In the Stars

(via kwilkie)

(Source: dream-it-in-color, via haylortarlan)

(Source: reprodeuce, via merbearxox)

Anonymous asked: It is really hard for me to feel good about myself when all your friends, guys and girls, are so beautiful and good looking. I don't know how to love myself.

I’m a tad confused about what youre saying. Did you mean it’s hard for you to feel good about yourself when YOUR friends are good looking? Or did you address my friends and you’re in my friend group? Either way, good looks are over rated. I know everyone wants to feel good looking and attractive, but at the end of the day… Looks are only skin deep. Unless you just want friends to like you for your appearance, it isn’t even something worth concern. Also, there is no universal standard of attractiveness, don’t let yourself feel anything less than beautiful just over a few people… You’ll meet thousands more

Heheheheh

(Source: c0d3, via haylortarlan)

I came into high school as a drastically different person than the one sitting here typing in the dark. 

When I first walked into those doors I was small, not literally of course, but on the inside. I was put into my place, which, at the time, was a place of minute importance. I was a freshman. I was dorky. I didn’t talk to girls. I didn’t have many friends. I was overweight by quick a bit, and all I wished for was some inkling of an affinity or inclination of social skills; to no avail, I tried to make friends, and on the most basic level, I just wanted a place to belong to. I wanted a niche. I wanted a spot I was comfortable with, friends I was comfortable with, and a life I was comfortable with. 

Much to my dismay, most of these things eluded my tentative grasp. I had friends, not nearly as many as I do today, but they were there. I told myself that was okay though; I was to focus on grades for the first few years. At the risk of pride, I was naturally brilliant at most classroom tasks. I’m not saying I was a genius, or even near the level Max was, but I was gifted intellectually. Every teacher I had ever had told my parents that during all of their conferences. I had that to fall back on; my sense of belonging would come from academic achievement. Good grades couldn’t hangout with you on weekends, but there was a hole I kept pitching them into in hopes of filling it. 

I tried dating at various points throughout high school. Basically every time the ultimate result was disaster. I learned a lot from it though. I have, or I should say HAD, an inherent attraction towards girls that were bad for me. Mainly girls that are emotionally distant, which suits some people well on their own I reckon, but that’s not something I can deal with. I’m not going to drag you lot through the details on the scarce and vain attempts I formerly made at relationships, because their collaborative experience is just tantamount to lessons that have brought me where I am today, enriched my ability to adequately assess girls I showed interest in, and ensured I didn’t have to make any mistakes more than once. This section ends on a high note though. I am currently in the greatest relationship I’ve had so far, no offense to any of my exes, not that there are many of them, or that they’ll even read this. Not only is this relationship my longest-lasting, but I feel things I haven’t felt before with a girl. When it comes to feelings, most of us (myself included) are just walking around in the dark, which makes for crude navigation. Its bizarre; it’s baffling. It doesn’t always make sense, and it takes me through a whole gamut of feelings. It’s great though. I’m so content with where I’m at with her. This sounds dumb, but all I’ve ever really wanted from a girl is to just have her open up to me. Just to express that she has real and sincere feelings for me, that the thought of losing me is frightening. I don’t have expensive tastes, or high expectations. No, I’m simple to please, but I’m also that “it’s the though that counts” kind of guy. I’m not a total sap, but I appreciate the expressing of feelings, the little teenage tenderness, and the subtle awkwardness that accompanies our age with inexperience. 

Cumulatively, my ability to perceive my changes throughout high school is impaired. It’s hard for me to say how and if I have changed. I’ve asked a few people how I’ve changed over the span of high school. They tell me I became popular. That’s not me changing though, that’s just perception of me changing. I don’t care about that. Today I talked to someone I met a few years ago, and was told that my personality really hasn’t changed much. I believe it. The only real change I can think of in my personality is my increased tolerance and open-mindedness. I honestly feel like morally I am the same person; generally, I treat people just as well as I always did. With that being said, I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I got so many friends this year I never had before. I’m not sure what i did to make people like me. I’m not even really sure why they do. 

I mean yeah, I’ve changed appearance. I’ve done so  more than once actually. I have acquired an ear piercing, then a second ear piercing on the other ear, but then I let the second one close up. I got a tattoo in spring break sophomore year, and here, two years later, the paw prints have yet to fade. This past fall I got more; now there are birds flying on me. They’re flying up and away, far from where they once were, so that the birds can reach their goals. They parallel the aspirations my dad had for me. I’m going to take off one day too. 

Speaking of, I kind of got a bomb dropped on my life last fall. I still get it coming back to me in dreams. It’s September 19th, 2011, and I walk in from school, at 2:38pm. He apparently hasn’t moved all  day, so I go to investigate and sure enough, he’s gone. Brain-dead anyway. Until it happened, I could never have imagined that pain. At first, it was like trauma was a sword that just cut, and cut, and cut away at me. Torture. It was anguish, and searing pain, and rage, and sadness and depression and crying and restlessness, and nights where I would just wake up yelling and screaming, tossing and turning. And honestly, it’s been equally as hard dealing with my mom since it has happened. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she makes my life hell sometimes. I am so tired of taking care of her. 

Then homecoming happened. It was like a dream. I honestly didn’t even expect to get voted onto the court. That happened before my dad passed though. He was proud of me. Said I deserved it. Said I had always been a good person, and it just took people a few years to take notice. He told me I’d win, but he passed before he could see it happen. Homecoming was the last time this whole year time didn’t seem to just melt away. That weekend feels like last weekend. It was such a hard time for me. I wasn’t going to show it though. I wasn’t going to wake around and be an emotional wreck with that sash on. No, I had to be spirited. I feel like I had two days to just be sad before I had to start moving forward. Maybe that’s a good thing though. Then there was the night on the field. The cold, the rain, and the people. All of these kids who have been friends forever. Their parents all knew each other. My mom was the new one in their circle. I was the new one in the circle. Maybe it was sympathy, but everyone loved me then. It was almost too good to be true. We stayed in line for an eternity, dragging away at the sands of time ever so slowly. My cousin came; he hopped the fence, ran over and took his place beside me on the field. They called Amanda’s name, but I think that was expected by the majority of the crowd. Then, though, they called mine… and everything just kind of stopped for a moment. I grabbed Nick. I bent over and picked him up, spinning gradually as I did so. It was a tight embrace, for despite how surreal the entire experience was, I was invigorated. I’ll always remember that. People really treated me like a king for a little while after that. It embarrasses me though. I didn’t like when people would call me that. It made me feel pretentious. It was nice at first, but after that weekend I just wanted to go back to being just that nice guy again, so I did. 

And now it’s almost over. Tomorrow it ends. Tomorrow I don my honor cords, my medals, my stole, my gown… and I try my hardest to make the cap fit. After tomorrow high school is just memories. It will be a part of my past I have to let go of as I move onward. I won’t report there on a regular basis (in my case I use the phrase “regular basis” lightly). The kids I “go to school with” have become the kids I “used to go to school with.” My locker number fades away, my com fades away… soon enough our names  won’t even be said in the halls. Our fingerprints and footprints only last so long. 

Onward we go. We have big expectations to meet. Milestones are out there that we must conquer. We’re leaving a township to move out into a world. This is growing, and spreading out, and extension. I have learned so much and experienced so much. Perhaps my most valuable assets, I can take my lessons and experiences with me. Instead of being sad about what’s coming to an end, I can think of it as a transition, and I’m just taking what I used in the last chapter of my life into the next chapter of my life. 

Here’s the thing. If there is one thing high school has taught me about success, it’s this: potential is not equivalent to success. Potential alone is actually equivalent to nothing. It won’t get you anywhere on it’s own. Regardless of how skilled, talented or intelligent you are, if you don’t do anything with it, you might as well not be gifted at all. Hard work is what I need. It’s what I need to find. There is some else out there who is willing to work while you’re blowing it off. There is someone out there who is fighting you for a good future that is getting ahead in the game while you (and me) sleep. I’m stepping up my game. 

Ultimately, high school has been dynamic and diverse, educational and enlightening,  but it doesn’t end here. Those four years may have been phenomenal and amazing, but I’ll be damned before I let those be the best years of my life. I’m just beginning to be let off of my leash. My limits are fading, and my boundaries are fading; my barriers are sublimating into vapors, and, just as quickly as they vaporize, they are whisked away to somewhere I’ll never rediscover their binds. 

There are 60 seconds in a minute, 

and there are 60 minutes in an hour, 

while there are 24 hours in a day, 

and 365 days in a year. 

We had four years in high school. 

In case you slept through math, backtracking and multiplying those numbers together brings us 126,144,000 seconds in high school. We had over one hundred million seconds. We wished most of them away, shooing them off like unwanted insects while they were there. We didn’t want them at the time. However, we are really good at missing things, wanting them after we’ve lost them. Now that they’re gone, there are millions of seconds we’ll miss. 

Anonymous asked: You have impacted my life even though I've always been anon to tell you things. You've helped me with my insecurities, depression, etc. Just know you are a great man.

It makes me so relieved and happy to hear that I have been able to help someone. Thank you so much :)

(Source: danimansutti, via kwilkie)

And it was beautiful :) tonight was so right