Day 16: The Day Where Writing A Grocery List Would Be More Interesting.

What it is, what it is! <—my catch phrase. That’s literally the coolest thing I ever say.

And it’s not cool at all, yo.

So, here we are, at day 16.

16)   If you planted a time capsule right now of your life to be opened in 20 years, what would be in it?

Well, this is lame.

1. My diary.

2. A gift card for Dunkin Donuts. Just to make my day.

3. The earrings my dad gave me/ the giraffe earring holder my dad gave me. Obviously it’s not really a giraffe earring holder. I’m just lame.

4. A letter to my future self, telling my future self to be freaking awesome.

5. A rubber snake just to scare the crap out of future me.

6. The shell that I carry around with me.

7. …my teddy bear. No judging.

8. My favorite pictures.

9. Like ten boxes of Oreos. Just in case the future is lame and healthy.

10. My violin. Lord knows I wouldn’t practice until 20 years from now anyway.

There’s my insightful blog post. Whoo.

No, seriously. Cry. That was so touching.

I mean seriously, what was the point of that? I might as well have made a grocery list. It would’ve been more interesting.

These people. Pfft.


Packing Away Monsters.

It’s funny how much a corner of a room matters. The walls–surrounding, solid, cold. The only thing keeping you sane as you break down completely.

“Try to hear my voice,
You can leave, now it’s your choice,
Maybe if I fall asleep, I won’t breathe right,
Maybe if I leave tonight, I won’t come back…”-Imagine Dragons

It’s funny how much lyrics help. The cries from further darkness show you you’re not alone. You’re just a fellow prisoner of this world, pleading for escape. Hating optimism. Hating yourself. Asking God why, why, WHY am I here? WHY would You do this?

And you get to the point where you decide that if you could go back and erase your entrance into this big, dark, looming existence, you wouldn’t think twice. The existence that is so much bigger than you could possibly know. Because every.single.person.matters. And no matter how you scrub and plead and process, you can’t get rid of yourself. You are eternal. You are permanent. And you must go somewhere. You must serve somebody.

It’s funny how things you thought were innocent and pieces of who you are can lead you down a dark path.

It happened to me.

I’ve talked about this lightly before, but today is different. Today I go in depth and release these pent-up words. Nightmare vocabulary.

Bear with me, here.

For the blog challenge that I’ve been a part of, today is day 15. And it’s awkward, man.

15)   Narrate a conversation between you and someone in your life who you never had closure with (a friend, an ex, a family member, etc.) What would you say? What would they say? What outcome would you hope for?

My name is Mandie Russell and I struggle with Limerence. What’s that, you ask?

Limerence is defined as: “an involuntary state of mind which results from a romantic attraction to another person combined with an overwhelming, obsessive need to have one’s feelings reciprocated.”

For me, it started as a very young child.1923202_1110963299164_1821418_n

My world was extremely messy and I began to run away from my realities via my imagination. I never was just studying math. No, no, I was 15 years in the future with the person who would accept me and make everything all right.

The freaking stupid Prince Charming complex that I will spend the rest of my life refuting. The complex that picked me up and dropped me from 1,000 ft.

High School senior year.

High School senior year.

I found the emotional support I wanted so badly in the future where everything was okay. I was going to marry this guy and he was going to act this way and life was going to be beautiful. And I do realize that every little girl does this, but for me it became a 24/7 habit that took over and warped my reality. And it lasted for far too long.




14-year-old me.

14-year-old me.

I didn’t know what was wrong with me.

There wasn’t a guy around until 2009. And I held onto that dream until 2013, though I barely saw or spoke to him. He would protect me from poverty, from extended family drama, from rejection of any sort. He would see me for me. One day, everything would be okay. One day I would be everything that I needed to be, but he would see me for that person even if I wasn’t quite there. Even if I wasn’t an A student yet. Even if I still struggled with pulling my hair straight out of my own head. Even if I still was obese. Even if.

I’m not this person–I’m not, I’m not!

And the delusion continued on and on and on. I never knew why I was so terrified that the guy I liked would find out. I never knew why he occupied nearly every inch of my mind. I never knew why, with Mr. 2013, I couldn’t eat or drink anything before talking to him because it would make me so nauseous. I never knew why one decent conversation could leave me on Cloud 9, but one awkward conversation could leave me feeling like a loser. I never knew why I wanted to talk to my friends about any nonverbal communication that could mean anything. A lot of this is normal crush stuff, but limerence carries things like this to the extreme. Not to the extent that you’re stalking them or even thinking something is happening between you and this person, but to the point where your future happiness depends on them. It’s the precursor to a co-dependent relationship. Let’s just say, thank God I’ve never even gone on a date.

Honestly, I just thought I was loyal. It wasn’t until this past summer that I finally Googled obsessive crushing and found Limerence. When I read the description, it was like reading my life story. I can’t describe the freeing shock or the new-found knowledge that something was truly wrong with me.

Later in the summer, I started going to therapy and I’ve been going since.

All this time, I  thought God was playing pointless games with me. I knew I met Mr. 2013 for a reason, but I had no idea what that reason was. He was around long enough for me to become attached and gone quick enough to shock me.  Later he came back to show me that the reality of the situation is there’s nothing there.

He was used as a tool and, in the process, he was a good friend as well. Even if he knew nothing about what was happening with me.  Which is just how it should be.

And through all of that, I’ve learned that the happy ending I thought I wanted would’ve been miserable and dissatisfying.

So, in all honesty, when I’m faced with this question of closure there are a couple  chapters that need to be closed.

A. Truthfully, I need closure with myself. I am enough. Here, right where I’m planted, I am loved and counted beautiful. I don’t have to feel the effects of trichotillomania or obesity or limerence or anything else that took away from my self-worth. Those things aren’t who I am; they’re only things I deal with. My job is to take today and push forward, using everything I have right now.  I’m not where I wanted to be, but I’m OK.  And that corner that held me at various times? I put it to rest–I don’t need it anymore.

B.  Here’s where I really answer the question for day 15. If you’ve hung in there with me, thank you. 😉

If I could get closure with Mr. 2013–if everything was on the table and we were talking about it, I would thank him. I would thank him for being himself, for being kind to me, and for even showing me a bit of who I really am. What really got me with him was that there were so many similarities between us and I don’t think that was the limerence speaking. What got me with him was I never really knew if we were friends or not, but thought maybe there was some connection there to where we could have been good friends.

If I could say anything to him about this, I’d tell him that I think he’s a great person who will move on to do great things.

And honestly? I have no idea how he would react. I have no desire to discuss these things. And the outcome would be the exact same.  Do I need closure? No. But if I did need closure about anything, this would be it. Because it wrecked my life and forced me to begin again.

And with that, the chapter is closed and the monsters are packed away.




Catching Up: Days 11-14 Blog Challenge

10357599_10203901887219097_834607257327715203_n Helloooo, bloggers!

Today we’ll be catching up. Give me a break; I’m a senior in college.

And I was busy riding a camel. Gosh.

Day 11: Your worst/funniest/most embarrassing date:

Well, this is easy. I’VE NEVER BEEN ON A DATE.

Hahahahahah. Ha. Haha. Ha.

I could give you an embarrassing story. Like the cat story, for example.

But I’m not going to. 😉

Day 12: Your proudest accomplishment.

Once again, this is easy. I DON’T HAVE ANY ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

Being a bum is really helpful today.

Okay, I can write. That’s about it, man.

And I can rap Super Bass and the theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Partially.


Day 13: Describe how you met the last person you texted and talk about your friendship/relationship.

Awe, little Katelyn! *ahem*

And, it just so happens I have a recent picture! She’s going to love me for this.

10460492_10205348688221566_1337902795044383783_nLook at us and our henna tats.

On a fine day, around three years ago, I was not a happy person. I was a freshman in college and my dad had just lost his job for an incredibly stupid reason. My best friend was at a different college and I was pretty lonely.

My family was on food stamps and we were pretty dependent on them. We were told that since I was in college, they would take away those food stamps unless we could prove that I was doing the college thing on my own. Which I was. So in order to keep the food coming, I had to get a job. Thank you, government.

So I inquired about getting a job on campus and found myself sauntering into the Bob Jones Cleaners. Little did I know how much that place would impact my life. Little did I know that my experiences there and the people I met would teach me far more than I ever planned on. Even the people who didn’t think they taught me much at all, they did. Ohh, they did.

Well, I met Katelyn right away and we became really close pals. We go on adventures together and always have a blast! We’ve even ridden elephants together and gone on random Charleston excursions.

She listens to my rants and I listen to her rants. We’re the same and we’re different at the same time. It’s beautiful. I’m really thankful for that day back in 2011 where I met one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had.

14)   Describe the last moment you felt really, truly blissful.

Actually, these moments have been coming more and more frequently. I can’t really describe a moment per se, but it’s seeping into my life. I feel it more and more, with each coming day: thankfulness. In fact, once this challenge is over, I plan on blogging about things I’m thankful for. So stay tuned!

Peace out!

Worthy of Love. Day 10.

Two weeks late. 30 hours of labor.

And they still had to perform a cesarean section.

So, at 9:20 p.m. on September 28th, 1992 I entered this world. Actually, no. I was dragged into this world.

I’ve been dragged along through life, kicking and screaming and hollering at God when things don’t go my way.

And yet, on a night I sometimes wish I could reverse and erase and ship far, far away, He gave me a beautiful gift. I count it the greatest birthday gift: my name.

Amanda. It means “worthy of love.” He whispered it over me and stamped it into every inch of my being–worthy of love. He did this in spite of everything He knew I would become. In spite of every time He knew I would rebel against Him.

He whispers, “Write.”

I say, “That’s boring.”

He commands, “Do what you’re supposed to.”

I retort, “Pick someone else. You’ve got the wrong girl, pal.”

He says, “Follow Me.”

I say, “Uh, how about no?”

He says, “I want you.”

I say, “Give me what I want and maybe then.”

I wrestle and wrestle. My heart is a dark hole covered up by illusions created by my imagination. My whole life consists of living in my head–sketching out the smile on my face, the kindness in his eyes, and the various scenarios where maybe, possibly I could finally have my life going my way. Where I could finally be happy. Where I could finally be “me. ”

Where I’m thin. And confident. And witty. And put-together. And giving life all I’ve got. All I’ve felt I could be.

And all this time, I’ve been waiting for a savior. Jesus is nice and all, but where’s my happy ending? Someone’s supposed to rescue me from myself and all the unpleasantness of life. To see all that I could be. Because I’m that special. Because that’s what special people do. If I wanted to participate in this petty race to the top, I could do well. But my story is different. And I’m a victim. And victims are rescued, right?

I believed someone would pick me up, dust me off, and say, “I believe in you.”

But that’s not my reality. Maybe someone, somewhere has that reality–it’s not impossible.  But it’s not for me.

And I thank God for that now.

All this time, He’ sat back and waited for me. He still chooses to see me as worthy of love, to give me a millionth chance.

So when you ask me what my name means to me, I shift my eyes down to the floor and then look back up with seriousness in my eyes, “Worthy of love.” And I know how God means it when He says it; I know how it brings me hope when everything seems lost. I know that you can’t shake it off. Or dissuade God when you pour out your heart to Him and tell Him how pointless you are.

He just whispers, “You are mine and I say you are worthy because of the cross.”

All because of the cross.

Blog Challenge: Day 9

9)  Your favorite “weird/funny single behavior” – Anything you do that is uniquely YOU and that living alone allows you to do.

So, this question represents why I reconsidered doing this challenge. Because I’m sure this challenge is directed more towards single women living on their own, following their dreams, dating off and on, blah, blah, blah.

Heh. And I’m most definitely not in that category.

But my logic is this: I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever been on a date, had some flirtship thing, or even shared a cookie with a dude.

In all honesty, I’ve rarely even talked to them. And when I do, I act like a reserved jerk. Just because I’m awkward and. . .yeah.

But with my lack of experience, at my age, I feel like it gives me a boost in the single department. Yeah, I’m young. Yeah, I have my entire life ahead of me. Yeah, I really don’t need to worry about it and I don’t worry about it. But I feel even with older single women who are dating around, but not really having much luck, because I have absolutely no game whatsoever.

. . .except with creepy men at Taco Bell. . .we found love in a hopeless place.

So, that’s partially why I’m doing this challenge: because I feel like I’m right there with the rest of them, following my dreams and claiming my well-deserved loner status. Which I so happen to be quite proud of, thank you.

As for my weird, funny single thing? Well, I have several:

I take naps in the bathtub. And the shower. You know, on occasion. It’s just so warm and comfy.

I wear onesies.

I go outside and just stare at my surroundings. And think. And drink coffee. It’s awesome.

I raid the kitchen and watch New Girl at midnight.

I dance around the kitchen and freak my dog out. She has no clue the talent she is witnessing.

And yeah. That’s my way-long, awkward post.


Day 8: Maaaan…

8) Five things that are most important to you in a future mate.

. . .I really hate this question.

. . .and for those of you who know me personally, you know that I REALLY, REALLY feel awkward.

. . .and my best friends out there know that while I say I hate this question and really do feel awkward, I at the same time find it fascinating. Because I’m all about the hypothetical and I love discussions.

So, by all means. Let’s have a discussion.

Except we’re doing this, substituting the word “mate” with the phrase “homie for life.” Because I like that better. And calling somebody your mate is just weird. What is this? The Animal Channel?

And I’m not going to put “I want a Christian” in the list. Because that’s obvious.

1. Why am I doing this?

Ugh, okay.


I also procrastinate when I feel awkward.




Let’s make this a little.








I guess if I had to answer, I would want someone with a really great sense of humor. And no, knock-knock-jokes do not count. Or yo mama jokes. I’m talking witty. I’m talking snarky. I’m talking animated facial expressions. I’m talking goofy. I’m talking laugh-at-yourself-when-you-act-like-an-idiot.

And he must have a love for New Girl. And Spongebob.

And Dumb and Dumber.

2. Understanding. I need someone really understanding, accepting, and open-minded. I think all of these things are necessary to be a decent human being, let alone a Christian. This is big for me and I really don’t think I could be with anyone who is so close-minded that he refuses to listen to what other people think or feel about any topic. Not that I think you should just believe what everybody else believes, but I’m a strong believer in listening to others, discussing opinions, gathering facts, and solidifying your world view. Ultimately, the Bible is our world view but I think Christians should listen to other opinions a lot more than we do.

And let’s just be honest here. To be with a journalist? You’ve gotta be pretty understanding.

. . .and then there’s my family. So, yep. Understanding is a must.

3.  Different/adventurous. By this I just mean up for anything. Somebody who’s interested in doing new things and going new places. Someone who will go to sketchy parts of town just to see what’s there or someone who’s up for a Zumba class just because it’s mainly girls and it would be freaking hilarious.

4. Deep. I can’t have a shallow guy. It’s just not for me. I need someone more introverted, but not necessarily quiet. I would need someone who thinks about a lot of things on a deeper level and discusses them.

5. Strong. I would want someone unafraid to stand up for themselves or others–someone who leads and doesn’t follow the crowd.

So, yep. There’s my hypothetical, awkward list.

Peace out.

Day 7–Digging A Little Deeper.

Day 7) Where are you in your life vs. where you thought you would be at this point.

I’m going to go personal on this one. So if you’re uncomfortable with personal emotions and/or personal struggles, you might want to stop here. Or hey, go watch a cat video. That’s what I’d do.

I’m asked where I’m at in my life. I’m asked where I thought I would be. But the answer is the same as years ago: here.

I’ve always been here. Caged in by the chains I bear and held tight by the walls I built.

And never allowing my Savior to work in me.

As it always goes, it all started when I was very young.

Age 6–Mondays that reminded me of pink and Peter Pan and Barbies and reading with my Mama and making my Daddy take me on dates and fighting–always fighting–with everyone that didn’t do what I wanted. And boys.

Age 7–boys and smartest in my little class and…boys, boys, boys. And one day–you know, when I was the smartest and the grandest and fairest of them all–the boys would all fall for me and I would break hearts. Not like I would mean to, but yeah. I would be the heroine of my story–and all other stories. Because I have what it takes.

Age 8–weight gain. And Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. I would be them one day.

Age 9–by this time, consistently daydreaming my days away of the future that would  come with the future guy and my future appearance and my future success.

Age 10–continued weight gain. But it was coming, it was coming. Wait on me, world. I’m fabulous. I’ll grow taller, you’ll see. It’s just baby fat, you’ll see. It’ll naturally go away, you’ll see. And, Mom, don’t tell me I can’t have that third piece of cake. I want it.

Building–always building. But only in my mind. Where everything could be controlled and written and re-written and obsessed over until maybe one day all these things would come true.

Age 11–running from responsibility. Trichotillomania: hair pulling. Pull, pull, pull. Dream, dream, dream. Eat, eat, eat.

And my mind continued to go to waste, lacking discipline. Always, always creating false happiness.

My parents didn’t know what I was going through. They didn’t realize the constant movie playing throughout my mind. But I knew. And God knew.

Age 15–high school. Dream, dream, dream. Stay up late to “do schoolwork.” Try to get saved again; see if it works this time. No? Okay, God. Give me six months when I’m panicking again–when I’m trying to get a get-out-of-hell-free card and we’ll see if I can keep up with being good then. Or whatever.

Age 17–he looks nice. One day, he’ll make my dreams come true. My happiness depends on him. One day, one day, one day.

Age 18–253 pounds. Palpitations and pain in my left arm. Don’t eat the fast food, don’t eat the sweets, take swigs of vinegar to clear arteries. (The things I hear…) Lay in bed, listening to my heart beat. Is it too fast? Deep breath, deep breath. Feel my pulse. Wonder if I’ll go to hell. Don’t let me die, God. God? Do you hear me? I can’t sleep until I know if I’ll go to heaven.

Age 19–down 50 pounds.

Whelp, don’t care about that anymore.


September/October: Daydream about him, chat on Facebook, stay up until 3 AM and get one thing done. I have time, I have time, I have time. Feel guilty. Determine to do better.

Yeah right.

November: Daydream about him, stay up all night if necessary, get two things done.

December: finals. Try to survive and walk away, disappointed in myself. Hating myself. Wishing I’d never existed at all. Sobbing.

And the weight gain continued on and on and on.

All of this came to a head this summer, with me acknowledging that the true problem of all of this resided in the incessant daydreaming. Writing–always writing. It’s the cross I bear and the habit I’ve allowed to take over my entire life. Subconsciously, as long as I had hope that one day everything would be okay I was okay. I never needed to work hard; I never needed to discipline myself. With the coming of Prince Charming would come my salvation and that’s what I clung to.

Because that’s the only thing I thought would bring fulfillment.

But God knew. And he brought an individual into my life that I wanted–I mean, really wanted–to rescue me. From myself, from situations, from people who make me feel like less of a human being.

And God showed me that everything going on in my head was merely an illusion I’d created in order to stabilize the spinning world I grew up in. The world rocked by financial situations, abandonment from family members, and gossiping friends.

The world where my family and I were outcasts. The world where we were whispered about because my dad fell into unlucky job situations.

The world where a 20-year-old cries, “God, I know he doesn’t matter to them. But he matters to me! He matters to You too, right?”

And if Prince Charming would just come along…I’d be whole. And my happy ending would snap into place.

Jesus is nice, but He’s so universal. He loves EVERYBODY. I mean, I believe but…I want somebody all to myself. Who will love me for ME.

I’m beginning to see that I was wrong about Jesus.

If reality were a shore, I’ve been lost at sea for years and years and years. But Jesus wrecked me against reality. I sit here on the shore, the waves slapping at my legs, with a shattered heart cupped in my hands. The pieces start to reflect false hopes again–a mirror to nothingness and He looks at me and covers my heart with his hand, “No, child. Follow Me. Live. Build.”

I look up and wonder if it could be true. If He could actually rescue me from ME. I mean, that’s a pretty big deal. That’s a lot of the reason I kept straying away from Him–because I knew that, to change me, He’d have to turn on robot mode.

So, there’s my story. If you asked me a year ago where I thought I’d be right now, I could have constructed a beautiful story with a brilliant, fun-loving, thin twenty-something with a guy on her arm.

But now? I’m building. And growing stronger.

I think.

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.”-Ernest Hemingway

Blog Challenge Day 5

5)      The biggest misconception you think people have about single life.

Rant mode, here we come.

1. Single people are less important than dating, engaged, or married people.

I’ve seen it at a few bridal showers. (Note: not any recent bridal showers. ;)) Giggly, old women asking about the house, the wedding, the job situation and “Oh, you know how men are….gotta keep them in shape!” And then they squeal over the games and ooh over the details of the wedding that are discussed, wishing they could go back to those days before Fred started acting cranky.

…when quite frankly, if I were Fred I’d be irritated too.

*Disclaimer* Not all married elder ladies are like this. But the ones that are like this are found primarily at bridal showers.

And then, a single woman has a run-in with one of these ladies and the question is, “So, what are your future plans?”

And their fake smile stays perfectly in place while you lay out your career plans. If you say anything about having interest in anybody, they just tell you to wait. And never, ever give up on your Prince Charming.

adjkhdfjalhfdaljhdsaflkjhdl LISTEN TO ME. OR GO AWAY.

There are many other misconceptions about single life, but this is by far the worst. Because life has led me in a different direction doesn’t make my life any easier or any harder and no, I’m not in a corner crying and waiting for Mr. Perfect to pop up. I’m just sorry, ma’am.

Single life isn’t a wrong lifestyle or a lesser lifestyle–it’s different. We still work, we still pay bills, we still have lives.

And just saying, but maybe we should have home-warming parties for single people when they first venture out on their own, huh? Maybe they need an espresso machine just as much as married people.


Okay, I’m done. Really.

Blog Challenge: Days 3-6. Heh.

So here we go. The eyebrow raise. The I-knew-she-couldn’t-keep-up-with-this mentality.

Not today, sir.

I’ve been sick. And crazy busy. And unfortunately, I probably won’t be able to really elaborate on each question like I prefer to…but ya know. We roll with these things.

Day 3: Describe a moment or a day when being single was really awesome.

Actually last Tuesday perfectly fits this category. After work, my friend, Katelyn, was over at my house chilling with my sister. My sister went with my parents to the Fresh Market–because apparently my parents are obsessed with the Tuesday specials at the Fresh Market…–and Abby handed me 7 bucks she’d found in one of my bags. “YOU’RE WELCOME,” she stated as she reluctantly handed over my money.

After they left, believing I would really sit and think about my poor life choices, I turned to Katelyn and asked, “How much is Great Wall?”

“I think around 7 dollars…” she said.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Um, yes.”

We got in the car and goofed off, got our Chinese food, and returned home only to find that I had in fact locked us out of the main part of the house. So we ended up scrunched up in the laundry room, eating Chinese food and watching New Girl on her phone. After that we tried, and failed, to break into the house. In the end, we just sat outside and talked about life. It was awesome.

All that to say, being single gives me little moments like that all the time. Those moment where you just chill with your friends and do random stuff–those moments where you eat food and have deep conversations without worrying about anything.

Other than homework. . .

Day 4: Your biggest fear as a single person.

I know I’m still very young and I still have plenty of time before it’s necessary for me to even worry about being single for the rest of my life, but I guess a fear everyone experiences is being alone. Some days, even as young as I am, I feel lonely and I wish there was ONE person who cared about all of these little things that bring me down.

For now, other than that, I’m pretty much fearless as far as single life goes…and it’s taken a lot to get here. So I think I’ll chill here for awhile.

Day 5: The biggest misconception you think people have about single life

This day will be moved to tomorrow. Because I have a rant. And this post is long enough. So stay tuned! 😉

Day 6: Sound off on the quote “Every woman has the exact love life she wants”

If you were here, you would hear a great snort and a lot of cynical-based laughter.

That’s crap.

Not all single people want to be single. Not all married people are satisfied with their marriages. Not all dating people exactly love how their relationship has turned out.

Because, newsflash? Fairy-tales don’t exist. They just don’t. Relationships are all about two imperfect people who choose to love each other, despite their flaws. It’s just like anything else–if you want it, you’ve got to work for it. And even then, it doesn’t always work out. And if it’s not working you have to decide what goes–your expectations or the person.

Sometimes the person SHOULD be cut off. And sometimes, you’re not in touch with reality.

And as for single people? Not every single person loves the independence and freedom that come with being single, but if you want contentment with your life you also have two options: chill out and do what you’re supposed to do for this moment. . .

Or freaking join eHarmony.

Blog Challenge: Day 2

1503483_10203748040726379_2689867789037798492_nDay 2: Describe a moment where being single really sucked.

Oh man.

Well for one thing, there’s no honey in my Gingerbread tea. And I kinda would like someone to head up to the store and buy some. And I’m kinda chilly. It would be nice for someone to run and get me a sweater…

Totally joking. 😉 I’m lazy, but not a total user.

In all seriousness, for me, it’s not being single that sucks. I love being independent and I never look at a couple and long for what they share. I just don’t.

What sucks are the days where that one guy you thought for sure you had a connection with doesn’t care at all. Or you see him with a girl and you just feel so low and unattractive that you go home and sit in your closet (yes, this has happened) and cry. At those moments, you feel so utterly misrepresented and rejected by some dumbo that you lose yourself for a second.

And honestly, it’s all in your head. It’s all a mind-game the Devil plays where he says, “Hey you. You’re not good enough. Look at those hips. They ain’t lying!”

…did I really just make the Devil funny?

It’s those times where you just want to rush up to that one guy and say, “Hey! I know in reality I may be perceived in certain ways…but it’s not like that! See, I have this visual of what I could be in like ten months and if you would be so kind as to stick around we could be something pretty dang special. Or whatever. If you want. Maybe?”

That’s my sales pitch.

And here’s where we go into story-mode. As if I could write a blog post without one.

On a fine day last spring semester, I passed a guy I liked. He walked down the halls, exuding confidence while I was barely able to stand up straight due to staying up all night. For the umpteenth time.

My hair was in a stringy ponytail and my clothes felt plainer than I cared to admit. I was wearing an undoubtedly wrinkled khaki skirt and a navy blue sweater, paired with plain, black shoes. And let’s not even talk about the state of my makeup.

How I looked and felt is branded into my memory. When he greeted me, I felt so awkward and ugly that I decided a change was mandatory.

So within two days, I had my hair totally changed into something that didn’t make me feel ugly.

Okay, and I’m lazy and bad with hair. Let’s be honest here.

But the point? One guy, who probably didn’t think anything of what I looked like, caused me to change something about myself. I gave the possibility of some guy thinking I wasn’t up to par beauty-wise the power to make me feel like less of a person. But in truth? No matter what my hair looks like, I still have worth and beauty just because I’m a human being.

All that to say, that’s what makes being single hard for me: not feeling validated because that one person won’t look my way. It gets to all of us single people, but we can’t let it keep us down.

Okay, and it would be nice to have someone who’s able to beat up the weirdos in Taco Bell that hit on my sister and I. . .but that’s a totally different story.

Crap. I just spilled my tea. Yet another sucky moment.