Not caring?

I'm currently reading this great book called Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green & David Levithan. The book basically follows two teenagers both named Will Grayson. They lead seemingly different lives, but are connected by their mutual best friend, Tiny Cooper. Wikipedia explains it better than I do: click here.
Anyway, I'm bringing this up because one of the Will Graysons lives his life somewhat numbly. He refuses to love or become attached to anything. He lives by two rules: don't care too much and shut up. I think by doing this, he thinks he'll become invincible to whatever comes his way, so he'll lead a nice, safe life... but honestly, I disagree. I understand that he doesn't want anyone to be able to hurt him-or notice him, for that matter-but what kind of life is he living if he doesn't allow himself to become passionate about anything? Is he really even living?
Someone I know once said that everyone on the planet wants the same thing: to matter to and be loved by another. And if you don't give out that love, I don't think you should expect to get it from anyone else. If people look at you and see you crying or frowning all day everyday, they aren't going to want to spend time with you. Everyone knows misery loves company, but nobody WANTS to be sad.
I think the point of this post is that, no matter how scary it is, or how much it could potentially hurt, I think you have to love people, and be able to let love in. Because, well, if you don't... what's the point of being here?

Happiness

I was told once that we, as humans, determine our own happiness. We can take everything personally and with a frown on our face, or we can smile through our tears and CHOOSE to be happy. I don't know if I agree with this, but I'd like to believe it to be true. So why do people have such trouble with their own happiness? Can we blame the media, for putting ideas of how we "should" look and feel and be like in our heads, or others, for pointing out that, sometimes, we just aren't like that? Or can we merely blame ourselves for falling into the trap of self-pity? I understand that other people do things that upset us, and people let us down, and people we care about or maybe even love leave or reject us or die, but, in the end... we can't blame them. We kind of just have to let it go and move on. Dwelling on things only makes them worse.
As I think about it, I'm realizing that I'm probably happiest around my soccer team. Free of judgment, 20 teenage girls come together and bond through a common interest: soccer. I'm closer to some than others, but I'm forced to trust in the fact that they have my back. Whether it's making themselves open for a back pass out of trouble, or lending an ear when I need to rant about something, they really are there for me.

Introduction

My name is Peyton. I'm almost fifteen years old, and I'm living in a small town in Minnesota. I don't know if I'd categorize myself as "normal", but I'm not really an outcast, either. I just think of things a little bit differently than my peers.
I've been looking into blogging for awhile now. I went through a period in my life not long ago in which I really had nobody to talk to. My friends didn't seem like real friends anymore; it seemed like they never wanted me around. My sister was too busy for me, my dad was disappointed in me, and my mom never knew what to say. I guess they (whoever "they" are) call it depression, or maybe even paranoia. I eventually made it past that phase after a long struggle, but the point is... I want people feeling like I did to be able to find this blog and see something in me that they see in themselves. I just wish that people looking for hope, love, anything, can find this and hopefully find some of whatever they're looking for. And I hope that, through this blog, you and I can get to know each other, no matter where you are.