101

I just realized that Real Right Now was my 100th post.

Holy shit...

I started this blog the beginning of my junior year. It's crazy to think how much has happened since then.

Back then I was still holding onto my sophomore year and my ex-boyfriend. (typical Kenzie)

I was just starting to gain confidence in myself, but I was still so intrigued with this new thing I had found called love.

Love is the most important thing to me. I told my sophomore friend my life story a month and a half ago or so and he said he admired the fact that the most important parts to me were my relationships. Then just this past week I was talking to my cousin on a midnight hike. I told him a little bit about my relationships and I realized while I was talking to him how important it all was to me. How I don't care about having a big house. I don't care about having the best job in the world - though I still want to follow my dreams - over all of my other dreams I want someone to wake up to every morning. And yes we'll probably try spooning while sleeping, then realize how uncomfortable it is and sleep on separate sides, but so what. I get someone who wants to spend the rest of their lives with me. What on this world is more beautiful than that?

I've had 12 relationships starting my seventh grade year. Each relationship has made me grow more than any friendship I've ever had. I don't know if that's strange. But I think it's kinda cool.

Anyways, totally sidetracked.

This is post 101.

101 posts of depression, complaining, and drama.

101 post and I'm driving in my friends passenger seat with my boyfriends grinning at the back of my head while we blast Coral Bones. (look them up. they're so good.)

101 posts and I'm happy.

101 posts and my friend group has done a 360 no scope and I'm surrounded by the people I never thought I'd be close to. But now I love them. I love them and I'm tired of the past. I'm tired of the drama, and I want to live.

A friend of mine got sent to St George by his parents. That sucked.

An old friend got bullied out of our family. If it counts for anything, I'm sorry.

I'm not sure what I'm writing anymore. I'm kinda just doing another right now.

28 days guys.

28 days and these halls will not be ours anymore.

28 days and then who knows if we'll be remembered.

Who will remember us?

Does it matter?

Should we care about being noteworthy to a bunch of high school students?

Should we pray paint our names on the walls in our blood to mark all the late night papers? All the books read on sparks notes?

Though honestly besides the paper cuts it was more emotional than physical. So maybe our names are painted on the walls. Emotionally...cuz that makes sense... #poetrygonewrong

I don't know. Let's just all be sentimental for a day. Maybe we should do it for a class period. We can make poetic metaphors and all that fun shit. I have no idea.

Just know that we have 28 days left and I don't know everyones name in our class. Sorry Nelson. I feel like everyone has been saying that a lot.

28 days.

Damn.