Here's to Us

I have to let you go in order to get you back. I'm not saying that the way you think, either. I'm saying it because I've already done it. Had you not talked to me and made me believe things would be different, we would be great friends right now. I would be the friend you wanted me to be, the friend I can be. I know this. I'm sure of it. So, in order for you and I to be friends, I have to let you go in order to get you back.

I need to get back to being me. I need to get back to my 'Life goes on' attitude. I need to be myself again. I can be myself again...I'm confident. So,Cheers. Here's to finding myself again, writing it all out, and being the successful person I want to be.

Here's to the start of a beautiful friendship. Here's to us.

missing something...

How can I miss him when he's just in the next room? It's making me go insane. I need to go back to the pool and swim, swim my little heart out. I just wish I didn't get so tired after ten laps. Or two, even. I did ten yesterday, though. I feel fine. :-D

I have people who care about me. Countless people. People that span over many many different states. So why am I worried about one person? Why do I care that much? Yes he's my best friend. But he hurt me. I can't trust him. I'm not in love with him. So why is it affecting me this much? It shouldn't be. Not at all.

Just for the record--I deserve much, much better.


Video Games

I've realized that video games relieve stress. Just like running, or yoga. My best friend came over the other night and wanted to teach me the 'way of the gamer'. I suck at it, don't get me wrong. Yet, for some reason I am determined to kick his ass at some point so I keep playing. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 has me addicted. My friend Jessica and I joked when it came out that it stole boyfriends everywhere. Now? I gave up a night going out with the girls for a video game and a boy.

Something is wrong here. Boys are dirty! They don't shower every day, leave dirty dishes out, and their clothes smell and they're all over the room. Ew. I must admit, though, I have way less stress on my plate than I did a couple days ago. Especially when I kill him in the game...it makes me feel happy. Not only because 1.) he's kicking my ass mercilessly, but because (and here's a secret) I've wanted to hurt him ever since he broke up with me...about a week and a half ago. It's nice.

Speaking of that. I'm still upset. Not upset to where I'm crying and distraught, but upset to where I get bummed. I miss kissing him. I miss knowing he'll always be there. I mean, he will always be there...but sometime another girl is going to come before me. That's going to suck when I'm not his number one. Even though the other night he said I will always be his number one...I know I won't. He's going to care about someone at some point more than me and she'll come before me. I just hope she doesn't lay down the 'rules' like his last fling. Bitch.


Word Vomit.

I can feel it coming. Early in the morning when I wake up. Or, when we're just laying in bed talking. I can feel it preparing to happen.

I can feel my brain thinking about how much fun we've had the past couple of days. The past week. I can feel my smile getting bigger when I think of him. I don't love him anymore. That faded out long ago. But I care about him more than anyone else in the world still. He's still my best friend. So I do love him, just in a different way.

Back to the word vomit, though. I want to ask him out. Roll over one morning and say it. I would get turned down, though...so I don't do it. I'm just so scared that one day, one significant moment, it's going to come out. Word vomit all over the place with hurt to follow.

Things can be different! He's back to being himself again...things are going well for him...I know they can be. I have this feeling that this is right and this is what should be happening before he leaves.

But, saying it would be word vomit and it would induce a fight. So I can't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.


Why do I write?

I have an assignment due tomorrow. It's for my magazine writing class on why I do what I do. Why do I write?

I write because I have to. I write because it's what I do. I write because my mind speaks words in ways that my mouth cannot, and they're transferred to my fingertips and onto a piece of paper. I write because I see what I'm thinking, and once it's on paper it's out of my mind. I write because it transfers my worries from my head so I can move on to something else. I write because one day I hope to become famous. I write because my friends like to read what I put onto paper. I write because it helps me get better grades on papers. I write because I have to. Writing is my own private get away. It lets me explore numerous possibilities with different characters and situations.
I write because if I didn’t, the past three years I would have had no outlet. I would not have known how to express my feelings at not being able to walk for two years, or for being a medical mystery. I write because I know other people are going through it, too. It is a struggle that many people have gone through before me, are going through now, and will go through after me. It is the same now. I write because I can’t let my best friend know how upset I am that he is joining the Air Force. It’s not because I’m not proud of him, or because I disagree with it, but because we have been inseparable for seven years.
I write because it is who I am. The words, the feelings and the emotion that I think, have and feel are all put onto paper and out of my head. I write because now, I don’t have to think about not talking to him, or even seeing him for the majority of six years. I write because I can’t put into words how much he believes he can do this on his own, but I know him well enough to know he can’t. I write, so at some point, he can read it…and realize how much he actually means to me and how strong our friendship actually is.
That is why I write. It’s simple, really. There isn’t a great long meaningful explanation to it. It’s just how I am. I was going to start off saying something about how April O’Nielle from the Ninja Turtles inspired me, but I could never be on camera…so writing was the next best thing. That did inspire me when I was five. I’m not that five year old anymore, though. I’m 21 real life has hit, and I write to get through it.



I had no idea how much my legs could hurt after not walking to class for a month. It should be no big deal...except, my knee makes it a big deal. I haven't taken a shot in three weeks. Is that bad? I want to go into remission SO bad...can that happen if I keep taking my shots every 15 days? How will I ever know if I actually do go into remission?

I don't want to have to take a shot every 15 days in order to walk. I will, but now I'm to the point where I can dance again. I can do my mile and a half every day, I can play tennis (I actually enrolled in a Tennis I class this semester!). Enbrel has helped a ton, but now I'm starting to think I can do without it. Mistake? My mom thinks so. My best friend, as well.

Do I take this chance and stop, only to later on not have the shot work at all? Or do I take the chance, just walk, run, play like normal and never know the difference? It's tough. I'm not sure what to do.

I do know, though, that this is a dilema. It doesn't help that I don't have any shots here, at my house. They're all at my parent's back home in Swartz Creek. If I'm going to continue pushing myself, I need that shot.

In other news: my Class schedule this semester is awesome. Good classes and good Profs. I'm outgoing this time, and have already made many friends in my classes.

My WWII history prof, she will be the struggle. I feel the need to salute her every time I enter that room. It's like I just enlisted in the United States Army in 1941 and I'm being shipped overseas. Bring it on, Germany, Japan and Italy. I'm ready to take you on.

My Tennis coach is CUTE. Big bright blue eyes, sandy blond hair, wonderful. Plus, since I played in high school, I know more than most of the class (which is 35 people!) and he asked for volunteers to be TA's. That's me! Kristen Ammerman, Tennis TA. All I want to do is perfect my serve. My volley's, backhands and forehands are awesome. I'm so excited to FINALLY be able to serve the ball like Maria Sharapova and kick my best friends butt.

Magazine Writing, Journ 332, will be my favorite journalism course thus far. I can just tell. Rodney instilled that I write because I'm better than the other people out there. I write because I have experiences to share, and I write because it's what I need to do.

I just know that this is my semester. I'm going to be found this semester, and I'm going to work for it. I'm sick of just settling. Let's do this.

Determined. Day 1.

I am a writer. I am a good writer. I know this. It's time to get it out to the rest of the world. My Blog, although I do love it dearly, isn't just working anymore. I write because I have to write. My Journ Prof for this semester has made me realize this. With just one class, he made me realize that I have so much potential that I am not using.

So this is day one. The day that I start writing things that matter, whether it be about my RA, college life, a struggling 20 something, etc. It's time I put all of my talent to use and start submitting articles to publishers. I can't wait on the Flint Journal to hire me as an intern this summer. I need to put it into effect now.

I am determined.
I am talented.
I am ready.
My articles can make a difference to someone, and will.
So, day one.


Who am I going to play tennis with when you leave?
Who am I going to talk to?
Who am I going to just randomly see movies every night of the week with?

Well, it doesn't matter that much. I'm following you, we talked about that. I'll have my base of friends again down south, where the other 'me' is. The stronger, 'I don't care' me. Wish I had her back.

She still exists. I found her yesterday while playing Tennis, while talking to you in the car. I found her written on my foot.

She doesn't have to go away. I don't have to go away. You just don't realize that. I really wish you would.

I've already said goodbye to three people to the military, and you're the one that's going to hurt me the most. It doesn't help that you want one of the most dangerous jobs out there.

This isn't the way things are supposed to be, and no my biggest secret and fear is out for everyone to see. Things don't have to change between us. They'll stay exactly as they were yesterday. This time you changed, not me, you just fail to see that. You're going to need me more than you ever did before.



I get strength from the oddest things. Randomly, Spontaneously, I got this tattoo two days ago. I was upset, mad, and feeling weak. I needed something to jolt me back to reality to make me remember all that I have been through, and all that I will go through.

I've wanted this tattoo for a while, just didn't have the guts to get it. I made my facebook status 'who wants to go with me to get a needle stuck in myself...again?' I just laughed a bit, thinking about how I wouldn't actually do it. Then, while I was in the shower, I thought, 'why not?' Why not go and get a tattoo? Of this exact phrase that has gotten me through the hardest years of my life?

With a nerve I never thought I would have, I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care that my parent's would give me hell, I didn't care that my best friend didn't like the placement. It's my body, my life. So I went to go get an estimate. It was cheaper than I expected. I hopped in the chair right then. Eric drew the design at Evolution in Swartz Creek, and within twenty minutes I had new art on my foot. I love it. To say the least.

Pain has a different definition to me, now. It has for a while. My foot hurt, I won't lie to you. Even though I was white knuckled throughout the whole thing and grimacing almost every time the needle went in me, I realized that if I just control my breathing (like I did with a 16 gauge in my kneecap), it's not bad. I even got into a fight with my brothers, and because I controlled my breathing, I was able to handle more than I could before. I truly am stronger.

Life goes on. Hundreds of people have been through this before me, thousands are going through this now, and a million will go through it after me. I am not the only one. Life goes on.

I got a new bed, and a new frame. I'm starting over again, completely this time.
It's time I grew up. New semester, new bed, new attitude. I got this.



I feel stupid. I've been through this before, I've been through almost everything before.
Breakups, Hospitals, heartbreak, losing my friends, losing family. I've gotten through it and now I'm stronger than I ever have been before.

If I've been through it all before, why is this time not any easier? Scratch that, it is, but now I'm just filled with anger. Not understanding, not sadness. Anger. I'm angry that I let him do this to me again. I'm angry that I'm going to lose my best friend unless he changes, because as much as he says it's me who has changed, it isn't. I'm angry that I can't sleep, I'm angry that I have to force myself to eat because I'm not hungry. I'm angry that he's weak. I'm angry that he thinks we can still be friends. I'm angry that one day, he's going to realize what a mistake he's made, and I won't be there.

I'm angry that there's a giant hole in my stomach that I can't seem to fill. I'm angry that I'm crying. I'm angry that he thinks we can go back to the way we were. I'm angry that I'm alone in this house at seven in the morning with no one to help me. I'm not lost, but I'm confused. I'm not exactly sure what the next step is, but I know I'll find it.

I'm so sick of this happening. I just want to be happy. I thought I was. Apparently I was completely wrong.