Wasted potential.

Every time my family starts to talk about Matthew, I just want to walk out of the room. I hate all of these new questions that arise - is he going back to school, will he get a job, where will he be living... all of it adds up to one thing: an inconsistent, insecure, lazy nineteen-year-old who is under the impression that he is wise beyond his years.

It makes me think back to two years ago when he was dating Lila. Yes, he had a lot of complaints about her, but truly, she brought out the best in his personality. She made him want to exercise and eat healthy food. She made him want to be nice to people. She made him want to try in school. She gave him respect and love, and in turn, he gave her his heart. I remember one fall evening, he picked me up after work and we drove around until two in the morning trying to plan out the perfect date for Lila. We made a playlist. We found a place out in the country for him to take her to look at the stars. He wanted to amaze her, and I'm sure he did. What happened to that person?

I remember this summer, just a couple of weeks before school started, Matthew stopped by my house without warning after work to ask me if I wanted to stay at his house. I was surprised, but pleasantly so, so I grabbed my phone charger and he and I headed to Denny's at 11 PM. While we sat in there, Matthew discussed how upset he still was over Lila. They had broken up two weeks before, but he said he knew it was inevitable. He said he wanted to focus entirely on school. After that, he took me around town and showed me all of these different places where he had memories of her. And I let him talk because I knew he needed someone just to listen. What happened to that person?

Don't get me wrong - I am happy that he is not sad. I know he does not have to be with Lila to be happy, or with anyone at all really. But I miss the person he was when he was with Lila. She complemented him very well. Right now, just barely making it back into a second semester of school, throwing ridiculous parties every weekend and using them as excuses not to get his work done, getting fired from his job for being too hungover to get out of bed.... That's not who Matthew is supposed to be.

I hope he realizes he's worth more than that before he does something permanent to his life.

Forgetful.

I am so insecure, and this stems from my worry that I have absolutely nothing to offer anyone. Forget heights or spiders - my biggest fear is not being enough.

I worry constantly about how others see me. I wonder if I am funny enough for my friends or nice enough to my teachers. I wonder if I am charming, or whatever it is that you like about me, enough to keep you. I always worry.

And you, I don't know if I'm completely sad or infuriated. All you have talked about for a month is how much you hope Isaias and I will get together, and now I find out all you do is wish us a horrible date behind my back.

If you really cared about him, you'd be happy that he found someone. If you really care about me, you'd be happy that I was happy.

Absurdity.

You are calling me out and I take everything and make it my fault. This combination is not good.

I don't know what you're doing right now. I don't know why I'm fighting back. I don't know what sparked this and I don't know how to react to it. All I know is that my hands shake as I type these sentences. I don't have an ounce of anger left in me.

I know I was fucking confusing. I know I signed up for you and I didn't hold my end of the deal, okay? I think about it all the fucking time. I think about all of the things I could've done differently and it tears me to shreds because we could've been so many things. I could've been the one who stayed. I could've been the one who proved you wrong about people who leave because sometimes you got on my last nerve and sometimes I wanted to say, "I hate that boy," but through all my negativity and silence, I felt something unparalleled.

Isn't that the issue though? My entire part of the relationship was one big I wanted to, but I didn't. I wanted to call you but I didn't. I wanted to hang out with you but I didn't. I wanted to kiss you but I didn't. I wanted to date you but I didn't. I wanted to be the fucking perfect person for you but I didn't. And I don't know if I would've realized this had this not happen, and I know sometime I'll like a boy and we'll end up happy, but I feel despicable. I feel repulsive in my mind and body. This is so much bigger than you or this pseudo-relationship. I can't make people happy. I'm not capable of being someone that other people are going to love. People think I am intriguing and they get bored and despondent as they learn about me, and you make me feel like it's going to be that way forever. Realistically, I know that it won't be. Someday I'll be happy, but for now, I just want to be alone because not being with me seems to suit you pretty well.

I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I didn't give you what you needed so that you could be what I needed. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you when I was upset or angry or anything. I'm sorry that I wanted to, but I didn't.

And here I am again writing to this blog because I know I'll never write to you and seem vulnerable again. And guess what? I'll want to, but I won't.

Just breathe.

You are a selfish, hateful little thing, aren't you? For the first time in my entire life, I snapped. I told you what I was truly thinking in a rush of months and months of anger I so carefully withheld from you.

I'm sorry I was rude, but I also can't help that you're inconsiderate.

Comfortable.

There are a few things that I would like to address, and none of them are remotely related to one another.

Firstly, nothing irritates me more than people who cannot take a compliment. If I think you're witty or pretty or have a nice smile and tell you, thank me and move on. I'm sorry if you think that I'm inaccurate. It irritates me, but it also saddens me that you don't believe me. 

As I listened to Mr. Foster tell the story of his parents today, one that begun with, "Well, my parents were - how do I put this nicely - stoners. They were hardcore stoners," I thought about how he's probably one of the most entertaining teachers I've ever seen. And I began to think about all the teachers I've had in high school.

Freshman year, Mrs. Utley stands out the most. I cannot believe it was three years ago that she was my teacher. She earned my respect very fast in an intense, slightly fearful way. I still owe her for all that she taught me: aside from a strong foundation in Latin, Mrs. Utley taught me English grammar. That's what scared me the most about high school. I entered into Honors English without knowing what a direct object was, and, to this day, I have no idea how I passed the admissions test. Yet somehow, on the very first day, she gave us an English grammar review, and suddenly, English made complete sense to me. It was genuinely like magic.

Then we moved onto Sophomore year. I have one word: Thoma. That man is my hero. He should be everyone's hero. Never in my life have I met a teacher that I wanted to impress more than that man. I wanted him to be proud of me. I tried excessively hard in that class just for a, "Good job, Haley." Actually, I tried excessively hard in that class because I thought he deserved a good grade from me. When I was having problems with Cameron, he went out of his way to respect my decisions but advise me. Finally, when Cameron and I broke up, he talked to me about it all the time just to make sure I was okay. I wasn't okay, but he made me want to be okay. No paragraphs on this blog will ever do that man justice because Mr. Thoma is an incredible teacher and an incredible person.

And now, I look at my English class and think about Dr. Allen. I've never met anyone with a spirit quite like hers. She's got the humor of a teenager but the analytical skills of a scholar. Actually, she's a bit of both. She makes me unafraid to speak my opinions in class. She makes me feel like I understand the metaphors and symbolism she sees. She even shares my love of dogs. I've always felt the need to be on edge and overly-proper in English classes, but with her, it's nice to just be myself. That  class feels like a family, and Dr. Allen is a wonderfully quirky woman.

This year, I start my day with Mrs. Mann. Out of everyone on this list, I think that Mrs. Mann has impacted my life the most. When Mrs. Utley left, I was devastated. I almost wanted to drop Latin because I did not think anyone was going to replace her. Then comes Mrs. Mann, silly, philosophical, laid-back Mrs. Mann. I fell in love with Latin. Honestly, she's more than a teacher to me. I feel like I could talk to her about absolutely anything. Her lessons don't just stop at Latin: discussions with her have made me a better student and person. She's the most selfless, humble person I've ever met, and if her husband is half the teacher that she is, I can see why everyone looks up to him so much. If I could be anything when I get older, I hope I'm like her. She's just up there with Thoma on the list of the greatest people I've ever known.

Damn, I'm a senior now. How am I supposed to leave this place? It's so comfortable. I can't imagine my life anywhere else.

But maybe that's the exact reason why I have to leave, and that breaks my heart.