whose dumb idea was it at apple to have the album cover show as your wallpaper whenever you’re listening to a song
gee, thanks apple, I always wanted to know what it was like to be judged because of the music I listen to you
that’s cool, it wasn’t private
like damn, can’t a guy listen to some Taylor Swift without fear of judgment

Someday I’ll be living in a great big city, 
And I hope that I won’t be so mean.
Someday I’ll be strong enough so I can’t hurt me,
And I promise I won’t be so mean.

I’m trying not to be so mean.

Mean

So, in my post about Glee earlier, I mentioned that I got a little teary-eyed when Puck and Beiste sang Mean in tonight’s episode. And I wouldn’t normally post something this personal on tumblr, but I’m actually mainly doing this because my sister (my actual, biological, blood relative) reads my tumblr for God knows what reason. And I wanted to tell her this, but I didn’t want to text it to her because them she’d have to awkwardly figure out what she’s supposed to say in response. And there really isn’t anything that needs to be said; which should explain why I don’t have this conversation with her in person. Or with anyone in person, to be honest. If you read this, which I don’t know why you would, you can bring it up if you absolutely have to. Or if you want to say something about it; just don’t think I’m looking for anything from posting this. I require no validation, no consolation, no hug or pat on the back. I’m really only writing / posting this so my sister understands a little bit of why I am the way I am. Well, so anyone who wants to can understand the way I am. But really it’s mainly just for my sister.
Now that that awkward introduction is out of the way, let’s get to the story behind everything.

As most people know, I’m very open and incredibly honest about my past and all the little details about my personal life. In fact, I’m still almost an open book when it comes to my life. There’s just not a lot of interesting things that happen, so there isn’t much to tell. The only things I keep to myself are the things that no one needs to know. So I hold them in.
One of the things I’m most open about is the fact that I was depressed for almost two years after I started high school. I could go on and on about that, but I could just summarize it and save a lot of people a story they’ve already heard.
If you haven’t, ask me. I’ll tell you.
My junior year, I wasn’t depressed. I found out that the girl I liked for two years liked me, and that was all peachy. I struggled with a lot of anger issues because I couldn’t figure out why nothing was falling into place the way I wanted it to. And honestly, I was a gigantic pain to deal with, let alone live with. (I would’ve used the B-word, but I’m trying not to cuss in this post)
But eventually, things worked out and I was happier than I had ever been. I hid my relationship from my parents, which was stupid because now they know all about it and they really wouldn’t have cared because they would’ve just been happy for me. Stupid me, I should’ve known: my parents want me to be happy.
But that’s not what this is about; sorry, I got sidetracked.
Long story short, I screwed up the summer before my senior year.
And thus began the hardest year of my life.
Raise your hand if you just got confused.
Let me explain.
Yes, my freshman year was hell (literally, not cussing). My grades dropped. I had four friends. I didn’t fit in. I had an obnoxious dick of a foreign exchange student for a roommate. I felt like I was letting my parents down. I felt like I was letting myself down. I sank low enough to a point where I no longer wanted to be here (take that to the farthest extent, if you haven’t already heard this story).
But eventually, I got out of it. And honestly, it was easier than my senior year.
Because going into my freshman year, I knew I’d have no friends; going into my senior year, I had more friends than I could count. There were few people I didn’t consider a friend of mine. My freshman year, all of my problems were the ones I had with myself; I was the one insulting myself, hating on me, hating on how I was, hating on who I was.
My senior year was different. Because it was harder.
I lost almost all of my friends at one point or another that year. But during that year, I can only think of one person who was never mad at me during that school year. And I haven’t spoken to him in over four months. 
Interjection: I’m only referring to the people I went to school with.
Interjection 2: There were some people who never got mad at me, but they weren’t really there when I needed someone, because they were busy or didn’t want to be. I hold nothing against anyone; what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? It’s true.
Anyways. So, I lost the girl. Tried to get her back, but kept screwing it up. So I hated myself for not being able to do anything right and for even letting her go in the first place.
And I hated myself for the decisions I made. I lost a lot of friends because they got tired of me ignoring their advice. But then I followed their advice (or at least I listened to it), and things didn’t work out. Except they weren’t there when I needed them afterwards.
So, there were some days when I was alone. Not just literally, but emotionally. There was a week where I slept less than a two hours cumulatively. I kept having these thoughts that there was a demon at the foot of my bed telling me to leave everyone alone.
Wow, just realized that I’ve never told anyone that. Well then.
But by the end of the first semester, I had no idea why I even liked who I was. Then I realized I didn’t. I listened and thought about every word that anyone had ever told me that year; whether it was said in anger or not, I remembered everything. And I repeated them to myself, reminding me of all my faults.
You have no control over your emotions.
You’re so arrogant.
There’s confidence, and then there’s arrogance, and then there’s you.
You never think before you do anything.
You’re so rude.
Why are you such a douche?
You’re always worried about yourself.
You think you’re hot ish (censored), but you’re not.
It all ran through my head. And I convinced myself that it was all true. And I hated myself.
To this day, there are things about myself I despise. Because I really just beat it so hard into myself that I believe it to my very core.
Basically, fast forward to the day before Winter break started. I had “gotten over” what happened in high school. But it still stung, because it legitimately screwed me up more than anyone realized. I had started college, but I didn’t have many friends. I was doing well in my major, but I would have rather cut my eyelids off than do it for the rest of my life. I had lost my best friend, but then finally reconciled with her. I had gotten myself into a new relationship (my first since the one junior year), but that one had ended, too. I had made a new friend (who I now refer to as my twin sister), but I had lost more friends than I thought I would after graduation.
Basically, I just started to think that I’d be stuck on this small-up big-down cycle forever. And honestly, maybe I will be. But I still remember driving home after my Computer Science final (which I finished first, in record time, and still got a 97%) and twirling the radio dial at a stoplight. Radio commercials are the devil to me.
And then I recognized Taylor Swift’s voice, which I love. I proudly own her first two CDs. But I hadn’t listened to Speak Now, because I had never gotten around to it.
And it was some whacked out country station, to be honest. I don’t think I would have ever found it if God hadn’t put it on the radio for me to stumble upon.
So I started to listen to it, and I fell in love with it.
Because honestly, I felt like I was destined to hear that song that day.
One day, I will be big. Whether I’m some hot-shot doctor that’s well known in the hospital I work at, or some famous talk show host like Ellen (my dream job), or writing and starring in a TV sitcom like Josh Radnor (my dream life), or even if I’m just well known in my family.
Because I will make everyone proud of me. I’ll prove everyone who has doubted me wrong; this song brings a smile to my face and emotional tears to my eyes.
I may not actually get watery, or cry, because I do my best to not ever. But honestly, this song is the song that finally convinced me that everything will be okay some day.
I pulled over on my way home, looked up the song on my phone, and sat on the roof of my car listening to it blasting through my speakers.
I have been bullied. I don’t consider what happened to me in high school bullying; that was just emotional rape, to be honest. I couldn’t handle anything that anyone threw my way that year, and I ended up doing some things that I should’ve have, messing up a lot of things I wish I still had, and just straight up ruining certain aspects of my life.
But I wasn’t bullied, technically. But I had low self-esteem going into high school.
I was picked on in elementary school because I was smart, and because my mom was a teacher at the same school.
In middle school, I had a girl tell me she liked me for the first time. But she later denied ever having feelings for me. To this day, I don’t think she’s ever admitted it. Well, that’s too bad, because I think I’m sweeter than a freaking teddy bear sometimes. Just letting that out there.
But I have a lot of baggage; even now, I’m still attaining more baggage.
Lost a friend, got them back, and might as well have lost them again because they never talk to me.
People come and go from my life as they please, and I never stop them. But I do my best not to let my baggage get to heavy. Because I’ve been to some of the darkest, lowest places in life, and I refuse to go there again.
And I refuse to let anyone get there.
I’m so against bullying it’s ridiculous.
Since college started, I have:
Shoved someone into a wall for tripping someone who walked with a limp
Cussed out someone for running into a young lady and then blaming her, when it was clearly his fault
Responded to someone tell a girl, “You look like a dumbass when you run.” with “You look like a bitch when you breathe.”*
*Doesn’t count as cussing; it’s a quote.
I refuse to let anyone intentionally lower someone’s self esteem if there’s anything I can do about it.
Because everyone is important, everyone matters, and everyone is beautiful to someone.
If my friends hate on themselves, I’ll refute it immediately because everyone I love is amazingly good looking. I’m just blessed like that.
But yeah, now I’m just rambling.
I doubt anyone has read this whole thing. But I really just wanted to let everyone know why the song “Mean” means this much to me.
Because some day, everything will be okay.
Maybe I won’t ever get married. Maybe I won’t ever be famous. Maybe I won’t graduate from medical school.

But I know for a fact that I will never be mean.
Which is why I’m writing this to my sister: because I’m mean to her.
And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m trying really hard. But I have a lot of baggage. And you’re really the only person who can help me carry it. I’m sorry I take it out on you, but I’m doing my best not to. You really are a great sister. Sorry I’m such a dick all the time; give it some time. Once I grow into myself, you and I will get along all the time.
One day, everything will be okay. One day, you and I will be the best of friends. It might be when I’m 30 or something, but it’ll happen one day.
Some day.

“Someday I’ll be living in a big old city, / And I promise I won’t be so mean. / Someday I’ll be old enough so I won’t hurt you, / And I promise I won’t be so mean… / I’m trying not to be so mean.”