♡ the life of a 25 year old hopeless romantic ♡

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"This song is talking to the person you haven't even met yet. Maybe they're rolling around in the hay with someone else, but they're not as good as you're gonna be. You just have to wait your turn. He's out there, she's out there. They're just learning what to contrast you against."






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letter to rose. (secret #10)}
Thursday, May 28, 2015 | 9:27 PM | 0Comment

Dear Rose,

Hi. It’s been a while.

You’re probably wondering why I’ve written this letter to you after not talking to you or seeing you for so long. The truth is, I have a lot of things I want to get off of my chest. For a long time, I was upset. But I’ve never been good at speaking my feelings out loud, so I thought this letter was the best way to express myself.

I’m sure that you’ve been wondering why I stopped talking to you.

Let me tell you something. In 2012, a friend of mine passed away in a car accident. Since that happened, from the end of 2012 and throughout 2013, I struggled with severe depression. I rarely left the house. I also began having regular panic attacks and showed other symptoms of an anxiety disorder.

I have improved since then, but I still struggle with these things every single day. I still have panic attacks. There are times I still struggle to get out of bed and do normal things like bathing. I still struggle to leave my house for things as simple as going to class or running an errand.

Surprised? This isn’t something I’m comfortable talking about with most people, and struggling with mental illness is not easy to talk about. At the worst of my symptoms, I felt abnormal, embarrassed, and scared all the time. I just needed someone to be there for me to talk to and to lean on. And for the first time, you weren’t there for me.

I know you were always there for me when my dad went away, and when I was in online school, and that means a lot to me still. Nothing will erase what you did for me back then, and how I’ll always be grateful for that. But my 20th birthday forced me to reevaluate some things and take a closer look at our friendship.

I’ll always cherish all of our good memories, like how we would play at summer day camp, play dress up and Barbies, having intense discussions about books, endless sleepovers, our Harry Potter marathons and laughing at stuff online. Those times will always be close to my heart.

But other times, it seemed like it was so easy for you to forget about me. You’ve always been able to make friends easily, I’ve always envied you for that. Everyone liked you, and you’ve always had plenty of people to fall back on. You didn’t have to worry about going places without me, or having to be on your own.

I think that’s partly what set the dynamic in our friendship for years. I always needed you more than you needed me. I was this weak, fragile little mouse that needed someone braver to lead me. Back then, codependency was all I knew. So seeing that you didn’t need me, or care about me as much as I cared about you, broke me.

I don’t think you’ll ever fully understand how what happened on my 20th birthday devastated me. At that point in time, I was still grappling with the loss of my friend, and I thought that you were the last person that was there for me in some way. But after that day I realized that maybe you didn’t really care about me at all.

As I continued to struggle with my depression and anxiety, without even the slightest indication that you wondered about how I was doing, or even thought of me at all, this further cemented my wounded feelings. When my mom went to the hospital in late 2013, and I heard not one word from you, I finally realized that we weren’t even friends anymore. I didn’t understand how someone who used to be like family to me could throw me away so easily.

Was it so easy for you? I know that new relationships can be fresh and exciting, and it’s easy to get distracted. But I didn’t even exist to you anymore. I wasn’t even worth texting or getting coffee with. When other people made plans with you, they were a priority, and our plans were constantly cancelled by you, or blown off, or turned into a date for me to tag along on. Had I become too boring for you? Too weird? Or did you do this because you knew I wouldn’t say anything, and you could get away with it?

Was I that easy to take advantage of, or was I just insignificant? Our friendship was everything to me, and I needed you in my life. Yet you couldn’t even spare me a phone call.

Our friendship had suddenly become something unhealthy, and it made me sad more than it made me happy. And I’d finally found some other friends that made me feel happy and made me feel like being myself was okay. So, for the sake of my well-being and happiness, I had to distance myself from you.

Something I do have to apologize for is not being able to be there for you. I know this part of your life has been really difficult and confusing for you. I know you’ve been struggling, too. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But you can only be there so much for someone who doesn’t care about you in return.

That’s not to say that different people’s personal problems should be compared in any way, I just mean that after a certain amount of time, if it’s one person giving and giving and giving support, eventually they get tired. And I was tired of not feeling appreciated or important to you.

To be honest, I do miss you. Distancing myself from you was maybe one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. For months, I cried every day. Every time something important happened to me, I wanted so badly to tell you, but then the thought occurred to me that you probably wouldn’t care.

But in the past couple of years, I’ve grown a lot. And being dependent on someone who isn’t dependent on me isn’t enough for me anymore. I’ve been trying in every way to be healthier, and happier, and not having unhealthy relationships in my life is part of that. I still care about you, and still want the best for you. But I’m trying to take care of myself now. And if being friends with you isn’t a part of that, then I have to continue to move on.

I wrote this letter because for a long time, I thought staying silent was better. I didn’t want things to escalate into a giant blowout in case you didn’t like what I had to say, because that’s not how I wanted things to end. But then I kept thinking about my friend that died at just 23 years of age, and wondered if there were things she never got to tell people. Things that she just kept inside of her until her life was taken from her. If there’s anything I’ve learned the most, it’s that you never know what could happen tomorrow. I didn’t want to regret never saying any of this to you.

Regardless of what’s happened, and what may happen in the future, I want you to know that I might never have another best friend like you ever again. You deserve the best in your life, and I hope you always remember that. Life is cruel to all of us, but we all deserve true happiness and fulfillment. Never stop fighting for it.


xo Hopeless Romantic

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letter to ricky bobby: 2015 edition. (secret #9)}
Wednesday, May 13, 2015 | 11:19 PM | 0Comment

Dear Ricky Bobby,

Hey. It's been a while, hasn't it?

First of all, I want to say that I hope you've been okay. Life can really be cruel sometimes, but I hope that it's been mostly kind to you, and that all of the good outweighs the bad.

You may be wondering why I wrote this letter to you after not speaking to or even seeing you for so long. I'm not good at expressing myself face to face, and I'm a better speaker in writing, so this is the easiest way for me to say important things. I have a few apologies to make to you. In truth, I should have written this letter years ago, but I was so caught up in the lies I told myself that I couldn't admit to what was true.
I'm gonna try not to sound overly formal with this whole letter, but that's kinda hard for me at times. Also, a lot of this has been building up inside of me for the past few months now, so I kind of have a lot to say.

None of this is easy for me to talk about at all, but I think it's important that I do. Don't feel pressured to reply to this, you really don't have to. I'll be honest and say that this letter is mostly for me to get stuff off my chest. So no worries, ok?

I've been thinking about some things over the past half year or so, while trying to be honest with myself, and I've realized a thing or two.

Firstly, I'm sorry that I never told you, to your face, that I was in love with you. You heard from plenty of other people, hell, from every other person in the world besides me. And that wasn't fair of me. So many things got misconstrued that way, and I believe that my feelings for you were interpreted wrongly sometimes. You weren't just some crush to me, Ricky Bobby, and you deserve to know that. Everyone deserves to know that they're special to somebody. I'm sorry I never mustered up the courage to tell you, even when I really, really wanted to. Like when you were moving away and I was saying goodbye to you, and like when you came back and we were alone one or two times and I had all the opportunity to.

Second, I'm sorry I was afraid. Back in the 8th grade, I had super low self esteem. In high school, it improved slightly, but I was still insecure and really afraid of rejection. I was still growing as a person in a lot of ways, and I don't think that I was ready to go out with anybody then.

And when you moved back, I realized that I still had feelings for you. After trying a whole 2 years to forget about you and move on, that terrified me. It terrified me even more that we hung out at those football games and my feelings were stronger than ever. I was hoping that when you moved back, I would show you that I was over you and you weren't a big deal to me anymore, and that's not what happened. I was scared of the direction things maybe might have been heading in(or probably might not have been, to this day I'm still not completely sure either way. I never really could figure you out, and I mean that as a compliment.) and I knew that in the future, if you were to show any sort of interest in me in return, I wouldn't have been able to hide my feelings anymore, which meant that I would be vulnerable. Being vulnerable has always been uncomfortable for me. I'm sorry I was so prideful.

So, I kind of pushed you and Johnny away. I avoided you, hoping that if I pretended that you didn't exist and pretended that you meant nothing to me, it would be easier to move on. For this immaturity, I'm also sorry.

It sort of worked for a little while. That is, until I logged onto Facebook one day, saw that you were dating someone, got super jealous and blocked you. Really sorry for that. It was bitchy, I know. But I figured you wouldn't notice, and to be fair, I don't think you did. Even if you didn't, though, I still feel guilty about it. But after you had been blocked for a while, it was easier to keep you off my mind. It also helped the jealousy stay away. For a long while, it felt like I really had moved on.

But eventually, my immaturity came back and bit me in the ass. I only just recently got the courage to unblock you and add you as a friend again. I'm over my blocking phase on Facebook now, so there'll be no more blocking now, I promise.

I lied to myself for a long time about my feelings for you. I think the seriousness of my feelings scared me. I wasn't ready to deal with those kinds of feelings, and confront them in a healthy way, and so I pushed them away. In the end, that only hurt me more, and now I'm left with these residual regrets years later. I'll probably always regret the way I handled things between us, and that's why I've written this.

I'm in this phase of my life where I'm trying to be more honest with myself than I was in the past. It's a little hard, but it's been helping me realize some things about my past and about myself. I think coming to terms with things in my life will partly come with being honest with myself and with others, and being less of a goddamn coward. Haha. I'm still working on it, but I'm doing pretty okay so far.

One last thing I want to say is that at some point, you meant a whole lot to me. It's hard to explain why when I don't even know why myself. You were the first guy I ever had really strong feelings for. I know you didn't realize it, but for me, my 8th grade year was hell. Even just waking up in the morning every day was hard, but seeing you everyday at school made it just a little bit easier. It gave me a reason to show up at school and smile and keep trying. For that, thank you. Regardless of how old I get, I'll never forget that. I hope you don't forget that either.

Because this letter is getting to be too long, I guess I'll end it here. I felt like I couldn't go my entire life without saying any of those things to you, I think I owed it to both of us to say it all. Hope it didn't weird you out.

I wish you happiness and love and health and everything that you deserve.

Always,

Sarah

((Sequel entry to this original dramatic emo entry.))

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hindsight is 20/20. (secret #8.) }
Tuesday, September 2, 2014 | 12:17 AM | 0Comment

You know how sometimes you look back on things in your life, and you wonder how you could have been so oblivious to something so obvious--and you just wonder how you couldn't see things clearly then?

Some of you guys may recall this iconic entry of mine: the legendary Noodles & Co trip of my Junior year. Remember the part where I said that Best Friend Rose whispered to me that she had something to tell me later, but I never said what it was?

I don't know why I never said what she said, I guess I just forgot and forgot and kept forgetting and forgot for a good 4 years, hahaha. But here's what she told me, later that night on a phone call after the football game: 

Before I showed up to the game, Ricky Bobby asked everybody if I was coming to the game. Everybody. Repeatedly. And talked about me the whole time, saying how much he wanted to hang out with me again. And when he was told that I was coming, he was excited.

Now. The other day, I randomly thought of this night. (I do this every once in a while, it's a fond high school memory for me after all. It'll probably always be special to me.) And I remembered another part of that night that I'd forgotten to write about.

It was after we'd come back to the football game after the trip to Noodles & Co, when Burrito had left and Johnny had run off somewhere else and it was just me and Ricky Bobby, finally alone, sitting in the grass, with his leg on top of mine. 

Internet...I cannot tell you how badly I wanted to say something to him. About the 8th grade. About how I felt. Because as of then, I had still never talked about how I felt about him to him, never ever confronted it at all. Even when he found out that I had feelings for him, it was always through other people. And the two years that he'd lived far away, I'd wished so badly that I'd told him the truth, the whole truth, about how I felt about him. At least once.

And that night, alone on the grassy hillside with him, I came so close. I wanted nothing more than to look into his eyes, and hold his hand(I even did this stupid thing where I randomly started ripping up the dried grass and handing it to him, just so I could touch his hand. Pathetic and elementary school of me, I know.), and tell him how much I missed him and cried over him after he left, and how I never stopped thinking about him once during those two years.

I even opened my mouth after a long silence, and said, "Hey...Ricky Bobby. Can I tell you something?"

And when he leaned toward me and said, "Of course," I completely shut down and was immediately terrified of what I was doing and thought I'd lost my mind.

So I said, "Never mind." 

And that was it. He prodded at me, asking me again and again what I wanted to tell him, and I laughed it off and told him it was nothing. I think he might have sensed that what I was going to say was serious, and he always was perceptive of emotions--there were times where he would look into my eyes and I felt like he could see right through me--so maybe he read it all over my face. But I said never mind. And the moment passed. And I never said it.

Isn't it terrifying how something so important could go unsaid forever? Like all of the possibilities just vanish and float away into space, never to be seen again.

I don't know why I left those out before, actually. Maybe it was just that I forgot. Or maybe it was because I knew that those were things--not amazing things, but little things, things that if I had looked into them before, I could've seen that maybe, just maybe, Ricky Bobby wanted me to tell him how I felt. And the reason he wanted to hang out with me so badly was because he wanted to get to know me better, and talk to me more, and maybe even just...see me. See my face to see it, because he wanted to. 

I'm not saying he definitely had an interest in me, I'm just saying that the possibility was there. And I was so terrified of being rejected by him again that I was too scared to take a chance on that possibility. So scared of him breaking my heart again that I ran away. 

Hell, even in that birthday voicemail he and Johnny left me, he still wanted to see me. Almost 6 months later. And yet I still ran. I ran as fast as I could from him.

Had I had a second chance at all of this, I think I would have told him. Because telling him wouldn't have been weak--it would have been giving things a true second chance. That way, if he had rejected me again, I would have really been able to move on with no regrets. 

It's too late for that now, obviously. We've both moved on with our lives, and I don't think that Johnny even stays in contact with him anymore. Though I did finally unblock him on Facebook, and when I did, I noticed that he had a girlfriend. Dunno if he still does.

But I can't help but still wonder what things would have been like, what would have happened if I would have told him. If I would have held his hand. If we would have gone out for that coffee.

I hope he's alright these days.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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Loss. (Secret #7.)}
Tuesday, January 17, 2012 | 5:15 PM | 0Comment

Internet, don't you just hate when life comes and bites you in the ass?

As I type this, my dinner is sitting beside me, untouched. I can't bring myself to eat it. I can't even look at it.

Today was officially my last day of Winter Break (discounting all the days I did my finals on). I'd basically spent all day watching movies and being lazy. Pretty good day, right? Well.

Ten minutes ago, my dad came into my room telling me that dinner's ready. My dad's one of those people that you can immediately tell when something's wrong, you can see it written all over them. At first he just looked down at the floor. And then when my dad started to cry, I felt this unbelievable dread wash over me, because nothing in the world is worse than seeing your parents cry.

I immediately asked him what happened. I'll tell you what he told me, but first let me tell you some background.

Ever since I was 5 years old, I've gotten my hair chemically straightened. Seeing as I'm black, my hair's curly, and to make it easier to manage, my mom started taking me to a small local salon to chemically straighten it. So, every three months or so for the past 13 years, I've gone back to get it touched up.

The people who run this salon are actually a couple that have known my parents for years. Since way before they had me. And considering how long they've known our family, and how long we've known them, they're some of our closest family friends. I've always called them Uncle and Aunt. Sometimes I even forget that I'm not really related to them. But even if we're not blood related, we're family.

I still remember going when I was very young. Uncle had a booster seat that they put in the swivel chair, and they had bought it just for me. And whenever Uncle rinsed my hair after shampooing it, he would tell me to tell him if the water was too hot. And he never tugged my hair too much when he got the tangles out.

Two weeks ago, the day after Christmas in fact, we'd found out that Uncle had went to the doctor.

As of then, I had just seen him only a few days before. I'd been there to get my hair done so it would look nice for Christmas. I remember very vividly that he looked gaunt. Uncle's a tall man, very tall, and he'd always been pretty slender, but never to the point where he looked unhealthy. But when I saw him this time, it almost looked as if there was only skin pulled tightly over the bones. His cheekbones protruded, and there were heavy shadows under his eyes. I was sort of taken aback as soon as I saw him, and immediately, I'd wondered if something was wrong. I don't think I'd ever seen someone that looked so ill in person before.
The day after Christmas, we found out that he had cancer.

At that time, we didn't know what kind of cancer, or what stage it was in, so we could only cross our fingers that it wouldn't be so bad. After all, my mom had breast cancer, but it was caught so early that she was able to recover.

Well.

When dad came in my room tonight, he told me that Uncle has 48 hours to live.

I've been crying for the past hour, and the tears are still running down my face. And you know, what gets me the most is that this isn't the first time this has happened in the past month.

I didn't write about it, because it's still something that's very shocking to me even now, but I guess now I'm forced to come to terms with it.

Since we've moved into this house, we've lived next door to this family. These two women had an eight year old son, and he was from one of the women's previous marriages. They were all very nice, and my grandma even watched their son after school every day, because he happened to go to the same school as my 8 year old cousin. So they would carpool together, and they were good buds. Also, my dad had become reasonably close friends with one of the women, and they would talk sometimes when she would come to pick up her son.

The past few months, this couple was having some marital problems, and as the one close to my dad had told him, her partner sometimes had a bit of a drinking problem, and that was part of the reason they fought. Over Thanksgiving break, her partner even kicked her out of the house for a few days, that's how badly they fought. Incidentally, since she had nowhere to stay, she actually stayed over at our house for a few days. Her son was in Chicago with her ex-husband, so it was just her. We felt bad because we don't have a guest room, but she seemed willing to sleep on our inflatable mattress in the living room.

After Thanksgiving, their fights got progressively worse, and there was one particular incident when the police were called; police cars and an ambulance were directly by our house and everything. After this fight happened, this woman was basically kicked out of her house again, and her wife warned that she had a month to pack up and take her son and leave. As you could probably guess, this put enormous pressure on this woman. She basically had no place to go with her son and she was being broken up with. My dad offered her help again, and told her that if there was anything we could do, just call.

On Christmas Day, our neighbor's wife rang our doorbell.

My dad answered it, and then he stepped outside to talk to her. Afterwards, he had told us that she looked so lost, so small. She told him that her wife had died.

A few days earlier that week, she herself had gone to get hand surgery at a small hand surgery clinic. She had to have someone to drive her there and back, and, not having anyone else to ask, she asked her wife to do it, even though that was the same person she was kicking out of her house soon. Her partner agreed to, and so she waited in the waiting room as the surgery was performed.

Stay with me, here. Best Friend Rose's stepmom, 'Penny', works at this surgery center. And apparently, this is how Rosie heard about this. Yes, really. You can't make this stuff up.

As this woman was waiting in the waiting room, something happened. I'm still not sure what happened, but apparently she passed out. Then, she stopped breathing. Penny was in the waiting room at the time, and she was performing CPR, trying her absolute best to resuscitate her. My neighbor was never revived. And her partner had seen the whole thing, standing in the doorway and watching in horror.

She was young still. Only 36.

We still don't know exactly what went wrong. A week ago, we saw her paragraph in the paper's obituary section. As for her partner, we haven't heard from her or seen her since my grandma went to her funeral. And as for her son, he was in Chicago at the time of her death, and from now on, he'll be living with his father.

Can I tell you something, Internet? A secret that has haunted me deep down, as long as I can remember? Something that I've never told anybody, ever?

There is nothing on this planet that terrifies more more than death.

I'm sure there's not many people alive right now that welcome death. I'm sure this sort of fear is very common, and in fact, normal. But I swear to God, there is nothing else I can think of that horrifies me and shakes me straight to my core.

There's times when I lie awake at night thinking about it, thinking about the horror of the moment when a life is gone from this Earth and nothing is the same. Just one second. That's all it takes for a life to end and countless lives around it to be changed forever. I've laid in bed with tears falling down my face at even the thought of it.

Every time this sort of tragedy even touches the outer edges of my life, it almost makes me sick. My mind immediately goes to the ones I love. I think, what about my grandparents? My aunts, uncles? My cousins? My best friends? Whoever my future husband will be? God forbid, my parents? What if these people, these people that are so vital to me like oxygen or water or food, disappeared forever? The thought that one day, all of them could be gone...I can't even tell you the feeling I get. Words cannot articulate. It makes me want to throw up, to scream in agony. I can't live without them, but one day, I'll have to. And just thinking about it tears me to shreds.

And that's why I try to never think about it. And most of the time I don't. But every once in a while I do, and then I can't stop. Just yesterday, I was thinking about my grandfather's death. I still cry thinking about how I always told him I'd go fishing with him, but in the end, I never did.

I think that's what's scariest about death; once it happens, all the promises are left in the air and the goodbyes final, and it's too late to go back.

Uncle is in the hospital right now, and he was too weak to even talk to my dad on the phone.

I hate funerals, but it would be a dishonor not to go to Uncle's. He was a part of my life, a part of my family, and knowing that I'll never get to say goodbye and to tell him that I love him is the hardest part. The last time I saw him, I promised him that I would invite him to my high school graduation. He won't get to see me graduate now. In fact, he won't get to see his own grandchildren graduate.

He's a wonderful man. I just hate knowing that he'll leave this Earth without knowing that I feel that way. It's just so horrible. It actually kills me. I feel sick.

I don't know if I'll be able to do my school work tomorrow. I just don't know. I know that it'll give me a sick day on the very first day of second semester, but to be honest, I really don't care. I just need some time to deal with this.

Just to put it out there, I might not update for at least a week or two. I hope you guys can understand. I just need some time.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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Letter to Jazz. (Secret #6.)}
Wednesday, October 12, 2011 | 3:54 PM | 2Comment

Hey Jazz, can I be honest?

Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’ve been avoiding you. Because I’m kind of upset with you, actually.

There are so many things that have gone on the past few months that have stacked up, that I don’t even know where to begin.

Here's one. I don’t appreciate the way you talk to me. It really bothers me when you say things like, ‘let’s get you out of the house’ and ‘we need to get you out dude’. I know we used to joke about that during sophomore year, and back then it was funny, but now it’s not. Now I find it pretty patronizing, to be honest. I used to joke like that during sophomore year because it was true and I was still getting used to online school, but I’m happy now. Maybe if you talked to me more often, you’d know that it’s different now.

I’ve learned how to balance my school and everything else, and I live normally, not like some hermit you sometimes make me out to be. I’m perfectly fine with the way my life is now, and you should accept that.

I know it might not make sense to you because you’re always busy with stuff for school and hanging out with people and stuff, but that’s what makes you happy. Not me. You’ve got to understand that I’ve grown to love my life the way it is, along with my everyday school life and being inside my own skin, and when I hear you say things like that to me or about me it really offends me.

Honestly, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and I don’t appreciate being treated like a socially retarded 12 year old. I’m happy hanging out with you, at least I used to be. But I hate it when you say things like that. I want you to want to hang out with me because you want to, not because you feel like you owe me a field trip out of the house. That makes me feel like your obligation, not your friend.

I also don’t appreciate the way you talk about Best Friend Rose around me. I really haven’t said this until now, I know, but I just need to say it. I get that you don’t like her, and even though I have no idea why you don’t, I’ll leave it at that. But don’t talk crap about her around me. Please. She’s my best friend, didn’t you realize that it would bother me? I know you think she’s this awful person, but try to understand. I’ve been best friends with her for almost 14 years now. Since preschool. And while you’re my friend too, I really can’t stand it when you talk about her to me like she’s this mustache twirling villain. I get that you don’t like her. But that’s your business. Don’t involve me in it. Plain and simple. And for the record? Best Friend Rose had no problems whatsoever with you before, and I know you find that hard to believe, but she didn't. She really liked you. And I would've known if she had felt otherwise, because she tells me everything. Now the only problem she has with you is the way you've been treating me. Just so you know.

Something else that’s been bothering me happened a long time ago, and I should’ve said something about it then, but I didn’t. Remember the day before New Year’s Eve, when you spent the night, and there was that huge blizzard? You had been invited to a New Year’s party at someone else’s house, but you were worried about driving in the storm, so I offered that you could just stay another night if you really were concerned about driving all the way across town in the snow.

We entertained the idea, so much to the point where I was under the impression that you really were going to stay for New Year’s Eve, and I was excited. I was really happy because I never really get to do fun things for New Year’s, considering my parents never stay up until midnight on New Year’s and Rosie was on a trip, just like she had the year before, so we couldn’t do anything together either. So after we started talking about the stuff we could do until midnight, maybe a half an hour passed.

And then you left.

No apology, no excuses, you just left. And pretty quickly, too. Jazz, I would have completely understood if you just wanted to leave and go to that party, which I’m sure you did. But you could have at least told me to my face. I’m a big girl. I would have understood.

Even if you had said, “Sorry, I have to go to this party, bye!” it would have been much better. But you entertained the idea of staying over, and even got excited with me. It would have been much easier to handle if you hadn’t humored me like you really wanted to stay, just to leave hurriedly a half an hour later.

Nobody’s ever done that to me before. It really hurt my feelings. I was honestly so hurt that I cried. I thought that maybe I’d get to be with one of my closest friends for New Year’s, and that I wouldn’t have to be by myself, sitting in my room, watching the ball drop on TV, but I was. I was alone on New Year's Eve, and I cried myself to sleep.

And it felt like maybe I only had one best friend, not two.

And the time I told you that I was very serious about taking writing seriously, and I even wanted to get published? You were doubtful. I could see it in your eyes that you really didn't believe that I could get published, that I was good enough to be published. And honestly? I know that. Of course I know that. But I was telling you expecting to get some support, knowing that I'll get skepticism and doubt from everyone else, but the least I was expecting was to get it from you.

You know, these days it just really feels like you don’t give two craps about me anymore. You used to let me know what was going on in your life, talk to me about stuff that was bothering you. We used to talk for hours, and I liked that. And I used to talk about my stuff with you and I felt like you cared, but lately I don’t. Even when I told you about Drew the last time you slept over, I thought maybe you’d be happy for me for having my first date ever. Or that maybe you’d be more sympathetic when I told you that it didn’t work out. But it didn’t seem like you cared at all. You seemed kind of bored listening to my problems, actually.

It looked like you would have rather left with Nate* and (the other)Sarah to go do whatever, instead of hanging out with me and actually talking with me for the first time in 8 months. I guess maybe I'm too boring for you now.

The thing that gets me the most is that you slowly drifted away from me, and I get the feeling that it's mostly because I don't go to your school anymore. And that's the exact thing that we both promised wouldn't happen.
To sum it all up, I just don’t even feel like I’m your friend anymore. And that really makes me sad, but I just don't feel like you care either way. And that makes me even sadder.

Your Ex-Best Friend Who Has Apparently Already Been Forgotten,

Sarah

(xo Hopeless Romantic)

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Fear of Falling in Love or Being in Love. (Secret #5)}
Monday, May 2, 2011 | 5:26 PM | 3Comment

Also known as Philophobia.

I have a confession, Internet. There's been something weighing heavy on my mind lately.

It used to be something that only came to bother me every once in a while. It would come, and I'd wave it off, and all was well again. But now that I'm starting to get older, it's bothering me a lot more. I've tried to shake it off, but it's like this huge, ominous, encroaching feeling creeping up on me, and I'm starting to think that I can't help it.

I think I'm starting to develop some kind of negative complex with love.

Now, I know what you're thinking (or maybe I don't, but oh well). 'Hopeless Romantic? Having a negative complex with love? YEAH. OKAY.'

That's what I'd think, too. Heck, this whole blog is dedicated to my misadventures with likes and loves and what have you. My freakin' pen name is 'Hopeless Romantic', for crying out loud.

But it's something I've noticed more and more lately. I'll watch a romance movie, and I'll cringe during the sappy parts that are supposed to make me cry (which I never used to do). I can barely stand to listen to love ballads (which I lived for). I can feel myself starting to resent males in general (not good).

And if those weren't indicative enough, here's the doozy: Everytime I start to picture what my first relationship could be like, where I used to think about great things happening, and feeling excited for them, now I think of them and I'm completely repulsed.
I'll think about my possible first kiss, how nervous I could be when it happens, how awful it could be, and I suddenly don't want one. Ever. I don't even want to try.

Or I'll think about bringing my first boyfriend to come meet my family, and I'm horrified. I love my family, don't get me wrong, but suddenly seeing it from that perspective, it seems too scary and embarrassing and I don't even want to think about it.

And then I'll think about how I'll constantly have to worry about little annoying girl things, like keeping my legs shaven, and how I'll have to exfoliate like every freaking day because if he wants to kiss me he'll be close enough to see like every single one of my pores and it sounds RIDICULOUS, I know, but my skin isn't completely clear or perfect and it's one of my biggest insecurities. And having someone that close to me, close enough to see my pores, close enough to see that teeny little hair on my upper lip that I just happened to miss with my tweezers, close enough that they can see the lines in my irises, it freaks me the hell out.

I had a dream last night, and I remember every single moment of it. It's resonated with me the entire day. In the dream, I was out shopping with Best Friend Rose. It was just her and I, and we were downtown somewhere, somewhere with tons of shops and tall buildings and stuff. Maybe a large city. We decided to stop in this larger department store, but then Rose had to go to the bathroom, so she told me to wait while she ran out to the bathroom, somewhere. So I was standing there with my hands full of shopping bags, right? And I'm just gazing around, looking at stuff, when I see this tall blonde guy standing about 15 feet away, just staring at me. Not in a 'woooo who's that hot shawty over thurr' way, more like the 'I'm a serial killer and I just found my next victim' kind of way. Like, he just stares at me blankly. And I start to get nervous, because here is where I finally noticed that I'm suddenly alone in store, all alone, and this psycho is staring at me all creepily.

And then he starts to walk towards me. Apparently BFR is pretty much forgotten at this point (sorry Rosie) and I immediately start to make my way toward the doors. I push them open, walking fast, and after I'm about ten feet away from the store, I hear him push through the doors too. Great. Psycho is following me, and I'm all alone on the sidewalks. Because somehow, despite being in some big city, the streets and sidewalks are basically empty, except for a bunch of parked cars. No witnesses.

I start to walk even faster. And I risk one look over my shoulder to see if I'm losing him. I'm not. In fact, he's only about 15 feet away. And all of a sudden, I come to this realization that he's my ex boyfriend. In dream land he is, I suppose. I distinctly remember him having longish blonde hair, and being very, very attractive. But it didn't discount the fact that he was glaring at me like his eyes were going to pierce through me. So I break into a run, dropping my shopping bags altogether.

"Get away," I yell at him, kind of feebly.

He replies, "I just want to talk," in the way that the killer in a movie says to their victims, 'I'm not going to hurt you,' before they kill them.

I feel like I'm not getting away from him fast enough, and I try to run fast, but I can't. Even while knowing that this is my ex boyfriend, and not a stranger serial rapist killer, I'm still terrified to death of him. It literally feels like I'm running for my life.

Suddenly he says, in an ominous change of tone, "You can't get away from me, Sarah."

I try to run faster again, and can't. It's like I'm running in sand. "Leave me alone," I scream. "Get away from me!"

"You can try to run, but it won't work. I'll find you. I'll always find you." He says calmly. "You belong to me, Sarah. You'll always belong to me."

I scream again, something unintelligible. Suddenly, I spot a Forever 21 with tons of cars parked in front, tons of people inside. I tear toward the door, throw it open, and careen inside. I go straight to the front desk. "I'm being stalked," I say to the girl on the other side. "Is there some place I can hide?"

She immediately points to the employee door at the far end of the store, and I quickly make my way to it. I jump inside, and as I turn around to close the door behind me, I see Crazy Ex-Boyfriend run into the store, searching for me. I shut the door. The employee area is empty and quiet, and when I listen closely, I can hear everything going on inside the store.

It suddenly sounds as if the store has gone empty, and I only hear the Crazy Sauce ask the employees if they saw a girl like me(all the while still calling me his girlfriend. Hah!). All of them knowing, of course, that I was hiding from him, they all play dumb and say no. I swear for a few seconds that I hear his heavy footsteps come closer and closer to the other side of the door, but he never opens it.

Instead, I suddenly hear my mom, my dad, and Rosie come in, all sounding panicked, probably looking for me. As soon as they see Crazy Man, they call him by name in surprise. They ask him if he's seen me (because apparently they don't know about his insane tendencies of stalking?). He answers, faking worry and concern, that he'd been trying to talk to me, but that I kept running away. He tells them that he has no idea where I am, and they all respond worriedly.

For some reason I stay in the small room until I hear that all of them have left the store, and I come out finally. I look around paranoid, and then I look at the employees. "He's gone, right?" I ask to confirm. They nod slowly at me, and they're looking at me strangely, like they think that maybe I just made the whole stalking thing up.

And then suddenly I see Ex-Boyfriend walk past the store windows again, looking like he was still searching around for me. His face is pinched with worry. And then somehow the dream flips perspectives, and I see the dream through his eyes. And I understand everything perfectly, differently.

Now I was the ex-boyfriend, worried like hell for the girl he still loves, the girl who always pushes him away.

When I woke up from that dream, I was extremely unsettled. Not only because it was one heckuva dream, but because that is one of my fears.

I'm scared that someday I will fall in love with someone who loves me back, and I'll lose control. Scared that I'll get too attached too fast, and one day I'll wake up, terrified, realizing what I've gotten myself into, and I'll push them far away from me. I'm scared that they'll use me and crush my soul in their fist. I'm scared that I'll love them, and that they're actually just merely 'interested'. I'm scared that it will be love, true love, amazing love, and then an accident will happen and they'll be taken from me forever.

I think I'm so scared of love because it ends. It always seems to end. Something always happens. Someone cheats, or someone loses interest completely, or someone dies before the other. And the thought of going through that pain scares me so honestly that it makes me want to cry.

I don't want to be one of those people that never does anything because of their fear.
But lately I can honestly say that the thought of any of those happening is enough to make me question if I ever want to go through something like that. It doesn't sound worth it. And I've had no reason to personally believe that it is.

It's funny, because in Middle School, I would have killed to have a boyfriend. It was almost everything to me. But now, after I've gotten older and realized the painful repercussions of love, I cringe whenever I think of having one. I used to be afraid of being alone forever, but now I'm honestly starting to think I might be better off alone.

It sounds ridiculous and melodramatic, but maybe it's the best thing. Jane Austen never got married, and she turned out okay. Great, even. Maybe that's how it will be for me.

I'll see if this passes. Maybe this is just a weird mood I've been in with my stress lately. I suppose we'll see.

xo Hopeless Romantic

(P.S. I finally added comments for each entry and Older Posts Newer Posts links. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out!)

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Secret #4.}
Saturday, January 29, 2011 | 1:45 PM | 0Comment

Something I'm starting to realize about myself is that I have trust issues.

Don't get me wrong, the people I'm closest with, like Best Friend Rose and my parents, I can trust them with my entire life. I know that they will always understand me and be there for me, and there's never a question in my mind that they would. It's just everyone else that I'm weird about.

I've come to realize that I'm one of those people that, if anything, prefers to be alone.

That's not to say that I hate everyone and society and so on. I don't hate leaving the house, I don't hate interacting with people. I just don't mind--and in some specific cases, I prefer--being alone.

I think this is because I'm an only child. I've always been used to the quiet and peaceful side of things, like being alone brings. And when I was a kid, that may have been a huge factor in my being extremely shy. I went to Pre-K in between Preschool and Kindergarten not because I had trouble learning, but because I was so shy.

And I'm definitely not even close as shy as I was before, but sometimes this comes back at the strangest times. Like during testing last year, when I had to go to a local meeting hall to take the tests with all the other online school kids in my area, it was the weirdest thing.

As soon as I showed up that first day, I just shut down. Not 'shut down' like bursting into tears or snapping or anything like that, but I just threw this HUGE wall up. I didn't look at anybody. I didn't smile once (except for at my English teacher) or talk to anybody. I brought my book for break times in-between tests, and during breaks, I went off to a seat in the corner of the room, shoved my book up to my nose and read in the corner by myself.

And I was surprised by my behavior myself, completely surprised, because I've never been that kind of person. Even as a kid, I would still walk up to someone and try to make a new friend. But this was something new entirely. I just folded into myself did everything I could to keep everyone out.

Thankfully, though, by the end of that day, me and this girl named Rene* started talking, by chance, and we hung out for the rest of testing. I still talk to her sometimes, she's cool (and she got kicked out of her last school for beating up the popular girl for teasing her. Not going to lie, I liked her a lot more after she told me that.)

But even in other situations, there are times where I'm near someone new and I'll just sit there, guarded, unfriendly. It's so unlike me, and I don't know where it comes from, but I can't control it.

I guess it's a defense mechanism. I think I'm afraid of being disappointed, so I decide that it would be easier to scare people off than to let them in and let them affect me. It's cowardly and selfish, but I don't know how to fix it.

And during the beginning of sophomore year, when I was still getting used to being in online school, there would be times where I would just be so sad. I'd get up in the morning and do my school work and go through the motions, and I would talk to my parents maybe 2 times the entire day, because I'd just stay in my room and stay inside myself and stare out the window and feel sorry for myself.

Pathetic? Yes. But I didn't know how else to handle it. I was just alone, alone alone, and I didn't know how to deal with it.

On one hand, I'm thankful for it because it took that for me to realize who my true friends were and who were just the people I saw everyday at school.
On the other hand, it took that for me to realize that I really had no life outside of school, and that friends from school were just that, friends from school.

Lately I've been doing much better with this whole trusting people thing, and mostly when I think of instances of stuff like this happening, it was in the past. I think it's gotten better because I'm a lot more secure in myself than I was.

I just have to remember that yes, the world can be scary, and there are bad people in this world, but there are good people too. And even when the good people royally screw up(they're only human after all) and they disappoint you, just get back up and move on. It'll still be okay.

xo Hopeless Romantic

(PS: Resolution #1 isn't going so well so far, but it's only because of unfortunate event after unfortunate event. Last weekend it was catch up work, and this weekend it's because of a nasty cold my dad gave to me (my first cold in two years! Karma caught up to me?) and a cold sore on my lip the size of Mt. Olympus. Writing this in bed as I speak. Gross colds are gross.)

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Letter to Ricky Bobby. (Secret #3.)}
Monday, November 15, 2010 | 7:56 PM | 0Comment

Dear Ricky Bobby,

Hello. Remember me? I'm the chick who's friends with Johnny. You know, the girl who liked you in eighth grade.

The girl you never gave a chance. The girl you'd completely ignore on some occasion, and then worse, on other occasions, talk to and then go and flirt with another girl right in front of her. The girl you'd never even try to get to know. The girl who'd never get a second glance from you. The girl who you'd catch staring at you in eighth grade History class, and you'd give her this smug look, as if to say, 'Just watch. You'll never get over me. Grovel, bitch.'

I don't think you realize just how much I liked you. Just seeing you across the hallway was enough to fry my nerves. It would take an entire class just to summon up the courage to talk to you, and some times, I still couldn't do it. I could hardly look you in the face, it was almost too much for me to bear.
Hell, I didn't like you. I was in love with you.

Unrequited, yes, but none the less, that was it. It happened so fast, and I was so young, but people say that when you love someone, you just know. And I knew.

I loved everything about you. The way you'd suddenly say something so profound, and it would catch me off guard. The sarcastic, thoughtful way you'd respond to some thing someone said, and I'd wonder how someone could be so interesting. The way you could wear a big red Elmo shirt, and not be embarrassed or even abashed. The way you'd sway from foot to foot when you were nervous. Everything.

You were close friends with Best Friend Rose, and I was pretty good friends with Johnny then, but I still felt a million miles away from you.

I was just this awkward, shy, plain girl who you barely knew, a girl with absolute zero chance of ever being a beautiful, tall blond cheerleader like Sissy, who you dated, by the way. (I know you said recently that you didn't go for her type anymore, but that's not really the point. The point is, you dated her, period.)

And when you found out I liked you, nothing changed. I tried my hardest to get to you, without trying to seem desperate, and it was without avail. I was just another admirer to you, and nothing more, even though I opened up to you and made myself completely vulnerable.
And on the day of eighth grade graduation, I suppose you were humoring me. Am I right? The super long hugs, the lingering looks, the smiles. 'Oh, hell, why not? I'm moving away from this place tomorrow, anyway. I'll just humor the poor thing. After all, she did give me a t-shirt.'

Fast forward two and a half years later, and I'm pretty much at the same place.
I thought I'd come far, but wow, was I kidding myself, or what? For two years I've tried and tried again to stop thinking about you, to stop wondering about you, to stop thinking about what could have been, but never was. But I can't.

You're like a mouse trap. You're like nicotine. You're like poison. You're so bad for me, and yet I keep getting lured in. I keep coming back, like a fatal addiction.
Why?

And meanwhile, you have no idea. You have no idea about how much you've ruined me. You go about your life, free as a bird, never being weighed down by your past walking in front of you on two legs.
You experience life free of heartbreak, going from willing girl to willing girl, while I sit aside and watch and die a little more inside.

I've gotten better than before, I'll admit that. I'm coming a little closer to letting you go. But I keep letting myself hope, hope that something could still happen, hope that one day you'll look at me and go, 'Wow. What have I been thinking? It's you. It's always been you.'

But you won't. I know you won't, because my hopes get crushed every time.

Despite all of this, however, I do have one thing to thank you for.
Thank you for being reasonably nice to me. Even though I was way too into you, and you obviously weren't into me, you didn't curse me out or call me names or treat me horribly, like most guys probably would have. There were some days that you blew me off, or pretended like I wasn't there, but at least you weren't cruel about it. So thanks, I guess.

And even though things have been slightly different lately, what with you and me talking and hanging out at two football games, and almost going to have coffee, I know that it all still means nothing to you. I'm just a friend, if that(as of right now, I don't think so), and that's all I'll ever be.

I'm starting to be okay with that now, and I'm not as sad about it anymore. I just hate how much time I've wasted on you.
Most people don't spend this much energy on something unrequited, and heck, some don't even spend this energy over broken requited love. I know that it isn't typical, and it probably isn't normal, either.

Maybe it's because I feel like you were the one person that I felt like I could've really connected with, and now that I know can't/won't ever have you, there'll be no one else that can even come as close as you did.

So.
I know you'll never read this, but if by some off chance that you do, and you know that it's about you and you know who I am, at least now you know.

Despite all I've said about you, I do want you to be happy. I care about your happiness. Please don't ever settle. You may have some issues to work out, hell who doesn't, but you're really something, you know that? You deserve someone who's good to you and loves you and you love back with every inch of your heart. Be happy.

Signed,

Sarah, the girl who loved you, and the girl who's in a long standing, painful journey to get over you.
(xo Hopeless Romantic)

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Secret #2.}
Saturday, October 16, 2010 | 10:27 PM | 0Comment

Internet, you know me.

I'm an Internet nerd, through and through. And pretty much always have been. (I learned how to use the computer when I was 6, and started using the Internet regularly when I was 8. Nickelodeon's message boards were my HAVEN.)

Confession: I used to be a total online boyfriend HARLOT.

The story: Around when I was 10, we got one of those 90-day trial American Online disks in the mail, and my dad actually signed us up for it. I got my own IM username and everything, and I was so excited.
Well. One day, I was in a chat room (I have NO idea how on earth my parents let my ten year old self have an IM account with no supervision. But, if I remember correctly, I don't think the whole chat room danger thing had been too terribly sensationalized yet.), and it was mostly old people trying to hook up.

Then, I spotted a 12 year old boy looking for any 12 year old girls. In my 10 year old mind, I think, 'why not? It's not like he'll even know my real age', and I was bored and didn't know any better. So I messaged him, and I lied and told him I was 12. We messaged back and forth in the chat room, trying to chat over all the desperate single 40+ year olds, and then we moved to private IMs.

Let's call this boy Charcoal (kind of an inside joke.). What started as 'only talking to him sometimes, when I was bored', it turned into 'waking up every morning, looking forward to talking to him' and talking to him all day and every day. Before I knew it, we were in a 'relationship' of sorts, or whatever you'd call something between an online 12 year old and a pretend online 12 year old.
It was one of those ironic playground, kid's play type of things, when we'd say 'I love you' and then talk about our favorite cartoons afterward.
I kept in contact with him for two years, until I actually turned 12, and then we lost contact completely.

After that, I kept wanting to duplicate that feeling that I got with Charcoal, the one that gave me this false sense of security that a boy could like me, though knowing it was all pretend and impossible at the same time.
Sometimes I'd go to random chat rooms and email back and forth with guys for a while, and some I met on other kinds of websites and chatted with them for weeks. In middle school, it even escalated to giving some my number and texting along with the emailing, but it never went beyond that.

Yes, it could've been very dangerous, and yes, people on the Internet can be totally different from who they say they are (see paragraph 5 above), but I was careful, and I never meant to actually meet any of them anyway. I never said 'I love you' to any of them (well, except Charcoal, but you know. Haha). To be honest, I couldn't even name all of my pretend online boyfriends. There was one after Charcoal, and whenever he IMed me, a certain part of a Jay-Z song would play, and whenever I hear that song, I can't help but associate it with him. Can't remember his name, though.
One boy was filipino. One boy was schizophrenic. One was a gamer.

And there was one named James* (three years older than me, my REAL AGE, thankfully), who I met in the eighth grade, and we texted and talked on the phone, and I remember him the most because he was the last one, and when I got involved with him, it didn't feel pretend anymore.
He was the only one who I'd actually stopped and thought about how it would be to meet him. I considered it, even. And then one day I panicked about how real it could become, and I 'ended it'. And that was the end of it all.

So, I've never had a real relationship. I've never really dated anybody. But to fill the holes that I felt, seeing other girls my age starting to date and feeling ugly and unwanted, I played this game of sorts. I did it the way then the way other girls my age make out with random guys now.

Was it awful? Yes. Am I ashamed about it? Absolutely.
I earnestly hope that these boys didn't get hurt because of my little 'game'. The thing was, I just never saw them as actual relationships. It was all pretend to me. I just felt so emotionally disconnected (except with James) that it didn't feel real.
I know Internet dating works for some people, but I just don't think I'm one of them. I'm more of an action person than words. Actions can say so much more, and anyone can say anything without meaning any of it.

The thing about this secret: Sometimes I'm seriously tempted to go back to that.
It would be so easy, so easy, to go back to that old familiar crutch and go to some random Internet guy to cure my super singleness, if just for the moment. But if it means nothing, isn't it just a waste of time and emotions?

I'll wait for my first real boyfriend. And in the mean time, I'll work out whatever this is (or perhaps whatever this isn't?) with Ricky Bobby. Oy.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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Secret #1.}
Tuesday, August 3, 2010 | 9:38 PM | 0Comment

Every once in a blue moon, I feel sad about never dating anybody. I feel hopeless.

I feel the hopelessness because I've never felt a kiss, never stayed up late texting someone until I fell asleep because we couldn't stop talking...I've never even known what it's like to love someone--or at least, like someone a lot--and have them like me back.
Like, truly like me back. For who I am. Sometimes it actually feels like it will always be this way for me.
And it's a horrible hopelessness.

It's the deep, ripping, burning feeling of heartbreak, the kind that makes you feel hollow and bitterly cold.

And when that happens, I feel absolutely certain that nobody really truly gets what it feels like.

But I guess everyone feels that at some point, right?

xo Hopeless Romantic

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