Week Four

Life is short. It goes like a dream. One day you open your eyes and you are just a kid. The next day you open them and find out that you have grown up. Where did all those years go? No one told you that time was passing. It is quite ironic to think that we spent most of our childhood dreaming of the day we would become adults;however, once we turn 18 we are crying because of the lost time.
I just turned 17 this week. People keep pestering me of how it feels to be one year near full age. I, honestly, find no difference between being seventeen or eighteen. Apart from the fact that I can be easily arrested at eighteen, there are no differences between this two ages.
Lately, I have been thinking of the reasons why I suddenly stopped wanting to grow up so desperately. However, every time I think about it, my mind always goes to the same issue: Bullying. I guess bullying is the responsible of why I changed my childhood dreams. It made me realize that growing up was more than being able to drive your own car and being a late sleeper.    
When I lived in El Salvador, I met two of the most amazing people in the world. Their names were Andrea and Angel. For some, they had nothing special. They were not popular, nor extraordinarily attractive. People looked down on them, not realizing their full potential.
Being in a new school with all kind of different people was hard. I was not accepted easily into the group. No one noticed me. Yet, Angel and Andrea did. Andrea was a straight A student. She was the teacher's favorite-reason why people tended to dislike her a bit. Angel, on the other hand, had been bullied his whole life at school. He was mocked, pushed around, and even physically assaulted by my classmates. I sometimes ask my self how was he able to survive eleven years without someone to rely on.
When I first met, Angel something clicked - it was like we were both destined to know each other. I was shy and could barely interact with people outside my family circle; Angel was not that different from me. He had grown up in a home were values and strong Christian principles were taught-just like me. This of course was considered out of place by my peers. It wasn't a great surprise when we turned into bullying targets.
People would hid our notebooks or push us in the corridors. They would nag us of how we would end up together because no one else would want to be with us. We would sit alone in the cafeteria. It was like the pest, no one would go any close to us. Why? Because people told them not to. The only reason people would talk with us was to ask for our homework so they could copy it.
I remember each time I asked my Heavenly Father why did all those bad thing happened. I mean, Angel and I tried to stand up to our principles. We weren't doing anything wrong. Yet, being a Mormon or being a gentleman was wrong for our classmates.
At school, I would put a straight face on and pretended that noting was wrong; however, every morning was a torture.  Angel was the only reason why I went to school. He had slowly changed his personal view on himself. He started realizing that he wasn't useless. Someone really cared for him. With time, his enthusiasm concerning his new discovery became contagious. I started realizing that I too wasn't useless. I had a friend, didn't I?
Gradually, we started to defend ourselves. People became nuts when it happened. They pushed us harder, but the harder they pushed the stronger we became. Soon, Andrea joined our fight. We were the three musketeers. In a way, it was like 'Us against the world'.
Now, that I'm back to my home country, I can't lie and say that I have left my bulling experience behind. There are some things I still have to come into terms with. However, life is much easier and happier now that I know of what I'm capable of doing. I have two new siblings. Without them I probably wouldn't have survived high school. But, more importantly, if it had not been because of God, nor Angel or Andrea would have been put into my life. Somehow, I know that bulling was necessary for my personal growth. God knew it, and now I know it too.
For those that are currently being bullied, don't give up. You are precious children of our Heavenly Father. He loves you and will do anything to save you. He did it with me. Don't give up on the future. It may seem dark, but there is always light at the end of the tunnel.
Smile. Don't worry. Because every little thing is gonna be alright.
-Leslie :)

Week Three

Every girl dreams for the perfect love story. We dream of someday finding 'the perfect man' with whom we will spend the rest of our lives. Even the toughest girls blush when a guy smiles at them. When it comes to love, we are weak. I can't deny it. Even though I'm one of those feminist girls that affirm that girls are smarter than most of the guys, I'm afraid to say that when it comes to love our logic and innate intelligence is outsmarted.
When we are single, we spend our free time imagining the perfect relationship.  I blame all those romantic movies that make us establish high expectative towards love. I've watched movies like Pride and Prejudice and The Notebook. I cried in every single one of them. Why did I cry? I have no idea. I guess that the whole prospect of love lasting forever made me feel kind of vulnerable. Somewhere in my heart I knew that those kind of stories never happen in real life, but I couldn't help but long for experiencing that kind of feeling.
There is a saying that alleges that girls think with the heart and not with their brain. IT IS THE MOST ABSURD SAYING EVER!. I wouldn't be surprised if a man said it. What differs girls from boys is the fact that girls actually care. Usually when a guy asks a girl is because of her outside. He finds her pretty and instantly becomes attracted to her. Farther in the relationship the guy finds that the girl is not actually his 'type' so he breaks up with her. So who was the fool one? Well, the girl because she was silly enough to actually care for this guy. Women come from Venus, Men from Mars. Girls love devotedly. Boys they-well, are boys. I'm aware that somewhere in the world there are boys that actually care for they girlfriends. If there weren't then happy families wouldn't exist. Still, I guess that the values in which love is based are slowly being lost.
Valentine's day just passed. Presents have been already exchanged. New relationships have blossomed. Some have been broken. Some were living a fairy tale. Some stayed at home and sat on a couch imagining how Valentine's day would be different if they actually had somebody.  
Every girls dreams for a fairy tale. Few get them. Every girl longs for romance. Not everyone finds it. I'm afraid that someday love will only be a myth. Will I ever get my 'movie worthy' love story? I don't know.
I believe in romance. I'm a girl after all. I just hope that one day I find someone who actually cares for me and accepts me for who I am. Flaws included.
Happy Valentine's for those that are in a relationship; and a more special Valentine's for those that are single. Don't loose faith. The most beautiful story is the one that hasn't been written. Make it yours.
-Leslie

Week Two

Have you ever have once of those suck-ish days in which you wished you had never woken up? Well, I have.  Today, for example. When I woke up at 4:30 a.m. I expected to have a long relaxing hot shower, but my plans were soon changed when I discovered that there was no hot water left. So, I had to go to my morning scripture's classes clad in my pajamas, so once I returned home I could have my shower. However, some kind of mysterious force really had something against me because both my bathroom and my parents bathroom had flooded! So, no shower for me-yuck!
 Then, running late to school, my dad totally forgot my stop so I had to run an entire block to reach school just on time. Once at school, I found out that I had left my locker keys in my bag so I had to break my padlock using a pair of scissors and faith. Then, when I thought that it couldn't be any worse, I discovered that the essay in which I had worked hours on was left forgotten on top of my desk! Thankfully my teacher was   sympathetic and gave me one more day to hand in the blasted essay. May heavens bless her.
Finally, on my way home, while walking on the street, somehow I managed to tangle with my feet and fell on my bak in the most ridiculous way someone can imagine.
Yeah, today was not a "Let's love Leslie day".
So tell me. Is this some kind of signal that Karma really hates me? If it is not, then, is there any lesson I have to learn? Maybe I should calm down and have a break. Perhaps, the universe is trying to tell me to stop being such a crying workaholic twit. I don't know. Maybe I should laugh about it. If I come to think about it, my day was kind of funny. Someday I'll tell my grandchildren about this horrid day and they will laugh so hard 'till their stomachs hurt. At least my mom laughed.
I'm not sure. I guess, I should stop being melodramatic. Who knows? Maybe my karma changes someday.
Wish me luck!
XOXO
-The girl with bad karma.