It’s not about other people. It’s about me. All of my conflicts are created and reflected because of what happened to me. Not anyone else’s, because they experienced their lives in completely different ways. My goal is to self improve, and understand that I don’t need to be like them, because a specific circumstance will seem as if it “commonly happens that way”.

My insecurities and behavioral tendencies happen to be stemming from the way that I was raised. To begin with, my fear and inability to speak to men comes from not having a brother figure throughout my formative years. The only side I saw of relationships between men and women was through television, my absent brother and abusive father. It was well until 5th grade that things were seen as normal in my perspective as a child, having been unaware of other circumstances around me. But after puberty, my family disbanded, which was a very formative period of my life which has effected my behavior until today.

I have not been able to see relationships as healthy because I have always been surrounded by an unwelcoming family. Being afraid of the violence and discomfort, the dishonestly, has made me view relationships as always dysfunctional. Thus, making me unable to speak to men or have healthy relationships with them.

Also, I was never considered attractive nor approachable in middle school or high school, I am insecure about my looks that creates jealousy between many

Life is like a box of.. miscellaneous items that I have to eventually throw out.

June 3rd marked the end of my high school endeavors. Through hormonal outbursts and parental drama, I have finally made it out of the world of 6:45 AM bus rides and shameful existential crises. Growing up in Pennsylvania, my world consists of 2 AM Wawa runs and mass text messages asking who’s parents are out of the house. One could say that my life is boring, and I would certainly have to agree with him or her. My friends and I sat in the corner of the hallway talking about our futures, where we were planning to go and what we were planning to do, but we all know too well how nobody can ever predict shit. 

My senior year was spent working 2 jobs, busing tables and being hit on by 35 year old waiters. Receiving that lousy paycheck definitely made the experience worth it, because I knew that if I didn’t, I would be sitting in my bed watching Breaking Bad and Adventure Time, smoking shitty weed out my childhood bedroom window. But unfortunately I accomplished both goals. 

5 months of no weekends off and 6 hours a day of running up and down the stairs of the shittiest upscale-Spanish-Mexican restaurant in the whole Main Line, I came up with an activity to distract myself of the cold winter and hot ex-boyfriend who was fucking every girl that he possibly could. I vowed to myself that I would drive across America. To some, this may come easy. But with no car, no money, and no friends that were interested in suicide, I was determined to meet my goal. 

To be continued…