life of haleigh

I find the easiest way for me to describe my point is through a story.... which, if you’ve been here a while, is common in almost everything I do. In my last year of high school, I decided to throw a party for me and all my girl friends. I was going to invite my “close” group, or the people I’ve known since, like, forever, and then I thought, why not just invite all the fun people I’ve wanted to get to know at the same time? Thank god I did. Because after I had went out after work and bought a bunch party supplies, decorations, snacks, set up the music, got everything ready, I got a text message that would eventually change my life forever, as little as it seems. I opened my phone to find that one of my best friends was going to have her own party. 3 hours before mine was set to start. I was doing my hair in my bedroom and my stomach sank to the floor. I felt so dumb. Why why why why would my friends do this to me???? Okay, I get it I HaVE sO MAny PrObleMs, but I was...

I spent a long time writing and rewriting this. Deleting the stories I wrote when my feelings were different.  For me, I’ve always had a rough definition of what it meant to be happy. Some days, it meant that all my friends came over and we swam in the lake and watched movies and laughed all night long. Other days it’s crawling in between my mom and dad in bed and watching the news as we all fall asleep. On my good days, happy means almost anything. It means getting told I’m doing a good job at work, or someone validating my purpose. It means wearing new shoes, getting ice cream after dinner, it means my parents had a good day at work, it means my sister is bringing her puppies over later. On bad days, happy seems to be a lot more of a distant, foreign term to me. It feels like a fruit growing at the top a tree just a little too high to reach. On those days, happy moments are few and far between, and they mean a lot more. Like I said before, I struggled about knowing...