It's been real, LC

Tonight I graduated high school. Photos were taken, hands were shaken, and my diploma was received. I threw my cap and kissed high school goodbye and got the hell out of the Star Plaza theater before the tears started to escape.  
It still doesn't feel real. Between prom, senior banquet and my final days as a high-schooler, the cathartic feeling is overbearing. Here I am, a high school graduate, but it's almost as if I have no idea how I got here or how four years flew by in what seemed like a blink of an eye. 
As much as I gripe about high school, my finest memories did not go down with the bricks as the old building crumbled to dust. I'll always carry memories of walking laps around C-hall with my friends or playing hide-and-go-seek in the pitch-black library with the pub girls. I'll remember performing in improv shows with the most talented thespians and spending 16 hours at school for tech night rehearsals. I'll miss late-night yearbook epiphanies and even hair-tearing stressful deadline nights. Leaving my life-changing teachers and administrators behind is going to be a tough thing to do, but their wise words and lessons will stick with me for the rest of my life. 
So I hung up my cap and put away my chords and medals and turned the page into a new chapter of my life as a high school graduate. 
After all, graduating high school is about saying goodbye to the "good" and saying hello to the "great." 

On my way up

I hate posting anything sad or negative on social media. I hate seeing myself in such a dark place let alone broadcasted for everyone to see. So for that reason, I haven't blogged in over a month.

But here I am. These past few weeks have felt like years, but somehow I muddled through. The world was crumbling around me and I felt trapped in my own head. The yearbook was going down the toilet, a day didn't go by where I wasn't fighting with my parents, and I lost interest in anything that I once found enjoyable. I stopped eating, cried myself to sleep, and had trouble focusing because the war inside my head was too loud. I kept a happy facade, but inside I felt desolate. I was at my lowest point and I lost my boyfriend, my faith, and my love for myself. I grew 100 years older.

But when I hit rock bottom, I learned that I could only go up from there.

After a little bit of help from an amazing support system, I got back on my feet and started my long stretch toward the girl I used to be.

I now appreciate how the smallest things are what makes life worth living. 
Taking long car rides with my sisters with the top down and The Vaccines blaring. 
Indulging in oversized Reese's peanut butter cups. 
Devouring an entire book in a day. 
Hugging someone you love. 
Traveling to the most amazing city [my future home] and taking every second in. 
Planning a graduation party.
Sharing laughs and tears and hugs with your former English teacher.
Drinking coffee. 
Watching the sunrise.
Having a sleepover. 
Being genuinely happy when things goes your way and laughing at the situation when things don't. [because no matter what, everything turns out just fine] 

xxx

Sister Club

   My sisters and I are best friends. They are 14 and 16, but it has always felt like we are all the same age. We help one another out in our own ways, and our very diverse personalities mesh into what I think is a flawless blend. We have a bond that I deem unique as opposed to many other siblings. We are so cohesive and loving and it seems like when one of us is absent or not feeling herself, the other two suffer. It's an enigma how we thrive on one another's company, but I love it more than anything in the world.

   When we were younger, my sisters and I used to have the "sister club," an all-exclusive clique in which all members must be blood-related female siblings. We thought we were the coolest thing to have ever happened in the neighborhood. We hand-made flags, created "spy kits" and wrote several full-length dramatic pieces that we forced our parents to silently appreciate from assigned seats on the couch. We often times got so lost in our own little world that five, six, seven hours of creative play would go by before our parents called us up to take breaks for lunch and dinner.

   We had conjured up dozens of completely original "games" with full story lines and a complex cast list and often would fight our parents to stay up late playing in our fictional fantasy. The sister club had sleepovers, movie nights, and "trade shows" in which we swapped candy for erasers or earrings for stuffed animals. We had [and still have] an inseparable bond. 

  The "sister club" remains strong and vital, even in our high school years. We often go out to dinner, get manicures, or just sit around and laugh at embarrassing videos of ourselves until we can hardly breathe. This past weekend, we made a "sister bucket list" of adventures we want to undertake before I leave for college this fall. 

   Thinking about leaving my sisters next year makes my heart yearn for our younger days of endless Barbie games and "bug hunting" in the backyard. I feel sick to my stomach when I imagine the thousands of miles that will separate our overtired giggles and nightly school outfit consultations, but I know we will remain close when the time comes for me to move out. 

   Currently, my mom and her siblings are having a really hard time communicating and getting along with one another. They barely have phone conversations and rarely see one another. It makes me feel so fortunate to have siblings I can call my best friends. I truly am the luckiest.

xxx

here are [quite a few] photos of my sisters and I. we have thousands upon thousands, but these were the most accessible/least publicly humiliating (trust me, I have blackmail beyond belief!)