- Do not prop books on tree branches–they will fall and scare the heck out of the blonde girl in your American Lit class.
- Take two flashlights when you go caving, unless you feel like wandering through a cave in the dark for a few hours.
- The Christian Studies guy is a total prick.
- I’m sure the blonde jock seems charming and sweet, but don’t fall for it. Trust me.
- Measure your trust in teaspoons.
- Join a sport just to see if you make it. You can find some of your best friends on a team (like cross-country!).
- Move off campus for a year, but do NOT sign any year-long contracts. Sometimes your friends (roommates) try to screw you over.
- Your roommates are all lesbians. They aren’t just having sleepovers in there.
- Don’t throw away Jenga. You will miss it, and it was supposed to be your best friend’s birthday present!
- Last of all, PLEASE have fun. And not the kind of fun that people tell you is fun–I’m sure most of the parties in town are just full of testosterone and they smell like feet.
I am scared of a lot of things.
I’m scared of ISIS, terrorism, disease, and people hiding in the dark, waiting for people like me. I am scared of him. I am scared of being alone, and having no one to go to. I am scared of disappointing my parents, getting pregnant before I get married, and not making it into grad school. I am scared of school. I am scared of losing everything, and dying before I get the chance to live,
But I love running outside in my bare feet, and making up words to songs. I love driving when everyone else is sleeping, and pretending like I am the only person left in a small country town with a name no one seems to remember. I love talking about nonsensical things with friends, and drinking underneath the stars that fall along the river.
My fears will not stop me from walking outside, and breathing in freshly cut grass, or the crisp mornings lining my windows. My fears will never leave me, but my love for life, and for people, will fuel enough excitement and energy to search for more.
More than black and white, and more than memories left behind in pictures.
I am writing this blog so I can continue to move past the darkness pressing into my sides, cutting into my lungs, while I look into my past. I want to breathe again, but first–I need to start from the beginning. Or maybe from the middle.
This is me.