dear me

dear thirty-five year old self,

i'm assuming you probably have kids by now.

if its what you thought, four kids has to be a handful.

you wanted to live in europe but now that you have kids i hope you are in the east, maybe boston or even virginia.

i hope you checked off your bucket list or at least some of it.

i hope you back packed europe, and went to that lantern festival in taiwan. 

i hope you've tried those churros at disneyland by now. 

i have to ask, were they worth the stomach ache? 

i hope you are still close to your brothers, they were your best friends growing up. 

i also hope you have land and some animals, you always said thats what you wanted. 

i hope you've gotten everything you've dreamed off, or at least gotten close.

don't forget to be you, and i can't wait to see what the future holds. 

love your much younger self, 

Rose 

i want to

i want to go back.  

i want to go back to that summer night. 

 i want to go back to when we had that old radio in our pantry and josh groban was all that played. 

 i want to go back to laughing in the back seat while making voicemails for the first time.  

i want to go back to when you gave me those M&M's. 

 i want to go back to the time they made fun of me and you stuck up for me.  

i want to go back to the time when the header on my blog was supposed to be white.

when those treats weren't on my counter.

when your eyes weren't the only thing i looked for.

i want to go back to the time when everything was simple. 

but 

i want to go to the time when i have my own radio in my own house.

i want to go to the time when i get to eat those treats and not worry about stupid calories.

i want to go to the time when i get to listen to ray charles with you. 

i want to go to the time when your eyes will look for mine as well.

i want to go to the time when coming up with a second post becomes easy.

i want to go to the time when i won't care about instagram likes. 

i want to go to the time when everything was simple. 

skydiving

the bones inside my body are the crackling of wood sitting inside a fire, and you lit the match.

my brain makes a hurricane out of my mind and the only rescue team i get it is you. 

my heart went on that ride, the one where it drops, and you are the one that pressed the 'drop now' button. 

my eyes follow you like a lost tourist with a map, in a foreign city.

but I'm fearful that my parachute won't open.

and you'll say you just wanted to go bun-jee jumping instead.

mom always said " the opposite of faith is fear"

so i'm fearful you'll find my blog and like hers better

i'm fearful you won't be the one reading that letter i wrote a few weeks ago

i'm fearful i won't grow up to be like cinderella and i won't "have courage and be kind" 

i'm fearful of talking to you because your down looking eyes are the reason i'm so quite 

i'm fearful you won't help me spend that sixty dollars that can't seem to disappear 

i'm fearful that i'm more of a tourist than a local 

i'm fearful that these fears will only get worse as i grow older 

Georgia On My Mind

i guess life is knowing the difference between alto and soprano, because i still have to ask which is which. 

and life is getting to things fifteen or twenty minutes early because getting there right on time stresses me out.

its also about eating to much on sundays out of boredom and regretting it on monday. 

its the trust that came when he showed me that one playlist, and now Georgia's On My Mind. 

its coming into the school at 6 am and feeling that blast of warm air that makes you feel safe for a second.  

its sitting in your kitchen at 11 writing this post because you haven't been able to come up with something you like.

its going along with what everyone else is doing because you don't know if you should go along with it or go away from it. 

its hanging out with those old friends, wishing for sophomore year and a more talkative self.

its staying home on friday night because your parents seem cooler than the indoor rock climbing place they all went too. 

its the instagram picture you wish you hadn't posted but keep because if you took it down it would hurt their feelings.

its watching your grandma cry because she is scared of death... life is being scared of death, and taking that fall, and texting him first, because what if? 

what if i don't get into that college?

what if he doesn't text back?

 

what if i fail?

what if i look stupid?

what if life takes over and all your what ifs become irrelevant.

but what if they don't?

 

what if they become your reality?

but i guess thats life. 

what does it mean?

what does it mean to be successful? 

does it mean turning in your homework on time? does it mean acing the test the first time you took it?

what does it mean to be successful?

is successful being on the cover of vogue? is successful being a size two and dating the star player?

what does it mean to be successful?

does it mean having a high number of comments & views on your blog? does it mean a successful journal? 

what does it mean to be successful?

is it sitting by the knight? is it being prom king or queen? is it having the most instagram followers?

what does it mean to be successful?

does successful mean being your true self? does it mean having self confidence? does it mean being kind?

what does it mean to be successful?

is it adding three more zeros to your paycheck? is it getting the job millions would kill for?

what does it mean to be successful?

does it mean the best house? does it mean the dream car? does it mean the most expensive clothes?

what does it mean to be successful?

is it getting the starting position on your sports team? is it being in the video in your english class?

what does it mean to be successful?

does it mean being creative? does it mean being original? does it mean being artistic?

what does it mean to be successful?

is it getting a perfect ACT score? is it getting into an ivy league? or is it getting into BYU? 

what does it mean? 

what does it mean to be successful? 

please, someone just tell me what it means. please. 

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