First Choice

Less than 3 hours until I'm officially 24 years old.

The summation of the last however many years?
My lessons learned. My lessons ignored. My lessons still to come.
The difference between what I want, deserve and need.

Who I am.
Who am I?

I remember seeing work as this absolute goal. Running. Leaping. Hurdling through loops and obstacles with one mission that would eventually help the bigger picture.

Store manager.
Financial aid.
BA with a specialty in Marketing and Sales.
SOC.
Job reference with years of experience.
Career.

It all made so much sense for such a long time.
And here I am Store Manager of North Riverside Mall.
Had a great day yesterday.
Made a bad choice today. Left early without checking for loopholes.
Thought I was handed some leeway from the GameStop Gods.
Wrong Answer.
I feel bad.

But alright - let's go with the, "Everyone Makes Mistakes" angle.
I am still pretty alone on the eve of my birthday.
Maybe by choice.
Preference.
Luck.

All I know is that I did figure out one thing.
My birthday resolution.

This year, I want to be someone's first choice.

Destination Nowhere

Every minute only reminds me of my significant unimportantance. Who doesn't want to feel like someone will miss them back home? Someone who cares that their presence will be missing. Someone who aches a little while their away.

Maybe he was right.
Misery creates an eagerness to leave.
I just wanted to feel loved.
Missed.

Like I actually affect a life.
A person.
Touch a soul.

But I am realizing more and more that I am investing all of my genuine hopes into people who don't have the decency to recognize or appreciate me.

So I'm leaving on a jet plane and I hope the person who leaves never comes home. And the person I am meant to be, does.

Skipping Stones

More than occasionally I wish I wasn’t so easily replaced. Or so easily used as a replacement.

Just not so easily brushed aside in the search for something better. I understand, and I know I don’t have the kind of permanence, the kind of presence that a lot of people do, the kind of people whom others not only need, but want. People like that, they’re rocks.

I’m more of a pebble than a rock - really often overlooked, but always picked up when someone needs a skipping stone to carry their explosive anger, their overwhelming fear, their relentless worries, as far away as possible. To carry and to turn their problems into ripples. So I hear many stories - I know a lot of secrets, I keep dreams that people are afraid to tell others with me.

I wonder if pebbles are ever lonely. If they are solid all the way through, or just hard on the outside and hollow in the middle. Maybe they get tired, too, worn on the surfaces so they’re smooth to handle but heavy with the weight of wishes.

I wish I was a rock. Someone’s rock. To be both wanted and needed not because it’s convenient to have me there, but because it would be irreversibly, immensely, empty, without me.

Mobile Diaries: Episode One

I tend to be one of those people who feels like the world drops signs for us mere mortals to interpret.

My favorite form of this game is thinking of you and turning on Pandora hoping something empowering will play.

This morning I got, Always Be My Baby, followed by, God Blessed the Broken Road, immediately followed by All My Life and now Wait For You plagues my ears.

I miss you.
The old you I suppose.

But my days are slowly getting better.
And to be honest, as grateful as I am for my better days, they also make a part of me sad.

Learning to live without you.
Living with ghost and memory you.
Who knew this was the plan?
Would you do it over if you knew?

I would.

Jar of Hearts

2011. Would you believe me had I told you this is who you'd be? Your thoughts. Your actions. Pride. Shame. The entirety of this moment. You gave completely. You tried to pave a broken road. You tried to take a road less traveled. You ended up here. Blogging at 11:04PM. Mind in a state of tranquil recreation yet you know your body is melting to its need of rest. Countless hours of working. Supporting with an invisible hand. Being rejected. One frog. One beast. No princes. All the same. Pieces to the puzzle of your heart unchanged. Evolving. But the same. New attempted editions with questioned motives. The question of being a product of my experiences or a product of my own good will. The journey to discovering how to accomplish the latter. The grander scale of how blood outweighs water. All a blunder of things that only outline what 2010 was. There are things that do not waiver. You learn your own architecture as you grow more familiar with yourself. Which beams support your structure and frame and which ideas create windows of light and opportunity. You learn your secret hideaways and your most comfortable memories. And as time goes, you turn your house into a home.