It's not you, it's me. (It's you.)
Okay, first of all, it just thundered so loud, I think I now have a permanent heart arrhythmia. If I were on a candid camera, my reaction would've been hysterical. Thankfully, I'm alone in the dark and no one saw how high a little crippled girl can jump. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.
So after that little adrenaline rush, I won't be sleeping any time soonish, so I think it's time for a blog post on something that's been haunting me this week. I need to quit America.
Sharing a very long border with the U.S. is like being best friends with the most popular girl in school. Usually, it's kind of great! You get the perks, like her awesome TV shows, and movies, award shows, sports teams, concert tours, voting on Dancing With The Stars, without the crushing expectations of popularity and having to wear makeup everyday.
How far can we take this metaphor... Let's see.
She comes over to your house, you go to hers, you marvel at the different ways your moms make macaroni & cheese, you trade stuff you love - it's pretty great. Sometimes you feel a little inadequate, like you're not pretty enough or everyone knows everything about her, and not you; you're just her little tag-along friend! But it's fine, cuz you're besties and she really likes you and when her parents fight, she wants to move in with you, which makes you feel cool, though a little crowded. But whatever, you know it won't happen cuz your parents are actually pretty strict about who they let into the house, she just doesn't know that much about how your household works. She only recently learned your dad's name. So it works! And you've been friends for-ev-er, (and only one little fight back in elementary school!)
But, popularity has its pitfalls. You simply can't be the most popular girl in school without a little drama. Sometimes a LOT of drama. Her parents are constantly fighting, she's self-destructive, she's always getting into the same fight with the same boy, and you're like "just dump him!" and she's like, "I can't, it's our constitutional right," blah blah blah, etc etc etc, and eventually you're just like, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!! You know??? Like, you have a lot going on in your life too, and the energy you expend worrying about her and her problems and the debris she leaves in her wake is sucking the life out of you! You care, but you need to protect your heart and sanity, too. And you'd never turn your back on her, and you make sure she knows that she can come to you at any time for help, but you need to remove yourself from the situation. You need to focus on things that make you happy and that are happening at your house and in your classes. Your rent is getting a little high, and you're pretty sure the government is trying to run an oil pipeline through your backyard and you should probably start writing angry letters about that, so you need to take a break from the constant catastrophe that is the girl-next-door's life. You'll be back, but you need some Me time. Gotta decompress. Breathe a little easier for awhile.
So, America, girl. I'm opting out for awhile. I sincerely hope you get your shit together. I adore you, despite making fun of you a lot, but you know I don't mean it. It's hard to watch you hurt yourself - it hurts me! So, I'm just gonna curl up here, in my house made of snow, and unplug my phone, turn off my text notifications and watch some Degrassi. Facebook me if you need me. I wish you the best with the rest of your summer, but Donna out. A girl's heart can only take so much.
And I still might need a defribulator after that thunder.
So after that little adrenaline rush, I won't be sleeping any time soonish, so I think it's time for a blog post on something that's been haunting me this week. I need to quit America.
Sharing a very long border with the U.S. is like being best friends with the most popular girl in school. Usually, it's kind of great! You get the perks, like her awesome TV shows, and movies, award shows, sports teams, concert tours, voting on Dancing With The Stars, without the crushing expectations of popularity and having to wear makeup everyday.
How far can we take this metaphor... Let's see.
She comes over to your house, you go to hers, you marvel at the different ways your moms make macaroni & cheese, you trade stuff you love - it's pretty great. Sometimes you feel a little inadequate, like you're not pretty enough or everyone knows everything about her, and not you; you're just her little tag-along friend! But it's fine, cuz you're besties and she really likes you and when her parents fight, she wants to move in with you, which makes you feel cool, though a little crowded. But whatever, you know it won't happen cuz your parents are actually pretty strict about who they let into the house, she just doesn't know that much about how your household works. She only recently learned your dad's name. So it works! And you've been friends for-ev-er, (and only one little fight back in elementary school!)
But, popularity has its pitfalls. You simply can't be the most popular girl in school without a little drama. Sometimes a LOT of drama. Her parents are constantly fighting, she's self-destructive, she's always getting into the same fight with the same boy, and you're like "just dump him!" and she's like, "I can't, it's our constitutional right," blah blah blah, etc etc etc, and eventually you're just like, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!! You know??? Like, you have a lot going on in your life too, and the energy you expend worrying about her and her problems and the debris she leaves in her wake is sucking the life out of you! You care, but you need to protect your heart and sanity, too. And you'd never turn your back on her, and you make sure she knows that she can come to you at any time for help, but you need to remove yourself from the situation. You need to focus on things that make you happy and that are happening at your house and in your classes. Your rent is getting a little high, and you're pretty sure the government is trying to run an oil pipeline through your backyard and you should probably start writing angry letters about that, so you need to take a break from the constant catastrophe that is the girl-next-door's life. You'll be back, but you need some Me time. Gotta decompress. Breathe a little easier for awhile.
So, America, girl. I'm opting out for awhile. I sincerely hope you get your shit together. I adore you, despite making fun of you a lot, but you know I don't mean it. It's hard to watch you hurt yourself - it hurts me! So, I'm just gonna curl up here, in my house made of snow, and unplug my phone, turn off my text notifications and watch some Degrassi. Facebook me if you need me. I wish you the best with the rest of your summer, but Donna out. A girl's heart can only take so much.
And I still might need a defribulator after that thunder.