To the People Who Live There Now

To the People Who Live There Now

I guess it’s no longer my house, it’s yours, but it’ll always be mine

It will always be my house no matter what I'm supposed to write in the address box but I guess it’s no longer my house, it’s yours, but it’ll always be mine

When you walk inside the house from the door that connects with the garage you can see a bright blue bedroom on the other end of the house. That's where I left tears stained into the floor when the boy I liked turned out to like my best friend instead. It’s the room where I feel asleep with the biggest smile on my face because I knew when I woke up the next morning the living room would be filled with presents. The room where at some times was so dirty there was a path from the door to my bed because the struggle of finding the perfect outfit every morning resulted in wrinkled clean clothes covering the floor.

The bathroom down the hall has a giant cabinet under the sinks. My mom claimed that we were supposed to keep towels there but more often than not you could find my little brother there trying to scare first thing in the morning while you’re brushing your teeth.

The bright orange room attached to the house probably still echoes of laughter from late nights with my best friends. Sleeping on the pull out couch become almost a weekly routine sometimes during the summer. There used to be a trampoline in the backyard, you could even find us out there at one or two in the morning if we were bored enough, regardless of how many layers we had to put on to stay warm.

The front steps are missing a railing because my best friend ran into them while playing kickball in the front lawn. Standing there is where I had my first kiss. There were two railings at the time and it’s a good thing or I would have probably fallen into the flower bed.

I’m surprised the corner of the kitchen counter doesn’t have a permanent imprint of my butt because I spent hours sitting there having life talks with my mom as she cooked dinner.

The living room was painted yellow and pink about 8 years ago, it took my mom almost a week to finish it all, I remember her yelling at me for walking under the ladder saying I was going to have seven years of bad luck (I didn’t, but that would explain A LOT).

There was once a treadmill in the corner of the living room which was used for about two weeks for exercise. The next five years it collected dust and was never touched again.

It’s the same room where not a year later I hugged my sobbing brother because he found out grandma went to heaven.

And not two months after that did I hold that same brother, in the same room as he screamed at my parents telling them he just wanted to say goodbye to his best friend. We were laying on a dog bed because when we came home from school we learned we no longer had a use for the bed as we were now without any pets.

It’s the house where on any given Sunday morning you could find all the windows open and my mom blasting Sweet Caroline from the kitchen while cleaning.

The house where my dad would come home from work to find all the doors open with the A/C blasting and he'd yell at us because we didn’t live in a barn.

My parents room was the place to be when we were younger. But it was also the place where we came home from vacation to a half eaten rabbit on the floor. The room where every morning at 6:48 my dad was standing at the window hitting the automatic start to his car because winter in Upstate NY is brutal.

The driveway is cracked all over but has been written in chalk up and down the entire stretch.

All these memories, good, bad, ugly, insignificant at the time they were happening but I hold so true to my heart now.

So blast Sweet Caroline, sit on the corner of the kitchen counter, use every color of chalk in the box, play catch in the backyard with your dog, kiss on the front steps, leave the windows and doors open, laugh until you cry, cry until your stomach hurts. Live and embrace life.

I know I don’t live there anymore, so all I ask is enjoy that house. It may be small and far from town. But it’s home. Treat it well and love every second living there.

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To The Boy Who Will Love Me Next

If you can't understand these few things, leave before things get too involved

To the boy that will love me next, I need you to know and understand things about me and my past. The things I have been though not only have shaped the person I’ve become, but also sometimes controls my life. In the past I’ve been used, abused, and taken for granted, and I want something real this time. The guys before you were just boys; they didn’t know how to treat me until it was too late. They didn’t understand how to love me, until I broke my own heart. Before you truly decide to love me I want you to understand these things.

When I tell you something, please listen.

I’m my own person, I want to be loved a certain way. If I ask you to come over and watch movies with me please do it, if I ask for you to leave me alone for a few hours because it’s a girl’s night please do it. I don’t just say things to hear my own voice, I say things to you because it’s important to my life and the way I want to be loved. I’m not a needy person when it comes to being loved and cared for, but I do ask for you to do the small things that I am say.

Forgive my past.

My past is not a pretty brick road, it is a highway that has a bunch of potholes and cracks in it. I have a lot of baggage, and most of it you won’t understand. But don’t let my past decided whether you want to love me or not. My past has helped form who I am today, but it does not define who I am. My past experiences might try and make an appearance every once in a while, but I will not go back to that person I once was, I will not return to all that hurt I once went though. When I say those things, I’m telling the complete and honest truth. I relive my past every day, somethings haunt me and somethings are good reminds. But for you to love me, I need you to accept my past, present and future.

I’m just another bro to the other guys.

I have always hung out with boys, I don’t fit in with the girl groups. I have 10 close girlfriends, but the majority of my friends are guy, but don’t let this scare you. If I wanted to be with one of my guy friends I would already be with him, and if you haven’t noticed I don’t want them because I’m with you. I will not lose my friendships with all my guy friends to be able to stay with you. I will not cut off ties because you don’t like my guy friends. I have lost too many buddies because of my ex-boyfriends and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. If you don’t like how many guy friends I have you can leave now. Don’t bother trying to date me if you can accept the fact I’m just another bro.

I might be a badass, but I actually have a big heart.

To a lot of people I come off to be a very crazy and wild girl. I will agree I can be crazy and wild, but I’m more than that. I’m independent, caring, responsible, understanding, forgiving, and so such more type of woman. Many people think that I’m a badass because I don’t take any negatively from anyone. Just like we learned when we were younger, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” Most people can’t do that in today’s world, so I stick up for myself and my friends. I don’t care what anyone thinks about me, or their option on how I live my life. The only thing I care about is being able to make myself happy. Even though I’m an independent woman, understand that I do have a big heart. Honesty when I truly care for someone I will do just about anything they ask, but don’t take advantage of this. Once you take advantage of this part of me, all respect will be lost for you.

I’m hard to love.

Sometimes I want to be cuddle and get attention, and sometimes I don’t want you to talk to me for a couple hours. Sometimes I want you to take me out for a nice meal, but sometimes I want a home cooked meal. Every day is different for me, sometimes I change my mind every hour. My mood swings are terrible on certain days, and on those days you should probably just ignore me. I’m not easy to love, so you’ll either be willing to find a way to love me, or you’ll walk out like so many others have.

I’m scared.

I’m scared to love someone again. I’ve been hurt, heartbroken, and beat to the ground in my past relationships. I want to believe you are different, I want to hope things will truly work out, but every relationship has always ended up the same way. I’m scared to trust someone, put my whole heart into them, just to be left and heartbroken again. I sick and tired of putting my whole body and soul into someone for them to just leave when it is convenient for them. If you want to love me, understand it won’t be easy for me to love you back.

When “I’m done.”

When I say “I’m done” I honestly don’t mean that I’m done. When I say that it means I need and want you to fight for me, show me why you want to be with me. I need you to prove that I’m worth it and there’s no one else but me. If I was truly done, I would just walk away, and not come back. So if I ever tell you, “I’m done,” tell me all the reasons why I’m truly not done.

For the boy who will love me next, the work is cut out for you, you just have to be willing to do it. I’m not like other girls, I am my own person, and I will need to be treated as such. For the boy that will love me next, don’t bother with me unless you really want to be with me. I don’t have time to waste on you if you aren’t going to try and make something out of us. To the boy who will love me next, the last thing I would like to say is good luck, I have faith in you.

Cover Image Credit: Danielle Balint

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Summer = Rest?

Sometimes it feels as if we need a vacation... from our vacation.


Ah summer: Popsicles and sun burns, mixed with fresh-squeezed lemonade that local kids are pandering to make enough money for Roman candles and Black Cats. The crack of the bat can be heard among the simmering charcoal grills and Troy-bilts humming through the ever-lasting sun. School is out and children are wild. It's a paradise.

Or is it?

But after countless sports camps and tournaments, other camps, vacations, school (?) events, traveling teams, VBS, summer seems to have been sucked fun-free.

Maybe it's Hollywood and Harper Lee's fault for giving us this utopian view of what summer should look and feel like (I'm looking at you Sandlot). But how can we really rest this summer? Because everyone needs some actual rest, even adults.

First thing is do NOT pack your summer full. Say no to some things. Coaches and Families can expect too much and it's okay to say no to them. You have to. There is no time for kids to be kids anymore.

Work can take a backseat. Vacations need to be taken. Families need to reconnect.

And for all my super-scheduled people out there, please PLEASE don't schedule out your vacation. Just enjoy it.

Another bit of advice would be to put away the technology and spend some time outside. When was the last time you tried to catch lightning bugs? Or went for a swim? Or listened to birds on your front porch?

I may sound like I have an old soul, but I really feel like we have lost this connection to the outside world. Summer is all about getting a farmer's tan and getting stung once or twice. I can guarantee you that's some of the best therapy in the world.

Maybe this sounds all over the place. Maybe this sounds like me ranting. And it probably is.

But I'm telling you that this stuff matters. Don't let summer whiz by and you arrive in August more drained that you were in May. Enjoy this time with family and friends.

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