I Imagine

I imagine what life will be like when I'm older, when I know what I want to do with my life, when I can buy a red futon and dark coffee because why the hell not, it's what I want to do and I'll do it because I can. I imagine what I'll be like, what He (because there's always a He with me) will be like, if maybe I already know who He is. Sometimes I hope I do, but then it snaps and falls and I desperately hope I don't.

But back to imagining.

I imagine what it will be like to have to work through the summer and not get a nice break every few months and to not be able to sit out by the pool all day. When I imagine that, I cry and I start to think that maybe Xeno had the right idea when he said he didn't intend to live past his 20s.

I imagine what it will be like to be fucked. To clutch a sweaty body, to be held tightly as... well, we all know how that works.

I imagine decorating my apartment. I imagine the little red futon and the shitty coffee maker. I imagine the view out over my little private Hell: suburbia. And I don't imagine that I'll mind, because it will be my place to call my own for as long as I keep paying the rent, my refuge from the real world.


I imagine... I imagine being just like I am now, only older. I imagine meeting, meeting a guy and thinking, "Oh my God, he's so amazing," and then, not falling, but absolutely crashing into love and then getting so worked up and analyzing what he says and doesn't say, and oh no we're still in the friend zone, and hating myself for being so inadequate that I plummet back out of love, only to discover later that maybe had I made the right move at the right time, everything would have turned out perfect. And I imagine wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I managed to mess it up like that.


I imagine sitting, alone but for a bottle, crying myself to sleep because nothing is turning out the way I want it to. I imagine reaching into my wallet in the checkout lane and realizing I don't have enough to pay for all these groceries and having to walk, ashamed, back and downsize the milk to a half-gallon and put back the Nutella and switch the cereal out for oatmeal. God, I hate oatmeal.


I imagine my dead-end job, drudgery of the worst sort.


I imagine not just not-fearing death, but welcoming it, crying out for it.


I imagine a boy with blue hair and a military jacket with peace symbols sewn on. I imagine getting offered a cigarette and politely declining. I imagine trading conspiracy theories, reminiscing about the "good old days," those days we never really thought we'd smile at. I imagine a slower development of emotional attachment, something genuine and fragile, but slowly strengthening.

I imagine a little house with a white couch. I imagine dying my hair blond for the hell of it, not caring about the looks I get or the snide remarks my mother aims toward me. I imagine getting a kitten for Christmas, a little Siamese baby. I imagine it nuzzling my hand.

I imagine a wood floor, a large mirror leaned against the wall. I imagine my feet are encased in ballet shoes and I'm teaching my four-year-old what I remember from my dance classes all those years ago. She doesn't like it. She wants to play basketball, Mommy. I imagine that would kill me.

I imagine now a beauty with flaming red hair and emerald eyes. She's forcing me against the wall, asking what the hell is wrong with me that I'm living like this. Her freckles stand out behind her badly-done fake tan.

I imagine my hair in a bun, brown again, the bland brown eyeshadow and mascara and not-quite-red lipstick. I imagine the pantsuit and the barely-there, 1.5-inch heels. I imagine that I've succumbed to life, that I haven't worn a skirt or dress in years. I imagine that I've missed so many soccer games my daughter hates me, and the worst part is that I don't care any more because the Prozac has finally kicked in.

I imagine sipping the coffee behind my desk at 10:30 PM, ignoring the frantic calls from my husband, the voicemails asking where I am. I imagine wondering if I should even go home. I practically live at the office anyways.

And then I imagine imagining running away. And I do it. I just up and fucking get on a plane and get out. Yeah, it's cruel, but they'll live without me for a few weeks. It won't be permanent, it'll just be until I get to be myself again. Then I can come home, claim temporary insanity, and everything will be fine again. Except it won't.

I wish when I imagine things I could see happy endings.

7 People Who Have Changed My Life

There are a lot of people who change your life every day. That obnoxious guy in third period made you roll your eyes, the stranger who almost ran over you made you give him the bird, and the cashier/bagger duo at Publix made you laugh at their antics.

However, these aren't the people I'm talking about. Although they influence you in some minuscule way or other, they don't have a lasting impression on you (or at least, they usually don't). No, in this post, I'm going to focus on the people who have changed the way I see myself and the world.

1. Katie Collins has made me closer to God. Whatever feelings of irritation I originally felt that she was so religious are now gone, permanently replaces with a deep feeling of gratitude. Without her, I would never have felt as close to God as I do now. We may have a few fuzzy differences in opinion when it comes to worship, prayer, and the like, but that doesn't matter in the long run: without her, I would never have even believed in God, and would have committed suicide last November when I was convinced there was nobody in the who gave a flying fuck about me. I thank Katie for assuring me that there's much more than a crowd of people who care about me: I've got the big guy in the sky on my side.

2. Ryan Philipp has made me love history. History's one of my passions now, but I would probably still think of it as boring if it weren't for Coach Phil. The first day of class, I thought, "Now this guy really loves history." Well, yeah, you say. He's a history teacher, for Christ's sake. Still, though, I was surprised by the way Phil (as we students affectionately call him) managed to be so enthusiastic about what I had, until that point, thought of as the one subject where even the teachers seem to have a bit of distaste for it. I became determined to figure out why this man was so interested in history, and I'm glad to say that I found some amazing things in my textbook. (Well, okay, in the lecture notes, seeing as we never used our textbook, but whatever.)

3. Gregory Onision has made me vegetarian. He was the first one to convince me that eating animals isn't only immoral, it's also not healthy. Through his videos on YouTube, I discovered things- over the course of a few days- it would have taken me months to find out any other way. His videos encompass a wide range of other things, too, so even when I'm not in the mood to be re-lectured on how meat isn't just murder, it's suicide, I can still have a challenging three and a half minutes, thinking logically about what he's said. Onision isn't preaching, he's informing. (Thank Merlin for that.)

4. Amy Gleaves, whether or not she meant to, made my life a living hell for a few months. I burned myself with matches and lighters (no scars are left from that, thank God), I couldn't concentrate on anything, and I had to call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline four times over the course of three weeks. I finally found a way to literally move away from the situation, but being around her still hurts. I don't think this woman will ever fully understand the extent of the damage and havoc her presence wreaked on my body. I don't blame her 100%, but I know I will never- no matter what anyone says- be able to see her as an innocent bystander when it comes to my mental health.

5. Regina Spektor- yes, the singer- has inspired me to write music. I am teaching myself to play piano, and it's going pretty well, if I do say so myself. I'm in the process of adding music to my previously vocals-only songs. The amazing ReSpekt is not the only person responsible for my not-incredibly-sudden foray into the world of music, but she's definitely played a major role. Her music is very unique, and since I first heard a song by her, I've wanted to sound as great as she does (with my own style, of course).

6. Steve Reed gave me discipline. He is, quite possibly, the best damn English teacher the world has ever seen. I mean, this guy means business! Mr. Reed (no nicknames from students for this guy!) is a hardcore disciplinarian, and definitely one to correct your word usage. He's well-known for saying things like, "No, you did not accidentally leave your homework in your locker. You did not trip, fall, and leave it in your locker, did you? No, you mistakenly left it. Now go get it. Do it again and you'll have lunch detention." Everyone in my class had a love-hate relationship with the old man. We loved him and his life lessons (and he could ramble on about some life lessons, let me tell ya), but hated him once we got in trouble. Typical eighth graders. Anyways, the guy made me understand that putting in effort is, you know, a good thing.

7. Mary Frances Rudy has provided me with more cultural experiences than I ever thought possible. With my Mimi, I've been swimming with dolphins and stingrays, met some extremely interesting people (not nearly as interesting as the stingrays, though!), and wandered aimlessly through art galleries on cruise ships. This woman is a piece of work, for sure, but she's also an incredible person. Thanks to her, I've done things many people may never have the chance to do- and I've also learned not to take such things for granted. I squeeze the most I can out of every trip I go on with her, every play I see.

There you have it. Those people have had profound effects on my life in general; I didn't bother listing the obvious (my mum and dad for making it all possible, hehe... oh God, the mental images... ew). I certainly hope you've enjoyed this weird little insight into my world. I've said some things that I haven't really ever told anyone- how odd that the first entity I share them with should be the internet.

This post required quite a bit of soul-searching, let me tell you. I mean, there are tons of people I know have changed me- that wasn't the hard bit. The difficult part was figuring out how they'd changed me. I mean, seriously! You ever tried to think about it?