Well; Here’s a Little Letter from Someone Who Is Moving On

Dear Beautiful Lady,
You are tired. You are exhausted. It feels like you are constantly struggling, fighting a battle you can’t seem to win. There’s the part of you that loves being free of a burden, loves the ability to breathe in fresh air and think, You can’t control me anymore. This is my time.

You walk to class and you appreciate the sunshine glowing around you, or you see the roses and stop because they smell so sweet. You enjoy the feeling of your muscles stretching, despite it being so early in the morning. You want to dance, you want to rejoice and thank God for giving you the freedom you have.

It feels good when you go eat a salad, and its not because you think you should be skinny. You eat a salad because you like how energized you feel the rest of the day. It also feels good, however, to pile that burger high with cheese, pickles, and onions, and to smother it in honey mustard sauce because why not? You’re not drowning your feelings or anything, you just want a beautiful hunk of meat, cheese, and sauce to fill you up and make your taste buds sing with joy.

(Personally, I thank God for cheeseburgers in my prayers.)

You go for a run with your best friend for your own self-improvement, not because of him. You like the work you feel in your muscles and the way a hot shower is so relieving afterwards. You read romance novels and you cry because they’re happy, but it’s okay. You’re gonna be happy one day too.

But then you see him, and your world crumbles.

Your heart hurts, and you have to take a moment to breathe deeply and remember everything that was wrong. You have to remember your reasons for saying no, for turning away.

You go back to your room and you feel tears threatening. You imagine up a life where he treats you well and where your feelings make perfect sense. You pretend his love isn’t selfish, and that he wants to take care of you as much as you want him to. You close your eyes and he’s there, and it’s all perfect.

But then you open your eyes and reality kicks you in the gut. You sigh and go back about your day a little sadder than before. The sunshine is still warm, but not glowing. The roses are still pretty, but the thorns are too much. Love songs make you want to throw up and a little bit of bitterness seeps into your heart as you are back at square-freaking-one.

You wonder when this horrible cycle ends. You wonder when you’ll be free. You fall on your knees before God and you beg for this to end. You ask Him to relieve you of the pain you feel, to help you not feel so pathetically confused and disoriented over someone that is no longer a part of your life.

And then, one day, it happens.

You have to acknowledge that yes, you miss him, and yes, that it is perfectly fine. It’s normal, even. You take a deep breath and you understand that it’s time to move on. You’re going to be sad sometimes, but it isn’t going to blindside you. It’s not going to make the sun stop shining or make the roses stop smelling sweet. Its going to make you appreciate all the good things you do have, and the Love of someone so much more than your or an idiotic boy who didn’t know what he had.

God is so much more than heart break.

Joshua 1:9 says, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Clasp onto the power of this verse because He is Life, he is Love, and He is the Mercy we will forever need. He is the Father who knows your pain and who can heal it. He is the One who shows you how you will be joyful instead of fleetingly happy. He is Healing. He is Hope.

He is Victory over the heart break.

So you stand up, brush off your knees, and go about your day because you are strong and courageous. You step into the sunlight and thank God it makes you glow with warmth. You touch the roses and the petals are soft and smell sweet. You take a deep breath and walk on because you know that even though right now sucks, the reality is that you are beautiful, strong, and on the mend.

God loves you, and that’s something to cherish.

I love you, because we’re sisters in heart break.

You should love you, because you are fan-freaking-tastic.


Someone Who is Moving On

Well; This is my NEW Beginning

My dearest readers and beautiful faces,

I apologize in advance for the amount of typos and repetitions. This was written late last night and most likely full of mistakes. I do not, however, want to change any of it because it’s authentic. It’s real, and I think that’s why I started this. To be real.


I’m having one of those movie moments where you sort of discover everything about yourself in one second and then forget tit the next. I’m a young woman trying to find herself in college and what do I have? Baggage. Baggage that’s heavy and suffocating and I am done letting control me.

So here I go. I’m telling you the rest of the ten months since that stupid, lonely version of myself asked that boy to kiss me. I’m done reliving it and drowning in guilt at what some people might not see as too terrible, but what I know was the worst thing I could have done. I didn’t have sex, or drink, or do drugs, or party, or kill anyone—any of those horrible things. No, I did something worse.

I idolized someone other than my God. My beautiful, wonderful God who sees my faults and loves me anyways. The one I should adore endlessly, my truest love in life that I walked away from. The God who hasn’t patched my heart, but healed it through His mercy and grace that I definitely do not deserve. I put someone in place of Him and that was the worst thing I could’ve picked to do at that moment.

After Bryan and I made out in his driveway, we became inseparable. We consistently wanted each other close to hold and to kiss. We both wanted to feel wanted. He needed validation after he and Adelaide broke up, and I needed the attentions of the boy I had yearned for, for so long. I wanted to drown in him.

And I did.

I fell impossibly harder. On New Year’s Eve, he was the one I was hiding in a corner and kissing at four o’clock in the morning. I relished in the way he kissed my neck and ran his hands over my body and how he said he never wanted to stop touching me. He always wanted to be close to me, to feel as good as we did. He told me.

And I ate it up like mama’s apple pie. I consumed it and let my desire for him consume me. I tasted the tobacco on his lips and he became my addiction. I craved him, I sighed when he touched me, and I watched him when we were with others, knowing he was watching me to.

Notice all the “I’s”? (that was horrible grammar, I’m pretty sure it’s all wrong!). I was so selfish, only thinking about what I wanted and how I could keep him happy so that he wouldn’t walk away from me. Apparently, however, I did not try hard enough, because he also went looking somewhere else for validation.

Remember Penelope? The broken girl who I was so close to in those months?

Well, one day we were hanging out at Timothy’s (the perfect one) house, and Bryan and I had a moment alone. I laughed and told him about a conversation I had with Penelope. By that time, somewhere in January, he figured out that Penelope knew, and sometimes it was mentioned. I told him how Penelope said “You guys are so lucky, I wish I had a friend I could just make out with!”

Bryan’s response?

“Well, I mean,” he shrugged with a laugh in his eyes. “I’m more than willing.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Yeah. Tell her that I—“

“No,” I stopped him. “If you want to kiss her, you ask her. I’m not doing it.”

So he did. He told me about it. Bryan asked me if I cared, and like an idiot I said no, and they kissed. Penelope made out in the back of his truck, the same place I did, with Bryan. It made me sick to my stomach to think of it, but I’d just had him for a month and I was most certainly not going to walk away from that. So I ignored it.

Until, at least, one day we are making out on my couch while my parents weren’t home (I’m not proud of the lies I told my parents; I’ve told them the truth and they’ve forgiven me like the merciful Christians they are).

So, Bryan and I are kissing. I’m sitting in his lap and I am in bliss, his lips on mine and his arms around my waist. His hands were in my hair. I couldn’t breathe because of the intensity of the kiss and he pulls back and starts talking about Penelope.

“I definitely prefer your body type over Pen’s…” he murmured in my ear. I pulled back slightly to look at him and he gave me a half smile I had been so in love with. “Well, except for when she kisses my nose. She does really cute stuff like that.”

He talked about her.

About Penelope.

While I was on top of him.

He left shortly after that because he had class to get to. For once, I didn’t have work, and I was completely alone in my house. I sat on the ground in front of my door and cried those ugly sobs that I’m so good at, and I held my knees and curled into myself, praying I could forget him talking about another girl while his hand crept up my torso. I prayed that I could feel his kisses without feeling nauseous and thinking of Penelope’s on his.

Yeah, I know, I’m super melodramatic. Moving on.

So I told him I was done about a week later. I explained that I had fallen extremely hard for him and that I could no longer carry on in a casual relationship while he was with someone else. I couldn’t have any romantic or physical interest in him. He respected that, Penelope saw my pain, and she told him they were done too. Penelope and I were closer, and Bryan was the one I still so wanted. The week before Valentine’s Day, I found myself completely alone and wanting him.

Well, the weekend after Valentine’s Day, I get text message from the oh-so-lovely Bryan. We talk, he apologizes (over text, as per usual), and he tells me that he had feelings for me too. Bryan wanted something real, and he wanted it with me. He didn’t want to lose me.

Naturally, I was all for the idea. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to be with someone else, though. We progressed forward as if we would be able to  be together; I sought advice from my closest friends, a blessing from Adelaide, a blessing from my mother, and the understanding of Jenny and Rose. The latter two were not at all on the side of “Yes, date Bryan” but they loved and supported me, no matter what. Bryan and I talked, we grew impossibly closer, I learned his dark secrets, and I told him the truth: that I loved him. I craved his heart and his body, and he had mine for whatever he wanted. He was in charge of where we stood emotionally, which was pretty distant at some times, but I did not care because I had more of him than I thought I would ever had again. I had talks late into the night and sweet good morning texts. I had kisses when my parents weren’t home and cuddles when they were.

On a weekend in March, Rose came home for spring break from college. My beautiful, intelligent, God—fearing, wonderful and level headed friend returned in the time that I now know God wanted her to. He sent her back home to me. He sent the two of us to Cookout for late night French fries and ice cream. (No, like legit, it was about ehhhh 10:30 when we showed up!) I ended up talking about everything with Rose. I shared all my doubts and my fears, but also my hopes. We talked about how Bryan made comments about me being a disgusting eater, me looking okay except I needed a little eyeliner, and him thinking about another girl when we’re making out.

It was more than that, though. I talked about the way I felt about him, how wonderful it was to have even the smallest piece of him and of the good things he did, the good ways he made me feel. We weighed the endless amount of pros and cons of the list and eventually came to the conclusion that I was making a mistake and I wasn’t glorifying God. I was glorifying Bryan and my feelings for him, lifting him up so that I idolized the relationship we could have.

Nobody should feel that way about another human being. Passionate love can exist, yes, but not in the way I felt it. It needed to stop.

So I told him no. I told him that I had some stuff to fix with God and that I needed to figure myself out.

Do you know what he said a day and a half later?

“I love you. Do you get how hard that is for me?”

I replied with, “And I love you too, but this isn’t our time. You weren’t ready, I’m not ready…it isn’t time.”

A couple months later, we got into May and I told him to move on. I said he could find somebody else, and he did…two weeks later. Two weeks later, he was dating a friend of mine, also named Jenny but nowhere near as wonderful as my darling Jenny from high school. They entered into a relationship with the agreement that they would have fun before college and break it off later. It was twisted, but they seemed happy enough. All the people in my life were finding significant others and there I was, bitterly alone and pining for a guy that I knew I shouldn’t have and that I couldn’t have.

By the time that summer was over and I was headed to the same wonderful college as Rose and Bryan, I had a moment of realization: I was still idolizing him. I still wanted him in a desperate way, and being even close to him was simultaneously exhilarating and painful. So, I told him that I couldn’t be around him, that we couldn’t keep being best friends, because it drove my heart and my mind insane. He told me that my relationship with God was the top priority, and that he understood. We both cried and held each other for what we thought would be the last time. For at least an hour, he whispered sweet nothings to me.

I think they’re called sweet nothings for a reason; they don’t mean crap.

I don’t want to talk about the pain I felt that night, or the next couple of days, because how I felt about him isn’t what matters anymore. I’ve been trying to keep this as emotionless as I can, because I’m trying to put aside those feelings and move forward.

Anyways. It’s not October, and I think I’m finally ready to keep going. About two weeks ago, Bryan and I had a real long talk. He’s single and has been for about two months. We were both still wanting each other. We wanted the passionate feelings and the happy fuzzies. We wanted to be in a relationship with our best friend, the person who knew everything about us and loved us anyway. We craved that in each other, and a part of me still wanted it. Despite having a summer of spiritual growth and a beginning of the school year figuring who I was, a part of me still desperately wanted him.

So we spent a long time talking. For three hours, we sat on a bench and talked about our frustrations. I told him how I felt like he didn’t care anymore and that I was the only one still struggling with this. Like he’d moved on and been fine. I initiated any kind of contact between us (except for that night; he’s actually the one who wanted to talk). I was the one who was still missing him, who was still hurting from the roller coaster ride of a year we’d been on with each other. He told me that he really did love me, but that he’d been pulling away because it was easier. So while I dealt with being the one lying on the ground in pieces, he was trying to move on.

I felt pretty pathetic, not gonna lie.

But then he said that he wanted me still. If we put two wills together, two wills fighting for the same thing, we could overcome it all. It was all about will.

I told him I didn’t have a will anymore. It was gone. He took my love and words and destroyed it. He destroyed my meaning and use of “love” to get what he wanted and to keep me where he wanted. He left me alone and found someone else to make him feel good while I struggled. I had spent the past ten months fighting to stay happy and positive and not let him control me, and I was done.

I told him that.

He told me that he was stepping back from his faith.

I told him that I would not defy my parents (who, after everything between Bryan and I, had taken away their permission for me to be with Bryan; my dad cannot stand the thought of us being together and has clearly stated that we he will never give me permission or blessing to be with him). I told him I wouldn’t defy my faith in God (I knew that I could not save him, only God can and I very much so hope Bryan can come out of his newly proclaimed Atheism). I told him I wouldn’t defy the new standards about myself because I deserved someone who treated me better and who wanted me in the good ways, not just the bad ones.


Yeah, I’m not a complete idiot. I know that it wasn’t all Bryan’s fault. We were both in the wrong, I knew that, and I had a large part of the blame for us starting out. I knew what I was doing when I started our fling, but I didn’t care because I wanted him in the way that he had me. But, I also now see how he used my feelings to get what he wanted, when he wanted it. Neither of us are good for each other.

So here I am. Bryan was my epic, passionate love that I wanted from the movies. He was my one true earth love, my heart and soul, and it is okay that we aren’t together. It’s actually good. Though I’m now left with a patched up heart and a list of songs I can’t listen to, I know that its going to be okay. I have loving, powerful God who is my fortress when I am weak, who I praise for loving me, even when I feel like this. I know He will heal me in time, and I just need to learn to rely fully on Him.

God is my epic love. Not Bryan. God is my truest love, my most sincere passion, and the reason I walk and breathe across the earth. God is my strength and reliance, and I fall before Him with the love I feel and the repentance I should have felt long ago. Like the magnificent God He is, he’s forgiven me. I’m thankful that Christ died for me to do this, for me to be able to simply fall before Him and acknowledge my wrongdoings.

I’m thankful that I can now see how my love for God should be all-consuming and worshipful. I know He is the only thing I need, and I’m at peace with that. There is nobody on earth who should or can take His place. I was meant to love Him, and I will. I yearn for His love and grace, and I have received it, and I won’t ever stop, because He is good and faithful.

I don’t need to keep revisiting the past. I don’t need to continue reliving the worst things I’ve done and the mistakes I made, because I am new and clean in His eyes, and that’s all that matters. I don’t have to look back because He’s washed me clean.

Where else to go from here, except forward?

Well; This Was Only the Beginning

My beautiful darlings,

December 20th of my senior year, a little over a month after Adelaide and Bryan broke up. Rose was back from college for winter break, but that night, she was out of town with her mom on a shopping trip. Jenny was back with her family in Asheville, and I was with my closest hometown friends at the moment, celebrating Bryan’s birthday.

It didn’t start out as super special. Our little friend group hung out at Bryan’s house, eating cake and just chatting. We progressed to goldfish and poker a little while later (which I turned out to be not 100% horrible at), and we all had a good time, just being together and hanging out like we always did. Sometime into the night, however, Jonathan, Freddie, and Timothy had to leave because of prior plans. This left John, Penelope, Bryan and I to spend the rest of the night however we wanted. Bryan wanted to celebrate being 18 by buying his first legal cigarette (these things called Black and Mild?) and smoke them, but not at his house.

His parents definitely did not approve, so he did not want them to know.

So, we went to John’s house. He lived in an apartment complex with his mom, who was sleeping like a rock. This allowed us a little freedom, but we still had to sit outside the door, chatting while the boys smoked. (I totally couldn’t smoke a cigarette; I could barely vape without coughing pathetically and figured the embarrassment was not worth it.)

Sitting there, the four of us somehow got onto the subject of making out. I don’t actually remember how it came up, but Bryan got a certain look in his eyes and said, “Let me be real…are you guys into like, kinky stuff?”

I remember Penelope instantly saying, “Oh, I love kinky stuff.”

We all gaped. Penelope’s hands shot over her mouth in shock, eyes wide and face turning furiously red. Bryan laughed and John just stared, with me blurting out “Are you serious?!”

What had my childhood friend experimented in? I knew she’d dated an older guy, but it didn’t cross my mind that things had gotten that real. For the moment, I couldn’t say anything as she buried her face in her hands in embarrassment.

“You guys seriously cannot tell anyone I said that,” Penelope begged, her beautiful brown eyes pleading. “I would die, please don’t say anything.”

“Nothing said here leaves the four of us,” Bryan decided.

“It doesn’t leave this night,” John corrected. “We don’t talk about it outside of this apartment complex, got it?”

And the talking progressed. Questions went around, secrets were shared, beginning with things like “So how far have you gone?”, “How long can you last?”, “What’s your favorite thing about a girl or guy?”, or “What really makes you crazy?”. The whole thing was way out of hand, to be completely honest. I remember sharing things that even Rose hadn’t know about the way it felt when Paul would kiss me and touch me, or the things I loved hearing him say and how I reacted to every touch.

The most embarrassing statement.

In response the…sounds…we would make when touched a certain way, I said “I’m actually kind of quiet. The better, the quieter.”

Why, Lily May, why, why, why why whywhwywhywhywhy—WHY.

I don’t know. Looking back, I feel like a completely idiot. We went as far as whispered discussions of how big certain parts of Bryan and John were. How wrong is that? Four teenagers who proclaimed to be Christians, sitting outside the apartment and talking about things that we should absolutely never know about each other? It was way across a line we should have never crossed and I still get sick to my stomach when I think about that night and all the crap we talked about. It was a mistake, but I didn’t see that. I saw the hungry look in Bryan’s eyes as he said he couldn’t choose between boobs or butt because he loved them both.

I am blessed in both areas.

In the car ride back to Bryan’s house, where mine and Penelope’s cars still were, Bryan played music. The song “Bad” by The Cab came on and we sang it loud and proud. At the end of the song, I looked to Penelope in the back seat and asked “Do you ever wish you could just be a bad girl?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I kind of already went there, you know? I don’t have the urge to jump back into it. Why, do you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’ve always been the good girl, besides Rose. I mean, compared to you guys, I’ve barely scratched the surface. I have no experience and I’m kind of tired of being teased about not knowing anything. I don’t drink or smoke, or even disobey my parents. I just wanna know what it’s like to be bad.”

“Your options are limited,” Bryan shrugged casually. This was the guy who used to party and get high in freshmen/sophomore year. He never had sex, but he had definitely been in the party scene until junior year.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you refuse to smoke and drink because your parents would find out,” he explained. “So you’re kind of left with…having sex.”

My stomach dropped. Physical affection was my weakness.

“No,” I responded.

“I’m not saying you have to have sex,” Bryan rushed to say. “But being sexual is about your only option left.”

Ladies, run from guys like this. There is nothing good about being bad. Bad is bad, no way out of it. There is forgiveness, yes, but outright making the decision to be bad is not the way to go. It’s a giant mistake.

“So to be like the girls from these songs, I have to be sexual and demanding and not give a crap about what other people think?”


I was kind of quiet the rest of the ride, however short it was. We made it back to Bryan’s, the three of us continuing to talk once getting out of the truck. There was some comment about “Sometimes, I just really miss a good kiss.”

I was so frustrated with the both of them at the comment. I practically stomped by foot like a fussy child. “Are you joking? You both just ended relationships barely a month ago, ones in which I know there was making out. I haven’t kissed anybody in three freaking years.”

Full disclosure: I did not say “freaking.” My mouth was also not very clean—I’m still working on it.

“I am so sorry,” Penelope said, laughing at my face. “That has got to suck.”

“Nobody should go that long without a kiss,” Bryan shook his head.

I snorted. “You’re telling me.”

I remember that hungry look in his eyes again, boring into me and making my knees weak. Bryan licked his lips and shrugged. “I’m just saying, I’d kiss either of you right now.”

“Oh,” I said in surprise.

The conversation moved on. Around one o’clock, the time I was supposed to be home, we all dispersed. Penelope got into her car and drove away, while I sat in mine for a long moment. My blood was pumping and I remember just thinking that if I had any guts, if I wanted to be exciting, I needed to just freaking do it. Thus, I picked up my phone and shot Bryan a text.

Me: Would you actually kiss me?

Bryan: Absolutely.

Me: Would you come back outside?

The iMessage receipt showed that he read it. Within seconds, he was back outside and I was getting out of my car, scarf off and hair a little fluffed. We met in the middle of his completely dark driveway.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, bending over.


“I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” Bryan sounded almost amused.

Annoyed, I straightened back up and cocked an angry eyebrow. “Why do you think? I haven’t kissed anyone in three years. I’ve only ever kissed one guy, and I didn’t even know if I was good at it, and im just…dang it, this was a bad idea.”

“Lily, hush,” he whispered. I looked him in the eye then, finding a calming smile on his face. He laid a hand gently on my waist, the other on the side of my face, and drew me close. His lips pressed against my forehead. A small sigh of relief escaped me as she pressed another kiss to my nose, my cheek, and then the corner of my mouth.

Then he kissed my lips, and I absolutely melted. It was soft and slow at first, a very simple kiss. It was one that a guy gave you on your front porch before your dad flicked on the lights, or a kiss that was shared at the altar in front of people.

(Funny how I remember exact details about him kissing me that night. Isn’t it funny how we can close our eyes and recall every touch that was given by someone you fell in love with?)

Then, something happened. The kiss was deepened, my hands were on his face and his were in my hair and we were holding ourselves as close as we could get. What was supposed to be single kiss to make me feel better ended with my back pressed to his truck and me not feeling at all cold, despite it being past midnight in late December. It lasted for maybe twenty minutes, both us trying to pull away but always diving back in for another kiss. He was addictive, and with every taste I got, I wanted more.

How bizarre is that? How can you possibly feel that drawn to someone? He was a drug I didn’t want to stop using, and that was only in the first twenty minutes of having his lips on mine.

Eventually, we pulled apart and pried our hands off each other. Just like that, he went inside and I got in my car and pulled out my phone. Obviously I couldn’t tell Rose, who would be absolutely appalled at me. Jenny wasn’t in town and I couldn’t explain how my conversation with John, Penelope, and Bryan had led where it had without being embarrassed, which led me to Penelope. Obviously I could tell her.

Me: Pen, he kissed me.

Penelope: WHAT

Me: I asked him to kiss me, and he did. Im just now leaving.

No sooner had I sent that text than I pulled out of the driveway and Bryan himself sent me a text.

Bryan: You can’t tell anyone at all about that. Not Rose or Jenny, not even Penelope.

The feeling of my gut dropping is still ingrained in my mind. I told him I wouldn’t say anything, but the damage was done. Penelope knew, and nobody else could. Naturally, it only took those few seconds for her to become my immediate confidant and suddenly, my closest friend.

That night, I looked my father in the eye and lied about why I was late. My first kiss with Bryan, my first lie for Bryan, and Penelope, my only relationship formed because of Bryan. I look back now and the only thing I can say to myself is “You stupid, stupid, immature and lonely girl.”

Until next time my beauties,

Lily May xoxo

Well; This is How it Started

Hello beautiful people!…or person, or nobody….

Maybe I should just start of saying “Hello world?” I don’t know, I’m just going with it. I’m not a professional blog runner, so I feel like its okay.

I would like to preface with an apology for all the typos. I have noticed that I sometimes add extra letters that are not supposed to go there, such as saying “Rose went to school a country over” instead of “county over.” So if there is even one person reading this, I am very sorry. I try to edit, but it can be kind of hard to check your own work, especially when you’re an idiot like me and decide to write a post when you can’t sleep at four o’clock in the morning.

Moving on!


I remember the day that I met Bryan so clearly. It was the first day of third grade, and I was nervous as crap. I had just switched to my new elementary school a semester before, and none of the people from my second grade class were in my third grade class. Walking in and seeing nobody that I knew made me want to turn around and bolt from the room in tears.

When I went to sit down at the seat with my name on it, I was placed next to a pretty girl with black hair and glasses (one of the only other two people who wore glasses besides me), and across from two blonde boys. One of them was Bryan, who held out his hand and introduced himself.

“I’m Bryan,” he said kindly.

“I’m Lily,” I replied. I remember looking down because I was shy, but when I looked back up, his blue eyes were locked on mine. He brushed his shaggy blonde hair from his eyes and smiled again.

“I like your pink bow,” he informed me, then blushed deeply. The girl next to me giggled and the other boy didn’t pay attention, but Bryan was looking at me so sincerely that I remember feeling a sense of belonging. He wanted to be my friend and he complimented me, and from that moment, I was gone.

For the next three years, we were strange friends. It was fine in third grade, when we just kind of hung out during class. In fourth grade, however, we started a strange sort of banter that drove our teacher insane. She separated us in class, but we continued to argue from across the room, frequently getting in trouble. I have never understood how he has the amazing ability to make me more infuriated than I ever have been. Literally nobody in the world can push my buttons like he can.

It’s seriously a talent. Instead of pushing a big red button, he just sits on it and pushes all the little ones around it until I lose my mind.

In fifth grade, we were in different classes, but got to hang out in an accelerated program for gifted and talented students. Once a week, we were pulled from our classes to spend time developing our literary and mathematical skills to a more advanced level than the other students in our class. There, we got to argue, but it was about books and stories and the teacher in that classroom encouraged us. We were good friends, and I loved him—at that point, it wasn’t romantically. I just loved him as another human in general that I connected to.

On Valentine’s Day in fifth grade, I came back from lunch to find a red teddy bear sitting on my desk. It was about the size of my torso, dark red, and held a red heart with gold lettering that simply said “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Tucked into it was a fake red rose, which played a little bit of music. I literally stopped in my tracks and stared at it as everyone “oooed” at me for having a teddy bear on my desk.

In fifth grade.

Was there a note?

Of course not.

Most likely, everyone knew that it was Bryan. It wasn’t a secret that he liked me, but I refused to accept that. We were friends. That was it. Nobody else seemed to be able to let go of it for the rest of fifth grade. After the teddy bear, things were a little weird for us. People publically teased him about me, to the point of us both having our heads down in our gifted and talented program because if we even looked at each other, someone said something.

We attended the same Gifted and Talented middle school program. Because it was a selection of students from all over our towns with good grades and a talent in some form of the arts, we basically got a whole new group of people. The teasing about me and Bryan disappeared over summer, and we were able to just be best friends again. My closest friends still teased me of course, but other than, it was water under the bridge.

At some point, I realized that my mushy feelings for him weren’t the same as they were for my other friends, and came to the realization that I actually did like him. Of course, the second I told my friend Amanda, she definitely had to tell Bryan that I liked him, but I couldn’t date because Daddy said no boyfriends until I was thirteen. Somehow, a bunch of other people found out and the teasing started up again.

All of this happened between our first class of the day and lunch.

I was so mortified by all the teasing by the popular boys (yes, I know, it’s silly that it was even a thing in middle school, but these are a bunch of theatre kids; obviously, there is a hierarchy). I ended up telling Amanda that I changed my mind because my dad said no boyfriends, so I decided not to like anybody. In some weird way, it worked. The teasing stopped.

Then sometime in about April of sixth grade, Amanda told me that she knew I still liked Bryan. She told her that he probably hated me now and to just forget about it, but she was determined to get us together. One day, unknown by me, Amanda called Bryan and told him I like him. He didn’t believe it because of last time, so she told him to stay completely quiet and added me on the call. When I picked up, she asked me if I liked him.

“Would you date him if he asked?” she pressed eagerly.

I remember asking my mom if I could have a boyfriend, and she asked who it was. When I said Bryan, she said “Of course you can date him.”

(Our parents knew each other, his mom adored me, and my mom worked at our elementary school at the time, and so she knew him pretty well…the families were totally cool with it).

I then told Amanda that yes, I would date him because my parents said it was okay. That was when said, “Did you here that, Bryan?”

I was so mad, I yelled at her right then. She calmed me down and said “Okay, so I’m gonna hang up. Bryan, do not hang up. You can do this.”

She basically forced him to ask me out.

And he did when she hung up. His kind voice came over the phone and he asked me if I would be his girlfriend because he really liked me. Naturally, I said yes, and there it was. My first boyfriend.

Fast forward eight months, and I’m getting dumped. The reason? He was part of the popular crowd, and pretty close to being finalized in it for the rest of middle school. I, however, was on the absolute opposite part of the spectrum and was part of the misfit crowd. It didn’t seem like it mattered at the time, but next thing I know, I can’t even look at the boy I have to spend the rest of seventh grade sitting next to.

After that, we didn’t talk at all. We weren’t friends, and everything was horribly awkward. I was still excruciatingly in love with him (I know, I didn’t know what love was, but it felt like that at the time). Consistently, I was teased for the fact that Bryan didn’t like me but I was head over heels for him. He pined after me for three years from third grade to sixth, and I pined after him from seventh until eleventh. Even though I dated someone else and even had a serious relationship with Paul, I was always coming back to my feelings for him. I didn’t know him anymore, but I longed for the kind of connection we had, the way I felt my sense of belonging with him.

When he came to my church in eleventh grade, he was shocked to see me there. He hugged me, said it was great to see me, and then fell head over heels for one of my closest friends, Adelaide. She and I had only recently reconnected in tenth grade, but it crushed me that he looked right past me and wanted her so badly, he spent three months getting her to like him in any way he could. He loved her so much, and she didn’t feel that way about him. I watched them grow closer and date, all while he and I grew vloser as well. We reconnected in friendship, and by the time Adelaide dumped him in November of our senior year, we were best friends again. Rose and Jenny were still my top girls, but we were best friends, and I silently fell in love with him again.

I blatantly denied it if anyone asked, claiming I still wanted John. Part of me did like John and his funny personality that made me enjoy being around him, but there was just something about Bryan that I felt like I couldn’t control. I knew him better than anyone, and he knew me almost as well as Rose. At that time, he may have even known me better. He was always so non-judging about everything that he knew my most embarrassing wants and desires. I trusted him because he was good at keeping secrets, and I didn’t think he looked down on me for any of my faults.

The thing about Bryan; he is bipolar, he’s passionate and intense, and he’s very good at connecting with people. He’s that guy from the movies that everyone says you shouldn’t be with, but you don’t care because he makes you feel special. I’ve always been a heavy set girl, and insecurities flow naturally with me. Bryan made me feel so much better about myself physically. He assured me that I was beautiful, he really did think I was. After he and Adelaide broke up, he began complimenting me in small ways, telling me my hair looked nice a particular way or that he really liked the way I looked in a certain dress.

I ate that crap up.

And it got me into soooooo much trouble.

Until next time lovelies.

Lily May xoxo

Well; This is Where I Was

Rose and I have known each other our entire lives, basically.

She’s that friend that you’re so close with, you finish each other sentences. You walk into each other’s houses without invitation or announcement. You know each other’s favorite drinks, movies, songs, places, books, everything. You know the intimate workings of each other’s minds, and understand them more than any other human in the world. Nobody gets them like you do.

Yeah, that’s Rose for me. We’re best friends, and always have been. We met at church, and lived in the same apartment complex from ages four and five to about…eight and nine. (She’s half a year older than me, and a grade above me.) We’ve spent a really long time overcoming other friendships and boyfriends, and even each other to get where we are. We’re lucky to be childhood friends that didn’t fall apart, despite growing up in different schools and living up to forty minutes apart. We’ve always made it work, because we chose each other.

Our friend Jenny came into our life in my ninth grade year. She was a tenth grader like Rose, and went o my school, while Rose went to one a country over. We met in music class, and grew into those friends that you really liked, but only hung out with at school events. It wasn’t until the summer between my ninth and tenth grade year that we really began to hang out, and I counted her a best friend. In my tenth grade year, I started homeschooling, but that did not stop Jenny from being my friend. We hung out every weekend, which clashed with my time with Rose. Naturally, I had to combine the two hanging out times, and the magnificent trio that is Rose, Jenny, and I came into being.

The summer before they left for college was the summer before my senior year. We had an amazing summer, spending a lot of time with our group of friends that started with Rose dating Timothy. January fourth of her senior year, she and Timothy started going out. Rose is a sassy girl, highly independent, and has a clear understanding of what she wants. While she and Timothy dated, they were great together. She taught him to be a little more ambitious, and Timothy taught her that she deserved to be treated really well—which she was. Timothy is the kindest, sweetest, most honest, and most servant-hearted person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

While they dated, he introduced Rose, Jenny, and I to his best friend, John. John was a redneck, cursed a lot, drank freely, and continuously spat on the ground. (Side note: I developed a strange attraction to him that developed into a hardcore crush that I ended up forgetting about. At the time, he was the first guy in years that I liked being around because he made me laugh. I’m over that crush now, he’s dating another one of my friends, and I love him like a brother.) At first, we weren’t too fond of him, but he grew on us. John and Timothy started coming to church with us, and the five of us formed a strange bond of friendship. We hung out quite a lot, even after Timothy and Rose broke up.

That summer, Jenny’s family moved to Asheville. It ruined our idea of the ‘perfect summer before Rose and Jenny leave’ but we worked it out. Rose and I kept busy, visited Jenny, and hung out with the boys. It was a great summer, and our little group expanded even more. Added to it were two of my elementary school friends who also attended my church, Bryan (yes, he has the same name as my brother) and Adelaide. Adelaide and I have been good friends that stayed semi-close throughout school. She is small and spunky and I adore her very much. She and Rose are a lot alike, which may be why we all get along so well.

Bryan was an ex-boyfriend from middle school that I still had a soft spot for, but that I hadn’t spoken to since he’d ended our “relationship” in seventh grade. He came to our church around November of our junior year and began dating Adelaide in February, about a month after Rose and Timothy.

Everybody got the timeline? My junior year, Bryan shows up at my church in about November. The following January, Rose and Timothy start dating. The following February, Adelaide and Bryan started dating.

(Coincidentally, that’s the same date Jenny and her boyfriend started dating, but that’s a story for another time!)

So! It’s August of my senior year and my two best friends are leaving me for college. It was during that time that Bryan and I mended our broken bridge and actually became friends again; best friends, actually. We started hanging out, including Timothy and John, my church/homeschooling friend Penelope, and two of Bryan’s old friends, Jonathan and Freddie. Jonathan and Freddie were roommates and lived in a duplex, which became a place we spent a lot of time at.

This is where it started. These people that I loved, that accepted me for who I was and seemed to enjoy my company, became what I depended on in the first half of my senior year, namely around November, when Adelaide broke up with Bryan. It was something everyone but apparently Bryan had seen coming, and it was an ugly break up. For a few weeks, I felt like a child in the middle of a divorce. I was a mediator, I was confidant for both, and I was stressed.

Adelaide began pulling away from me and our other friends, basically letting Bryan have us all. (Well, besides Rose. Rose was at college and did her best to avoid the drama and remained rather close with Adelaide). Bryan, Penelope, Jonathan, Timothy, John, and sometimes Freddie, became constants in my life. I knew a lot of the time that we weren’t acting like Christian people. We didn’t talk about godly things, we watched crude movies and made crude jokes, and just…stopped caring. I distanced from my parents, stopped talking to Rose and Jenny as frequently, and developed a close relationship to Penelope.


Penelope came from a very good family. Before our senior year, however, she fell in love with someone her parents did not approve of. There was a significant age gap, a lot of family drama, the “someone” she fell for leaving our church, and a strained relationship with her parents and God. The two of us had grown up with an on/off sort of friendship that could easily be picked up whenever we chose. It happened to pick up that December, as we were the only two frequent girls in a group of very goofy, wildly inappropriate guys.

We started smoking (I never touched a cigarette, but we both got into Vaping) and even discussed the possibility of drinking. I admit that it was unhealthy relationship that formed off us both losing a close relationship and feeling lonely—she lost her man, my best friends went to college, and we latched onto each other.

And nothing about our friendship helped the following situation.


The final step before I begin to explain how stupid I am is to tell you where I was as far romance.

In ninth grade, I dated a skinny, awkward guy that was super sweet. We didn’t have much a romantic connection, however, and broke up after five weeks, when I realized I was head over heels for one of my friends from middle school, Paul.

Paul dated one of my other friends, Fiona, before she broke up with him in seventh grade. Paul and I had become very close in eighth grade, both having gotten dumped in seventh grade by people we totally thought were in love with us. I obviously know how that middle school relationships are silly, but at the time, it brought us very close.

The summer after eighth grade, I learned that Paul was extremely attracted to me. I was curvy for an eighth grade-now ninth grader, with big boobs that were still getting bigger and a large butt that I’d always had to deal with. Paul told me how attracted to me he was, and I was became quite uncomfortable with that. We distanced a little bit, especially when he felt me up in the theater of the play we were both working for (he got the part of Aladdin, and I was one of two stage hands). This was before rehearsals even actually started, so it gave me a bit of a cooling off period.

By the time we were talking again, stage rehearsals were going and we were flirting hard core. I fell hard and fast for his flattering words and teasing touches, and by late October, we were dating.

Things progressed very quickly, emotionally and physically. We went too far together, especially for a pair of ninth graders.

I want to make it clear that I am still a virgin. I am not writing about what happened between us, however, so simply understand that things pushed just far enough for me to decide that this relationship was a very bad idea. I ended it in fear of where we were going, and guilt began to eat away at me. He introduced me to some things that I couldn’t go back from before we broke up, and they stayed with me for a long time. My preacher’s son boyfriend encouraged me to watch porn.

For all of you Christian girls who are turning their nose up at me, I apologize if I’ve tinted our reputation. I admit that I, a female who claimed to be a Christian, became addicted to pornography at the age of fifteen and had a long, hard battle of getting out of it. Don’t worry, I hated what I did and carried that for two years. I despised myself, and wondered at how I had the brass to walk into a church and raise my hands and praise a God I defied behind closed doors. I thought of myself as so disgusting, I took multiple showers a day as if I could wash away my sins that way.

It took me two years to overcome that sin, and when I did, I realized that I could not wash my sins away. I was on my knees at a church conference, praying for forgiveness and redemption because I knew my biggest sin was sexual immorality and I wanted to stop. I wanted the guilt, the knowledge that I walked around with, to stop that night. I confessed to my entire bible study group (which was filled with my closest friends) and they laid their hands on me to pray that God gave me strength to end it. With God’s strength and the Holy Spirit in me, I did.

I stopped, and I swore I would never start again.

For junior year and the following summer, I was great. I still struggled with desire, but touch became a very sacred thing for me. It was how I expressed love, and how I felt love received. I didn’t like to be touched unless we were close friends or family I was comfortable with. And if you were a guy? Hands off. Don’t even think about touching me, especially on the waist or shoulders.

There were two guys that I developed feelings for in my sophomore and junior year, but both fell through when they got to know me and decided they weren’t looking for relationships. The last one really screwed me up, because I became quite emotionally invested in him, and him in me, for about a month and a half. He told me how much he cared about me, how he wanted to be with me, and then changed his mind over the course of one week. Of course, he was dating someone else a week and a half later, but you know. Details.

Needless to say, I was done with guys who made me feel vulnerable and hurt. Enter John, the funny redneck who charmed his way into my life with a smile, who held no regard for me, but continued being my friend. It took me awhile, but by the time Rose and Jenny were off at college, I was starting to get over it.

I was single, lonely, and headed down a path I didn’t know how I’d ended up at and BOOM. I’m back where I was in ninth grade, listening to the charming words of a boy who gave me what I’d been craving, which I took readily. I was already keeping Christ as arms-length, and I fell deep into a boy I swore I would never go back to: Bryan.

Until next time,

Lily May xoxo

Well; This is Me

Right. So, apparently, writing about your feelings on the internet can make you feel better about yourself.
No, really. It’s even being recommended as a therapy for some people. They write about their personal feelings to strangers and they feel better. So, I’m going for it.
I’m Lily May. Obviously, you don’t get to know my real name because that is so not how this works. If there is anything watching Criminal Minds has taught me, it’s that I should not put my personal information on the internet because people are crazy. Not that anyone would want to stalk me. But seriously.
Anyways—Lily May. I’m a freshmen Pre-Nursing student at an awesome college. I’m eighteen years old, and totally overwhelmed, but in a good way. It’s new and it’s semi-terrifying, and I kind of feel like I have no idea what on earth im doing, but it’s good, right? I’m supposed to be learning.
A little bit about me: I grew up in a small town. I’m a southern girl, yes, but not in the plaid-wearing stereotype, or even the camo-wearing stereotype. I’m just a girl raised in the beautiful south. I believe in sweet tea, true love, and Jesus. I believe is Jesus in the way that means He’s the Savior, the Lord of my life, and the true Son of God. I believe in him in the way that I know I would be unbelievably lost without Him.
I’ll be talking about Him a lot. Probably not as much as I should, but a lot.
My parents are two wonderful people that I adore, even if I don’t always show it. Mama is a little crazy, but I don’t honestly know any normal people. She always has too much on her plate because she loves being busy, and because she doesn’t understand saying “No” to people. I don’t think the people she helps understand how much she cares, because she can come off as controlling and uptight. They don’t see her at home, though. If she’s had a long day (she’s a nurse, among about three other side jobs, one of which doesn’t pay), she’ll come home and declare she’s going to “turn into a pumpkin” if it’s past eight.
“I’m like Cinderella,” she’ll say just about every time. “Except not the beautiful princess, but the carriage that stops running at midnight and turns into a pumpkin. Also, it’s not midnight, it’s eight o’clock…maybe im not that much Cinderella.”
Yeah. She’s a little goofy.
My dad also works three jobs. He’s the most diverse, amazing, kind-hearted man in the entire world. He fixes our bikes, our cars, and provides for the family to the best of his ability. He fixes plumbing problems and drills holes in walls, and all those other manly things. He also works at JC Penny’s as a cashier/security of sorts (because our little JCP does not have security). On top of that, he works as the baker at the tea shop in town. I actually worked there for two years before I left for college, and it was pretty fun working with my dad.
Funnily enough, my dad is the romantic of my parents. My mom is a pretty stereotypical “I loved a man and he destroyed me and I never actually recovered from what he did to me, so you better learn that true love is crap that will only let you down. You don’t want to learn it the hard way.”
My dad, on the other hand, tells me to believe in love if I want to believe in love.
“It does exist,” he tells me frequently. “But just realize that it fades. You choose to love someone, and you should stick by that choice when things get rough, if you believe in true love. Because commitment through the ugly times is what makes true love real. Loving someone after you’ve seen every bad part of them, after they get fat and wrinkly—that’s love.”
My parents have taught me a lot about love and commitment. They steer me towards Christ, who loves unconditionally, and a committed way that we can never understand and can only hope to achieve. We’ll never quite be there, but we can try.
My belief in true love can get me in trouble, however, especially if I approach it at a worldly view.
But that’s for later. 🙂
My oldest brother, James, loves is one of the funniest people I know. He’s a lot like my mom, because he used to be more care free and believed in love. He’s always been stubborn and quick-tempered, but he used to love so deeply, and showed it through service. He still does, but he had a bad relationship and it sort of ruined him. The girl he thought he was going to marry cheated on him, and he started a downward spiral that scared everybody around us. He abandoned God completely when he was in his first year of college (though it honestly started happening long before that; he’s always thought about everything too much and doubted God; it just seemed for permanent when he graduated.)
James is one of my favorite humans ever. He’s highly inappropriate and I’m so scared for where his life is going, especially since he dropped out of school, but I love him a ton. Despite his flaws, he’s always made sure I knew he loved me. He wants to protect me, he checks up on me, and he goes out of his way to make sure I’m happy. Whether it’s making me laugh when I’m having a bad day or driving to a different state for my birthday present, he always shows me that he’s there.
The middle child and my second older brother, Bryan, is polar opposite to James. He’s a devout Christian, who tries his best to follow the Lord. He slips up like we all do, but he tries more than most people I know. He has a great heart, and loves basically everybody…although he does have a bit of a road rage problem, like all the men in my family. The thing is, he’s kind of the best guy I know (except Timothy, but I’ll tell you about him later). He’s athletic and extremely goofy, but struggles in social situations. He’s kind of awkward. It’s one of the ways that we’re similar.
So yeah. That’s my family. We’ve grown up struggling with money, living from pay check to pay check, but we’re a close knit family who love each other. We’ve had plenty of problems; a list too long to type and unnecessary to look back on, honestly. The thing is, we still know we have each other’s backs. That’s what family is supposed to do, right? We’re there for each other, we try our best to make everything work, and it does…in a dysfunctional way.
“Why are you talking about your family, Lily May?”
Excellent question! Thank you for asking. I don’t actually know, other than that I’m going to be writing about my life to you random people, or maybe you random person, or maybe nobody at all. If I’m telling you about my life, you should know about the people who make me, me. Right?
(Does that paragraph even make sense? I don’t even know.)
Those people helped make me who I am. A while ago, I would’ve thought that was really good person. I thought I had my crap together the summer before my senior year. My relationship with God was good, I was really involved church and about to join an Impact Team in my youth group to learn how to be a student leader. I had a great group of friends I loved, I respected and loved my family, I started losing a little weight, and I had my crap together.
I defined myself by my kindness for a long time. I have always been good at loving people, because it’s what my family does. We love people, we take care of people, and we serve people. I followed that, I followed Christ is trying to love like Him, and I was good at it. I was the motherly friend, who took care of people. I didn’t get called up, just me, to go out by my guy friends, or even some of my girlfriend’s, but if you fell and scraped your knee, you came crying to me to fix it.
It changed, rather quickly, and started when my best friend went off to college.
This all may seem pointless, but I promise I’m getting there. You have to get where I was in life before I tell you why I’m an idiot, and why I honestly have no clue who I am anymore.

Until next time my beauties,
Lily May xoxo