17

17 things i've learned in the past 17 years of life

- its ok to say no

- its also ok to say yes

- even if you don't want to go to that party because you are tired, you still should go it'll be fun, i promise

- school does have a point

- its ok to sluff class to go to lunch, attendance school isn't that bad

- find friends that call you friends back not just an acquaintance that takes you to hang outs with them

- its ok to not get ready or to not wear make up 

- its ok to speak your mind, your opinion matters

- its ok to be alone

- don't get embarrassed by silly little things, no one really cares anyway

- be careful what you wish for, one wish might come true and you will have a huge decision to make

- if you don't play a sport or an instrument, i promise you're ok, people really don't care if you do or if you don't

- take your time growing up. one day you will be months from graduation wishing you would've enjoyed more of high school

- its ok to kiss whoever you want 

- its normal to have a breakdown about school, mostly life, at least once or twice a semester

- say hi to everyone you know, they'll feel loved for it

- be you. not her, or him, or they, be you

5 ,6 ,7 ,8 ,9 ,10 ,11 & 12

fifth & sixth grade love was signing up for hotmail, not gmail, and sending emails and IMs back and forth of " i like, like, like like you".  And teasing them on the play ground, and having rosy cheeks if they say hi to you. oh, you can't forget the iconic email of "I like you. Do you like me??????"

seventh grade love was the "will you go out with me?" love.  it was the text saying "want to hold hands?" and replying back with "uh, sure?" its the sweaty palms and the embarrassment of having all your friends watch and not saying a word to each other after. it's the Facebook "I LOVVVEEE YOUUU!!!" and the M&M's you gave me and the bracelets i still have.

eighth grade love i don't even know- it is whatever you think it is.

ninth grade love was the hopeless romantic idea of a boyfriend. the sweaty basketball games and hugs. it was the "i like you too :)" and the "can i come over?".  it was the nervous butterflies in your stomach, trying to figure out how to cuddle with someone for the first time, and realizing that it was fun.  its the first kiss and the second kiss and the to many kisses to keep track.  it was realizing you liked his best friend more than you like him.

tenth grade love was seeing eighth grade love at the football game and hanging out for a week. then realizing he just wants to kiss. so you leave.

eleventh grade love was watching him, hoping he would notice you.  it was finally gaining the courage to ask someone on a date. (i always thought that was the guys job.) it was the sweaty palms of hoping you would make good conversation.  it was singing to the top of your lungs to Michael Jackson, and then hugging for the last time in two years. 

twelfth grade love, twelfth grade love is noticing him.  its history and music and traveling conversation and eye contact the keeps me sane through out the week. it's asking someone you don't know to a dance and finding out more about yourself than you thought you would. its comparing him to him on the way home from breakfast. (why did i notice you now?) its springsteen and mumford and sons and not climbing that tree just to stand next to him. 

paris love is the love that lasts forever. its the love that takes forever to figure out and people for forever have been trying to figure it out. i think the paris love is the love that keeps you up until four am pondering life and wishing he was right there with you. paris love is the feeling you get as you ride that elevator to the top of the eiffel tower; scary, magical, thrilling and exciting. paris love is landing in the city of love and wanting to explore and find all the secret streets that no tourist knows about.  paris love is the love that people dream about. 

"you can choose to surrender to love or not, but in the end love strikes like lightning." - the paper airplane i picked up in class

to you, yes you

dear you, 

yes you, you know who you are, you where the first person i told my blog name to. 

i wanted to thank you. thank you for showing me what the word passionate means. thank you for showing me that questions can go farther than "what is the color of your tooth brush?".  thank you for showing me that people care. thank you for just stopping by to say hi and see me, even if it was for five minutes.  thank you for being willing to tell me all about your thursday.  thank you for sharing that saturday with me.  thank you for that forehead kiss, that made me dizzy when walking out to my car. thank you for teaching me that, thats what love is all about.  It was beautiful.

beautiful

Boys

Eat

Apples

Under

Trees
                      
In

Fall

Under

Leaves

i have

i know I'm human because, i have a pulse; with lively red blood that flows through my body, especially under my cheeks when i do something stupid. i have a beating heart, that pounds like a hammer pounding a nail into wood. i have a stomach that eats more butterfly's than it can handle at times. i have hands that shake like a martini ready to be shaken and poured. i have a brain that spins like those rides at carnivals that make you throw up. 

so, 

i'm not a robot. 

august

what do you think of when you think of august?

i think of him in his basketball shorts, with his typical baseball hat, was it the yankees? i think of the conversation we had. i think of europe, specifically france. most importantly i think of you. because isn't it "funny how a melody sounds like a memory"?

what do i think of?

what do you think of? 

what does he think of? 

cause i think of you.

i think of you. 

you.