Archive for the ‘my brother’ Tag
Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile. ~Mother Teresa
My brother called me last night which was unexpected but completely welcomed. I miss him. In the middle of our brother-sister bonding/soul-searching conversation, he said something to me that will ring in my ears for (probably) the rest of my life: “You know yourself better than anyone else.” He’s right, and although I try to fight it- doubting myself and who I really am- I know that my heart is bigger than this city. Much bigger.
I had a rough adjustment when I first moved here 2 years ago, which is a story that my close friends and family know quite well. Since then I’ve explained that Chicago has made me colder, even bitchier, but I never go further to say that I hate that it’s done this to me. Sure this city has impacted me in many positive ways- including making me stronger and more independent than I could have possibly imagined- which is something I’ll always appreciate. But I have a difficult time accepting my colder persona because, quite simply, it’s not ‘me’.
I get so exhausted trying to combat the ignorance, tune out the negativity, and convince myself that there are still good people out there. I know there are. I am friends with them; I volunteer with them; and sometimes I chat with them at Starbucks or while waiting for the bus. But for the most part I feel like I’m fighting a battle every day- from the moment I walk out my apartment door to the second I closed that same door behind me in the evening. I refuse to surrender. I just won’t. But tell me, why is it so hard to find kind, giving people in this city, in this world?
Kindness. It’s such a simple, beautiful, and E.A.S.Y. concept, so please explain to me why is it so hard to be kind? It takes so much more energy to be mean, so not just make it easier for yourself and the whole world- including yours- will be a better place.
I saw this song performed on GLEE this week and in case you haven’t, I share it with you now:
I’ve been listening to this song and thinking about the concept for the past few days, and now it’s time to indulge you with my thoughts. Before I share you off, let me say that I’m not being uber-religious with you here. Instead I’m preaching the message of kindness- as it should be practiced.
What if God was one of us? What would you ask if you had just one question? Most people would probably ask the typical questions that fill our minds every day: When will I meet my soulmate? Is the guy/girl I’m date “The One”? When will I be rich/famous/successful? Of course we want to know the answers to those questions, and I certainly do too! But with one question permitted, would you really ask that? How would knowing the answer to that question really impact you? How would it impact others? Wouldn’t you want to ask a question whose answers helps more than just yourself?
I know one person cannot physically change the world alone; however one person can impact another, who impacts another… so that the domino effect empowers us all and evidently changes the world. It can happen. YOU can be the domino that begins it all. Why not? Perform (at least) one kind act today and you are doing your part to create the necessary change that this world needs.
I know Ellen DeGeneres agrees with me. This week Ellen shared the launch of The Trevor Project, which is a nonprofit endeavor established to promote acceptance of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning (LGBTQ) youth, and to aid in suicide prevention among that group. However, as Ellen & Anderson Cooper addressed on the air, all bullying needs to stop! Whether you’re the victim, the bully, an innocent bystander, and/know someone being bullied or doing the bullying, YOU need to help STOP IT NOW.
Whether you were/are bullied or not, I’m sure you know at least one person who was once bullied. I, myself, was bullied by those lovely high school Mean Girls. Who wasn’t? Unless you were one of them. But what haunts me the most is how much bullying I witnessed, especially in high school. I hated it then and I still hate that it goes on now. I hate that I didn’t step in enough to stop it, and that no one else did either. I find myself wondering if those bullies changed, with hope that they changed their adolescent ways. Was it just the unflattering high school phase curse? Did they clean up their act and change their ways for the better?
And what about those that were/are bullied…do they ever recover?
I know I’m a little all-over-the-place with this post, so I’ll go back to commenting on what my brother said to me last night. Yes, I know myself better than anyone else. I’m not a saint. I’m not perfect. But I am kind and like to do nice things for people. From small everyday gestures to big celebratory surprises, that’s who I am. That’s who I’ll always be.
My dear friend, Kristin, wrote in an email yesterday that “maybe you do too much for other people. I know how it makes you feel good and everything but you know the old thinking about you can’t really help someone if you’re not taking care of yourself.” She has a very valid point and this is something that I have, in fact, struggled with in the past. I know that I cannot fix every problem in the world nor change every person, but this really is who I am.
You know sometimes, usually on the weekends, I choose not to go out. Not even to the store which is only a block away. My reason, which I’ve never fully admitted to, is that I want to avoid all the negativity; the rudeness; the complaining. Everywhere I go I see it, I hear it. It brings me down. It can turn my best day in the worst day with one hurtful act on the street, on the train, on the bus, in the store. But then again, maybe I have it wrong here because I’m also prevented myself from making a change. My doing a kind gesture or a good deed and inspiring someone else to do the same. Maybe I can be that first domino and begin the change that the world needs. Maybe..
It is not the magnitude of our actions but the amount of love that is put into them that matters. ~Mother Teresa
Song of the Moment: One of Us performed on GLEE
I woke up this morning and apparently it’s August. Instead of wondering how that is possible, I have to admit that I’m just glad that July is over. This past month was a rough one for me with many bad days and few good ones. As the saying goes, you have to put up the rain in order to enjoy the rainbow…so August, you better be bringing me a lot of sunshine and rainbows. I think I’ve earned it with all of the rain I’ve put up with these past few weeks.
In the past three hours, after a much-needed Yoga session, I have two wonderful, pick-me-up conversations: one with my mom and one with my brother. Tonight made me even more anxious for our family vacation in 2 weeks. Stone Harbor, New Jersey, here we come! Vacation is one of the reasons why I’m anticipating August to be much better than July was for me. A week at the beach with the three people I love more than anything. Three people who I can be as vulnerable as I need to be and they’ll still love me just the same. On that note, while I don’t want to rush through my week at the beach, I get to see the fourth person that I deeply adore, Darlene. I cannot wait to finally meet her!!
In twenty days I’ll be on a flight back to Pittsburgh, but that leaves me with twenty days to get through. Thankfully two of those days will be accompanied by Carrie & Ben here in Chicago (August 7-8), as well as a few of those days spent volunteering. Maybe another day spent with Stef hearing about JAMAICA and others spinning away my anxieties. God, I hope I feel better soon and if not, I trust that the beach will bring me some serenity.
I started a conversation with my mom today about the thoughts running through my mind surrounding my future as a Child Life Specialist. I think the conversation began with me saying, “I don’t want to talk about this now, but I definitely need your guidance during one of our walks at the beach.” See last year my mom and I used to wake up at 7 am every morning and walk through the streets, usually hitting the (only) coffee shop downtown with a treats for the still-asleep boys as well before heading back for breakfast. It was during one of those walks when I decided that Child Life is the career for me. Here I am one year later and still wondering what to do next. While I’m a little more ahead of the game with my 10 prerequisite courses and 2 noteworthy volunteer opportunities underway, I still feel…stuck. Confused. Unsure what to do about, well, everything.
And then there’s the conversation with my brother. I love him so much! I can talk about anything with him and always feel better. Just seeing his name on my caller ID made me feel better. He started off by telling me that he went out this weekend for the first time in a while only to realize that he isn’t missing anything. He even went as far as to say, “How did I do that for so long? I’d rather be home on a Saturday night.” And I could only respond by saying, “Wow, my little brother has grown up.”
This morning a thought entered my mind as I was getting ready to pop my daily anti-anxiety pill: Maybe I’m supposed to feel this way. I’m a single twenty-six year old, why shouldn’t I feel lost? Confused? Unsure of who I am and what I want?
Up and through our high school years, we are experiencing many different forms of growing pains but typically confined to remain the person that people identify us as being. In other words, we are misled to believe that it’s better to fit in than to stand out. We go through those years not knowing who we are, struggling to hide our true self in order to fit in. We hold ourselves back. We hold others back from knowing who we really are. We graduate into the big bad world of college with the opportunity to spread our wings and fly.
Some fly, while others never leave the ground. College opens doors for us to explore new horizons and uncover (new) layers of themselves- if they want to. It lets us learn new interests, new hobbies, new likes, new dislikes. They learn who they are and who they want to be. While others get lost in the never-ending temptations of sex, drugs, and alcohol. In the end some graduate college knowing what’s next, while others feel more lost than when did their first beer bong. I, myself, fell somewhere in the middle as I gave in to some of the temptations to find myself lost with a diploma. To be honest, I don’t know too many people who don’t graduate a little lost. However, I went to OU and while some say it’s “Harvard on the Hocking”, we all know that it’s party school reputation separates the two just a bit.
Even with three cities and three post-college jobs under my belt, I’m still pretty lost. Less than I was four years ago, thank goodness. But as much as I open up about my frustrations and anxieties, I’ll tell you one thing: I’ll never give up. I wish there were easy answers to the questions running around in my head. I know that I’ll get there, I’m just not sure when nor how. But I promise you, and I promise myself that I will.
I’ve this song in my head all day, hearing it by a female singer (for some reason). Have a Little Faith in Me (by Jewel) I need to have more faith in the people who love and support me. I need to have more faith that everything happens for a reason. And most importantly, I need to have more faith in myself. Afterall I didn’t get this purple heart tattoo for nothing.
Happy Birthday, Nick!!
What can I say about my brother? I love that boy so much!! He’s twenty-five today and I have visions of the past twenty-fives years running through my mind. Okay, maybe not all twenty-fives years since pictures & parents’ stories are the only thing that provides me with any rememberance of our first years together.
Four years ago I took my brother out for his first legal drink and unfortunately now his birthday celebration is limited to a text message, Facebook posting, and raincheck for a future celebration at the beach in a few weeks. (Worth the wait for sure.)
To keep this post short, let me finish by saying to the birthday boy:
I love you!
I miss you!
And I will do everything I can to make sure you’re happy!
Yes, that’s me. My little brother, Nick, and me at the beach when we were 2 years old and 4 years old, respectively. We’re pretty stinkin’ cute, if I can say so myself. I love him so much! He was actually such a terror at that age, if you couldn’t grasp that from the photo. And apparently I was too. Actually, friends of my parents that live here in Chicago met us for dinner last year and they openly expressed their pleasant surprise of “what a sweetheart (I am now)”. Moving on…
This afternoon my colleague/friend, Selena, caught me off guard with an unexpected question: If you could change one thing about your childhood what would it be?
Silence. Thinking. More Thinking. Walls coming down.
My response: We never said “I love you” in my family. We never expressed our love. It wasn’t until I was older and realized how many of my friends’ family still say “I love you” consistently. (More thinking.) I wish my family practiced more open communication. My parents never knew that they could be my friend as well as my parent. I wish I knew that I could go to them about anything. I still don’t talk to them about everything, even though I want to. I wish that I knew, when I was younger, that it was okay to show weakness; to be vulnerable; and to lean on others when I’m not strong.
My parents are wonderful! No matter what ‘issues’ I have, I do not blame them. I grew up in a very stable household. And there was love. I don’t mean to give the wrong impression at all, but in answering Selena’s question that is certainly what I would have changed. More love…there’s nothing wrong with that, right?
When I was a young girl I would dream about having a boyfriend. Oddly enough, I never daydreamed about having a fiance nor a husband, just a boyfriend. I had a romanticized view of love, that love conquers all you need is love. Blame it on my parents’ success or those brainwashing romantic comedies? Whatever the reason, it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that I have issues. Somewhere along the road of life they formed, and one day- hopefully sooner than later- I hope that I worked through all of them.
After my declaration Selena coincidentally asked me if I’d ever been in love before. (Yes.) “Did you think you’d end up marrying him?” (Yes. Maybe. Probably.) “How long were you together?” There’s no need to get into all of the explanations I tried to come up with (aka excuses), but in essence I said, “I made mistakes. I have regrets. I still believe that he’s ‘the one’ for me.”
AHHH! It’s so hard to explain how I feel about this…about him. GRRRrrrrrrr.
I also shared that I read something the other day in The Carrie Diaries that definitely sounded like a character description of yours truly: She has plenty of guy friends, but she’s always been too practical to get romantically involved.
Is that what’s wrong with me? Am I too practical? In defending myself to Selena, (why did I feel the need?), I blatantly said, “Or maybe I’m just too picky?” I also gave my genuine reason: “I think I’m a victim of the first love virus and always comparing the other guys to him.”
So I’m not quite sure how to end this post. You know my brother and I bonded/joked that our parents’ successful marriage has impacted us both perhaps in the opposite way as it should have. Neither of us have been successful with relationships, and actually neither of us really embark on any.
Ironically I am A.MAY.ZING. at being there for other people and I am HORRIBLE at letting others be there for me. Maybe I am, in a way, scarred by my non-traumatic, stable family life…riddle me that, Batman. ♥
Oh yeah! The title of the post is from a line by Dr. Arizona Robbins on Grey’s Anatomy.
As mentioned in a previous post, I am going to divulge the details from my past, well since graduating high school, up until this point. This June marks my 4th anniversary as an Ohio U alum, and therefore I feel the need to look back on all of my Junes, beginning with June 2002- when I graduated from my alma mater, Hampton High School.
June 2006. What a month it was. At that time I really didn’t think I’d live to see another June. But four years later, I can look back and see how far I’ve come.
Let’s start with Graduation Day. Much to my dismay, and hope that a whole Disney miracle occurring-preferably me waking up to find myself on the first day of college all over again instead of the last.
Here are some of my fellow Class of 2006 alumni friends. The imfamous Jay and Mike, whom I have the pleasure of venturing back to Athens with this weekend for our friends’ wedding. (They’re lovely and single, ladies. However, they do come in a package deal. Just kidding. Sorta.) And the second photo is of my dear friend and former Facebook ‘it’s complicated’ boyfriend, Phill. Now if this photo doesn’t say, “I graduated from OU!” then I’m not sure any will.
There were two graduation ceremonies that Saturday. A few of my friends, including Joe, Phill, and Rebecca, graduated in the morning and were fortunate to have the better speaker for theirs. The rest of us all gathered in our River Park apartments getting ready for our parents’ arrivals. I was so numb that day. I remember Jay came in and said something to me about being ‘naturally pretty and not needing any makeup and I didn’t even blush. (PS. He tells lies because I definitely need it!) Shortly after the arrival of all of our parents, we took a few photos and then headed to the Convo Center. I remember walking through South Green with Ashley and Jenny Massie in our caps and gowns, the boys tagging along behind us. And I remember seeing a Black Blazer on my way there and thinking of him; wondering if that was in fact him on his way out of town- since he wasn’t graduating until the following year. Heart breaks even more. End scene.
I’m sure some people will say that their college graduation was one of the most memorable moments of their life, and I’m sure my graduation was memorable for my parents. However, I cannot say the same for me. All I remember about the ceremony is sitting next to Mike, near Kat and her boyfriend-at-the-time, Asher, and that Sleepy Sean sitting a few rows behind us (with Alex) determined to be the last graduate to receive their diploma. Unfortunately his plan failed, but A for effort. I kinda-sorta remember walking up on stage…no, I really don’t. I do vaguely remember that my cell phone just happened to vibrate almost immediately after I walked off stage, and it was Joe calling me (back). Joe Zummo. You know, that boy may not be as good of a friend to me as Brandon, but he’s always there for me in a different sort of way. Like so many of my other friends, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He deserves an A.MAY.ZING. just for being, well, Joe. If you knew him then you’d understand why I say that.
I do have a special memory from that day that I hold near and dear to my heart, but unfortunately no photos. My wonderful father brought a bottle of champagne to celebrate this momentous occasion, and he found nothing wrong wtih crackin’ the bottle open in the parking lot. The Medica Family, all four of us since my brother graciously joined in the festivities, were drinking champagne in the parking lot of the football stadium. I actually think he may have even brought wine/champagne glasses, but I could be wrong and we were drinking from plastic cups instead. OU, Oh Yeah indeed!
After lunch with my parents, I headed up to Red Brick to meet with Phill, Rebecca, and our friend, Eric. They were just the group that I needed to see to begin the actual celebration that is college graduation. It’s when the bitter turned to bittersweet. After a few drinks, or maybe even one- we are lushes- we headed down to River Park to join the rest of the graduates in the pre-game festivities. But my dear love, Phill, just so happen to meet a friend that he couldn’t no bring home. The balloon just so happened to be in the trash…yes, the trash. And yes, there’s no way he was sober. To this very day, whenever I see this balloon in stores or in garbage cans, I think of Phill.
We had a great time that night, but to be honest I really don’t remember many of the details. Ashley’s brother, Scottie, fell in love with me…in a fun-joking-drunk way…and I believe we broke up a few times that night as well. He also called me “girlfriend” most of the night, so guessing he didn’t remember my name either. Typically gf-bf relationship.
The highlight of my night was seeing Crazy Drew (best friend to Libby’s boyfriend, Kyle) still in his cap and gown at 2:15 am outside of Goodfella’s chowing down on a slice of pizza. I was then serenaded by the (homeless?) guitar player outside of the Burrito Buggy as he played me Wild Horses. Athens, I miss you!
I stayed in Athens for a week or two after graduation, and some of my friends did the same. As each day went by, so did another goodbye. Although they weren’t easy, I never once cried.
Saying goodbye to Phill was far from easy, especially because I didn’t know when I’d see him next. He was moving to NYC almost immediately upon graduation, and while I’d always dreamed of living there I realized that my dream was just a dream. While we’d been friends since the beginning of my first year at OU, I really fell in love with Phill for the beautiful friend he is during senior year. He was the best boyfriend I’d ever had, and raises the bar extremely too high for any future contenders. I love you, Phill.
In my remaining days in Athens, I went on a lot of walks with friends and alone. That’s one of my all-time favorite things to do in Athens, and Brandon and I use to walk around that town whenever we had the chance. Brandon. He was the final goodbye I had to make before my dad drove me home on that fateful day. I’ll spare the details, but saying goodbye to him broke my streak of not crying as I teared-up at the thought of our goodbye time actually being upon us. As he said the other day to me on the phone, “we were inseparable” at OU. I love you, B, and I couldn’t have imagined OU nor my entire life without you. Afterall, I didn’t make a tee-shirt for anyone else.
My dad and me left shortly after, but before getting on the highway I asked him if he would drop me off over at my old stomping grounds, Dougan- my dorm, my first ‘home’ at OU. I sat on the infamous catwalk for awhile with thoughts and memories running through my head. Part of me was numb, and part of me was under the worst pain imaginable. I called Libby and talked to her for a few minutes, but hung up with the intention to place another call. But I didn’t. Instead I said goodbye to Dougan, and to OU.
As soon as we got on Rt. 33, I balled my eyes out. My poor dad didn’t know what to do, but he did the best thing he possibly could and just allow me to cry. It wasn’t all tears of sadness. I know that now. It was tears of memories; of anxiety; of lost hopes and dreams; of lost love; and mostly, tears of feeling lost and being afraid of the unknown.
That was four years ago, and here I am headed back to that same little college town this weekend. Four years. Wow. At that time, if you would have told me that I would be who I am today (more confident and comfortable in her skin) and where I’m at (living in Chicago), I would have called you craaaaaazzzzy.
I still miss Athens, and mostly I miss my friends and the times I spent with them in Athens. The memories will always be there. I know that. But there are so many days that I wish I could call up Brandon and go for a walk around town. And when Libby posts on Facebook that she’s having a bad day, I just want to be able to walk up to her house on Mound Street with sour Skittles. And then there’s Phill. While I hated how much time he spent at Alden Library, I secretly loved knowing that he’d be there so I could surprise him with Magic Cookie squares and tempt him to take a quick break.
So many memories, and so many good friends. I know that Athens will always feel like home, but as I just emailed Adriana, I also know that it will never be the same without all of my friends there. As an alumni once told me during Homecoming Weekend of my senior year, “Athens isn’t about the place, it’s about the people.”
I arrived in Athens with very few life experience and so much to learn. Each and every person I met, each experience I had, it’s all within me now and is responsible for the person that I am today. College was the best time of my life. Sure I had bumps and bruises, not to mention a broken heart, but I cannot even begin to put into words how special those three years were to me. My OU friends will always hold a special place in my heart. We met as acquaintances, soon became friends, and left as family. Love you all.
Or maybe I’ve been thinking about how to say goodbye to you all week. Maybe I’ve been thinking about how to make those words come out of my mouth every second of the day since I made the decision to leave. Maybe saying goodbye to you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
You may return here once you have fully come to understand that you are always here. (Eat. Pray. Love. )
If you could have a romantic affair with any fictional character, who would you choose? This was a discussion question posted on the 20something blogger website this past week and after scanning through the responses I decided to post my own character of desire: Noah Calhoun from The Notebook because I love how he never gave up on Allie.
Someone called me out on my response saying, “Didn’t he give up on her after a year?” But before I even saw the reply, another blogger jumped to my defense in explaining the love story of Noah and Allie- including the 7 years that passed without any contact between the two and the hope that still remained in both.
Here I am, sitting in another the Memphis hotel after finding out that my flight back to Chicago was canceled and I couldn’t get on a flight until 6 am tomorrow morning. Not my favorite plans for the remainder of this weekend, but what else can I do other than accept this misfortune and make the best of a crappy situation? Trust me on the inside I wanted to scream and maybe even cry, but I actually surprised myself by handling it with grace.
The song Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson played in the terminal coffee shop earlier and these lyrics always strike a chord with me- I want to believe in more than you and me…which makes me think of the Noah and Allie love story…as well as my own. Can you imagine waiting seven years for someone? I can, but that’s not what this post is to be about, or at least not all of it.
Besides the Pen Pal notebook, Alisha and I exchange emails/Facebook messages to keep one another informed of the daily happenings in our respective worlds. Typically it’s nothing earth-shattering, but we’re girls so you can always could on something going on in our minds, if nothing else. We have a lot of similar viewpoints and life experiences, as well as the unfortunate anxiety that began the friendship between us in the first place.
One of our commonalities is our ‘issues’ with guys and relationship. And Alisha, I hope I don’t offend you by using the word ‘issues’ because I’m mainly using this world to address my own. Shall I call it commitmentphobia instead? Well, I can speak for myself and say I have commitmentphobia AND issues. I really do. There’s no sugar-coating it here. We’re all friends after all. And honestly, if you’re a loyal reader of my blog then you’ve probably diagnosed me with these characteristics already. (No offense taken.)
The other night my mom shared with me (over the phone, of course, given that she’s in Pittsburgh and I was either in Memphis or Chicago) that my brother made the following comment. Now let me point out that I was not informed of the context to which this remarkable comment was made, but it was indeed made.
“She needs to date more and not think that she has to marry the first guy she goes out with.” (Quote made famous by my brother, Nick, evoking insecurity on my end- aka the “she” spoken of.) Thank you, Nick. But seriously, is that what you think? Is that how I come off? Is that how I really am?
I quickly ended the call with my mom after hearing that. I wasn’t upset with her for telling me this nor my brother for making the comment, but rather I was overwhelmed with all emotions and thought including the inevitable question, What is wrong with me?
I said this before, somewhere, but when I was younger I used to always envision myself as someone’s girlfriend. Now, depending on the age, sometimes that ‘someone’ was Grant Hill (elementary school days) or Justin Timberlake (high school days). But even since college, for the most part at least, my fantasies about being someone’s girlfriend was an actual someone. Do I need to say his name?
But here’s the thing… no one understands that. My mom doesn’t, my brother doesn’t, and most of my friends do not either. Do you think I want to be here, almost seven years later, still questioning why I’m single and more importantly, not with the one that my heart still yearns for? Why I can sit here at this airport, amongst other places, and not one single guy appeals to me? Why I still think, he’s cute/nice/cool but he’s not…
Today is not even my most self-confident day, but I can still say with ease that I would make a fantastic girlfriend. I really would. So when will I get my chance? When will my doubts and issues just disappear and let me be ‘me’ (again)? I make so much progress here and there, but in the end everything is still the same.
While I remain hopeful that one day all of the pieces of my puzzle will come together. Maybe it will look exactly how I picture it looking, the way I want it to…and maybe it won’t. Either way, I just want to feel like the missing pieces are making their way to my table so I can get closer to the final product.
Now don’t think that I’m imagining a fairy tale here, because I’m not. I’m trying my best to be as realistic as I can possibly be, which may be a little warped my all of the romantic comedies I continue to watch and the games my mind seems to play on me. (Anxiety and estrogen are a toxic combination.) Sure I’ve daydreamed my days away since I was a little girl, and there will always be days when I want to fall back asleep and continue the dream I rather than wake up and face the world (of the unknown.) But I think about this quote that Alisha introduced me to:
Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale. (Hans Christian Andersen)
Sometimes life may seem like a fairy tale, a romantic comedy, or perhaps a dramatic horror film- but that’s life. The good, the bad, the ugly, the stressful, etc. Some days you want to shout from the rooftops how A.MAY.ZING. you feel, and other days you want to stay in bed. That even happen in those guilty pleasure romantic comedies, but remember that they typically have the happily ever after ending, and we can too.
During this entire post, I’ve been thinking of the song Fix You by Coldplay. But when I listen to the song and think about the lyrics, I’m not imagining some guys saying this to me…I’m saying it to myself. I want to fix me.