life of haleigh

Four, almost five months ago, my life changed. I would say it changed forever but I still don’t know if it’s changed forever or just for now. For the people that know me, this story is probably boring, sad, and over-told. I get that. It’s probably annoying to hear about the worst day of someone’s life over and over and over again. And I can see how the feelings that come from someone who is suffering can become a burden on those around them. They just want to help. I know that. They feel defeated when they can’t. My whole life, everything has been almost laid out perfectly, like an outfit on my bed, or paint swatches for the spare bedroom. I have made easy choices, had complete control, had complete understanding of yesterday and tomorrow and the future. Then I crashed my car. Pretty badly. In the moments after the crash, hanging upside down, suspended by my seatbelt with my legs squished underneath the dash, I felt myself change. The airbags were slowly deflating, and the l...

To the person I loved and lost, I couldn’t figure out how to tell you this with my words so I’m gonna do it the way I know best: writing. I want to ask you how you are. How you really are. I wanna tell your mom happy belated birthday, and pet your dogs. I want to give you back the shirt I borrowed that day after we came home from the lake, but I don’t because it’s my favourite and it reminds me of you. I want to hear what your friend from home has to say about last weekend, and I want to tell you about the crazy thing I saw on my drive home from school. I wish I could still rush home to tell you this kind of stuff. I want to sing to Taylor Swift in the car with you. I want to laugh about the fact that her one song sounds like it's saying "gotta lonely Starbucks lover." I want to tell you why it scares me to sing in the car these days . I want you to at least pretend to understand like you used to. I want to tell you that I ripped my favourite jeans and I got a...

I remember the day I realized that everyone grows up. My sister (who is substantially older than me and also the best person in the world) and I used to play dolls. Like Bratz, and Barbie’s, Polly Pockets (we chewed on their rubber clothes, lol), and Pet Shops. All of it. And we didn’t just play a little bit. We built mansions, cities even. We made names, had characters, left the houses up for days behind the couch and annoyed my mom, it was the kind of thing that any 6-year-old would only dream about. When she got a bit older, and realized that I worshiped the ground she walked on, she made up games for me like “maid” where I would do all her chores while she watched MTV Cribs. And “spa” where I would paint her nails and run a bath with candles lit. We also played “school” where she was my teacher and she made up awesome little projects for me to work on. She was nothing short of amazing and creative. I loved it. And older still, she started to do my hair and makeup. This w...

Those people. You know the ones. They're bad. They don’t call you unless they need something, they are socially unaware, they spend their days in self-absorbed harmony with themselves and those around them.  It’s the ones who are constantly raining on your parade. Forgetting to acknowledge your existence. Talking bad behind your back to mutual friends. Bad people. You know the ones. If you’ve begun to get a person in mind of who this may be for you, I’m sorry. But I have good news. I’m here to tell you it gets better. Growing up, that person for me was a lot of different people. And l’ll deny it if you tell anyone, but at one point, the bad person was me. But at other points in my life, I spent a lot of time wondering if, maybe I was the common denominator. Maybe I was the person who was the bad person to those around me. Well, my friends, I’ve realized a lot since then. For a long time, until maybe last year in fact, I was caught up in wondering, “why didn’t I ge...

I almost spoke my own death into existence. I won’t go into details (still suffering and it kinda hurts to talk about it!! Really good, all love!!) BUT, I’ve developed a theory. And in true scientist style, I’ve tested it over and over again. I’m positive this is science. So when you say things, like “I’ve never had that happen to me” and then you voraciously knock on a piece of wood, that’s kind of your way of speaking things into the universe and then stopping them from blossoming into existence. For example, one time I told my friend after she crashed her bike, “wow! I’ve never crashed my bike before.” And you can guess what happened the. Next. Day. So anyways as I laid in bed, bandages on my knees and an ice pack over my black eye, I thought, “it’s because I didn’t knock on wood.” Foolish, young me. Knocking on wood wouldn’t have changed a thing. It’s because I said it. Out loud. I. Spoke. It. Into. Existence. Now that I’m older, I look back and think about all th...

There is a conversation that plays in my head from time to time and although it was significant to me, I didn’t realize its power at the time. It goes like this: Me: “dad, if there is one thing you could go back and change in your life what would it be?” Dad: “I wouldn’t change anything.” Me: “okay but if you could do something different.” Long pause. Me: “dad?” Dad: “I would tell young me to stop caring what everyone thinks of me.” And he turned the TV on. The conversation was over for him. He said maybe the first thing that came to his mind so he could put the hockey game back on. For me, I replayed his words over and over and over. I had so much more to ask. But I thought to myself.... "but you don’t care what people think of you though” and that’s when it hit me.  I cared so much. Did I smile and say thank you? Did she like my picture? Do I look like I’m having fun? Is this outfit too much? Can I sit beside this stranger in class? Can I raise m...