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.

But.

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.

Patience.

And hard work.

That's all we need as a shirt with good seams.
Because good seams are worth it.

-The girl falling apart.

Ps.

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.

XOXOXO

Dear, you.

Dear insert name here.

Please open up your ear.

And listen to me.

And consider my plea.

Don't do it again.

Don't hurt anymore women.

They don't deserve the pain,

Of having you explain

their imperfections and flaws

while you give them the much needed applause.

You toil with their emotions,

while you go through the motions

of a deserved love

and yet when they are down, you just shove and shove and shove.

Dear insert name here

while with you my self esteem seemed to slowly disappear.

You are a fine actor,

and please consider this small factor

before you go breaking another heart

you don't know what you start.

You said you are sorry

but it was bull, like a safari

going through a petting zoo

I didn't know what to do.

When you told me you loved me

but told me I wasn't good enough for thee.

Change this, change that

Sometimes too thin, sometimes too fat.

Dear insert name here,

Do you know what you did?

Or no, because you are just a kid?

You turned me blue,

and I could think of a lot of words to describe you.

I believe in forgiveness,

as long as you assess,

your actions

and put away those distractions,

those ones you blamed me for.

And open up a new door,

one of happiness and kind speech.

Where your life is a beach

And you can sit there in the sand,

and realize what you have done to me, Sam.

Dear insert name here,

Do you know what abuse means?

It's far more worse that it seems.

Not just sexual and physical,

those are far too typical.

Verbal abuse every heard of that?

How about emotional, or should we have a small chat?

They suck.

And each little word, they struck

a little chord inside my brain

telling me I'm not sane.

I needed you,

nothing new.

But you knew that, didn't you,

every little move was of mine was in your view

One little thing wrong

and I had to sing a sad song.

I was blamed

while you became inflamed.

And I was scared to take one step,

So I sat there and wept.

Dear insert name here.

I'm done with the fear.

I've found another,

And instead of you, I have become the conductor

of my life.

Please handle your own strife

Don't get me involved,

And learn how to resolve

with out hurting me.

And this is my last word to thee.

Insert name here,

I hope that you didn't mishear.

Road Rage.

Taking your rage out on the road.

AKA.

The desire of wanting to plow your car into another driver's car.

I have it.

You have it.

But.

I have it worse than you.

I just hate those block-headed people who decide they can go five under the speed limit. Sad thing is, is that most of those people are elderly. I LOVE OLD PEOPLE! But. Not when they drive. Then I just want them to just go back to the retirement home. And stay there. Forever.

Sounds a little harsh, but I can not express how much I HATE stupid drivers. I mean really. Turn on your freakin' blinker. Is it really that hard? If you would have done that I wouldn't be sitting here waiting to get on the road. Dummies.

There is one word that I never say.

Which is retard.

I find it offensive and harsh.

Because I'm at the Developmental Center a lot, I get to work with people and some of them actually do have retardation.

Why is that a bad thing? When you call some one a retard. Or say that something is retarded. You are putting down people who actually are retards. so STOP.

The only time I ever say that is driving...

Behind someone numskulled.

When my road rage gets really bad you can tell by my body language. (Which does not include words that fall out of my mouth one by one..)

My face gets abnormally close the the steering wheel.

My nose scrunches up.

My eyebrows go down.

My muscles shoot out of my perfect skin.

And death rays come out of my eyes.

I wish.

So, I call the attention of the inferior drivers. Please stop. Or else next time you see a little blue/purple bug behind you, be prepared for honking, angry faces, and laser beams. It will happen. Promise.

The one telling you to speed up-

Samuria.

Peachy.

I'm doing peachy.

If you were wondering.

Not great.

Not bad.

Peachy.

"Peachy" Can be used as a replacement for the word fine.

"How are you today?" "I'm pretty peachy."

"Peachy" Can also be used sarcastically.

"You have a zit." "No, really? That's just peachy."

I commonly use the second phrase.

Speaking of zits.

I've always had pretty good skin.

Not gonna lie.

Yes, I am going to admit, I never really washed my face other than in the shower.

A couple of months ago I decided that I might want to wash my face. When I started washing my face, the acne started coming! What they heck! I thought washing your face was to prevent zits! What a joke. I only have like four. But still, that's a lot if you are used to none.

I'm going to go on a little tangent here.

AWKWARD.

I hate that word.

I hate the concept.

I hate the people.

I hate everything that has to do with it.

Yes. I, Samantha Jean, am awkward.

But not like annoying awkward.

I can say some pretty awkward things. And I'll be okay with it.

But when people are being the "dumb" awkward. Then that makes me mad.

If you tell me something, that is kind of important, and yet fail to text/call/contact me afterwards. That's awkward. Especially if we have a class together on Tuesday.

STOP THE MADNESS!

Man up and stop being awkward.

Or I'll be mad. And then you won't even get the chance to be awkward with me.

Contact me! Please.

I'm so confused.

You know why I'm so confused?

Because I'm a teenager.

I'm not proud to be a teenager, because simply put, most teenagers are idiots.

I'm 16 going on 17, I see about 2,000 different teenagers a day. And all I see is a bunch of................ teenagers.

Teenagers don't really get a ton of respect. Because of the idiot teenagers.

Don't get me wrong. Everybody can be an idiot. But there are those teenagers that are just constant, on-going idiots.

Teenagers have everything, but appreciate almost nothing.

Its something you either have been, are, or will be.

So that is why I'm confused.

Because I'm a teenager.

When I'm older, I like to think that life is going to be easier. But I know for a fact that it won't be.

Peachy.

Darn you teenagers!-

Master of the Pan Flute.

bones. and black something.

Well, about a month ago, I found myself sliding down the stairs, face first. At the end of the wonderful and painful slide, I laid on the ground for a while, until my ankle started to scream at me. And when I say scream, I don't mean a scream from a normal person, but get ten of me and then ask me: Why I ************. Then take out my insides and let them talk for me. And that scream will be the most powerful scream that will ever touch the delicate hairs inside your ears. That is how it felt, and while lying there, a small tear slowly rolled its way down until it touched the carpet. Now let me tell you a story about this carpet, it is an extremely important carpet, and as soon as the salty tear hit the ground, I lost it. I cried and cried, but my mom was in the car honking the horn (because I was late, as usual.) And it was terrible. I walked on it. And it hurt SO bad! My parents decided to believe me after that little incident. My doctor thought I broke off a piece of cartlidge in my ankle joint. So I used crutches for about three weeks. So I went to a different doctor, and he said it was actually bone that I broke off, and I went to get a MRI. So today the doctor called. Apparently it was an old injury and I did it a while ago. (I'm guessing it was one time while sliding wrong into the base during softball) And falling down the stairs was a "trigger point" which cause my body to actually notice that something was wrong, which caused massive amount of pain. And in order for my ankle to get better is to start walking on it! Which I am happy about because I get rid of the crutches! But if I walk on it then it can build it back up and make it stronger. And if that doesn't work then we have to look into surgery and or physical therapy. They also said that my ankle is always going to be bad and weak. And I have a huge chance of getting arthritis. Great. I don't really care though. I mean, things happen for a reason right? I sure hope so.

Video games. I hate them, so much. The only ones that I have actually found joy from were super old ones, like a Nintendo 64. Those ones are fun! Or any family game, like Wii fit, Mario Cart, Guitar Hero, Wii sports, Mario party, ones like that, ones that people who are any age can play them. What I hate is the "hard core" games that involve shooting, war, killing people, and so on. They are DUMB. And when boys get obsesed with them, oh man. I hate that. They should just go outside and have some real fun! Recently, all my guy friends have gotten OBSESSED over this game. Black Ops. I think that's what it is called. But lately that is all they talk about. "Dude! Get online as soon as you get home!" I think I have heard that key phrase about a billion times in the last week. And it is the most irritating thing, ever. Now I bet all of my guy friends are way sick of my friends and I talking about Justin Beiber or the Notebook, so I guess, this is their way of getting even, unidirectionally.

Living the lifeeee. (:

Today, was great.

Today, was stressful.

Today, was funny.

Today, was awkward.

Today, was sad.

Today, made me mad.

So mad.

Not only am I mad, I feel bad! Soo bad. Things have happened in the past week, that have made me change my mind on a couple of things and people, and it is stressing me out! And stress makes me sad. But it's part of life, and I'll live.

I guess living, can be hard.

Actually, I know that life is hard.

We've always been told that life is hard. We probably have been told this every single day.