I Don't Speak Whore

Dear Sammmmmay,

I really really really love you. Sometimes I wish more then anything that it was Junior year and we were skipping our last block class and sitting in Tim Horton’s drinking Iced Cappucinos and avoiding anybody that looks like our parents. Remember that one time we were skipping and your dad came into Tim Horton’s?! That was the most terrifying but humorous moment ever because you hid in the bathroom and I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. You might not even have been referring to me in your tumblr or anything, but I want you to know that I’m sorry. I never answer texts. I never catch up. I never ask how you’re doing and I’m really sorry. We have so much history. Like SOOOOOOOOOO much history and there are still some things I find I can’t tell anyone else that I go, “Wow, I wish Sam was here so we could talk this over Chinese.” I mean Sam, you went to prom with me in my Buick. It doesn’t get more historical then that.

I know that this late in the year it doesn’t even matter. What with me coming home in exactly two weeks and I’m going to start seeing you again, but I really am sorry for not making an effort. And I know that once I started dating Mike it was like I was gone-whooosh!-out of here and not even on this planet. And I’m sorry for that too. Being with him for almost 10 months really opens up my eyes and made me realize just how important it was to have other friends that weren’t his.

The other thing I want to write about it how you feel like there is no reason for you to be here. I mean I know the feeling. Like what’s the point? We all die anyways and barely any of us are gonna leave a mark. But that’s about the poorest thing I have heard in a while. You can’t make a difference or change your life around in one night, it takes years to get anywhere. I feel so sad that you feel so sad. You should go for a run. Or a walk. Don’t wake up in the morning and sit and watch TV. Just go for a walk. Eat breakfast. Read a book. Try some yoga. Dance around in your room for 15 minutes using a hairbrush as a microphone. Get busy. Set aside some “me” time. Don’t do anything that makes you sad. Color in coloring books. Take up baking or start a garden. And start slow. Don’t do everything at once.

I want you to know that I love you. And I mean it. I really do. It’s not just words. I really really mean it. And I will see you in two weeks.

<3

Best Picture: Up in the Air, Precious, the Hurt Locker

Actor in a Leading Role: George Clooney

Actor in a Supporting Role: Woody Harrelson

Actress in a Leading Role: Gabourey Sidibe

Actress in a Supporting Role: Anna Kendrick (Mo’Nique)

Animated Feature Film: Fantastic Mr. Fox (Up)

Director: Jason Reitman (James Cameron)

Adapted Screenplay: Up in the Air

Visual Effects: Avatar

Original Screenplay: The Messenger

drunk tumlring. fyi, life’s good.

I’m hiding from my family and my boyfriend because I’ve come to realize that I’m 19 years old. I”M 19 YEARS OLD! Where did the time go? Did I cherish it? I don’t remember if I have enjoyed myself along the whole journey. Years seem to have gone by so fast. Is this really what I wanted to do with life? I’m 19 years old. My life could end tomorrow. Or tonight. Or in 20 years. Or in 80 years. Honestly I don’t know how long I’m going to be around for and I’m scared. My brain is not capable of holding all of these thoughts. I wish I would have appreciated everything a bit more before it was too late. It seriously seems too late now. I feel so old. I’m young, but I feel like I’m 35. I hope this lasts forever. This age. I hope next year comes, but comes slowly. Let me enjoy it while I can.

Today the school counselor told me to develop a mantra. A mantra is something that is “capable of transformation.” My counselor wants me to be capable to transform things, I guess. She chose the mantra, “I choose life,” for me. “I choose life,” is what I have to repeat over and over again to myself whenever I have an anxiety attack. Whenever I’m sitting in class, eating dinner, taking a shower, or doing homework, whenever I feel like I am going to die I have to tell myself that I choose life. I CHOOSE LIFE. My name is Sara. I’m Pro-choice. But I CHOOSE LIFE. What this means is I agree to kick my imaginary diseases in the butt. I agree to tell my brain, over and over again, that I am too special to let it make me focus on disease, chest pain, and the fact that I never get my period. Forget the fake blood clot, the fake skin cancer, and the fake brain tumor. Brain, I CHOOSE LIFE! And there is nothing you can do about it. You have no option but to shut up when I want you to. You don’t have any control over me whatsoever. NONE. I am too important to this world. I am going to do so many great things, and NO, you will not get in the way of my plans and my future. Even if you constantly nag me, which you already do. And even if you poke me over and over again, which you already do. No matter what, I’m going to be focused on what I want, and not what you want. You mean nothing. I mean everything. I CHOOSE LIFE.