you broke me

...

take the time, to write your story below or DM me.

> i am a few days sixteen.

> i have been a follower of Jesus since the age of eight.

> i have a dog (Sadie) and a kitten (Sheba).

> i adore reading (Marissa Meyer and Madeleine L’Engle are my favourite authors).

> my earbuds are just another appendage of mine, a part of me.

> i am likely either listening to TØP, ABBA, Switchfoot, Oasis, Eloise, some film/musical soundtrack, or a new artist from my Spotify recommended (typically rock— classic and alternative).

> i am decent at ukulele and learning guitar. my, i wish i could sing, though.

> i love the shows “Psych”, “Gilmore Girls”, “Full House”, “The Office”, + “Drake and Josh”.

> i have seen the movie “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” eighteen times.

> i hate the film “The Princess Bride”.

> i would much rather converse via paper letters than text/call/facetime/DM.

> i am a vegetarian (more about where the meat comes from than it simply being meat. commercial farming is... yikes.).

> it bothers me how many people say they are accepting of all, but if they meet someone who disagrees with an opinion of theirs, they “cancel” them. to love/accept and to agree are TWO SEPARATE THINGS (check out @zoe_christina ’s piece titled “yes,”)

>i am terrified of... well, most everything.

> i eat my Oreos by dropping them in a glass of milk and letting them sit ’til they’re all goopy and then i eat them with a spoon :p

> cold showers are better than hot showers, in my opinion.

> i really like windows.

> SOMEONE TELL ME WHY THE WORD “BEAN” IS SO FUNNY (but also, like, so cute)

> i am a hopeless romantic, only trapped within the body of a socially awkward scaredy-cat.

> i have a strange obsession with floating on my back in an empty pool.

> the stars never fail to steal my breath. they are so beautiful and endlessly fascinating.

> one of my favourite memories is shag-dancing in the summer rain.

> i DESPISE cliques/stereotypes/aesthetics (i.e. soft girls, e-girls, vsco girls, cottagecore, skater bois, jocks, etc. ---- OK, unless they are fictional. i mean, come on? peter kavinsky?!). you don’t have to fit some silly label! just be you, in your beautiful imperfection.

> i tend to speak a great deal, despite the fact that i hate the sound of my own voice and i rarely say things worth hearing. this is one of the reasons i adore writing: i can pick and polish every word, every letter, before anyone even catches a glimpse.

> i am an introvert, all the way; although, many people misunderstand the definition of introvert versus extrovert. by saying i am an introvert, i mean social interactions exhaust me and being alone is my time to recharge. plus, i just feel heaps more comfortable alone.

> i am PUMPED for season four of “Stranger Things.” anyone else?

> i lived in Africa for a year of my life.

> raspberries are my favourite fruit.

> i tend to get bored very quickly. sports, friends, hobbies. this makes me hesitant to date; i am afraid i will get bored and hurt their feelings.

> i am an enneagram four. not sure what wing... i will have to explore that further.

> i’m in Gryffindor (what’s a scaredy-cat like me doing in Gryffindor? ask the sorting hat.)

> i have been playing “Among Us” a ton lately, so if you ever want to play, PM me a code and you will make my week.

> i feel anxious almost all of the time. i need to see a therapist but, of course, that makes me very anxious.

> i don’t see myself getting married in the future.

> watching “Ocean’s 8” makes me want to be a con-woman.

> most people see me as soft, a goody-goody, and it makes me want to scream!!!1!!1

> tight clothes make me uncomfy.

> you guys are some of my favourite human beings on this planet.

> poetry makes up a great portion of my heart (surprise?).

> i say “dude” a lot.

> i wish i was funny.

> i am running out of things to say about myself.

*gasps for air*

thanks for making it this far, friends.

i love you, but Jesus’ love for you far surpasses even that.

xxx

Loneliness,

lethal loveliness,

love-lit lilies and

lavish lovers

lingering in a

little labyrinth.

Opal offerings,

obscure outlines,

obsolete obligations and

ominous, overcompensating organisms

offering outdated opinions,

obscenely obtuse.

Venom,

virulent vexes,

vehement voices, and

vain, valiant volunteers

vanquishing veneers of vulnerability and virtue, veering to

vermillion vindictiveness.

Euphoric evenings,

earthly enthusiasm,

earnest enrapture and

effusive, elated evenings

eluding ego-centric, enervating examples,

effortlessly elated.

Mother--matron of mornings,

manners, methods, and mavericks.

Overcomer of obstacles, oligarchs,

and ornery offspring,

optimum overachiever.

More than mere mortal,

mover of the masses,

model for millions,

mother of mine.

M-O-M.

5-31-2020

Hi Dad,

Do you know that I love you? Of course, I tell you often, but has it just become a series of words said to go along with “good-bye,” to end a conversation or a potentially upsetting email? Is it just a reminder to soften the blow of not liking you very much anymore?

Sure, we disagree on many things, but still, you’re my father and I love you. I’ve always felt that I understood you, but lately, I’m not so sure. I never imagined that we would diverge on issues of compassion and ethics. That our very impressions of reality would differ so greatly, it would appear we abide in separate worlds.

You’re not a monster—just a fallible human, like the rest of us. Still, I have to wonder why the apple fell so far from the tree. Then I remember, the apple didn’t fall that far. The tree moved. And it continues to move, further and further away.

I miss you, Dad. I miss the days when I could ask you for an explanation or for your opinion and I would learn new things. We didn’t always agree, but I always felt like you listened to my views and presented the opposing point of view in a logical and persuasive way. Sometimes, we’d debate an issue, and at a later point, I’d hear you arguing my point against someone else.

I vividly recall a debate we had when I was in high school. I argued, for all of the usual reasons, that marijuana should be legal, while you argued it should not. We finished at an impasse, which I counted as a win because you hadn’t convinced me to change my mind. About a week later, I overheard you talking to my cousin at our Thanksgiving get together, but this time you posited that marijuana should be legal, while he argued it should not. Indignant, I interrupted to accuse you of using my arguments. You winked and laughed...and continued to use my claims to support your new point of view. When I told Mom, she also laughed, explaining that you just liked arguing. What I heard was, you liked challenging expectations and exploring different points of view.

Now, I’m afraid I may have been wrong. You don’t relish the opportunity to hear opposing points of view. You look for circumstances to shoehorn your talking points into conversations, to attempt to show others you know more by repeating the phrases you’ve allowed to be programmed into your head by your daily viewing habits.

We don’t have productive debates anymore. Now, I can hear the evidence of the unoriginality of your thoughts, your repetition of talking points on Fox “news” that you try to pass off as your own. I believe you used to think for yourself, but now I wonder if I was just too young to recognize that you were repeating the opinions of others. I no longer recognize any of the critical thinking skills I thought you were passing on to me.

I know that people are complicated creatures with multiple facets to their personalities, and often their actions contradict their beliefs. I know you to be a generous, affectionate, fun-loving man who easily makes friends and feels comfortable around all different kinds of people. I also know you blindly support the policies of a racist president and GOP completely lacking in compassion and morals. I want to believe that you haven’t always been this way, that at one time, you would have noticed the hypocrisy in what they say and what they do. I want to blame it on brainwashing and aging, and those factors may be to blame, but sometimes I wonder. Do I, too, have the potential to turn out like you?

I think this is what scares me more than anything.

With love, from your daughter.