I Am Terribly Lucky.

I know I've spun this kind of post before, but as the holidays fast approach, I just can't help myself. Explanation time.

I am terribly lucky. I am scarily blessed. I have a family, a family who loves me, who supports me, who knows me more than anyone ever has or will know me. They know my deepest regrets, my biggest flaws, my greatest triumphs and my proudest moments. They love me because of it, sometimes despite it.

There are people out there who are lonely and alone, whose holidays are nothing more than chance to catch up on TV, a chance to splurge on the good wine, a short break from work or responsibilities. I am beyond glad I am not one of those people. I have people to look forward to, all year every year that I love more than I thought I could love. I have people to make me laugh, to make me cry, to humble me, to remind me of my flaws (with the greatest of love, naturally). I have people to answer to, someone to call at 2 a.m. when no one else in the world would take my call. It gives me legitimate chills to think of the greatest people that make up my family.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I take it for granted, amidst a raging battle when no one will back down, when tempers flare and pride will not take leave. But then my heart swells and I remember that no matter what I do, I cannot talk them out of their love for me. Believe me, I've tried. Love is a rarity in this world, made small and unique by indifference and hate, so the fact that I have it, exponentially so, makes me the luckiest girl in the world. I get to have love, unconditionally, as long as I live. What did I do to deserve such a blessing?

We are all human, try as we might to persuade ourselves otherwise. My biggest fear is that they will forget, that my family will break and lose the love. Yes, I know, it is an irrational fear to the max, but one that occasionally gets me at my moments of weakness. Fortunately, I am young and have decades ahead to be proven wrong, with my family ever by my side.

I am frighteningly lucky and I would never, ever change that.

Deal With The Hand You're Dealt

Here's the thing.

Lately, I've gotten the sneaking suspicion that I am, in fact, not a nice person. Maybe I'm not sweet, maybe I'm not good. I've always thought my tough, sardonic outer person was hiding the sensitive, saccharine girl who I really am. The person I act like was merely a wall to keep others (friends, acquaintances, teachers, family, EVERYONE) from hurting me.

As it turns out, that might not be the case.

I'm beginning to think that the deadpan humor mixed with a certain amount of apathy towards the insane emotions of others (namely females, as it happens) has burned the sweetness out of me to the core.

Let me explain.

As I've no doubt mentioned, I'm the president of an organization this year, something I was looking so so forward to. I am a leader, I've been told this by countless people, and I am certain they are right, mostly because I am certain I am not a follower. As the semester goes on, though, I'm realizing I am much more Machiavellian than I ever realized. Ever since I realized the Prince had something with that whole fear over love thing, I never thought I would be the one to practice it. But there's something about watching a girl cry over something you said to her followed by not caring and glancing at the clock instead of blushing to really hit a point home.

Even with the other organizations and classes I'm involved in, I'm realizing I am much more the mumble a joke under her breath, role my eyes at the weaker followers and strive to hold a position of power type of person. Therefore, I'm attracted to those who are like me, cultivating many new friends, than those who I wanted to be like, the simpering fools who focus on their feelings than the constructive (and yes it's always constructive) criticism I just gave them. The bottom line is that I am not nice anymore, maybe I never was, but I know what is right and what is wrong, which is good enough for me, and at the very least, I am never, ever fake or untrue to who I am. Not anymore.

So I'm mean. I'm impatient. I'm what many would call a bitch. But, I get the job done and I do it well. That is something that can go on my resume.