Nobody puts baillee in the corner

The past 48 hours of my life have been some of the most reflective. I realize, even moreso than I admitted the other day, that I’ve been completely jaded about relationships. You see, I’ve spent my life adamently against second chances. I never understood why my friends gave their significant others second, third, or even fourth chances. I gave up the second that those who didn’t share my grandiose delusions of romance didn’t immediately come running after me to proclaim their feeling from the nearest rooftop or by holding a boombox outside of my bedroom window. I threw them to the wayside without a second thought, only to become a boyfriend box in Lorelai Gilmore’s closet. 

I remember watching the scene in The Breakfast Club where our loveable group of teenage deliquents (I use the term loosely) start literally (used in the correct context) weeping for the future because they talk about becoming their parents, and Ally Sheedy utters the famous line that breaks my heart every single time I watch it aka “When you grow up, your heart dies.” I related to it on a deep level, so I vowed to never become my parents, and I started by promising myself I would never give anyone a second chance, but what I’ve come to understand is we can become the good parts of our parents, not the bad. The only catch is it took me fucking up at an astronomical level to have my epiphany. 

In an attempt to not become my parents, I became all of the worst parts I feared in the first place. I spent days enraged (which is my favorite Linkin Park song) without realizing a lot of what happened was totally my fault. I let the past set the prescendent and became a co-pilot to my own bitterness (my favorite MCR lyric). I refused to believe people can change, but the irony is in doing so, I changed. I did some things I’ve never done in my entire life, and honestly, it was pretty gnarly (and not in the hip sense of the word). 

In layman’s terms, I goofed, and I goofed HARD. For someone who talks about karma almost as much as I talk about Gilmore Girls, I foolishly didn’t expect any consequences for my actions and then spent hours complaining about how unfair and cruel life is. (By the way, imagine Fiona Apple’s “Criminal” softly playing in the back ground of this entire blog post.) 

That brings us to now. I originally had an entirely different paragraph written, but in light of some recent relations, I’m rewriting my own ending. I don’t think things happening the way they did was a fluke, but I also don’t think I should have partaken in the douchebaggery I did. I initially thought my lesson was going to involve giving someone a second chance, but this is actually about knowing I can give someone a second chance. I’m not enbittered, and I’m so so so so (x infinity) sorry if I did in fact hurt anyone’s feelings, but this is really about one person: myself. (not in a Kanye way.) 

This is about me realizing I’m not the girl who plays it aloof, a heartbreaker, or a player. If the situation was right, I wouldn’t feel the need to be any of those things. I would just be able to me, and things would naturally fall into place. I don’t want to be a part of anything that makes me change a part of my personality until I’m Cady Heron telling Aaron Samuels to “shut up.” If things were right, I wouldn’t feel so wrong. Until that moment, I’ll be patiently waiting here. 

Stay tuned, dear readers. I know I am.