Real Talk

Graduation is in eight days. Graduating is harder than I thought it would be, though. For that matter, going to school is harder than I thought it would be. I never thought I'd be the kind of person who got senioritis, but I did. Last week I counted up my absences to see how many classes I could still miss without needing to go to attendance school. 

I don't know where I belong and I'm stuck between two different worlds on multiple levels. The reality and the fantasy, the high school and the college, the child's and the adult's. It's kind of confusing.

I don't know if I'm happy or not, which makes me sad. But I continue to put on a mask of ignorance when inside I'm falling apart, and even though most of you know who I am, I still operate as if I'm protected by the guise of anonymity. 

I keep wondering if I will ever fall in love, if that person I probably haven't met yet could fall in love with me back, if I'll ever get married. Except I don't want to be a mother right now. Is that even allowed? I can't stand being around little children for a long time, and I don't want to be treated the way my siblings treat my mom.

I have a tendency to find scars on my arms and legs and hands and feet but I don't know how they got there, and a solid month after prom I was still hoping I'd be asked.

I love listening to Josh Groban's voice, especially when he sings in Italian. It makes me want to fly to Italy, but I have a little sister who broke my heart last Saturday when amid angry words and frustrated voices, she said, "I don't have a safe place."

I almost went to a different high school. Twice. But I stuck it out and now I can't seem to stop wondering if I'd be happier right now had I made the other choice. In the end, I can't say I regret my choice, but I still wonder.

I have horrible allergies in the late spring and early summer. My hair is brown and curly and I've been led to believe that it's my one redeeming quality. There is also a special place in my heart for the number 10.

I have fallen deeply in love with Earth and been heartbroken because it's rapidly disappearing in light of something called progress. I'm in love with the feeling of wind in my hair and wet sand between my toes. The smell of summer. Cold rain at night and warm rain in the middle of the day.

I miss the feeling of being in love with him. I got carried away but I forgot my heart and it still hurts sometimes but I think it's a good kind of hurt. For some strange reason I still refuse to give up on magic even though it's been proven again and again that it does not exist.

I'm terrified of spiders. I'm even more terrified that this post just sounds like me complaining and none of you are going to want to be my friend if you read this, because I don't think the real me is someone people are drawn to. Not very many people will really remember me in ten years. I don't show up in other people's posts and I know I shouldn't care but I kind of do. I'm not trying to make you feel bad for me, I am just trying to be real, because once upon a time I prided myself on being real and lately I only see the falseness in myself. Maybe I'll just delete this whole post. But probably not. Is this real enough for the world, or do I need to try again?