On Friendship:

I've noticed that when it comes to friends, I tend to make bad choices. I cling to people that hurt me instead of the people that are good for me. I make myself depend on people that consistently put me down, instead of the people that build me up. And I'm trying to change that.

I've also noticed that when I think about why I'm friends with someone, I very rarely think of present events. I remember when times were the best, instead of what they're like now. With Alexa, I always thought of the summer before Junior year, when we'd spend every day just me, her, and Sara. With Ruth, I think about 7th grade and the summer before 8th grade. With Madi, I think about when we started to write Eternity Will Never Be Enough together.

The thing is, that while those times were good and they were a great basis of a friendship, that's not what I should be focused on. I should be focused on the now, why they're my friend now. And with certain friends, I've realized that what used to be isn't good enough anymore.

But I've also noticed that with Jessica, I don't think like that. Sure, last year and this summer were one of the best of my life, but she didn't just make me happy then. She continues to make me happy every day. Every day, she's there for me and builds me up. There are no expectations in this friendship. I don't have to write a certain way, or do drugs, or listen to a certain type of music to be her friend. I just am.

And that's what I like right now.

Again:

You've done this before.

You remind yourself this over and over as your hands grip at your sheets, as though those sheets are the only thing holding you down. And in a sense, they are. Because if it wasn't for those sheets and the way that your hands are intricately wrapped up in them, you're sure you'd be scrambling through your belongings, trying to find something else.

Blades are nothing new to you, in fact, they're anything but that. You remember the way they feel fondly, as though they're an old friend that you've simply lost touch with. But as those thoughts creep into your brain again - hurt yourself, hurt yourself, hurtyourself, hurtyour.. - you twist your hands further into the sheets, as though wrapping them into an invisible shield. In there, you can't reach for the blades. In there, you can forget about the precise way you can use something heavy to break open a razor, and how delicately, you can escape cuts on your fingertips - those always seemed to hurt more - and then you're presented with something wonderful, something harmful.

Later, of course, probably when you calm down, you'll feel okay. You'll realize exactly how irrational these thoughts are, but now, you can't. Now, all you want is pain. Physical pain, that is. You're in enough pain, the feeling in your chest that takes away your breath and the feeling in your head harmonizes to put you in the worst pain that you can imagine. But you want something different, something that actually exists. Something you can see.

But you won't. Maybe it's the knowledge of how you'll disappoint everyone that stops you. Or maybe it's that you know you're not good at keeping secrets anymore. Or maybe it's that you know that doing it - just once. You can escape the pain in your chest just this once... - will always lead to a downfall. Or maybe, it's that marking on your wrist, the tattoo you got for beating this that stops you. But whatever it is, you don't.

And you're right, you've done this before. You've fallen and picked yourself back up more times than you remember, and you'll do it again. And that's what's playing through your head as you lay your head in the tear-soaked pillow and let your brain capture you into a deep, deep sleep.

M-I-Z-Z-O-U:

There's something magical about a new school year, especially now that I'm in my sophomore year of college. Off topic, but isn't it weird to think that I'm a sophomore in college, especially since I started this blog in the summer before I was a junior in high school? But anyway, this year is so much different than last year, and maybe the sole difference is that there was no fear in coming back to school this year. It was just natural, as though I was stepping back into a life that I had just temporarily put on pause.

Immediately after being at school, I redefined my love of school. While I'm the first to answer the question of "Where do you go to school" with a huge smile and a reply of "Mizzou", I realized that my love of Mizzou is more limited to my love of McDavid. From the moment I moved in last year, I exhaled a long breath that had been held in for oh, all twelve years of my previous schooling. McDavid, and furthermore Mizzou, is different than anything I've ever experienced. I flourish here. I thrive here. I am more myself here than I have ever been. There's something about this place that screams acceptance.

And I don't think I fully realized that until I had to go away from it for a little while. But I love this place, I love the people. I must admit, I seem to love this batch of McDavid inhabitants a bit better than last years. I love the organizations. For those of you that don't know, I'm the co-president of Arts Advocates, and I'm in SCAM (Student Council at McDavid). I'm also a Community Leader, which puts me out there and pushes me to get to know everyone I can.

Last year, moving to Mizzou, I encountered a nearly crippling wave of homesickness. Which, luckily, is nowhere to be found this year. Sure, I'm eager to go home. I miss my mom, dad, and of course, my cat. But I'm in no hurry to stay home.

Long story short, I love this place. I thrive here. It's a very, very good place to be.

I was going to make an "end of summer" post

But getting up at 9am today kicked my ass a bit. So here's a picture of my face instead:

I tend to have this problem with words recently. They're worded so... elegantly in my head. But when it comes time to up them down on paper or type them up, I find myself staring at a blank piece of paper or an empty new post box. The words are forever lost in my mind, waiting for me to figure out how to say them.

When they can't find you, you'll turn into a mystery:

While I haven't really taken the time to express what's been going on, I know that a lot of people closest to me know what the last month of my life has been like. Before I get into anything else, I'd like to thank those of you that have been there through my tears, my laughs, and my breakdowns in the last month. And always. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I feel like I've been a mess the last couple of weeks.

It all started on July 8th, when I lost my Grandma Howard unexpectedly. I'd really like to, at some point, take the time to write out how I feel about that. But now is not the time. Simply because I don't have the energy, and that's not what this post is about. A couple days later, my friend Madison went through absolute hell with personal issues. Then, my great-grandma was placed in the hospital due to her having trouble breathing. The next day, my grandma was taken to the hospital after her blood sugar dipped below 15. Which, even if you're not familiar with diabetes, is so near death that even we are baffled as to why she's still with us. After that, my grandpa was admitted to the hospital after having a mini-stroke. And on Friday, my great-grandma was placed back into the hospital. That's what this post is about, really. Her. She's not doing well. Not well at all. I guess there's a part of me that knew this was coming. It's why I moved home this summer, to be near family. I knew that she was getting worse and worse and worse, but I didn't want it to be true.

I don't know all the medical terms for it, or even really what is going on. But what I do know is that she can't breathe. Ever. She's consistently on oxygen because she just can't breathe otherwise. She can't even get out of her chair and walk to the kitchen - a distance of less than twenty feet - without feeling out of breath. She's scared to take a shower because the steam makes it too hard to breathe. My great-grandma is literally suffocating to death, and there is not much they can do except watch her. They can postpone the inevitable, but they can't stop it. Or even make her feel better. Over the last couple days I've seen her go from sitting down and being able to breathe, to simply sitting up in her hospital bed and being breathless as though she'd ran a mile.

Quite frankly, it's breaking my heart.

Today, my mom informed me that when my great-grandma says her prayers every night, she tells God that whenever he's ready for her, she wants to go. She's ready to die. And that's a thought that both terrifies me and makes me happy. Utterly, completely selfishly, I don't want her to die. I don't want to let go of this person that I love so completely. I want her to be around forever, to give me advice and tell me stories. I want the woman that helped raise me, that made me mac & cheese and mashed potatoes summer after summer because I didn't want to eat anything else. I don't want her to go anywhere, because she's my great-grandma, and she's so, so important to me.

However, then I think rationally. I think about the way she's living, the way she can't do anything. Almost everything she's loved has been taken from her. She can't work puzzles anymore because the movement wears her out. She can't cook because she can't be on her feet. She can't go shopping or go outside or go to church or play with her grandchildren. She doesn't have a life, she has a stationary position in a chair in front of a tv. She is miserable. She is suffocating to death. Every day she gets a little worse. And while I don't want her to go away, I realize that there comes a time when she needs to. Because she doesn't have a life anymore. She's not happy, and as much as I want her, I realize that it's getting to the point when I need to let go.

I'm scared. I don't want to have to come to that. But it's coming, and I'm trying to prepare myself for that. But for now, I want to be there as much as I can. Because I only have so much time left, and I don't want to waste a minute.

Prompt: A Picture Of Someone Who Has The Biggest Impact On You:

I bet there's a part of everyone that expects me to post a picture of Andrew McMahon, and that could totally be expected. I'd say that's true, but no one has a bigger impact on me than this woman right here:

This is the wonder that I get to call my mother. I don't express how much I love her enough. I love you, Mom. I'm so lucky to have you.