Me at 15. I like me at 15.

All winter I pled for summer and now summer is here and I feel so lonely.

I miss childhood, I miss being in middle school, sleeping on a trampoline and staring at the stars. I miss climbing up the garden roof. I miss walking into the yellow house and hearing familiar barks. I miss my friends knocking on the door all of the time to the point that they bothered me and I’d say, jeez, could you give me a few days to unwind from our last hang out? I miss capture the flag with the fearsome Miranda and Taylor. I miss philosophy nights with Ethan and Ky. I miss Ron coming in the door and staying for a while to talk about the gospel. I miss knowing what my friends did yesterday, the day before, and what they’re doing tomorrow.

I read my journals a couple weeks ago from my middle- and high school years and I noticed that I was constantly worried about my friends and family. I was constantly praying and writing about them. I wish I could be constantly worried about someone other than myself right now. And at the same time, I crave for friends that will worry about me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this because I am studying the scriptures for my (first!) lesson in Sunday School and what keeps coming up in my head (that’s on the side of my lesson) is that we, especially women, need other women. We need friends. We need to feel that love.

I am twenty-one years old and I will not be forced into thinking that making dinners for other people is easy and fun cause I’m a wifey now. It’s not. I’m twenty-one years and I’d like to be fed without working for it. And I don’t want to “entertain.” I want to leave the house whenever I want so I can look at stars and knock on neighbors’ doors and say “Hey can you play? I’m bored” or “I have a question about the Plan of Happiness and we need to discuss this… now.”

I just re-read what I’ve written and the thing is, I do constantly worry about friends. But sometimes you have to let go of friends that don’t care enough about you. I hate letting go because letting go doesn’t mean forgetting, it means dealing with the pain of letting friends go. That hurts and when someone finds the cure to make that come easy, give it to me cause I’m full of sentimental pain.

I just want friends. I think that’s what I’m saying. I want friends and rad summer nights.


  1. Some good memories mixed into those summer nights. Shaking trees after it rained, riding our bikes everywhere, our YouTube talk show? Ha! Anyway, you know you can always call me up Anne. I know it’s been a while, but I’ll always be there for you!

  2. Thanks, Tas. 🙂 I’m bummed I didn’t get to hike to the waterfall with you guys. That sounded super fun!

  3. I get how you feel. When I was first married, I heard about this visitors getting together and was madthat I wasnt invited. Then, randomly this rad couple moved in upstairs and life got a little less lonely. We still get together 10 years later!

  4. Lindsey, I love that! That makes me happy. Especially when we’re so close to everyone, we know who is friends with who and when people are doing things. I wish I had more courage to invite people over more often or just knock on people’s doors.

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