A very recent event caused me to write on said topic and after some time reflecting on it, I came to the following conclusion I will present in that essay. I will be writing about the incompetence of seeing the bigger picture, the effects of blaming, and how mankind lost its reflection. Note that even though this is an essay and I try to view things from an objective view, this will include some helpful impulses, to implement into your daily behavior.
I am trying to understand how I can make money off of writing a blog, like who would even tip this form of expression after reading it? I don’t know, maybe some people like to spend their money on the internet. Maybe, even, I might reach a high number of engagements and a hundred of those people might just feel a pinch in their hearts and feel the need to support this girl. The only possible way I can see this happening is because I need money, and I am on a mission to end poverty.
Cher said it best "If I could turn back time". Today as I am thinking back. I have been in Springfield almost a year. What got me here to this place? Did I believe that 5 years ago when I started in Illinois that my life would have taking this turn? That three ago my life went a wrong left turn. What was thinking of and what I can't let seem to understand. What did I do to this man to make him pick me? I think this is a question that will hang in my mind forever. Why me?
Epic Romances, what are they truly? Who judges how or why they are epic? Generations and decades full of them. Why those ones and not others? We talk of soulmates, one true loves, and twin flames; but what are we really talking about? Is there destined to be one perfectly imperfect person for each of us, even though seven billion of us live on this earth? Forgive me, but I am not fully sold on this idea or notion.
It was 2003 I got pregnant by Darrin, even though I was a promiscuous young lady just getting out there in the world testing out my royal oats really. But I knew it was his baby I didn’t tell him that I was pregnant while I was pregnant. I call my grandmother and I told her my situation. She told me I will take you to parent plan hood and I will never speak of this... I said okay thank you Granma.
Hello everyone, how are you today...
Is it possible to be too much of a nice person?
Everyone has that story. The story that shapes who you are, or who you will become. The story of facing adversity and over coming or succumbing to the darkness that humanity can be. I've seen darkness, I've lived in the darkness. And just when I thought my life was over, new life was breathed into my lungs and I began to thrive. This is my survival story. I guess I should say this is ONE of my survival stories, because sadly I have had more than one shitty experience in this life time. I can only hope that someone, or anyone, can relate and learn from the words that you are about to read. I can only hope that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to save someone.
We all have a story. Where we grew up, what sports we played, our family and friends we associate ourselves with, what we do for fun, etc. But the kicker is not all of us go out and tell people that story. Now, I know it can be hard for some people to share personal things about themselves with complete strangers but what if your story has the potential to have a real impact on someone's life? What if your story could change the projection of someone's life path? I want you to contemplate that as you continue to read on.
Being an introvert can be difficult by living in an extroverted world. I remember being bullied by family, friends and colleagues for being an introvert along with being shy. Until recently, when I started reading and listening to books about introverts I never even realised that I was an introvert.
There is a misunderstanding that comes along with forgiving. It is a topic of contention with people, and it makes sense. Forgiving is a complicated and complex subject and quite personal and hugely subjective. It is somewhat tailored to each person’s sensibilities, personality, and nature.
It was a bright fall day in the humid Midwest. Cicadas were screaming and the air smelled like hay. An 8 year old girl tugged at her black shorts, feeling extremely uncomfortable. She felt strange and fat. Her legs felt huge. Her arms felt awkward. The shorts were cutting into her skin. She felt nonathletic and embarrassed to be there. She was getting her picture taken for soccer and was happy. She felt anxious and itchy. The sad part was, she liked soccer a lot. She liked sports a lot. She was an active girl but she had started to think she was not enough and too much at the same time. She wasn't stick thin like other girls and she was tall and awkward. She didn't like how her body felt... mostly because no one had told her it was okay to be in a body like hers. All the women around her dieted and all the men commented on the women's bodies. How was she supposed to know any different?