medication

I've told so many people who've struggled that there is absolutely NO SHAME in reaching out, asking for help, going to a therapist and getting medication. I've given the whole just because you can't see depression doesn't mean it isn't real/ a real illness shpill at least a dozen times. I really do believe that, and I would never ever think any less of anyone who tried to help themselves- in fact, I think that it's really good when people take care of themselves.

So why is it so hard for me to stay medicated? I haven't been taking my anti-depressant very much lately (that's my bad). My life has been pretty good and so I just stopped taking it.

DONT DO THAT.

I really struggle with taking my pills. I know they help, but it's still hard for me to take them. I hate the fact that I have to take a pill to feel/act like a decent human being. I know there's nothing wrong with it but the back of my brain tells me "You're not good enough." which is not true. No one wants me to have crazy mood swings and be depressed all the time, even the people who don't like me wouldn't wish that on me. But I still have the hardest time accepting that depression isn't just going to go away now that life isn't so hard. The past year has probably been the best of my life so I just thought I'd be happy.

 I was wrong.

Anyone that struggles with depression can tell you how hard that is. Everything is fine but all of the sudden you're crying and so sad for no reason. It's presented some new challenges, ones that I'm still learning how to deal with.

I was diagnosed with depression at 12, I've been doing this for about 8 years you think I'd be smart enough to figure out that taking your prescribed medication in the correct amount is a good idea. I'm really smart sometimes. So I'm going to start taking it again like I'm supposed to and hopefully that solves the majority of my problem. I absolutely need to actively change my attitude, I need to re-learn how to be happy- which is a weird thing to say, but for so long I was dealing with hurt and all I could do was focus on just making it through the day. I went numb and didn't let myself feel anything. I'm letting myself feel stuff again. I hate it. A lot. I like to pretend to be a robot but I don't think that will be very fulfilling so I'm trying to open myself up and be emotionally vulnerable. I'm terrible at it. I'm like an onion (layers). Like you get past one of my emotional barriers and bam there's another- also I make people cry (because of my terrible analogies and puns). It's really scary but that's the next step to take right?

What that means is I need to make some apologies. Which I really don't want to do, but the people I spend time with deserve better. They don't deserve how I've been treating them. Life is really good right now and has a lot of good things going for me. So I need to act like it and take care of myself so I don't sabotage what I have going right.

Make sure you take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy and the people around you deserve the best version of you.

Language

You know my internal dialogue is basically a Steven King novel. Narrated by Samuel L. Jackson of course. By which I mean, every third word is the f-bomb, all I hear in my head is pulp fiction.

Unfortunately when you've hit this point the f bomb doesn't seem to really do it anymore. It used to be the ultimate insult but now it just makes me laugh. To be fair it's a pretty crazy acronym. It literally stands for fornication under consent of the king. Guess who coined the term? Chuck E. Cheese. That's right folks, Charles Entertainment Cheese a 80s/90s icon is the fiend responsible for this. Just kidding, I just wanted to use his full name (Charles Entertainment Cheese). Crazy King Henry came up with the term because he basically would try to have sex with anything that moved around him. Sure it's nasty but it's no worse than about half of what I hear from media.

I wish there were stronger words that held a little more power because right now my greatest insult is "If you were a spice you'd be flour." it comes courtesy of Tina from Bob's Burgers. I feel like that has more sting than my second favorite insult "douche canoe".

While that's the more funny end of the spectrum then there's the L word. To me, there's not a more intimidating word in the English language (excluding Batman). Being affectionate in general freaks me out. The idea of hearing those words makes me want to quickly punch myself in the face to kill those brain cells before I actually start to think about it.

I grew up hearing those words from my biological grandparents and my aunts and uncles. They all abandoned me for money (and because their heads are shoved so far up their butts that the only thing in their brains is complete crap).  That happened to me when I was a kid and I haven't liked anything mushy since. It just makes me uneasy and puts me on edge, when I hear those things I immediately prepare for that person to let me down. It's really fun. That's why I try really really hard to only say things I mean. It's also why I bully people to show affection because I don't believe any sort of lovey dovey crap. I haven't for a really long time.

looking at memes for hours a day has lead to this great discovery.

But people run around throwing the word love out like it doesn't mean anything. Or they say that they love everything and then I realize we don't mean the same thing by the word love. To be fair, I haven't always been so careful with my words. But that has all changed within the last two years. I want my words to have a lot of meaning, so when I tell someone something they know it's not just 'being nice' or avoiding an awkward conversation. That's why I've basically only told my closest friends I love them, or that I love something about someone. That is still hard. It makes me cringe because it's admitting to having feelings. Letting people know that I'll be there for them while simultaneously admitting I'm not a taco loving robot is just being too vulnerable. Not. About. That.

Not being able to trust the family I had does not make me eager to let other people into my life. In any capacity. That's why I'm not sure I'll ever say those words romantically (that's the big one). Because I feel like the people around me don't get that being 'in love' isn't really a feeling. It's a commitment.

This kind of commitment.

It's deciding to choose someone every day, even when you when you want to strangle them a little bit. Even when it's not a super fun or glamorous. When things are really hard and pushes you to edge. In moments when you want to call it quits and wonder why you're doing what you're doing. It's remembering why you started loving that person in the first place. It's really selfless. More selfless than anything I could imagine because I haven't experienced it. We're all really selfish until we have to be selfless. It's not for a lack of trying or being a bad person, but until you're forced to put someone else first on a regular basis it's impossible to know what it feels like. You can't really know what a parent's love until you have a kid of your own you'd sacrifice anything for. Same thing with having a partner. That is pretty scary to me because no matter how much you prepare you can't really ever be ready for love, it's an absolute risk. (Also, who wants cooties? Or to cross-contaminate their chapstick.)

Let's keep it that way. Use your own chapstick.

Risk isn't something I'm a big fan of (except the board game- I could definitely pretend to take over the world all day).  But maybe there's something to it. If Gotham is ever safe and I have the time to take those emotional risks I'll definitely let like two of you know. It's weird to think that a four letter word can be so life changing (I was talking about the second one we discussed...). So before you believe someone who says that they love you make sure you know what it means to them and to you. Make sure it's the same kind of love. You deserve better than to be treated poorly by the people who 'love' you. Be careful with how you use "love", who you say it to, and why you're saying it; It means different things in different circumstances. It can motivate people to change or be brave. It can hurt or heal people. It can make someone see the world in a completely different way or realize what true sacrifice is.

Love is much more than a word.

For the man who has everything.

Feel free to skip this paragraph, it has zero relevance to what I'm talking about. The first salsa manufacturing sight in the U.S. came out in 1948. Salsa popularity really kicked off in the early nineties. How blessed am I to have salsa as a common condiment for my entire existence? I can't imagine that beautiful concoction of fruit/vegetable guts not being a staple in my house. I think people who were born as late as 1938 must have strong character to have survived without salsa being a dip everyone had. Anyways, moving on:

I've had some pretty weird dreams. One time I dreamt that I was being chased by Chucky (the ugly ginger doll) and it was a musical, as in, anything said/yelled/screamed was to a tune and pretty melodic. I had a dream I was painting an abstract portrait of Amy Poehler during the zombie apocalypse where everyone spoke in Pirates of the Caribbean quotes.  Recently I had one about being a butch lesbian in love with Anne Hathaway where I also attended Micheal Jackson's funeral. Last Friday night I dreamt of Guy Fieri (Like the bleach blonde food network dude) being in a commercial trying to sell chef boyardee ravioli in a can and  the back drop was fire. It literally looked like he was in hell trying to get you to buy the fancy version of spaghettios. I have no idea what any of this means but they're entertaining. Unfortunately this isn't my typical dream.

I'm feeling so lucky because I'm on a streak, on Tuesday I woke up in the middle of the night and started puking because of my dream and then Saturday night I had the worst dream I've had in a long time (maybe ever) .It wasn't my typical wake up sweating in the middle of the night/ Will Graham/The ring nightmare type of dream. It was a dream that felt so real and it showed me exactly what I wanted to see. In my dream the people who told me they'd love me my whole life did. It was my life as I wished it was, there is nothing more painful than waking up and realizing that it isn't real. That the people I trusted gained profits at my expense. So I'm shaking a little thinking about it. I feel nauseous but luckily I'm over the the crying part (thanks church for giving me a space to cry where people don't ask why I'm crying). But it reminded me of the moment I knew I loved Batman, and I am so grateful for that.

There's an episode of Justice League Unlimited called "For the man who has everything" In which superman and batman are both at one point being fed illusions by the Black Mercy (It's an alien plant thingy). What the Black Mercy does is feed you your deepest desire, it shows you the life you wish you had known. Bruce saw a life full of happiness with his family who were in reality gunned down in front of him. When wonder woman was trying to remove the black mercy from Bruce he knew, it wasn't real. The pain of removing it is described as "tearing off your own arm" and while it takes his breath away he goes back to work. He doesn't let denial take over to be able to live his fantasy no matter how badly he wants to believe it. He knows it isn't real and that he must fight his own desires to help others. He just relived his worst moment and was able to change it only to have it torn away from him again and he just moves on because he knows there's more at stake than just him. That's beautiful. Superman on the other hand is not okay. He's shown what his life on Krypton would be like. He has a family and when the black mercy is removed he cannot keep it together.  He can't see that he has the most out of anyone. He's hysterical over a life he never even experienced. He was sent to earth as a baby. He has the most loving adoptive parents, he has Jimmy and Lois. But he still is beyond devastated by this illusion he almost compromises his own standards. He can't see how good he has it. That his life still closely resembles his dream. He still has the nerve to say "Do you know what I've lost?" Of course it would be hard, but he didn't even know what he was missing. He doesn't consider the people who love him or what he has in the moment. Clark is weak shit. I could probably beat him up, I'd just have to tell a mean your mom joke and say something like "If I were on krypton I'd rather stay there and get blown to hell than go anywhere you." and he'd be bawling on the ground. Gross. 

Superman used to be my favorite superhero. The boy-scout in blue tights and I used to have the same attitude, then I experienced 'real life'. He can't see that sometimes rules have to be broken for the greater good. His whole life is black and white and he is never forced to see past that. He never progresses, because he's invincible. His constant monologuing to serial murderers changing their ways is the dumbest thing, pretty sure your "that's not nice" speech won't do anything to change those bad guys Clark. I'd rather have him fry my brain out then listen to one of his self righteous speeches. He's stuck in his ignorance and stupid haircut. (That one little dinky hair curl drives me INSANE.) So his greatest foe is a rock, his constant existential crises, and "what does it meant to be a hero?" Which is lame as hell. To be fair, a lot of this is me projecting onto him but I'm not a perfect person. Also he is the worst kind of like Toby Flenderson soooo anyways... I used to believe in truth justice and the american way until I was in the legal system/going through court. I now know that justice is a label slapped on a broken system that so often completely fails to do anything for the victim. I've seen so much idiocy in court thinking about it makes my blood boil. I wish I could get away with being batman but: 1-I'm poor 2-not intimidating 3-not in shape 4-suck at fighting 5-not that smart. Which is too bad, because If I could punch bad guys who buy their way out of trouble in the face every night I so would. Even if I ended up with a lot of stitches and broken ribs. (On the flip side I've doubled my brooding time and I'm a little mean so I'm getting a little closer.)

That's why I love Bruce, despite not having faith in people and seeing the absolute worst of humanity he would do anything for them. The kind of hopelessness he feels never makes him stop his mission. Even if he questions if what he does is worth it. He sacrifices everything to try to prevent anyone from ever experiencing what he went through. He channels his pain into something productive and no matter how bad he hurts he always gets back up. Batman has to be brave. Every moment of every day in a way superman never will. So even though I'm shaken up I'm okay. Because If batman can do it then I can to (Leave me in my denial where I can compare my existence to batman's okay?).

Also I really really really don't want to be like superman, so I'll do it out of spite if nothing else (You suck Clark).

square one

I've been doing so good lately. I feel like I finally found my people (outside the semi-annual comic con in salt lake). I've been making friends. I have game nights with some of the most stellar girls I've had the pleasure of meeting. I've been more social the past couple of months then I ever been in my entire life. It's been AWESOME. I think this is why kids liked high school. I've cut ties to the people with emotionally parasitic relationships and have been really good about keeping it all together. Then there was yesterday.

The hardest part about dealing with everything is something I don't really talk about. Not really even on my blog or with really close friends. It's still too hard. Even after all this time (Great, now my eyes are uncontrollably vomiting). It literally makes me feel sick to my stomach. I lost someone I can't get over. It still keeps me up at night, the things I never said from when I was about twelve years old. It's not a relationship that can be repaired and it is soul wrenching. It's why I'm such a loud bold person now, I can't let it go and I don't want anything else to leave me feeling like this. 

Yesterday has left me numb, I'm waiting for the back slide to take me back to square one. I'll start all over again. Yesterday an ex-relative who chose a pedophile over me showed up at my work (coincidentally, he wasn't trying to find me), I knew he was coming in so I was going to leave early. He however decided to drop in WAY before his eta (you know over 5 hours early). The father of the only person who I miss enough to cry over anymore. I ran upstairs and avoided him (it was either that or go to jail for stabbing him in his stupid motherfing eyes), but I could hear him and he said something that completely devastated me. I'm surprised at how well I've been doing but next Tuesday is going to be really really hard. I don't have any more emotional energy to talk about this. I'm not sure I'll ever bring it up again. I know that the people who know me are probably like:

"WHY YOU VAGUEBOOKING?"

(I only know how to deal with my feelings through memes.)

But I just feel like I've made so much progress and life has just knocked me on my ass and is trying to push me back to a place I don't want to be in. It doesn't even feel real, being confronted with one of the only things that is close enough to something that can really hurt me.  I honestly don't know what to say, life feels like a really sick joke right now. 

Memes would be appreciated. Because I just feel like I can't win right now. I know that's not true. I know I'm going to be okay. But for right now I'm not. So I'm going to take some time to get back up from this. Normally I can bounce back up easily, not this. It's like I just took a bullet...

If I randomly lose my shit, you know why. If I randomly lose it and people haven't read this I feel bad for them. I hope someday all of my feelings are replaced by doctor pepper and pizza. Being a robot sounds really good right now. Unfortunately that probably won't happen. So I'm just going to double my brooding time for a couple days and Gotham is just going to have to take care of itself for a minute. If you need me I'll be reading comics underneath a pile of blankeys (Do I sound five? Yup. Do I care? No.). 

Please don't need me. I don't have anything left to give anyone for a couple days except the effort I'm putting into being a decent human being when people have to interact with me. SEND ME MEMES.

(Okay universe, I owe you one. Just as I was about to publish this my best friend called me. My day just got a little better.)

Anniversary

This is not for everyone. If you are in a bad place or have been deeply affected by suicide or thoughts of suicide you may want to skip this one. :)

*Que the Bee Gees stayin' alive as background music*

I'm twenty years old (I'll need to pick out a nursing home so recommendations would be greatly appreciated). I cannot believe I made it here. Five years ago if you had asked me where I thought I'd be now I'd probably just cry, I'd never say it by my answer would be six feet under.
I remember when I got to my sixteenth birthday party I had the thought "I'm so glad I didn't kill myself." I still struggled after the fact, but I made it. Which is a little terrifying, for so long I didn't know if I could handle another week on the planet, looking years into the future is really intimidating. But even if I spend the rest of my life accomplishing nothing but eating chicken nuggets, it'll be a life worth getting through. (Money can absolutely buy happiness, has anyone had honey mustard before?!)

There were days where I would cry myself to sleep knowing I'd wake up in the morning. Even breathing would ache.  Every day I'd wake up and stumble through the endless hours. I didn't ever tell anyone, although looking back I was basically the sophomore version of a Taylor Swift album so someone probably caught on. Because I was afraid. I knew if I told my therapist they were legally obligated to act on it, I knew if I told my mom I'd end up in the hospital and I'd only be further behind in a life that I hated. I couldn't bear the thought of catching up when I could barely live in the moment. I didn't say anything because I didn't want people to treat me differently. I just didn't want to be me anymore, but I knew perfectly well I couldn't be someone else.

Although I have taken steps to deal with it, my PTSD has caused me to have nightmares for years. They're a lot better now, or at least I've adjusted to them. I used to be actually afraid to go to sleep. I'd tell my family good night and go down to my room only to sneak back upstairs to the kitchen and silently sit on a chair watching the oven clock tick by until three or four in the morning when I would actually start to involuntarily fall asleep. I'd dream things that I'll remember for the rest of my life. All of the my worst fears realized over and over again. Seeing absolutely everything I cared about crushed into dust while I had absolutely no control, and no matter how hard I tried I could never change anything. I didn't know what sleep paralysis was at the time, so I didn't know what to do about these 'real' experiences. The worst episode I ever had ended after I had clawed my throat in my sleep until it was raw and bled. I was so shaken up I didn't dare leave my bed or turn off my light. I sat against my headboard for the rest of night waiting for hours so that morning would come and someone could come rescue me.

For countless nights I tried to rationalize my pain by asking myself "Is the worst thing that could happen to you waking up in the morning?" my answer was always yes. I'd try to reassure myself and every night tell myself "Ask yourself again tomorrow." I to reminded myself what it was like when someone I knew died from suicide. I tried to fight the feelings of worthlessness. Every night at bed I would write a letter to someone I loved explaining why I had to go. I didn't want to leave anyone with questions, or why's. I started writing to people who had influenced me and people I barely knew. I don't know how many months I kept this up before I decided I couldn't take it anymore.  I went up into the kitchen in the early morning and poured all my sleeping pills into my hand. I got myself a glass of water and recalled what the past years had been like. What I might miss. Then I thought about how I would just go to sleep, how there wouldn't be another thing to bother me. It sounded like bliss.

Then I thought of my wonderful brothers. What if my mom tried to get me up and sent down one of my little brothers to get me up? What kind of trauma would they deal with for the rest of their life that I had selfishly caused them? I considered walking up into the foothills, but it was freezing. I didn't want to die uncomfortably. My mind told me "You're even to cowardly to kill yourself, you deserve every second of suffering you have. You can't even end it." I cried as I put the pills back. The hardest decision of my life was marked solely by an almost inaudible clicking as the capsules fell back into their plastic tube. I went back to bed, because even though I hated myself I decided to stay alive for someone else. I felt like I had already died inside. Things couldn't get worse and I had gone this long already.

I decided to get through it. Maybe I could do something right and stick around so I wouldn't mess anything else up. I kept writing letters to people around me, it was incredibly painful but it also helped me realize who I might effect, who might miss me. I'd write about how I hoped they'd end up. That they should name one of their kids Bruce. How I knew they would make other people laugh. That I was proud of the person that they were becoming. After that I could see why I should stick around to tell them all of those things in person, and not let them guess about what might've happened. I still have most of them tucked away in a journal. Right now they're to painful to look at, but I'm glad that I have them. The thing that kept me going was realizing I had a lot in my life to value even if I didn't value myself. On the flip side I've kept every nice thing anyone has ever given me, It was something physical I could see that people spent time to think of me. I finally got rid of the notes my friends gave me in junior high this year. They gave me something to hold on to, to love the people around me. Without writing and receiving those letters I really don't think I would be here.

I'm 100% sure my life will never be that hard again. Now I know I can get through anything, because I have (that doesn't make me sound cliche or like an arrogant jack-ass at all...). I was able to make it passed the things I thought would destroy who I was. Things I didn't want to make it through. Times where I felt completely alone. That doesn't mean life isn't hard. That doesn't mean I don't have really bad days where I want to hurt myself again. That doesn't mean I'll ever sleep easy. What it means is that I'm always going to be able to see something that's worth sticking around for. Because no matter how I feel about myself, or what my depression tells me, I'm going to be able to look around me and see goodness in what's around me.

Gaining that perspective is how I make it. I feel like that's how most people who consider taking their own life make it. Seeing the value in others eventually lets you see that you have value as well. Realizing people care slowly opens your eyes to your own strengths (Jack Black impersonations, it's my calling). So write down the reasons you have to be happy and grateful. Even though I don't want to say anything remotely mushy (or most the time even nice) I'm going to make sure that I have a reason to consider them. Even though that's seriously gross it keeps me going. For as terrible as the world around me is, there is always a reason to love something about it. That's worth fighting to stick around for.

Syrup runs thicker than water.

I don't know if I'll ever have kids. I wouldn't ask anyone to live the life I've lead. I've been at the end of my rope so many times, I can't imagine being responsible for another human being at the same time. It seems absolutely terrifying to bring someone into this world who you'll love more than anything else, a little vulnerable soul who becomes your life. Who you will help shape and grow and watch them become an adult, to see them innocent and then heartbroken, to see them fail and succeed. I can't imagine the pain and unspeakable joy watching their journey would cause. I'm not sure that I want to know, how could I ever be a good mom? The qualities it takes are so selfless and demanding. I guess if I have a kid that really needs walrus impressions to keep them grounded I'd be alright, I can't speak for anything else though. For the women who have chosen to be mothers, I have the greatest respect. But that doesn't mean women who have had children.

I think being a mother requires so much more than giving someone DNA. It means you have to be a warrior to fight for your children, a teacher to show them what they're capable of, a leader so they know what is wrong and right, and a confidant and friend who will love you unconditionally. Sometimes I meet women who have never had the chance to have children of their own, or cannot, but it doesn't stop them from nurturing and raising the people around them. They help so many people grow and set them up for success. That definitely earns them the title of mother (or as I like to call them bonus moms). Sadly I know so many DNA donors who are not mothers. They disprove the whole 'blood runs thicker than water' phrase. I think that's what makes me so proud of my mom, she has shown me family is much more than blood. 

For those of you who don't know my mom broke her back and her neck when I was 12. It should've killed her. She didn't even end up paralyzed. It's an incredible miracle and granted me a second chance to love her and value what she's given me. I know I still do, but I try my best to never take her for granted because I know that life is unpredictable. I'm trying to love her like every day is the last I'll have with her, because for a moment in my life I thought that might come true. Maybe people think I'm a little too attached to my mom, honestly we could be handcuffed together forever for all I care. She is the most miraculous woman I know. Together we're two halves of a whole idiot (it's our catch phrase, it's fine).

She has to deal with tremendous pain everyday. She faces each day with a smile and courage. Despite the metal in her body literally causing her to ache she stays positive and loving. She doesn't let her injury stop her from trying new things, she is so brave. She has the most beautiful soul, and even when I'm irritated with her for being a little bit too much like Dr. Phil (5 years of a therapy does a number on ya) I know that it comes from love and kindness. I can't imagine my life without her. If she wasn't my mom I honestly don't think I wouldn't still be here. I can't see anyone I know being able to give me the strength she has.

She listens to my thoughts and lame jokes, lets me share my passions even though she has almost no idea what I'm talking about. She's taught me standing up for what's right is more important than anything else. Despite the tremendous loss in her life she is strong and fights for the truth. She cares so deeply about the people around her. If I ended up even a little like my mom I would be proud. Her mom didn't choose her. but she knows how to choose me. Her entire family abandoned her, and yet she isn't bitter and raising her own. She still has so much faith in people. It's beautiful.

She is without a doubt my inspiration, my sidekick, and my example. She is the reason I have such passion, the reason I'm not just a phenomenal douche bag (at least not all the time...), and the reason I learned to get back up. She started me down a path I know I will be able to be proud of. While I'm not even close to being a super hero I have a mom who could raise one. 

Dates are a fruit.

I have a lot of stuff I want to talk about, most of it is heavy and unpleasant but not today. It should be super evident that I write from the heart, my grammar and punctuation on these posts are atrocious. I’m glad to see that a whopping 25 of you have read my last post anyway (I’m not kidding that’s a lot). I said I had 100 friends the other day. I have like 300. I even got rid of 15 people who I haven't talked to in a couple years and have 50 unread friends requests I will continue to avoid. Holy shiz balls. I legit have at least mild interest in the well being of 300 people. How did that happen? I get out of my parents basement like twice a month. So I just proved myself a liar. Awesome.

ANYWAYYYYS let’s talk about my incredible talent to ruin dates. Also to generally repel the other sex, far, far away.

It probably has to do with the fact that overwhelm my dates with my walrus impression mad skillz. Or maybe that after gaining some weight, I have a Jay Leno chin. (Seriously, I have a terrible chin/double chin going on, my weight went straight there why????) It could also be that I aspire to be Jack Black and act like Dwight Schrute. I mean, I think being able to quote almost the entire Nacho Libre movie and episodes of the office is awesome. Past that the only thing I can do is fit an entire pancake in my mouth and eat eight tacos in one sitting. All in all I don't have a lot going for me.

We’re not discussing every case, because while it is few, some were actually horrifically embarrassing or really painful. So I’m going to throw out an honorable mention to all the people I’m not going to be talking about. Thank you all for disappointing me so, so much.

To kind of set up this topic, I want to tell you about the time I tried to kiss a boy. You know the movie Hitch? Seemed pretty good to me, straight forward, uncomplicated. Will Smith is the kind of guy I feel like everyone should be learning from. Well a long time ago I was playing night games with my crush. We ended up hiding behind the same bushes. It was quiet and a pretty cozy space with moonlight shining through the leaves on his face. I thought, this seems like a pretty good place to try to kiss someone, private and kind of cute that we both stumbled upon it. Of course I wasn’t thinking that he was cornered and trapped and had no easy way out and we were sitting in branches and wood chips. So I went for it. I went 90 (90% of the way) my heart pounding in my chest, I still had my eyes open because I had never done this before. He didn’t go the 10. I was not planning on this, I had to cover myself quickly, ‘smoothly’ I said “I gotchya!” and then laughed a really sad sounding awkward forced laugh. Ooops.

Rewind about two years ago. I set my friend up with this guy and they hit it off and they went to the velour to see my favorite band. I was pretty excited when they told me I should double  with them. I ended up being set up with his 16 year old cousin from North Dakota who I (luckily) will never see again. He was a nice guy, the hard feelings have nothing to do with him. We went to the velour and I got to see my favorite band and I saw this really cute guy who was not my date. As my friends were weaving through the people starting to leave, I looked at him one last time. We made eye contact then I turned around, he caught up to me and I ended up getting his number, I told him goodbye. I left in a dash and went outside to catch up to everyone, he ran out and said “Wait! I didn’t get your number!” I was MORTIFIED, I should've told him I would text him. Even though I had absolutely no interest in the nice 16 year old cousin with Justin Bieber hair returning to North Dakota in two weeks, I felt sooo bad. The rest of the night was a little painful, you don't come back from that. The night came to an end and my date walked me to my door, he looked at me awkwardly, I expected a hug but he just left. I thought maybe it was because the date was pretty awkward after the velour, then I got inside and looked in the entry mirror. My bra was just out and about for the whole world to see. My shirt had mostly unbuttoned itself and no one had said anything. I have no idea how long I had been exposed. Best feeling ever.

Last year, in the winter months I went out to eat at an Olive Garden (I swear I’m the only person on the planet that thinks it’s overrated) with a group of friends. I wanted to give a waiter with incredible facial hair my number. Medium story short, Our waitress was his fiance.Thank goodness I was able to dash.

Unfortunately this made me so nervous that when in December of last year when I met freaking Derek Morgan. I was waiting in a long line at Costa-Vida, It was then the single best looking human I’ve ever seen got in line behind me. He walked in and I immediately regretted my mildly homeless signature look. The toddler behind me kept smiling at him I thought, yes. Smile at him for all of us. Why god graced the Costa-Vida of pleasant grove at around 6 p.m. on December 15th 2015 I will never know. He smiled and looked at me and said “Isn’t she cute?” All I could do was stutter nervously “yes”. My mom still hadn't found her way in to join me. I tried to collect myself and then I turned around and informed him he could skip me. He asked “Why?... Are you waiting for someone?”

I’M SUCH AN IDIOT. WHY GOD DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME? WHY? HE WAS SHOWING INTEREST IN ME IN MY NATURAL STATE. I CAN’T PICK UP ON ANYTHING.

I couldn’t believe he was talking to me and I said “Yeah... My mom.” I’m a freaking adult and I said I’m waiting on my mom, I coulve said anything but no. I said my mom. He then skipped me and I now understand he probably thought I was a minor. (Okay maybe he wasn’t interested because that would actually be crazy) On the way out HE WAS SITTING BY HIMSELF and I almost wrote on a napkin with my number on it but because of the waiter experience I didn’t do it. I let the most beautiful human I probably will ever see slip through my fingers. I will never forget you Costa-Vida man. Ever. I will name my first child after our brief moment together, he (or she) will be called sweet pork after our matching burritos. He was sitting by the door and on the way out I told him “You’re chromosomes have aligned beautifully.” Then I ran for cover. He laughed and thanked me as I left. That night I downloaded tinder hours later in an attempt to find that fine chocolate man. I remember the khakis he wore, the beanie, his incredible cardigan, the glasses the amazing suede blue oxfords. This is the one time I didn’t say enough.

I thought I found him (costa-boy) at one point and went on a tinder date with Marcus. He started playing footsies with me after he had told me he never wanted to settle down. He then implied he was ready to have kids. Who aspires to be a baby daddy? Really? That still tops most of the dates I’ve been on. He asked me what I was doing that night and I figured out that was an invitation to sleep with him, I’m sure I was quite the spectacle. I didn’t know what to say other than “You really don’t know that much about Mormons, do you?” That was fun.

After being cat-fished and a couple of dates that made me hate humanity a little bit more, I kind of took a break from dating and deleted tinder.

However, on Monday I went on a double (the second or third date of the year) with a friend. Her dad kept trying to set her up with this kid, so I figured I’d go along. Her date ended up reminding me of Michael Scott if he were an RM (returned Mormon missionary) , so that was interesting. I asked this kid I don’t really know, super nice also tall so that’s a plus.  I asked him what he wanted to do with his life and he gave a real answer and then said “Or I’ll be a male prostitute.” He’s pretty funny. I really had a nice time, he was super sarcastic and either laughed or pity laughed at all of my jokes. I was thinking that I did a good job, and that maybe there was a date number two.

I asked him based on his awesome appearance (he’s the same height as batman), then I found his personality made him better. Crazy rare occurrence. I only regretted about 25-30% of what I said, I was at an all time high for confidence post-date. When I was dropping him off I thanked him for coming. I expected him to just hop out, it was pretty casual. However, I was horrified when he gave me a high-five. To be fair it was in the car and I don’t really know him, but honestly doing nothing would have been better.

I’m for sure going to die alone. I got a high five on a date from someone who may become a prostitute. I received a “Hey, at best this was good but please keep your distance.” I had no idea if I should just leave him alone or if I can even talk to him as a friend. That just feels incredibly low.

Just to be sure that I wasn’t imagining the situation, and because I truly can't take hints, I texted him Thursday and told him thanks for coming. He didn’t respond.

It’s fine, I only have a class with him for the rest of the semester.

The whole “boys get rejected more” may be true, but I feel like I should be included in that group. I even have 7 missing hoodies between my friends. I know I’m only 19 (coming up on 20 feels WEIRD) and I don’t need a boyfriend. I thought I would just share the fact that I will probably be the captain of the virgin lips club forever. I’ll be okay, until someone replaces Freddy Krueger he will stay the man of my dreams. I’m going to go join a nunnery to hide all my failures, maybe I’ll see you around.