New Yearz

I've always hated New Years. Everyone seems to get so motivated about goals and accomplishments,

except for me.

I don't like making new goals every year, cause I didn't reach any of this years goals anyways. It just seems like a painful reminder each year saying "Oh look Nicole you failed again, good try though". And don't even mention New Years kisses. Who came up with that anyways? It just feels like any other night, and tomorrow will feel like an absolutely normal day. Sure, I'll still be writing 2014 on my papers for the next 5 months, but other than the number not much will change.

Last year started off with a brand new group of friends. I remember the exact day I met most of them; January 30th. They were my joy. But, all good things must come to an end, and they all choose to ignore me now. Sad story aside, it's strange to see how much changes in a year. All the people you meet, all the friends you can lose. All the experiences, now just stored as memories.

That's all we can keep.

In 2015 all I wish for, is memories worth remembering.

Snow

I love snow. I love watching snow fall gracefully. I love ditching math class to dance in the snow. I love having snow fights with your best friends. There's nothing to dislike about snow. I love when the snowflakes are massive and curl down from the sky in spirals. It's like they're all in a dance, moving through the air like ballerinas.

It matches my mood perfectly. When I'm happy and positive, it's bright outside and the snow seems to be smiling back to me. Then when I'm glowering down in my cave-like bedroom, the snow clouds the sky and makes for a dark grey night.

I prefer the second.

I even love it when the wind is sharp and biting and throws the snow at you, stinging every inch of your face. Or when the snow doesn't melt for ages and makes your car wheels slide everywhere.

Snow is dangerous, and I think that's a main reason why people don't like it.

But honestly, everything is dangerous. So enjoy snow, even the dangerous parts.

hey listen

Friends are hard. Enemies are hard. Life is hard. But

Friends are good, Enemies are good. Life is good. Because

Friends, real friends, are there for you. They teach you the good in the world.
Enemies, the really horrible ones, teach you what you don't want to be like.
Life is good because you're living. You have one shot, and I'm not saying to do stupid "YOLO" induced activities, but don't hate living. The world is beautiful. Not the social media this-is-what-you-should-believe world, but the actual earth. Nature is great, so enjoy it. Better yet, enjoy it with friends who like you for you. Who help you on the path to be less like the people you detest. And help your friends on their path too. Listen to good music. Eat good food. Wear good clothes. And life will be good. Don't get caught up in everyone, stand up and act for yourself. Know what you want, and get there. Life is for you. Parents? They've got their life. And they know where they messed up, and so they're looking out for you. So, note to self: stop being an angry teenager and show them more love. Watch more 80's movies because nothing quite get's your heart going like a young Heath Ledger or Jon Cusak. Kiss the boy you like, who cares if you're not in love.
People have forgotten that we're just in highschool. And highschool is a time to live, live enough to know who you are and what you want to be.

There's my advice. I know I only have 1 fan, so I hope you're listening.

old memories

Every 12 year old in the 6th grade made fun of us. But that's what we get for not believing the other person has cooties. I remember sitting in your living room, the one your mom makes me sing in now, playing legos with you. The other kids were out by your shed, the one I can't even look at anymore. We played with the legos I got you for your birthday, and didn't care what anyone said. You never warned me about the hidden step leading into your kitchen, just so you could laugh when I tripped. And I never made an effort to remember, because I'd rather hear you laugh. You made me watch Lord of the Rings and now I blame you for my love for Legolas. When you walked me home you taught me that if I'm ever with people who are making out, immediately wrap their faces together with plastic wrap so they can't breath. And then we would joke about all the people you have made out with. At school with you I learned how to laugh even in scary situations, and you were there for me in some of the worst. I tried forgetting 9th grade yearbook day until I remembered who was the first one to comfort me. Your hug helped in ways you'll never know. When we absolutely couldn't find anyone else to dance with, which happened quite often, dancing with you was an adventure. I wish I could go back to everyday I told you to cut your hair and confess that I really loved it. Exactly two years ago from today you visited me when I got my wisdom teeth out just so you could laugh at my chipmunk cheeks and bring me ice cream. I held everyone's jealousy in Chamber, because I got to stand directly by you. You taught me that bus rides can be fun when you're with a friend, who loved flow as much as I did. I can't get myself to clap more than 6 times for anything, because you taught me that that was the limit. The dumbest things bring you back to me, like a pool table or ice skating, two of our favorite activities. Even spaghetti, which you made me eat without a fork as a kid. I love remembering the laughs we've shared.

And I'll never forget that last time we talked. Or the feeling when I heard the news. Or that stormy sunday night when my whole view on the world shifted. Or when the heartbreaking sentence "this means it's real"escaped my lips. The "you can talk to me" comments pouring in like the ocean, when the only person I wanted to talk to was you. I wanted to know if you're okay, I still do. I don't want to cry looking at a selfie of us in my car. But I do. Because this shouldn't have happened. You shouldn't be gone.

Day1 and no idea

Why would I start a blog. It seems like a blog is either the ideal mormon mom past time or creative hipsters outlet for emotions. I am neither, I'm actually a extremely ordinary 16 year old. My mom said I should start a blog, but she probably thinks I'm just here to write about Jesus. Sorry mom, not today.
I've read some cute mommy blogs, cute teenager-boy-drama blogs, and the creative writers perfectly-worded blogs. So I don't know what this is going to be like, but I'm sure every post will be different. Who am I even talking to in these posts? It's not like I'm going to tell anyone about this. But today's been a thoughtful day and I feel the need to put it somewhere so therefore the blog is born.