I just want normal

I have an urge to throw my phone across the room because I don't want to hear you talking anymore. Aggressive? Me? Not usually. I'm just tired. And frustrated. Because I hate this game. And you know it. And yet you force me to participate.

I love that you are trying. Once upon a time you left it upon my shoulders alone, and refused your help. Now, I don't care. It's just a game to me, a cruel game in which I seemingly have many disadvantages, and I am trying to make you understand why I am just so sick of playing.

They may think I am ill, because my hands are shaking, my foot is tapping, and I can't sit still. Nervous energy, they call it. Mostly because you called and left me 3 long messages, and I don't have the time or mental capacity to deal with it right now.

I just want you to understand that what might be okay for you might not be fine for me. What might be 'good enough' for you is not acceptable to me. We are very different. You may not understand me but I am trying my best to explain.

And when I am tired and frustrating, I just stop talking. Because I can't explain myself. Sometimes it is just too hard. 

I just want normal. I want it so badly. Yes, normal has many definitions. Normal is subjective. But please, let me have my own form of normal. Let me define myself, my needs, my desires. Do not tell me what you think is good for me, because as well as you know me, I think I may know myself a little more.

You tell me it's okay. It's okay. You understand. I hope you do. But if not, you decided to respect me and not push it. And I appreciate that.

Because I just want you to understand my definition of normal.

In Debt We Trust

We watched this video in class. Quite long, but very informative. As you can see, the National debt has grown in the last few years by a few trillion. Most likely it will keep going up.

We discussed how credit card companies push credit on people that they know cannot afford to pay it off. I was shocked to hear how young college students around my age are 15-20 thousand dollars in debt. It baffles me. How can you spend money that you don't have?

I have seen both sides of the coin. Growing up, in my house I knew what the word 'creditor' meant when I was very little. They were the 'bad' people who wanted money that we didn't have. When we got caller id, we learned not to answer when they called.

Talking about money usually makes me very uncomfortable. I hate owing people money, I hate borrowing money from people. I usually don't have a problem lending people money, but I feel bad asking them to repay me.

Understandably, growing up in a household where money was tight, one can go one of two ways- either follow in their parents' footsteps, and spend what they don't have. Or make the smart choice and budget well.

Here's the other side of the coin- my grandparents are very smart with their money. I know that they bought a house straight out. They don't believe in mortgages.

Contrary to what the video portrays, no one was throwing credit cards at me. In fact, I was denied the first few times I applied. The reason- I had no credit. 'Derrrr'. How can I get a credit card to build up credit if no one will give me a credit card because I have no credit?

I do now have one credit card. I pay it off regularly. I don't treat it like fake money. I only use it if I know I can pay it off within the month. I B"H have a nice sum of money in savings. I am proud of myself.

My mother said it is a great thing that I am doing. I don't think so. I think it is just common sense.

Then again, common sense isn't all that common.

With G-d's help, I hope to never know what it is like to be in debt, or, as a classmate put it, to be so 'Po' that I can't even afford the o and r.

Pro·fan·i·ty

Old man,
Stop embarrassing yourself,
and us,
When you 'cuss'
like a drunkard.

You sound like a fool,
not cool,
We don't talk like that.
At least not I.
I try.

Do you want to fit in?
Though not a sin,
you sound like the 'younguns'
with their pants half off.
Makes me cringe.

Does self-respect
mean nothing anymore,
You have tenure,
and a position of authority,
Professor at a University.

Yet you curse like,
you are one of 'us'.
Except you are not.
And never will be.
And we don't talk like that.

Please stop.
Get your mouth out of the gutter,
and start talking
as expected of
a man of your stature.

As old as
my grandparents,
and yet you curse like
a bum
from the slums.

And it doesn't make me
want to listen to you
very much.
No sir.
It does not.

When you curse like that.

Hangover

I think I'm drunk.
Not on happiness, or love.
No, none of those for me.
Not this year anyway.

I think I may be drunk.
As I watch the road blur in front of me.
Is the road wet?
Or are those tears in my eyes?

And why do I cry?
And why?
As the anger pours forth from me,
And I feel the wrath.

At Haman's name,
I stamp my feet,
And think of all the evil in the world,
And wish it to be gone.

Yes, even the evil that has touched me,
And I think that must be selfish,
But I want so very badly,
To be rid of these demons once and for all.

I think I may be drunk,
The lively music still playing in my head,
The gorgeous faces of the children,
The sticky cotton candy.

And the crumbs, oh the hamentashen crumbs.
They are everywhere.
Even on the dance floor.
And as I show my moves, the room blurs.

I wonder if this blackness
Which engulfs me on the
Supposedly happiest day of the year,
Can be drowned out in any way.

Will alcohol take off the edge?
Will it make the darkness that much lesser?
Will the evil in the world be gone,
along with my senses?

The music blasts in the car,
And I can't hear my own voice,
And that is probably for the best,
Because I think I may be screaming.

And as the barrier looms ever closer,
And I realize I may hit it,
I know it would be of my own doing,
Because alas, I am stone cold sober.

It started with a whisper...

It always starts with just a rug. And then it grows into a whole house.

I like buying things for other people. It makes them feel good, and consequently, I feel good about it. But I am really not that great at remembering birthdays or special days. Once in awhile I will get a burst of inspiration, a thought that I should send someone a gift, or a card. A wedding present, or maybe just money, since I am horrible at gift ideas. How much money should I give? Is it too late to give someone a wedding check 4 years later? Welcome to my brain.

Once I decide to do something nice... then I start thinking about every single person that I know whom I haven't sent a card or bought a gift for in awhile. I am an extremist. Either all or nothing. Everyone, or (usually) no one. So instead of sending just one Shaloch manos to one friend, the list grows bigger and bigger, more elaborate, more people.

Hmmm... should I give that lady who invited me to her Shabbos meal that one time? My first grade teacher? The crossing guard?

If I think to send my grandmother a birthday card, then it reminds me of all the relatives I have neglected over the years.

So I will either be sending many gifts with notes saying, "10 years too late but... Happy Birthday!".

Or I will save myself a headache and do nothing.

Happy Purim, and if you get a Shaloch Manos from me, just know that you hold a special place in my heart.

My (everything home-made even the frosting) Shaloch Manos:

Depth perception

When your hand misses the light switch by a few feet...

When your pen somehow never makes it to your desk...

When you almost walk into a door because it looked closer than it was...

When your brain is tired you cannot accurately perceive depth.

When you are tired it is hard to translate your thoughts into words.

When you are tired the world seems to move in slow motion.

When you are tired your reflexes are slow.

Your guard is down.

Something that used to bother you may not even receive a passing thought.

Something that shouldn't bother you makes you so mad.

You can't explain it. The second you wake up and look at your clock and realize you are an hour late for work...

The whole day is thrown off.

When the person drinking coffee says 'I'm so tired', and you do not ever drink coffee nor can you drink coffee since it is a fast day and you just want to tell them- "You don't know what tired is".

When you have an urge to cry for no reason- I think it's time to get some sleep.

No good deed goes... unrewarded?

Good job, little boys and girls. Put away your toys, don't fight with your siblings, respect your parents, don't steal.

Don't steal. We are taught that at a young age. One of the commandments in Jewish law is to return a lost object that you found to its rightful owner. The law is so intricate, in fact, that if you see a loaf of bread lying in the street, you can not just pass it by, you must take it and find its owner. Only if you are certain that the owner has given up all hope of ever finding the lost item may you keep it.

Read this article about a brother and sister who found a large sum of money on the street, and returned it to its rightful owner. Clap clap clap. Yay them. Except, they weren't little kids. They were 21, and 25 years old. So what is so special about doing the right thing?

They were rewarded, they were praised, they were offered jobs and given $200 gift cards each, and an anonymous person bought the girl a laptop. All for doing something that is morally correct, and halchically required. The children's father even said that he 'was "in awe" of what they did.' Why? Why is it so shocking that 2 people would do the right thing instead of, say, keeping the money for themselves?

I think I will go around doing good deeds just to get noticed. And hey, a new laptop wouldn't hurt.

A tiny sliver of truth

I wondered when the words would dry up,
the page would go blank,
and my mind would stop thinking,
my heart would stop dreaming.

I wondered when I'd freeze up in fear,
paralyzed, unable to move.
Unaware, of the world out there,
shrunken to my tiny reality.

I hold his little body close to me,
as he drifts off to sleep.
I gasp, and he jumps,
startled awake.

I rock him gently and pat his back,
and tell him that everything will be okay,
that we are going to be just fine.
I know he believes me.

I believe it too.
I know I will be okay.
I know, because here I am,
years later, strong as ever, and still going.

I know, because every time life kicked me down,
I got right back up,
and laughed in its cruel face,
And steeled myself even more.

But sometimes,
I don't want to be just okay anymore.
Sometimes,
I don't want to be just fine.

Sometimes,
I want to scream to the world,
how I'm feeling,
Spray it on the wall for all to see.

Sometimes,
I want to get mad at how things turned out,
except I'm not really sure
where to address my anger.

I will be okay.
I will be just fine.
Sometimes,
that's a bitter pill to swallow.

Be Mine

Like putty in my hands
I move you, shape you
into something
that works for me.

I want you to be
my every dream
the one who completes me. 
And sets me free.

But we
were never meant
to be together
you and I.

We try
over and over again
but then
we destroy each other.

Together
we are good.
And bad.
We make each other mad.

I'm sad
knowing that we
will never be friends
again.

But when
time moves on
and I'm able to see
more clearly.

I know that the best thing for me
is to let you go.
We both know
that we hurt each other.

Like a mother
who watches her child
walk away.
It's okay.

I know now
that without me
you will shine.
We will both be fine.

Because you were never meant to be Mine.

Commit to the moment

I rush home from work, checking my phone for the time every step of the way. I arrive home, out of breath. 5:30 on the dot. Good timing. I quickly say hello to my roommate, asking her about her day. Sit down to a quick dinner, relishing every second I have to breath.

5:50. Got to go. Darting through foot traffic, trying to get around the slow walkers without appearing to be rude. I rush towards the Subway, and seeing the throng of people walking up the steps towards me, I know I've just missed the train. Oh well. On the days when I get on just at the last minute, I feel good about it, like leaving that extra minute early really helped.

This is my life now. I work full time, and I go to school full time. I'm exhausted all the time. I have no time. You see the pattern?

I love it, and I'm so proud of myself for what I'm doing. On my way to school after a long tiring day of work, I grumble in my head. Why am I doing this, I'm so tired, I don't want to drag myself out again. But then I tell myself, just do it. Just walk. Just go. Just this one class. Just these 2 hours. Then you will be able to go home and go to sleep.

I was never one for commitment. I dreaded the question, "So what are you doing in the summer? Or next year?" Who knows that far in advance. Certainly not I. I take it day by day. Semester by semester. And slowly, I'm doing it.

When your life is so full thank G-d, and you don't have a lot of time, you find yourself cherishing the time that you do have. The twenty minutes that I have from when I get home from work until I leave for school, feels like such a long time, because I can breath and relax a bit. My one night off a week feels like a vacation. My weekends stretch out forever.

The key is to commit to each moment. Nobody said anything about a lifetime. Whatever you are doing, whenever you are doing it, be THERE and only there. Forget about everything else. Forget about what you have to do tonight, tomorrow, next week. Forget about the phone call you must make, the report you have to do. Be in the moment and live in the moment, and make it the best moment you can.

I'm working towards a degree, and I hope to finish it, however long it takes. I see it as investing in my future. I know there's a chance I may never 'make it', but right here right now in this moment, I'm doing it. And that feels really good.

Tznius at the Grammys

We've all heard it for years: "Frum girls these days have a problem with tznius. We need to crack down on them now, to fix the problem. Skirts too short, legs too bare, clothes too tight, etc".

We all thought, 'ya ya, okay, so we can be better, but at least we don't dress like them'- them being 'the outside world'. We don't dress like girls looking for a good time, we don't show all we've got.

But the world finally got the memo- tznius is not just for frum girls anymore. Sit up and take notice.

In a memo sent out to the guests of this years Grammy awards ceremony, there are now strict dress codes in place. In short, the memo says what we all already know- that your private parts need to be kept private. As they say, common sense isn't all that common.

The website that leaked the memo, Deadline.com wrote: "Isn’t it pointless for CBS Standard And Practice to issue this ‘Wardrobe Advisory’ in advance of the 55th Annual Grammys broadcast this Sunday when nudity is the norm at that awards show?"

This is true. Who will actually abide by this? Will there be peer pressure to follow the rules, or peer pressure to defy the rules? After the Grammy awards on Sunday, there were countless articles about the stars that 'didn't get the memo', and showed too much flesh.

Do they enjoy showing off their private body, or are they so used to the pressure of competing, that when it comes down to it- they simply have a problem covering up?

I think we can all take a lesson from this when the world sits up and says- enough is enough. It is time to enforce the rules.

Palestinian Rights

You have the basic human right
To live
And breath
And exist,
As it is God's will.

You do not
Have the right
To instill fear in our hearts
Every day
That our brothers and sisters might not make it out alive.

You do not
Have the right
To hurt and kill us at every turn.

You do not 
Have the right
To kidnap our soldiers,
And hold them for years like animals,
While you sit comfortably in our jails like kings.

You do not
Have the right
To take our provisions,
Our food and medicine, given freely,
And use it to make yourselves stronger
To kill us some more.

You do not 
Have the right
To call yourselves victims,
While you victimize us every day.

You do not
Have the right
To equality,
When you behave like animals.

You do not
Have the right
To protest at the injustice being done to you,
When you have no idea
Of what is just and right.

You do not
Have the right
To a land that you simply wish
To destroy.

If these are the rights
Of which you speak,
Then no,
You do not
Have any rights
At all.

"If I should have a daughter"

A friend sent me this video, and I really enjoyed it. Below is also the transcript of this poem by Sarah Kay called "If I should have a daughter".

Transcript "If I should have a daughter":

If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. 

And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." 

And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. 

There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. 

"And, baby," I'll tell her, don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." 

But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. 

Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix. But that's what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. 

I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. 

That there'll be days like this. ♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫ When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. 

And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. 

You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. 

And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. 

And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

"Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." 

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. 

Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. 

And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

It's never too late

Tonight is the auspicious day of Yud Shvat. The day that the Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson) took over the leadership from his father-in-law, the previous Rebbe. It is a very special day for Chabad Chassidim, and all Jews. (As always, read more about it here at Chabad.org.)

The Rebbe's leadership lasts until today. Even though we cannot physically see him, we know that he is still here with us spiritually, guiding us and teaching us how to live our lives.

One of the main missions started by the Rebbe was shlichus, the idea of 'Ufaratzta'- going OUT into the world, finding Jews, igniting their neshamas, teaching them about yidishkeit and bringing them closer to Torah and hashem.

(Video) The Rebbe's mission statement, which his father-in-law (The Frierdiker Rebbe) said in the name of the Alter Rebbe, is that there are three things: Love of G-d, Love of Torah, and Love of your fellow Jew. These three are all one, and cannot be separated. And because they are all one essence, when you grasp a part of the essence, you are simultaneously grasping all of it. One cannot exist without the other two. Merely Love of G-d by itself will not last, without love of Torah and love of your fellow Jew.

When the Rebbe accepted the leadership, he said clearly, don't think that you have hired me to do the job for you, and now you can idly enjoy your life. This is a joint mission- mine and yours. Meaning, the Rebbe is here to help us and guide us in our work here on earth, but not to take the burden from us. You must carry out the mission which the Rebbe entrusted to you completely with body and soul. You have to do the work and get the job done. You must transform your worldliness and material passions and elevate them to the realm of kedusha.

The Frierdiker Rebbe said, that when the Mishkan was built in the dessert, it could have been built from private individual funds. But all Jews had the opportunity to contribute. It was the same when building the Bais Hamikdash. Money was collected from every tribe, even though Dovid Hamelech could have covered the expenses himself. When the Frierdiker Rebbe commissioned 'the sefer Torah of Moshiach', he did not want it to be his own personal endeavor, but rather a group effort. He wanted all Jews to participate.

And so it is with the final mission which the Frierdiker Rebbe (and consequently our Rebbe) entrusted to us- to make this world a dwelling place for Hashem. It is a beautiful thing. The Rebbe gave us a gift by allowing us to participate in this final effort. He did not take all responsibility, he entrusted us with the mission of bringing Moshiach.

And one beautiful thing that the Rebbe lived by was- "S'iz nita kein farfallen"- it is never too late. Not for any Jew. It is never too late to start doing good, to start learning and growing. It is never too late and you can never have gone so far that you couldn't find your way home.

And the Rebbe, with all the light he brought into this world, will be there, guiding you and lighting the way.

Get off my Efinn' property

One, two, three,
Get off my property.
You are a bully.
But you won't get to me.

Your words are mean.
The world's gone green.
Let's keep it clean.
Don't make a scene.

Get a move on,
Let's go.
Everybody say
Hey ho.

The party won't start
Till you move on out.
You're not wanted here
No doubt.

Free speech man,
That's cool.
But on my land,
I rule.

I say what I want,
Don't care what you think.
Don't speak your mind.
You need a shrink.

The word you're looking for is
Craaazy.
Or as they say, "Cray Cray"
You are Insanity.

Your opinions,
Mean naught
Don't care for
Your thoughts.

You think that
You're right.
No need to start
A fight.

You don't like what I say,
Don't matter to me.
I don't insult you
When I disagree.

You want to argue?
But don't throw a fit.
You think I'm wrong?
I don't give a ----

Conspiracy theory?

This video made me very sad and disgusted. Why do people feel the need to bring politics into EVERYTHING? 26 people died, and sick delusional people have the audacity to claim that it was a hoax by the government to assert gun control? Are you freakin insane???

I don't recommend watching this video. It just made me mad. People can make up whatever they want. You think 9/11 was staged too? You think the government killed thousands of people in order to 'control us' more?

Do you think the Holocaust didn't happen? Where was the proof in that? Maybe 6 million Jews didn't die. You start off a video by claiming that you do not claim the shooting did not take place. Then what's your point? That these people never existed? That no one died? That they were all actors?

How far are you going to take it? Paranoid people get locked up because they think that everyone is out to get them. What do you gain by claiming that the Government is out to get us?

Will you go so far as to sully the memory of the 26 people who died? Will you go so far as to say that some of them may not have died? That they were all actors? That this was entirely staged?

Bring all the evidence you want. You are making this as political as you claim the government is doing. You think the government is using this as an excuse to assert gun control? All you are doing is using a horrific tragedy to blame the government for whatever faults you see in them.

Let the deceased rest in peace, and take your insanity elsewhere.

Sinking

All I've heard all day is drilling. They are doing construction in my office. Everyone is walking around with face masks. The dust is thick. A guy came by our office and said, "I think I just breathed in half your floor". That's how bad it is.

It started with a small hole. I don't know how there came to be a hole in the floor. But they just covered it up with a board and said don't go near it.

Today a construction crew came to fix the hole. But it didn't look like they were fixing it. The whole day they kept drilling and drilling and the hole kept getting bigger and bigger. Is that how you fix a hole? By making it bigger?

The hole is so big now you can't even walk directly across the floor, you need to make a roundabout route to get to the other side of the office. I can still hear the drill in my head pounding away. Every time I breath in I expect to get a mouthful of dust.

We have 'holes' in life too. Problems, sometimes of our own making, and sometimes they just came to be. We need to fix them somehow. By making the hole bigger?

When a person is sick, sometimes they need to get sicker before they can get better.

I don't know where this analogy is going. All I know is that there is a huge hole in our floor.

And I wonder if, sometimes the hole gets too big that you just can't fix it.

Liar Liar

They said I didn't know how to lie.

They said I told the truth even when it got me in trouble.

I took pride in that.

But we all know that lies start small.

Call it... half truths.

Bluffs.

We do them every day.

When someone asks you how you are and you say you are feeling fine when really-
you are not.

When someone offers you their snack and you say you're not hungry when you are.

We do it all the time and we think it's okay because- we are trying to protect someone.

These lies roll off your tongue every day.

Sometimes others ask you to lie for them.

When someone calls- tell them I'm not here.

Call work and tell them I'm sick.

These little lies... do you still cringe inside when you say them?

Do you still feel bad for deceiving someone?

When you stop feeling bad, that is when you know you've crossed to the other side.

If you say the lies long enough... will you start believing them?

They come so easily now.

After awhile, they sound like truths even in your own head.

Liar liar.

They've got you.

Friend or Foe?

Idle men on the sidewalk are a cause for alarm. Shuffling feet, mismatched shoes. Just standing around, watching.

I walk by nervously and repeat the only thing that comes to mind- 'Ulechol benei Yisrael lo yecheratz-kelev leshono'. (The quote you say when a dog barks at you.)

Over and over again I repeat it, walking by briskly, holding on tightly to my purse, looking straight ahead and not at him. Heart beating fast.

And then as I pass by he says, "Hello girlfriend. You get home safely you hear."

Ironically, this is from the man I thought was going to kill me.

I guess sometimes the ones you think will harm you turn out to be your ally.

The shape of an L on her forehead

Who ever thinks about high school once it's over? Throw up your hat at graduation, move on and never look back. Alumni? Reunions? Who cares. Life gets in the way. School. Marriage. Kids. Important things. Most people stay in touch with only a handful of people from high school. People make friends with their 'best friends for life' from seminary, college, etc. High school is rarely thought about, if ever.

I happen to have had a decent relationship with my high school principals, and I am still close to a few girls from high school. I met my 'inner circle' friends in seminary. But I still chat with girls from high school now and again. When someone came up with an idea for an Alumni newsletter, I said sure why not. I even volunteered to be class head, which means it is my job to get the mazal tov's and news and any submissions from my former classmates.

The problem is, my class is not interested. I get it. Our high school was small. How many times a month are girls having babies and getting married? Yes it is a beautiful idea to keep in touch, however I understand why girls would not be interested in reading it or hearing about it.

So why do I feel like a loser for trying? When girls email to say 'please stop including me in this, it's really annoying' I know it's dumb to take it personally. But then I get to thinking, am I the only one doing this because, unlike the majority of my classmates I am still single? Does one have anything to do with the other? So basically I'm one of the last of my classmates not married. Of the married girls, most of them already have babies. Yay.

I'm not bitter or jealous. I know those are things you say when you really are feeling those emotions. But I am genuinely happy for every single one of my classmates. It is just hard to feel like I have too much free time, what with no husband or baby. Another girl thanked me for taking the time to let them know what is going on. Maybe I'm just projecting. But if they don't care, then why should I?

I could write a lame poem. I can laugh and brush it off. I can excuse myself, defend myself, pretend that it doesn't bother me. But sometimes straight-forward honesty works best.

I was never going to be one of those girls. I don't discuss dating, I don't bemoan my 'single fate'. I write because I genuinely enjoy writing. Is it stupid that I'm bothered because my class doesn't care about the alumni newsletter? Or does the fact that they don't care bother me because I'm thinking too much into it?

I get it. You've moved on. I just wish that I could feel like I've moved on too.