TeddyGrams

The Secrets You Tell Your Teddybear.

Protected: Milestones November 4, 2011

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Being home. November 2, 2011

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I didn’t feel like I was at home until I was at his house and with him. I guess its because its the only thing still consistent about my life. All my other relationships are strained by distance except for that one.

Walking into my own bedroom feels strange. The walls are bare. No Air Force flag, no Colors, nothing. My bed itself is rather uncomfortable, I found myself waking up through the night constantly– it felt far too large to not have someone next to me. I think that’s one of the reasons I tend to move to my sister’s room at night. The floor always looks like it been freshly vacuumed but it has really been weeks. (My mother keeps the door shut while I’m not around.) It’s just very strange.

Looking into my closet makes me worry though. I have so many more things since I came to college, not just clothes but some of everything. I think its one of the only reasons I won’t like being at home when I do go back from longer breaks. Having all my stuff in one place. Bleh.

I love being able to leave my room and have a whole house full of different places to go. Here, if I don’t feel like going outside, my choices are other dorm rooms or the lounge. And even then, many of my friends live elsewhere so its hard to avoid the dreaded cold. There is no beautiful yard to admire while getting lost in thought on a swing. Just the clank of a train as it goes by is here to rattle my brain. I would trade being able to go walk into my friend’s room for being able to walk into my grandparent’s room instantly. I feel like I’m missing out on so many little family moments. (Interestingly enough, they are very rare, even when I am home so I’m not truly missing much.)

On a side note: My parents seem to be much more lenient than they once were, each time I go home I’m allowed to stay out until 12 or 1 if I have a good arguable reason. That sounds like nothing, but it would have been unheard of in the past. I suspect they allow me to get away with such things because they want me to be happy. They want me to keep coming back to this place and calling it home.

 

One of the first entries I ever wrote on WordPress. October 13, 2011

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Was written the morning that I picked up my parking pass for high school. I had just gotten my car and I loved her. I ranted and ranted on a new blog about the bitch who hurt my poor little Annabell. She was still a baby, an infant even.

This time. I was that bitch. I was the bitch who destroyed her. Sure, there were other factors, but I was still the one who couldn’t save her. She was still a baby, even a couple of years later.

RIP Annabell.  October 2007 – October 2011

You are missed, every minute of every hour by me. I’m so sorry that I stopped caring about you. You were still a baby. You were my way out of that dreadful place, the safe hiding place for me and my things. I remember the little crystal teddy bear on your first key chain, my dad’s keys even. I remember the night that you were christened. I made life decisions while behind your wheel. I talked to the rumble of your engine when it was just the two of us on long trips.

Thank you for saving my life.

 

The thought occurred to me today. August 29, 2011

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That I’m physiologically homeless. For the next few years, I’ll be at school, moving from dorm to home to apartment. Nowhere permanent. Sure, I’ll call my parent’s house “home.” This weekend, when I went back, it felt really strange, as if I was visiting, not returning home. Of course, I will always go back there for summers and sometimes on weekends. But thinking about it, I’ve just realized that after all this school, the chances of me moving back in are slim to none. If I do reach my goal of becoming a doctor, it will mean that I will have been at school for about 11 years. Do the math: 18+11=29. At almost 30, there is no way that I’ll be living with my parents again. I want to be married and have my own life by then. (Yeah, I said it, the M word, my mind was just wandering so far into the future.)

This rambley nonsense just comes back to one thing.

“You put your arms around me and I’m home.”

I’m falling in love with this song every time I listen to it. I just don’t want that to be me. I’m at home where ever there is a reason to smile.

That is all.

 

Hurt. July 14, 2011

I only ever blog when I’m feeling down.

I have a few things on my mind.

My sister, him, the person I call my best friend, the other person I call my best friend.

I guess I have people on my mind. And loneliness.

I want to go sleep in my grandparent’s room, but the kitchen is a dangerous place to walk through when I’m feeling like this.

I’ve come so far. I will not give in to this now.

Tomorrow will be good. It has to be.

 

Graduation woes. May 24, 2011

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Were the only downside to today. I really am not that excited about graduation. My cousin, however, is. I agreed to a combined birthday party to minimize on the amount of annoyance to my extended family. We are having 2 graduations, 2 parties, and a birthday party all in the same week. My cousin did not want to combine her birthday party and graduation party. I therefore volunteered to combine my graduation party with her’s saving my family from at least one event. Little did I realize that this would be any trouble at all. It has led to some tension only due to the fact that my dear cousin invited my friends to this party without talking to me first and seems not to think it strange to invite my friends to a home that is an hour away. Yes, it is almost like my home, but no, it is not somewhere I feel comfortable inviting my friends. Thank you. I also would like to not be involved in planing activities for the friends of her’s that are are coming. I don’t know what they like and do not like. Sigh, I know she means well, my little sister. I shall just over look this and continue working on her senior letter. We have grown up together, surrounded by the same chaos. That has to count for something.

On a more positive note, I saw one of my best friends today. I remember why I miss him so much when he is gone. The rest of this week is already all planned out and my type A personality is very satisfied knowing what is going down.

I need to get back on good terms with my friends. Pushing people away is never a good idea, even if it seems to minimize hurt.

Tomorrow will consist of baking cookies, thanking teachers, enjoying sunshine, seeing pirates, and just relaxing. I also need to start looking at some random facts to brush up on my trivia skills for Thursday night.

Ramble time over.

 

Protected: Baby… May 23, 2011

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Best Friend. February 16, 2011

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How many people truly know the meaning out this? I know I do. Putting it to words could be rather difficult though. I don’t remember an exact day when I the words “best friend” first crossed my mind or even who they were in reference to.

Growing up, I felt like I had a strange curse. All of my “best friends” always left me with the exception of my best friend and cousin who has always been there in the background. There was Hailey, our neighbor that I grew up with. I was convinced that we would forever be together. She moved to the wretched land of Canada. All my other friends knew how close we were and consoled me. I soon met Catherine, a foster child who talked to me as I moped the exit of Hailey from my life. We became as close as we could be within a year’s time, but she too moved. Foster children always seems to be leaving. My next best friend was a girl that I still see everyday. We were close from the fourth grade to about sixth when our class schedules no longer matched up enough. This year, twelfth grade, is actually the first time that I’ve had a class with her since. I was left in middle school best-friend less. I finally found a new best friend in a boy in my math class. A boy that I lost quickly to his girlfriends to be (though, they are both close to me now, 4 years later.) It was around this point, in eight grade that I began to call my new neighbor my best friend. I had known her for about half a year. For almost all of the 5 years that I’ve known this girl, I’ve called her my best friend.

I have had exactly one person who I called best friend without hesitation, I could never see anything going wrong. Why? Because I saw nothing else but perfection in my best friend. When I say perfection, I don’t mean each action was perfectly good or that she did nothing wrong, far from that. I saw the perfect best friend according to my history. A best friend who would not leave me. A friend who I would maintain ties with my whole life, never lose to the corrosiveness of time. All I worried about was physical distance and not having enough time together. I forgot about the depth of out relationship, I forgot about the inevitable chaos that enters our lives.

I have such trouble saying these two words now, best friend. Why? Because my fatal flaw is my lack of the ability to forgive. Granted, I say I have forgiven. I have for the most part. I have forgiven my friend for her actions, for her choices. I have not forgiven her for teaching my a lesson about myself. I am not as independent as I like to think. I’m always looking for support.  I think my little best-friend chronology shows that. I need people. I especially need her.

My mother came in for a second to show me a new shirt that she had bought and I asked her to stay. I told her about the awful day that my friend had gone through today. I told her about the things that she had to deal with. Alone, without me. I feel terrible, I hoped all day long that she would make plans with me. Now that I think about it, why would she? All that she wanted was to forget it all. It is the job of a “best friend” to deem it necessary to make plans and execute them when a friend is feeling down. My mother gave me one look and told me to stop worrying about it and to try to study. My mother has obviously never experienced the companionship of a best friend.

I have an awful headache right now that is making reading my government book to prepare for my test tomorrow almost impossible.  I think sleep would be a better idea.

 

Protected: Your mom. February 15, 2011

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Advisment Musings February 9, 2011

I really don’t have much time to get anything worthwhile down, it’s the problem that I face every time that I have the urge to write. My notebooks are full of little paragraphs here and there of my nonsensical thoughts. I’ve been wanting to do an ins and outs for January, but I think we are a little too far into February for it to be acceptable to do so.

It’s February. The month of love. I just bought a “Crush Can” for my friend from her boyfriend. I think its cute. Lately, people have been hating Valentine’s Day. I’m sure this happens every year, but I’ve noticed it more this year, maybe because I don’t really want to buy anything for anyone. Being alone on Valentine’s day has never bothered me, I always have the love fo my friends. But this year, I’m still just trying to get back into feeling the love. Love haters are just so sour. I don’t like that I fall under the “sour people” category as of now.

I really do wonder where my life is going. In calculus, I’m constantly thinking about how I will not be able to survive the next four years without absorbing this vital information. I think that because I want an engineering degree AND a medical doctor degree. People tell me that I’m insane. I think I am too. I’m fairly terrible at Calculus (really only because I lack fundamental skills, I can talk you through a problem, I just can’t do it myself). It would save a lot of pain just to be a Pre-med Biology Major. Mercer would save a lot of pain. I’m still indifferent though — I won’t mind not being accepted to this program. I may still actually go to this college anyways, they have actual closets in their dorm rooms.

I might want to go into research, I might want to just be an engineer, I might want to get an MD and do Doctors Without Borders. I might want to do a lot with my life. I hope I do.

I think it might be time to start writing senior letters so my procrastination won’t get the best of me next month. I really only am counting the days of school that are left until spring break, after that it is just review and AP exams. 50 days.

Last year around this time, I met one of the closest people who exists to me. He was worried about the friends that he may lose due to the distance that he would be going away to college. I am too, I’m worried that I have  invested too much time onto some people and not enough into others. Sure, I may be a little sad to lose friends that I will inevitably grow apart from, but I’ve enjoyed the time that I’ve spent with everyone. I’m worried about regretting things. I wish that I could live without them, but avoiding regret is what keeps the world rational.  I don’t want to be lonely any more. The chain should come off the door.