To the girl in the mirror,

I looked into your eyes, they wouldn't even blink. They only stared back, neither of our stares could be lost, I move one way, and you move right back.

I don't like looking at you. I can hardly stand to be around you. I hear other people call you pretty; you only shrug them off, wondering to yourself why they think that. I hear other people tell you that you are one of a kind, like no one else, then I see you run into a corner and wish you were like everyone else, to the point that you could go into a crowded room and get lost in the faces. Be hidden from the world, be alone, for just a minute.

I've seen you cry. You try to act all tough on the outside. As if nothing could ever hurt you. But then you run into your room and close the door, or when no one's there, then you cry. I see your tears, I can feel them like my own, warm and cold, at the same time. Your smile went away, as if it was never there.

I've seen you try your hardest, but it never seems enough. I've heard the other people laugh at you, for the little things you do. I've seen them tell you that you need to change. I've heard them nag that you need to be different. I've seen them not accept you for you, but always wanting more, as if the way you are isn't good enough.

I've seen the pain they have caused you; now you think you aren't good enough, and when you think no one is watching, you pull out your razor and make the pain they cause go away. But it doesn't go away, you only made it worse. The blood and physical part couldn't replace the emotional. Only made you more confused.

You were screaming for help, but no one heard a word. I wanted to reach to you and grab your hand, but I couldn't find it. It just wasn't there. You didn't want to be helped.

Inside, you sat in pain, with a smile on your face. You were living a fake life, how they wanted you to be. Your smile couldn't fool me, though; I knew just how you felt. And as the years go on, you're just getting worse.

They didn't know what was wrong; they decided you were just shy, that's why you never talked. They only saw what they wanted to, a happy fifteen-year-old girl, and your pain wasn't what they wanted to see. So they never saw it coming the way that I could.

I hated the way you were. I, too, wanted you to change. I wanted you to be normal, I wanted you to be something else, I wanted you to look like someone else, I wanted you to be different, I wanted you to be happy, I wanted you out of pain. I really, really hated you, and I still dread to look you in the eye.

And all the pain you go through, I have to live it, too. And I know the only reason, I realized as I sit here, looking in the mirror, is because I am you.

15 years old. -sigh-

It's like yesterday was just a blink away.

Yet, you can only cope with the future when you finally admit to your past.

xo.

I find myself as I grow older, reflecting back in the years of my younger life.

On occasion, I find myself faced with the opportunities to sometimes "relive" events (or activities) that I once enjoyed. You know, drinking, concerts, sleeping, just overall being a person rather than someone else's mother. Honestly, when you're someone's mother you seem to loose yourself and feel your only purpose is to make sure that your child's life is on track (not that I'm complaining, but perhaps so you can understand). When I look at all of this from a sphere of life, I wonder where the line is drawn?

I mean, I would have once killed to have gotten to spend an entire day outdoors with loud music, accessible alcohol and the following night free to do whatever. And what do I wish of? Nothing, because honestly... the idea of shoving myself in a pit of bodily chaos (keep in mind I'm a whooping like 90lbs and would be smashed between more than likely males 4x my size), nonetheless, it just doesn't appeal to me anymore. Neither does alcohol. Or really, staying out all night. Or really doing anything.

When I try to accept it in my head that when I get these opportunities I'm having the chance to "time travel" and return to my younger, teen years... I can't. I keep thinking "but I'm NOT 19 anymore". Have I grown up? Have I just accepted life for what it is? Have I decided I'd rather spend the roughly 24 hours away from my anti-sleep child catching up on my sleep?

And then I get to thinking, when do we decide that we ARE ready to grow up? What makes us "grown up"?

I know plenty of people that are parents, becoming parents, want to be parents... whatever... and their lives go unaltered. The time away from their child(ren) aren't spent wondering what their child(ren) are doing or wondering, but spent as a blast to the past of fond memories of being 18 again. But the thing is, they aren't. And I can't help but wonder if I'm being the bad person because I can't enjoy the "me" time (because I honestly can't), and a part of me envies the people that can separate the portions of their lives to enjoy the more simple moments of no real responsibility, if only for a short time.

It sucks really... because I get torn between what I want to do and what I feel like I should do. The guilt, yet the joy... and I feel like I shouldn't spend a moment away from what my life is now because there's nothing else that could compare or be as wonderful as that.

I've decided that whenever I'm low on blog material, I can just go visit the McDonald's near Kody's house.

You see, as many of you have heard, roughly a month or so ago, I found myself at that McDonald's ordering myself a small vanilla iced coffee. The conversation went as follows:

Me: Hello, could I please get a small vanilla iced coffee?
Girl in Drive-Thru: Yeah, uh, what flavor did you want that vanilla iced coffee? We have regular, vanilla and hazelnut.

Now, I know generally speaking, I'm not a genius, there are millions and millions of people probably smarter than me, but this girl... was not one. I couldn't even had made that up if I wanted to and I didn't even know where to start. There were so many places I could have gone with it, that I mumbled off "vanilla?" and drive up to collect my drink. It was horrible. Horrible I tell you.

So fast foward to last week.

D has decided that as far as food goes, you can live purely on chips, ice cream, chocolate and cheeseburgers... so on our way home from Kody's house, we stopped by this same Mcdonald's. I pull up to the line, waited about 10 minutes (couldn't figure out why TWO cars were taking ten minutes - it was one of those two-laners). Finally I pull up the window, finally, and I swear it went like this:

Dude in Drive-Thru: Yeah, whaddawant?
Me: Uhm... a medium mocha and a cheeseburger with ketchup only...
(I'm addicted to those damn mochas, no joke)
Dude: ... whatdyouwantwithoutketchup?
Me: Um... a cheeseburger?

It took about five minutes of this before he finally got my entire order correct. I'm not even kidding here, five minutes for two items. -sigh-

I won't even continue on with the window experience...

My entire faith in McDonald's is slowly dropping. One day it took ten minutes for them to get me my order, I even had to remind them what I had (I'm so about to make that one work in my advantage) and I had to question if she remembered to throw straws in there. Now it's called a drive-thru for a reason, no? If I wanted to sit, park and wait, I'd go in to eat. I understand that on occassion, things go wrong... but this is your job, your trade, do it well or go work at Best Buy.

ah, I guess there's no reason to question why people think Americans are dumb, no?