Dear anonymous,
Recently, I met a guy at school at a TEDx conference through a mutual friend. We had a good day and he managed to get my number by very stealthily getting a photo with me (on my phone) and asking me to send it to him. Not sure if that was his actual plan but, either way he got my number. He then proceeded to message me to ask me to hang out when I was on campus one day. Since I'm only there once a week we waited until Thursday but, we ended up hanging out for a couple hours. To be honest, I was really nervous because he is really funny and sweet and great looking (cha-ching!) so I had my friend "run into us" and she ended up spending a couple hours with us, too. All-in-all I had a really good time and we have been texting back and forth since.
This week is majorly hectic for me: one homework assignment, two in-class finals and also a 6 page literature review. Three of the four are due on Thursday. Awesome. So when he asked me to go see Catching Fire with him this week, it killed me to say no. Instead I told him that we could go during our exam break because I would have more time. Well... turns out I am not the most scheduled human being and I have two papers and another final that week. This is what happens when I go to school at two campuses at once - two campuses that have different calendar days.
Either way, I am thinking I'll get him on a Friday and we can hang. I'm being social for once and I am actually enjoying myself! It's going to be a long week ahead but, for once, things are looking okay. I am connecting.
Love,
Michelle
Sidenote: Had a ridiculous "fight" with my friend that same Thursday I hung out with this guy. I replied to her the next morning saying I didn't want to half-ass a response to her while I was busy. She has yet to reply. We'll see where this goes.
Showing posts with label girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label girl. Show all posts
Sunday, 24 November 2013
Sunday, 14 July 2013
Skinny mini?
Dear anonymous,
If I could be skinny for a day again, that would be ace. I've had a really exponentially terrible body day today. Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to the beach and as much as I want to get a tan, I might just feign sickness. It makes me cringe to think about showing this body to the beach world. People are going to judge me for my love handles and my cookie pouch belly and my scars. We'll just see, I guess. Maybe tomorrow I'll like my body.
Love,
Michelle
If I could be skinny for a day again, that would be ace. I've had a really exponentially terrible body day today. Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to the beach and as much as I want to get a tan, I might just feign sickness. It makes me cringe to think about showing this body to the beach world. People are going to judge me for my love handles and my cookie pouch belly and my scars. We'll just see, I guess. Maybe tomorrow I'll like my body.
Love,
Michelle
Tuesday, 23 April 2013
Easier being a boy?
Dear anonymous,
I ask myself this question on a daily basis. Would life be easier if I were a boy? Whether or not this is possible, I honestly think about it all the time.
Being a boy would mean I could sleep around and be praised for it. It would mean not having to worry about make up. Boys might have less clothing choices but doesn't that just makes their lives easier? And cheaper? Then there's the fact that they don't have periods. Or pregnancy scares. Or hell, pregnancy. They don't have to push 6-12 pounds of human out of their bodies after housing them for 9 months. If I were a boy I could skateboard. I could play video games all day and be good at it (I truly believe they have an inherent ability to play video games better). Being a boy would mean less drama, less cat fights, less body image issues.
Keep in mind, I know that being a boy isn't always easy. I get that there are the ones that have body image issues, the ones that are gay and get terrorized at school, the ones that are nerdy and awkward, the ones that are genuinely nice guys always put in the friend zone. I still think it would be easier to be a boy.
Love,
Michelle
I ask myself this question on a daily basis. Would life be easier if I were a boy? Whether or not this is possible, I honestly think about it all the time.
Being a boy would mean I could sleep around and be praised for it. It would mean not having to worry about make up. Boys might have less clothing choices but doesn't that just makes their lives easier? And cheaper? Then there's the fact that they don't have periods. Or pregnancy scares. Or hell, pregnancy. They don't have to push 6-12 pounds of human out of their bodies after housing them for 9 months. If I were a boy I could skateboard. I could play video games all day and be good at it (I truly believe they have an inherent ability to play video games better). Being a boy would mean less drama, less cat fights, less body image issues.
Keep in mind, I know that being a boy isn't always easy. I get that there are the ones that have body image issues, the ones that are gay and get terrorized at school, the ones that are nerdy and awkward, the ones that are genuinely nice guys always put in the friend zone. I still think it would be easier to be a boy.
Love,
Michelle
Monday, 22 April 2013
Is it really an addiction?
Dear anonymous,
Reading about addictions has me thinking about my own problems. It may be crazy to some but self-harm really is an addiction. You crave it, you try to heal, you relapse, you do ridiculous things to obtain things to cut or burn or bruise... it takes over your life. Constantly on the back of your mind.
Just thinking back, I can remember one intense situation where I wanted my razors back so badly that I acted insane. I had given them to my don so that I wouldn't be tempted. Then I had a really bad day (I can't even remember what it was anymore) but I really needed them back. I wanted to slash at my wrists and going into the kitchen to grab a serrated knife didn't work. Scissors also didn't satisfy the craving so I decided that it was worth it to get them back from my don.
It started out calmly with me asking him for them back (in the back of my mind, I knew it was a stupid thing because he obviously wouldn't return them). Then he obviously said no so I stormed into his room and began digging through his drawers. Needless to say, he wasn't very good at hiding them so within two seconds I had them in my hand. He was stood in the doorway and I just stared at him and told him to move. There was nothing on my mind except hurting myself and seeing blood run down my wrists.
I swiftly moved to pass him and he tried to stop me by hugging me. I literally tore away from him and ran upstairs to my own room. Thinking back now, that was probably one of the lowest-points of my cycle of self-harm. I still have the urges but I've been "clean" since before December. I can't tell you a particular date because I stopped counting days when I kept relapsing. It would just put me in a negative mood. I'm better for it now though. I have urges but I choose to fight them. And fight them I do. Every single day. I'm getting there.
Love,
Michelle
Reading about addictions has me thinking about my own problems. It may be crazy to some but self-harm really is an addiction. You crave it, you try to heal, you relapse, you do ridiculous things to obtain things to cut or burn or bruise... it takes over your life. Constantly on the back of your mind.
Just thinking back, I can remember one intense situation where I wanted my razors back so badly that I acted insane. I had given them to my don so that I wouldn't be tempted. Then I had a really bad day (I can't even remember what it was anymore) but I really needed them back. I wanted to slash at my wrists and going into the kitchen to grab a serrated knife didn't work. Scissors also didn't satisfy the craving so I decided that it was worth it to get them back from my don.
It started out calmly with me asking him for them back (in the back of my mind, I knew it was a stupid thing because he obviously wouldn't return them). Then he obviously said no so I stormed into his room and began digging through his drawers. Needless to say, he wasn't very good at hiding them so within two seconds I had them in my hand. He was stood in the doorway and I just stared at him and told him to move. There was nothing on my mind except hurting myself and seeing blood run down my wrists.
I swiftly moved to pass him and he tried to stop me by hugging me. I literally tore away from him and ran upstairs to my own room. Thinking back now, that was probably one of the lowest-points of my cycle of self-harm. I still have the urges but I've been "clean" since before December. I can't tell you a particular date because I stopped counting days when I kept relapsing. It would just put me in a negative mood. I'm better for it now though. I have urges but I choose to fight them. And fight them I do. Every single day. I'm getting there.
Love,
Michelle
Dilemma of a lifetime coming to a close?
Dear anonymous,
This is a story about a boy. His name is Josh. For just over 8 years we were best friends. In grade 5 we met in our French immersion class and that was it. We spent late nights talking on msn (it was a thing back then), we would hang out all the time at school, text at all hours, hang out at his house, spend time with his family, spend time at our church youth group together. We were inseparable. As all stories go, I fell in love. It never even occurred to me that it could happen but there it was one day. Staring me in the face. I wanted to spend all my time with him, know everything about him, have him know everything about me. And he might not have loved me back but I knew he liked me at least a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit.
This is grade 11 now and he's dating a girl named Sarah. She always hated me. I think she was threatened by my friendship with Josh and being a girl, she could probably see the love pouring out of my ears. Josh and I stopped talking a lot that year because of her. The next part makes me a little bit of a homewrecker. Okay... maybe a lot of a homewrecker. I told him one night that I loved him. That I had always loved him and that it killed me to see him with Sarah. I told him that I wanted him and only him and that nothing was going to change that. He broke up with her the next week. And we shared our first kiss later. And then again. And he told me he loved me. But then it was time to go to university and he was going to Ottawa while I stayed here in Toronto. So we said our goodbyes and told each other that we would still stay best friends and let whatever happen happen.
Enter first year and things got hectic. We broke that promise of staying best friends. By November, I hardly knew who I was anymore so I pushed him away. I guess I pushed a little too hard. We fought one night. It was the fight. The one that tore everything apart. The one that made me cry for weeks on end because I knew it was over. Our friendship. The love he said he felt for me. Just gone.
For the past three years, I have missed him more than anything. I miss getting a good morning text, I miss having someone to talk to at all times, I miss having someone to tell all my secrets to, I miss being hugged, I miss feeling like someone cares about me, I miss his family telling me we were going to get married, I miss his dog (and I don't even like dogs). Anything and everything there is to miss about someone, I miss.
In December of 2012, I sent him one last letter. There was no return address, there was no signature. He would know it was from me. It was closure for me. Finally time for me to move on. So I sent it off never expecting to get anything back because how could I?
April 1st, 2013. Inbox on Facebook. From Josh. And boy was it long. And heartfelt. And sincere. And everything I had always wanted (minus an apology for the fight - it was his doing - but he did say that there was no apology that could right everything he did wrong, so there's that). With an annotation saying it wasn't a joke (April Fool's!).
I think I'm still processing it. Processing the feelings associated with him and all our memories. To tell you the truth, I don't even know what I want. It was because of him that I began to hurt myself. It was because of him that I cried more tears than I've ever cried at a funeral. It was because of him that I have these incredible, impenetrable walls around my heart. Maybe I'm being a little too harsh. Maybe it's not all because of him. Yet as much as I know myself now, I know that a large part of my miserable, angst-ridden, self-deprecating self is his doing.
He taught me that I am not good enough. He taught me that I can't trust someone who has been my everything for 8 years. He taught me that I am worthless. He taught me that I can't be loved. He also taught me that I can love so wholeheartedly that the world stops spinning for a moment. He taught me the meaning of friendship, of belonging, of faith. He taught me to appreciate little things in life like sitting and watching television with your family. He taught me that people can care for you.
He wants to try again. To be friends. But how do you bounce back from three years of lost trust and unbelievable heartache? Do you listen to your head and say no? Or listen to your heart and say give it another chance? He broke me more than anyone ever has and yet he put a light in my heart for so much longer. So what's the right thing to do?
Love,
Michelle
This is a story about a boy. His name is Josh. For just over 8 years we were best friends. In grade 5 we met in our French immersion class and that was it. We spent late nights talking on msn (it was a thing back then), we would hang out all the time at school, text at all hours, hang out at his house, spend time with his family, spend time at our church youth group together. We were inseparable. As all stories go, I fell in love. It never even occurred to me that it could happen but there it was one day. Staring me in the face. I wanted to spend all my time with him, know everything about him, have him know everything about me. And he might not have loved me back but I knew he liked me at least a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit.
This is grade 11 now and he's dating a girl named Sarah. She always hated me. I think she was threatened by my friendship with Josh and being a girl, she could probably see the love pouring out of my ears. Josh and I stopped talking a lot that year because of her. The next part makes me a little bit of a homewrecker. Okay... maybe a lot of a homewrecker. I told him one night that I loved him. That I had always loved him and that it killed me to see him with Sarah. I told him that I wanted him and only him and that nothing was going to change that. He broke up with her the next week. And we shared our first kiss later. And then again. And he told me he loved me. But then it was time to go to university and he was going to Ottawa while I stayed here in Toronto. So we said our goodbyes and told each other that we would still stay best friends and let whatever happen happen.
Enter first year and things got hectic. We broke that promise of staying best friends. By November, I hardly knew who I was anymore so I pushed him away. I guess I pushed a little too hard. We fought one night. It was the fight. The one that tore everything apart. The one that made me cry for weeks on end because I knew it was over. Our friendship. The love he said he felt for me. Just gone.
For the past three years, I have missed him more than anything. I miss getting a good morning text, I miss having someone to talk to at all times, I miss having someone to tell all my secrets to, I miss being hugged, I miss feeling like someone cares about me, I miss his family telling me we were going to get married, I miss his dog (and I don't even like dogs). Anything and everything there is to miss about someone, I miss.
In December of 2012, I sent him one last letter. There was no return address, there was no signature. He would know it was from me. It was closure for me. Finally time for me to move on. So I sent it off never expecting to get anything back because how could I?
April 1st, 2013. Inbox on Facebook. From Josh. And boy was it long. And heartfelt. And sincere. And everything I had always wanted (minus an apology for the fight - it was his doing - but he did say that there was no apology that could right everything he did wrong, so there's that). With an annotation saying it wasn't a joke (April Fool's!).
I think I'm still processing it. Processing the feelings associated with him and all our memories. To tell you the truth, I don't even know what I want. It was because of him that I began to hurt myself. It was because of him that I cried more tears than I've ever cried at a funeral. It was because of him that I have these incredible, impenetrable walls around my heart. Maybe I'm being a little too harsh. Maybe it's not all because of him. Yet as much as I know myself now, I know that a large part of my miserable, angst-ridden, self-deprecating self is his doing.
He taught me that I am not good enough. He taught me that I can't trust someone who has been my everything for 8 years. He taught me that I am worthless. He taught me that I can't be loved. He also taught me that I can love so wholeheartedly that the world stops spinning for a moment. He taught me the meaning of friendship, of belonging, of faith. He taught me to appreciate little things in life like sitting and watching television with your family. He taught me that people can care for you.
He wants to try again. To be friends. But how do you bounce back from three years of lost trust and unbelievable heartache? Do you listen to your head and say no? Or listen to your heart and say give it another chance? He broke me more than anyone ever has and yet he put a light in my heart for so much longer. So what's the right thing to do?
Love,
Michelle
Sunday, 21 April 2013
Still searching for me?
Dear anonymous,
Welcome to another angst-ridden blog by a young girl searching for her identity. Yes, I may be 21 years old and entering my last year of university in September but, as it turns out, I'm still a little bit lost. The world is a scary place, we all know that. I guess I just want to have something out in the world to look back on in the future, with as much anonymity as I can get from a public blog. So this is for me. And it's for you, too. Everything on here is going to be full disclosure. For your eyes only. I'm shying away from my friends and my family and telling you about my life. So here's hoping at least some of you will follow me on my journey.
Love,
Michelle
Welcome to another angst-ridden blog by a young girl searching for her identity. Yes, I may be 21 years old and entering my last year of university in September but, as it turns out, I'm still a little bit lost. The world is a scary place, we all know that. I guess I just want to have something out in the world to look back on in the future, with as much anonymity as I can get from a public blog. So this is for me. And it's for you, too. Everything on here is going to be full disclosure. For your eyes only. I'm shying away from my friends and my family and telling you about my life. So here's hoping at least some of you will follow me on my journey.
Love,
Michelle
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