Ordinary life, ordinary stories; why would you need me to write about it? I'm not special or different in any good ways, I'm just a normal young adult with normal young adult life who still watches all the Disney movies, old and new. The only thing I would consider different about me or my life is that I'm happy. Like actually happy, yeah I had those teenaged blues but I broke through. I'm not sure why people tell me that's different I've met other who've done the same, got in a rut and picked them selves back up; I probably should just say thank you and walk away but where is the fun in that nonsense? When people tell me I'm lucky I ask what makes it so, not rudely or with an attitude but with genuine question and curiosity; cause honestly I don't see it as different and special but as privileged. I have a boyfriend he's lucky to be where he is, he went through shit I wish I was there for but I didn't know him then; torture and depression basically ruled his world when he was just 18 and didn't really stop until he was I think about 21. I didn't know him then he was with another girl. Her name was Andrea and she made him live in hell, now if she ever reads this I know shell probably do what she did to him those many years ago; but that's not really the point here is it? As you can tell already I drift from my real points quite a lot, my real point is he's lucky to be where he is now and I'm privileged to be where I am. The reasons are simple, he fought to stay alive I didn't, he grew from his pain by him self I didn't. I'm still amazed at how he bounced back after his fighting he's such a caring, loving guy and all these past stories hurt him to this day so I never ask unless told. One story that gets me though is he would hit his head against a concrete pole that was in the middle of his old apartment he would hurt himself like this daily because this girl was mean; evil I would use.
So really, please tell me why in so lucky to be where I am, tell me how my fight is just like his in all parts. I couldn't do that stuff to myself, I just cried and maybe sometimes pinched until I bled but really what harm does that do worse than a concrete pole? I'm privileged to have healed from my past and thinking about it doesn't hurt me to the point of putting myself back to the point of no return, he is lucky that he has ways to bring himself back from these ruts of pain and memories that seem so fresh even though they are 4 years old, he is lucky that he still smiles and that she didn't fry every last happy strand in his brain from the mental hurt she put in his life. So yeah, I'm not lucky; even if this rant made no sense to you don't worry it didn't make sense to me either. I planned to use this as a way of saying a story but it has appeared that this is real life now ain't it? Well this is my ted talk welcome.
No I'm just kidding why would someone use that for an end of a sentence? Someone who is just typing as her brain comes up with this stuff, I really don't know why my brain has decided to go on here and type this, its not like someone is gonna come on here and read tis and think, "Wow, what a relatable young adult, I would like to read more life stories" jokes on you this isn't a story, there are no draft pages or thought process just a girl and her laptop on a late Friday night. I'm not sure when ill stop this but I feel as if I need to do this when I need to vent out what ever is in my head so I may be back. I also may not be back, so until I decide ill see you later wattpad. Oh by the way, my profile picture was taken 5 years ago I promise I'm not a little kid typing this.
MN
