I got to thinking about doing things alone. You know, going to the grocery store, parallel parking, seeing a movie in theatres, going out for dinner. We never seem to realize how different things are alone. What fun is it to go to the grocery store without a friend? But we must adapt. We must come to understand that we can’t always have a companion for life’s everyday tasks. While that’s ideal, it’s far from reality. It’s just the adjustment period of becoming an adult. Not the kind of adult who turns eighteen in high school and now has voting rights. This is the kind of adult who lives his or her own life. And that’s the scariest thing of all.

If you were here beside me

I got to thinking about… if you were here beside me. I would tell you that I’ve missed you; I would tell you that every stupid fight we’ve had doesn’t matter. We are invincible. The long nights without your soothing voice, well, it’s driving me mad. I miss it all. I miss seeing your handsome, perfect face. And I don’t expect this sadness to subside without a fight. I’ve come to realize that I’m simply lost without you. I don’t need you; I want you. I want you to be near me. Always. The decision you made as a teenager changed my life; we got to be near each other. Always. In the words of Gary Lightbody: “the curve of you was curved on me.” Forever and always.

A letter to the lonely

I got to thinking about loneliness. How do we fathom life without company? How do we get through the day without having a meaningful conversation with those we love? How can we shake this lonely feeling? I’m not sure there’s a way to get rid of loneliness. I believe loneliness cannot be cured; however, it can be altered. We can alter the way we feel. We can fill the gaps of time with things we love: reading, writing, watching television, exercising. Though we cannot cure our loneliness, we can make sure to fill our time wisely, to not dwell on those things we cannot have in that moment. For time will give us what we want. We must be patient with our loneliness, and realize that it will slowly subside.

To take for granted?

I got to thinking about taking people for granted. Why do we do this? Do we think we can get someone better, even though the best people for us are right in front of our eyes? Why are we so bold and disrespectful? I think that sometimes we take people we love for granted because we know they’ll always be there for us. But will they? They could walk away at any moment, and for good reason, if we push them away so much. Taking the ones we love for granted doesn’t make things better, it doesn’t get us what we want. We are just too blind to see that sometimes the best people for us are standing by our sides. These are the people who won’t run away; these are the people to keep. Don’t take them for granted, not even for a second.


I got to thinking about nerves. There’s really nothing we can do about nerves, except for taking a deep breath, letting ourselves know that it’ll all be okay. Nerves sneak up on us and take over moments we cannot control, nor ever get back. But sometimes, nerves are healthy. Nervousness forces us to do better, be better, and work harder. All we can do about nerves at the end of the day: keep our belief in ourselves. With that, nerves will slowly subside.


I got to thinking about birthdays. Birthdays are important. Birthdays are special occasions. Birthdays enable us to be the king or queen for the day. And what’s more exciting than that? But if your loved ones forget your birthday, you’re out of luck; more than that, you’re deeply hurt. How can someone’s own children disregard their mother’s birthday? How insensitive can you be? Don’t ever forget a loved one’s birthday. Birthdays aren’t really about getting older; birthdays are about being pampered by the ones we love.


I got to thinking about leaving home. Leaving home for college, a job, or merely a change of scenery. I’ve never dealt with leaving home like an adult should. I cry, thinking that the world is over. But in fact, it’s not. I leave home for several reasons: I don’t like my hometown, the weather, the vibe. My college isn’t near home, either. And I don’t plan on coming back to my hometown after I graduate. I wish I could or would. But I’ve discovered that happiness begins in a place where you’re settled, where you’re happy. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. I’m spreading my wings. I will face leaving home with confidence, poise, and happiness. It’s really just about adjustment, anyway. Once you’re adjusted, any place can be home.

Catholic Guilt

I got to thinking about Catholic guilt. It’s true, you know. We Catholics feel guilty about anything. I’ve held onto some guilt my entire life. This guilt hangs over our heads, forcing us to stress and make the next decision with more clarity and poise. Does this guilt make us better? Wiser? Stronger? I think that it does. It makes us know what we’ve done was wrong, that we must fix it the next time around. And yes, it is stressful, no doubt. But I’ve also discovered that Catholic guilt has served to help me make wiser decisions. I cannot do what is always right for me. It isn’t all about me, unfortunately. But it’s also important to remember that letting things hang over our heads doesn’t solve anything. Feel your Catholic guilt, and make it better the next time. That is all.


I got to thinking about selfishness. What’s the difference between independence and selfishness? Are we considered to be selfish if we don’t count on anyone for anything? Are we snobs? What if we don’t expect anything, therefore share anything, without question? Can we be independent without being selfish? Or do these things go hand in hand?


I got to thinking about articulation. As a writer, I find myself telling stories left and right. Humbly, I’d say that these stories are well thought-out and rehashed to my best ability. But this doesn’t seem to be quite the same in speech. My writing appears to be articulate; my speaking skills do not. Why is this? My stories seem to start and stop when I tell them aloud; there’s never a perfect flow. My inciting moments are left in the dust. How is it that I can be articulate in the written word, but not in everyday speech?