HAILEYANELA

Today marks 10 years since my dad died, an entire decade gone in the blink of an eye. I felt the sadness would last forever alongside people's awkward and embarrassed apologies. Yet somewhere along the way the sorrow was replaced with nostalgia and then with reminiscence. So rather than mope over my inevitable loss I complied a list of the top 10 lessons I've learned in the last 10 years. 1. Life isn't all lemons or lemonade. It's in my lowest lows that I swear my life is cruel, that the Fates have it out for me and I'll never know happiness. It's a tart lemon sans sugar and I'm bitterly gritting my teeth. I've had to accept that not every lemon will bear lemonade, & THAT'S OKAY. Without those painful lows I'd never appreciate my greatest highs. Biting the lemon makes the lemonade sweeter. 2. Lonely & Alone Being alone doesn't directly translate to loneliness. Learn to be comfortable without the presence of othe...

you know that lack of feeling? that completely desolate moment where indifference reigns king? I had that. It was at precisely 12:19 this morning. It came with the chime of a text message. The sender was one who's status in my books had been troubled to say the least. once upon a time that sender had emoticons decorating their name, as time ebbed on the emojis were erased and the name was left naked; finally when the name itself was too much to bear a single syllable word took it's place entirely. i remember when the chime would come and with it excitement and lip-bitten smiles. i remember when those smiles faded to furrowed brows and a grimace of disdain and I remember when that was all replaced with clenched fists, & silence was the only response you'd get from me. I had been a passenger aboard your emotionally traumatic train, all the while you had never told me the destination. and then came the exhaustion. I never knew that exhaustion and defeat would...

recently on Pinterest I've been seein g the "open when letters" pin float around. The idea is to write letters to your significant other, and on the envelopes title them "open when you're sad", "open when you're mad at me", "open when you miss me", "open when you're in the mood for a taco ", etc... okay just kidding on that last one. But seriously when my roommates and I first saw it we all let out a collective and appreciate "aweeeee" and our hands fluttered to our chest due to the sudden catching of feels. The second time I saw it, it was still cute. But the third time I saw it all I could think of was how much time and effort would have had to gone into that arduous letter-writing task. How many 'I love yous' and 'remember whens' can you put into a stack of letters before you've run out of words to say? Obviously this is why I'm not in a relationship because I rarely know what to...

*please note that this was written for my english class, where our professor wanted us to take an emotion and make it tangible and realistic for our audience. I embraced the challenge of the poem, and wrote what I believe to be an equivalent of depression. do not be alarmed, this isn't based off personal experience* The cover of night and the shadows envelope me. Physically and emotionally I belong locked in a closet, which was exactly where I sat. The hospitable darkness and gloom didn't object my arrival one bit.   I wanted to cling to the shadows; I was trying to embrace a passionate emotion, but was it the wrong one? My hands were preoccupied anyways.   A dull set of crafting scissors in one shaking hand. The other fisted up tight, tight enough to feel my nails biting my palm. The pain of an edgeless blade is not crisp and clear; it’s thick with jagged edges. Any attempt at not crying was pointless and futile. I didn't cry for the smooth under...

When I was still in high school and I imagined college, the first thing that came to mind was: freedom. No curfew, living by my own rules, and no "checking in". I was pumped to be my own guardian and ruler... Ok I know that sounds a bit exaggerative, but I was so ready to fly from my nest and not look back. And let's be real now, my first year of college was all that and more. I had amazing roommates, a comfortable apartment complex, and the only time I was "checking in" was to make sure, what we had dubbed the "couch boat", was clear for a cuddling sesh. I had gotten use to the semi-restrictive rules that our school Honor Code enforced, but regardless I felt like I was living the dream. I felt a sense of independence and liberty that I had never experienced when I had lived at home. The feeling had given me a glimpse of what life after college offered, a look into the near future where I could come home to MY apartment where I made MY own rules... Bu...

Our society puts high importance and an even higher price tag on beauty. We are told and reminded from adolescence that we need to fit a specific mold and form to be considered “beautiful”; and if we don’t fit society’s norms and expectations than we are not up to par to the glamorous models plastered on magazines and newsstands on every corner. But since we have grown up and matured in this society we already believe that we need to meet their vain requirements to ever succeed in this competitive, aggressive, and sex oriented world. We should meet those standards because, let’s be real, pretty people always make it further in the job field.   Women are hired based on their looks, how white their teeth are, how smooth and poreless their face appears, how small and non-existent their waste is, rather than the job requirements. Sure they may possess some sort of stipulations that helped them to land that position, but if a heavy-set woman with frizzy hair and bad skin came in with...