Our Greatest Enemy

     Today, I woke up and once again felt heavy sadness weighing on my heart. I physically felt my bones feeling sore, as if I had been hit by someone. All I wanted to do was cry it out, or talk to a friend. I said “screw this,” got out of bed, and put on my favorite outfit. I wasn’t going to start this semester on a sour foot. 

     I then proceeded to call my brother and talk with him for a while as I got ready for the day. My favorite eyeshadow. My favorite hairstyle. My favorite socks. My favorite pair of shoes. Anything and everything I could think of to make me feel happier than I was when I opened my eyes this morning. I adjusted my necklace and walked out the door, smiling. 

     When I got to school I sprayed my favorite perfume. Happiness. I opened my locker and read all of my uplifting sticky note messages I left for myself. Happiness. I smiled at people in the hallways whenever I could, and went to see my favorite teacher in a passing period. I participated. When I felt myself drifting back to my bed sadness, I would smile bigger. I laughed louder in class when a joke was told.  Because I told myself I was going to be happy today.

     When school was over, I jammed out in my car to The Greatest Showman soundtrack as I drove to apply for more jobs with the same, smiling face I put on once I got out of bed this morning. After about an hour, I didn’t have anything else left to do, so I went back to my home. 

     Upon unlocking the door to my messy apartment, I notice my unmade bed. I notice the emptiness of no one being here to talk to me about my day. I check my phone for a friend to talk to. I notice the sadness I left in my bed this morning, overflowing with a black aura. The black aura spills onto my carpet, its so misplaced. I barely get a chance to throw my bag on the floor and close the front door before I’m there, in my bed, surrounded by the blackness. And it all comes pouring out.

     You can choose to ignore what is pounding at your heart all you want. You can choose to ignore your sadness, leave it in your bed, and put on a mask all day. But that doesn’t mean it’s gone. It doesn’t mean your sadness is healed. Because eventually, you have to come back to your bed. Eventually, you have to feel whatever it is you’re casting aside to move on from it. You have to lay there in the morning and say “Okay, I’m feeling sad today. Let’s get up and try our best.” 

     Don’t shove your emotions to the side. Sooner or later, they will catch up with you, and they’ll be even bigger when they do. It’s okay to be sad, it’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to want to shut off the world for a day to feel what you need to feel. 

     Our emotions are like a dashboard of a car, with a multitude of check engine lights. One lights up when your hungry, and you know you need to eat. When you’re tired, you know you need to sleep for the light to go off. When you have an emotion like sadness, you can’t fix it by just covering it up with a piece of paper. That’s not how that works. Any of us who drive a car know that if we would do that for our check engine light and continue to drive our car, we would be in some deep trouble in the long run. Humans are the same.

     It’s okay not to be okay. It’s not okay to stay that way. Cry it out. Vent to someone. Go see your favorite movie and eat gallons of ice cream. Then, restart tomorrow. Stop putting on a mask, and let yourself feel what you need to feel. 

      Give yourself the love you would give to someone else. 
Until next time,




“That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.” -John Green

     I told myself I was done. I wasn’t going to write anymore. There’s too much pain and suffering for me to write anymore. It didn’t stick. I can’t not write. Writing is me. It’s what I do best.     

    There’s pain everywhere. There’s pain always, at all times. There’s the pain you can feel in your chest, pumping at all hours of the day-the pain that makes you want to cry, no matter what remedy you try. Sometimes, I wish more than anything that pain didn’t exist. That I could just brush it off and go about my day, like other people seem to do so easily.

     But pain hits deep for me. It always has. If anything, the smallest thing is blown up. So, imagine a big thing. It’s even bigger.

     I’ve had a lot of loss in my life. I’ve dealt with things out of my control. Pain is normal for me, at 19 years old. Fathers aren’t fathers. Family isn’t family. People leave after they promise they won’t. It’s not something out of the ordinary. So why does it still hurt? Or is it because of this pain that it continues to hurt even more each time something happens? 

     I used to think that pain was a never ending pile, continuing to keep adding the longer you trek on. Sometimes, I still do. 

     Do you ever wonder why you can’t roll over in the morning and feel sunshine instead of darkness? Why isn’t there an allotted amount of pain for everyone? Once you have your quota met, you get to be happy from there on out. 

     The picture you see above is a blanket on my heart recently. This is right outside my house. I don’t know how long it’s been there. Did it just show up, or did I just decide to take notice of it? “Smile” it says. And that’s it. That’s the only message I need. Everything else is hidden in between the chalk. “Keep eating, even if you hurt.” / “Get out of bed.” / “Put on your seatbelt, someone loves you.” / “Keep your head up.” And most importantly, the quite literal message, “smile.” Because it’s going to be okay, believe it or not. 

     I drove up one day and saw this message sitting there, and it hit me like a bus. It hit harder than the Truck of Loss or the Semi of Pain. 

     Have you ever felt a sensation so overwhelming you almost feel it rushing through your veins? It was as if all at once I felt life flourish through me to tell me I’m alive. That pain isn’t a reason to stop being alive, no matter how severe it seems at the time. Pain is temporary, even when it feels like that is all you’re made of.

     It’s not as if it’s easy. There are days I wake up and it hits me so hard that I don’t want to move. Or the days I have to force myself to smile because memories are in full swing. There are sometimes I find myself crying so hard in movies over something so small that hit me, because of everything pent up inside. If we never knew pain, we would never know happiness.

     There are so many things to look forward to. Mountains to climb, tunnels to drive through at 10 PM when the music is playing too loud for you to realize anything else is happening in the world. Walking across the stage to take a diploma in hand. Baths. Seeing yourself in your favorite outfit. Vacations. New movies to critique. New songs to listen to. New people to learn about and love, 

     Pain is hard, but so are you. We’re hardcore beings. Wear your pain like diamonds. Never let the thought slip through that you “cannot.” Because you can. You always could. 

     You’ve made it through every one of your bad times so far. You’ll make it through this pain. And you’ll make it through the next pain that comes. 

     One day. One day you’re going to wake up and it’s not going to hurt like this. You’ll roll over in your sheets with the sun soaking through the cracks in the blinds, having to squint to see properly. Nothing hurts for once. You’ll be in a career you fought for. Maybe even the bed you’ve always wanted. You’re going to be okay. And when you wake up not feeling any pain, my gosh. It’s going to be so great. We can look forward to that. And you’ll be so glad you stuck around to see it all unfold the way it did. 

     These are the things that keep me going, and smiling. Even through our pain, there’s something there. Find it, whatever it is. Hold on to it tightly. In my room, you’ll find a wall full of sticky notes. On each one is a reason for me to live. 

     Keep living through your pain. Don’t let this world break you. One day you will wake up without it hurting so badly. 

     At least we have that.

Until next time,



Please take the time to watch this video.

National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237

Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE

Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD

Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT

For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/ 

Stay alive. πŸ’™


“High school? Bullshit. The cafeteria is called the nutrition center. People wear their letter jackets even when it’s 90 degrees out.. And why do they give out letter jackets to marching band? That’s not a sport. We all know it.”*****

       -(Charlie) Stephen Chbosky. The Perks of Being a Wallflower
      When you were a kid, people would always ask you about your hypothetical desired super power. Like, if for whatever crazy reason an asteroid struck earth and aliens gave you an option, what would it be? Time travel might be kind of cool. Telekinesis would mess with my migraines. The ability to read minds is a super power I felt I already had. I was always the kid who chose to be invisible.

     I mean, come on; being invisible? You could sneak into the kitchen and get a juice box at night and your parents wouldn’t know it was you. When a kid was mean to you at school, you could mess with them without them knowing. Better yet, when you were in a situation you didn’t want to be in, you didn’t have to be there. 

      As I grew up, I came to the realization that the hypothetical questioning of What Super Power Would You Choose wasn’t all hypothetical. 5 year old me chose invisibility, so it seemed as I grew older, invisible I became. 

     I relate with Charlie. High school, in a sense, is bullshit. There’s this widening popularity contest for every student, and the pressure to fit in to where they need to. Friends stab you in the back on multiple occasions. Kids sneak drugs onto campus. You think one second that someone you care about is your friend, and that nothing else could possibly tear you apart. 

     But then it does.

      And while there is much more to worry about in this world than a high school friendship, (ie. Donald Trump as our president. Climate change. Sexual assault. Wildfires taking over California. Selling 13 year old girls for sex..) it feels like the end of the world to you. Teenagers are mean. They’ll do just about anything just to have a right image, or a right reputation. 

       I started off the year with a solid friend group, and it’s almost the end of the first semester with none of them in tow. Because of reputations of popularity. Because of differences. Because of the opinions of others being spread around instead of the truth. And why?? Why do they feel the need to gossip and lie? Why do they find it so important to be the one on top in the long run? Why do these things matter to teenagers? I guess I don’t identify myself with these “teenagers” seeing as these things don’t matter to me. 

     I’m not invisible in the sense I choose not to be seen, but rather people put a cloak of invisibility on me and choose not to see me. They choose not to acknowledge me. They choose to push me to the side, where I belong.

     Invisibility doesn’t feel nice when you see groups of people you used to be apart of and now you’re the only one outcasted. I wish to go back to the kindergarten invisibility, when you thought so sneakily of the things you could do if only you were invisible. Sneaking juice boxes, or getting extra minutes of recess. Once you get to high school, invisibility becomes a whole new ball game. 

     Why does someone else and their actions get to choose whether or not I wake up in the morning, fearing walking into school? Why does someone else get to choose I’m the only one not allowed to attend things I belong to? Why do they get to decide? That’s not fair.

     I’m not here to whine about it. That’s not why I wrote this blog. I’m here to tell you that if you feel this way, you aren’t alone. I felt as if I was for a long time, but I have an enormous support system from incredible people. I have a wonderful guy who is by my side with everything. No matter what, there are people out there for you. And remember, this is high school. It’s only 4 years long, and you’re never going to get it back. You can spend your last years hating ever second of every day because of the things other people do to you, or you can choose to ignore them and move on. 

     That’s something that took me a while to understand. No one, and I mean no one is allowed to make you feel inferior without your consent. They’re not worth your happiness, they’re not worth your senior year of high school. Letting them get you down is only letting yourself down. 

      On the other hand, be careful what you choose to do, because it affects people. Everything affects everything. You may not realize it, but spreading that rumor about that person, even though it isn’t true, affects someone. Not paying attention as someone is talking to you, affects someone. Be kind. You never know what someone is going through. Just, be kind, always. Be loving, always. 

     You’re not invisible. 

     You’re a light, and you’re shining for all the world to see. 

     Some people like to wear blindfolds.

Until next time,
**** disclaimer: I know marching band is a sport, this is just a funny quote from my favorite book/movie! Go marching band, you guys rock. πŸ˜‚β€

National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Eating Disorder Hotline: 1-800-931-2237

Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE

Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD

Self-Injury Hotline: 1-800-DONT-CUT

For more hotlines that you or a loved one may need, visit http://www.pleaselive.org/hotlines/ 

Stay alive. πŸ’™

The Push to Speak Up

Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better”

                 -The Beatles

     Where in the world have I been? I know, it’s been a while since I’ve typed up a blog for you all. I wanted to share something that was a dagger in my heart tonight with you all.

     It’s the night before Thanksgiving, and the Walmart here in our town is moving everything around to make room for Black Friday sales (chaos included.) I was sitting in my house when I realized I didn’t have any more soap, which is detrimental to a shower for me. My skin is so sensitive, and the air is so dry up here, that if I showered minus the soap I would surely dry up into a prune. Not a cute image. 

     So the quest began for some more soap. I threw on pants and drove to Wal-Mart at 9:00 at night. 

     If you’ve ever been shopping with me leading the pack, you’ll know I don’t just go in for one thing. I go in. I look at the chocolates just for the hell of it, then move on to the clothes. I’ll go to the specific item in the store I want more than anything. Then maybe I’ll mosey my way on to where I’m actually supposed to go. After checking out the on sale candy, I went to look at the off brand Sherpa pullovers that Wal-Mart was selling for $9. Not a bad deal. 

     In the midst of me feeling the softness, a couple walks towards the back of the store. The man follows the woman, who is obviously in distress. He is short and tubby, wearing a snapback and pants that fall way below his waist. He is huffing and puffing as he walks, yelling at her to stop. The woman with dark hair and dark eyes does as she’s told, but doesn’t turn around to meet his gaze. And then it unfolds something like this:

     Him: “You better slow the fuck down. I’m not fucking chasing you through all of Wal-Mart.” 

     Her (in a muffled voice): “Calm down, you’re humiliating me.”

     Him: “Humiliating you? No this is humiliating you.” (he raises his voice) “Slow the hell down or you can walk home!” 

     Her: (turns the cart and herself away from him and starts to walk towards the front of the store) 

     Him: “I’m not doing this. The way you treat me is unbelievable.” (To me and the family I was near in the Women’s Clothing section) “Can you believe this?”

     Her: (turning herself and the cart back towards him) Stop. You’re making a scene.

     Him: I’M making a scene? Do you see yourself right now? All I did was ask you to slow down and you couldn’t even do that for me. I could just leave you here, you know.

(They disappear to another part of the store leaving us all to ponder what was going to happen.) 

     I felt sick to my stomach watching this all play out, and after they left, I felt even sicker. The whole time, I just sat there, stricken with fear. I wasn’t even a victim and I was scared. Frozen. And although my body was in one place, my mind kept repeating Say something. Do something. Tell someone. Intervene. But I didn’t.

     I skipped the rest of my Steps of Shopping and went straight for what I needed. I wanted to go home. 

     As I headed to the Self Checkout, I see the two, the man waddling behind her. He’s shouting something at her and the 5 1/2 people in the store all stare. 

     Him: “Man, no more Christmas. No more Thankagiving. How lonely that will be for you, huh?” 

      Her: (stares straight ahead)

     Him: “If only these people could see how badly you treat me.” 

     He waddles right by me, so close I can smell his cologne and the weed on his breath. For a split second, I wonder if I was on an episode of What Would You Do and I think fast about what to do. My mind goes through millions of filing cabinets in my brain, thinking back to any and all articles I’ve ever read.

     And that’s just it.

     What do you do?

     What would you do?

     I’ve always said I would step out to someone abusing their child in the middle of the milk and cheese section. But what about a man being verbally abusive to a woman in between graham crackers and Sherpa pullovers? We can easily say “Oh 100% I would beat him up right there.”

     But would you really? 

     Endingviolence.org says “Chances are that at some point in your daily life you have witnessed, heard or seen someone act in a way that was derogatory, degrading, abusive or violent towards women. Be it in the form of a joke, cat call, comment, put down, or physical or sexual assault, this is all violence against women. In these moments, people often feel that their only choices are to say nothing, look the other way or physically intervene, potentially exposing themselves to violence. There is much more in fact that can be done.

     The same site suggests that rather than being violent towards the abuser, you rather speak directly towards the victim. Stand near them to offer your presence. Then, give her control. In this case, I should have gone directly to the woman and asked “Is he bothering you? / Are you okay? / Is there anyway I can help?” In any case, however, if there is a threat or physical harm of any kind, get help from security or 911 immediately. 

     I share this information with you, not to seem like I’m writing an essay for an english class, but because most of us don’t know. I left Wal-Mart, sat in my car and cried for this woman. As a female myself, I felt I had failed her. If I had been in her shoes, I would have wanted someone to say something. But I didn’t know what to say. So of course, I trusted my old friend, Google with that help. 

     Right before I left Wal-Mart, I went back inside and bought the Sherpa pullover I probably didn’t need, to remind me of this woman and all women who endure domestic violence, as corny as that may sound. And while most of you out there will go on with your Thanksgivings tomorrow, stuffing your face and watching football, I would like to ask a favor. Please think about these women who don’t get happy holidays, or happy any-days. The women that are suffering, or have suffered. Take a minute out of your day tomorrow to think about them. Then go back to your turkey, and enjoy the rest of your day. 

     For more information about what to do in case you find yourself in a situation where you happen to be a bystander, visit http://endingviolence.org/prevention-programs/be-more-than-a-bystander/what-you-can-do-to-be-more-than-a-bystander/ 
Until next time,

My Senior Year and Joining the Bovee Bunch???

“Here comes the sun, yeah don’t you know, it’s gonna be a good day.”

     This is the most exciting blog I have written yet.

     Surprise, surprise! Hooray, hooray! I’ve been keeping a huge secret from you all and you find out today!

     You see why I don’t dabble much in poetry. I’m definitely not the next Dr. Seuss. 

      Due to extenuating circumstances, I did not get to graduate high school last year when I was supposed to. I was forced to move unexpectedly away from Woodland Park to Texas. (A story for another time. I know, I know. How much crazier can this girl’s life get?)  It was hard for me when graduation rolled around and all of my friends were decorating their caps and taking senior pictures, meanwhile I was stuck in a situation I never wanted to be in.

      Nevertheless, a miracle came into my life. And to be quite honest, I can’t even remember exactly how it all came about.

     Noelle and I had been keeping close contact since I left Woodland Park. I was in a position where I wasn’t going to be able to graduate like a normal teen was. I was very upset to say the least. She knew this, and somehow or another she brought up “You can come live with me. You can graduate here. My parents have raised 3 kids before.”

     Thus began the plan of moving me there.

     It was sort of a long process. Once the idea was up in the air, Noelle had to convince her parents that I was someone they’d love, and someone they could trust. We Skyped, and talked through things over video since it was nearly impossible to do it in person. 

      The moment they officially asked me to come live with them was will forever be noted as one of the best moments of my entire life. 

      I still had a lot to do. For one, the car I had was not going to make a 12 hour drive. I sold it, and bought a new one. I had to find a time to move up there a register before the 22nd of August, when school starts. We moved dates about a hundred times, I think. 

(My new car)

     But finally, my mother, sister, brother and I made the trek up to Colorado. Saying goodbye to my aunt back home and our animals was so hard. I kept telling myself that this is all for me, and most importantly, a good thing.

     It was a long drive. None of us slept the night before, whether it be nerves or sickness or just plain insomnia. We turned a 12 hour drive into a 17 hour drive, from stopping to eat or get food. We ended pulling over at the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo to sleep for an hour and a half.

(My old room as I finished packing)  

 (My sister, Amber, and I showing signs of exhaustion)

(A funny picture of Andrew)

     We eventually made it to Colorado, and enjoyed the next day and a half together before they had to go home. I apologize for all of the pictures of them I’m about to give you in advance. 

 (Amber and Andrew in their natural habitat)

(Amber found a dog she loves)

(All of us together on our last day)

(Amber and Andrew once again)

(My mom on top of the mountain looking as gracious as ever.) 

    It is a little strange. While most of my peers are moving in to their college dorms and apartments, getting ready for new classes, I’m doing the same; but instead I’m going for high school. There parents just dropped them off and settled them in. Mine have done the same, but again, it’s for high school this time. 

     The day they left was really emotional. But we got our emotions out right away, and once they left I was part of the Bovees. 

     They’ve been absolutely incredible to me with every aspect of adjusting. Every morning I wake up on my bunk and I have to remind myself that I’m not spending the night; I live here. This is a permanent placement for now. (What an oxymoron.) I love it here. I love the red paint in the kitchen and the way the floors creak, despite how light you try to step on them. I love the way I can’t figure out the shower for the life of me. I love the “I Am Enough” messages posted around the house. Most of all, I love the never ending string of hugs here that always seem to come at just the right moment. There’s always enough love. You never go to bed here worrying if you are loved, because that’s just not something you have to worry about.

     You are loved. Plain and simple. 

      And don’t worry. Noelle and I get along just fine, even with our limited space. 

     Tomorrow I start my senior year. A year late. And although it may be different than what life what was “supposed” to have in store for me, I am always under the impression that life is wonky. Life is screwed up and crazy and doesn’t always go the way we plan for it to, or necessarily want it to. But that doesn’t mean that it is wrong. It doesn’t mean we can’t still become doctors or poets, or even just for the fun of it, physicists. To quote from my favorite book of all time, “We can’t choose where we come from, but we can choose where we go from there.” I choose happiness. I choose what’s screwed up and wonky and different. In the end, maybe this is what was really “supposed” to happen with my life. I’ll never know. I’m not the big man with the strings controlling it up there. 

     But life is full of expectations. It is full of crazy roads that lead nowhere that turn you around to start again. Here I am. I’m starting again.

     Screwed up. Messy. But okay. I’m okay with it. Senior year, here I come.

     I really hope you’re a good one.
Until next time,



I have joined the vlogging community with The Bovee Bunch (even though we should all remember my blog about how I should never do that again.) Please like and subscribe! You don’t want to miss a second of what happens this year!


My Best 4 Years

 “I remember your bare feet, down the hallway. I remember your little laugh.” 

      I have to talk about something hard today, because my heart has been hurting.

     My little brother came into the world on September 24th of 2012, and made my heart so full of love. He was the child of my father and his wife, so my half-brother, but I never felt so close to someone. He had bright blue eyes, and the second I saw them I was locked in. He was so perfect and pure. He hadn’t made any mistakes yet, and didn’t have time behind him where the world messed him up. I vowed to protect him, no matter what, and never stop loving him. 

     Having my little brother made the time spent with my father easier. He made me laugh and smile, and I knew I would be okay because he lit up the room with his smile, or dancing. 

     He gave me the best hugs.

      He was ticklish on the bottom of his left foot, and he used to scream when I blew raspberries on his tummy. He couldn’t function right if he didn’t have juice when he woke up in the morning. The thing I loved most about him was when he squeezed my pinky finger with his tiny, tight fist.

I can still feel you hold my hand, little man.

     Things got tough in the few years I was with him, as most of you know. I made a very hard decision to leave my father’s house after the abuse got too bad. 

     With that, came the consequence of losing my precious, baby brother. I knew this. I thought I was prepared to leave without him. 

I remember your blue eyes, looking into mine, like we had our own secret club.

     When I knew what decision I had to make, I couldn’t stand to look at him. One of the nights before I left, I ended up having to babysit him. He was with me in the living room, dancing to Pharrell’s “Happy”, his favorite song at the time, when I just burst into hysterics. He stopped dancing and sat in my lap with his Cheerios. He didn’t understand why I was crying. I didn’t want him to understand.

     He started laughing, then realized I was crying and put his fingers on my chin. “Tay Tay, was wrong?” I didn’t answer, obviously, because that made me cry even more. He then put out his finger, circling it around my nose and making a bzzzzzBOOP noise, something we did to each other. “Tay Tay okay?”

      I just smiled at him, tears falling down my face like Niagara Falls at this point. “Tay Tay okay.” 

     He stood up, wobbling on his heels and bent down, kissing me with his eyes open. 

      “I love you, I love you, I love you.” I remember repeating to him. 

      “I wuv you too.” He said, stretching out to escape my hug. He walked away and started playing with his firetruck. 

     That was the last conversation I remember having with him. I wish, more than anything, I would have made it last longer. I would have made him hang on a little longer. I would have kissed him harder. But I didn’t.

     I don’t regret leaving my father’s house a bit. With any decision comes consequences. And this is a consequence I will forever have to deal with. 

     I can’t protect him anymore. I can’t see him anymore. My sister updates me all of the time on how he is, what he’s learning in preschool, what joke he made. Without her, I wouldn’t even know he was alive. He doesn’t know that I am who I am. He refers to me as “Amber’s sister.”

     That breaks my heart.

     I have a song for him, that I listen to when I miss him more than usual. I encourage you to read the lyrics, though they don’t fully pertain to my situation. I’ll post a link to the song as well.

I remember your bare feet down the hallway
I remember your little laugh
Race cars on the kitchen floor, plastic dinosaurs
I love you to the moon and back

I remember your blue eyes looking into mine
Like we had our own secret club
I remember you dancing before bed time
Then jumping on me, waking me up

I can still feel you hold my hand, little man
And even the moment I knew
You fought it hard like an army guy
Remember I leaned in and whispered to you

Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years

I remember the drive home
When the blind hope turned to crying and screaming “Why?”
Flowers pile up in the worst way, no one knows what to say
About a beautiful boy who died

And it’s about to be Halloween
You could be anything you wanted if you were still here
I remember the last day when I kissed your face
And whispered in your ear

Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
Out of this curtained room in this hospital grey, we’ll just disappear
Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years

What if I’m standing in your closet trying to talk to you?
What if I kept the hand-me-downs you won’t grow into?
And what if I really thought some miracle would see us through?
What if the miracle was even getting one moment with you?

Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
Come on baby with me, we’re gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years

I remember your bare feet down the hallway
I love you to the moon and back


     Tay Tay always loves you, Austin Ray. To the moon and back.
Until next time,


Take a Risk, Take a Chance, Make a Change

“I spread my wings and I learn how to fly.”

     Today’s blog is relatively cut and dry, because I just needed to get this all out there. I’ve seen a lot of posts on social media about how people are “scared to do this” or “scared to do that.” People. We can’t let fear run our lives. 

     While fear can keep you safe, it’s not exactly your best friend when you’re attempting to broaden your horizons. 

     It’s not easy to step into unknown territory, where you’re not exactly sure how far it is until your feet hit the ground. Some stay away from the idea of New, because it’s out of their comfort zone. 

     But what if no one ever tried anything New? What if our entire lives amounted to nothing, because we were too frightened to step outside of The Comfort Zone? There would be no Picasso, no Shakespeare, no Johnathan Larson. The world would never know of Beethoven, or even Oprah Winfrey.  

     These names are known to the world because they all had the courage to do something that scared them, and became successful because of it. 

     Not every single one of us are destined to be widely known and infamous for our choices in life. It’s just not realistic. We can still take away from those that are, and establish the notion into our own lives. 

     Maybe if you take a chance, you’ll earn a promotion at work. Or take the risk of wanting to go cliff diving. There are benefits to every experience you have. Sometimes, that benefit may just end up being the life lesson of “well I’m never doing that again..” In the end, you learn and grow, and that is the most valuable thing. 

     If you don’t take risks, you’ll forever be sitting in your bed with the sheets to your chin. You won’t have a life. 

     Swallow the fear and jump into the water head first. 

     Just imagine what life would be like if no one took chances. It would be a colorless, monotone world to live in. How sad that really is. 

     Get out there into the world, and pack fear into your suitcase. 

      Stop living your life just because you’re scared. You may be on the brink of something so incredibly beautiful.
Until next time,