xo

One time I was playing the sims and I wanted to make me and mike but I wanted to make us separately and have us meet. But when I moved into my house, I had this sexy ass neighbor. I figured I could have a fling with him and break it off and get with Mike later but then the neighbors kid got attached to me and I couldn’t just end it when I was so close to his daughter. I really cared about him too.

Things I want to tell myself at 21 1. You’ve achieved so much in terms of self care and self respect but there are still some things you have to work on. Like dancing. Yes, you can get drunk and dance and you can dance alone in your room but why do you feel so restrained in front of people? 2. You have a beautiful smile. But you can’t smile genuinely in crowds. Blur them out. Crowds shouldn’t dictate how wide you smile. 3. Have more ice cream. Have double scoops of different flavours and walk around when the sun is out with sticky hands and stained lips. 4. When you’re in situations you have no control over, do not stress. There’s literally no point. Instead focus on things you can control which will indirectly have a positive impact on those tough situations you can’t directly deal with. 5. Always read the preview of a book before buying it. Always. 6. Don’t force yourself to giveaway your childhood books. Somethings you can keep for yourself even if only for occasional smiles and nostalgia. 7. Try. And don’t give up. You will have relapses. You will be doing so well and then will suddenly faulter. A day. Maybe five. But you can get back to it. You can start again. The number times you go back to something you’re trying to change, something you’re working on, strengthens your will. It’s not a sign of losing. It’s a sign that you will eventually conquer. 8. I know you just can’t understand when women are against feminism and when men and women have such a wrong idea of what feminism really is. But you can’t get so agitated. You can’t forcefully change their beliefs. 9. You would like to believe that a friend would be a certain way and your grandparents would be a certain way but just because they are supposed to be loving and available doesn’t mean they actually will. People hardly ever live up to what they should. Even if they are family. Even if they are love. 10. Save first. Then spend out of the remaining money. That’s the only way you can have your Seoul trip by 2020. 11. When you watch a movie or read a book that makes you emotional and nostalgic, texting them isn’t a wise option because they aren’t feeling the same way. It will just be another unwanted text from you. 12. You are privileged. In different ways from most but still privileged. Know your privilege. Don’t look down on others. They aren’t blessed with the same advantages as you are. 13. Let those who want to cancel plans cancel. There’s no point in meeting someone who isn’t as excited and as desirous of meeting you as you are of meeting them. Even if you are friends since 9. Even if you have a treasure trove of childhood memories with them. 14. Sometimes excuses are genuine reasons. 15. 20s isn’t the only decade you’re alive. Don’t stress yourself to achieve everything in these 10 years and don’t drive yourself insane accomplishing things you don’t even want to but believe that you should. 16. Be true to yourself. Even if that’s the only thing you will ever be.

i wonder if magic is real, but only in a really mundane way.

My ankles never twist.  I’ve always been rather active, I did track for five years (all the running events), and one time while running I stepped in a hole, lost my shoe, and landed sprawling about five feet away.  I pulled my shoe on and kept running.

I got pregnant three years ago. I was 22, it was a brand-new relationship, but I was adamant that I was having a baby. I’ve always taken motherhood very seriously. I was abused — the product of people who shouldn’t have had kids — then adopted. I felt so strongly that this was the most important job of my life. I wasn’t at risk of genetic defects, so during the anatomy scan it didn’t even occur to me that they were looking for abnormalities. Me, my boyfriend, and my parents all went to the appointment, and when they said I was having a girl, my mom jumped up and down hollering as if she were at a football game. My boyfriend cried. I was home alone when I got a call from the genetic specialist who told me that the tests were positive for trisomy 13. I thought that was Down syndrome and thought, Okay, I can do that. But then she started apologizing: “I’m so sorry, these babies usually miscarry. It’s a miracle she’s made it this far.” I said I didn’t understand, and she explained that my baby could pass any day, be still-born, or die soon after. I Googled “trisomy 13” and saw horrific pictures of babies without noses or mouths. I sat there and sobbed while I held my belly apologizing to her over and over and over again. I called my mom and said, “My baby’s going to die. My baby’s going to die.” The doctor cleared her schedule and saw me later that day. She said: “You need to make a decision. You’re already 23 weeks and the state of Ohio has restrictions that impact your options.” She explained I could terminate or carry the pregnancy to its extent. At the time, 24 weeks was the cutoff for abortion in Ohio or else you had to travel to another state. [In December 2016, Republican governor John Kasich signed a law that reduced this cutoff to 20 weeks.] We only had days to decide, and even then there were waiting lists and the expense was horrendous. I had never felt so alone. The counselor said my baby wasn’t in pain and there was no risk to either of our lives if we continued the pregnancy. I thought, Let’s try to make some memories while we can. I really enjoyed being pregnant. I loved having this purpose, and I thought as long as she’s not suffering, I think that her being here with us right now is the best we can do. And so … we tried. At 29 weeks, my ankles and legs got extremely swollen. I was disassociating and became lightheaded, so I left work. I started cramping and ended up in the hospital. There were so many tests, which ultimately concluded that this was an emergency situation. [Jessica was at risk of having a seizure, and potentially dying, if labor wasn’t induced.] I wasn’t thinking, I’m terminating this pregnancy in order to save my life, but that’s what my paperwork said. The doctor was very clear. He said, “You need to decide whether you want to induce now or come back in a week and get your blood pressure checked again — and I will induce you then.” I lived 45 minutes away from any hospital, on a farm without neighbors. It was a bitterly cold January. He was afraid I’d have a seizure and not get to them in time. That worried me, too. But I knew that if I was induced, there was no chance my daughter would survive. Even if I carried her to term, her survival rate was very low, less than 5 percent. Another decision I had to make was telling the doctors that I did not want them to resuscitate the baby. I was in labor for 32 hours. I declined to have her monitored during labor because I didn’t want to sit there listening to her pass away. So they’d periodically come in and quietly listen for a heartbeat. The last time, at 1 a.m., they couldn’t hear it. I made them bring my family back into the room, and about a half an hour later it was time. She was born after three pushes, and at just two and a half pounds. Her heart was still beating, but she didn’t cry or breathe or make any sort of sound. There was mention of oxygen, but I said, “Please, just let her go.” They put her on my chest, and my boyfriend came and cut the cord. She stayed alive for two and a half hours. They called it when her heart stopped. When I made the decision to “voluntarily” induce, I felt like I was picking myself over my child. I wouldn’t wish that on the most evil person on Earth. A funeral director arrived with a huge white cloth. He said, “I have to cover her face so people don’t know when I’m walking down the hall [with such a small body].” I handed her over, and that was the last time that I saw her. I didn’t want a casket on display at the funeral; that tiny box would have been way too much. I collected her ashes a week later. Many people don’t understand why this experience reinforced my pro-choice beliefs. Now more than ever, I firmly believe: No conditions. No restrictions. I can’t imagine being in that situation and being denied the dignity of making a choice. That little bit of control was so empowering. Nobody just wakes up after being pregnant for over 20 weeks and says, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” When Trump said those things about late-term abortion during the debate, I was so angry. What must the rest of the world think of us? I have friends in the U.K. and Canada saying, “What the hell? You can have 30 guns but you can’t have a dignified, comfortable abortion?” And while we’re getting abortions and making painful decisions about our bodies, Trump is fucking tweeting.

there’s nothing wrong with admitting you were once toxic.

ok so. there’s an office administrator at my work and she has this cute little 2 year old named William. he calls me “Nick so tall”. like that’s my name to him, but he says it like it’s one word. “Nicksotall”. and i love it so I’ve taken to calling him Will So Lil’ and we get along like a housefire. i haven’t seen him in like two weeks, but his mom comes in to work today and tells me that recently he’s been telling his own bedtime stories, and he starts them all with once upon a time and everything. cute right? well to me it gets cuter, because he has been telling stories about Batman, Spider-man, and Nicksotall. and we have these adventures and climb buildings and fight crime together and i have to be honest, it warmed my heart so fucking much it’s ridiculous