Sunshine pondering and chicken soup for the soul.

For the first time in a long time, last week I was able to drive, in my car, by myself, with the windows rolled down and the warm wind and sunshine in my hair, sunglasses on, calming music up, and a smile on my face. I talk about the snow a lot, and about how it makes me happy. But I must say... nothing, is like the warm day where the smallest things can make me feel free. It was very relaxing. Not to mention, that day was probably the most stressful day of my long and painful week. But it was the most relaxing once it all boiled down to it.

I love my music. I love my car. I love my sunglasses. I love the sun. and I love that on my way home, I had that calming feeling of knowing that when I got home, no stress would be waiting for me. It was nice. To just sit there in my car as I slowly, patiently, and peacefully made my way through town, embracing the warmth coming into my car not from the vents but from the windows, and truly accepting and loving myself and my life for what they really are.

I am so content. So stressed and anxious and wound up and busy, but content. I can honestly say right now that I am satisfied with who I am. I know its subject to change, in fact I want it to, I never want to stay the same person. I'm eighteen. Of course I'm going to change.

But who I am, what I'm about, what I stand for, I could never be more satisfied or more sure of it. I have my love, my morals, my dreams, my opinions. All of them matter to me more than I could possibly explain. Not only that, but I've got a grip on them. No more riding the fence. No more worrying or wondering what other people are going to think, or if they're going to agree or disagree or judge. There is always going to be somebody. So right now I believe what I believe, I hold what I hold, and I am what I am. I love it. And I feel so incapable of explaining just how much.

I'm sick, this nasty cough of mine is making me so tired. I should be sleeping, but weekends are when my blogs prosper the most. When I'm on top of things.

But honestly. I have been very on top of things lately. That accomplishment I had after that busy week at the end of January was such a big relief and a big joy that I know I can tackle anything. Everything I prepared for during the past few months all boiled down to the end of that semester. Grades, finals, senior project, solo/ensemble, piano recital, choir concert, poetry out loud, everything. All my preparation was going to be presented or performed or demonstrated in some way in the course of two weeks. How crazy. My planner got so full that I had to steal a few patches of computer paper from my printer and fill that up with my almost-dry pen as well. The ink I used, the thoughts I purged, the goals I made. It was enough to fill the plate of a dozen people.

The night of the 31st was a night I will never, ever forget. Messing up at my recital was so insignificant. Because if only you could've looked around me at my life like I did that day. All of my hard work had paid off. Not only that, but look at who was there with me. My supportive dad. My loving grandparents. All there for me. I was not alone. Not abandoned. All of us eating at Jimmy Mac's, having cross conversations at the table, back and forth about anything and everything. Comparing food and stories. My flowers in the back of the car waiting to be put into a vase when I got home. The laughter that just filled the whole atmosphere with a comfort I had almost forgotten. My colorful certificates after my performances. The support I had warmed my stomach. The flowers brightened my spirit. My very own accomplishments made me feel like I was on top of the world. And the people I love with all my heart were sharing all of it with me. My heart was not alone in a sea of people. My heart was full. So full I cried on the way home.

Then there was the superbowl, which to me was fun not just because it was the superbowl, but because my dad and I went shopping for the yummiest foods and we made lunch and had hella good hamburgers. All just hanging out. I can't stress enough the fact that when I'm with these people, I am whole. When I share a part of my heart with them, it heals, it breathes, it grows.

That following monday, February 2nd, was a fresh start with school. I went out first semester with a bang, especially with extra curricular activities, and starting new with a brand new notebook was so exciting to me. However, along with the change came a lot of negative feelings toward high school and the people in it. I love my school, and the education I'm getting, and how I feel like all my hard work is really paying off. I'm doing it. But I don't belong in a high school. I believe this even more now than I did before I ever talked to Askew about it. When she agreed with me I realized that it all just wasn't in my head. This isn't just me feeling abnormal because I'm something different, something more, something deeper. This isn't just me imagining things. This isn't just me hating the gossip, the drama, and just being fed up. This is ME. Being me. Being more than me. Being more than stupid high school drama and expectations that aren't going to mean shit in the real world. This is me knowing, seeing, realizing, and understanding that high school is a world that I don't want to be in, a fake world, a worthless world, unless you make something of it, and get through it to better things. I hate the fakeness. I hate the groups, the gossip, the stupid drama. I hate the petty things that people make big deals over. I hate popularity contests and have's and have not's and I wish I was this, or I wish I was that, or I'm better than her, or the judging and the back stabbing and the maturity levels that seem to not only be too low for my brain to handle, but just.... non-existant. I love high school. I love my friends. But I think I'm getting just a little bit worn out.

I am becoming selfish. But Mary and says thats okay. I am doing this for me. I am graduating and getting my diploma for me. I am learning for me. I am standing up for myself for me. I am working hard even if I get called an over achiever, FOR ME. I am being nice to teachers and showing my appreciation not to be a teacher's pet or a suck up but FOR ME, because I want to, and because they deserve my gratitude. I live. For me. I'm there to learn, I'm there to walk across that stage, thank Mr. Smith and all my teachers for caring, and get my diploma. I'm there to eventually leave. I'm there for college. I am not there for you, your words, your false accusations or harsh judgments. I'm not there for you to trample on me just because I succeed. I am there not to try, but to DO.

For me.

I'm not even there for friends anymore, as sad as that may sound. I see them, great, they make me smile and I love being near them, great. But unlike alot of people, I don't go to school for them. If none of them showed up, I wouldn't change.

Everything I do, I do for me, my future, my family and those I care about. Not for you. And since I have not only realized that but lived it, I have never felt more free or more alive. I am growing more and more each day. My love and passions and relationships are blooming. Everything is just so.

Ahh.
These are the kinds of things I think about when I drive my car around.
Wanna take a road trip?

I refuse to walk away and do nothing.

I have sat here, and sat here, and sat here. I have had plenty of conversations with friends, people I look up to, people I don't like much. I have cried plenty of tears and slammed plenty of doors. I have closed and locked my heart but I have opened it back up again. Plenty of times.

I have driven a whole car ride without uttering a single word. Yet I have not been able to go a single day without speaking. I have woken up during sleepless nights and slept during peaceful afternoons. I have let go and held on. I have wondered and thought, and I have screamed and I have ran. I have trusted with my heart. I have distrusted with my heart. I have done anything and everything.

and yet somehow I have still not found peace of mind. Fylicia tells me that when you don't know what to do, you should nothing. and I agree to a certain point.

but who am I to do nothing with something that is enveloping all of me?

I can't, and won't, just sit here and do nothing. One thing you can learn from knowing me, if you learn anything at all, is that I am not one to sit back and watch things happen. Whether they are good things, bad things, whatever. I take action. You could say that is a fault of mine, but it has done me well when I know what I want, when I know I know what to do to get it, and when I go get it. I not only follow my heart but I lead my heart. I am the first one at your door step if seeing you is all I can think about.

but why is it, that sometimes the moment I get my momentum, I trip? why is that no matter how hard I try, there is always something there to disappoint me?

I have never cared what other people think. I have never cared if someone looks at me, and judges me. I have never cared if someone talks with me and just doesn't GET me. sometimes I don't even get me. but does that matter?

I used to say no, it doesn't.

but when something in my life means this much to me;
when all I can do is stress, and worry, and cry, and HOPE that my heart isn't wrong for the first time;
when I hold, love, desire, and care for something this strongly;
there is no way it couldn't matter.
Of course, with all this at stake, I'm going to care if I'm judged, if I'm understood or misunderstood. I'm going to care if someone else cares less than me. I'm going to naturally, inevitably, and strongly care whether or not I am loved just as I love. It won't change my viewpoint, my motivation, my reach. But I will care. That much is very clear.

But either way.. I know more than I ever have that there is no way I could ever let it go. What I care about. It means more to me than I can even fathom. More to me than the art of language could even begin to describe. More to me than my own happiness, evidently. Caring about what I care about is my happiness. Its my oxygen. My air. My breath. My reason. If I didn't care, there would be no point. Thats just my opinion, and I know not everyone is like that. But thats me. The most important thing about me. I care, and therefore, I'm whole. It makes me strong, makes me weak, makes me feel like I can climb buildings and fly from towers. It makes me who I am, makes my grasp hold tight and my heart love deep.

but right now. I feel like I'm walking through the mud. I'm attempting to kick away the vines that try to strangle my feet and the stones that try to break them. I'm disregarding the harsh, hurtful memories and I'm yearning and reaching for the things in my life that bring me comfort. But my legs are getting tired. My feet are getting bruised. My memories are overpowering my happiness and as much as I'd like to kick them to the streets, I'm stuck and I'm engulfing myself in them despite my lame attempts at forgetting them. Worst of all, my arms are battered and weak and hurt from being slapped away so many times.

By no means am I giving up. That is something I never do. but I am pleading for help, I will say that much. I'm searching for strength within myself I never thought I had. and while I know I will find it, while I know I AM finding it, it could never come quicker and for the first time I am admitting that I need it. I need to borrow someone else's legs for a day. I need someone else's arms to hold mine up when they're too tired to hold anymore.

There are things in my life that I can run to. To escape this. Poetry. Music. Stage. A good read. but escaping isn't an option when my life is in dire need of a pickup. A shake off. A charge. A renewal and a trust boost. I have to pick up my momentum again and keep running. I can't pretend that everything is alright. I can't dribble along in the life I thought I knew when so many things are changing before my very eyes. No time to even blink, or think, and my whole entire mind set; my thoughts, my motives.. they change. And change. Again and again. Plenty of times.

I am so extremely weary. So.. not lost, just.. stray. I'm not lost. I know my heart. I know my desires. I know my life. I'm certainly not lost. I'm just straying off the path I thought I knew so well. And either I have to do something about it, or embrace the change that just may be inevitable. As much as I hate goodbyes, I do embrace change well. In fact, I often thrive from it, grow with it, cherish it. I learn and I love it.

But there is one change in my life that I would never embrace if it came to it. I am doing my part, I am trying so damn hard that I'm exploding. With love, pain, laughter, tears. I won't say I have done all I can do, because my continuation of this desire for victory and this push of strength are the only reasons its still alive, and still moving, and still not on the verge of ending. My perseverance through trial and error is the only reason my heart is still beating. Aside from that, all I can do is hope and pray that whats on the other end of the struggle is fighting just as hard as I am. All I can do is hope that my energy and my love will be held just as tightly as I am holding, and that my hard work will prevail because I have given another life a nudge out of the door, strength to do better, courage to live up to full potential, and a shoulder to lean on in the meantime.

With all my strength and words left to muster. With all the courage I have left.

All I can do is hope.

I have to find just where you are

today I took a look back at myself from last summer. went through old emails. revisited old memories. probably not a good idea, but if you know me, then you know by now that I will always reminisce, even when its bad for me.

I wish I had that fiery passion that I did then. I wish it never would've been taken from me. its still there in the areas of life where I'm safest... music, stage, paper. but its not there for someone else like it used to be. I know where it went. I can't get it back. time will tell, but gosh.. I'm impatient. don't think I have ever been this impatient before.

I don't miss the fighting. I don't miss the embarrassment, humiliation, and shame. I don't miss the judgment days and discrimination testimonies. I don't miss the lies and deceit. and I certainly don't miss being the one that was always looked at as the screw up.

but I do miss the stars. I miss the fields and the belief and the safety of a church and a relationship that always lifted me up. I miss papa murphy's, movie nights, my dog waking me up in the middle of the night, my siblings waking me up early in the morning, sleepovers at paije's.

I never would have guessed that I would be where I am at right now. still fighting for something that I thought I had let go long ago. still standing strong despite the humiliation I endured before I moved. still living and breathing for what I believe in.
standing, yet broken, is what I am. but a broken heart still beats. constricted lungs still inhale. bruised eyes still see. crushed hands still hold. a torn spirit still flies. and I know that somehow, someway, it will all be ok.

the air is so chilled here and I love it. I love finding my own sun when there's clouds. I love singing to anybody who will listen, loving anybody who will let me love, knowing anybody who crosses my path. Ah.. the guitar music rings through my ears and the stage calls my name. these things keep me alive, which I am eternally grateful for, especially when I take journeys back to the past. its like a guilty pleasure. I want so bad to look, and then I do and wish I hadn't. sometimes.

you know, I'm no genius. I'm no masterpiece of perfection. I just have a heart. and while its easier to just let things go or pretend I don't care, I know that no matter how hard I try, that will never happen. besides where's the adventure in that, really?

but I've got it all, I've got everything I could possibly ask for now. except the family I lost. except my cousin's laughter to cheer me up when I'm down. except the super glue I need to sew my heart back together. except the trust to that needs to be returned. but other than that, I got it all.

that last part will be my adventure. I hope I don't trip.

man, now that I think about it. sometimes I wish I never dreamt at night. often times it throws off my whole day. my dream last night was terrible. I woke up wishing there was another chance for me grab what I don't have anymore. its truly amazing how dreams sometimes can be so real. it wasn't bad enough for me to wake up in tears but it was definitely getting there.

it was real for me because I'm still going through it. no matter how good of a weekend I had, and good of a Sunday evening I had, I still came home thinking they were going to be here. thinking I could run into my brothers arms and tackle him to the ground and tell him I hate him just so he'll punch me in the arm over and over. thinking I could crawl into bed with my sister and read together. it was a big let down coming home to realize they weren't going to be there, even when I knew all along they were back home in ferndale already.

but you know... when things like this happen, just gotta live life. and people always say that everything works out, and even though thats hard to believe, it does. I know from experience. things work out and new problems come but in the end, everything's alright.


I'm not apologizing for my writing this time. Colby told me that my writing is for me. if someone else doesn't understand it... at least I do.

i left my heart in the fhs auditorium.

to say the least.

its true.
i did some serious growing up in that auditorium.
that stage had soaked up tears and caught me when i had fallen.
it brought out the best in me. it gave me friends.
and my laughter is stained on its walls.

and its not just with the auditorium.
its with the choir. the friends. the passing periods.
i miss it all.
the risers, and hageman's conducting.
the kodak moments i took in my mind that i will remember forever.
like running from Colby in the auditorium isles and being scared in the dark backstage.
fighting every person in the choir to sing next to my favorite singer.
barely pulling off a show and then laughing about it afterwards.
awkward moments in the cafeteria involving fallen cucumbers and a red face.
dancing in pajamas and band shirts.
watching all the choirs hold hands and sing for "small voice".
hello dolly, footloose, annie get your gun.
browne's government class.
giggling.
ferndale football.
DQ parties after performances and with Colby on a sunny day.
everything.

i miss you.


its such a new adventure for my heart to start growing in the air of phs.
i love it.
in every way.
and i'm being pushed in ways that i never have before.

but ferndale.

i will always love you and the good memories you gave me.
you have my heart forever.

on pretzels, piano, anger, and goodbyes.

my whirlwind weekend. what a ride. ever wish you could just filter through your memories and choose which ones are more prominent to your emotions and which ones you could just... erase?

i definitely had one of those weekends.
it was the hardest thing in the world [and i am not exaggerating] to walk into that house and be there when my cousin wasn't.
no beeping and bleeping of ninentedo games or computers.
no loud and roaring yells of welcome and happiness.
and worst of all.
no buzzing or dripping of the oxygen machines.
i used to find comfort in falling asleep listening to those. and this weekend without them was literally a nightmare. because not only did it show that it wasn't needed anymore. but it showed that my cousin was gone. and it just hit me. all this time i've thought he was just somewhere else, driving his scooter around messing with people. but he was not home.
and the worst part of it all was walking into the church, almost by myself, standing in the isle. straight ahead of me down the isle was his motorized wheelchair. with an oxygen tank in the back. and his hat, which gave him the oxygen, resting on the top. it was empty. and i couldn't stop the tears.

halfway through my blog and i'm already crying.

the nice part about this weekend was that i was finally able to say goodbye to him. i played angel eyes for him near the end of the service, and i cried more tears than i have in the past 2 weeks, which is really saying alot considering i've cried more tears in the last 2 weeks than i have in my whole life. i was definitely emotionally drained saturday night.

its like a whole part of me has gone missing and i'm never going to get it back. at this point i just have to learn to live and function with a hole in my heart. i'm a total stranger to myself, because this boy brought more love and joy to my life than anyone or anything. being around him just... it would penetrate you. he would be looking right through you. it was like a reality check. he'd look at me and smile and ask me to play and suddenly everything bad i've done in my life was brought to the surface. i couldn't hide it from him. he changed me and made me want to do better. be a better person. he did make me a better person.

it was hard being in that house, where he once walked and danced and sang and lived. where he died. i never sat at the table, because that was the last place he was. it was where he was sitting and eating when he died. i couldn't even look at it. just like i couldn't go in his room.

i deal with my pain certain ways. and not getting too close to a memory so vivid is my way of dealing with it. once i'm there, i can't get out, and i'll cry myself to sleep no matter what time of the day it is. i had to be strong that weekend for my other family. so i never got too close.

weird things would happen to me. i'd expect his chair to click and to start walking towards us. i expected him to start boxing with me like we always did. i'd expect him to ask me to start making letters out of pretzels, which was always our thing. i'd expect him to play mario kart with me. i'd expect to hear his voice, feel his laugh, and taste his happiness. but whenever i didn't, i would literally break into a million pieces. i would remember the hole in my heart and clutch my chest not knowing what to do to ease the pain. sometimes i couldn't even cry because the pain was so excruciating.

other things happened that day of the service but i can't explain them, because alot of them are personal to the people it happened to, and i'm sure they wouldn't want it all over some girl's blog on blogspot. but lets just say i was up until 2 am that day stressing and being angry over big things that should never have happened on the day we bury the person in the family who had it all together.

it's almost symbolic.
the day we say goodbye to my cousin, the family falls apart. he really was the unifier of the family. but it worked out eventually. all of it just still makes me so furious.

i never knew i could get that angry. but then i thought to myself... i would do anything for my family. especially the ones who are suffering. and when something happens to them or when they're put at risk, i will stop at no means to protect them. i cried i was so angry. i couldn't believe that someone could be so heartless. it hurt me to see it. but what also made me upset was the fact that there was nothing i could do to change what happened or to make it better. luckily my aunt took actions. i totally admire her for always doing what's right and taking action and not just sitting around talking about it.
that's how i'd like to be looked at someday. i will never settle for less or just let things fly. i'll always stand up and fight.
no question about it.

overall. there are things i'd like to forget about the weekend. but i will always remember my cousin, and what it meant to me to play for him that day. he was with me. and it was the first piano performance i've ever had without making a single mistake or wishing i could go back and make it a little more powerful, or a little louder or slower or quieter. it was perfect. and i know it was because it was for him.
i didn't care about myself.
i didn't care about messing up.
i didn't care about the crowd of tear-streaked faces that were all watching me, expecting me to bring emotion to the room through seb and through music.
i didn't care about any of it.
i cared about my cousin.
sebastian c.e. ward.
and it was perfect for him.
i, for once, was able to be perfect for him.

i love you.

the tears still fall.

And I see them in everyone else's eyes too.

I sometimes wonder which things in life are tests. Or maybe they all are. I know that we're not just living here for nothing. I know we're not just "set loose" with no purpose or no reason. There is always purpose. There is always reason.

Believing in that usually gives me an extreme, overwhelming comfort, even among all the anxiety that seems to be suffocating me through and through.

I'm going to withdraw from my college class. Jay told me not to drop out and not to be like him and do what he did, but I don't look at it as dropping out. I almost have no choice. I look at my options, and see. It all points towards withdrawing.

My life is honestly just too much to handle right now...

guardian angel.

The sun is bright and warm but it doesn't shine for me anymore. The wind blows through my hair but brings me no ease, just tension and anxiety that I seem to get from everything else in my life.

My best motivation, my best sunshine, my best hug, is gone.

My baby, my buddy, my sweet child of innocence, is gone.

He taught me everything and expected nothing. He would laugh and not want anything in return. He would smile when the world threw its worst at him.

I followed in his footsteps.

Sebastian C.E. Ward.
is my guardian angel.

His death will never make his memories fade. Or the lessons he taught me.
They will always be here. In the sun, in the rain, in the tears, in the laughter, in the dreams and the hopes of every person out there showing the world who they are and embracing the diversity.

He embraced his diversity. He captured the hearts of people by being himself.
A lot of people would see what he was incapable of. But I only saw his significance. His life. His precious meaning. His heart.

I will never allow him to become belittled, forgotten, or judged.
Because he is the reason for who I am today.
And if it weren't for him, I would not know of the small, good things in life that make it worth living.

He is my guardian angel.