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High-strung

That was one of the words my ex-boyfriend used to describe me. He was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about that one and that one right thing was what I hated the most about him and me together. It’s funny it sometimes takes a romantic relationship to learn who I am, but that’s what happened seven years ago. To me, being nervous and easily upset is the worst thing in the world. I don’t know why I feel that way or where the feeling comes from. I just do. But more specifically I hate the word “high-strung.” I don’t even like saying it. It’s like if I’m thinking about saying it I’ll have to pull a Harry Potter and just call it a “you-know-what” instead. Like, my ex-boyfriend used to call me a you-know-what. That doesn’t sound right either so that’s probably why it never became a thing. Not that I hope it does because that would be weird. I just think “high-strung” makes me think of “crazy” and while I like being called a crazy writer, I don’t like being called “crazy.” Is that so crazy?

 

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yellow light

I want to tell someone there’s a significant change that happens when you hit your 30s. It’s not puberty #2 or anything, but you do feel it physically. Fatigue starts settling in on your body a lot faster and it takes you longer to recover, making you acutely aware you are no longer in your 20s.

I’m going through this now, even though it’s been two years since I hit 30. It takes a minute for 30 to sink in. It really does. I wanted to share in case anyone is about to go through this or can relate. Feeling tired easily is not a fun feeling, but after you are done with your 20s, you realize you’ve learned so many lessons the dumb, hard way. You appreciate the lessons, but they make you especially thankful you are done with your 20s.

Proceed with caution. My biggest fear right now is rambling too much. I really don’t know if that’s a typical 30s thing, but it seems to be a typical YuMin thing, whatever age she is. Maybe it’s just a part of me, but I can’t shake it, so I reluctantly let it stay. It’s like I have all this word vomit I must share due to previously mentioned lessons. Older, wiser, prouder?

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Eretria

You’re a good person at the core, but you’re pulled by your dark side all the time to do dark things. You’re not sure how you get pulled since you know deep down you’re good. It’s like someone else is making you be bad sometimes. That someone else is in you, but is not you. You are aware of its unwelcome, yet overpowering presence. All you want to do is send it away, but no matter what you try it just won’t go away completely. You’re a slave to it sometimes. Other times your mind overpowers it and it becomes a slave to you. That’s the best feeling in the world. Sometimes the feeling becomes such a rush it is something you crave. And that crave for power is intoxicating. The question is, how are you going to use that power?

*this post inspired by The Shannara Chronicles

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Math

Writer’s block is a terrible condition. It makes you sniff your nails and try to clean them if they smell off. Distract yourself by watching random music videos. Scratch your hair. Adjust your glasses 531 times. Pick at your temporary tattoo. Pick up hair from the carpet one strand at a time. Fold 1,000 paper cranes. Wait…I don’t think I’m quite at a thousand…

Clean your pencil sharpener. Check Facebook and Twitter. Take out the trash. Fill in your planner for next week. Floss your teeth. Shower.

And then it chases you back to your seat where butt + chair = write.

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Do you know this?

The feeling of exhaustion consumes me, like imagining what drowning would be like, only without the euphoria. I know how I got here, too, but I can’t even admit it out loud for fear it becomes reality, even though it is my reality.

Perfectionism is a beast you can’t defeat. It rides on your back and keeps your head facing the screen. You must impress the high-brows or else. You must type the right words or enter the right numbers. You must must. Your heart dances, but not in a good way. It wants to grow a pair of legs and run away.

Run away to somewhere it feels safe to be itself. Somewhere no harm can come to it and nothing can tell it to stay in one place, musting into infinity. In this place there’s no beyond. There’s only Groundhog Day.

The days blend together and it’s hard to tell if you’ve been through the trenches already or it’s only just starting. All you know is the feeling of exhaustion.

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she was memorable

I understood that you liked girls in the same way you liked guys so I never judged you for the way you looked at my chest. Because I knew that is part of the girl you were. And I accepted you that way. Trust me, we wouldn’t have gotten along so well as friends if I didn’t understand you. I hope you understand me too and maybe you’re still like that now, but I guess I won’t ever find out now beyond some Facebook updates. I should have tried to figure this out back then. Not that we hate each other now or anything. We’re just far away and have too much time in between us and the last time we saw each other. I won’t forget you. You taught me one important fact and it’s still true to this day though I don’t like telling a lot of people for fear of coming across conceited. I’m not even sure where this fear is coming from, like I really have a lot of things to make me conceited. There are so many much more talented people out there than me. I am but a leaf of grass, like Walt Whitman would say. It’s safe to say I never forget anyone who teaches me a lesson.

But now that I think of it, we had a lot in common. I suppose there was some mutual understanding, but people can change. I suppose you’ve changed. I can sense it from your Facebook updates. You are more calm, more centered, and most of all, more into animals and crafts. You took on a practical job to make a living instead of living a make. I’m over here living a make and wondering if I made the right path choices. I’m happy, but every now and then I think of the way you used to look at my chest and I remember what you said to me that made going to the same school leading to different futures make sense.

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Hilary Duff in “According to Greta”

7j60

https://gifer.com/en/7J60

Hilary Duff is not exactly mesmerizing like Lindsay Lohan. But her Greta character really pulled me in. I don’t remember ever being as obvious as her when I was 16, but once again, I can relate to how she feels in a world “According to Greta.” I think Greta works for Hilary Duff because she’s so opposite of Lizzie McGuire and you don’t expect Hilary Duff to play someone like Greta. When you have low expectations, results turn out better. I didn’t expect her to play someone so troubled she wants to kill herself, so when she did it well, I really appreciated her performance as the work of art it was. Her clothes, her hair, her make-up, and her attitude all came together nicely to play a convincing suicidal girl. There was more to her character than just a girl contemplating ending her life. Those thoughts rarely come from nothing. When you find out more about her life, you begin to get inside her head, but at the same time feel bad for her. It’s funny both Lindsay Lohan and Hilary Duff ended up in movies with moms and grandmoms who send unruly daughters away to deal with their rebellious teenaged girls. Greta writes in a notebook and I immediately gravitate towards anyone who does that. Her thoughts she shares makes her accessible in a way you can understand her. The story itself delivers a good message: suicide affects those around you the most. People can only try to save you so much. If you kill yourself you hurt the people who love you the most. In the end only you can save you. Besides worrying about you, the people that love you have a lot of their own troubles to worry about. It’s not necessary to make others prove to you that they care about you by risking their lives to save you. Oh, and one more thing. If I had Greta as my waitress, I would request to be seated in her section every time as well.