helluhyearzold!

    i used to think about you every second of everyday. it sucked because i knew every minute you were on my mind, some other girl was on yours. the time i spent with you was basically the happiest i can remember being, even if i didn’t seem like i had fun. i hate what you think of me. i hate that we don’t have special inside jokes. the things you tell me and ask me and make me laugh about, are the same things that you talk about with every other girl. maybe I’m too jealous, but every girl just wants to feel special. it sucks so bad that you barely remember me. i know that when i walk by you, you take it as nothing. but when i walk by you, it basically brightens up my day times a million. every time you touch me i swear i wish i could just freeze that moment. i love the memories i have. but i bet you don’t remember half of them. i remember all of it. just thinking of you makes me smile. your the person who can give me eternal butterflies. but sadly they are starting to go away. because its been so long since i’ve actually had a conversation with you. i miss you so much. i know if you called me i would basically melt, and you would be on my mind all the time, again. and i just don’t know what to do anymore. should i avoid you so that i can get through the day without getting distracted? or should i just give in, and go after you like never before. its hard to open up and not be shy, but i could go for it. i know its the best feeling in the world but is it really worth feeling rejected and like you don’t even care. because i know i cant count on you towards anything. and i cant even talk to you. i stare at my computer all day wanting you to come online so badly. and every time my phone goes off, i always wish it would be you, but it never is.
    if only you knew, but then again that would just ruin everything that we've ever had. but even THAT'S not much. how much do i really even know about you? and vice versa? we're so close yet so far away. i just wish it could be different. would it really be that "weird" for you if you knew? it's not like that information would affect anything, unless you wanted it to. i don't wanna give you TOO much power but it'd be up to you whether or not you would want to do anything with what i told you. what i'm telling you. you'll never see this, you'll never know. maybe things should just stay that way. this really puts a strain on our friendship. i need to stop doing this, falling for every guy best friend i've ever had. how pathetic. this will just be another suppressed emotion. after all, it's for the best, right..?

I HATE PEOPLE

I always talk about how much I hate people, and whoever I am talking to never really understands.  They either say "WHY?!" or "you're a person too" or something equally ignorant.  I can't really explain my hatred for people but I suppose I can try.

First off, I am really shy.  I can only truly be myself when I'm around people I am completely comfortable with, namely, the swim team.  I don't like to talk to people, I don't really like to interact with people, and I don't work well in big groups. Actually, let me rephrase/elaborate on that.  I don't do well talking to new people/strangers/people of authority.  I don't like to ask for help from anyone either (I don't really know if that applies to me not liking people).  I feel extremely uncomfortable when strangers try to talk to me on the bus or in some other public place. i feel uncomfortable around strangers in general.  I hate when my parents try to make me have dinner with their friends, and when I say "I don't like strangers" they say "Oh you've met them when you were really young".  like COMO MUTHAFUCKIN QUE THAT MEANS I STILL DON'T KNOW THEM!  It's not like I'd remember them at all.  I also don't like to call people for Leadership class.  I'm the class secretary so I guess my job is to call companies and ask for donations? I hate it, mostly because I have to be fakely nice when more times than not, the person on the other end is being extremely rude, which brings me to my next point.

I think another reason why I hate people is because in every single person I've encountered in my life, I find at least one thing annoying about them that just extremely bothers me.  Maybe this means I'm over analytic about everyone.  But I definitely know it makes me the biggest hypocrite in the world.  I, of all people, should know that nobody is perfect.  I don't even know why I "expect" anyone to be.  This doesn't mean I don't love my friends any less though.  I have decided that my opinions on everyone can be gauged on my "hate-dar".  This is my scale of how much I hate everyone.  I have come to the conclusion that not only do I hate people in general, but I also hate everyone individually.  Some people just have lower hate levels on my hate-dar than others.

The last justification I have for my hate for people is crowds.  I hate crowds/groups of people, because they are always in my way.  This happens everywhere - at the mall, at concerts, at swim meets.  But the place I hate it the most is at school. This year, it seems like there are freshmen EVERYWHERE.  I just want to shoot them.  Yes, we were freshmen just last year, but the point is that we're done being the class that everyone hates and now the current freshmen need to be hated.  I will me more than happy to provide most of that hate (:

catherine.

When I was younger, I was always close with my favorite cousin, Catherine. Even though she was ten years older than me, she always had a way of understanding me. She was the sister I never had. As we both got older, we drifted apart and before I knew it, she was off to college. Even though we were over 400 miles apart, I hadn’t forgot about her. I sent Catherine letters and cards for her birthday. When she and her brother Stephen came to visit during holidays, I tried to spend as much time as possible with her. Sometimes she couldn’t make it, and sometimes she brought her boyfriend Cole up with her, too. After she graduated, Catherine decided to stay in southern California with Cole.

My other cousin, Katrina, who is seven years older than me, told my brother and I in confidence that Catherine was back in the Bay Area. This struck us as very odd, especially when she told us why: Catherine was in jail for a night because she beat up Cole. Katrina then proceeded to tell us that Catherine was also in a mental institution for some time. This was really a blow for me because Catherine always seemed like such a stable and sure girl. This was the first shift in my paradigm, making me reevaluate the people in my life, wondering if there could be something wrong with their minds as well. Even scarier, what if this could happen to me?

When we had family gatherings, things with Catherine would always be awkward, and I hated it. I knew she was trying her best to reconnect with all of us, but it had been so long since we had last hung out with her. She started to come over to my house every week with her mother (my aunt) when she came to visit. Sometimes we watched movies, but she couldn’t sit with us because of her medications. She mostly slept or played with my dog while my brother and I minded our own business. She was a lot quieter, and never smiled for pictures anymore. I felt like I was losing her to her sickness.

One weekend, I was at a swim meet with my mother. After I was done swimming for the day, and we were about to get into the car, she turned to me and told me that somebody in our family had passed. I immediately thought of my elderly grandparents and how one could not possibly live without the other. But when I tentatively asked her who it was, she said it was Catherine (as she choked back tears). My immediate reaction was complete and utter shock. This wasn’t possible. My 24-year-old cousin could not have possibly died. When I asked my mother how she died, she told me that Catherine was home alone and had a seizure in the bathroom the day before. My aunt found her when she came home from work. That’s when I started to cry, because I imagined my aunt coming home to find her only daughter dead on the cold, hard bathroom floor, when she planned on staying home to take care of her. I could feel her regret and her pain, and it was overwhelming. My mother said she didn’t tell me the night before because she thought I was too young to handle it, but my father convinced her otherwise. I told her that I could handle it, but everything was still kind of hazy. I felt like I was in a dream. Was this really happening? I had never had a member of my family die before. Then I thought about how I didn’t even put in the effort to talk much with her in her final days. That really made me hate myself. I felt like an insensitive jerk for not supporting my favorite cousin when she really needed it. When I got home that day, I felt as if I was the last one to know about Catherine’s passing. I was so devastated that I had no sense of self anymore. I couldn’t even think straight. How could this have happened to such a good person? The next few weeks were all so hard for me and my family.

Several weeks after Catherine’s passing came her memorial service. I’d have to say that this was the hardest thing to get through in my life. When I walked in, I saw my aunt broken down in tears with my grandparents. I just couldn’t take it; I didn’t stop crying from then until I walked out of the church. When everyone was reading about their favorite memories of Catherine, I felt as if it was finally becoming real: Catherine was dead. She was never going to come back, and I was never going to be able to spend time with her ever again. When my grandma spoke, it was absolutely overwhelming. She had lost her first grandchild, and my aunt had lost her first child. It was terrible, but I could only empathize with them to a certain extent since I had never had any children. Finally, when her brother Stephen went up to speak, I lost control. I pictured myself losing my only sibling (my brother), and it was the worst. I put himself in his shoes and it was completely unbearable because for him, it was the loss of a sibling rather than the loss of a child (for my aunt). When we all went up to the open casket to say our last goodbyes to Catherine before she was cremated, I broke down once again. Seeing her lie there, so at peace, but so utterly dead, will forever be etched in my mind. Somehow, my whole family composed ourselves when we came out of the service, and I am so proud to know that I have such a strong family.

It wasn’t until the memorial service that I learned what mental illnesses Catherine had. She was diagnosed with depression and bipolar disorder. This surprised me because it never showed in her actions when I saw her. She always seemed fine, just a bit quiet. I was so shaken by all of this, but I think I was still in too much shock to wrap my head around it. It has been almost 6 months since Catherine’s passing, but I feel like I have only just begun to feel how it has changed me. Writing this paper has made me realize that her passing has made me appreciate life and my loved ones more, because you never know how much more time you have on this earth. Tragically, Catherine only lived 24 years of her life. It has also rekindled my interest in psychology and the study of mental illnesses, which is a little less profound than having appreciation for the little time we have left to be alive. I think that these lessons have always been in the back of mind, but writing this has brought them to the surface.