People are who they say they are.... but who they truly are is not necessarily conveyed through words.I've learned this agonizing lesson time and time and TIME again. I don't just live for handing out second chances like microwave wings at Sam's Club, I award first chances-- initial chances to people I've already made a hypothesis that something about them is "questionable." I allow complete skeezes to leech my most valuable resource: time. I used to think this was a habit of younger Stephanie; the naive girl that believed bff really was forever and one matching bracelet could link two people through adulthood. This was the same girl that was devastated when her "bff" from 6th grade not only kissed her crush in front of her while muttering the words, "what's wrong?" but, had the audacity to snake a guy about to ask her to the spring fling. She didn't even have the nerve to confess her actions... had another friend, whom also later engaged in betrayal, tell the ugly truth. This is also the girl who believed when a military guy's orders didn't quite line up, his "working late" alibis had gaps, and his intentions were strictly manipulative and sexual, he still cares about you and wants to take you to prom. This girl had grown up. This girl had learned a great deal from experiences as well as books; as she learned from bruises and bloody scars. This girl learned that blood is no thicker than tap water or bottom shelf vodka, but it stings just as much. She learned that love always has conditions and they only become more apparent with age. She learned spring cleaning applies to all facets of her life, especially friendship. You are who you hang out with and "if you start hanging with trash, you're going to smell like it." She learned she could be as vengeful as the least of her friends and she had to check her mental. She knew how it felt to the nth degree and cultivated the art of "pushing away." She learned this as a little girl on the playground, the first time her pink converse pushed away from the earth with great momentum. As the swing wizzed through the humid air, she smiled at her strength and glimpse of control. She pushed away people with a high probability of her harming. There was never an intentional plan for harm, but when she feared their attachment or even projected dependency was greater than her's, she fled. She strives to "save them" even today. One thing, however, she never mastered was to push away those that possessed the ability to harm her with no remorse. She let people into her planner and home. Quickly followed by her trust, which was down the street from her heart. While on the sidewalk, they would exhibit reckless behavior and seedy intentions, but the door was still opened, with fresh-squeezed lemonade at the door. The neighbors or worst of all, the out-of-towners, would parade the sidewalk for all the lemonade they could drink without stepping foot inside. The lemon tree flourished with tart resilience, but the sugar canister was hallowed of every granule. Depleted from
She realized, she has to fill her own sugar jar and sparingly share the lemonade; when you're left on the porch swing looking out at the world, sometimes just one glass of lemonade you've created is all you need.
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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