A letter to my future child-

When the day comes that someone tells you they’ll love you forever,
Do not let it consume you,
because there will be a day that will come,
when they will tell you that they don’t anymore,
and there will be nothing left of you.

—  Rebekah Joyner

When I was seventeen I fell in love with a boy and his lips and the way they felt against mine mixed with cold winter air.
I thought I had found him.
I loved him so much, baby. I swore he was the only one for me.
He was an addiction. I never knew what love felt like until I saw the way he looked at me in the middle of a crowded room.
He was everything, baby. I would’ve died to see him smile. And if I’m being honest.. To this day, his laugh is still the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
He left, and I spent months choking up every “I love you” that ever escaped his lips. He ruined every happy song and every sad song. He consumed me, and the loss of him shook me to the core.
I felt the loss deep in my soul and I swore to God I’d never be okay again, not without him.
I didn’t want to love if it wasn’t him.
I spent days in bed and I read every single sad poem I could possibly read and cried and cried and cried into my mothers arms. And slowly, I learned.

But baby, heartbreak happens. And it fades. I’m telling you this because I know.
It will be okay.

Cry when he leaves.
Cry when you see him with another girl a week after he said, “I don’t love you anymore.” You are not weak.
Stay home from school and crawl into my arms. I will be here forever, I promise you this.
Scream if you need to. Let’s burn his sweatshirt in the backyard.
Baby, you will love again.
You’re bruised, you are never broken.
I know how much this hurts.
I’m so proud of you.

—  The letter I’ll give to my daughter when her first love breaks her heart

To the boy I’ll always love,

It’s been a while since we last talked. It’s been two months now, to be exact. But who’s counting, right? I’m not sure why I’m writing you this letter when I know you’ll never actually read it but I guess I just want closure, you know? And I feel like this is it.

I miss you, that’s the first thing I need you to know. All those memories we made, they mean everything to me and it cuts vein-deep to know we’ll never make more of them… they had to mean something to you too, right? I’m not going crazy? You actually liked having me around, right? I don’t even know what to believe anymore, honestly.

But what I do know is that I miss you.

How we first started talking in Algebra class and how we’d get in trouble because we were talking too much. The time when I stayed for football practice and the smell of fresh cut grass that was in the air when you hugged me for the first time. Or how we sat together and laughed for what seemed like forever during lunch on the last week of school. One of my favorite memories is Valentine’s Day. You remember that day? God, how could you possibly forget? I still have everything you gave me in my room, you know? I can’t even begin to process the thought of throwing it all away.

Everyone tells me that I should just forget you. So many more ask me why it is I still bother to give you the time of day when all you do is hurt me, and I always tell them that I don’t know. Isn’t that when you know you’re in love? When you don’t know why it’s so hard to forget them, but it just is? God, but how can I love you when we never even dated? I just can’t comprehend that…

I have good days and bad days when it comes to thinking of you. Somedays I smile and think of the way you’d come to school with your new ridiculous haircuts, other days I can’t help but cry in the shower so my family won’t know how broken you left me that summer day.

Life without you… it actually isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. That has to be a good sign, I know it. I’m getting by and I can actually go out and have fun every once in a while without thinking of your hands or your black jeans or how you’d walk in front of me on your way to second period.

I even started to talk to someone. He was great, and he could make me laugh, and the best part of it all was that he didn’t have your smile or eyes. He wasn’t you and it made me believe that maybe I didn’t need you as much as I thought I did. But you know what? He couldn’t replace the memories you already gave me. He’s amazing and any girl out there could easily learn to love him if they gave him the proper time of day, but no one will ever be able to compete with the way you left me feeling every time you’d smile a goodbye at me.

People tell me that moving on comes with time, but the thing is, I’m not even sure I want to forget everything you gave me. You took pieces of me I didn’t even know I had and I have no fucking idea how to get them back. I know you don’t even care and this is probably a waste of my time but if I don’t say this now, it’ll burn into my lungs until I find the guts to think of it again. I’m not sure why it is we drifted but if there’s anything I regret in this life, it’s letting you go so easily when all I wanted to do was try and make it right with you.

I’ve written so many things about you, so many poems and letters and it hurts to know that I have to write about you just to make sure the broken parts of me don’t make me fade the way you did. I fucking hate not having you around anymore but it is what it is… Just - just know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough to keep you with me.

I watched you walk away that afternoon on the 4th of June, watched you until you were no longer there. You were wearing the shirt you wore on Valentine’s Day. And those stupid Adidas that you would wear everyday but I absolutely adored them. You didn’t even glance back. All I wanted was to get a last look at you before you were no longer in my life anymore because I knew then what that moment was. It was my one-sided goodbye. A goodbye you didn’t have to go through. I just wanted more time - that’s all I wanted. I wanted more pictures, more laughs, more words, more memories. I wanted more of you.

I’m so sorry for being so selfish. But I understand now that you were never mine and you never fucking will be. I saw the way you used to look at that one girl during lunch. Maybe you’ll give her a chance one day - a chance you never gave me. Find someone to commit to, darling. Make sure she doesn’t break your heart. Don’t fall in love just to get hurt, please. Find a girl who’ll love you the way I did. Find a girl who’ll love you even more.

I have no idea where you are at the moment. Maybe you’re at home playing video games, maybe you’re out in Italy exploring the world or maybe you’re at the park walking your Chocolate Labrador. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, but don’t you ever forget that I’ll be thinking about you and wondering if you’re thinking about me too, even for the slightest second.

But I’m done writing about you, honey. I can’t write about you forever. I’m done with it all. I know you are too. But forgetting you… how does one do that? How do I forget all the love songs that remind me of you now? How do I get the sound of your voice out of my aching, swollen veins? How did you forget me? Teach me how to forget you, please, I can’t take it anymore.

I fucking hate you so much, you fucking know that? I’m angry and sad and frustrated and pissed off all because of you. You’re nothing but a fucking boy who needs to grow up and I hope no one ever treats you the way you treated me, you shit.

I don’t even know what emotion to feel anymore. I-I’m so tired of screaming at my bedroom walls and wailing for you to come back. You killed me that afternoon and I don’t know how to forgive you for it anymore. I can’t hate you, I can’t love you, so what can I fucking do?

I can’t-…

Just - can this be our proper goodbye? Something I can remember without it bringing the most bitter taste to my throat? You make it through life, babe. Make something of yourself, succeed.

But think of me from time to time, yeah? Don’t let me fade. Keep me there when you think no one loves you.

Know I’ll always love you, even if I’m in the arms of someone else. They won’t ever be able to erase what you left me with.

I’m sorry this is so long and lengthy but I just really needed you to know this; I can’t walk away now without having you know what it is I felt for you and how I felt when you dropped me.

I hate having to finally say this and actually mean it now, but… goodbye.

You’ll be okay, I know. You’ve always been the strongest of us too and I’ve always hated you for it.

I’m done holding on.

From, the girl who has nothing left to say

—  August 4, 2014

1. He will strip you down
raw and ruined.
It is your responsibility to pick up the pieces.

2. She will leave. Everything will burn.
There is something so beautiful
about rising from the ashes of a past life.

3. They will always love you.
You take for granted the kiss of gratitude
she sends to you in late night phone calls.
His hair will grey and her heart will wither,
do not withhold your thank you’s.

4. You have permission
to build yourself around those who stand like stones,
they will build you mountains.

5. I have died a thousand times.
My blood has shed far too often.
You are finally at peace.
You may finally move on.

—  Michelle K., Things I Have Learned at Twenty-One.
Loving you was waiting; constantly waiting. Waiting for you to get home, waiting to see you, waiting for you to wake up so I could hear your voice. Loving you was perfect, all of your dreams were wonderful and the only thing I wanted to do was live them with you. You gave me so many reasons to love myself, loving you was laughter, it was the way it echoed against an empty wall, how it sent waves of tingling happiness over my skin. It was looking into your eyes and seeing hope. Loving you was hell, you being gone made my body ache so much 
that it physically hurt to be without you. Fighting with you was the worst, not talking at all was even harder. Loving you was beautiful, stealing glances at someone I could already look at whenever I wanted to. Missing the smell of you, when you had to leave that time you held me, hugged me tighter and kissed my cheek. Loving you was so fucked up pretending everything was okay so that maybe eventually it would be, because neither of us wanted to recognise when we were breaking, but didn’t know where to turn once we were already broken. Loving you was suicide comparing you to cigarettes and a cheap bottle of wine would be too nice. Your very presence was intoxicating but you were like heroin, shooting up into my heart, destroying me from inside. Loving you was finally understanding why people can’t always detach themselves from something thats killing them. I’m 73 days clean of you, and I’ve never felt worse.
—  - A Letter From A Recovering Addict.

Dramatic Reading of a Break Up Letter.
Just gonna stick this here again because it’s JUST SO FUCKING FUNNY

He was like that hot stove your parents told you not to touch as a child. Every part of you screamed that you shouldn’t, but the curiosity still ate away at you didn’t it? It didn’t matter if people told you it would burn. You had to find out for yourself.

So you touched. And it was scalding.

Except, unlike with the stove, you didn’t jerk away. You only fell further into him. You let his flames consume you, wisping up your neck, singeing your hair, scorching your skin.

For awhile it felt like he had set you both alight. You were both fire. A ravenous, beautiful, tumbling blaze. So in sync, yet so out of control. You craved him, didn’t you?

So how did it feel when you realized that you both weren’t made of flames? That maybe one of you was just kindling?

Honey, fires were meant to die out. That is their nature.

Fire is weak.

Fire disappears at the slightest sight of water.
Fire is greedy. Fire just consumes and consumes until there’s nothing left.
Fire destroys.

And I know it hurts to breathe, but you’ve got to remember that Fire can’t even hold its breath, because it dies within seconds.

You are so much stronger than that which burned you.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been reduced to embers or ashes.
While the fire has ceased to exist, you are still here.


Maybe When the Smoke Clears, You’ll Understand.


I still text you.
I write about how much I miss you, how much I loved you, how you dragged your fingertips across my back and how many times I tried to recreate that on my wrists.
I write about how I buy your favorite cologne and spray it all over my bedsheets so that I can smell you again.
I write about how I stopped drinking and smoking because you always told me that it was a bad habit, even though I know that I’m lying.
I write about how I still make dinner for two and never let guests sit in your chair.
I write about how I kept our old pictures, and how I framed them on my walls.
—  I never send them