An Open Letter To The Friends Who Don't Try

An Open Letter To The Friends Who Don't Try

I am starting to get really tired of always having to text first and initiate plans.

I think in college a lot of people fall in to this mentality that the more friends you have, the better. However, I find myself being quite the opposite. I like having my close-knit group of friends and being able to go to them for anything. With that said, it does get frustrating when I find myself always being the one to initiate plans with certain people I am friends with. Not only that, but I also find that if I do not text them, I will not hear from them for several weeks.

Now, at this point, you might be thinking that these people I am referring to just don’t really want to be friends with me. Honestly, I have had that thought once or twice as well. However, contrary to popular belief, these are the same people that when I see them we act like we are best friends; we vent to each other, laugh continuously and share some amazing memories together. When we are together, everything is awesome and as hard as it is to believe, the feelings are genuine. So, did I just pick friends that are bad communicators? Or simply really busy? I am honestly not sure. Something I do know is I feel like a lot of people have either been in this situation or been on the other end. Thus, I want to give some advice to those on the other end.

Being someone’s friend is way more than just posting Instagram pictures with them and sending them well wishes on their birthday. It is about being there for that person and letting the know that you care about them. It is about replying to their text messages and phone calls in a timely fashion and recognizing that it’s not cool to continuously use the excuse that you are busy. We are all in college and we are all busy.

Likewise, part of being someone’s friend is making them a priority. I am not saying place your friends on top of school or work because that is not necessarily very wise. I am saying that when school and work are over, going on your phone and checking in on someone you claim that you care about is important. If there is one thing that I have learned about relationships it is that they are never successful if they are one sided.

If there is one thing that I want you to take away from this article, it is that if you truly care about someone and if you truly want them in your life in the long run, you have to put the effort in to maintain your relationship with them. You have to make them a priority and, at some point, recognize where you might have made mistakes throughout your relationship. Otherwise, those people, like me, who are continuously reaching out and trying to make your relationship work, will stop one day. And honestly, writing that last line makes me sad because I really do want to make it work.

Cover Image Credit: SheKnows

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3 Reasons Why Step Dads Are Super Dads


I often hear a lot of people complaining about their step-parents and wondering why they think that they have any authority over them. Although I know that everyone has different situations, I will be the first to admit that I am beyond blessed to have a step dad. Yep, I said it. My life wouldn't be the same that it is not without him in it. Let me tell you why I think step dads are the greatest things since sliced bread.

1. They will do anything for you, literally.

My stepdad has done any and every thing for me. From when I was little until now. He was and still is my go-to. If I was hungry, he would get me food. If something was broken, he would fix it. If I wanted something, he would normally always find a way to get it. He didn't spoil me (just sometimes), but he would make sure that I was always taken care of.

SEE ALSO: The Thank You That Step-Parents Deserve

2. Life lessons.

Yup, the tough one. My stepdad has taught me things that I would have never figured out on my own. He has stood beside me through every mistake. He has been there to pick me up when I am down. My stepdad is like the book of knowledge: crazy hormonal teenage edition. Boy problems? He would probably make me feel better. He just always seemed to know what to say. I think that the most important lesson that I have learned from my stepdad is: to never give up. My stepdad has been through three cycles of leukemia. He is now in remission, yay!! But, I never heard him complain. I never heard him worry and I never saw him feeling sorry for himself. Through you, I found strength.

3. He loved me as his own.

The big one, the one that may seem impossible to some step parents. My stepdad is not actually my stepdad, but rather my dad. I will never have enough words to explain how grateful I am for this man, which is why I am attempting to write this right now. It takes a special kind of human to love another as if they are their own. There had never been times where I didn't think that my dad wouldn't be there for me. It was like I always knew he would be. He introduces me as his daughter, and he is my dad. I wouldn't have it any other way. You were able to show me what family is.

So, dad... thanks. Thanks for being you. Thanks for being awesome. Thanks for being strong. Thanks for loving me. Thanks for loving my mom. Thanks for giving me a wonderful little sister. Thanks for being someone that I can count on. Thanks for being my dad.

I love you!

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Batter Up

Because someone needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat a woman.


I have this memory from when I was younger,

I must have been six, maybe seven? An age

When you can remember, but not quite

Understand. I remember the landline

Ringing sometime in the middle

Of the night in my grandmother's small,

But adequate house. I had been sleeping,

Tucked under a shield of satin covers,

My grandmother next to me, blanketless,

And stiff, on the very edge of the queen mattress

Like she was anticipating some sort of disaster.

It wasn't the phone that pulled me from my sleep,

It was my grandmother's instant jerk, her eyes

Flipping open quicker than a light switch,

The mattress springing back up, adjusting

To the new lightness as she fled the room. My waking

Was soft like a song. Slow and humane.

My eyes adjusting to the dark, my ears absorbing the ringing,

My mind reminding itself that I was at my grandmother's house.

Then, the ringing stopped;

Abrupt, like a disarmed fire alarm.

It was just a drill, I thought.

But, then I heard the mumbling

From behind the door, panicked mumbling.

Rapid, like gunfire. My grandmother's Rs

Rolling down the hallway and under the door crack.

She only spoke Spanish when she was angry.

The call ended, my grandmother returned to the room,

Wrapped me in a blanket, and carried me into the night.

She buckled me into the backseat of her Toyota and said,

We were going to Auntie Mandy's house because someone

Needed to teach her rotten boyfriend a lesson about how to treat

A woman.

When we arrived at the house, we found the front door

Wide open, the house lights spilling out onto the porch.

A truck, I had seen once before, was parked a foot away

From the front door, aggressive. The truck had trampled

Over the dandelions and daisies, which lay wounded

In the front yard. A scene that begged for investigation.

My grandmother told me to stay put in my seat.

I watched as she walked to the back of the car, her normally pretty

Face turned straight, looked masculine. I watched as she pulled

Something wooden out of her trunk, then in her feline walk,

Approached the house. She turned to me, and I saw the

Baseball bat, immense in her female hands.

I slouched in my seat, the window above my head.

I never saw her go into the house.

I don't remember how long I sat,

Until the red and blue lights came.

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