Confession: I lie.

Think back. Do you ever remember the bad days in your life? I don't, not really at least. I remember being sad at a death or that i felt hopeless during my poor living situations. Yet, I cannot recall every detail in the same way that I can when I'm telling a story about "the most fun I've ever had." Maybe we just block out the bad, choose not to remember. Or, maybe in the grand scheme of life, it doesn't really matter. We don't cherish the bad things quite the same way we do when something is good. I think we have this lie that we all tell ourselves: It's a learning experience and I'm a better person for having lived through it. This way, suddenly, a bad situation somehow turns into something positive. We all know it's not true, but we do it anyway. I'm a worse person, actually. I'm angry and bitter. I'm selfish now. And I am just plain exhausted from holding it together day after day. Yet, I lie to myself all the time: One day, I will make the biggest difference for someone else; I'll share my story and save them with all the things I've learned.

See, I'm trying to decide what it is those awful girls did to me that made so afraid of the world. I'm trying to figure out how it is that I lost myself in the way I did. Some days, I look in the mirror and I'm actually not sure who is looking back.  Then, I remember that if i close my eyes, I can pretend it never happened. That might be a good sign, like I'm finally starting to let the past slip away silently.  I might be growing beyond this experience (or I might be lying to myself).

When I look back, I wonder how my story will change. The experience was horrible and words cannot do it justice. Still, I will tell my story. Bits and pieces will be forgotten, altered, or exaggerated. Though, not in the same way a "good" story changes. There is something different about how we remember hard experiences. Whether it's too hard for us or we want the added support, I don't know. What I do know is that my story will change. It will become a part of me, influence the way I see the people around me, and shift the way I give advice. I suppose only time will tell what that advice will be like: happy and hopeful, conflicted, dark and guarded, or indifferent.

I was once told by a close friend that what she liked most about me was how I could "hold it together." But, have I actually done that? Or is this blog sheer evidence of my falling apart? Maybe we all fall apart after we are devastated by the world. Maybe we really are only as strong as the friends who support us. Maybe not.

I choose to believe that we force ourselves through the bad things because we know that better times are coming. People love us way too much to let them down with our needless suffering. Then again, maybe these are just more of the lies that help make the struggles worthwhile.