Senior Year (Day Four): Why Did You Have To Ask Me This Question?

So since I posted my last blog about loving myself, I have received some feedback. Some good. Some bad. And I have learned a lot about myself by listening to what others had to say.

First, hole-filling. Let’s talk about!  

I had a short but meaningful talk with a friend and teacher today at my school. One of two things happened. First, I realized that maybe people DO actually notice. So maybe I didn’t give humanity enough credit which I take responsibility for! Sorry humanity. Thank you so much for proving me wrong! Secondly , she popped an unexpected question at me.

“I read your blog and I made the observation that most of your close friends are girls. Do you think that this is because you are trying to fill a hole,” She asked me.

UGH! I didn’t want this question! WHY?

I already knew the answer and I didn’t like it. Sometimes the truth is uncomfortable, sometimes it even hurts.  

“Yes.” I answered her, tilting my head, letting my heart sink to the floor. While this is something that I have known for some time now, it becomes a real issue having to put it into words. When you put your problems into words it makes them real, an actual and tangible thing, a thing that you now have to confront.

You cannot change something you refuse to confront. And I had been refusing to confront this matter.

While that was the extent of our conversation, it left an impact. It got me thinking.

I was aware of the fact that I was using others to fill this hole that I have and I was okay with that. I was happy with it, even if it might or might not have been healthy. I didn’t really care. The delusions in my head seemed better than the reality of what was happening. Call me selfish, I don’t care, its whatever. I’m just being honest. It had always seemed to work out before.  

Or did it?

Within the past few years I have really been dealing with some abandonment issues. In my experience, I let someone in, we get close, I start to love them and then they leave. They leave without a warning or reason, no goodbye. Just up and gone.

I am so tired of having to pick up and fix all the little pieces of myself that they leave behind. It’s too hard and tiresome of a job. You never get the pieces to fit right, anyways.  

Suddenly I realized that maybe this wasn’t so fulfilling, or healing for that matter. Because when you have a wound, sometimes you have to let it air out. That is something that I never allowed to happen. I just always covered it up with as many band-aids as possible. Even though others can help us heal from our trauma, they can’t be our morphine. We have to do the work ourselves.

I have come to a place where I have had to acknowledge the fact that no matter how much I love someone, or how much someone might love me, eventually, given enough time, they will fail me. They are only human and humans are not perfect, no matter how hard they try or how much we believe that they are.

Healing is a process and that process takes time and that’s okay. But at some point and place, you will become an addict, if you keep relying on others to do your work for you.  No matter the amount of humans or morphine you have, it will never be enough, enforcing a dangerous cycle of emotional cannibalism.

And so, I guess this begins the healing process. I suppose I have been a coward for long enough. Healing and regrowth takes time. And it’s almost never fun. Growth does not take place in your comfort zone. Out of discomfort comes change and out of change comes healing.  If you are in your zone of comfort, you are not growing. Healing requires a leap of faith outside of that circle.

And I’m going to take a giant one.

Secondly, maybe I still harbor some unforgiveness.

Or maybe a lot.

And that is not okay.

I know we have all heard the phrase: holding onto unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to get sick. While this is true, I don’t think we realize the simple power held within forgiveness. However, forgiveness is SO much easier said than done.

I think we believe that the act of saying “I forgive you,” is forgiveness.

It’s not.

The words mean nothing if the feelings and attitude never change. Forgiveness is more than just three little words that you say to someone who might have wronged you. It’s a statement, yes, but it is also an action, a verb. It is a release, a reconciliation of some sort.  I think I must have forgotten that because my bitterness never changed, got worse with time.

They say time heals all wounds, but it’s not the time in and of it’s self that heals, but what happens in that time. Change is the key.

But the problem is that we put too much of our faith in justice and revenge.  

This person did *fill in the blank* to me, so I think *fill in the blank* should happen to them.  

I tend it get upset and mad when my version of justice doesn’t hit them like Miley Cyrus on her wrecking ball. But focusing on the injustice of the situation only guarantees the unforgiveness and bitterness to grow like a weed and spread like a wild forest fire.  

And I’m so over it. I’m done with the weeds and the forest fires. Unforgiveness is selfish and stupid and I’m tired of it!  

UGH!

So thank you, kind friend for asking the hard questions! I appreciate it!

Let the road to become a better person begin!

Ill see you on the other side! 

Senior Year (Day Three): You Mustn't Be Afraid To Love Yourself

He was of a young age, a boy with only 5 years of life on earth, just beginning to learn and grow. The world was an exciting and tall place to him.

A sense of excitement grew in the small places of this boy. His sister was coming to visit him, and he knew it. He loved her more than anything else in his small little world, and his sincerity could not be denied. 

He waited patiently for her love and attention. He was not asking for much, he felt. However, it was evident his hope was void. The feeling was not mutual.

He tried hard to get her attention.

Maybe if I try hard enough she’ll like me, he thought.

And he tried. He tried as hard as he could but with no avail, never receiving anything in return.  

Eventually, his sister had reached a boiling point, a point of no more tolerance. She picked him up, hands wrapping under the pit of his arms, and carried him to his room. She dropped him on his bed, sitting down beside it as well.

The boy squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position, an excited anticipation filling him. This was the moment he had been wanting, hoping for, waiting for. The time that he got her all too himself. 

“All of this is your fault,” She told him. “All I have ever wanted was a sister but I received you instead. You are supposed to be a girl.”

She left, slamming the door behind her, the unknown sensation of hurt echoing through the boy’s heart. All he wanted was her acceptance, her approval, her love because he looked up to her so much. He wanted to make her happy and proud.

But what had just happened, whatever that was, was so filled with such a cold bitterness and a heated frustration.

He threw himself backward and rolled over, burying his face in his baseball pillow. Letting confusion and guilt ripple in his head, he believed her words to be true.

“All I ever wanted was my sister to love me,” he gasp through his tears, brokenness seeping into him.  

Where had this come from? He had not the slightest idea what she was referring to or what had brought it on. He knew that he had been a burden and he was the only one to blame for it.

Do you have any idea the effect that has on a child’s mind?

He eventually scraped together enough strength to stop the typical emotional volcanic mass that is a child’s life, leave his room, and go back to normal.

And that is the story of the boy.

However, that’s not where the story ends. 

There is SO much more to this story. Most of which is still held tight deep inside the boy.

I am the boy. This is my story.

And the problem is that I never truly went back to “normal.” There was a new normal, a different normal that was created within me. I never went back to the old one. I couldn’t have even if I had wanted to.

Because I had been broken. I was only a child and I had been completely shattered by just a few words by someone who I thought loved me. And that’s the thing about brokenness. It changes you. You will never be the same person as you were before because of it. Even after you heal, you are different; you have scars showing the damage. 

I think about this moment of my life quite often. It has left its scars. It has marked who I am forever. And if you look closely, you may even be able to see the proof of this.

That’s the thing about humans. We look at other people, but do we really ever see them? We look but we do not observe. We see, but do we ever notice?  

Did she ever notice the consequences that her words had on me?

Did she even care?

Ever since that day she made it apparent with her actions that she does not want to be a part of my life. She did not want me because I was not a girl. She still does not want me.  

I was rejected…. for the sole purpose of my gender. She claims that I am unlovable because of this.

But I am not here to be a victim. That is the last thing I want. It’s not about getting people’s sympathy. This is about sharing my story and lessons that I have learned, no matter how hard they were to come by.

I have always wondered why she has felt so strongly towards me. There are a million questions I could ask. But questions only lead to more questions. Unanswered questions lead’s to frustration. Frustration leads to anger, really serious anger in my case.

One thing I know is that unforgiveness is rooted in anger. And anger is bitterness best friend. They are never far apart.  And let’s be honest, I still am incredibly bitter towards her. I REALLY struggle with it, y’all.

The one thing people always tell me: She is the one who is missing out, you know. It’s funny because I know others are only trying to make me feel better. But with that statement, there comes a rock-hard reality.

I am missing out too. I am being denied the opportunity of having a relationship with my own sister. 

That’s heartbreaking.

But through a broken heart comes strength.

It took me a really long time to realize that her poor feelings towards me does not lessen my value. How could I possibly ever love myself when she didn’t? I spent most of my life believing that I didn't deserve love because I wasn’t worth it. There are days when I still believe that. Sometimes it’s hard to silence that voice.  But that’s the days that I have to choose to love myself.

Because that’s the thing about love. It is a choice. But the bad part is; you cannot make someone love you. I cannot make my sister love me and that really hurts. But I would rather be hated for who I am than loved for someone I am not. It’s on the days when I want to hate her for everything she has put me through that I have to remind myself that I’m the only one who is getting hurt in that process. Hate is easy and love is hard. But it’s worth it. I firmly believe that love never returns void. However, I will no longer omit pieces of myself in the hopes that someone might like me better.  Because I am me and I love myself enough to not compromise that.

I once heard someone say people usually hurt others in an attempt to heal themselves. But what I think we so often forget is that sometimes we hurt ourselves as an attempt for protection.

Maybe if I do it to myself first, then nobody can hurt me from that thing…I was rejected. Therefor I rejected myself. I felt unloved so I did not have the ability to love myself.

Its scary how it works.

There comes a point where hate is too big of a burden to carry. I have reached my point of boiling. I’m letting love bubble up in me, letting hate evaporate taking away its insecurities with it.  I’m learning to accept love. I’m learning to give love back to myself. I’m learning that I am worth it. I am worth being loved and cherished.  What a liberating thought.

I have learned to be grateful. Even though this situation has been rough to deal with and tough to get through, it has helped mold me into the person I am today. I’m sad that it happened but I would never take it back. I would never want to change the hardships of my past in hopes of an easier future. Despite all the nasty comments from someone I love, I have chosen to love myself. Despite all the nasty comments from myself, 

I have chosen to love myself.

I mustn't be afraid to love myself. 

I mustn't be afraid to shine a little brighter.

I mustn’t be afraid to be ME.

“Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR04ZUVWnY4

^^I heard this song on my way to school and it sparked this message. I know it probably seemed random and out of place, but it I just had to say it!

Thanks for listening to my rambles. 

 

Senior Year (Day Two): So This Is Goodbye?

Can we get real here? Can I just be honest and vulnerable for a minute?

Thanks. I thought so!

“It’s amazing what you gain when you lose,” she commented, sliding out of her chair. Raising one eyebrow- like I always do- and narrowing my eyes, I let the statement settle into a small piece of my heart.

I will never cease to be amazed at the way the universe provides tiny little nuggets of inspiration just when you need them. Never late. Never early. Just right on time.

For some reason this really resonated with me.

I felt like I was losing a lot, and the funny thing is, I hadn't even realized it.

Last week, two of my best’s friends moved away for college. Another one of my dearest friends will be leaving next week (and another just a few weeks after that.) We have both known for months that she is leaving, but now it is staring us right in the face, the reality  of that is now tangible. And it will be very difficult saying goodbye. Not just to her, but to ALL of them, to the people that I love so dearly.

Because what if they forget about me? What if they don’t return the same person as they left? What if they forget about the reasons they cared for me? What if I forget about the reasons that I cared for them? What if we grow apart? What if our friendship dies? What if they like all their new friends better than me? What if I am replaced in their lives?  

What if….

What if..

What if…

I know I must sound as if I have the maturity level of a 5 year old. I am immature for worrying over things like this, and I know that. I understand that my fears are probably in vain, that there is nothing to worry about, but that doesn’t take their whispers from the back of my mind, that doesn’t make the echo of panic void.

Because what if these things actually do happen?

I just don’t think that I can afford that kind of heartbreak right now!

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am absolutely thrilled for all my friends! College is exciting. It’s an adventure and I’m pumped that they get to experience life in this new way, get to grow more into the amazing people I know they are.

But sometimes I’m just really sad that I have to “lose” them because of it.

UGH! WHY CANT WE ALL JUST STAY TOGETHER? We could even have our own reality show. Think MTV’s Real World, but you know, it would actually BE real. Oh yes, minus the drunken stupidity that makes for great television.

I think that the hardest part about losing someone isn't having to say goodbye. Goodbyes are hard. They hurt and sometimes they even break you into a million little pieces. But rather, the thing that is most difficult is learning to live without them.

Adjusting is never a smooth transition. Sometimes it doesn't even occur. The stinging emptiness that is its byproduct is agony sometimes.

And maybe that’s my problem.

Maybe we feel empty because we leave pieces of ourselves in everyone that we love.

I know this is truth because I find small pieces and parts of me in the people that I surround myself with, love dearly, and invest into. Each of them has a certain and particular part of who I am that they hold within themselves, whether they know it or not. But what happens when those people are no longer around, taking all the separate parts of you away?

Then what?

Then it seems as if there’s huge whole in you are, or that there is nothing left of you but fading memories.

I have to remind myself on an hourly basis to stop. Stop my fretting, panicking and worrying. Because its dumb. It takes away from living life to the fullest. Each little thought of worry distracts you from seeing all the wonderful things about each passing moment. It blinds you to the joy that is experiencing life.

Just breathe, I tell myself.

In.
Out.
It’s simple.
Everything is going to be okay.
This is a chance to learn.
To grow.
To love.

Because isn't it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Love, even if it flows only one direction, is never void.  

(To all the teenage girls reading this right now, PLEASE STOP thinking about One Direction. Get that good-looking Harry Styles out of your head this instant! Thank you!)

But above all, I have to remind myself that I don’t need other people to complete me. I don’t need others to feel whole.

I don’t need it.

And neither do you.

You don’t need other people to complete you.

And that’s a lesson that took me a long time to learn. I think I am just now grasping that concept.

So even if my fears do come true, if I really do lose in this situation, I have to remember all the good things I can gain. Even though I could be losing in one sense of the word, I am gaining SO much more. Gaining knowledge, strength, wisdom, love, discernment….  Everything I will go through will grow me in some sort of way. Given enough time there will be a garden of beautiful things planted within my identity. That is something that I look forward too.

At some point apathy must stop and action must begin. Eventually, self-pity must end and optimism must push through.  

Here’s to you kind friend! While you know what you said, you know nothing of what it spoke to me.

Senior Year: Day Two. Completed! 

Senior Year (Day One): You Will Endure

Well today was my first day of my senior year.

And I feel……..

Older?        

Wiser?

More Mature?

Haggard?

the same.

I don’t feel any different. 

While I was driving myself to school (for the first time, I might add. Judge me. I don’t care.) Something occurred to me. This could very well be my LAST first day ever.

I’m really not sure about college next fall. It’s certainly an option I am thinking about, but I definitely don’t feel like it is a must. It’s not do or die. It’s actually kind of nerve-racking, scary, terrifying. This is my last year to be a kid. I feel like my life starts next year.

And I have no idea what I want to do with it.

I have to remind myself daily that it's not the end of the world if I don’t go to college, just because everyone thinks I should. It does not mean that I won’t amount to anything. It does not mean I am or will be a failure. It just means I have chosen a different path, and that is totally okay!

Today went well, I feel. It was pretty smooth…… expect for that one moment when I didn't hit the latch on the door hard enough and I ended up face slamming into it. We are talking, leaving a spit mark on the door, glasses falling to the floor, making everyone in the cafeteria turn and look at me.

Way to go, Chase. Real smooth. Oh you know, just causally slamming into an aluminum door.  The ladies love that, right?!?!

But, its whatever. I’m not bitter about it or anything.I hated that door anyway. Apparently the feeling was mutual

For my first class we are watching Jane Eyre. We have not finished it yet but I’m looking forward to seeing how the story develops.

While I was watching, something really stuck out at me.

I don’t even know where this came from, or if I made it up but I so clearly remember it being said.

“You will endure what you are told too.”

*Insert light bulb moment.*

It was in the moment that reality hit me hard- really hard. Hello there, Mr. Slap-in-the-face. You will endure what you are told too. Let that sink in for a moment and churn through your brain.  You will endure what you are told too. Suddenly so many things became apparent to me.

First, you don’t owe your emotions anything. You do not owe your thoughts anything.  Neither of these things owns you. It’s important to remember that. 

I am only human and yes, sometimes I am selfish and rude. Sometimes I feel insecure and inadequate. Sometimes I feel really sad and very broken. And that is okay because I am only human. Sometimes I have bad feelings and sad thoughts. Sometimes I like rolling around in self-pity, to wallow in self-doubt, be covered with the mess that is hate and judgment.

I just can’t unpack and live there. These things are not a home. You cannot move in. Making yourself comfortable under those conditions is impossible. To let those things control me is NOT okay.

But why then, do we?! The fact that I tell myself daily that I need to endure poor emotional conditions is pathetic. I find that heartbreaking, and quite frankly, I'm over it!

These things happen to everyone. At some point we ALL feel badly but sometimes it’s easier to feel completely alone, isolated from reality, distanced from the world.  I finally understand that there is so much freedom that comes with not taking your feelings personally.

Secondly, we either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same. It is up to you to do the work.

Life is tough. Sorry, that’s just the way it is. That’s just the way it’s going to be. But here’s the good news, life might be tough, but so are you! Sometimes it’s a struggle; however, the trick is to not see it as a struggle but as a journey. Sometimes I fail, and that’s ok. That’s the polarity of life. I can think of a million different reasons why I should hate myself every single day. But the good part is that I can think of 5 million reasons why I should love myself instead.

I firmly believe you will get nothing different from this world, if you do not change your attitude. It's all about the state in which you dwell.

And that my friends, is what was learned on the  first day of school.

#BOOM!

Reminder:

You will endure what you allow yourself  too.

The Presence Of Something Wonderful..

“The memories pulse through my brain as if they are my blood;

the retentions of nights spent with you

are the life-sustaining oxygen to my mind.

I crave the reviving structure

to the things that make me who I am.

My memories are the architecture of my identity.

It’s the recollection of beauty,

the consciousness of whimsy.

It’s the consummate,

unequaled

and tangible contingency

of freedom

and unadulterated emotion.

The remembrance of driving with

the windows down

through silent country roads-

the wind blowing through our hair-

of dirty feet and using grass as my only pillow,

the lawn mowers as my lullaby.

It’s the simple things that have the most meaning.

But above all, it was you.

The music was loud.

The days were hot.

The nights were cool,

and your voice was the soundtrack to my summer.”

It’s funny the way that one summer can change anything, the way it can change everything, the way it did change everything. Sometimes one summer is all you need.

This summer changed it all for me. I can say undoubtedly that this summer was the best summer of my life. Yes I understand, I am young, and therefore have only seen 18 summers, but out of all of them so far, this one has been my favorite. These past three months will hold a very special place in my mind and in my heart.

Sometimes I am so busy with life that I forget to live.

Sometimes I find myself saddened by the fact that my life spent as a teenager is almost over. Just as I am starting to get the hang of the awkward moment that IS teenage life, it’s fading away from me, slipping out of my grasp.

But seriously though, could you like not right now? Because if adult-hood could not find me, that would be great! Why can’t I just stay 18 for a few more years? Or, maybe, you know, like, a few more decades? In fact, can I just NOT grow up? Growing up would seriously cut into my schedule of being awesome!

But, I digress.

For me, it is so important to remember these moments- no matter how small they are - because most often help within the small things, the moments that are so easily missed, is when life happens.

Don’t get me wrong, this summer was overflowing with “B-I-G” moments, they were packed in there like sardines, more stuffed then a Chinese man’s stomach at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

I turned 18. HALLA TO BEING LEGAL.

I got my first car. YEAH FOR FREEDOM!

(Both happened on the same day, I might add.)

I went on a life changing missions trip to Africa.

Just to check a few off the list.

While I wouldn't trade those for anything, there was SO much more. I have come to realize that it was in all the “small” moments of my every day and ordinary life that the extraordinary things happened. There is a lot to be said about being young and free, crazy and sometimes dumb. However, it wasn’t about all that could be said, but what could be felt.

I have learned to always be on the search for the presence of something wonderful. Because it is there, I promise. And sometimes you have to adventure to find it, but that’s the fun of it. 

One of the things I loved most was that this summer was spontaneously. Besides going to Africa in June, I had literally nothing on my calendar, yet somehow I managed to be doing something spur-of-the-moment every.single.day.

I had dance parties daily. Going to the lake was a weekly thing. Driving with the windows down and the radio LOUD was required. Laughing until I cried was enforced. Hugs were welcomed. And food fights (Yes, I am actually serious) were accidents. (I’m positive I’m not allowed to show my face at that Steak-N-Shake ever again.)

(Because how could you not take a picture after having a food fight. Shoutout to Roman for photo-bombing us)

This summer was just indescribable.

Completely amazing. 

Incredibly whimsical.

Euphoria at its best.

And I am so incredibly grateful for all of it.

Falling in love with my life, falling in love with my friends and the AMAZING people they are, falling in love with the person I am morphing into, falling in love with morning, noon, and night, with truly everything, is something that is priceless.

Truly experiencing the world around me, the people I love, the people that love me back, new music, new food, a new everything, was altering for me.

Because of this summer I am forever changed.

It may have been the summer that stumbled upon me, but it was myself that I found.

It may have been the summer that I adventured through, but who I was that I discovered.

For it was not only the changing of a season, but a transformation within myself.

This summer changed everything.

(Summer included, but not limited to: late nights, LOTS of laughter, LOTS of hugs, piercings, music, singing, dancing, frolicking, late night trips to Walmart, late night trips in general, snuggling, cuddling, junk food, even more laughter, sleepovers, Starbucks, being chased around the Starbucks parking lot, loud music, more hugging, all nighter’s spent talking and star gazing, trampolines, polaroid’s, picture taking, recording music, traveling, traveling some more, traveling over 25,000 miles, ponytails, shorts, movie marathons, baking, selfies, sewing endless amounts of fabric, sleeping, adventuring, exploring, bonding with people, reading, creating, parks, volleyball, fireworks, road trips, movie soundtracks, snapchats, making new friends, new experiences, randomness, nostalgia, freedom SO.MUCH.LOVE., and SO.MANY.OTHER.GOOD. WONDERFUL.THINGS.)

P.S. I’m sorry to whoever had the clean up the ruins and debris from our food fight. It was Dayton’s fault. He started it.

Also, I’m sorry to Dayton for staining your shirt.

But you did have it coming.

That one time for my 18th birthday I piled myself and two of my guy best friends in the bed of my dad's truck. We were crammed jammed, and woke up in weird and awkward positions all night long, but it was definitely worth it!

We saw Brandon's car at Southlake Town Square, so we modeled on it. Turns out it wasn't and we were on a random stranger's car. That was interesting.... Awkward! But it's whatever cause we are sexy...

Photoshoots in Denton Town Square. Don't let this selfie fool you. It was hotter than Channing Tatum hades. We were sweating like whores in church Beyonce after a concert. 

That one time I took a last minute road trip and we drove across these things. So we had to take some selfies. #Modelstatus. You only wish to be as cool as us!  

Late night shenanigans. Same Mirror. Different night. I promise. 

                                   or do I?

Burning brownies and cookies. Baking and Polaroids.  

Sometimes one summer is all you need.

One summer was all I needed.

THIS summer was all I needed.

And it will be the summer I never forget. 

Peanut Butter

An annoying sense of urgency flooded my veins, my heart beat beginning to pump blood faster than necessary.

It was meet-the-teacher?

Open house?

School orientation night?  

Whatever you wanted to call it.

Whatever it was exactly, it had not even started and I was ready to be done. To say I had a case of senioritis would be an understatement. It’s really bad, y’all. I will definitely need to see a doctor soon.

And by doctor, I mean extended vacation.

Ugh! Another year of education awaited me, breathing down my neck with its homework, blood, sweat, and tears because there would most definitely be tears. I had a hard schedule. My most tough courses I had yet to face and I knew it. The odds of them completely kicking my butt were inevitable.

Because this was my senior year, and for some unknown and incredibly stupid reason, I waited, avoided, the hard classes. Welcome to procrastination at its finest.

I opened the green folder - denying what I knew I would see- digging around, finding a small slip of paper. I read it to myself holding it closer to my face than needed. I had never expected that I would see THIS.

PB?? What the crap is PB?? What does that even mean??

I started mentally checking off the list of things PB could possibly stand for. When in doubt… process of elimination, that’s what I say.

Peanut butter?

Personal best?

Prison break?

Public bank?

Private bank?

Pandora’s box?

Public broadcasting?

Paint brush?

President Bush?  

Post box?

Princess bride?

“I’m just going to go with Peanut Butter,” I told myself. “That’s probably the best option.”

But then it hit me.

PB. Ugh! I knew exactly what PB meant.

PB. Portable B. The dreaded Portable B.

And I’m spending three out of my 5 classes in that room. That’s right, I’ll be spending 75% of my year in a portable. MY SENIOR YEAR, FOLKS!!! But seriously though, how Redneck is that? We are talking I have reached Hunny-Boo-Boo and marrying your cousin level of redneck. I think I’d rather chop my foot off. Can you not just give me the Kunta Kinte treatment, instead?

The denial hit me like a brick wall. This can’t be. There’s no way I’m taking classes in a hot in summer, cold in the winter, creaky floored, probably leaks when it rains portable. No thanks. I’ll pass.

Its taken a few hours, but I think I’m finally past the first few stages of grief.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

And now, acceptance.  

This is my senior year and I’m sure it’s going to be great; or at least, that’s what they tell me.

So this is my senior year, according to me, while stuck in Portable B.

Ladies and gentlemen, let the 76^th annual Hunger Games begin and may the odds be ever in my favor.