What Happens When You Go Viral: On Wanting to Give Up

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Such Small Hands

I recently found out that the hit count on my Relevant article back in June was over 1.6 million. The editor told me it was the second-biggest traffic day in the history of their website. That’s mind-boggling to me.

If you had asked me a year ago what I thought it would mean to have a piece get that much exposure, I would have assumed it would be my big break. That it would boost my blog, lead to freelance opportunities, help connect me to the right people. That it would be my open door into the world of professional writing and publishing. That it would bring me validation and satisfaction. It would reassure me that what I’m doing here isn’t pointless and that my story matters.

Do you want to know the truth?

It hasn’t done any of those things. For a few weeks I received a lot of…

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My Parent’s are getting old

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Just a few thoughts…

Imperfect Writer: My Journey to Finding Myself

My dad has began to uncover that his father is getting older, he has began to the stories in his lines, to notice the notches in his back, and life that one flickered with jubliance slowly begin to burn out. My father has begun to fear death and old age not for his sack but for his father’s. For years this carried on until I began to notice it within my own father.

My dad has begun to tell me stories about things I have never known of before, he’s begun to tell me secrets that he would’ve kept from me and tell me situations that he once believed would break me. And for years, since I was ten I had always known that death would one day claim him. That like my grandfather, my dad will too. One day grow old and slowly burn out. I began to think…

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My Parent’s are getting old

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My dad has began to uncover that his father is getting older, he has began to the stories in his lines, to notice the notches in his back, and life that one flickered with jubliance slowly begin to burn out. My father has begun to fear death and old age not for his sack but for his father’s. For years this carried on until I began to notice it within my own father.

My dad has begun to tell me stories about things I have never known of before, he’s begun to tell me secrets that he would’ve kept from me and tell me situations that he once believed would break me. And for years, since I was ten I had always known that death would one day claim him. That like my grandfather, my dad will too. One day grow old and slowly burn out. I began to think of ways I could bring life to them.

Maybe if I did good on a test, or if I drew like him, or sung for him. That he would stay a little longer, breath a little deeper, be here with me for another year. I believed that maybe if I could just be a good girl, if I followed all of his rules that he would live on in me.

But like most things I came to find out, that the harder you grip on to it. The faster it will disappear from your grasp.

It wasn’t until recently that I heard the words, “Go on be the best Christine you can be” from my father that I discovered that the best way to remember my father was through being myself. My father has taught me how to live in this world, but he had never taught me how to be him. My father never put limitations on me because of his fears and thoughts. But he has always told me to do what I dreamed and desired to do. That if God says it. Do it. Never let anyone, nobody, even him get in my way of my purpose in life.

My father is getting old, but I do not fear death will take him away from me. Cause I have a piece of my father inside me. The freedom and will to become who I am is because of him.

He came through the door with roses and food…

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My Special Guy, flawed but perfect as he is XD

Imperfect Writer: My Journey to Finding Myself

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For the last month from October 8th till today November 14th, it has been the most amazing month for me. I haven’t dated a lot of guys. In fact I have only been serious about 3 out the 8 guys I have dated in my life. And the first one lasted on sheer willpower and nothing else. I have always been attracted to guys I could never have and took a chance on guys I normally I wouldn’t consider to be prize material. But this guy, he’s different.

He’s special.

So when I woke up this morning, to find in his hands a small bouquet of roses with a card attached and breakfast in the other hand. I discovered myself finally accepting what I have been feeling for this guy for the last three weeks.

My sweet T, is goofy, tall, a used to be fat kid (not in a…

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He came through the door with roses and food…

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10641113_10205438761398124_5688559941057019641_n

For the last month from October 8th till today November 14th, it has been the most amazing month for me. I haven’t dated a lot of guys. In fact I have only been serious about 3 out the 8 guys I have dated in my life. And the first one lasted on sheer willpower and nothing else. I have always been attracted to guys I could never have and took a chance on guys I normally I wouldn’t consider to be prize material. But this guy, he’s different.

He’s special.

So when I woke up this morning, to find in his hands a small bouquet of roses with a card attached and breakfast in the other hand. I discovered myself finally accepting what I have been feeling for this guy for the last three weeks.

My sweet T, is goofy, tall, a used to be fat kid (not in a offensive way! He used to be 400 pds before meeting me and is trying to lose weight. He has made it so far, I’m so proud of him. He’s trying to stay healthy.) And yes he is a bit of a dirty mouth but also polite, understanding and a young comedian. My snufflelogus is everything I would overlook or be terrified of (he’s super tall, 6’6 in fact. And before and even now, for some reason I am extremely intimidated by super tall people. I’m 5’5 just give you an idea of how much of a height difference there is between us). My bubble butt though flawed is my special guy.

When I am away from him I feel edgy and yearn to be by his side. I think about the warmth of his body, the scent of his nape, the feel of his skin. When I’m with him I want time to slow time and to never leave his side. ( In fact everytime I leave him, I feel a little lonely. Cause I feel he’s the only one who gets me and accepts me, for me.) When I’m out with him I don’t care about others and how they look at us and our goofiness, he’s the only one in the world for me. And even if he does something silly, I can’t help but laugh with all my heart. When I go all nerdy and game freaky, he accepts me for my love of games, cartoons and animes. When I think of something he always thinks of it first before I can even say it.

One night when his friends was over and I was super drunk. I remember I made him slightly mad and I remember I sat on his lap and took his cheeks in my hands. And told him, “You are different, you are special” and that though I may connect with others differently. When I’m with him, its like nothing else matters. (Even remembering this now my stomach aches) I told him, that he is special. That out of all the guys I have dated. He was special.

Special.

So when I read the card attached to the small bouquet of roses and saw this small message inside:

Christy, you mean a lot to me. So much so that I rushed buying this gift for you and mispelled your name!

I’m glad we took a chance on each other.

So many more fun times and laughs ahead.

-T.

There was only one thing on my mind.

If only I could tell him at that moment, what I have been holding in my chest since that night I called him special.

“I love you.”

And I know only a month passed. But I can’t help whispering it when I see him go, when he kisses my lips, when he holds me hands, when he warms my skin. I can’t help thinking these words. That yearn to slip between my lips, to tickle his ears, to stain the air.

One day I hope to tell him, I want to tell him. And when I do.

I hope to hear him, say….

I love you too.”

My special guy.

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