book club. Bottom line, there are always fun things to do.

Time

Time. It's the one thing we can give but never get back. Even pieces of our heart can be returned, though slightly damaged. Time is the one commodity we waste away, planning better things to do with the loads of time we've wasted planning tomorrow. What happened to today?

I'm touring colleges. Questioning what my future will hold. So transfixed on 2015 that I'm wasting away 2014. I'm terrified of growing older as I try to hold onto the past I've wished to go away for years. There's this duality--we want to be treated older while still looking younger. We want to act younger and be held to a childlike standard as far as punishment, yet we squawk when someone dare question our maturity. We wish to be mature 10 year olds who can get away with murder. . .as long as we make it home by sundown and mom's pulling baked mac and cheese out of the oven.

When I look back on my 17 years, I'm not sure what to think. How many hours have I spent blogging? Was it all worth it? In the end, what will seem "worth it" to me? At this point, I haven't the slightest of clues. I simply hope to be content as I look back on my life, knowing that if I had the chance--I'd do it all the same.