Monthly Archives: July 2012


Sometimes you just need to be sad. Sometimes you need to cry, even if you don’t have a real reason. Sometimes you both need to and have a right to eat every single piece or chocolate or fried food in sight. Tonight is one of those nights, and sometimes you just need to blog about them.

Well, you see, this time last week, I was ecstatic. I was happy with where I was in life and with my relationships and I thought I was this completely different being than I presently am. Why might you ask? Because I had a flirtatious boy expressing legitimate interest in me.

I know, I know. It’s pathetic, but it’s true. So, if you’re laughing at me, and thanking the heavens that you aren’t as desperate or sad as I am, please, stop reading. Because I’m about to vent my self-diagnosed psychobabble all over this post, and it’s intended to help me, not act as a source for your mockery.

I validate myself with men. Its disgusting, horrible and every other negative adjective in Webster’s Dictionary, but it’s me. I cannot be happy alone, although I like to convince myself that I can. And if, for some reason, a man I’m with decides he isn’t interested in me, what do I do? Well, you see, I eat a lot. I cry a lot. I read quotes, listen to “girl power” music, and oh, THROW MYSELF AT THEM.

It’s repulsive. I cannot stomach the feeling of rejection. I think that by saying something along the lines of “no strings attached” or “one last time,” that I will magically win them back. That I will suddenly become everything they want, when in fact I’m probably everything that they actually don’t want. Cool, Rachel. Cool.

What I hate most about this horrid problem I have? That I know it’s wrong, I know it won’t work, I know that in the long run it will be so much worse for me, but that I CAN’T STOP.  Something is wrong, you see, with my distorted internal psyche, and I need nothing but to solve this complex relationship killing disorder I have, so that maybe one day I might end up in a stable relationship where someone actually wants to be with me. Doubtful, but a girl can dream, right?

We’ll start attempting to fix this issue with the next boy, because I just penned a traditional Rachel-esque text message hoping that “just one more” will fix everything. It won’t, I’ll end up more hurt,but hey, here’s hoping that something good comes from it this time, fingers crossed and all.

I am intelligent. I am driven. I have such an amazing future in store for myself, but it all seems to take a backseat to actually being wanted. I don’t even want to be in a relationship, deep down. I just want them to want me. But even deeper down, I want to be happy being alone. I want to be happy spending the night in my own bed. I want to be happy not being right for someone. I want to, just for once, not throw myself into someone else’s arms to attempt to fix myself.

Someone Else’s Arms


My Selfish Years


“Your 20s are your “selfish” years. Its a decade to immerse yourself in every single thing possible. Be selfish with your time, and all the aspects with you. Tinker with shit, travel, explore, love a lot, love a little, and never touch the ground.” — Kyoko Escamilla.


This evening in my late night internet adventures, I stumbled across this quote. One that I think suits my current state of mind exceptionally well. You see, I spent the first twenty years of my life doing a lot of different things for a lot of different people. I was living under my parent’s rule, I was in high school, et cetera. I was doing all of the things that you do prior to the age of twenty. And thus, I thought I knew myself. Oh, how I was wrong.

See, a lot of things started changing this past year for my life, and albeit I was 19 when I started the process, but regardless. At this point, I was finally doing things for me. I was becoming happy for me. And I decided that the next decade of my life is completely about doing just that and making myself the happiest and best me I’ve ever been.

Now, anyone who follows this blog is up to date on everything I’ve been changing in the past six months or so; that being said, I’ll refrain from the boring details. But I’ll share with you the fun things I’ve done for myself to kick of what shall be the best decade of my life.

I’ve lost ten pounds. I got my belly button pierced. (I would literally argue that is the best decision I’ve ever made). I’m lightening my hair — who knows, maybe I really will become a blonde! I’m dating, for me! And hey, you know, those nice guys I complained about for so long? Well, turns out they aren’t that bad — alright, alright, I’m still not interested in flowers and romance…but not being cheated on or degraded is nice! I’m sort of into the cougar scene. (Maybe one day there will be an update on that). I eat healthy, because my body is mine, one hundred percent mine, and why would I want to fill it with shit?!

It’s really not much so far, but I tell you, I really, really have enjoyed the start of this decade. It’s kind of nice to have figured out the big stuff before I turned twenty, and now its just all about fun and being happy. So, here’s to my happiness. Here’s to my twenties. Here’s to my selfish years, I can’t wait to see what they bring.