Old church song

"Be bold and be strong,
Banish fear and doubt.
For the promise of our God
Is the blessings coming in and the blessings going out.
Rejoice!"

I took my pinata and left.

Sometimes you don't realize the extent of the situation you're in until you're able to see it from the outside.
You may know or recognize certain elements about it, but full vision typically can't come until you're no longer in it.
Cue all the "you don't know what you got til it's gone"'s and the "Hindsight is 20/20"'s. They're all accurate.

I was fired today.
"Let go" was how they worded it.
I'm going to try and keep my opinions of assumption out of this, but that becomes rather difficult when your assumptions are all but confirmed by action.

Baseline:
I came to work for this place 2 years ago. My boss pursued me for the job for about 3 months before his daughter (my childhood friend) called me and convinced me to look into the job.
It sounded promising. They wanted someone long-term, I wanted something long-term. It sounded perfect.

I started realizing it wasn't pretty early on, but I remained hopeful that maybe things would change.
Then there was an incident where my inbox was broken and thrown. There were many tense moments and a severe lack of communication. I started seeing that I wasn't being respected, but rather treated like a child. There was tension between two co workers that made the whole office feel painful. I tried to stick it out. I still liked what I did.
I started really laying low after my inbox was broken. I learned to keep my mouth shut. I started noticing how they didn't care about reasoning, but that I just did what I was told. Now you may be thinking, "you work for them, of course you're supposed to do what you're told." And I agree, but this was different. I was either not told of everything, or only given the stuff no one wanted. Or being made to do things I was clueless about then reprimanded for not being able to do them. Over time it resorted down to all I they treated me like I was good for was answering phones and making copies. I couldn't say anything about anything (I don't like confrontation, but I'm not afraid of it) as I learned early on when I tried to that it was pointless. That's when I realized that they didn't want reasoning--to them it was excuses. They didn't care to understand. If they told you to do something, you just had to change how you were or how you functioned or how you felt to do what they said.
I guess I wasn't what they expected or remembered me to be. I quickly realized I didn't fit the mold. I tried doing my best and learning what I could and keeping up, but I realized that I could never do enough. I couldn't be enough. And it was never their fault. It was me. I had to learn to be better. I had to change to be what they wanted; what they understood.

I kept all of this inside. Told myself it was probably me, that I needed to understand and figure out how to be better.That surely I could figure out how to get along and get them to like me. I told myself this while everything on the inside raged against me. Wasn't this what I spent all that time in counseling to teach myself not to do? Didn't I unlearn the habit of blaming myself for everything? Why was I doing this?
I wasn't respected. I was told to just suck it up until it passed. I was belittled. I was pulled into meetings and blamed for the issues (not named, but it was clear) which made the others feel better and peace return since I had been reprimanded. Or whatever. I kept getting sick. Worse and worse.
And I just kept going.

Then, we got a new girl. She was around my age and we got along really well. I kept quiet at first, not wanting to scare her or put things into her head. I didn't know her, and didn't want to just throw all this information at her if I couldn't trust her.
My birthday came around shortly after she was fully taken on. She got me a delicious cake. We got a pinata. We broke it open. Light and laughter was in the office again.
Slowly, she began to see the cracks in the system. She saw how I was treated, and felt it herself. I asked her if I was doing anything wrong; if she could see anything I could do better to not have this happen.
But she couldn't.
"It's not you." She told me.

We functioned very well together. We spoke the same language. We were very effective together. We got things done.
The others didn't feel any better about me. In fact, at one point it got worse. I'm still not sure what about me came off so wrong. I tried to be kind, I tried to be patient, I tried to be open minded. But when it came time to stick up for myself, they would shut off. They would write me off. You could cut the tension with a knife.
Until we got pulled into another meeting. And I was blamed for 2 hours--not by name, once again--full of assumptions and presumptions and things that would have had to have come from other mouths to come from the head like that. And after having to bite my tongue through it, the tension left for the most part. And was gone, mostly, for a while later. My new co worker told me she knew that was directed towards me as well. That I was the one they were almost always looking at as they spoke, as if no one else in the room mattered except to be witnesses.
But "technically" they didn't identify it as me. "Technically" they didn't do anything wrong.

Everything was covered up by technicalities.

The day came when my new co worker had to move. It was only temporary. She'd be back, and her job would be waiting for her.
Until it wasn't.
And it was news to her.
When another person was hired on, and her stuff was boxed.
I was hesitant, but tried to be open-minded. I could see what was appealing in this new one. She had experience, she made her voice heard. People listened to her since she was older--something I obviously lacked being that I'm about half of everyone else's age, if not more.
I began to notice things that didn't match up. Flaws in her system. Contradictions.
I became more and more hesitant. Until I was given full reason to withdrawal trust.
Lips dripping with honey, but with a bite at the jugular.

Turns out I began to hear things. From people I didn't know as well as people I knew and trusted. Confirming what I was feeling.

Then I started to feel it: that wave of emotions right before some big change happens.
I grew to be very familiar with this feeling for a while, but had gotten used to not having it over the last two years. I moved and switched jobs (always at or around correlating times, even) 7 times in the 3 1/2 years before. It got old really quickly. I was glad to be  somewhere. To hopefully get to stay and not have to deal with that again. Yet here they were, those same feelings.
I would have these thoughts in my head, and they wouldn't make sense for what was before me, but I knew deep down I needed to listen to them.

"Maybe you should try and go back to the doctor to see if you can figure out what is really wrong with you. You have insurance now. It's fine."
Turns out the doctor I saw figured out what had been causing the brunt of my issues the last 8 years. Now I am informed and aware and know what to do.

"You get your next vacation on your two year mark. Why don't you use it to work on your house two weeks later."
Which was the beginning of this month. People commented on how rested and happy I looked after that.

"Take the fish home. And you know what, take all your extra stuff home. What here is yours and what's not? Separate it all."
Which made today so much easier as I knew I had everything that was mine and could leave what was theirs.

"Hey, you have some personal files on this computer you'd be sad to lose. Maybe take those and put them on your laptop."
Literally had a few more I couldn't get to in time, but those I had copies of at home. Everything I didn't have back ups to made it on to my laptop. The last bit being last night.

So when I came into work today, and my boss told me his schpiel, I was good to just walk out.
I went into the back to see if any of the guys were there. Only one was. So I shook his hand and told him. He was shocked, and his face turned sad. He hugged me, and I hugged him, and told him he better not get in any trouble. I text the other guys whose numbers I had since it was an immediate thing. They were also shocked and sad.

I went inside logged off of everything on my computer. While newest co worker watched like I was going to steal confidential information. Boss didn't treat me like that, which I respect. I got the stuff I had brought in with me, as well as my stress ball fish and my hand sanitizer. I didn't re-look through my drawers because I knew I had everything. I left one notebook that may have had personal notes mixed with work ones, but I left it. I closed that drawer, and saw him.
Alejandro.
Our so-named pinata bust from that time we got one on my birthday.
He broke perfectly to look like a prize piece of game so we hung him on the wall as such.
I got my stuff, took my pinata, and left.

I told my boss I knew it wasn't anything personal, because it wasn't. I'm not offended. I'm not mad.
I'm relieved.
You see, now I can file for unemployment, and I had an interview that seems rather promising the day before.
I felt it coming so I was trying to do what I could to make it to where he didn't have to fire me. I figured he wouldn't since he never did unless the person had it coming to them. He gave his reasoning, and it was all logical. They're very clever at covering themselves. Good thing I have no ill-will to want to come back and try and pull something. I'm just not that person.

I cried a little bit, but mainly at the shock of it all.
Things started falling into place in my head that are all just assumptions, but would definitely explain why I had been treated so poorly this last week. I do believe I was the last to know of this happening, or maybe next to last. Today is the last day of pay period, so at least they gave me the whole week's check.
I left before my other co worker could even get there, and laughed when I noticed they had hung my stocking.

Said a simple, "bye" to the new co worker as everything inside of me cringed to even do that.
My insides know more than my mind can express. They sense things.

I'm over it.

I drove home, excited to know I had time to work on my house, to work on editing pictures that I need to get done.
I laughed.
The farther and farther away I got from that place, the lighter my heart began to feel.

Do I have any clue of what's ahead for me?
None.
Do I have a job for sure lined up?
No.
Do I have every right and reason to be scared out of my mind?
Absolutely.
Am I terrified?
Not in the slightest.

Which, I think, says a lot.

And you know, I text the tenants upstairs and told them. And they genuinely said they were sad to see me go and wished me all the luck in the future.
As I heard back from our guys I was able to tell, they expressed sadness.
I got a call from our insurance agent, telling me how sorry he was to hear, and giving me names and numbers of people he knew who were hiring. Because he's a nice person. Said he would vouch for me because he knows I'm a hard worker.

So even though I'm fairly certain my name is flying around the office with other words it doesn't belong with like the few that left before they were fired unknowingly unliked (but they could also sense it) before me, it doesn't matter. The people whose opinions I cared about--the ones who had any weight--were positive. They still liked me, they hated to see me go, they offered encouragement.

I know who I am.
I like who I am.
People like who I am.
So if one small group of people doesn't, then that's okay by me.

It was better to be out of there, to be free, than to try and stick around in the name of adult responsibility.

And I tried to make this blog post as kind as possible. I thought about not even writing it. what would any of them think if they ever read it? Then I thought of big-named people who have told honest stories in memoirs of people who have wronged them. Not because they were bitter or malicious, but because it was a time of their lives. It happened. They can't change that just because someone doesn't like how you perceive them. There's this quote that says something like, if someone wanted you to write well of them, they should have treated you better. And it's true.
My story is mine. It's true and honest. It's not written with any ill-will, just to tell my experience. I am more than a few people's opinions.

Sometimes we just have to take our pinata and leave, knowing that what's ahead is so much better than the shit we're leaving.
(curse word intended. It was more than just "crud."

Wednesday November 11, 2015 1257

Yesterday I went into the house, I put my head on my Dad's shoulder and closed my eyes. I took in his smell, the feel of his warm skin on his arm, his chest rising and falling as he breathed. I remembered being a child, and feeling, smelling, hearing all these exact things with my head on his chest hearing his heart beat. I wanted to take this all in, because I can.
Life is a weird thing. It's predictable and you make plans until something comes alone and shakes you to your core. Then you figure out how to cope, until the next thing happens. And one day you die and it's all over. And what did you make of it? There's no second chances. Your active story ends there. What continues on is in the hands of those you left behind.
I'm twenty-seven. I remember not too long ago thirty seemed so old. I would see pictures and hear stories of people this age and thing they were old--they were the wives and mothers and successful whatevers with stories and their lives together. I'm twenty-seven with nothing to show for it--or so it would seem.
When I thought back on everything I would have missed had that wreck been worse, it shows me that even though I may not have a list of typical accomplishments, I have a very full life.
I would have never danced more than those first two weeks--not even enough to be known. Jackie and I would have been friends. I would have never gotten to babysit Piper or meet Bo. I never would have met--let alone live with--Kara. Never would have seen Bianca's wedding. Or Sarah's. Or Jamies, or Kim's, or Carolyn's. I never would have met Evelyn Barron. Kim would have been at my funeral. I never would have known Andie or Annika or Allison. Never would have gotten to know Hannah. I never would have gone to Munro, wouldn't know half my cousins. I wouldn't have ever done another recital or gotten pointe shoes. I never would have done Nutcracker, or met the Rowland's or Cortez's or Elizabeth or anyone else at the studio. Countless people would have had to have found a different photographer, or just not have pictures of certain events. My ballet blog wouldn't exist. Dad would have never built my house. I never would have seen Amsterdam.

The last four years have been pretty definitive for my life.
I may not be married or have x number of kids or some fancy title, but I have a pretty great life; one I'm glad I haven't missed out on. Even with its trials and hardships.
And there's still more ahead. How much more, one can never be certain.

And I'd like to think that my life is defined by more than just the number of years I'm on the earth, but rather what I do with those years. A full life shouldn't be defined by length, but rather depth. Squeezing every ounce out of every day you get to wake up again. I don't want to waste one precious second.

I'm different. I know I'm different--it's clear. I'm learning more about my differences and how to hand life living with these differences, but sometimes life is unforgiving. Change happens and you can't control it, you have to accept it as part of the story instead of an error. People die, people hurt you, things end up differently than expected. You have to handle it. But you also have to know when enough is enough and to make a change. Sit tight until you know it needs to happen--then do it. Do it and don't look back.
This is your life--your one, precious life. Don't let other people hold you back. Be kind every second you can, fix your mistakes when you make them. Apologize--and mean it. Strive to be a better you. There is always something new to learn; some way to grow into a better person than you were before.
There will be pain, and mean people, and cruel things that don't make sense. But these things don't define you, they refine you.

Never Alone. ©

Head in my hands
The pain of the day
leaks from my eyes
onto the floor.
Inhaling the reality
this won't go away easily.
I match my breathing
to the beating of my heart
pumping life into my veins.
Supplying the rhythm
that surges through my being.
I life my head and
take that fist step.
As the weather seems
to have gotten the memo,
I close my eyes,
let it seep into my skin.
The heavens and earth
understand my pain
and cry with me.

©

It's five am in Amsterdam 
Far away from where I am
I close my eyes 
Let out a sigh 
And pretend I'm there again

I don't know.

Post-Europe Depression is real.

I long for the canals of Amsterdam.
Walking the narrow streets as the bikes pass by, breathing in the crisp air as the wind graces my face. Hands in my pockets, street lights across buildings, bells tolling the hour.

I long for the streets of Paris.
Popping into museums to visit old friends on the walls, vendors enticing their goods out of green boxes, the Seine guiding me along my way, laying in a field in front of the Eiffel Tower.

I long for the rain of London.
Hopping on subways full of other travelers, tile lined station walls and stairs leading up to different pockets of life. Cafes and the arts welcoming you anywhere your head turns.

The last time I was in rain, it was in Europe. It covered me, soaking into my pours, holding me like a loved one.
It rained today.
Touching my skin, taking the place where the breeze used to blow and the drops were before.

Western rain doesn't feel the same.

Things lately.

I was flipping through the journals from the last year and a half since I moved home last night.
I'm going out of the country for 13 days and I don't want my family to read them if they pack up parts of my room while I'm gone, so a friend I trust offered to hold onto them for me.

There are five journals, not including my current one.
I didn't intend to read them, but got caught on a few parts when checking for the dates to make sure I didn't miss a journal. (Which I had. So good thing I checked.)

Things were so hard. I was so sad.
And things can still be difficult and I can still be sad, but generally life is so much better now.
I don't know if that's just because I'm leaving the country Friday and my house is almost done and all these other good things are happening, or if it's because life is actually better.
But since Oz things have been notably better. Almost as though the show was the actual catalyst. It began very difficultly, but by the end my heart was so full and happy.

Sucky things still happen.

• my friend died
• my cat died
• ballet has been rough
• work is difficult

But the way I feel during and after the sucky things has changed.
I'm not as hopeless.
The sadness doesn't feel as sad.
I have these people that call me their friend and care about me.
These people supporting me in what I do.
These people laughing with me, yet crying with me.
These people sharing the same quirks I thought I should be embarrassed over.
But I don't have to be. Because I'm not the only one.
I have these people that help me become a better version of myself.

So life is weird.
I don't know what's next, I don't know what's ahead. It feels like something is waiting for me, but I couldn't tell you what it is.
Whatever it may be, it has to be good.

Here we go again.

Initial writings after tragedy.
More to come, I'm sure.

My Eyes Are Green and Red ©

It wasn't supposed to be you. 
Full of life and promise,
That's who you're supposed to be. 
That's changed.

The drone of cheers and celebration ring in my ears 
But all I think about is you. 
You're gone now. 
And I'm at a loss for words.

It wasn't supposed to be you.

This holiday can never be the same. 
I'm sure in time I'll celebrate again 
But not without remembering 
This day. 
This moment. 
The pain I'm trying to drown until I'm left alone to grieve.

Words can never be a worthy enough tribute 
To who you are--were--and what you mean to me.

I miss you.

©

Grief hit me like a wave 
Swelling up on the typically calm shore.
But I don't know if I can surf today.
Regret sinks in the pit of my stomach 
Your voice echoing in my ears 
Deep breaths, just hold it together 
My lips are numb, this can't be real.

But it is.
And you're gone.

Fireworks lose their luster,
Dull against the dark of night. 
I hear the cheers, but I don't feel them. 
How can I when I just lost a piece of my heart?

I'm too young to have a funeral dress that has seen so much use.

Before you go ©

The smell of the city is beginning to wear off
Reality is setting into the fibers of my clothes
The monsters are waiting for me
Behind doors I closed as I left.
This skin I'm in is still the same.
I see the world through eyes that
Change color when I cry.
The very eyes that have seen everything I know.
Every terror and triumph
Logged in my same brain,
Filed and put away.
These fingertips have touched worlds both here and there.
Same heart, beating words I can never say.
But now my eyes stay brown.
I don't cry anymore.

Most of my posts have been on my ballet blog lately.
Or my journal.

Life is good.
Although difficult at times.

I'm finally finding where I belong
And have people who care about me.

Change is in the air
I can't see it, but I feel it.

You should know better.

There was a fly that got into the office today.
I big, fat fly that buzzed from room to room for hours.
Eventually, the fly hit the glass window and bounced off landing on its back on the floor. It struggled to flip itself back over as I watched, finally accepting it's seeming demise. I got up to see if I could flip it over, or somehow get it back outside when it got up a second wind and managed to get off its back and take off again, flying from room to room. I opened the door to try and lure it outside as it flew back my way only to be distracted by the smell and sound of rain.
Rain.
With bright, sunny, blue skies.
The sound of big drops colliding with everything around it.

I forgot the fly, walked outside, and just stood there.
Hands open, big cheesy grin on my face.
You'd think I was 6-years-old.
My co worker came out to leave for the post office and said, "Come back inside, people are gonna think you're crazy." to which I responded, "I'm already crazy." and proceeded to lavish the rain.

Rain.
Falling gently into the bulbs of the purple flowers blooming in the grass.
I squat down to watch it like I'd never seen it before in my life.
It was fascinating; beautiful, even.

So I found a nearly-dry patch of ground and sat down, taking in everything around me.
The water from the drain forming a make-shift creek as it wove its way through the parking lot.
The drops landing on the pavement, just to dry up shortly after. But only until there were many of them, then they all formed together to make the pavement a different shade of gray.
Feeling it on my skin like an old friend.

What is it about adults that we miss simple things like this?
We accept it in children, but chastise it in ourselves, why, because we should know better?
I would think that the children know better than us when it comes to things like this.
The world is so much more beautiful if we look at it for what it is and not through the scope of what it can do to make our lives easier or more of how we imagine things to be.

If we didn't have rain, we wouldn't have food, we wouldn't have beautiful green grass or flowers, we wouldn't have the means for rainbows to be formed.
We wouldn't have much of anything without rain.
If all we have is sunshine-y "perfect" days, we would never be able to appreciate them.

Appreciate the rain.

Kittens

Enjoy some pictures of the new kittens!

kitten butt

She likes hiding under my jacket.

Fluffy was jealous

So cuddlyyyy

I'm a puddle.

Funeral in the Wildflowers. ©

What was the ground like
Before you were in it?
Solid and untouched
Not yet a body pit.
Did it know this was
the fate that lie ahead?
Were there other hopes
than consuming the dead?

Now I’m sitting here
Knowing you’re six feet deep.
The thirsty ground yields
the tears from fallen cheeks.
Maybe after time
Has come and gone from me.
There will sprout flowers
Where my tears used to be.

Then there I will be
Next to you in the ground.
Nothing more than names
On tombstones to be found.

(© Emilee Ayers)

(Written March 6th, 2015, I think)

reaction

I posted the above picture to my instagram account. Below is the response I got from one of my High School friends.

I saw your post on Instagram. You've always been beautiful! I wish I would have known this was a struggle for you and I would have told you more! I always looked at you and your love for life with such envy. To be as free as you seemed to be. It was always something I strived for. So proud of you for pursuing a new passion and taking care of you! You definitely have sparked a desire in me to live without abandon and love fiercely. I pray my sweet Caroline can embody your spirit and love of others!

With* not without

File this under the "If you have something nice to say, say it." category, because I'm sitting here in tears reading her beautiful words.
She didn't have to take the time to tell me what she felt and what I meant, but she did. And I needed to hear it, as cliche as that sounds.

I tend to go through life taking things as they come and doing my best to leave a kind taste in people's mouths. I want to be a force for good, but sometimes I feel like I'm failing miserably or that my problems I'm facing overshadow any goodness I could bring.
Jenn knew me when I was in a very dark place; a place that clouded my life since I first met it back when she knew me. It was new and I didn't know what to expect or how to navigate it. It was hard and hopeless, yet here I am ten+ years later. It's still a shadow in my life, but I've learned what to expect and how to power through it even when all seems lost. Even on the days I feel death would be easier than the darkness. Even when I feel most alone.

When you give out kindness, it has a way of coming back to you, if not always in the ways you'd expect. Just when I feel like I am isolated and not understood and that my life and story isn't one people particularly care about--only criticize--I go out on a limb and post this knowing full well that people with opinions will see it, afraid to check the notifications because I don't want pity or for people to try and make it into something it's not. Just as I'm thinking, "I just wish that people would ask about it, but not for pity or gain. I just want them to want to know. To care enough to know about my life and what I've been through to get here rather than to shallowly assume my life is roses and that I'm weak. But I don't want pity. I don't want it held over my head or to cause side glances. This is why I like strangers." I get this message, and it makes me feel like everything I've been through is worth it.

Life is worth it.
The fight is worth it.
Take it from someone on the other side.
I promise.

(edit: My favorite song just came on Pandora. Which makes my heart feel ways I can't explain. The timing, man.)
(Ps. It's Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve)

Smiles in the sky.

Yesterday I became friends with an ex-drug addict at a gas station.

Wait...What?
You heard me.

And while some people will praise me and some call me ignorant and more still will think I must be some sort of radical, it's none of those things at all.

I tried getting gas before dance. The pump was being weird. I left.
Decided to get gas after dance.
Made the logical decision of what station to go to--the easiest to get to.
Get out of my car, swipe my card, but the pump in my tank thingy, set it, and wait.
Next thing I know, I hear someone say, "Excuse me, do you know where Betty Jean is?"
I look up, and a girl is walking towards me.
I meet her kinda half-way--away from my car--and she tells me she has this address of where she needs to get to and the guy she asked for directions told her this street that she can't find and she walked all the way to this one street and back which is a rather long distance and couldn't find it. When I said, "Yeah, I do." and started pointing, she let out a sigh of relief.

Long story short; got my phone, pulled up google maps, plugged in the address, showed her the simple route from where we were.

She told me she was an ex-drug addict and was chasing the safe house instead of the drug and was just trying to get to it. She wanted to do better this time, and she didn't mind the walking because it kind of helped her but she was having a hard time finding the place.
I told her I had addictive behavior as well, that dancing helps me. She loves to dance. I told her where I take and to come try out a class. She sounded excited.

She told me how she looked up at the clouds while she was walking and saw--she laughed--a frowny face in the clouds. But that she decided she wasn't having it. She was going to stay positive and trust the outcome would be good. A little farther down the walk, she looked up again, and there was a smiley face in the clouds instead, "It's like God was telling me that He had it under control."
She seemed a little hesitant to tell me, like I would think she's crazy for seeing these things and coming to the conclusion she did. But I just said, "I see them, too." And mentioned how I see hearts everywhere, or have songs come on that I know is God confirming something.

We then talked about Lecrae and she started rapping one of her favorite verses and was so happy.

I added her on Facebook, where the story she told me matched up to what was on her timeline (about how she didn't have a phone cause she was jumped and that's how the veins got busted in her eye and she was trying to do better) and I smiled.

We shook hands and went on our ways.

It wasn't anything I was looking for.
I wasn't trying.
I didn't feel some intense knowing that I was supposed to be at that gas station last night,
But I was supposed to be at that gas station last night.

I was feeling pretty crappy before that moment. Like maybe certain things were my fault or I wasn't doing life well enough and all my troubles were a direct reflection of my life choices.
But then this happened, and I remembered why I live how I do.
God directs me all the time, even in simple things.
I just go with it.
I don't try too hard or not enough.
I just live.
That's all He's asked me to do is just live.
He takes care of the rest.

crossover

There's a post on my ballet blog that I debated writing here, but since I learned it in the studio, I decided to post it there.
Regardless, I wanted it to be here as well.
So, here it is.

Because I'm at work.

I have so many thoughts in my head, and I really want to write, but I'm an adult and I'm at work and "work" today is really just me procrastinating. And I kind of hate it.
Not my job, I love my job. But I would function so much better if certain things were different, but I have no control over those things.
And since I have to look like I'm working, I can't easily bust out my journal and appease this longing inside of me.

Now I have 5 blogs on blogger alone.
I also have 4 Tumblr's.
I have Facebook.
Twitter.
Instagram.
etc, etc.
Yet I want none of these.

I want the pen in my hand and the paper underneath.
I want the medium where my words aren't shouted out to the masses as soon as I finish writing.
I want to put my thoughts in that secret place where I can admit thoughts and feelings free of judgment or someone trying to "fix me."
Just because I feel doesn't mean I need to be fixed.

I'm just a twenty-six-year-old, trying to navigate her way through this life she has, all while trying to do her best not to piss people off.

A big part of me wants to delete Facebook all together.
I'm tired of having everyone else's lives thrown into my face every other second.
Telling me all the different ways I fall short and how much I'm not enough.
I only keep it for two reasons:

1. My photography page has turned into an important connection for clients.
2. It fills time at work.

I hate #2 as much as I'm sure you were amused reading it, but it's true. 

I hate it.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Why is it that so many work places don't have enough work for their people to do?

I know I'm not the only one with this issue, and honestly it's weird.

Having to do something pointless simply because you need the money is one of the most frustrating things.

I hate doing pointless things, especially pointless required things.

I dream of one day occupying my time with things that I'm actually passionate about, or at least mildly interested in, and not having to worry about the paycheck it does or doesn't bring.

What is my life and why is it this way?

That's a loaded question with a novel between the lines.

Sometimes I write things.

I hope you can understand my random bouts of classical music and writing and deep feeling.
Of things I can't explain but that encompass me wholly.
Of illogical mumblings about impossible things that are so real to me.
And now I sound crazy.
And maybe I am.
But I can't imagine me without these things.
It pulses through my veins, begging me to keep living.
To rectify all those who have endured before me.

This isn't just me, but about all those who have lived and died this way.
Who could have given up, but didn't.
Who faced hell and walked or ran or crawled through.
This is about carrying on what they fought so hard for.
This is true humanity.
This is what it means to live.

Hi.

It's a new year.
I haven't had much to say
Cause this year has been somethin'
But I didn't want to be all negative nancy on you guys so I haven't posted much.
Just journaled.

So, hello! Welcome! We made it to another year! That is saying something, so congratulations!
You're going to do great things this year! Look at you, already 20 days in! After tomorrow, it'll be 21 days, and they say it takes 21 days to make a habit.
I don't know who "they" are, but they sound smart.