He Thought About It (Or Rather Her)

He thought about it. (Pick up the nearest book, turn to page 49 and use the first sentence as a writing prompt.... nearest book was Who Moved My Cheese by Spencer Johnson M.D.)




Her eyes were a keen sort of brown, now that he thought about it, lit with a fire and imagination that he would never fully comprehend. Those eyes had seen much more pain and desolation than they ever ought to have witnessed. But then, they were not hardened to the human plight. This translated through the way she moved, the gentleness of her hands, through her very bearing when confronted by those in pain.
He had never met another woman quite like this Charlotte and she touched a place in his heart that he had thought to be cut out and burned a long time ago. As he gazed out the window at the falling snow he wondered whose hearth she knelt as that night, tending to the fire intermittently while she comforted the household and more importantly the invalid she had come to minister to directly.
It was indeed a marvel that she wasn't oftener sick than the rogue cold that was sometimes the aftermath of being kept awake over too many days in the vigil of the healer. He had never personally called her to his side when he was ill, though he had thought about it from time to time. But her attention was far too much for one such as himself to afford. Not that she charged exorbitant prices for her services (for she actually only asked for sustenance when she was at a particular home for a prolonged amount of time) but he could not afford her. He felt himself unworthy of even the smile she sometimes cast his way when he passed her in the marketplace as she made her tired but no less cheerful way home (though, sometimes it was more melancholy if she had not been able to save whoever she had been asked to tend).
However, she always smiled at him. The dimple in her cheek leaving a sweet indentation pointed to by the corner of her mouth much like the Big Dipper and the North Star. She always greeted him in the same warm manner. "Good day, Charles. I hope your mother is well?" To which he would nod, no words being able to issue forth from his mouth until she passed, out of earshot once again.
The crackle of the fire snapping more sharply than it had all day recalled him to the company he kept. His mother, Ms. Mosgrave, was reading a book Charlotte had recommended to her after having treated her cold a month or so ago. And they were joined that particular evening by Sophia Croft, the woman he was expected to marry. She, with her blue eyes, looked at him expectantly and he remembered with a jolt that she had asked him if he had been feeling well. Had he answered the question already and she had asked another? Or had he lost himself in thinking about how he had been feeling under the weather and started to think about Charlotte instead of answering aloud.
"I... I am sorry, Miss Croft. What was the question?" She laughed and he felt the tension mount in his shoulders. He didn't like it when she laughed--it always felt as though she were enjoying a private joke.
"I asked if you have been well," she prompted, "and then, rather suddenly, you walked to the window and looked out as if the answer was there and not actually within your own self."
He nodded almost absently before nodding firmly. Sophia needn't know he was unwell for she would surely insist upon staying until he was quite well.
"I am well," he finally answered to which her eyes narrowed the smallest degree but her smile remained the same. "And how are you, Miss Croft?"
"Won't you call me Sophia? You have been courting me after all for the past year," she said, a tightening at the corners of her eyes gave away her consternation at the fact that he still refused to address her informally as would befit one in love. But he was not in love, regardless of how everyone else felt about the match.
Now if it had been Charlotte...
Charlotte called everyone in the town by their first name and only those who were jealous of her freedom scorned her for the informality of her very person. But then again, she had helped in the birth of the vast majority of the town and though she didn't look it, she was older than the vast majority as well. Token of her being a witch and longer lived than the normal folk.
Indeed, she had assisted in the delivery of himself from Ms. Mosgrave, before his father died away on a journey he should not have taken in the first place and had been warned away from by Charlotte herself.
But though she was older than he, Charles had no qualms in loving her just the same as if she was younger than he as her appearance suggested.
"Charles?" Sophia prompted, the agitation more prominent in her features as he looked over at her and saw his mother pause in her reading and look at him with a spark of amusement in her weathered features. She had told him that the day would come when Sophia would stop putting up patiently with his tendency to start thinking about topics unknown. Aside from that, Ms. Mosgrave had confronted him a number of times and though he never admitted to her being spot on, she had surmised just what or rather WHO he thought of in the times when he was suddenly absent from the conversation.

Of Past Trips and Conversations--Application

After almost a full year, I finally went home this past week. 
I went as a surprise for my younger sister who was graduating on Saturday and though there were a few close calls, my cover was not blown in the end and it was all a grand success. It was wonderful not just because I got to help celebrate such an occasion, but my older brother was also there (though he was initially there for business and would continue on at home a little longer after I left). 
My brother and I are just like any other pair of siblings--getting on each others' nerves, knowing what buttons to push to elicit the most extreme reactions, etc. But I am grateful to know that at the end of the day, we love one another and that is what truly matters. We are certainly still ironing out the ways of stepping around those words that will make us fight but love is the base. 
One of my evenings there, we sat up talking and once my parents were in bed, he switched the topic to what he must have been planning for a while up until that point to speak to me about. 
As with every young adult, I am trying to find my way in this world but the more I go in the direction that I think will lead me to the end all be all of happiness the more I feel that I am simply banging my head against the wall. 
It irritates me to look back at high school and see how much I achieved and how easy it seemed at the time. And now, school, college, is the biggest struggle I have but even when I succeed little by little, it brings no real sense of peace... rather a grim sense of accomplishment that I am that much closer to the milestone I believe everyone expects me to achieve. 
I don't know about you, but I despise myself for living this way and yet it is the path directly in front of me so why shouldn't I traverse it?
My brother combated this idea with another: not why not traverse it but WHY? Stop thinking of the reasons I should not choose something different and think of WHY I am so bullheaded in my pursuit of this path if it brings no satisfaction into my heart.
Forget everyone else and their expectations and urgings and turn inward, just this once.
He asked me why I, as Cassidy, am trying to follow this path and behind those words I felt the current whether he meant to put it there or not of why am I trying to follow this path when it is obviously not working and merely causing a hiccup-like progression in my life?

After thinking about it, I finally came up with an answer that might not be all encompassing but is at least a start. It is because I have been brought up and taught that we must seek learning, be an educated people. The scripture that comes to mind can be found in the Doctrine and Covenants from the scriptures I as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints read--section 88:118:

 "...yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith."

This bit has always intrigued me but I wasn't ever sure what it meant. What I am starting to realize is it means exactly what it says; "seek" learning and knowledge by your study and faith. This encourages the idea in my mind that as long as I am continually learning and growing in wisdom and knowledge and leaning to the Lord's understanding when I fall short, then who says it has to be within the strict institution of a college campus?

Just a note here, I am not bagging on college or any other sort of "higher institution" and I especially believe in the words of my mother when she told me that I should attend high school as if I were to go to college, because at least then, if my attempt to move on with life without college should fail, I will have taken the classes and tests needed to recommend me to those who have the charge to admit students into the school.

A lot of unnecessary grief has been laced in my relationship with my parents over the issue of my living alone and supporting myself. But we have talked about it and over time, I believe we have come to a sort of balance that will only increase in sturdiness over time. 


(I am continuing this post after about a year and a half.)

I am not currently taking classes at the Y. Rather, I am solely working at the Covey Center and working on becoming truly solid in my independence. As I have written a couple times, I discovered my depression and I wonder if that isn't another reason why the whole institution wasn't working out or even if it added to my reasons to suffer. 
Regardless, I am here. Working and coming up on my one year mark at the Covey. I am slowly coming to the realization that I need to work more on my spirituality and growth in my testimony than in anything else that I could possibly pursue at this time. 
So that is what I am doing. I am reading the Book of Mormon, again, along with some manuals that are intended to prepare me for future covenants with the Lord, whether I face the covenants alone or with the man that the Lord has prepared for me.
So. I'm working on me. Becoming the woman the Lord intended me to be. College has been put on hold. Testimony is being kicked into gear. I am on my way to healing the hurts of the past 4 years and doing my best. 

Wish me luck!

Angels

So, I have had a couple conversations lately that have been weighing on my mind and there has been a topic that keeps coming up. I keep being told to pray and the Lord will help me or I've been informed that others I know have been praying and asking the Lord for help and so they believe that is where help will come from.
But did you ever stop to consider that I have prayed? Desperately asking for help, for a friend, for compassion, for understanding? Is that not what you have prayed for as well? For help? A friend? Compassion? Understanding?
I am not saying that you shouldn't pray, or that prayer doesn't work (my life and the lives of those around me are testament enough that there is a Christ, a loving God who looks out for us on a daily basis) but what if you're missing the answers?
Remember the story we have been told multiple times over about the man sitting on his rooftop in the midst of a terrible flood? He prayed and prayed for the Lord to save him, to help him. He is then visited by people on a raft, in a boat and lastly at the time of greatest peril a helicopter and they are there to give him a hand to lift him to safety. But he turns them all away saying that, with the greatest of his faith, that the Lord will save him.
I am a firm believer in the idea that the Lord is in the details of our lives. The people with whom we cross paths aren't there merely by coincidence but because we learn from each person who touches our lives for good (or ill, as the case may be). But how many times must we be told that the Lord will send angels to aid us? To save us? To buoy up our spirits? How many times has a person come into your life when you needed it most and you shook your head saying, "The Lord alone must save me." What if He sent that very person? What if He sent you the raft? The boat? The helicopter? What if you are turning away His help because it isn't as obvious as you expected it to be?
Isn't it said that God works in mysterious ways? That He sends angels to do His will when He cannot be immediately by our side?
I am not saying that I am not guilty of turning away the raft, or even the helicopter. Perhaps I have done it more than I will ever be able to count.




So, sadly, I am at work and in between the above and now the fire has been taken out of me... it's been a rather stressful day.
In short, don't turn away something instantly because it seems too beautiful to be true or you don't feel deserving of it. The Lord wouldn't put it there if He didn't mean for you to at least try to incorporate it into your life.
I love you, my friends, please allow me to help you when I offer. It helps me to turn my thoughts outward. If you don't want it, please be considerate of the fact that it may have taken me a lot of courage to offer in the first place. Sorry.

Let's Be Honest

Just to start us off.... I may as well just own up to what this blog really, truly is and that is in fact that it is a dating blog--my take on dating, my opinions on it, and my scrutiny and commentary on my experiences with the dratted thing. 

Ah. Now that that is out of the way, onward.

This evening, as I was brushing out and braiding a wig I purchased the other day from WalMart (still unsure if it will actually be used in this year's Halloween costume) I was having one of my imaginary conversations. The topic being why I never want to hear the words "you look amazing/beautiful/pretty/cute (insert word of choice)" from the men that break my heart because, let's face it, it is really painful to be told you are "everything I could want" and then be rejected for the exact same reasons (apparently, it is possible). However, as I was getting all my feeling on the subject out into the void I came to a realization, an epiphany if you will, as to why it hasn't worked with the guys who, at the end of the day, DO want me and have made their stance perfectly clear on the idea that I am the one they want to wake up to for the rest of their lives.

Basically, I came to the realization that the reason it hasn't worked with them is because they want to possess me. Wait, what? Don't you mean they want to be in a relationship with you? No. Possess. And this is what I mean--I am okay with someone expressing jealousy over my spending time with others but when it happens after any portion of time I spend with others? And furthermore when it is followed up with, "I know I can't control what you do BECAUSE (emphasis added) we're not officially together..." Wait. Hold up. 

What makes these people think they will be able to dictate who I can and cannot spend time with once we're dating? Why do they feel the need to "control" me? I grant that every one is entitled to their opinion of others and they are more than welcome to express concern over how much time I spend with my friends (especially, I suppose, those of the opposite sex) but I fully intend to make time for my friends pre-relationship if they in turn are willing to make time for me. 

I think that is one of the reasons I end up falling for the people I do because they constantly encourage me (maybe a little too much at times) to spend time with my other friends. Why? Because, as much as they like to spend time with me and have my undivided attention, they realize they shouldn't be the center of my life and world. 

I have a feeling some persons out there will call me a liar but the idea of giving up my independence terrifies me. The idea that I won't be able to make plans without checking everything with my significant other makes me at least a little sick. Sure, there are times (sometimes a full week or so at a time) where they are the only person I really care to be around (being an introvert at heart, I believe, does that to a person) but that won't always be the case. There are a few select men in my life that I fully intend to continue healthy friendships with after the whole marriage shenanigan and you better believe I don't aim to marry someone who cannot be mature enough to share my time with them without going into a jealous, huffy-and-puffy, pouting, rage. 

Yes. I want someone to want me one day. Someone who will want my attention as often as I can give it. But I also want someone who will set me free from this idea that I will be theirs to "control" and possess once I "finally" submit myself to being their girlfriend and finally wife. 

I am sorry... but I am not sorry that I do not want you to put me on a pedestal out of reach of everyone I have every enjoyed spending time with, giving care to, and generally being in relationships with. I am not Rapunzel and heaven forbid you go all Mother Gothel on me. Because, let's face it, that's just creepy... plus, I really don't have a lot of hair to begin with. ;)

Another Writing Exercise

"Write about the one thing you never expected him to say." Ah Pinterest, what fun we'll have. Ha.

We walked away from the music and dancing to a quiet spot, neither of us saying a word. I couldn't say what was going on in his head, which box he was thinking in, but my mind was going a mile a minute. Was I walking too close to him? Too far away? Why did my stomach have to spin in somersaults? Should I speak first or wait quietly until he spoke? Was it colder out here than it had been all summer? Did I have enough milk in the fridge to get through the weekend?
He came to what I perceived as an abrupt stop although once I resurfaced from my increasingly sporadic thoughts I saw it made sense to stop seeing as we had crossed the street and any further would put us in the dark of the trees. But my mind flicked to the next series of thoughts--did he mean for us to sit on the bench? How close was too close? How far was too far? How? What? Where? When? Why?
I sat in a jerky motion down on the bench sitting neither in the center of the bench nor on either extreme end. Let him decide what to do or how close to sit. He sat at the extreme end and my heart plummeted into my stomach. Should I move further away? Should I...?
"Amelia." He spoke softly but it sounded loud and he easily had all of my attention... or at least all except the niggling thoughts that kept my heart from rising to its rightful position. "How was your day?" I blinked and quickly looked down at my hands when his gray eyes lifted to look at me directly.
What did he mean? How was my day? How else could my day have gone while I was hoping and simultaneously dreading the moment we were in right then? My day had been horrible, dragging, and I still had the residual headache of having to focus on my work at the office while still running through "what if" scenarios in my mind!
"It was fine, I guess," I answered a beat late. I could feel his gaze on my face, the narrowing of his eyes as his eyebrows drew down in his usual concern when he knew I wasn't telling him the truth. He didn't push it, however--had I wanted him to?-- and gave a soft, "Oh, that's good."
The silence reigned uncomfortably again. I shifted and he stayed aggravatingly still. Wasn't he the least bit nervous about this conversation?
"How was your day, Ewan?" I inquired stiltedly. I had made the mistake of looking at him and when he looked back (was that relief in his eyes?) I was stuck. His eyes were bluer than the usual cool gray.
"Busy, as usual. A little stressful but what else is new?" he asked rhetorically. I slowly nodded wishing to look away but not wanting to miss seeing his face even though I had just seen it a few days before. His smile faded and he let his gaze turn up to the sky and I sighed softly being released from the spell. I worried at my lip. Why was talking so hard? I knew what needed to be asked... he knew what needed to be said... couldn't we just be over this already?
We both started to speak at once and chuckled in embarrassment. "You first," he offered and I nodded though I stayed silent for another minute or two that felt like an eternity.
"What are we?" I finally managed to ask not strong enough to look at him so I considered my shoes pushing at the cement. I knew what he was going to say already... he'd said as much in the text he'd sent a few weeks prior but, glutton for punishment that I am, I had to hear him say it aloud. I needed him to tell me we were "friends" and see it in his eyes... see that all the admiration and near-adoration he had once regarded me with was gone. I needed to see that he was resolved and that I had no place in his world except for as his friend or, more painfully still, his pseudo-sister.
When he didn't respond, I finally peeled my gaze from the ground to look at him and the sight squeezed painfully at my heart that had somehow found its way back to my rib-cage. How long had that look been trained on me?
I loved him. I still loved him. His eyes, his nose, his expressive mouth... I even loved his ears. I'm sure my expression was pitiable as I stood up from the bench and paced a few steps away. I had to or else give way to the instinctual action to kiss him. I stopped under an oak, picking at its bark as I cast a cautious look over my shoulder. Ewan continued to look at the air I had just vacated, his brow furrowed as he thought of the best words to express himself... as he always did.
"Please, Ewan..." My voice came out softer than I had intended as if afraid to call attention to myself again. After a moment, he looked up at me and I took a tentative step toward him before faltering and wrapping my arms around myself. It was definitely colder.
"I just need to hear it from you, Ewan." He opened his mouth to speak but closed it as he looked down and I shook my arms out in frustration before pulling them through my hair. When he still wasn't forthcoming with the words I knew he was going to say I turned to look at him. My body warred with me. Every fiber of my being wanted to reach out and tell him that he didn't need to say it. That I understood. That it was fine. That I would be fine. But I was determined to let my brain win this war.
"Repeat after me, then, if nothing else, Ewan," I barely managed to contain all the waspishness that had been building over the past weeks but my tone must have still woke him up to my nearing breakdown. "I just want to be friends. Nothing more. Now your turn," I urged, my gaze imploring him to say it and be done with it.
His face crumpled into a defeated expression before he shook his head and stood up, a tentative smile upon his lips. To my horror, he took the last few steps to close the space between us. I jerked back but not quickly enough before his hands grasped my upper arms, firmly but not painfully.
"I can't." The words were simple but I still returned them with, "What?"
"I can't repeat those words to you, Amelia," he clarified, the smile becoming softer in its more pronounced state.
I couldn't speak, my head shaking in negative as I tried to step away but he followed my step allowing his hands to take my face gently so he was sure I was looking at him. "Let me try again," he said with a soft laugh--self-deprecating perhaps? "I can't because it would be a lie...not just to you but to myself." My face crumpled and I tried to pull away, to hide my face but the tears were already slipping from the corners of my eyes and he held my face steadily. "Don't hide from me, silly girl," he spoke tenderly as I pulled weakly at his hands.
"Why are you doing this?" I cried, not able to comprehend what he had said as holding any truth. My hands curled into the front of his shirt, my brain telling me to push him away, punch him, slap him--DO SOMETHING to make him let go! But the rest of me? He heard the rest of me as he pulled me in, holding my head against his chest.
"Because I am selfish, remember?"
The words caused me to hiccup a laugh in the midst of the tears and I felt his smile through my hair as he kissed it.
"I thought that it would be easy if I just stayed away... but not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about you, Amelia. Believe me. I don't even want to say I could forget you. I just hope you can one day forgive me." My head was spinning and not just from being so close to him that I forgot to breathe as I always. "However," he said after a while of silence in which I sniffled unattractively. I pulled back at his "however" and prepared for the worst. What a horrid word.... "however"...
My opinion of it must have showed on my face because he laughed with his eyebrow quirked up and his lips pursing to the side before he spoke. "However, I still don't think we should dive straight into a relationship... but we will have our time together...once each week at least," and when I started to shake my head, he grabbed my chin firmly and looked at me seriously, "or else you can punch me."
I rolled my eyes at him causing him to laugh as I realized just how close he was and I could feel his laughing breath fan my face. I pursed my lips and pulled slightly back feeling my resolve crumbling. Heaven knew I wasn't going to allow myself to kiss him first but then, after a slight hesitation from him during which he looked at my wary gaze, I didn't have to for he brushed his lips against mine and he might as well have sucker punched me. My breath whooshed from my lungs and for a moment the past weeks didn't matter.
Too soon, as always, he stepped away from me not before pushing my hair away from my face and caressing my cheek as though to assure himself that I was still there.
"Should we go back?" he asked with his pursed lips that hid the smug smile I had always berated him for. I rolled my eyes again and kissing him lightly on the cheek, I danced away and toward the music once more with a look of challenge thrown over my shoulder. He shook his head but followed catching up to place an arm about my waist as we walked back together.

Rain

Her heart was racing as she continued down the darkened streets, her feet splashing the puddles that were growing larger by the minute. The lights had gone out not twenty minutes before and the only light to lead her was the intermittent strikes of lightning and the flicker of candles in the windows she passed. 

The phone call she had received before all the power went out had ripped her from her house without thought of shoes or coat and the storm had plastered her hair to her neck and face as she tried to shake the water from her eyes. How much of the water was tears? How much of it was rain? She couldn't tell.

Her toes had gone numb from the cold of this wintry rain. A brief memory lit her mind's eye of the day she had met him in a storm much like this--only it had been summer and they had danced...

She made out the sign of Drury Park with the help of yet another flash of lightning, the roll of the thunder vibrating from her toes to prickle along her spine. 

Nearly breathless she finally called his name. "James!" She shivered violently--cold? Adrenaline? Fear? There was no answer as she strained her vision, frantically looking over every piece of the park that she could make out as she happened upon it. Her calls pitched higher, more frantic with every disappointment. 

Lightning. A crumpled heap burned on her vision under a tree... the oak tree. 

"James..." his name whispered across her lips as she stood frozen for but a moment before making her way toward him, tripping over her numb feet and the edge of the sidewalk. Her feet sunk into the puddles in the saturated grass as she struggled up the small incline to finally drop to her knees beside him. She hesitated before reaching over and pulling him upright with his back against the oak.The lightning that lit his face reveal a long gash on the left side of his face, the blood trailing beneath the collar of his shirt. 

"James," she said softly caressing his face just past the gash.

His eyes fluttered open to look at her, a smile tugging at the right corner of his mouth. "Hey there, beautiful. I wondered when you would come along," he said, his voice husky with cold and strain. She gave a short, bitter laugh at his saying the same opening line as their first meeting in Drury Park.

She shook her head as she opened his coat enough to see the dark crimson spreading over the white of his shirt. She sniffed pathetically before looking back up at him, the lightning lighting his face for her to see. He watched her, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he reached up to stroke her face. "Don't look at me like that," he said softly and she felt her throat constrict around the accusations she wanted to throw. Why did he have to come to this park? Why hadn't he run like she asked him to? Why...why was he dying?

Instead she pushed her hair away from her face and half stood, trying to bring him up with her. "We need to get you to a doctor, James. Before it's..." she began but he pulled her back down with whatever strength he had left to him.

"Too late," he finished. "Besides," he murmured, "if I were to live, then you would still be a prisoner."

"No! I've made up my mind. We can escape together. I won't allow him to use me a day more... I--" she said stroking his face, willing him to see that she was stronger than when they had first met. But he was shaking his head and caught one of her hands in his. It was at this point that she realized he could no longer move his left arm. 

"Mary," he said. Just her name. Nothing more until she took a deep breath and looked at him--not to continue her train of thought but to listen to him. "I would not wish to free you from one man to have you become my prisoner." She shook her head wanting to tell him that she did not understand. "You'll understand one day... your freedom has been paid for... now, learn what it is... to be free." 

"But..."

"Mary," he whispered once more, and she looked at him, her heart squeezing painfully as another fork of lightning lit the park and his face. His beautiful, perfect face. She had fallen for the angel while in the hands of the devil. 

Mary kissed him almost before the thought permeated her mind. His lips were warm even as he lay dying, a testament to who he really was. Her own personal sun, she had thought at one time, but now a dying star. His arm wrapped about her waist for the last time as he kissed her softly, briefly, before allowing his head to rest on her chest. She shifted slightly so she could hold him in her arms one last time. 

They stayed like that for a time, Mary's breathing almost steady aside from the sniffs triggered by the tears that continued to slip with the raindrops down her cheeks onto his head, James' breathing getting shorter. His head shifted slightly and she looked down at the crown of his head.

"The beat of your heart...." he said, his words quieter now so she had to tilt her head further to catch them. "It matches the rain..." She let out a slightly strangled laugh, trying for light.

"Is that so?" Mary said just a soft. 

He hummed in a tired acknowledgment before whispering, "I find peace in the rain..." 

She hugged him more tightly at that before the silence returned.

It was broken only by the roll of thunder, although even that was drifting away with the eye of the storm. The rain however didn't give any sign of relenting. On instinct Mary kissed the top of James' head. 

"I love you, James..." she murmured. She felt him release a sigh and he stilled and the rain let up...misted...then stopped.

Writing prompts from pinterest are fantastic things aren't they?

What Hurts the Most

So firstly, I just want to say how much I love my little sister, Mikkaila, who is on her mission for the church. I did the math, and in two weeks she will be 1/3 of the way done with her mission (not that I will tell her that because if she wants to know she'll probably have it figured out already). I love how she takes what I write to her every week and responds just the way I need her to. Sometimes I wonder if she knows something I don't (which is entirely possible) but whatever it is, I'll let her keep it to herself until she gets back.

So it has been kind of great lately in the fact that although I haven't been getting tons of sleep, I am definitely getting back to myself. This is evident in the fact that it takes very little to make me smile or feel genuinely happy (i.e. a butterfly crossing my path or a sudden downpour of rain). However with this realization comes the realization that what I have been feeling has been a lot closer to true feeling than it has in the past year. For example, when I am brought to tears it is because I truly feel it deserves to be cried over and not simply because I spilled a little milk on the counter. Likewise, when I appreciate someone it is because I feel they truly deserve a place in my life rather than, "oh, he gave me attention! Let me lavish my attention on him!" No. If I am texting you, wanting to spend time with you... it's because I want you in my life, believe it or not.

I have been told by people in the past that they were purposefully avoiding me--which translated into their ignoring me--saying that it was for my good.

Now, I am pretty sure I have said it before, but I'll say it again. I don't respond well to being ignored. There are three levels of hurt in the texting world and I list them in order of how badly they hurt from least to greatest (not to be confused with greatest to least).

1. Words--whether they be on purpose or if what you're trying to say just doesn't translate into written form very well (seeing as one is denied the opportunity to see your expression or hear the inflection of your words). They can cause hurt, yes, but you are still communicating to an extent.
2. Confirmation--also known as the words that you eventually send to explain why you haven't been responding. I don't mean when you say that you were with friends/family/doctors/class--but when you say that you would rather carry a certain conversation on in person so as to avoid hurt number one. But most of the suspicions for the reason you have been ignoring me have been confirmed and, though it hurts, at least I know what is going on in your mind... more or less.
3. The Act of Ignoring--I am anxiety girl... able to jump to the worst possible conclusion in a single bound. I am also very apt at assuming that I have said something/done something horribly wrong in your eyes and that I, in fact, deserve to be ignored or you have something to tell me that is going to break my heart, etc, etc, etc.

Does this make sense? I know I am overzealous and have way more affection and love to give than some people neither expect or are used to or, perhaps, even want. It's a curse really.

I was brought up in a home where I was loved and knew it. Always. I never had to doubt. My younger brother was the type to insist upon goodnight kisses and hugs every day and it sort of rubbed off on me. And now every time I go home, me and my younger sister are quite cuddly. So I guess what I'm saying is it comes with the package.

I am an overzealous, detail-oriented, cuddle bug with more affection than I know what to do with. I think everyone deserves to be loved. If you are important to me, I will remember details about you, dates that are important to you. You will feel important.

Is there anything I have missed?

(This occurred to me the other day and I finally had a moment to write it up... it's something that has been on my mind for a few months now. XD)