I Chose You

It’s almost midnight. I currently have a 103 degree fever (that’s what the thermometer says, stupid piece of glass), and well, you know it: I can’t sleep. Why?

Because there’s something I have to say.

I mean, it’s nothing very new or something that you haven’t already heard over a million times before, but this post goes out to all those people who think that pain and loss and longing can be avoided by not thinking about it. No, sugar. You can’t avoid pain and loss and longing just by telling yourself not to think about it. It’s like trying not to look at the sun, but still seeing it anyway.

Just ten minutes ago, I was watching videos on YouTube, and I re-watched the Teens react to TFIOS trailer. As all of you may know by now if you’ve been around long enough, I’m a TFIOS lover. Especially the cheesy-but-very-true lines that Augustus says. So here I am, lying sick in bed, watching the video, and suddenly I hear a line that I’ve heard at least ten zillion times before, that brought on this post:  you don’t get to choose whether you get hurt in this world, but you do have some say in who hurts you. 

And honestly? I like my choices. I do. Each one of them.

Don’t worry about me getting hurt, because honey, nobody can do that to anyone (let alone me) unless they’re allowed. And if you make me cry, you big idiot, it’s not because you’re the Incredible Hulk or James Lafferty as Nathan Scott.

It’s because I chose you to be able to do that.

I chose you, okay? Okay.

This one goes out to all my friends, my mother, and to each one in general who worries about me, or thinks I’m this mad woman who’s not capable of biting back tears. I can keep myself from crying, and I don’t have to prove that to anyone. But like I often say, why lock your words inside of you when there are people who’re willing to listen? It’s not about how you tell it, or who you tell it to. In the end, once it gets out, it’s just the story that matters.

I’m going to be honest with you: I’ve never been called brave. I’ve been called all sorts of names–sweet, angry, bitter, helpful etc etc–but never brave. Nobody on God’s green earth thinks that I’m strong, or brave, or even sane. Trust me, I’ve been called crazy by so many people that now I’m almost starting to believe it. Even Nano says I’m crazy (but I tell her that’s why she’s my best friend, so that probably doesn’t count).

But you know what? I’m proud of it. I’m not saying I won’t correct the stuff that needs to be corrected, but at the same time, I think a little bit of crazy is what our lives need. At least, mine does.

On a totally unrelated note, I found this picture today:

It says it all, loud and clear. Just by trying to avoid thinking about something, or telling yourself that it’s better this way, you don’t actually do anything that’s even remotely useful to you. It’s like lying to yourself about Santa Claus being real.

So, you know, do whatever makes you happy. Think about all those things that you want, dream about them, and then when you’re awake, go get them. Go take that first step. Dial a number. Write a letter. Go talk to that person.

Listen to everyone, but do exactly what your heart says, because at the end of the day, the fate of your heart is your choice, and nobody else gets a vote.

Until next time.





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