Just because i feel like it

i feel like crying, and i don't know why. i'm not sad, i'm actually doing okay right now. i've had lots and lots of ups and downs lately. i've cried the most i ever had this very year. and that's hard to admit to the public, i guess. and no, i wasn't crying about a boy that time. though i will say there is a boy who's on my mind a lot. he doesn't make me cry, but it sure doesn't help to think about him when i'm already crying. maybe its the fact that i can't seem to believe that i am actually good at anything. i watch shows like make it or break it, and it makes me sad, for some reason. because i want so badly to have what they have. a reason to get up at eight in the morning six days a week, a reason to train that hard. i'm not actually really really good at swimming, and that is so depressing to think about. i'm good, and i will admit it. i am a good swimmer, and i can keep up with a lot of people if i put enough effort into it. but that's the thing. i have no drive. and i have no idea how to get it. what am i working for? for college? where i may or may not actually make the team? for anything after that? what happens next? what happens to me after college is over? i don't think i would do well on my own, no, not at all. i would let myself get away with too much. right now, as hard as it is to think about, right now is the only time i have. i should be spending time at good meets, not thinking about how i can't make it. because i can. when i have the drive, i am really good. i can beat people, i can make heads turn. i'm not amazing, there are a lot of people that are better than me. but i'm also not terrible. i have the talent. i have it. and i'm being conceited. whatever, its a problem i already have, self-confidence. as in, i have none. it's one of my biggest insecurities, what people think of me. and it sucks and i hate it, because it makes me think things and do things i would never do on my own. i hate being judged, and yet i judge. my life is full of cliches, but, then again, isn't like just one big cliche in itself? i try to tell myself that things will get better. but it's really really hard sometimes. just in swimming, really. because, honestly, life is fine everywhere else. and i try to tell myself that i know why i swim. but sometimes, after asking myself this question, i am stumped. why do i swim? because i'm good? okay, i'm alright. but im so tired of being okay at everything i do. just okay, good even. whatever. i'm so so tired of being just out of reach of top three, (metaphorically speaking of course) somewhere i can be recognized. it just seems like swimming is a huge part of my life, but i am not a huge part of swimming. and that sucks. that's something that makes me hurt to think about, and it's something that is making me cry right now. the downpoint of my swimming career? when i asked my mom what i was good at. what was my race? what was the thing i swam for, the thing where i climbed into the pool and i knew exactly what i was doing, what i was going for. and she couldn't tell me. that sucked. that sucked worse than anything i have ever had happen to me before. to think that i'm not actually good at anything. that i'm only fair at everything. and it didn't bother me that much at the moment. but it bugs me incredibly now. it makes me feel like all im doing, for swimming, everything i have done, it's all a waste. what is it for, if i can't be goal oriented? if i don't really have a goal at all? i try to make goals, but they fail. it's so hard for me to finish things, and i don't know why. i have no idea why it's so hard, it just is. and it really really felt good to be able to actually descend the 400s yesterday. and it felt incredible that day at long course last year. it's a feeling i will never forget, a feeling i will never let myself forget. but i don't know how to get it back. every time i try, i fail. i overthink it, i psych myself out. and it sucks, and i don't know how to fix it. nobody told me it was going to be this hard, why is it this hard? why is it that i am the only person in the world who i can talk to about this? i try talking to my mom, to my coach, and no one can tell me what to do. it's up to me, they say. it's in my mind, they say. i have to figure it out myself, they say. well i've never really been good at being my own judge. i over analyze constantly. i
m absolutely awful at self-motivation. why am i such an optimist for others? i have no idea how to be an optimist for myself, the person who needs a little cheering up the most. and i guess i just have to live and learn. and it's hard. it's the hardest thing i've ever had to do. because it's something i've never really thought about before. and there are more bad days than good days. but i have to live for those days when i am on top of the world. and, most important of all, i have to learn that nobody, not a single person in the world, can take that away from me.

Creative writing exercise # 14- write a scene of about 500 words in which a character does something of great symbolic significance. Make sure that you know that the character has something to work out, but do not tell the reader what it is.

I stared into the mirror, unsure about whether or not I was ready to do this. Everything looked all right, and all was ready, except for me. I wasn’t sure whether or not this would be a good idea, or whether or not it would actually work. Did I really have to do it, right here, right now? When I couldn’t be sure at all whether or not things would actually be okay, and stressing myself out would just make me feel weaker. But I had to do it. I had to know what this felt like again, I had to know if I could do it or not. Regardless of whether I thought I could or not. I took a deep breath, and put my hand to my head. It was warm, and I let my hand remain there for a minute. And there it was, just as I had always remembered it. My beautiful hair, still all there, for the most part. Finally returning. Here I was, brushing my hair. I picked up the brush, letting my hands get used to the feel of the grip again. I had waited so long to do this, and now, I wasn’t sure why. My fingers gripped the brush, and I put it up to my head. I let it sink in, and gently, I pulled the brush down down down until it was all the way through my hair and out in the air below the ends. I did this again and again, until I could no longer find a single knot. My hair was silky smooth, and I was none the happier about it. Now I knew I could handle it, brushing the hair that had finally grown back had made me feel a little stronger, but not very much. I wondered what task I would have to tackle next. I thought this one would be the most difficult, but it really wasn’t. It was something I had done a thousand times before, and I hadn’t forgotten how to do it. It was like riding a bike, brushing your hair was something you never forgot how to do, not since your mom showed you how. Only when I started to think about what I had just done, what I hadn’t had to worry about for the past few months did I start to feel reality sink in. This was the worst part. The aftermath. As soon as the worst is over, it is our body’s instinct to think it over, rationalize everything. I wondered how I was going to get through this alone. I didn’t know if I could, if something as simple as brushing my hair was to be this difficult for me to handle emotionally. I closed my eyes, and let one single tear sink down without clearing it away. This was one of a million things that my sister would never again be able to do.

Creative Writing Exercise # 1: Write the first 250 words of a short story, but write them all in one sentence. make sure it is grammatically correct and makes sense.

A small white flag waved, breaking the silence that had been present for what had seemed like years; moving as the grass rippled from the warmth of the summer breeze that had just blown in, or as the trees waved their smallest branches in a salute to anyone who cared enough to look up, or as the wings of the butterfly that had just landed on the nose of a fallen comrade: a person who had a family, who had friends, who had a life to live for, plenty of things to say, to do, reasons for his heart to keep beating, for his blood to keep flowing, for his eyes to continue to have their depth and not stare aimlessly up into space, at something that no one could see and live to tell the tale about, something that made people wonder about what happened after death, after one had already passed on into the next life, when they were gone but still right in front of you; and yet, the white flag was waving, turning everything that this comrade had done equal nothing, because, as it so happened, the white flag was waving because of the wind that was rippling through it was coming from the east, from his homeland, from the hands of his supervisor, the one who had told him that he was not allowed to give up the fight lest he be 

forever labeled as the cause of the war that was plaguing his nation. 

Creative Writing Exercise # 2: Write a scene in which two characters have a secret, but neither of them reveal the secret to each other or to the reader.

I stood at my locker, praying that he wouldn’t walk up to me. It was bad enough, having to deal with this secret on my own. Why would things be any better if fate brought him right to my face? The very face that was trying it’s hardest not to cry. As he got closer and closer, I found myself creating scenarios in my head, where I told him everything that I was thinking, where I could tell him anything I wanted. Except I didn’t want to tell him everything. Not just yet, anyway. All I really wanted him to know was one thing. Just a few words, that were small, and meaningless, yet they meant everything in the entire world to me. And I wished that I could tell him. But I couldn’t. And as he continued getting closer, all I could think about was how much I wanted to avoid this confrontation.

I walked closer to him, avoiding eye contact from everyone around me. I wished that this could be easier, talking to him. It never had been this weird, this tense, this difficult to talk to him. We were friends, and I never thought that things would be this way. He had been there for me, through all the girlfriends I had ever had, all the nights I had spent drinking myself into oblivion, he had been there. We had just talked, like a couple of guys. Like a couple of friends who knew that all we had to do to get through these hard times was stick together. And I had been there for him, too. When his girlfriend had dumped him just two weeks ago, he had been devastated. He didn’t know what to think, what to say to me, I had just been there for him. It was one of the greatest friendships I had ever been in, this one. And it completely sucked that the world didn’t recognize our friendship as they recognized other friendships. No, two guys couldn’t talk all the time, or hang out all the time, or talk like the best friends they were. We had always run the risk of being called gay, or homos, but it had never been like that.

But now it wasn’t even like a friendship. Something since that Saturday night; it had changed everything. All the things that had been said, all the things that had been bitten back. All the things that had happened, all the things that hadn’t. I approached him, and leaned against the locker next to his. I tried to force a smile onto my face, but when I saw the terrified look on his, I decided against it.

“Hey.” I choked out.

“Hey.” He whispered. I could see in his face that it pained him to sit here and attempt to have a normal conversation with me. I didn’t know what he was hiding, but I felt like he could see right through me. I felt like he could see right through my trying to play it off as cool, like he could stare right through my eyes and right into my brain. Where he could see all of the things I was dying to tell him, the thoughts that Saturday night had only pushed more to the surface.

He had made it all the way to my locker. And here he was, right in front of me, leaning against Megan’s locker. The very same Megan who I had cried to him about for hours on end. And he had just sat and listened. That was what made this the hardest. He knew so much about me, and he probably didn’t even know that he was on Megan’s locker. But if he did know, he probably would immediately apologize. And tell me that it didn’t matter anyway. And even though talking about Megan only caused bad feelings to rise he would know how to make me feel better. And that’s what made it suck the most. He was such a good friend, and he would be the person who I would talk to about awkward moments like this. Because he would laugh it off with me, and help me to laugh it off too.

But now it was just awkward. And I knew he hiding something, but I couldn’t tell what. and I could tell that he was looking through me, seeing all the feelings I was feeling right now. And I knew he probably knew that it pained me to sit here and pretend things were normal. And I hated that he knew so much about me. And at the same time, having someone that knew so much about me, possibly more than I knew about myself sometimes, was something that I knew not many people got to experience, and I was not willing to let that go. And somehow, he was slipping away from me. I closed my locker, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t I sighed.

“How did we get like this Aaron?” I asked him.

He shrugged, and, removing his elbow from Megan’s locker, ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed, and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know Ellis.” He replied.

Ellis was looking at me, staring into my eyes, waiting for me to explain the reason. As if I knew any more than he did. How does one go from being such good friends to something like this? And I wanted to tell him, because I think I knew what was making it awkward for me. All the things I wanted to spill to him. But I couldn’t. Not here, not now. And I had no idea how he felt, but I knew how I felt and what I felt right now was a desire to talk to him. I really just wanted to let everything off my chest, because now everything was weighing down on me, pushing me into the ground, willing me to fail. And I knew that I wouldn’t be able to survive this way for long. I knew that sometime, I would have to tell him, or else things would always be like this. And I was not willing to lose a friendship that meant so much to me, just because of one little secret.

I stared Aaron down, willing him to tell me all the answers. But he remained silent, lost in thought. I wondered why he wasn’t speaking to me. Things had never been this quiet between us. Hell, the only quiet moments we had had were when I was brooding about Megan, and he was sitting with me, knowing that what I needed most was peace and quiet. And that was what made this awkward silence even worse. The fact that he wasn’t talking, even when he knew I could see right through his eyes, see how uncomfortable he was feeling.

After a few minutes, reality kicked in. I knew that staring at him, willing him to solve everything, was not going to do any good. So I blinked, and moved my gaze to the floor. I waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, I sighed.

“Aaron, I-’’

“No. Ellis, I’m sick and tired of this. Obviously we aren’t ready to talk right now. And after everything that happened, it makes sense. Okay? Let’s just either be completely honest, or end this, right here, right now. Just tell me right now, either let everything off of your chest, or we can’t be friends anymore.”

Ellis sighed, and moved his gaze up to the ceiling. After a moment, he looked at me, and smiled wistfully. “I have to go to class.” he said, and he turned and walked away from me. My eyes welled up, and I stared at the receding figure that used to be my best friend. And all of a sudden, I was pissed off. At Ellis, at myself, at the world for letting this happen. I sniffed, and turned around. Screw math class, I was going home to eat Breyer’s, and drink some of my parents’ scotch.  No, all of my parents’ scotch. And I would go into my brother’s room, and smoke some of his pot, because right now I needed to relax. I would deal with his wrath later. Possibly while I was high. All I would have to do was give him a hundred bucks, and he would forget the entire thing. I wasn’t the kind of person who was into getting high, but right now, I needed something to calm my nerves. I knew my limits, and I was nowhere near becoming addicted to anything. I hadn’t ever smoked enough of anything to become addicted. And I wasn’t planning to now. I would smoke just enough to get myself away from the extreme sadness that would eventually sink in. I just had to make it home before the reality that I had just lost my best friend set in.

As I walked away from Aaron, it took all of the strength that I had not to look back. But it was better this way. It was better to keep my secret, and forever avoid the risk of rejection. I wanted to cry, but I knew that I had to get to English. The fact that it was my best subject, the one that came so easily, it might help me to get past everything that had happened. As I heard a door slam, I knew that Aaron was leaving. And it was no surprise to me, he was probably going home for the rest of the day. He might even be drinking some of his parents’ scotch. Maybe even smoking some of his brother’s pot. And I felt a knot in my stomach, hating the fact that I knew exactly what he was doing. I hated that I knew that right now he was probably tapping his fingers on the dashboard, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, and thinking about the mint chocolate chip Breyer’s he was going to have when he got home. My eyes filled up with tears, and I turned from the hallway and into the bathroom.  I took a deep breath, and blinked a few times, willing my eyes to dry.

As I zoomed out of the parking lot, I tried to think of other things, but I found that my mind only wandered onto what Ellis was probably doing. He was probably getting ready to go to class. If he wasn’t upset at all by the loss of our friendship. If he was actually upset, he was probably in the bathroom, staring at his reflection, willing himself to calm down. Because he would never dream of leaving school early. Not like me, who would leave whenever I felt like I couldn’t handle it all. School would just upset me more. I would find myself staring off into space, or, more embarrassingly, starting unknowingly at someone. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, and, honestly, I would probably miss more of the lesson than I would by going home. But not Ellis. He had always said that school helped get his mind off of his problems. He had told me that focusing on schoolwork was easier when he was upset. He was weird, that was it. I sighed, and tapped my fingers on the dashboard, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. Mint-chocolate chip Breyer’s. That was all I wanted to think about right now. I decided against my brother’s pot. It was better to just drown my sorrows in ice cream, than to run the risk of getting into trouble with my parents or my brother. Whatever, it was a chick thing to do, but I would drink some of my dad’s hard scotch to make it a little less weird.

I decided that I was almost ready to leave the bathroom, but all of a sudden the reality of the situation sunk in. I hadn’t told him, I would never tell him. Aaron would never know how I felt, and I would never know if he felt the same way. And that came crashing down like rain in one of those sudden summer thunderstorms. I slowly walked out of the school and into my car. Only when the door was safely shut, the windows were rolled up, the radio was playing, and my seat was leaned all the way back did I allow myself to cry.

I could not remember ever feeling this awful. Not even Breyer’s was tempting me right now, and I just wanted to lie down and forget about everything. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was Ellis’s face as he walked away. He didn’t know, he would never know. And that wasn’t okay, but I supposed it would have to be. We weren’t going to be friends anymore, and I didn’t know how I was going to take that. So I closed my eyes and tried not to let the tears come.

THE END. 

paris

Paris is my personal heaven on earth.

I loved everything about it there. I loved the way that whenever you entered a café, people would greet you with a friendly “Bonjour!” and then when you left, they would chirp a quick “Adieu!” I loved how they served all of the coke in glass bottles. I loved how, even though it was cold, walking was still the main means of transportation for most people. I loved how there were famous landmarks mixed in with the modern city streets. I loved how Luxembourg Gardens, even though there were no flowers in it, was still gorgeous. I loved how they showed British news on the television. I loved how I could translate some of the words I saw, and I loved hearing people speak French on the street. I loved how the Louvre had such incredible paintings, and I loved seeing all of the different museums. I loved the buses. They were so clean, so different from the ones we have in America. I loved how the French took pride in themselves and all of the things they did. Whatever, some people take that as snobby, I take it as incredible. And fabulous. The streets were clean, and you could buy something from someone on the streets without being involved in a drug deal. I loved the food. Crepes. Ham sandwiches. I could survive on those two things alone.  Buerre sucre crepes. Ham sandwich with lettuce, tomato, butter, and bread that was a loaf on its own. French cuisine makes American food look like crap. Which, ironically, most American food is. I miss everything about Paris. The fashion. The boutiques. EVERYTHING. I loved it and I want to live there. I am counting the days until summer when I can go back. Because it was truly a glimpse of heaven. And some people think that America has everything you could ever need.

Psh. Amateurs. 

Family

This diary entry is about family, and my confusions about it.

Families make absolutely no sense to me. You have a bunch of people who may or may not have anything in common, and they are forced to love each other no matter what? well that certainly wouldn’t fly anywhere else. Friends that you have nothing in common with are actually not really good friends at all. And friends that you are angry with constantly, well, you don’t hang around them all the time. It makes no sense to me that a bunch of people can have an inseparable, unwritten bond that forces them together. And that no matter what, that bond isn’t broken. It makes no sense to me that parents have an unconditional love for their children and vice versa. Maybe that’s because unconditional love is incredibly confusing to me. I’m learning more and more as life goes on, and one very important thing that I have realized is that humans are not perfect. No, humans are nowhere near perfect. So I guess we have to accept each other for how we are, no matter what, right? Because there is nothing better?  I don’t know. And that’s what also makes no sense. If a girl is talking about you behind your back and you find out about it, if someone is saying bad things, giving bad reports about you, you aren’t friends with them, right? If somebody makes you cry, makes you sit and sob for a long time because of something that either of you has said or done, things really don’t work themselves out, now do they? That’s what makes the least sense of all to me. Families can say all this crap about each other, they can talk about how they hate each other, whatever, but at the end of the day, apparently family is all someone has. Because blood is thicker than water? Well I disagree. Except for those like my mom, and my cousin Juliet, who know me and love me no matter what, I feel like I don’t really know my family. yeah, they would stick up for me, but I don’t think that I can agree that a member of my family who knows less about me will be there for me more than a friend who I am really close to will. and somehow I am supposed to have this love for them, be willing to do whatever for them at the drop of a hat. I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all. How can a group of people just have a bond automatically? I am closer to some of my friends than I am to some of my family members. I just really don’t understand family. who knows what it is. Who knows why God gave us our families. Because everywhere I look, it looks like families are dysfunctional. Maybe  families are life lessons, or a way to teach us about the future, really, I have no idea. But then again, I think the internet knows the most about me. I post things on the internet that I wouldn’t dare tell family or friends. Nothing bad, but things that I am sensitive about, things I am confused about. I don’t know. I should go to bed now. More later? I think so. 

i think i will do a diary entry thing like this every day.

it certainly is benefiting me.

Sometimes I lie awake and I just wonder. I wonder how things have changed already, and how they are destined to change much more. Who knows what will happen to me next year? Things that happened last year are stupid little things in the past, and the future is only a hazy fog in the distance. I like to think that I know what is going to happen to me in my future, but, truth be told, I have no idea. I don’t know when I will finally get a first kiss, I have no idea when I will lose my virginity, I have no idea whether I will get pregnant at a good time or a bad time. I don’t know if I will ever be so drunk that I pass out, and I have no clue whether I will have good enough friends that will not exploit me while I am higher than the sky. I like to think that I will make good choices, and I think I will. But there is no way of knowing. There is no way of knowing who likes me at this moment, or who is thinking about me before they go to bed. I don’t know if the person I like will ever like me back, and I have no idea what goes on in people’s minds. I like to think that people think a lot like me, and I use my experiences in their places so that things they do will make sense to me. And that’s one of my biggest problems. I put words in other people’s mouths, and I put thoughts into other people’s heads. And I wish I didn’t. it just comes naturally to me. And I wish I could stop. But I suppose I will have to work on it.

Sometimes, I wish I were better at going after what I want. I have never been a very aggressive person. I hate fighting, and i am not aggressive enough in my swims, etc. I don’t know what makes me tick, and even if I figure it out, I can’t just summon that feeling when I need it. it just comes sometimes. In waves, whatever. All I know is that the best feeling in the world happened to me last year, at long course practice. I was swimming a set that was particularly difficult, but it was going really well for me. And things just so happened that I was the only one left in my group who was still going in this set, and even though I had the opportunity to stop, I didn’t. I went through another round, and I made it, and it was the most fabulous feeling I have ever had. That feeling, that people were proud of me, were surprised at all of the things I could do, that was an incredible feeling that I would not trade the world for. And I had some sort of drive, and aggression that day, and I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to get it back. And I really wish I did, because there really are not enough moments like that in my life. I feel like I need some more incredible moments to balance the ones in which I am sobbing because I feel like everything is crashing down on me when I have no courage to push against it and pick myself back up. And it seems like things are just getting harder, and I am losing that drive even more. I really hate the things that are taking over my life. The internet, and all that comes with it. it controls my life. Just look at me now. Writing at 10:47, wasting sleep time I was crying about not having this time a year ago. But I have changed. Because last year I didn’t do nearly this much writing. And last year I did not think about my future, or what I wanted to do. I actually have to thank the internet, because it is showing me things about myself that even I didn’t know. My writing has gotten so much better, which is great. (though I do owe some of the credit to my English teacher). I am writing all kinds of different things, and just looking back at the language I am finding myself using, such as the language in this very passage, it takes nothing. It just flows out of my brain and onto the keyboard. And I never want to stop writing. Like now. I don’t want to stop. But I suppose I should, seeing as it is almost eleven. So, to end this diary entry thing, I am changing, but learning much more about myself along the way. 

a tiny little taste of my mind

I’m insecure. I feel like everything I say is questioned by everyone. I have my moments, where I feel like I am on top of the world, but those moments are usually the ones where I end up feeling like an insignificant little detail in a universe of creativity. The things I think are the stupidest things I say, those are the ones people laugh at. Those are the pictures people on tumblr want to reblog. Those are the statuses on facebook that many people like. and I guess that’s how life is, isn’t it? the things you least expect to happen are the things that probably will happen. The thing you said quietly to yourself, that you thought was just a simple statement, that was the one that made the person sitting next to you to laugh. But the thing that you cracked up about, possible the thing that you didn’t actually think was funny, that you said because you thought others would think it was funny, that is the one that no one laughs at. Things just happen, and you don’t even realize it. I used to think that all I could write was fiction. And fiction being stupid little stories that I was never able to finish. But that was the old me. The one who believed that middle school would never end, and I would never be popular. The one who thought that boys who talked to me didn’t talk to me because they simply wanted to talk to me, but they talked to me because they were insanely infatuated with me. I used to think that everyone had their place. And mine, well, mine was somewhere lost in the middle. I wasn’t the most popular girl in school, no, not by a long shot. But I wasn’t the weirdo everyone laughed at. People liked me, but I was too shy to go up to them, to say, “hey, I’m Emily, and I’m really cool, so you should get to know me.” Who knows if that would have made an impact. Who knows if I actually would have been popular. I just wish I had had the courage to speak my mind. There were so many instances and still are so many instances in which I could have said something, and I would have been correct, but I chose to keep quiet. People would have laughed along, because I am funny. People would have agreed with  me, because I am intelligent and observant. And people would have been surprised, because I am insightful. There is a lot more going on behind the scenes in me. I am a girl who loves to write, who loves to read, who loves to just sit and think about the glory and wonder of everything in the world. The earth, it has always been something that has fascinated and terrified me. I could spend hours on end just sitting in the shark exhibit in an aquarium, just sitting and watching the sharks swim and swim and swim around in circles that would make my head spin. But it would never get old. That shark whose teeth were growing so much that they were creating a row that was coming out of his mouth, that shark made me cringe but open my eyes a little wider and stare. That shark that had a different type of nose, that one was the one that made me sit and stare in wonder at the complexity and difference that every living creature is. Because everything is different. Some may argue that they are not special, but that is the biggest piece of garbage I have ever heard. Being special is not being completely and utterly different at something, or being perfect at one thing. No, being special is about being you. Because god is not limited in anything that he creates. He has a full stock of new ideas, and a full mindset to create as much as he likes. There are still things out there that humans have never seen, things beneath the depth of the ocean, underneath the ground, higher up in the sky than we have ever been. And that is incredible. I want to see it all, I want to experience it all. I want to open my mouth and taste the air, I want to be able to take someone by the hand and drag them through a meadow of flowers with me. I want to taste all kinds of different things. I want to smell salty air, and clean air, and even smoggy city air. I want to know what it feels like to live in the city, and on each coast, and in the middle of the country. I want to travel every country in the world. I want to see the slums of india, I want to see the richest places in paris and Italy. I want to scuba dive in the deepest part of the atlantic and pacific oceans, I want to learn to surf in Hawaii. I want to travel to the Maldives, to Greece, to Italy, to every country that I have ever heard of. I want to see every museum I can, even the stupid ones, like ones devoted to specific people like Jackie chan. I want to watch every movie ever made, and I want to read every book ever written. I want to write a book, and I want to have it published. I want to be interviewed on live television, and I want people to see my name and know exactly who I am. I want people to see me and say: hey, that girl is amazing. She is smart, talented, and she inspires me. I want to sign autographs, I want to be big. But at the same time, I want to stay small. I want to find the boy of my dreams, and marry the man I love. I want to carry a child, and I want to know what it feels like to have something living, breathing, and with a heartbeat inside me. I want to stay in Maryland. I want to be around all of the people I know and love, and I want to go into restaurants and have someone ask me if I have will be having the usual. I want to have a nice house, and a nice family, but not a perfect family. I want us to fight, and I want us to be honest. I want to have more than one child, but no more than three. I want to be able to relate to my kids, and I don’t want to end up as a parent who only wants time away from my children. I want my children to want to be with me, and I want to have Sunday night dinner conversations in which we discuss all of the things we disagree on. And I want my children and family to be happy. I want them to be proud of me, to say:hey, she has her life together, and I know that she is doing something right. I want to taste smell hear and see the entire world, I want to hold the universe in my hands and put it into my pocket to talk about later. And I want to have everything I could ever want in a happy family right here in my hometown. And I want to be able to do that, and I’m not sure if I will, or if I know how to. But I know I want lots of things, and these are only a few. That is my future. That is what I want it to be, but I don’t want it to be rushed. The worst thing in life is being rushed. I would like to take my time and enjoy this life so I can move happily into the next one. And maybe in that next one I will have all of the things that I missed in this one. And I will be happy, and I will smile, and I will have everything. 

The story about a girl's first time after i edited it and fixed some of the overused words.

This is a story about the first time I made love. It isn’t especially long, but it will do. The situation did not occur with my true love, instead, it just happened with a boy I felt infatuated with at the time. We've both moved on, but I think neither of us will ever be able to forget that night.

Everything started one night, when I was a little out-of sorts from my usually happy self. Jeremy and I, we had had another fight. The fight wasn’t our first, or our worst, but it certainly was enough to get me stressed out. At seventeen, if the dog had decided to walk away from me when I wanted to pet him, I would have been equally upset. However, that is irrelevant. This particular fight made me stressed enough to do something I had wanted to do for a  long time. I decided to take a bath. Nothing fancy, just me and the hot water. No bubbles, no bath salts, no scented candles. Complete simplicity, and it was the ideal situation for me.  I climbed into the bathtub, waiting for the water to grab all of my feelings and take them away. The hot water hugged me as I stepped in, telling me that I had made the right decision in taking this bath. I was ready to relax.  My parents were at the ballet, going for their date night, which they had done every Thursday since I could remember. No one was going to bother me right now. I had even gone as far as to leave the dogs to play outside, and close the door so my cats would not be able to bother me. MY ipod was in it’s lime green docking station, with all my newest favorite songs playing loudly. I sunk deeper into the water, with the water at eye level. For a minute, I pretended I was a crocodile, lurking in the water, just waiting for someone to come along. After a few minutes of this though, I leaned my head against the back of the tub, and closed my eyes. And then, for some reason I can’t think of, I opened my eyes for a moment. And standing directly in front of my eyes was the very person I had wanted to see the most. Jeremy. My Jeremy. Here, wearing only his boxers. With me, absolutely naked in front of him. Not a single bubble to hide my shame. There was nary a candle in sight, nothing to dim the view. And no candles to dim the view. Just me. And no words were spoken. Jeremy stood still, with his hair messed up, and slightly out of breath. He stared directly into my eyes, which made me a little uncomfortable, but also made me happy that he wasn’t looking anywhere else. He slowly walked toward the bathtub from the doorway, and climbed in with me, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time, waiting for me to stop him. We had never gone this far before. Not to say we had been angels, but he had never seen me this naked. I blinked, letting him slide in next to me. And then he kissed me. Gently. And I kissed him back. And the rest is history. I won't get into nasty details. And when things were over, I leaned my head on his chest, and slid my hand under his back to pull the drain in order to get rid of the water. And we lay there, my head on his chest, his arms over my shoulders .And still we said nothing. And all of the water drained. And I looked up, and laughed at Jeremy's boxers halfway in the toilet. And he laughed too. And he laughed, and touched my purple socks with his toes. And I giggled, and then sighed. And I listened to the song playing, which was 'I Kissed a Girl' by Katy Perry. And I snorted at how unromantic the song was. And Jeremy laughed too, and thenkissed me again. And then he untangled his arms from mine, and climbed out of the bathtub. And I sat up, and he kissed me again, all the while putting on his boxers. And as we broke apart, our lips madethat embarrassing smacking noise, and we both laughed. And Jeremy kissed me on the nose, and then he walked away. And no words hadbeen said. And I leaned back against the bathtub, with my knees against my chest. And I smiled. And then I got up, and dried off, and got dressed. And I smiled the entire time. And I put on pjs, let the dogs back inside, and I went to bed. And my parents came home an hour later. And I was asleep. And Jeremy didn't call the next morning. And we had a fight two days from then. And our relationship was perfect for one more month, imperfect for two, and we broke up exactly three months from that day. And we moved on, and we were still friends. And I graduated, and he graduated, and we went to separate colleges. And we don't talk anymore. But ever so often, I feel like taking a bath. And I know that I am thinking of him, and I know that sometimes he is thinking of me.

merrr stuff is stuff i fixed, red stuff is stuff that autocrit told me to fix but i decided not to.