emails to remind me that heartbreak is a universal thing, and that best friends are our soulmates.

{via.}

From: Me
To: Cyndi

He told me he loved me. That's why this is upsetting me so much. He told me he loved me one night when I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up because he was stroking my hair and he whispered it in my ear because he thought I was still asleep. He's the first really good guy who has loved me who I actually had feelings for back (since the high school version of Mr. Man; let's face it, Mr. Man kind of sucks now). He's the first guy that ever shared my political views, that would drop everything and travel if he could, that opened doors for me, that gave me his jacket when I was cold, that wanted to do mundane things with me like go grocery shopping just because he got to be with me, that would rub my back without me asking, and that not only took my dark past in stride but let me hear about his secrets too. He was the Northeastern blonde-haired blue-eyed boy that I've always thought I'd end up marrying (you know, if Rupert Grint was unavailable). He said 'coffee' with that cute Yankee accent and literally gave me goosebumps and made me weak-kneed when he kissed me. Do you know he's actually the first guy that used the word 'beautiful' to describe me? And 'sexy.' No one else has either called me those things -- I get 'pretty,' or 'hot,' but never 'Beautiful.' And yet we could still totally geek out and watch old reruns of Inuyasha together and study together somewhat diligently and fall asleep on the couch cuddling.

I know I said I was going to be careful, that I'd guard myself, that I wouldn't fall for this one. But fuck, by the time I said that I was already way over my head. And I would really desperately like to hate him, but that truth of the matter is that if he knocked on my door rightthissecond and said it was a mistake, that he loves me, that he hates himself, I'd probably take him back. And I really just hate myself for that.

And I totally know this is normal and that every one goes through this and that even though I think right now that he's over me and that I'll never be over him and that my life is over, it's not. So you don't need to remind me. I know I'll be okay. I'm just going to buy some hair dye and some ice cream and I'll be okay soon. But right now, I really need someone else to hate him too, so even though you met him for about five seconds, and know nothing about him, I really need you to tell me that you hate him too.

From: Cyndi
To: Me

1. I read all of this.
2. Hate is a strong word and I refuse to apply it to a singular person. Inanimate objects, sure. People by themselves, no.

But I'll say I hate boys like him.

Boys like him, and like Z. Those boys who are so ridiculously good to you, you initially start out scared for how things'll turn out, because it can't be true. So you edge off a bit, then fall in like Alice through the rabbit hole. And things are seemingly perfect because he seems like the closest you'll ever find to a soul mate because you have the same taste in music, have the same weird habits and can have debates about stupid things like typography. Because he said all those things you've been dying to hear and kissed away every insecurity and instance of self doubt.

But the moment it all ends they leave you in this state of self-loathing. Of wondering why you can't hold on to the only thing you thought was worthwhile in your life and the only person you thought would love you that way. And you live with replayed silly memories as well as the instant that you knew things were over. And you know you'd take him back no matter what. Because lets face it, in my case, Z has been beyond douche, and I'd like to think I wouldn't, but if he so much as skyped me right now being like "I miss you, lets give us another chance, etc." I'd be down for it in a heart beat.

And you know what. It's not normal. Everyone goes through it yes, but its not normal. Because no one should have to feel like this. No one deserves it. No one can act like (or should act like and claim) that this is normal or that you'll ever be okay again. Because you won't be. No matter how subtly this'll change you in some way. And how can that be okay? You'll recover. That's a sure thing. But you've also lost something.

Yes. I hate boys like him. That's the aspect that's ok to hate. I hate them with every fiber in my being and every tear that I shed and every breath and beat that courses through me.

From: Me
To: Cyndi

You're right. I don't hate him. I never could, even if I wanted to. Even if I was okay with hating another human being. But the fact of the matter is that he is another real life person with a thoughts and feelings and a heart beat, a heart beat that once lulled me to sleep and convinced me that everything would be okay, that it was finally safe to be truly happy. And if nothing else, I'll always care deeply about the idyllic few weeks we had before the real world came in and reminded us that nothing is perfect, that happiness is followed by sorrow, and that love is fleeting.

Didn't Your Momma Teach You Anything?

Or, Spend My Money More Wisely, TAMU.

Dear Texas A&M,

I understand you're in the middle of a budget crisis. The Texas Legislature is telling you to cut almost 15% of your budget. That's A LOT. It sucks. I get it. I've been there; my parent's have cut me off before, too. It's a little scary, isn't it?

When my parents cut me off for a little while, I had to make decisions, cut out excess. I didn't decide not to pay rent or electric, and spend that money on coffee and clothes, did I? I bought sandwich meat instead of steak. I think we can both agree that that would have been a rather silly decision to do otherwise. Like, get your priorities in line, right?

You're a university. You are, by default, an institution theoretically filled with intelligent people. So we would expect you to deal with this budget crisis smartly; you'd do some things you're already doing. Things like: getting rid of obsolete landlines in an age when everyone has cells; not raising pay; letting TAMU basically become a billboard for Pepsi Co.. We'd think you'd do little things that add up to a lot, like turn off lights in your offices at night, use more energy efficient lightbulbs, stop keeping Harrington so damn cold all the time, etc.

So, why is it that I hear you're doing some less than brilliant things? Firing our professors, A&M? Come on, now. They're literally the lifeblood of the university. I get that their salaries are a huge chunk of our budget, but they are necessary. I would maybe understand if the incoming freshman class was small, so you didn't need as many profs teaching the same basic level subjects. If the student body was shrinking, it'd make sense. But each incoming class increases in size. And it's not like our lecture halls can hold more people per class. And honestly, it makes TAMU look bad when our teacher:student ratio changes negatively. With an increasingly larger student body and diversifying education, we need those professors.

Also, what about all this construction on campus, TAMU? I can think of five recent projects off the top of my head, ranging from kind of useful to a terrible investment, especially in the middle of a budget crisis, i.e. the glorified sidewalk running parallel to another perfectly good sidewalk in Academic Plaza. How much did that cost? About one prof's yearly salary? No one even sits on those benches, guys. It was a waste of money.

You know what else is a huge investment? Your salaries. The administration's. I don't see any of y'all getting fired. The bureaucracy at this school continues to grow, getting less and less streamlined (i.e. more and more frustrating for students and profs), wasting more and more money, and the necessary features of a school are what are being removed? What are you going to take away next, TAMU? Our desks? Just so you don't have to admit that maybe our administration has gotten too big? I understand that it's hard to stand up and say "My job is useless. I quit on the condition that you do away with my position entirely." But you probably should. Combine duties. Make it so any one person's job includes doing more than one task. You'll streamline the school and keep what we actually need -- teachers in the classrooms.

Universities exist for the education of their students, not for the glory of their administrators. Think about it.

Oh Friday, How I Adore You

Let me count the ways --

You are the end of a tough school week that has exhausted me to the core.

You're the day I finish classes early -- 3:15 instead of the typical 5.

You are the day I get to drive down to Houston to see my wonderful friend, The Cynical Optimist, whom I miss dearly.

You're the beginning of the weekend, which is always a wonderful, wonderful thing.

On weekends when I get to go home, you are the day I long for, when I get to spend three and a half hours on the open road with no one but my lovely car Scott and Taylor Swift, or Bright Eyes, or Ke$ha, or whomever my current musical obsession is.

You are the day when I'm exhausted from a late night out of dancing, but 20 years from now I'll only remember crawling into bed at 3 am on a Friday morning with a smile on, not how hard it was to get up in the morning.

In less than a month, you are the day my spring break starts, when I get to spend more than 48 hours in a row with Mr. Man and go on some secret trip my parents have planned.

Friday, you are all around lovely. Why is it that you only stop by once a week?

Notes of the Day

Go check out Supah Mommy for more fun post-its!

Broken-Heart Letter

"Whatever life takes away from you, let it go. When you surrender and let go of the past, you allow yourself to be fully alive in the moment. Letting go of the past means you can enjoy the dream that is happening right now."--dmr

Dear Boy A,

First and foremost, I'm pretty glad that you don't know I have this blog. I talk about you a lot. Most of it is good, but this letter might not be so much.

You broke my heart. Period, end of story. But you know that already.

We were good together, in every way. People say that no one falls in love in high school, but we did, and we knew it. Everyone around us knew it. Even our parents were preparing themselves for us to get married. I never told you this, but when we went prom dress shopping my parents joked that I should just buy a white dress so I could wear it again for our wedding everyone was sure we'd have in two years. Not only that, we took our relationship seriously and actually talked about getting married after a few years of college.

And then one day... we broke up. I don't know why, to be honest. When people ask me why, I say it was because we were going off to college, or we were bored, or we needed a break, or we got in a stupid fight and were too proud to apologize.

But, none of that's true. I think part of it was that we both got cold feet. I think we realized we were 17 years old and were already with the person we thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives with and it scared us. We didn't know how to handle what everyone around us already "knew." I think the pressure was too much.

However, why isn't really what broke my heart for so long. The point was that we were apart, and that sucked. But what was even worse was what happened after.

Not speaking to me for three months? That was lame.

Dropping out of school, starting to drink and do drugs, and basically become someone that most of the people I know from high school are disappointed in because you had so much potential? That is really lame.

Becoming a total jackass though? That was entirely uncalled for. You were always sarcastic and rough around the edges, but a nice guy I still can't believe half the shit you put my through. You gave my phone number out to people, even ones you barely knew like your managers, and encouraged them to call me when they were drunk for kicks and giggles. I got a phone call about how much you missed me from another unknown person every holiday for over a year, and I could hear you giggling in the background. Do you know how hard it was to sit there, Christmas Eve, and listen to someone I didn't even know tell me that you still loved me and were on your way to my grandmother's house, when I knew that was you in the background laughing? That was beyond jacked up. I got voice mail after voice mail like that, most from people I didn't even know. When I finally got up the guts to call you and tell you to knock it off or take me out of your phone since you clearly weren't taking the let's-still-be-friends part of our break up seriously, you apologized and acted like a nice guy again, but you were just playing me, which I found out pretty quickly.

I cannot believe you told a bunch of the people I went to high school with that you were just using me the whole time we'd been together; that you cheated on me and I really meant nothing to you; that you wanted to see how long you could play the smart girl for a fool and how bad you'd break her heart after. Sometimes, in my most self-doubting moments, I believe it. I really believe I was the stupid girl that fell in love with a boy that never cared. But I know, I know, that's not true. You don't take a girl you're using for sex ring shopping and apply to all the same colleges and spend every waking minute with her. You don't stay up late to watch her sleep or talk about your future together and let her hang out alone with your mom and sister and offer to dig her car out of freak snow storms in March. You don't look at her the way you looked at me and you don't defend her against your friends the way you did for me and you don't waste a year and a half on her. I know nothing you told them was true. So why the hell would you say it?


(This post has been brought to you in part by Mama Kat's writer's workshop. Mosey on over there and see what everyone else wrote about!)

Dear Finals,

Because of you, I'm not getting a whole lot of sleep.

Because of you, I've had six cups of coffee, an energy drink, two Gatorades, and one square meal today.

Because of you, I am not having any fun.

Because of you, I haven't gotten any Christmas shopping done.

Because of you, I really hate school right now. I've never hated school this much before!

I hope you're pleased with yourself.

Sincerely,
Valorie

Dearest Santa...

Dear Santa,

I know back in like the 5th grade I said I didn't believe in you, but you and I both know that was just because I wanted that mean popular girl Amber to be friends with me and she couldn't be friends with babies who still believed in Santa.

But I still believe, Santa. I still believe.

And since I have such faith, and have been such a good girl this year (check your list!), I think I've earned a few choice gifts.

Like this recycled hemp shoulder bag with flying swallows on it. Umm, cute much? And think of all the cool things I could keep inside it, like this ridiculously adorable puppy:

Isn't he cute?! Come on, how cute would he look curled up in our living room while Ayla and I watch TV and sip hot chocolate this winter? You know you think it's a great idea. While you're at it, could you pay the down payment our apartment complex requires? I'll totally let you play with it whenever you want! The elves and Mrs. Clause, too!

Speaking of paying for things, could you potentially pay my tuition next semester? I've worked so hard at school, so that seems like a logical gift. And a beneficial one! Education for the win!


You know what, Santa? I've got the perfect gift in mind -- a limitless Visa giftcard. Just slip it in my stocking and you won't have to worry about any of the other gifts -- I'll take care of it. And I'll make sure to put out really delicious cookies out for you -- all kinds! And not the crappy ones with Splenda that my mom makes. I know you like your sugar legit. :)

Merry Christmas, Santa! See you soon!
(This post was brought to you by Mama Kat's writer's workshop.)

Letter to Illness

Dear Sickness,

I've noticed that you liked to come at the most inconvenient times, in the most annoying of forms, like a stomach virus that causes high fever and vomiting.

For instance, you so cruelly came into my life at nighttime, between the hours of 1 am and 7 am when all I'd really like to be doing is sleeping.

You decided to pay a visit the week I need to write a big ten-page research paper.

And the weekend that my best friend, Travis, is supposed to come visit me in CS and go to Phi Lamb date party with me Saturday night.

Now, sickness, I understand you're a necessary part of life. I get that you come and go at least once a year, but really? This week? You couldn't have waited like a week, until after I'd written my paper and Travis had left? Really?

*sigh*

Love,
Valorie

P.S. TWLOHA! You better have written love on your arms!

Writer's Workshop: Letters

Hey you,

You're killing me. The mixed signals? Yeah, they're not cool.

You have a great smile. And you're incredibly intelligent and down to Earth, which makes conversation wonderful.

But I hate you. I mean, I don't really. I wish I did, because that would make things so much easier. That's almost the same right? Hating someone and just wishing you did so you didn't have to like them? It is in my book. At least, for now.

Stop being so great, okay? Thanks.

Love,
Simply Valorie

(This post was brought to you by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.)