When A Good Thing Is Good, It Ends Abruptly

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What do you do when you did everything right, but things still didn’t work out. Well a normal person would ask themselves why over and over again (I did that for a day). An abnormal person would just say “fuck it” and keep going. This is where I’m at now. Yet, even though the “W” and “H” are fading away, the “Y” is still there. Seriously, Y?

Each kiss was full of feeling. They were slow and sensual, burning a path through my body. Your arms pulling me close and holding me tight. They were hard and full of passion with your hands holding my face and body flat against mine. They were in public, in private, in a truck, in bed, in front of friends and for the first time on my couch with my favorite movie playing in the background. Now they are nothing but memories.

Your hands paved roads that stopped short of my heart, which I am thankful for. Each nerve in my body came alive at your touch. Your hand flat against my back caused a tremble to flow through me. Your hand gliding into mine as you pulled me closer to your side was feeling so intimate it didn’t seem real. My palm still feels every shape you drew with your fingertips.

Each word you spoke still resonates through my memory. Though I could only comprehend so much of what I took in, I still remember enough. At times I would stop listening entirely, though not being rude. My eyes would just be so captivated in your eyes and face as it came alive with what you were explaining. Your hands moving all over as you dove deeper into your words. It was exciting to watch.

When it comes down to it, part of me wants to know what went wrong. How is it that I felt something but you didn’t. No I don’t blame you for your feelings, I just dislike how one-sided it became. I doubt either of us did anything wrong, but I will still find something wrong as I am emotional creature.

At the end of it all, I’d have to say I am almost at peace. Hell, I’m writing this so that I can get it out of my head and be further in peace. This all still doesn’t seem real at all. One minute we’re chatting like normal people and next thing I know, we’re broken up. I was in such a shock, I never got to say what I wanted to say. All the words I wanted to say to you are still here. All my thoughts and concerns are still in my head. All of this was shoved back into me like a stake through the heart when “Goodbye” popped up on my screen.

I’ll probably never see you again, and I guess that’s okay. My thoughts still float to you randonly, but my head will be cleared soon. I still find a tear or two sliding from my lids, but soon my eyes will have dried. My chest tightens slightly at anything that reminds me of you, but the small tinge of pain will have gone away eventually and all will be right with the world. Hey, at least I have nothing but happy memories. That was the best thing I’ve even been given and I thank you for that.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

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As I ride around New Orleans with my friend Mike, it sort of hit me that I am way too comfortable in a city this is not really mine. I wasn’t born here and I damn sure didn’t live here, no matter how many times I’ve visited the area. I am actually curious as to when this place became my home. What makes a place a home.

Does birth make a place home? Is a certain city you home just because you were brought into the world there?

If your family moved, is that former city still your home? What about adoption? Can they still call that place home?

Does living somewhere make your home? Everyday people look over the simple things in their lives. You get up every morning and involuntarily walk to a certain room or follow a certain routine. You drive to places everyday, not realizing you automatically know where to go. When giving directions, you can either give street names or basic landmarks that you are so accustomed to seeing. Hunger can be solved with quick thinking and a swift turn. You back roads and short cuts. You have your own special spots that you cherish. This is the home that raised you.

Does your college choice make your home? The first thing that crosses your mind when going off to school is not the place but the college itself. No one realizes that the school has a city or town attached to it and it sort of becomes a part of you. By the time you graduate, this place will be etched into your memory bank and you will always be able to recollect a random thought from those years. This is a place that you spent four to six years and during that time you learned an entire campus and found your way around the city. If you want clothes, you know where there are deals and where you can get a certain item. You know where every food location is and when they open and close, although it is slightly shameful. You know where every CVS or Walgreens is because sickness is a thing. You know the club scene and the bar life. You know all of this and for that reason it makes you forget that this is not your town but it sort of became your home.

Does your family make your home? When life gets stressful and things get to hard, talking on the phone with a family member sometimes makes it alright. A simple hug from a mom, dad or sibling can calm the soul. Just sitting in the same room with the television humming in the background can be relaxing. Is the feeling of closeness and serenity these people bring home?

Do your friends make a home? They might not be legitimate family but they may as well be. You met them as strangers and over time, you became to see them as more. No one can really pinpoint the time and place, but it surely did happen and you’re glad. These are the sisters and brothers you never had. You trust them with so much. They are like the second string quarterback of your family. They may not come before your blood family but they will always be there for the same purpose: to just be there for you. Loving these people is an amazing feeling because they sort of just became a part of you and now share life experiences with you. They make you feel like home.

Is the place where you want to be home? You have spent countless hours imagining this wonderful life you will have at this new city, state, country or continent and now its turned into a longing. Is it possible to be homesick of a place you’ve never been? You add new details to your fictional life, create senarios and tease yourself with ideas of a family. This place seems to turn into a home everyday and maybe even someday.

If you were wearing the ruby slippers and chanting those magical words, where would your home be? Home can be so many things, places and people and it gets confusing sometimes. Yet as cliche as the saying is, home really is where the heart is.

F…is for FRIENDS who do stuff together!

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Over these last few weeks, I have been mulling over little tidbits of my life so far. More precisely, my friends. Friends, such a strange, yet calming word. I had to pause today and think over that word and its implications.

When did a ‘good morning’ said out of manners become something that comes freely with a smile? To others, I greet them out of routine but with my friends, I genuinely want to know. How was your day? Did you read a good book? Did you eat something spectacular? Did you cry? As your friend, I don’t deserve to know but I’d like to know about your life.

How did we go from that first awkward hug to embracing until we can’t breath? There are days when the hugs I give reflect how my day is going, and I feel it is the same with you all. A tight hug can mean two different things if you look carefully.

When did we fall into comfort? Usually when I sit by someone, I feel tense and uncomfortable. With you, I feel…content. We’re just there. No talking is needed to fill in the gaps of time. The low buzz of the television or background music is perfect sometimes.

When did you become the first person I wanted to tell everything? I tell most people enough to get them by, but not you. I can tell you almost everything without a second thought. I don’t even try and lie. Things I don’t even tell my family can be told to you because I trust you.

When did you begin to mean something to me? In the beginning you were just another person walking past my life. Now you are apart of it and it would actually hurt to see you leave it. You are family now. I actually cry when you cry. I laugh when you laugh. I smile because you are smiling and I love that about us.

So after all these questions, I really want to know one thing: when did we become friends. That is the question of the day. I don’t know when it happened, but I am oh so happy it did.

Ahh…This Is The Life

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This shall be a short post brought about by a fleeting moment of clarity.

Tomorrow, my roommate and I start our internships. We are both excited and scared, as we should be. This is a very exciting time in our lives.

Yet…we are spending the night before doing the exact opposite of what we should  be doing. Instead of sleeping, we are eating snacks and watching the anime, Kill la Kill, that our friend Andre showed us.

In this moment, I realized that no matter how big anything gets, you still have time for the small moments in life.

Also…go watch Kill la Kill on Netflix. Its really awesome.

30 Realities You Will Learn To Accept In Your Mid-20s

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Thought Catalog

1. You can’t romanticize loneliness.

2. Or pain. Or hurt. Or heartbreak. There’s nothing romantic about binge eating a gallon of ice cream or crying yourself to sleep.

3. Some people will never think that you’re good enough for them. And there’s nothing you can do to change that. What you can do is move on and try to forget about them. But know that pretending not to care isn’t the same thing as letting it go.

4. Your life is not a John Green novel.

5. Nor is it an episode of Friday Night Lights, or Broad City, or Looking (but be grateful that it’s not an episode of Hannibal).

6. Don’t quote me on this, but every word that comes out of your mouth will not be memorable or endlessly quotable, destined to receive thousands of notes on Tumblr and be printed on tote bags…

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Shut Up and Dance

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“If you can’t get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you best teach it how to dance.” – George Bernard Shaw

There are many things I love to do in my alone time. I love to sing. I love to eat…the way I want to. I love to lay on the floor and read a book for hours with my ear buds in. Most of all, I love to dance. Sure I dance all the time with my friends. We dance everything from silly dance to club dance. Yet alone dance is the dance I love the most, for legit reasons of course.

I love this type of dance because it is never planned. It is pure and spontaneous. It comes out of nowhere and infects my body like a surge of electricity. Plain tasks and chores turn into my own private dance rehearsals. I am inhibited and unhinged. There is no criteria. There is no routine. It is just me, dancing. Sweeping and mopping the floor turns into the a staccato-filled tango. A simple shower turns into the most sultry of shows for no one in particular. Washing dishes and folding clothes leave my hands preoccupied but my legs and feet move to whatever beat is flowing through my ear canal. It never matters, as long as I’m dancing. Dancing like this helps me relieve any stress, unwound any tension in my body and clear my always clouded mind.

I always wonder why I’ve never been caught. Like I am always doing it. I give little hints with small steps and gentles sways in public but that is nothing. Oh what a sight I’d be if I was seen. Ears blocked by buds as music takes over my limbs. Hips gyrate and sway as my arms float in the air. My head thrown back in pure abandon as a grin graces my lips. My eyes closed as I move across the room, and I mean move. My feet stomp a top the table as I dip low and fall onto the couch, letting my legs drum to whatever is playing. My body taunt as I leap fluidly over furniture. Grace I only possess in privacy shines with every spin I about the room. Years of off-handed practice shows as I dance new dances every day. Air guitars on bed make me laugh as I stare at the carefree girl in the mirror before me. The me I hope to bring out fully. She’s almost there though.

As I do this though, one thing always floats in the back of my mind: regret. I regret never pursuing this activity fully. I had my chance trust me. I was enrolled in a class and was having a blast. Yet one thing stood in the way: hesitation. It only takes one second for it to hit me and fill me with doubt and nerves and fear. I gave every excuse in the book to leave that class behind and I was given reprieve from my self-torture. Only years later did I look back and realize what I did was utterly stupid. If I could go back I would, but that is not an option.

So I speak onto you all with one request, and that is to dance. Dance in a class. Dance in your home. Dance through your chores. Dance in your underwear. Dance at work. Dance in your hear if you have to. Just dance.

To further this dance craze, here is an example of what gets me moving. Ignore the fact that is say “Shower Jams”, as that was it’s initial purpose before it changed. Some songs are simple and some explicit but eh, to each their own. Enjoy.