Sew me softly.

Sometimes. I wear my shirt inside out.
Sometimes people notice. Other times, people don't.

"Hey Sam. Your shirt is inside out.
I can see your seam."

I think to myself:
I wish you could.

A shirt can be made out of beautiful fabric. 
But until it is sewn together, it is nothing but cloth.
It only has potential. 
I wish we could wear ourselves inside out.
So you could see the things that keep me together.
Or that can tear me apart.

All we really are, are pieces of cloth strung together hanging onto the hanger
for dear life.
Hoping somebody accepts us.
Some of us sell ourselves short, making us cheaper. 
So we persuade people by our cheapness and how easy we are to get. 
Even though we are one of the most 
beautiful pieces of clothing.
Even though the hands that made us, made us with care.
We just want to be bought. 
We just want to be worn. 
Felt love.
But the wearer doesn't really love you.
The wearer loves how cheap you were. How easily bought. 
No struggle to scavenge for money. 

The cloth we once were.
Full of color and brilliance. 
Is not appreciated. 
The time taken to sew each piece together is forgotten.
Sometimes. Never even noticed.  

If your wearer wore you inside out what would people see?
Better question is, what wouldn't they see?
They couldn't judge you because of your stretch marks or birth marks.
No longer are your scratched out names painted in ink shown.
The anger resulting in scars are no longer on display.

Just you. And your seams. 
The things that make you who you are.
Whether bad or good.
Whether uplifting or disappointing.
It is you. 
You can't cover yourself up by being the most elaborate shirt, if the shirt won't stay together.
 Customers may think you are beautiful in the beginning. 
But they soon realize what makes you, you.
Bad stitches. 

Luckily in both situations there is a chance.
A chance to be the most highly glorified shirt.
You can realize your worth. 
Go to a different store.
Be bought by people who care.
The fashionista. 
The model.
The designer.
Or you can make yourself better.
Go to a seamstress. 
Receive a good seam. 
Have beauty inside and out. 

We are all the same. 
Hanging on to the cold hanger. Waiting for a warm body to appreciate us.

Somebody already does.
That little girl on the other side of the glass.
Window shopping.
She sees your beauty.
Wait for her.
In a few years she will be able to drive her scarlet bug to your store
and wear you the way you deserve to be worn.

She's there. 
You're just to busy making note of other's designs and patterns to notice her.
Start looking out the window. 

Realize that girl is waiting for you.
Saving up her money.

Wait for her.
Don't go on sale. 
Don't fool people.
She's worth it.
She wants to love you.
But she can't unless you are still there when she can drive.

Imagine the excitement you would feel.
Seeing her scarlet bug pull up in front of your window.
No longer waiting.
But it was worth the wait.
The hard work for the seams was worth it.
The simplicity of going on sale denied.
And hard work.
That's all we need as a shirt with good seams.
Because good seams are worth it.

-The girl falling apart.

If your name starts with B
Ends with rit
And another t.
Then you my dear. My twin. My harry potter fanatic. Need to drop that AP Bio.



Right now. I'm on my phone. Typing this.
Isn't it amazing that I can be laying in my bed, and blogging at the same time?! Technology is great. Simply great.
Well sadly I know that I haven't written on my blog for quite some time. But it's been a hard while for me. I would explain, but it's way too long. So in the future I'll have a whole blog post all about it. But long story short, my brain lives in hell almost everyday because of my darn chronic migraines. But that's okay and that's life.

Anyways. I'm a senior now, and actually have been for a while now. And let me tell you I was sick of it by the end of day one.

"Oh Sam! You're gonna love being a senior! It's the best year."
Shut your mouth!
Dear future seniors: (and not like senior citizens...) (but if you are a senior citizen and know how to work the Internet without forwarding a billion emails, then good for you! You're one step ahead from my grandparents!) (ps. Will someone tell my grandma that I don't want an email about a horse? I don't like them.) IT'S A TRAP!
Seriously though. On the first day, you think you're so cool. I mean you're the oldest now! You rule the school! Then you look down, and you realize who you rule. You rule your old lame tenth grade self. But like way shorter. (They get shorter every year) Don't say you weren't lame during your sophomore year. Because we all were. Here's some pretty cool examples..
1. I never wore my hair up to school.
2. A kid told me he loved me right after our first kiss.
3. My backpack was hanging down to my butt.
4. I never wore sweats.
HA! What a joke now.
1. Now, I don't even look at myself in the mirror on most days. Nobody is worth the fuss at my school. Heck, Bryce isn't worth the fuss on some days. Sorry Bryce, but you go to college! (Why yes! Yes reader Bryce and I are still together. Crazy huh?more on that later though...)
2. Dear kid that said that: please take a serious look at yourself and pray to heavens above that you don't do that again. Now, don't think that I'm saying you can't be in love at a young age. Heck I started dating the man I love at age 16. But really? That was kinda quick, don't you think? I mean, I know I'm insanely charming and enchanting, but come on!
3. That was cool when you were in sixth grade. Wait, no. One arming it was the cool thing to do. Didn't we all do this? Have our backpack straps loosened all the way down that they wobbled to and fro. We could tie them in a knot we could tie them in a bow. Ha.... That's kind of lame. And how can that be healthy for your back?! It's not. And if I was a principal I would ban it for eternity. Yup, even in heaven.
4. Idiot move right there. Sweats are Gods gift to men, but mostly me. And it's that simple.

So peace and see y'all tomorrow.

Ps. Here's a Mickey Mouse waffle I tried to make. It turned into a pancake. I call it a paffle. Amen