reel in the real talk

I made a little decision about two seconds ago. I probably should have done this when I was still taking Creative Writing. Better late than not at all. I have to write this now or I'll chicken out. This is real talk, and it's for you.

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I probably should have a little more sympathy for alcoholics, but really I just think they're stupid.

But I have sympathy for my brother. And maybe alcohol ruined his life directly, but the indirect stuff was the biggest push off the cliff. I was eight years old and already deciding that I would never let alcohol consume me.

Now I'm nearly nineteen and just barely deciding that I'm never going to let anything ruin me.

I draw the line two steps in front of me. Not a lot of walking room. But that's not for me. I can run for miles if I want to. Two steps is for everyone else. I'll give you a wider space when I feel like you won't abuse that privilege. Too many have done so before.

The ones you love make you cry the hardest. Nothing a stranger said to me would ever break me. Two steps, that's it.

I love superheroes a little too much, and honestly I wish they were real. The same way I wish Link were real so I'd know there was a human being out there that has the courage to face everyone who thought he would amount to nothing.

I can't eat sweet things without a glass of milk. I love dark chocolate, and that makes me wonder if my taste buds have matured faster than I have. Wouldn't that be something.

Not gonna lie, I used to judge people extremely harshly. Especially by first impressions. I'm not like that anymore. Or so I would like to think.

My craziest dream is to one day step foot on the moon, looking up at you all and waving and smiling and feeling my heart beat on something that's not earth. My fondest dream is to get married to someone who'll never make me want to run away. Or maybe they will, but not running for my life in terror kind of run away. Run away with me and forget the city kind of run away.

My secret dream is to be able to sing.

I used to hate my eyes because they were brown. Now I think brown eyes are beautiful. They go splendidly with my red hair too, so that's a plus.

I wear baggy shirts to hide my stomach.

Love whispers to me. I want it to yell so that I can at least know what it's saying. I want it to write my future husband's name across my wrists. I want it to stop terrifying me. I want to love love. And there are so many people that I wish I would have loved but didn't.

I want love to tell me if that was her fault or mine.