Maybe

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“Betcha he reads, betcha she sews. Maybe she’s made me a closet of clothes! Maybe they’re strict, as straight as a line. Don’t really care, as long as they’re mine.”

-Annie 

 

I’ve had a strange attachment to the musical Annie since before I could remember. It makes sense. Little orphan, longing to belong in a family of her own. In my own way, I related to Annie on a multitude of levels. I felt abandoned by the majority of my family at a very young age, and still to this day, at 18 years old, I find myself feeling like an orphan even now. Spoiler alert, at the end of the movie, Annie gets her happily-ever-after with Daddy Warbucks, sings an epic song, and everything is great.

No matter how many times I watched the movies or sang the songs, I still woke up the next morning with a broken family.

It wasn’t easy by any means, especially growing up loving everything to do with books and movies. Everyone gets their happily-ever-after. Cinderella gets her Prince. Annie gets her family. I was set up for disappointment from the moment I opened my brain to the world of literature. Happily-ever-after happened to everyone. Perhaps I thought if I kept reading, if I kept watching, mine would eventually catch up with me.

Even at 18 years old, I dream about waking up to a happily married mother and father cooking breakfast together, smiling and laughing almost instinctively. I dream that they love my siblings and stroke their hair behind their ears to smooch the peak of their foreheads. And we all sit. And we all smile. And we all are one. I dream that I have a grandmother who didn’t leave me the second she got the chance, and instead is gentle and likes to tell jokes and smile really big, maybe even sometimes an uncle or an aunt pops up into these dreams.

It’s naive, I know. I’m aware of the childish aspects of this dream of mine. But it’s as if I can’t help it.

I don’t write this blog as a means for anyone to feel pity for me or my situation. In fact, I do almost the exact opposite. I want to open your eyes to things you may be oblivious to. Don’t take it for granted. Don’t take your family for granted, whether it be the way your mother looks at your father after he cracks the same joke for the hundredth time that day, or the way your siblings wave to your parents with pride when they spot them in a crowded room. When you complain about the way they nag on you for your grades, just remember some of us don’t have that luxury.

Despite the years gone by, I still have hope in my heart for a family one day, whether it be of my own or to watch someone else I love grow a family I can watch from the sidelines.

Maybe the truth is, we don’t all get happily-ever-after. I’ve come to the realization that if we were all happy in this world, it would be a strange world to live in. I mean, just imagine walking down the street to see everyone with a smile. We would all be the same. We have to have some people out there be unhappy. If we never knew cruelty, we would never know happiness. So in a way, it all balances out. If I have to take one for the team and be unhappy, so be it.

Still, when the dream comes to me every so often, I find peace within myself in the few moments before I completely come to in the morning, because at that point I’m not aware that it is not my reality.  Just imagine having a family filled with so much love and happiness you can hardly stand it. Unfortunately, we have to face what cards we are dealt with. And I wasn’t dealt the hand I long for at times. I can’t cry about it though. And maybe, rather than having my happily-ever-after all the time, I’ll settle for those few moments every now and then when I wake up from those dreams. I’d much rather feel the love and warmth of my dream family than never having it at all.

Besides, like Annie tends to say, the sun will come out tomorrow. 

Sometimes the sun comes out with a family, sometimes it doesn’t.

Either way, it will all be okay. It has to be okay.

 

 

Until next time,

 

Tay

 

Watch Your Mouth

“Loneliness is one hell of a drug” -Kurt Cobain

     I’ve never been the center of attention. In fact, when things get to be about me I tend to freak out a bit. Birthday parties were a stressful time as a child for me. They still are. I would much rather take the day to spend it loving someone else. I love theatre, never wanting to be on stage, but rather enjoying the presence of the techie life. I can’t stand things revolving around me.

     That being said, that doesn’t mean I enjoy being pushed to the side like I’m nothing.

     I feel that because I excuse myself from the spotlight, I am automatically cast into the wings of the world where people are put to seem as if they do not exist. But I do. I do exist.

     I feel and I breathe, and I cry and I bleed just like everyone else. And maybe I’m just a leave-able, use-able person. And maybe I’m just feeling extra sorry for myself tonight.

     People don’t understand what their actions do to others sometimes. When you toss someone to the side, you ruin them. You have ruined a part of them that will never be a whole again, no matter how small that part may seem. 

“You’re annoying.” You say. Or you cancel. Or you aren’t there for them. Or you choose someone else. Or you ignore them. Or you belittle them. Or make fun of them. “That idea is stupid.” Or even worse or them all, you leave.

     Picture them as a glass plate. Every time you do something hurtful to them, you’re causing more damage. It could be as tiny as a chip from an accidental drop, or as large as completely shattering them. Either way, they will never fit together the same again. 

     We are so hurtful without even realizing what we do is damaging. We get so caught up amongst ourselves that we forget about how we make others feel with our actions. Think about that next time you say something to someone, or throw them off as if they don’t matter. To you, it may seem like it is nothing. It may even seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But to them, it could have shattered everything that is left of their ceramic.

     At this point in my life, I have become acquainted with the idea of people not sticking around long enough or staying true to their word. It doesn’t hurt me any more. But to others, this could be completely new. This could be what feels like to the end of the world to them because they just do not understand what is happening.

     It is not them.

     Watch your mouth. Watch your hands.

     I am fragile and weak at times. I bend and I break easily. Sometimes, I don’t say things right. Or, in most cases, say things at all. I am flawed. I let people walk over me a lot more than I probably should. I will never have the balls of Meredith Grey to just come right out and say “Pick me, choose me, love me.” But of course, I’ll always wish you did.
Until next time,
Tay❤

Letting the World Change my Smile


“Smile, though your heart is aching. Smile, even though it’s breaking.” 

I am pissed.

And not in your sassy, perky, know-it-all, typical teenager way.

This is different

I’m so angry I can hardly breathe or move or hell, even write this blog.

I want to understand. No,

I need to understand.

Since when did it become okay to be so hateful to each other? Your friends. Your peers. Your loved ones. These are people. We are people. And yet we sit here and hate so much.

We hate on social media by hiding behind computer screens and the vibrant glow of our cell phones.

We hate in person by laughing and pointing, or ignoring at all costs.

We hate to mask our own self impurities by pointing out what we define as flaws in others. Because as long as there is a problem in someone else, we no longer have to address the issues within ourselves, right?

Since when did it become okay to be so cruel?

I grew up thinking that everyone on earth had the same thought process and love in their hearts as I did. Maybe that was dumb on my part. To be quite honest, I did read Peter Pan a few too many times. I’ve just always thought kindness was an instinctive response. 

And I guess because of that instinct of my own, I automatically assume that everyone else is first to show kindness as well. But they’re not. If anything, it is the last thing they feel the need to do. 

Nobody is kind anymore in this world.

(Disclosure. I know a handful. And I keep them very close to my heart.)

Humans are exhausting. Many do things for the sole purpose of benefiting themselves, or for their egotistical mindset. I never understood the world and how so many people could really do the awful things that they do.

And here I thought for a while, “It’s just petty high school drama.” But it never ends, even when your tassle is on the left side of your head.

What used to be “My best friend is talking bad about me behind my back” turns into even bigger things that take a giant toll on your heart. High school is nothing compared to the real world. In fact, the two places have nothing to do with whether or not people are shitty. They’re shitty no matter where you go.

My heart is rather worn and tired. And I’m not even to my 20’s yet. I shouldn’t have to say things like this, but I genuinely feel as if my heart cannot take anymore cruelty from the people of this world.

“You’re just a teenager, quit whining.” Says the adult, perched with one hand on their hip and their choice of alcohol in the other. “Nothing lasts forever.”

You’re right. I am a teenager. And I’m probably whining a lot right now, so you’re right about that too. But this is very real for me. People are horrid. People are mean. And I’m having a hard time understanding it. When I don’t understand something, it tends to take an even greater toll on me. And for me, who has only been around for 18 years, this is the only “forever” I’ve known. This feels like forever.

For those of you who understand what I feel, or are maybe going through it yourself, I want you to know that I applaud you for still finding the courage to crawl out of bed everyday. The world is a nasty place.

Your friends aren’t friends sometimes. And you may feel lost, and alone, but everyday you smile and show gratitude and kindness to everyone who comes your way.

That is truly the good in the world.

So, why you may be seeing a lot of bad, a lot of evil, a lot of horror and deceit, let this ring true;

No matter how shitty people may be, you can have a glimmer of hope inside of you knowing that somewhere out there, there is someone just like you who feels and hurts beside you. And that as long as there are smiles on faces and a sun in the sky, there is at least some good in the world.

I, at least, have to believe that this won’t last forever. But that doesn’t mean that people don’t suck right now. 

Or maybe it will last forever, and we will just learn how to not be so affected by it.

Whatever works, I guess.

Until next time,

Tay❤

You Are Too Alive (Suicide Prevention)

You roll over in the morning, your eyes aflutter with distant dreams of the previous night. You breathe in your first breath of air into your lungs, readying them for the hours to come. And it is beautiful, whether you know it or not.

If you open your blinds, daylight falls through the slits and cracks and onto your face, warming your skin to the touch.  Beautiful without having to try.

As you go downstairs, your mother greets you with the same, lovely smile she has greeted you for years. Only, it seems to grow lovelier with her age. She wants to know how you slept. She wants to know if you believe that the test in 4th period will be easy, and you tell her of course because you can’t let her down. And she smiles and smiles, and she is beautiful.

At school, your friends greet you with their cynical commentary and obnoxious laughter, but you love every minute of it because without them school days would drag by. You see the way their smiles form in the depths of their cheeks and glide across their lips like it is the most natural way in the world. And they are beautiful, even in the times of gossip and sorrow.

Your favorite class period is spent in the auditorium, rambunctious chatter echoing through the acoustics and you fall more in love with the lights above your head every time you step in place. For one small moment you wish you didn’t have to spend any more time rehearsing the same damn lines over and over, but you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. trade the moment for anything in the world. Your monologue protrudes through the room, with beautiful written all over it.

And the hallways. Cramped and crowded and noisy and smells of puberty. Regardless, the carpet welcomes your steps, and people stop to wave hello to you, even when your hands are filled with binders and papers and note cards and snacks you forgot to put away at the bell. You walk it now with the routine of friends always by your side. And the hallway is beautiful in itself, because it knows all of your secrets. All of the jumping, stressing, running, rushing, sobbing, hollering, skipping, talking, scolding. It sees the parts of you that aren’t always beautiful.

Class never receives a dull moment when you consistently raise your hand. If you know that x equals a number, or that the inventor of electricity was a genius. Even on your worse days, they rely on you for answers that only you can begin. You’re beautiful. Class is beautiful. It is all beautiful.

You come home to a house smelling from top to bottom with scents of dinner. You sit down with your family. Dad who had a rough day. Mom who continues to smile. And your siblings who always crack down their inspiring comedies. And from third person you see everyone laughing and conversing on politics. From the inside you can’t wait to fall asleep, but on the outside it is beautiful.

You make it to your room and stuff yourself in with the thick comforter and thin sheets. They envelope you as if they were made to fit your weary body. And you sigh the sigh of relief and wondering. And as you turn off your lights, your mind, your body, your beauty radiates with excitement for awakening tomorrow morning.

But what if you didn’t?

What if you decided that whatever going through your mind had become enough for you to handle?

You didn’t roll over the next morning, because of the previous night’s endeavors. The fresh air in your lungs never was gifted to you, and the world loses some beauty.

You never stood up to open your blinds. Your skin remains cold, instead of warmed with the brilliance of the sun, and the world loses some beauty.

Your mother was smiling as she usually does. Humming to herself a song of great love. But she never heard your feet touch the wood of the floor this morning. So she goes to check on you. She never gets over what she finds. And her smile never returned, and the world loses some beauty.

At school, your friends wait for you. When you don’t show by the first sound of the bell, they figure that you had car trouble. You’ll be there soon. You’ll be back in time for lunch, for the latest gossip. You’ll be there. But you won’t be. And the world loses some beauty.

Your favorite class in the auditorium is silent, because now, your siblings have been removed from school for the day, and word has spread about the terrible thing you have done. And your director is hiding behind her desk. And the students arent rambunctious. They don’t dance. They don’t sing. They don’t laugh. They cry. They cry a lot.The lights are off, and the stage remains solemn. Other students are coming to this class to find the last piece of you that you left. They’re trying to piece it together.  But they can’t, and the world loses some beauty.

The hallways remain as cramped and crowded as they always are, but they are moving slowly. There are whispers about you from classmates who barely knew you. Is this true? They wouldn’t dare do such a thing. But you did. And your friends don’t walk the normal routine, because it is impossible to be normal anymore without you here. They picture at any moment for you to run around the corner and catch up with them, to skip and holler and converse. But you won’t be joining them. And the world loses some beauty.

Class is dull. Because rather than the smiling person who always sat, there is a desk that reeks of emptiness. Your teacher refuses to teach, because who else would raise their hand? And the world loses some beauty.

At home, there is no dinner. There is no table-talk. There is no smiling Mom. Your dad comes home early, and for the first time ever, he cries. He cries so hard. And the dogs wander about, wondering when you’re going to prance through the door. Your siblings don’t say anymore jokes, because they can’t comprehend that you’re gone. And the world loses some beauty.

Tonight, no one enters your room. They don’t want to remember. They want it locked up forever, your comforter becoming incredibly lonely with every passing day that you don’t return to envelope in. They miss you. And the world loses some beauty.
Live.

Because you are so alive. With the sun radiating onto your skin, or enjoying every moment your life has to offer. You should embrace everything life hands you, despite whether or not it is deemed as worthy of your appreciation. 

Don’t waste. 

Don’t take anything for granted, because one day it could very well be gone.

You were given this book of life to continue reading and writing, editing and loving. Just because a writer comes to a dead end, never does it mean that they must stop. You pave the rest of your path, and start from scratch.

Life is beautiful, if only you open your eyes to notice. 

So stay.

Finish writing the book of your life.

You are too alive to do anything different.
Until next time,

Tay❤

#stopthestigma #suicideawareness

Blogs, Not Vlogs

I royally suck, considering it has been over 2 months without me posting any of this, after I swore that I would.

After my 18th birthday, Michelle and I decided to take a short trip up to Colorado. Mainly to decorate with her parents for , but while we were there we decided to surprise people while we were there.

It didn’t really go as planned.

I explained to everyone that we were going to Colorado, and that I’m going to vlog about it. However, I am extremely camera shy and hated feeling as if I was talking to myself. I ended up being too embarrassed to “vlog.” I did, instead, take many videos that I could compile in one. 

I hope you enjoy me screwing up this “vlogging” and horrible camera angles. At least I tried, right?

Michelle picked me up early that morning, and we drove out to Little Elm, where her parents had been staying for the Thanksgiving holiday. When we got there, we moved over our things, hopped into her father’s truck and were on the road for the 12 hour trek to Woodland Park.

About 2 hours later, we stopped in Collinsville, an incredibly quaint town where some of Michelle’s family lives, to visit with them for a while.

Her family is loud and lovely, and if I could, I would sit in their kitchen drinking coffee with them every second of every day. 

As you can tell, Michelle is much more aquainted with the camera than me.

I’ve been on many a road trip with the Hilson family, and each time Michelle and I have the same assortment of road snacks and accessories. Without them, the 12 hour ride wouldn’t be as tolerable.

Checklist

  • Chex mix (cheesy flavor, or original for me.)
  • Chips, flavor depending on our moods.
  • Drinks, also depending on moods.
  • Blankets for naps.
  • Chargers
  • Books, depending on moods.
  • Dramamine, because both Michelle and I get car sick.
  • Tunes. Disney, alternative, screamo, sad music, rap, anything in between.

After waving goodbye and climbing back into the truck, we jetted off again.

Before leaving Texas, we stop at a steakhouse that was quite sketchy to say the least. But it wasn’t…all…bad!

After that, it was pretty dark, so I didn’t get many videos. We ended up arriving in Colorado super late that night. Michelle’s pets were there to greet us. Let me tell you, when you see a dog for the first time in a really long time, it is probably the best greeting in the world, no matter how tired you possibly are.

Michelle is exhausted if you can’t tell.

The next day, we were sick. Really sick. I felt so horrible, I didn’t take any videos. I barely got up, honestly. 

After a humidifier and some medicine, I woke up the day afterwards with some more pep in my step.

The Hilson family has had a tradition for Christmastime since before they moved to Colorado. They all go as a family and cut down a Christmas tree. I never had the pleasure of tagging along, but this time I did! It was freezing up on Rampart Range. I don’t know how anyone could possibly camp up there, let alone walk two steps. 

It was about 45 minutes of hiking. By hiking, I mean losing Ric and Michelle and debating on whether or not I should pee in a bush. Tresa and I eventually found Michelle, but Ric was still nowhere to be found, so we just kind of stood there and waited for him. 

I was completely turned around in this forest. For the record, I am not an outdoorsy person under any circumstances. My feet were soaked and my nose was running. How do the people of Colorado do this?! 

We found Ric, and most importantly, we found a tree. Now, this tree wasn’t the best tree on earth. It was skimpy, and sort of oddly fluffed. I’m one for taking a liking to things that don’t blend in, which is why I believe I loved this tree.

Michelle insisted that she cut it down by herself.

We traveled down the pass to the Springs, and shopped for decorations at Home Depot. Keep in mind how I said I was nothing short of a horrible cameraman, so excuse the awful movement.

(This video makes me laugh hard at Michelle’s face)

We decorated the tree when we got home, to the point that the tree looked as if it was glittering before our eyes.

At this point, I was pretty sad because our time was running short and I hadn’t seen anyone I was planning on seeing. However, after someone informed me of a choir concert happening that next evening, my hopes were once again high considering everyone participates in choir in Woodland Park. It was as if the universe was looking out for me!

These videos I actually talked to the camera, though I felt insane or something.

This video is literally 2 seconds long because my phone glitched out as I was walking over. But in case you can’t tell, that’s our friend John. It would have been a video of him saying “What are you doing here!?” He was completely thrown off.

(Excuse the shotty camera viewings. What a nice floor Woodland Park High School has.)

It was amazing. Seriously. If you ever want to meet incredible people, just go to Woodland Park.

Afterwards, we thought that people were going to change so we awkwardly stood out in the lobby. Then, we realized they were leaving so I turned into a chicken with its head cut off trying to say goodbye. 

“Hey do you know where John went?”

“Is Noelle back there?”

“If Noelle is back there, will you tell her we are leaving?”

*messages Savanna 10 times to find her.*

*calls Noelle a zillion times.*

“Did you see where Amanda went?”

It was totally a spur of the moment decision, hence why it was difficult to find anyone. In retrospect, we could have just told people we were there instead of trying to surprise them. But come on, that video is the best.

We later found Noelle in the parking lot about to leave, so we did get to say goodbye to her! 

Afterwards, our friend Olivia invited us to come stay with her that night, and she would drive us to the airport in the morning. It was bittersweet going back to Texas, as I missed my bed, but hated being away from people who meant a lot to me. Tresa and Ric are always the hardest goodbyes.

Liv most definitely cried.

We did reach a slight issue as we were getting ready to walk through airport security, though.

I once read that dermal piercing make security beepers go off, so I was definitely on edge. I also realized while waiting in line that my keys have a small thing of pepper spray on them, and wasn’t sure if it was considered a weapon. (Though it was on the list of what not to bring.)

After our flight, we went into our work and ate fried pickles.

Needless to say, we definitely enjoyed our trip.

In conclusion, however, I think I will just stick with my blog and my words, rather than my face and a camera.

Maybe I should also take a photography class?
Until next time,

Tay❤

Music; the Epitome of Being.

When someone is in trouble, I do my best to help them. Well, this is the way I know best. Considering I have readers in Australia, Pakistan, London, Russia, and even Bolimia, I figured if there is anyone out there that can help, my readers definitely can.

I attended Woodland Park High School for a short, six months. However, in that time I made more friends than I had in the 12 years I had been in Texas. These people, lemme tell you.

I was honestly astounded the minute I stepped into the school, because it was as if music just lingered in the atmosphere. Music was what played for the passing period bells. Music was what my teachers played in their classrooms. And musicals was what was stirring up in the air as auditions had begun that week for their Spring production.

Anyone who has experienced school in Texas knows that football is a way of life. No one heard of musicals, especially in my town. We did one musical my freshman year, You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown, and I thought it was great. I was baffled when no one else at my school wanted to do another one!

(Royse City High School’s Production of You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown. Pictures belong to Holly Stone.)

Music was everywhere at Woodland Park High School. Everyone, including the sports players and teachers, supported the upcoming musical, Leap of Faith. It was a completely different atmosphere for me. It seemed as if everyone there came out of the womb dancing and singing and playing an instrument. 

I decided to attend their talent show to see for myself if the talent there was really as big and bad as everyone claimed it to be. Well, I was definitely taken back.

So much talent, I could barely stomach it. I hadn’t seen so much amazement since I saw a Dallas Summer Musical. 

Vivace performed a song I had stuck in my head for about a week afterwards. You can see their cover of Brother by Needtobreathe here.

These people have their music program at stake right now. Why them? They are so lovely, and talented, and most of all beautiful. They are a small town, with huge hearts. Below I will include more videos of these talents, if you are not already convinced.

(Woodland Park High School’s 2016 Madrigal Choir singing Africa by Toto at Cabaret Night.)

(Hannah Hobson, at the time junior, and Noelle Bovee, at the time sophomore, singing NBC’s Smash rendition of Frank Sinatra’s That’s Life at Cabaret Night 2016.)

(Grant Zeller, at the time senior, and Mia Troxell, at the time sophomore, singing Let me Love You by Ne-Yo.)

These are just a handful of videos from the 6 months I was there. Need more convincing? Feel free to hit me up. 

Help these talented people by signing their petition below. They’d really appreciate it, and I know I would. Feel free to share around wherever you may be.

https://www.ipetitions.com/petition/save-our-wphs-music-programs-2

Woodland Park, I hope I could be of some assistance. I love you all with my entire heart.

Until next time,
Tay❤

#warriors

The Green Dragonfly Dress

Attachment problems, you could say I had, as a young girl, and even now. When I loved something, I gave it all I had. That included the outfit I wore for as long as I could remember.

It was white with ruffles on the shoulders, though by the time I outgrew it, I’m sure it was moreso a faded yellow. The bottom half was caressed with thin green stripes, and on the right side of the beltline, there was a dragonfly.

I loved this dress, as I recall I did everything in it. If it was intended to be a dress you wear to church or an Aunt’s wedding, those rules never entered my mind. 

The dress was a safety blanket for me. I wore it so often, and played so much, that it was ripping and shrinking off of the skin I grew. Not that it bothered me one bit, as I continued to wear it. 

I wore it outside when the smell of chalk invaded any possible room for oxygen. Pinks and reds and purples and greens all stained the white of the dress, and the late afternoon sunbeams warmed the crease in my neck.

I wore it inside when Barbie went swimming inside the hollowed bathtub of our sky-blue walled bathroom, close enough a sky for any imagination. Barbie made too much a splash and water drenched the front of my dress, but it slid past my thoughts. Later on, the drying of my dress would harden and crinkle against my skin, because now it was not as soft as it once was, and the chalk stains turned to paint.

I wore it on the trampoline with my little sister, who loved to act as if I was an egg and the goal of the force from her small, twig legs was to crack me open. I held on to my knees as a koala hangs on to his branch, bouncing like a ball, and swaying from side to side, scuffing up my dress on every inch. Black skid marks were a token from the trampoline that I never once took for granted.

I wore the dress while eating dinner, the hill of spaghetti a force to be reckoned with. Not even I could control where the slurps and slips of each bite would land. Most on my dress, some on the floor where the dog would wag and sniff and lick. 

A few years later, the dress had become a shirt and I had beyond outgrown it. My little sister was handed it down, but I never knew what happened to it afterwards. I liked to believe that it was given to another little girl to play around in, or donated to someone else. 

About a month ago, I was sitting in a restaurant when I saw a blonde headed girl wearing it. 

Maybe not the exact dress, even though I would definitely love to believe that. She sat in the booth with her family and older brother, eating spaghetti.

I like to believe she loves chalk, Barbie, and trampolines too.
Until next time,

Tay❤