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Existence

@melodythehopeful

Lost isn't profound enough.
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Miles,

I got your letter. A while ago. I read it and reread it. I was angry, then I wasn't. I always said I would never forgive you, and the broken parts of me still don't want to. But there is more to it than forgiveness and apologies.

I'm sure we both owe each other plenty of apologies. For millions of things that we both did, both when we were us and when we weren't. We were kids. Young minds with so little experience, we were just acting on impulse and dopamine we thought was love. I do forgive you, you were only a kid. You were going through so much and had very little in the way of handling any of it. I was also only a kid, and while I did not deserve to suffer more than I had already, neither of us knew the real weight of our actions.

I need this off my shoulders just as much as you do. We were just kids. We knew no better. We let our feelings run rampant and they caused our downfall. I still care for you. I do not love you, but I hope you're doing well. It would be unfair of me to wish evil on you when the actions that caused my pain were actions of someone who didn't know what they didn't know. If we could go back, knowing what we know now, I'm sure we would both do things very very differently. But that's the point isn't it? You don't get to go back. You don't get re-dos. We learned lessons from one another. As much as those lessons might have hurt us, they were ones we needed. Far too early, some may argue, but needed nonetheless.

I forgive you, Miles. And I hope that you'll forgive me too. The children we were deserve some peace. Let's give them that.

Always,

Melody

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Changes.

Things are changing. I am changing. There is new and this is that.

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Words are Hard..

Words are hard. When I’m anxious my mind floods with them. A word search that doesn’t quite match up, a crossword puzzle with no clues. It’s hard for me to sort my mind to have a decent, meaningful conversation about what I’m thinking about when it’s so jumbled I’m sure it’s in another language that’s not yet been found. I end up shaking my head and saying nothing, frustrated because it’s truly the opposite. How am I supposed to speak through sobs that choke anyway? I want my words to mean something so badly and when they become jumbled ruins that I can’t make sense of, I cry in frustration and then I’m even more complicated to understand. It’s been this way since I was little. As long as I can remember my anxiety chokes me up and gives me verbal dyslexia. I want to communicate so badly. I want to tell you every little thing. About how I only want to make things easier. About how I am terrified I’ve been too much or not enough. About how I want to tell you things but my mind can’t solve the puzzle. I could sit soaking in my anxiety for hours before I say 3 simple words. I promise you I am trying my best. You deserve so much and I am still learning things, things I never knew I had to learn. When I shake my head at you asking me, nearly begging to know what is going on in my mind, I am not telling you no. I am not telling you nothing. I am simply angry with myself for not being able to form words. 

Eventually they will come. Never in that moment. I will sort out the crossword puzzle in my brain eventually, and I will find someway to get the words to you. Some way to tell you all the thoughts eating at my brain, especially in regards to you. There are so many. But I have been convinced that they are not worth hearing or that they are too much, I’m still working through that. I want to share with you so badly. So many things. Mostly gratitude. You’ve taught me so many things. You’ve given me somewhere that I effortlessly belong. You have communicated so many things with me. You have made it so easy to care for you. You make things clear and you make it easy to trust you. 

I will say that I have had hesitation believing you, but that is not a reflection of you or anything you’ve done. It is all old anxiety that I did not know would show itself until it did, it’s easy to tame. And I swear you are magic with the ways you tame my anxiety. There have been several instances of driving with you that I was so uneasy, my anxiety had me in a choke hold and I was just trying to chill and all of a sudden you’d put your hand on my thigh or hold my hand, like you knew. 

These things aren’t pointless but I promise there is a point to this. I know you don’t know what you need right now. And that is okay. I know that I can’t magically help you figure out what you need, as much as I want to. And I know that what you need may not be what I want, and that is okay too. I just want you to know that I will be here while you figure it out, just like I have been. And I will still be here when you do figure it out, be it what we’re doing or whatever else it may be. I’m sorry that it takes me a while to gather my words. And I’m sorry that life is overwhelming right now, but whatever you need, I’m here. 

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Aftercare..

How was I supposed to know there was something that comes after? My first, all that came after was the regretful and awkward drive home. Thats how it was every time with him. Thats how it was every time until after high school. 

Then there was no aftercare because there was no care in it at all. Nothing intimate or loving existed there. I laid in bed feeling guilty, worthless, not enough, and he’d be across the room watching youtube videos on end until he felt I’d be useful again. 

Then it was quick and unsatisfying, at the end, in the after? Nothing. We did whatever, video games and tik toks, or something that was never together, never connecting, never caring. 

Then the same thing, only it was always video games. He’d leave me in bed to clean up for myself, tend to myself, lay there and feign sleep and he’d play video games in the other room. I was never the priority.

So how was I supposed to know that there was more. How was I supposed to know that I was supposed to be cared for, or care for another. How was I supposed to know that laying there, just laying there, wasn’t the only option. And more importantly, how on earth am I supposed to communicate the toxicity,

He asked “is this your favorite aftercare? just laying here, chillen?” I said yes, not because it was the truth, but because it was all I’d known. How am I supposed to ask for more...?

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Distance

Life is funny in the way that it beckons us through. Gives us choices that we won’t know are right or wrong until it is far too late to mend the wrongs. Let’s us pretend that we know exactly what we’re doing and that we make no mistakes, even though we are battling the mistakes internally. Life lets the ebb and flow do just that, it takes us in its current and forces us to swim, to keep our heads above water.

Lately, I’m finding it hard to keep my head above water. I keep thinking about things that used to be a life vest and now they just feel like water in my lungs. You are one of those things that used to keep me afloat and now just ache, you are one of the last things I thought would ever cause me this pain. While this pain relates to you, it is self inflicted. I realized what I did too late to fix it. A hole in the lifeboat, half sunk before I found a way to mend it.

You loved me, and I denied it. You cared for me and I took it for granted. You held my hand and pulled me away from the darkness while I squirmed free and ran into the arms of another who sat silently waiting for me to fall apart. The thing that kept me from making the decision that was you was the distance. You were so so far.. I chose something convenient, something close and tangible. I saw the distance as an obstacle that I could never overcome, so I put more distance between us, emotionally. I’m good at that, pushing people away. I didn’t think you’d notice, I definitely didn’t think others would. But they did.

Others have noticed the distance between us, the difference between us. You found her and I found alone. I found regret. I found heartbreak and betrayal. You grew into the space that I created and you made it home. You made it home for you and you changed the locks, it was space I created but space I am no longer allowed in. Take up space my love, any space any one allows, make it yours.

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The Taste of Honey

His skin is tanned from the long days in the sun, both on rooftops and riverbanks. His hands are calloused from the work he does, yet surprisingly gentle. Sun bleached hair, messy curls, and a smile that could brighten the darkest of days. There are many things about him that make falling easy, the only hesitation is if he’ll catch you. So much of me wonders what his kiss feels like, to have his strong hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him. To be tangled in the sheets, not in a lustful stupor but more of a loving caress. Somehow I imagine it just like the movies, sheets covering our bodies effortlessly. Draped on our skin like it was made to be there. He traces his fingertips over my ankle, stopping to trace my tattoos, continuing to run them up my leg. He is slow, gentle. He takes his time and is purposeful in where he lets his fingers wander. As he moves up my leg, he lifts it so that my ankle rests on his shoulder. Steady and careful moving down my thigh, touching my so gently you’d think I was made of glass. Keeping one hand wrapped around my ankle on his shoulder, the other moving slowly over my knee, edging toward my hip. He moves his body closer into mine, the sheets shifting around us as he makes his way to lay beside me. He brushes hair from my face and traces his fingers along my jaw line, letting his thumb rest on my lip. He lifts my head, but not towards his, as his lips are meeting my jaw line. He leaves a trail of sweet kisses down my neck, along my collar bone, in between my breasts. He lets his hand rest on my chest, just below my neck, his fingers tracing the path his lips left. He lets his other hand trace my arm down to the finger tips that lay waiting for him on my waist. He kisses my hips, another path created, leading down my hips, to my inner thigh. He looks up at me and smiles, I can only imagine how flustered I look. His smile holds a gentle promise of pleasure I’m not sure will be as gentle. 

He takes a gentle approach, letting his tongue tell me all of the things his lips warned me of. Taking his time, letting my body show him appreciation. My hands are searching for something to hold, one rests in his hair, the messy curls tangling with my fingers. He finds the other in his own. His palm against the back of my hand, he interlocks our fingers slightly, so they’re resting together. He guides my hand from resting on my stomach, up to wrap around my neck. I can’t think through the sensation of his hand on mine and his tongue’s caress. The hand that is not with mine is resting on my hip, his grip strong and purposeful. He does not stop, nor do I want him to. Colors begin to flood my body, blues and golds like a kaleidoscope of pleasure. He does not stop until the hand that’s tangled in his hair relaxes, to tired to maintain the hold of his curls. He follows the trail he left before, kissing back up my body, I ache for the feel of his next kiss, wherever it may land. He releases my hand and moves his so that it caresses the back of my neck, slightly tangled with my hair. He kisses me, deeply. As he pulls away I bite his lip, hoping he’ll come back and do it again. He does. The sheets around us pointless now, he lets his body complete the story his tongue began to tell. Hands retracing their steps, bodies intertwined. We come together as one, in pleasure and soaked by our sweat. 

It does not end there. My body is a magnet for his hands. His fingertips painting my skin with sweet lines that I will try to trace later to remember. Easing my hair out of my face, he traces my skin, a one line drawing over every piece that is exposed. The sheet has once again found it’s purpose, hiding what has already been seen, covering the secrets it was thrown aside to make. His lips gently kiss my ear, lingering there.. 

He kisses me and whispers in my ear how much he loves the taste of honey.

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A Million

I owe you a million things. Most of them apologies. You accept them with grace, I think it’s because you know I don’t apologize for anything I do and you know I’m humbled by just doing so. I owe you returned love that I couldn’t give because of my own mistakes. I owe you the kisses I never allowed, and the ones I never finished. I owe you the sensuality I teased you with and the climaxes I never followed through for you. I owe you apologies for pushing you away because you were far away. I owe you apologies for placing the blame on you because it was easier to live with myself that way. I faced something with you that I never thought would happen. I pushed you away instead of processing with you. I owe you apologies for letting you sit with me while my world crumbled, and proceeding to keep from you the one opportunity I led you toward.. Twice. 

I owe you explanations, not excuses, for the way I handled my mistakes. I owe you a connection we had, but in a world where it was appropriate. I owe you better timing. I owe you more honesty and more of my thoughts. I kept things hidden from your view, things you knew but things we’d never say. I got scared and I thought to much about the difficulties. I owe you an apology for stealing your chance, not stealing, revoking, never giving. I never gave you a chance when timing lined up. I was so caught up in my selfish want that I stopped communicating, stopped talking, stopped. I owe you more apologies than I can truly provide you. I know that these things cannot be given, let alone accepted, right now. Nor do I want to invade on your circumstance.

I owe you honesty. This is some form of that, and the absolute least I can give you. 

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For a Second

For a second I remembered what it was like to love you. Without the hatred and anger that run through my blood now.  I remembered what it was like to love you. To be sitting in your car with you and looking at you and being content with where the universe had placed me. I remembered how it felt to love you, the calm contentedness that flushed through my body. The sureness that you would be on the other end of the phone when I called. The oneness we shared before it all came crumbling around us and all that was left was our broken parts and lust and rage.

We never could have survived. You are fire, lust, passion, rage. I am water, strength, deepness, and unforgiving. I put out your flames and you hiss back at me like I could help it. But for a second. Just for a second, I remembered what it was like when we balanced each other out. I remembered what it was like to love you. 

I wish I didn’t.

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To the Core.

I knew that I was fucked when you left. I do not hold any attraction to anyone. At all. But I also realized that I used to measure each relationship by guessing when it would end. I probably ruined so many that way. But with you I dived in head first not even fucking blinking. I moved in with you and started thinking about future plans, but not like super far out. I adjusted my timeline because I realized it was a silly thing to hold on to. I became so comfortable and I stopped thinking about you leaving until just before you did. That’s how I know I’m fucked. You really changed so many pieces of my mind. So many lenses over the way I looked at the world. If you don’t end up loving me, I’ll be settling. If you don’t end up loving me, I will never know love again. And I can’t tell if I am okay with that. I love you to the fucking core and you walked away to heal. I’m just hoping you’ll walk right back so I can mend your scars. 

Edit: you are so much more than how you felt when you wrote this. You will not be settling, you’ll be growing and finding someone who truly deserves to love you. Whatever comes next it will be better.

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I Hope

I hope that you’re using your time wisely. As the weeks go on there are things I am slowly realizing. Things that I need to work on and reframe my mind around. This time was created for you. This time was created so that you could work on yourself and heal. I am working on giving you more time. More space. I am working on my connection becoming more distant.. for you. It hurts me. More than I could begin to explain. I am using this time as an opportunity to grow myself. Work on my traumas and my life and my things. But that means I expect the same to be going on for you. I fully expect you to be coming to realizations about yourself and what you need. I expect you to grow. That is what this time is for. I’ve realized that I have been clinging to you in the hopes you change your mind soon, and now I am backing off. I am giving you that space. I have realized that I am not at fault for you being unhappy. I could not help you be happy because that unhappiness came from somewhere deeper than I’ll ever have access to. Just because I could not help does not mean I was at fault. This is not my fault. Not to say it’s yours.. You just need time to process and work on yourself, and that is okay. You have so much time. As much as you need. But I will need you back at some point, as a friend, if nothing more. 

I am realizing that a lot of the pain I am feeling is because I feel abandoned, rather than simply distanced. It is something I am working on and working through. I just hope you’re recognizing where your hurt comes from. I hope you’re recognizing what hurts, why, and beginning to work towards healing. I hope you know that somethings can’t be healed. Somethings can simply be acknowledged and let be. I hope you know that regardless of what the causes, I am here to help you heal if the need for me arises. I will always be. You will always hold the largest piece of my heart and I will always be available to you, but right now we both need the distance. We both need to separate into ourselves and be individuals for now. Maybe we will come together and live this life as one. Maybe we will come together and be friends again. Either way, I’m working on being content with that. I want you around, just as you said you want me around. It just hurts right now. Distance is good for us. It hurts but it is good. I am reframing my mind in regards to the things it tells me about you. Like you not caring or wanting to make the effort. You’re pulling away for you. I was putting to much pressure on you. I’m sorry. I am working on it. I have acknowledged what needs to change and I am working on it. I promise. 

I hope you see that.

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Missing

I am missing you terribly today. Missing your arms holding me. Missing you setting yourself in a position so I could lay peacefully in your lap. Missing sleeping with you, feeling you reach for me and holding me so tight. Missing your morning kisses goodbye for work. Missing breakfast for dinner with you. Missing summer drives to nowhere with you. Missing your smile. Missing how your voice sounds in the morning. Missing you say my name, especially after an I love you. Missing my hand in yours. Missing all of you. Missing every single piece of you. Missing you opening my doors. Missing you making fun of me and pushing me around. Missing playing games with you. Missing watching our shows. Missing moving in and how happy we were. Missing... Missing.. Missing. 

You are missing from me and it shows. 

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Earth Meeting Water

This is a story about how an earth sign and water sign met.

When water meets earth it starts slowly and yet suddenly. A wave crashing against the cliffside but also slowly crawling up the sand. We were somewhere in between. The movement of the water started to brush up against the solitary earth. The earth soaked it in and grounded the waters uncontrollable movement. We never think we can tame the waves but bring water into our homes and use it to nourish our souls. We never think that the earth reacts but landslides and wilderness are unmatched. Fired and water are opposites, as with earth and air. Air feeds fire, and water feeds earth. They hold a balance that no other force of nature could grasp on to and yet, the waves still push and pull against the earth. The earth stands still and takes it, crumbling under the pressure but staying strong within. You see, earth cannot exist without water. And water cannot avoid the earth. But that wasn't the case here, there was something different at play. They learn to coexist. The Islands have their beaches, but they also have their mountains. The oceans have their vastness, but deep down there’s still sand. How does the earth feel when the waves retract into themselves and become smaller, not touching the parts they once did? Does the sand still long for the trickle that comes? Do the cliffs still long for the crash? 

Each has their own destruction... sometimes they overlap. Earth has landslides and sink holes. Water has waves too tall for anyone to tread. But what about the landslides that fall into the waters? Or the tsunamis destroying lands? There’s a spark here that many think is destruction but ends up being a beautiful result. Sometimes things need to separate to come together. Lava falling into the bay, creating a whole new Island for the earth and water to meet, a whole new shore to appreciate and share, a new place to become one. 

Maybe this is our lava. You see earth forms mountains, volcanos, high above the waters reach. And water creates whirlpools and distance into itself. This is what we must do to form the new shore. It takes time, growth, and energy on both parts. But nature proves conviction when the cycle repeats itself. The water must retract from the shore and deepen within itself, while earth forms its mountains high above, drawing more strength. We must learn and we must grow. At some point the spark will ignite and earth will reach for the shore where water will patiently be waiting to create anew. It is the way the universe works. 

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Born of Trauma

My entire life has been one trauma after trauma after trauma. And so coincidentally I watched a video of someone saying that people who have experienced trauma try so hard to be the person they were before it happened. But what if there was never a before.. what if I don’t know who I am without the trauma. I grew up raised in it. I was basically baptized in it. How am I supposed to know who I am without it? How am I supposed to be someone I was before if before is not even an option? Who am I supposed to be? All I have ever known is trauma, emotional manipulation. How in the hell am I supposed to know who I am after my traumas.. 

Someone please help.. 

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Remembering

I am trying to remember my grandparent’s old house. These are my first holidays without grandparents and I have memories coming to the surface of the days and nights and holidays spent in that house. I want to somehow recount these memories before they escape me again. 

The house is made of stone, tan stone with white trimmed windows. The large yard is partially fenced in with a huge evergreen tree in the front at the corner of the house. There are two horses in the yard, one in the front by the sidewalk leading to the porch that were hardly ever used, and one beside the porch to the left of the door. The porch makes the house in an L shape, but the side of the small piece is the garage. There is a small metal door, we had no idea its intended use but we used it for play. It latches and unlatches with a little box inside and a door on the inside of the garage as well. I don’t remember the garage very well. It had 2 inside doors aside from the actual one for a car. There is a fridge that was meant for drinks and ice cream only beside one, the one leads to what used to be an extra lounge room but in time became grandpa’s pool room. And the other leads to the kitchen. Walk in the front door and there is a tiny coat closet with all of our board games and a magic light that turns off once the door latches. I never figured out how exactly the mechanism worked. In front of the entry way to the right is the dining room with a grand shelf set and a gorgeous dining room table. To the left is the living room, its changed several times. I think my favorite was the red couch. There has always been one constant, grandpa’s recliner. Most of what I remember of the living room is during Christmas time. The tree covering up one entrance of the hallway, the TV in the corner of the room, against where the closet is but on the other side of the wall. A couch underneath the window beside the TV, another couch under the window on the wall beside the first and grandpa’s chair directly opposite the TV. The couches moved and altered depending on what furniture my grandma had in the house at the time, felt like they had new furniture all the time. The Hallway, if you could really call it that, had 3 doorways. The one on the left went to my grandparents bedroom. They had such a big bed, a table for each side, and a huge dresser against the wall with the door. It covered the whole wall and had a mirror just as big on top of it. The wall opposite the bed had a closet, it mostly had my grandpas dress shirts and ties and nice clothes for church on Sundays. The middle door was the bathroom. the right side was about half cabinets with a counter in between the top and bottom sets, the farthest cabinet to the left was a fancy half open that was used as a hamper. The other half of the wall was the shower, it had one of those terrible opaque sliding doors, but was also a tub so it didn’t go all the way down to the floor. Opposite the shower was the toilet in the corner of the bathroom, and next to it was a half wall that connected the sink. The sink had a mirror above it, just like a normal bathroom sink would. Right next to this was more upper and lower cabinets, no counter in between these though. The last door was the Den. It was really just Grandma and Grandpa’s office. There was a book shelf on the left wall right when you walk in, grandpa’s desk was the first one you saw, facing the wall with the bookshelf. He had all kinds of stuff back there. Grandma’s desk sat in the back alcove area of the office facing grandpas. It had one big filing cabinet behind it and a bookshelf. We always hid underneath grandma’s desk. The Hallway had two openings right next to each other, one leading into the living room and one in the dining room. The dining room was almost directly connected to the kitchen. There was a bar with chairs that us kids usually occupied. and of course the large table and shelf area. There was a doorway for the spare bedroom connected to the kitchen and on the right side of the doorway there was a cabinet and counter. It was super small, literally just the width of one standard size cabinet. It was the snack area. If there was a snack to be found it was in those two cabinets. It was the only place in the house with a sweets drawer. Connected to this cabinet was the fridge. There was another door that led to the smaller bathroom on the other side of the fridge. Then there was the garage door and beside that door there was cabinets above and below and right in the middle was the oven. Cabinets wrapped all the way around the kitchen area except the above the sink. The stove top was right next to the oven, and the counter wrapped in a U shape the sink was next, with the dishwasher to the left, Lazy Susan cabinet to the right. The cabinets above the bar held cereal and our pretty metal cups. The bar lowered slightly to allow for a counter area that we sat at. The extra bed room changed a couple of times. The most vivid memories I have were when there were two beds. One was blue and one was orange. There was a table in the middle of the two, and glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, it helped with the fear of being left alone in the dark. Connected to the spare bedroom was a smaller bathroom, decked out in orange and bright pinks. It small, just big enough for a toilet and a sink with a mirror right above it. The shower was connected to the spare bedroom and Grandpa’s pool room. Grandpa’s pool room was also the laundry room. There was a sink, the washer, and the dryer that were all on the wall to the right, with the door to the garage. Grandpa’s pool table dead center taking up a large portion of the room. A little alcove area to the left, it had the hot water heater or whatever it was but there was a shelf above it. It held a lot of different things but the one thing I remember was an old timey phone. On the back wall of the room on the left was the door to the outside. The part of the yard that was fenced in was big, a big tree in the back yard with a tire swing that looked like a horse. Sometimes, during the summers, there would be a pool set up and the sprinkler of course. There was a huge propane tank in between the house and the church. I don’t remember much of the church, just that I spent a lot of time there before I stopped going all together. 

I miss Sunday’s at my grandparents house. I miss my grandparents...

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An Open Letter to the Girl I was 5 Years Ago

There are so many things you need to know in this life. Being 16 sucks, I know it does, and knowing what you went through when you were sixteen is still branded in the back of my mind. You didn’t deserve that my dear. You deserve to be believed and cared for. 

You don’t have to give your body to be loved, but don’t let it stop you from giving it for your own pleasure. Slow down a little. Not everything is how your mind pictures it. That senior year back seat hookup is not worth the trouble you go through for it and that junior prom date isn’t worth any of your time. You are a sweet sweet girl, don’t let this world ruin you before you have the chance to conquer it. The boys you surround yourself with will only hurt you in the future, all of them. Every one.

You still have a lot of lessons to learn before you’re ready, and stop panicking so much about such small things. Don’t grow cold, you hurt so many people by icing them out. Some of them deserve it, but you can be so much kinder. The world needs a little more kindness darling, be that. There is so much betrayal that you blindly walk through, this is unavoidable and I am so sorry. But you can’t always internalize your pain. Shutting people out and avoiding any kind of reconciliation with your problems is no way to handle things, I’m still working on this. 

There are so many people you think you love, you think you can fix, you think you can trust. Take it all back. All of it. Don’t trust anyone else’s moves. Life is like chess mixed with poker, people are playing moves ahead of you and much better at bluffing. It’s okay though, you have to learn to play too, just by your own rules. You deserve much more than you allow yourself to have. 

Some things to keep in mind: Not everyone who says they love you actually does, don’t be stupid and ignore the red flags, leave when you aren’t feeling appreciated, and most importantly, set your boundaries and stick to them fiercely. You are worth so much more ... so much more. 

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Sharing Secrets

I don’t talk about my problems a lot. I try not to share my childhood trauma because I don’t want to traumatize anyone else with what I have been through, I mean hell I spent my life keeping people from it. But he asked and I know he cares. So last night over facetime I told Daniel all of my trauma. I told him what my mother did, what I had to deal with, everything that I could remember I went through. I told him the things that got brought back up due to my brothers inconsiderate decisions, the things I’ve missed. I spilled feelings I didn’t even know I felt. 

And it felt so good. So good to have someone listen, to have someone genuinely care. He cried for me. He reassured me that I didn’t deserve it, that I was so strong for surviving it. I don’t feel strong, I just feel angry. Looking back it kind of seemed silly that I called some of these things traumatic, but he made me feel so validated. 

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Unwilling Apology

I took a refresher course last night at 3 am. Refresher on what you ask? Oh, just yet another ruined friendship. You see, I am trying to process through some things so I can be better connected to my spirituality. And one of the many things holding me back is also something that has been weighing heavy on my heart lately. I am used to pushing people away, not so used to the push back. It caused me to react in a very rash way that allowed the push back to give in..Hurting more than just myself in the process this time. I am fantastic at acting unaffected by the things that destroy me. Like having too much time to myself. Like losing someone who’s done nothing but support me and give me attention all because of some selfish acts. I avoided processing through my mistakes and instead pushed someone else away. I read through it and I made a lot of mistakes, and I am too proud to truly apologize on a forum you’d see. Because after all, I am always right and I made a decision that I will stick by. But that doesn’t mean you deserved the toxicity I poisoned you with. But I can’t apologize for that without trying to erase everything. I led you on, I led you to believe that I was strong and that I wanted you. To be fair, I did. But its kind of like the forbidden fruit idea. I wanted you because I couldn’t have you. I couldn’t have you when I wanted you because you paid no attention to me. Then I couldn’t have you because I had committed myself to someone who I thought that I loved. And you gave me that stupid fucking ultimatum. I considered it. I ended it for 22 hours, but I could not stand being alone, being without him in that moment, and I knew you would still be there. I refuted your claims of being in love with me, I still do. And this feels familiar but backwards and I know exactly who you remind me of. You’re stronger than her though. Strong enough to get away instead of continuing to sip the arsenic and pretending its a happy home. It’s my fault. I won’t accept full responsibility because it does take two to tango and you’ve been toxic as well but I do apologize for my part in it. The last thing I wanted to do was enable your self destruction. Anyway, I am sorry. Not that it means anything here. 

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Falling in Love

I fall in love easily. With everything, everyone. I love the way the moon exists, stealing light from the sun to glow on our evenings, waxing and waning but always there. I love the way the waves crash on shores and gently brush the sand, dirt, and mud when doing so. I love watching peoples lips move to speak and sing, listening to their voices and the millions of things they have to say. I love peoples minds, grasping concepts that slip from their lips. Intelligence is so attractive. I love music and the multitude of things it makes you feel, the movement that flows through you, the unique vibrations for each song. I fall in love with people, their eyes, each completely unique like a finger print, the way that they hold themselves, their voices, their smiles, and the melody of their laughs. I fall in love with so many things constantly. I fall in love with so many people constantly. But there is a taboo around telling people things like this. Love means so much to some people, and it means so much to me but so much that I love things and people unapologetically.  

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A Comprehensive List of Words that Broke Me:

“You’re just not as tangible as she is.”

“I’m going to sign them.”

“It was only a kiss, Mel.”

“I just think I need to be alone.” He was with her not even a week later.

“How did you even find out?”

“I’m sorry, I know how it feels when someone doesn’t love you in the same way you say it.”

“You really wore that? It’s so slutty.”

“I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“I’m sorry? Is that what you want?”

“You only have friends because you flirt with everyone.”

“I don’t know that I actually loved you.”

“You don’t even know her, how can you tell me not to?”

“Just give her another chance.”

“You really shouldn’t talk about her like that, she gave you life.”

“Oh, you thought I was serious?”

“I swear to you she’s lying.”

“Why don’t you just do what you’re good at and go to the computer lab.”

“We know you’re lying. He told us what happened.”

“I never realized I never said I was proud of you.”

“It didn’t mean anything when I said it to her, you’re different”

“She kissed me, but she was drunk.”

“You’re just not worth it.”

“You’re just a selfish girl. Replaceable.”

Can I write in silence because someone never spoke to me again?

“I take it back.”

“I don’t trust you..”

“I can’t always come save you. Talk yourself down. It’s one am.”

“You’re such a shitty friend.”

“i’m just tired... of you.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone about that.”

“If that’s the only way you can get a boyfriend you may want to rethink your life.”

“I don’t miss you as much as I thought I would.”

“I’m just not happy.”

“I don’t know what I need.”

“I have no bad blood with you.”

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The Way We Move Together

We move well together. In many ways. When our bodies connect intimately. When we’re dancing to the music. When we laugh. When our lips touch and our tongues are seeking each other. We speak with a completely different language with the way we move. Our vibes are in sync and it feels so good. We communicate so thoroughly and easily. Nothing is secret, nothing needs to be. I have never moved so well with someone. It just works, it’s easy. It’s like when you’re listening to a song that is so good you just can’t help but move? Your body just knows exactly what to do, exactly how to move with the music. 

We move well together.