The Happiness Project~
I need to write and I am starting now. I have to talk about some things and I have to see them on paper. If I write them down, then they will not be hidden away. My memories will not only belong to me, but to anyone who wants to know them. I am sharing my life with you, and you could not care less. I am pretty sure you did not open this book to find these words. We all have an expectation for our lives and even each other. If you don’t like my character, my story and my words, then tear, burn, and throw away this story from your mind and write your own because I’m not here to make you happy. I am here to make myself happy. I am here today for me and that is strange to say. I’m going to call this, The Happiness Project. Or maybe I shouldn’t? If I were you and I read that title, I would open it believing that I could find some grand answer to the questions of my unhappiness. Well, these are the answers to my own questions and I will find the answers to them. Through my story, you might find the answers to your own questions. If you want to tag along, I don’t mind. In fact, I want you to listen. I need you too.
Sometimes we don’t see our own solutions, unless an outside view helps us to understand. I need your eyes and even your words to do this. I am going to tell you everything that makes me insane. I have been feeling a little out of it lately. I see other people with problems and look at their little pills, and wonder if I should take them too. Wouldn’t’ t that be nice? To take a capsule of happy and forget why you wanted to take the medication in the first place? Maybe it wouldn’t be so fun and maybe I don’t need them. I need to focus on the truth and to learn from the truth. My head is filled to bursting. I am overwhelmed. I stress too much, I know that is all and I need to discover why through this project and to cheer up without picking up a bottle. The end of my last sentence concerned you, didn’t it? I want to pick up a glassy bottle and drink away to forget my problems. Maybe you do have a reason to worry, because I’m not talking about Cream Soda. But, I don’t need it completely either. I drink a beer at the end of the day, just because I can and I enjoy it. It has also been a crutch lately and I can feel it. But, that is why I started this project and I will find myself again.
I feel lost sometimes. I am falling into my own mind and it is not comforting there. I think about everything. EVERYTHING. Do you understand? I think about what torments me, even if that is the dirty dishes lying in the sink. I let EVERYTHING torment me. I am helpless to let it happen. It is a mind set. How do you not think about your life and the things you worry about? I always want to change the outcome of things and It has always been this way. I first noticed my compulsive need to help others, when I was only six.
Snow White didn't listen~
My mom took me and my three sister to a play at the local high school in our small town. I had never been to a play before, EVER. I did not know what a play was, or even that they were actors, if you can believe that. We had lived in the country and we had only watched movies, but never a live performance of characters. The play was Snow White and I was ecstatic. I was not ecstatic because I loved the Disney movie, which I did, I was happy because I could finally save her! I am wondering if you are laughing at my six year old self, because I am. I had been deeply disturbed by the fact that Snow White had always been tricked by the queen and nearly killed, each time I watched the movie. I remember thinking, that if someone could only have warned her…then she could have been saved from so much pain. I wanted to be her hero, because no one else could. When the play started, I waited for the perfect moment to warn Snow white, because I had to make sure that the evil queen wouldn’t find out my plan. The actress was dressed up like a terrible witch, just like in the movie and I despised her with a hate that a child should not have felt. Snow White was so beautiful, even in real life, I had thought to myself. Me and the audience had found out that the queen was going to give a poisoned comb to Snow White, so that she would put it in her hair and that would make her fall into an eternal sleep. The queen would be arriving at anytime to give it to her! I remembered that I had to act fast! I jumped out of my seat and saw that Snow White was in her room, all alone and ready for me tosave her. I ran up to the stage and called her name as quietly as I could. I felt so triumphant when she bent down and turned to me to ask what I needed. I told her that the evil queen was coming to kill her and that she COULD NOT put that poisoned comb in her hair! She smiled at me and agreed that she would not do that and that she was happy that I had warned her. I told her several times that she was in danger, just in case she didn’t understand the severity of the situation. Now that I look back to this moment, I feel so bad for this actress. She was a high school student and I could not imagine how I would feel if a child interrupted my scene to tell me that I needed to stay away from the evil witch. She was very kind about the whole incident and I am thankful for that. I thought that I had warned Snow White and now, I had changed the future for her. I was extremely proud, until I watched Snow White take the poisoned comb and put it in her hair anyway. I remember that my chest filled with anger and then sadness as she died. I felt betrayed and a little foolish, because she had not listened to me. I had wanted to change the course of the movie so many times, that I had believed this was my opportunity to do it. Snow white did not listen to my warning, but she did survive in the end and that was all I wanted anyway. I cherish this memory, because it reminds me that I was so innocent once and I enjoyed believing that I could change anything I set my mind to. If sometime bothers me, I need to change it and if I can’t, at least I tried my best.
The problem with me, is that I want to be a hero. I wanted to be the girl that saved Snow White. I can not save Snow white, because she has a destiny of her own to fulfill. She must suffer in order to be happy and so do I and I have in my own way. You may understand a little more about myself now and so let me continue on, with my Happiness Project. I will find my sanity again, come with me if you would like. I do not know where to start first. Should I start with the past? The present? I guess that depends on what is bothering me the most, now doesn’t it? I guess it would be better to show you who I am and how I became as I am. I am not a bad person, I do not personally think. I just have a problem in my mind and how I interpret the world. I live day to day, with an agonizing feeling that I am helpless in my circumstances. I feel as if I can help no one that needs my help. So, I do what I can and still think it is not enough. If I do tell you pieces of my life I promise, I will not tell you a long, drawn out story. But, I could if I wanted. I am not writing this for your entertainment. How will I help myself, if I am trying to make you happy? But I am conflicted because I hope that my writing does make you happy, that is also my goal, but besides that I do not take complaints. You can not know who I am through my own experiences, just like I can not know who you are by knowing yours. In our minds, our experiences and how we perceive and learn from them are unique. We will never be on the same level with each other, as we are with ourselves. But, I can try to show you. You can relate to me, because we are human.
Fear of Living~
I am so tired of being afraid. I will not be afraid to speak, I will not be afraid to tell you that I do not care if you read this book or not. That is a hard thing to say, especially since I usually want everyone to read my writing. I wanted to be heard, but now I just need to hear myself. I don’t care if you think I’m rambling either, because I am. The first step to happiness, that I have discovered at this moment: Is not caring what other people think. I can only make myself happy and you can only make yourself happy in the end. Have you ever valued someone’s opinion so much, that you based your life around it? Doesn’t it feel terrible? It feels as if we are walking on egg shells that we are not allowed to break. It is a tormenting feeling, as if you are trapped in a situation that you won’t get yourself out of. That is exactly what it is, we are trapping ourselves in a situation that we are keeping ourselves in. If we don’t care about their opinions, then we are free. But, some of us are cowards and I mean me. We don’t want to be judged and when we are, we try to fix that aspect of ourselves that made someone feel compelled to judge us. But, if we can not change or do not want to change what we are being judged by, then why should we worry? I want to be who I am and I am who I am. So, at this moment I won’t hold back. I won’t care about your judgment. I am being honest today and It feels great to be brave for once. Try it with me and don’t tell me you don’t feel alive. I feel alive at this moment, so lets enjoy it together.
The yellow house~
I think about the yellow house a lot. The yellow house, is my description of my childhood home. It is the first home I remember and it was extraordinarily beautiful. It had three rooms, many windows and a country side view for miles. There was a mile long stretch of pistachio trees across the road our house. I discovered nature at this home and my love of trees and of the stars. I loved our giant yard, with the towering trees and even the frightening sound of Coyotes howling in the distance at night and the shadows of the monstrous trees from my bedroom window. I have three sisters and they were my only friends. My life was very good. I always had food, a warm bed and the world to entertain me. I felt safe in that home and I was comforted by the Rose garden in the front and our six dogs. I loved the swing in the front yard and exploring with my sisters. Everything was perfect, until I noticed that it was not. Our mom was always home and she would spend her days reading us books, taking us outside to play, showing us flowers, trees and teaching us about the world. My favorite books was, “Good Dog Carl,“ if you have ever read it as a child, you understand.
My mom always used to tell us scary stories too. My favorite was the Apple Tree Monster. It was a story about four little girls who go into a forest to pick the apples from the apple tree. As the little girls are picking the apples and having fun, the apple tree suddenly springs to life and says that he is going to eat them because they have stolen his apples. The little girls all run home and scream for their mom to save them. The mom rushes out of the house with a shot gun and BANG, blows up the tree and they all watch the tree and its apples fly into a million pieces. In the end, the mother get all of the apple pieces and makes enough apple pies to last them a lifetime. My mother was my hero, even as a child, so I loved that the mother in the story saved the day.
I was always happy, like I said, until I noticed some things. I did not know it then, but my father had a drug problem. He was hardly ever home and I didn’t care as my sisters and my mom were there. When my father was home, he was angry. I remember one day, when my father was home and he had cooked dinner. It was dinner time and he called us all to the table. I didn’t want to go, so I dove into my moms closet and started getting out her pretty clothes and trying to fit In them. I got her red lipstick too and put it on my face and drew on the mirror in front of me. It was a lot of fun and I didn’t care about dinner. I was only three years old. Because I didn’t come, my father came and got me and he wasn’t nice about it. I remember that he yelled and I was afraid. The memory is fuzzy, as if I were in a dream. Nothing big happened, so I am sorry if I disappointed you. All that I remember, is that my mother did not allow him to take me away because I was happy doing what I was doing. I just sat on the bed crying and feeling that I had done something wrong. I felt strange and if I had done something VERY wrong. I know that my dad had overreacted and I was just a child, wondering why I could not continue to play. But, It felt different then ever before. Maybe it was because, the only time my dad talked to me, was when he was yelling. I don’t remember a time clearly, when he wasn’t unhappy. He was always nervous, pacing and frustrated that he needed to take care of us. That was when I first realized, that something was wrong in my perfect world.
I will not explain everything little thing that upset me. Most of the things that happened, were moments when my father was a little too rough. He would pull our arms as he carried us, or even spank us when we didn’t do what he said. He was a fearful figure in my mind, although he never severely abused us and he never harmed our mother in a physical way. One memory haunts me and It is a memory from so long ago. It wanders into my mind very often and I need to get it off of my chest. It is a story that my sisters know well, at least three of my sisters because my youngest sister was not yet born. My dad was home this particular morning and me, my twin sister Eileen and my younger sister Victoria were sitting at the breakfast table in our front room. The table was covered with food I remember. There were pancakes, home made cinnamon syrup, milk, juice and some bacon. It was a good morning, but our mom was not there. She wasn’t usually around when my dad was. It was mostly because she wanted our father to spend time with us, and she was also disgusted to be around him. He had lost many jobs and he couldn’t hold one for long. Every night, he stayed at the bar down the road from our house and drank, while our mother took care of us.
My mother told me once that she brought us all down to the infamous bar and asked our father to come home, because she needed help. He told her that he would be home soon and she could do nothing more but believe him and take us home. Once again, our father did not come home and she was very upset. At 1am, my father was still not home so she drove up to the bar and wrote: “ASSHOLE,” in red lipstick across his windshield and left. I like that story, because it makes me laugh to imagine my mother doing that. It is better to think about the funny things about it, then how much she may have been suffering when she did it. She had four daughters and was all alone, all day and night. It must have been torture to feel so unloved by your own husband. He picked a substance over us, but I have long ago forgiven him.
Back to my story, at the breakfast table. We had been at the breakfast table, enjoy our day, despite my fathers obvious aggravation at something. I remember that me and Victoria started fighting for a certain reason. I think we were fighting over something stupid, like who would get the last piece of bacon. I regretted fighting with her in a matter of seconds. I was three and Victoria was two years old. As we were bickering, my father jumped out of his chair, wrapped his large hand around Victoria’s small arm and yanked her out of her high chair violently. Me and Eileen watched him hold Victoria by the arm as he carried her to the front door. You need to know, that outside our front door is a wooden porch covered in splintering wood, some stairs made of stone and a long fall for a child. Our father opened the door and threw Victoria onto the porch as hard as he could. We watched her slide on her stomach across the wood and spin in a quick circle, before the door slammed behind her. Our view was cut off and I was horrified. I was scared and I knew that something bad had just happened. Our father sat down at the table and covered his face with his hands. We were dead silent. After a few minutes, he got up and left. We don’t know where he went, but we were happy he left. I remember going outside once I heard his noisy truck pull out of the driveway. He was gone and everything seemed okay again. The next thing I remember, is going outside to find Victoria. I went through a sliding glass door through my parents bedroom, down some wooden stairs and that is where I found my mother and Victoria. Eileen was beside me as we walked up to them.
My mother was sitting on the ground and Victoria was in her arms. Victoria is sobbing and so is my mother. Me and Eileen see them crying and we begin to cry too. I can not explain my emotions at this moment, because it troubled me so much. I was upset that Victoria had been thrown out our doorway, and that my dad had done it. I had not known that our father was coming down from drugs, because I did not know what drugs were or the effects. All the understood was that our morning had gone wrong, because of my actions. I had been fighting with Victoria, so I must have been the cause of my fathers anger. Because Victoria had been closer to my father, he had grabbed her first and it was all my fault. I was ashamed and I could only think that I had caused this pain. We were all crying now, because of me and I didn’t understand anything else. I only know now, that it was not my fault. My father had problems and we were only children who he took his troubles out on at times. It isn’t right and it isn’t fair, but it happens to many children. It happened to our family and it brings me pain, although I am grown now. That memory haunts me. I wish I could have been the hero in that moment, but I had felt like the villain instead.
The breakfast incident had not been the only one. The interesting thing about memories, is that we keep the ones that affect us the most, although they may be terrible. Bad experiences can teach us just as much as good ones, because we learn from feeling certain emotions and we learn from our reactions of things. I remember watching my father toss Eileen across the living room, and we were three still. I watched her body roll and smash into piles of toys and shoes that had cluttered the living room from our play time that afternoon. I remember feeling disturbed and scared as I watched her began to wail in pain and sorrow. It was around the same time when Victoria had been thrown out of the door also. I guess our father thought that he could get rid of his problems, by throwing them away. I had watched my twin sister and my younger sister get hurt in my childhood and I am glad that I never saw our youngest sister get hurt. I wish that I would have taken their places. I am the oldest and I wish I could have protected them. I wonder why I was never a target of his anger. Maybe I have distanced myself from our father, even as a child. I wasn't in arms reach, so I never got hurt.
After five years of marriage and too many chances given, my mother left our father. It was a very exciting and scary day, because I remember it perfectly. Our mother had just picked us up from the local pre-school and as soon as we walked into our house, our mother told us to get anything we wanted from the house, any toys or books, because we were leaving and not coming back. I didn't understand why we were leaving, but I really didn't want to leave behind any toys. So, me and my sisters scrambled to get anything we wanted and then we rushed out of the house and were buckled safely into the car. As we drove away, I looked at the big yellow house and watched our father scream at our mother from the driveway. He did not follow us, but he was holding a picture that Eillen had drawn. For Eileens age, she was a surprisingly wonderful artist and she had drawn our family, smiling and together. Just before we pulled onto the road and drifted away, he ripped the picture down the middle and screamed: "THIS IS WHAT YOUR DOING TO OUR FAMILY!" It was a disturbing sight, but I didn't understand why he was angry. We always went places, so I thought that we would be back. My mother had told the truth when she said that we were leaving and we have never looked back at the yellow house. I would miss the coyotes, the trees, the billions of blinking stars that can only be appriciated in the darkness of the country, and I would even miss the one blue christmas light that hung on the side of the house. Despite the strange things that happened during my time there, it was my first home and I loved it. Who can forget the place where they learned to laugh and love. Even if I learned to cry there too, I don't regret anything and I wouldn't want anything to change. Even though bad things happened, I wouldn't be who I am today if everything had gone according to plan. 2nd step to happiness; Accept the past, because we can not go back and change the events that transpired. It is better to accept the future you have and to make a life for yourself, without striving to change what will never be again. I am going to learn that, I MUST learn that. You can learn it with me too.
Bullies~
Step number 3, to being happy: Pity the bullies in your life.
What a strange word that is, Bullies, it is a word that means nothing to someone who has never been hurt because of the cruel actions of another. If you have experienced this before, then you know that pain behind the word. I am telling you another thing about myself and if you have not noticed yet, I dwell on things that cause me pain. I do not dwell because I can not move forward, but because by speaking about it, I can begin to move forward without thinking about it at all. I was not bullied much as a child, but as an adult I learned that I could be disliked, for being myself. Isn't that how all of these situations can be defined? Bullies prey on those that they believe are weaker. It is up to you, the victim, to show these people that you are not as they define. You are stronger then you believe and that you will not let them harm you.
Before I can tell you about the Bullies in my life, I must tell you about the love of my life. His name is Erick and we met in middle school. We met under the strangest circumstances and I am embarrased to admit how it all happened. On my first day of the 7th grade, me and my friend were wandering the new middle school and Lilly decided that it would be fun to play a prank on someone. I decided that I would follow her lead and have some fun. Being as young as we were, we didn't understand how foolish we were or that we might hurt someone's feelings. I volunteered to play this innocent prank and I searched the swarm of students for a victim. Being forever the coward, I wanted to choose someone that didn't look mean.
Out of the hundred of people in the crowd, I spotted one boy with a bright blue silk shirt, with my favorite super hero spider man plastered across it. I did not know this boy and his face gave me no sign that he was unkind or would become aggressive if I offended him, so I took a chance and played my prank. Again, remember that we were 11 years old and pathedically ridiculous things are hillarious in that exact moment in history. I ran up to the boy and shouted: "There is poop on your shoe!" The boy looked down expectantly at his shoe, and as he soon as he noticed there was nothing there, I finished off my wonderful prank by saying: "Oh, It must have hopped off!" I wish I could go back in time and tell Lilly, that this joke did not make sense and that I would be embarassed to write about it later. While me and Lilly were laughing as hard as we could about our successful prank, the boy had turned bright red. He put down his foot angrily and gave us a heart stopping glare that I would never forget. Our laughter dissapeared as soon as he stared at us in that way and I believed that I had chosen the wrong person to play a prank on. The boy walked away quickly and dissapeared into the crowd. The bell rang for our first class and we were happy with ourselves, despite his reaction. I didn't think I would ever see him again, but I was wrong.
I found out later that his name was Erick and he was 13 and I was 11. We had a history class together and I never noticed him, until a girl from my church group introduced us. He had told me later that he had thought I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and that he wished he had been brave enough to introduce himself. He had been the one to ask my friend to introduce us and I did not know this for a long time. In my eyes, I have never been beautiful. If I had ever liked a boy, they had never noticed me and if they did, it was because I was sitting next to the girl that they had a crush on. I wasn't slender and I could not afford fashionable clothes. Overall, I wasn't like the girls in my school or in my life, that I had always strived to be like. I thought that I was ugly, because I was not noticed. I had never felt beautiful, until Erick told me that I was attactive just the way I was. I had never imagined that he would like my inner beauty, just as much as my outer. I had been the defintion of "awkward looking teenager." But, doesn't every normal teenger go through this phase? At the time, I felt as if no one looked strange but me.
If you have ever felt that you didn't belong, then we are one in the same. I always felt as if I never fit anywhere. I wasn't like other people at my school. I didn't dress the same, talk the same or look the same. I wanted to blend in, but I always stood out. Why I strived to be the same, I will never know. If I had been like all the rest, then Erick may have never noticed me. Meeting Erick was also the first time that I realized that people were bullied, even in middle school. We were once walking around the field, as usual and a group of five or six boys started to follow us. I knew one of them, because we had went to elementary with me. He was an identical twin, but his brother wasn't with him today. The boys were laughing and joking, when suddenly one of them said: "HEY LOOK! Its Erick, the faggot. Why are you walking with a girl?" When I heard one of them say this, I was furious. I looked at Erick and watched him stare straight ahead and his gaze was fearless. They continued on with there teasing, but Erick never said a thing. I used to have a bad temper and I wasn't patient, so after about fifthteen minutes of this, I proceeded to swear like a sailor, in Ericks honor. They eventually got tired of hearing me swear and Erick not rsponding, so they just left. I was a little angry that Erick didn't stand up for himself, so I asked him why he didn't.
He looked deeply into my eyes and didn't smile as he said, "I've had enough bullies in my life to care about them. They are all cowards and liars." Then, he looked away from me and stared after the boys who had tried to bully him and said, "Why should I be upset, when I'm walking next to you?" My skin began to crawl when he spoke. I was surprised in a good way and that was when I began to notice that I like him. He was very different than anyone I had ever met. Erick wasn't a coward, he just didn't care about others opinions. I liked that a lot, because I cared too much about everyone elses opinions. I smiled and we kept on walking, in a peaceful silence, before starting up on a new conversation and have another great time.
Pep talks and rants~
If you are still here with me, then I applaude you. You want to hear more about my life? Or you just want to see the ending? I don't know how this will end or when. My life is continuing and changing everyday, so how can I predict that? Also, if you have not noticed my story is very random. My thoughts are constantly changing and the order in which life happens is sporadic. I am trying to infuse the aspect that, nothing is a set pattern. NOTHING. Everything is different, random, unpredictable and strange sometimes. I want to keep you on your toes and I hope you will enjoy the aspect, that you will always read something new.
The happiness project is a kind of journal for me. Have you noticed yet? I can feel that my honesty is helping me, slowly but surely. Who wants to read someone’s journal and know all of their secrets anyway? Nosy people? Mean people? Interested people or caring people? Is it all of the above or none? I would want to read someone journal just to figure out a mystery. You can’t be considered to be nosy though, if I am openly showing you this.
Today, My mind is a mess. Does this worry you? It worries me. I don’t worry too hard, because tomorrow I will feel as if the world in wrapped in my hands. I need some actual adventure in my life. I need to take a risk and when I mean take a risk, I don’t mean bungee jumping or smoking cigarettes. I do smoke cigarettes by the way, that is why I love the cover. Did you notice the beauty of the rainbow tinted smoke? By the way, there is nothing beautiful about smoking. It is fun at first, until you go without one for eight hours and turn on the world and everything you love as you have a withdrawal from the precious drug known as Nicotine. Smoking restricts the blood vessels, giving the smoker a sensation that they are calm. I am always nervous, so I believe that I am somehow helping myself. Ironic how wrong I am, right? I know what your going to say, it causes cancer. Apparently, so does that air, the microwave, the food we eat everyday and possible everything in the universe. I realize that I may be harming myself at the moment, but I promise I won’t smoke forever. I know, everyone says that. But, I am actually very serious. Smoking is a past time, a risky and smelly one, but a fun one none the less. I like to think that I look more seductive too. Have you ever seen a movie, where a beautiful girl is sitting in the rain, inhaling deeply from a cigarette and blowing out the smoke? The smoke rises into the air and spins and twirls away towards the bright stars and moon. It is often depicted as a good thing, but I am not encouraging any of you to do it. But, who isn’t a little curious about something they have never done before? I was and I started smoking. Like they say, curiosity killed the cat and that saying shouldn’t be taken lightly. That is my pep talk for the day! By the way, there are so many ways for our lives to end each day and to me, cigarette smoke is that last thing I am thinking about. If I'm having fun and not hurting anyone else, why does it matter?
It goes on and on~
Have you ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend? If you have had one, did you ever believe that they were the love of your life and you would be together forever? This actually happens VERY commonly. It is easy to get swept away into the moment and to believe that a person can do no harm to you and will be your perfect soulmate. People can do harm, because no one is perfect. But, if a person loves you they will never cause you harm that can leave a mental or physical scar. My friend though that she had found her soul mate. They had been eachothers first love and they met in middle school. They decided to get married when they were 18. So far, you are probably guessing that I am going to tell you a long drawn out story. You are also guessing that I am going to tell you to refrain from getting married at a young age. I am not here to tell you either of those, I am here to warn you that nothing is as it seems. You can not truly know a person, until you learn to communicate and trust eachother. If you can't communicate, then you can't work out problems or even to express anything effectively, espeically feelings that matter. If you can't be open and honest, you might as well quite now because your going downhill fast.
Back to my main pont I go. My friend got married at 18, because she thought that marriage would fix all of her problems. They felt as if it would bring them closer together. While she felt that it brought them closer together, he felt as if he was now suffocated by his vow. Her husband was a teenager and he wanted to be one. He wasn't ready to be a husband. He wanted to go "play," with his friends. They couldn't communicate or trust eachother, so slowly...everything fell a part. Something terrible happened to my friends family and it broke us all apart. Her brother, got hit by a car and was badly wounded. He was rushed to the hospital in another city and many time in the first few weeks, the doctors were sure that he would die. In these times of peril, people should stay together and to support eachother. If you have ever been faced with the reality that someone you love dearly will die, you know how essential it is to have a friend, lover, spouse or family member with you to get through the ordeal. My friend needed her husband at that time and one night a month after her brothers accident, she called me at four in the morning, sobbing hysterically. I was sure that something had happened to her brother, but instead she had told me that her husband had left her an hour earlier. He had told her that he wasn't happy, he didn't love her and that he couldn't handle the stress of the whole situaton. Just like that, he left and went to his Moms house. Wow, a stand up guy...dont' you think?
She had believed that he had been the love of her life. He had vowed to love her always, but instead he left when she needed him most. So, I am warning you to THINK before rushing into anything. You need to make SURE that you know who you are marrying. You can have NO doubts about the people you want to be involved with, because by the time you figure out that it is too late, you could all ready by hurt beyond repair.
I was at school a few days ago and a classmate of mine told me that she was engaged. I congradulated her and asked how long they had been dating. She told me that they were engaged and had been dating, for 3 MONTHS. Can someone tell me how you can love someone in 3 months, unless it is your child? I am not an expert in all things, but I know that it takes longer than 3 months to dedicate your whole life to a person. Think about it, very hard. To me, marriage is a vow that you will die for your spouse, protect them, love them, do ANYTHING for them, as long as it does not harm you. Love takes time and 3 months isn't enough to be sure.
Impressum
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.04.2013
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Widmung:
To the hero's who fight on and the villains who forgot they were hero's. We define who we will be tomorrow and I want to be the hero who believes that all is possible and not the Villain who believes that all is lost. Hold true to yourself and don't forget. The first step is remembering, but Don't forget yourself in the process.