onceuponarealityproductions

I’m realistically unrealistic.

In Uncategorized on February 10, 2012 at 6:05 am

I had probably one of the best conversations with someone that I’ve had in awhile…just yesterday.

Thank you, Julie.

 

Thank you for believing in a foolish dreamer. Julie is quite a character. She always has been. She always will be. Me and Julie practically grew up together. We became more than cousins. We were sisters. And if you asked the 10-year-old versions of us, we would convince you that we were twins. We dressed alike. Finished each other’s sentences. We even had a secret language. To this day, we have weird nicknames for each other. We’ve become more than Erika and Julie. We’re Kah and Juu Juu. We encourage each other’s dreams and whims. I can tell her that I want to be a tractor when I grow up, and she will support it. A lot of people who know me now, know me as a goofy person. Half the time I have eyeliner gunk falling from my eyes (if I’ve remembered to wear makeup at all). I usually have a stain on my clothes or mismatched socks. You can find a half jar of mayo in my car. I talk to my cats like they’re humans. And I snort when I laugh. I’m happy. I smile a lot. I laugh hard and proudly.

When I was a kid, I was quiet. I had a hard time talking to people. Making eye contact was out of the question. I was so introverted that it hurt. My cousin was one of the few people who could make me laugh. Belly laugh. I’ve acquired the belly laugh from years of watching the stuff my cousin has done. She used to throw potted plants off the windowsill just to get me to chuckle.

Now, we’re 26. I’m single with 2 cats. She’s married with a child. We’re seemingly completely distant in our experiences that we’re going through at the moment, when in reality, we still get each other. She tells me her dreams. I tell her mine. No matter what we tell each other, we still believe in each other. She knows that I’m realistically unrealistic, and she cheers it on. I respect her for that.

Dear Julie. Thank you. Thank you for pushing the pots off the windowsill. Thank you for reminding me that my life is my own. It doesn’t matter which state I live in. It doesn’t matter what I end up being when I grow up. It doesn’t matter. None of it does. The only thing that matters, is that I live my life. For me…and only me. 

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