Rosie

                I used to have a best friend. Her name was Abbie Lynn. I called her Rosie.

            Rosie was majestic and beautiful, something like a model. In the summertime, her auburn hair would get lighter. In the wintertime, her auburn hair would get so dark that the color reminded of a rose. That’s why I called her Rosie.

            Rosie and I were inseparable. We had every class in school together and went to the park every afternoon after school ended. My mother used to joke around and call Rosie her adopted daughter. In a reality, Rosie was the sister I never had but so desperately wanted.

            Rosie was outgoing and loving. She could make anyone smile, even on their lousiest of days. She could take a negative and turn it into a positive in a matter of minutes. She stood up for what she believed in and never put anyone down. She had the attention of every guy but found none of them interesting. She had the personality that everyone loved and wanted. She was an all-around great person.

            However, Rosie had secrets. She hid things from everyone, from me. How she looked and acted on the outside distracted those around her from thinking she had a problem on the inside. Every time I asked if she was okay, she would always say, “I’ve never been better” with a rock, solid smile. I would let it go but asked a few hours later, getting the same response.

            Rosie started to wear bracelets upon bracelets on her wrists. I thought it was just a new fashion statement for her. I didn’t ask her about them then but I wished I had. As the days passed, the amount of bracelets on her arm continued to grow as did my worry. But she kept reassuring me that she was fine. And then one day both of our worlds came crashing down.

            It was October 23^rd when Rosie played hooky for the first time. Something was off about her, but I didn’t know what it was. But, knowing who Rosie was and that school meant the world to her, I knew I had to check on her. I walked into her house and found her in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, pushing her fingers into her mouth, and throwing up. She yelled at me to leave, to never discuss what I saw. I just stared at her, tears threatening to pour out of my eyes. There was my best friend, broken, and I could do nothing to help her.

            The next day, she was at school. She looked terrible. If you knew Rosie, you would know that she couldn’t go a day without straightening or curling her hair, wearing make-up that made her golden eyes pop, and a smile that could stop the world. Something was wrong with her. Rosie was no longer the Rosie I once knew.

            Rosie talked to me less and less. She started hanging out with the group of people we used to make fun of. She wore darker make-up, dark clothing, and dyed her beautiful auburn hair black. I looked at her and saw some girl trying to be something she isn’t. I looked at her and saw a girl with so many secrets bottled up that she would rather change than express them. I looked at her and saw my best friend in pain.

            I walked up to her one day during Economics class. She gave me a funny look. I ignored it. “Rose, how are you?” I asked her.

            “I’m fine. Why do you keep asking me that?” She snapped.

            “Rosie, you aren’t fine. I remember what I saw a while ago. Just talk to me please.” I begged.

            “Listen,” She started but was cut off by the bell to start class.

            That was the last chance I had to talk to Rosie. She shut me out completely. She used to wave to me or text me here and there, but after that day, we no longer talked. She knew all of my secrets and I knew none of hers.

            I walked into my house one day to see her sitting at my kitchen table. I stopped in my tracks. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just stood there. Thankfully, my mom came to my rescue.

            “Rosie here said she really needs to talk to you.” My mother said.

            “Do you really?” I asked Rosie.

            She just nodded. My mom left the room and Rosie turned towards me. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, Cora. I’ve been thinking a lot about my life.”

            “What about it, Rosie?”

            Tears were running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to live it anymore. These past couples of months have been hell. There is a lot you don’t know, Cora.  A lot I hid from you because I didn’t want you worrying. But I can’t leave this life; leave you without you knowing what I’ve been through.”

            “Don’t say stuff like that, Rosie. I can help you through this. Through all of it, I promise you.” I cried.

            “Cora, I need you to listen to me. I need you to listen to the story I am about to tell you. Can you do that for me?” She asked, and I nodded. “It was about a month ago when I met a guy on the internet. I know it was bad but he made me feel special and loved. At first, I told myself that I would only talk to him for a little while until I found someone around here that interested me. As you know, that never happened. But this guy, this guy was something special. He wrote lovely poems for me, he wrote a beautiful song for me. And once all that sank in, I knew he was the “one.” And, that’s when everything changed. I was fine with a relationship over the internet. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to meet him. I wanted to see his gorgeous smile in person but I wasn’t ready for him to see me.

            “He didn’t understand why I didn’t want to meet him. He got pushy and demanded that we meet or he would break it off with me. So, against my better judgment, I met up with him. He was even more beautiful in person, Cora. He was so beautiful that it pained me to stare at him. When we were walking around town and he grabbed my hand, he smiled at me and I swear my heart stopped beating. That’s when I knew I was in love.” She looked down at her hands and I saw a tear fall.

            “Rosie, what happened?” I whispered.

            “I was in love with him, Cora. I fell head-over-heels in love with him. He didn’t feel the same. The second time we went out, he asked me if I ever had sex before. I said no. He smiled at me. Not his usually beautiful smile, no. This smile sent chills down my spine. I was scared, and I think he could sense it. He rubbed my back and told me everything would be okay. That night, after we went to see a movie, he drove me to a vacant lot and, and he raped me, Cora.”

            Rosie cried uncontrollably. I pulled her into my arms and cried with her. I understood right then why she didn’t tell me. She was ashamed of something she had no control over. After a good ten minutes of crying, she finished her story.

            “That was the first time it happened. It happened twice. And, after the last time, he told me that if I told anyone, he would hurt me. I don’t know what he is capable of. I don’t want him hurting Emmie, Cora. I couldn’t live with myself.” She said.

            “You need to tell someone. He can’t get away with what he did to you.” I said.

            “No, Cora, I can’t. And you can’t either.” She said.

            I shook my head. “I can’t, Rosie.”

            “I know you can’t, and that’s why I told you. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to live this life anymore. I don’t want to live a life where I’m afraid to walk outside. I’ve come to terms with my decision of suicide and I’m ready to go.” She said.

            “You’re ready to go? Did you tell Emmie or your parent’s good-bye? You can just live with the fact that Emmie is losing a sister and your parents are losing a daughter? What about me? I’m going to lose you, the best and only friend I’ve ever had.” I snapped.

            “Cora, I’m already dead on the inside.” She ripped off her bracelets, exposing her scars. “See, now? I’m already dead.”

. . . . . . . . .

            Rosie spent the night one last time. Everything was perfect. We watched our favorite movies and order take-out. We gushed about the boys we were crushing on. It all felt normal. It felt like nothing ever happened between the two of us.

            When we finally lay down to go to bed, the realization hit that this was the last night we would spend together, our last sleep-over, our last girl’s night.  I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking of everything that we would never get to do together.

            I woke up the next morning, eyes burning from crying the night before. I looked over the blow-up mattress and started crying again. Rosie was gone. I didn’t leave my bedroom after she left. I had no appetite, no need for human interaction. I waited in my room for the phone call I was dreading. I waited for my mom to yell to me, saying that she was dead, that she took her own life.

            The call came at 11:45 that night. Rosie took her own life shortly before 10. Emmie found the body. My mom and I held each other as we cried. I kept thinking about Emmie. I kept seeing her face as she found her dead sister’s body. I kept thinking that I could have stopped her death.

            The night before Rosie’s funeral, Rosie’s mom stopped by to give me something Rosie wrote me.

            “Emmie found this on Abbie’s desk and I wanted to make sure you had it.” She handed me a letter and started to walk away but stopped. “Cora?”

            “Yeah?” I asked.

            “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to my Abbie. And, I hope you are doing well. I hope to see you there tomorrow to give a final good-bye to Abbie.” She said and walked away.

            I opened the letter:

            Cora Bear,

                        Remember when I gave you that nickname? I still have the bear I named after you when we went to Build-A-Bear. We had some great times together. I could not have imagined a better friend to tell all my secrets to and spend all my time with. You never once gave up on our friendship when I isolated myself. You never once stopped believing that we would be best friends forever. You never once thought less of me, especially after I told you what happened, and I think that will be what I take with me when I leave.

            Cora, none of this is your fault and I need you to understand that. What that guy did to me is my fault. It’s my fault that I put myself into a situation to let that happen to me. And, I’m kicking myself for letting it happen. I should have known nothing good would come from talking to some guy on the internet. I’ve read articles, seen TV shows over it, but it didn’t stop me from doing it.

            I wish I was more like you, Cora. So brave, pure, and smart. You would never have talked to some random guy on the internet let alone meet up with him. You always knew what to do in situations like that. I wish I would have told you about him. I guess I was just too nervous and ashamed of what you might say to me about it. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on your face when I told you. I was more afraid of disappointing you than my own mother, if that tells you anything.

            Cora, the point of this letter is to say good-bye. But I can’t bring myself to say good-bye to you because I will see you again. To me, this is more like a see you later. Remember our very first sleep-over? I told you I had to leave and said good-bye but you stop because it wasn’t good-bye? That’s what I think of this now. I will see you again. I just hope it’s not too soon. You, Cora, have a bright future ahead of you and I don’t want you to take your life because of me. You will find another friend, you will fall in love, you have a family, and you will have a career. Remember that, please. And, promise me that you will tell your children about me.

I love you, sister,

Rosie

            I looked up toward the sky and whispered, “I promise.” 

My Life is Going in One Direction

** If I can pull myself out of a terrible situation, then so can you. You just have to find a reason to fight. I found five. Here is how I feel about the five people I credit with helping me save my own life.**

One Direction:

                There comes a time in every young girl’s life when they fall for a boy. She sees the young boy every day and tries her very best to remember the sweet, velvet sound of his voice. She gets so obsessed with this boy that she thinks she’s in love, that nothing can come between them. She kisses a picture of him good-night, hoping that he would soon notice her. She knows anything and everything that has to do him, stuff that even his own mother wouldn’t know. She has fallen for a celebrity.

                Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, and Harry Styles, to me, you five are that “celebrity” that I’ve fallen in love with. The funny thing about my relationship with you is that it’s different than the relationship the young girls hope for. For those little girls, they are love-struck with your popularity, while, for me, I am truly in love with you all.

                I fell in love with the fact that you see the beauty in everyone and everything. You see the beauty in your fans. You call them passionate rather than crazy. You talk to them from your hotel rooms. You make sure they’re safe while waiting to see you. You give them the hope and love any young girl or teenage girl yearns for. Happiness. You make them happy. You make me happy.

                I fell in love with your personalities and your smiles. I fell in love with the way you five acted towards each other. I fell in love with your voices. But mostly, I fell in love with the way you made me feel like I was meant to be someone, the way you made believe I was beautiful, the way you made me feel safe. I fell in love with the way the five of you saved my life.       

                Three years ago, I was slipping into a very bad place. I would look in the mirror and get disgusted with myself (I’m what you would call chubby and not that very attractive). I found myself often comparing myself to models and people at my school. I never did anything right at home nor did I have amazing grades like my brother did. I wasn’t near as smart as he was and he told me that all the time. My grandparents would send newspaper clippings to my mom about obesity and diabetes, and exercise and weight loss to show to me. I never felt so bad before until I saw those clippings. I know my body isn’t the right size for my height but they made it seem like I liked living this way and made me feel even worse about myself. I felt cornered and had no one to talk to. I only had one good friend but she was fighting her own battles, and I wasn’t social enough to talk to anyone else. I felt and was alone.

                I was depressed. My grades took a turn for the worse and I could barely get out of bed for school. I put on a smile and pretended everything was okay when I went to school and when I was around my friends (It was rare to see me with anyone but the one friend I was talking about before). I was so good at it. No one ever thought that there was anything wrong with me. At night, I would cry myself to sleep and imagine a life where I was perfect in every way. But when reality hit, my perfect world went away.

                I heard about you over twitter and decided it wouldn’t hurt to look you up on YouTube. I fell in love instantly. I watched all your video diaries and your performances on X Factor, and it changed my life. Your video diaries got me to really laugh for the first time in months and it was a nice feeling. I listened to your performances over and over again for months and months as I waited patiently for your first single, album, anything. For the first time, I felt like myself and that’s all I ever wanted. I just wanted to love myself.

                When “What Makes You Beautiful” was released, I thought that I was truly beautiful. I listened to that song on repeat for weeks before I got the courage to start living my life the way I wanted to. My grades got better and I smiled all the time. It was, for once, my real smile. I felt on top of the world. I felt like nothing could stop me from being happy.

                Love ruined my happiness this time. I was head-over-heels in love with one of my brother’s friends. He was so nice to me. The way I felt around him was different than any feelings I’ve ever had before. I honestly thought it was love at first sight for me. Not so much for him. When he looked at me, it felt like he was looking right through me, like I was invisible. But when I realized he didn’t feel the same way about me, I felt worthless and thought that no one would love me. Depression was becoming a very close friend of mine. I tried listening to “What Makes You Beautiful” like I did before. It didn’t have an effect on me like the first time I turned to it for happiness.

                Instead, I watched your video diaries and your performances on the X Factor again, and I listened to the whole album of “Up All Night” on a daily basis. After a little while, I was myself again. And then “Take Me Home” was released and I felt on top of the world once more. “Little Things” had the most impact on me and I’m not quite sure why, but it did. It was the same way with “Kiss You” and “Live While We’re Young.” All your songs made me feel like the teenager I wanted to be instead of the one that I was becoming. I took control of everything that was happening to me and made it positive.

                “Midnight Memories” is by far the best album you’ve written. Every single song is relatable. When I feel myself going to a bad place, all I have to do is listen to “Diana.” It feels like that song was written for me, even though I know it wasn’t because I know I’m not the only one in a bad place. And saying that it was somehow written for me might make me seem a little selfish because a lot of other people are in far worse places than I am, but if being selfish saves my life, then selfish is what I’ll be. When I listen to that song, I can actually imagine you five coming to my rescue. “Diana” is the hand that is pushing me away from the edge.

                However, I have come to realize that I’ve been influenced by you all too much. I have come to realize that I can’t think I’m beautiful just because four British guys and one Irish guy tell me that I am. Well, you never really told me I am, but that’s how I portray it in “What Makes You Beautiful.” I need to be able to realize it on my own. You helped me through depression, problems with my family, and facing my first heartbreak. But, what you can’t help me do is feel beautiful. Trust me, I’ve tried and tried to convince myself that you think I’m beautiful, that all girls are. Let’s face it, you can’t say that. You’ve never met us, never met me.  You don’t know our problems. You don’t truly know if we’re beautiful or not.

                I decided to tell you MY story because I believe you have the right to know how you’ve helped me. I also decided to tell you MY story because, in a weird way, I think of you as my best friends. And, honestly, I couldn’t imagine any other guys being my friend’s like you’ve been to me. But, I mainly told you MY story because of what I said about being “beautiful” and how you don’t truly know if someone is beautiful. Now, you know my problems and what all I’ve been through. Maybe now, I can truly be beautiful in someone’s eyes.

                I told you all of this because this is an appreciation letter and a thank you letter wrapped into one. I don’t think of you five as saving my life. It’s more like you gave me the strength to save my own life. I was headed down a dark path before I heard about you. Who knows where I would be if you all were never on the X Factor, and I don’t really want to think about that.  You gave me the strength to realize that I needed to love myself before I could go out and chase my dreams. And that’s what I’m doing. I graduated high school in the top 50 of my class with an Honor’s Diploma. I’m in college now, Ball State University, working on my degree in Creative Writing and Journalism. I’m happy about where my life is at the moment and it’s because of all of you.

                So, Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, and Louis Tomlinson, thank you so much for giving me the strength to be myself. Thank you for being there when no one else was. Thank you for showing me that life is worth living. Thank you for telling me to chase my dreams. And, lastly, thank you for helping me feel beautiful inside and out. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Thank you all for being who you are.

Gone

Sparkling white teeth and bright green eyes haunt me at night, wise thoughts and sweet words fall from his mouth. He hovers over me, a paper airplane necklace hanging from his neck, dangling in front of my face. I reach out to grab it, only for it to disappear. “Harry?” I whisper. I hear him laugh. Looking around, the room is dark. No one is here. Flipping over onto my stomach, I picture his handsome face just inches away from mine, how I woke up every day for five years. I could feel his presence, like a cold burst of air on a warm July night, reminding me of my loss and heart break. He was the love of my life. The bright light that shown through at my darkest of times; the savior that I desperately needed to keep me sane; and, the sweetness when I was sour. He visits me most nights, gracing me with his presence, and leaving me with an overwhelming feeling of love and protection.   

Anti-Gay Day and Bullying

In recent news, students in PA thought it would be beneficial to some to make up a day called “Anti-Gay” day, the day after “Day of Silence,” that recognizes the bullying gays and lesbians have to endure on a daily basis. When will all this end? Who are YOU to judge others based on who they love? How are two males or two females, who love each other, affecting you in any way? See, that’s what I don’t understand about people. Do you think your relationship between one male and one female is affecting them in any way? NO. So why should their relationship affect you?

I don’t like bringing religion into things, but it seems to be the underlying problem with all this controversy. I honestly think that if you have a problem with gays and lesbians, then you have some problem within your religion. I haven’t read the bible (I’d probably burst into flames if I touched it), but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to judge your “brothers and sisters.” But, what do I know, right? Let me tell you what I know. I know I’ve been told on multiple occasions that “God” loves all his “children” or “creations.” Well, if that’s the case, tell me this then. If “God” loves his “children” so much, why can’t he love gays and lesbians? He “created” them too. And, if you think being gay is someone’s choice then you need to get your head out of your ass and take a look around. Being gay isn’t some disease, it’s who the person is. If you have a problem with that, then there is something wrong with YOU. Not them.

I’ll leave you with the wise words of Macklemore: “And "God loves all his children" is somehow forgotten, but we paraphrase a book written thirty-five-hundred years ago.”   

1980s

Like The Breakfast Club,

Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles,

And the Outsiders, your life

Was like a movie.

Fun, nice, cool,

And a lie.

Euphoria

I love bright colored pens that bring color to my life when I write.

I love the idea that nothing lasts forever, that forever isn’t forever.

I love the fact that I’m allowed to believe in whatever my heart desires.

I love that being in love is such a euphoric feeling.

I love all the members of a boyband that continues to take over the world.

I love overcoming the worst challenges in my life.

I love knowing that what I do has the potential to help others who are going through what I did.

I love finding new passions.

I love getting my nails done, feeling like the woman that I am.

What I love the most, however . . .

I love the idea that I saved myself from ending my life when my life wasn’t started yet. 

Average or Beautiful?

It’s been brought to my attention that women in this day and age don’t see themselves clearly. I have fallen victim to this same problem. The sad thing is that society condones this. I know I can’t blame something or someone for thinking I’m not beautiful. I mean, how can you think you’re beautiful when everywhere you look you see Karlie Kloss on magazines, a stick-thin, beautiful fashion model? Or Taylor Swift, with her blue eyes and bright red lips. What about Cara Delevingne? Or maybe Behati Prinsloo? What about the Kardashian sisters? How could it be easy for anyone to believe that they can compare to these women?

Looking in the mirror at myself, I don’t see anything spectacular.  My red hair that is naturally wavy, but I straighten it, falls a little above my shoulders. I have green eyes, a small nose, and somewhat straight teeth. I wear glasses. I have big cheeks. I’m not stick-thin. Hell, I’m not even skinny. My thighs are huge. I get my nails done. I wear make-up every day; I can’t go a day without wearing some. I refuse to wear shorts because I don’t like my legs. I don’t go anywhere without wearing a jacket of some sort because I think my arms are disgusting. I’m not Karlie Kloss or Taylor Swift or Cara Delevinge or Behati Prinsloo.

BUT I AM ME.

AND YOU ARE YOU.

Who am I to tell anyone that they’re beautiful when I don’t believe that I’m beautiful? You know that quote “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder”? I never used to believe in such a thing. But I’ve learned through the years that it truly is in the eye of the beholder…. YOU.  Once you believe that you’re beautiful, nothing can stop you from thinking everyone else thinks you’re beautiful too.

You don’t have to be Karlie Kloss, Taylor Swift, Cara Delevinge, or Behati Prinsloo to be beautiful. You just have to be YOU.

In the new Dove campaign, women choose between two different doors: “average” and “beautiful”. Most of the women in the video choose the “average” door because they don’t believe themselves to be more than that. It’s a very powerful campaign, and sends the right message to young girls who have yet to go through the craziness.

Dove’s campaign: bit.ly/1aF6NsY