You felt right.

Lately I’ve been waking up with puffy eyes and a headache. I make it through the day just fine but it seems like when I get home the weight of life just comes crashing down. Working full-time, making it to the gym (my therapy) 5 days a week and getting my coursework done is difficult in itself. Add a heartbreak on top of that and I suppose it’s easy to see why life feels so heavy lately. It reminds me of this song by K Flay that I’ve been listening to a lot lately, “You felt right to me.”

I hadn’t had a good thing in a long time
Moving in the fast lane with the wrong guy
I don’t really know why
But you felt right to me

I guess I am just left wondering why the universe felt the need to bring Greg* into my life. When it was just going to end the way it did. So abruptly and without good reason. I suppose further down the line I might find out what lesson I needed to learn from it all but right now it just seems pointless. I didn’t need another heartbreak. Perhaps this was supposed to show me how terrible I am at protecting my heart and that I need to stop recklessly letting people into it before I truly know them. I know there are shit people out in the world, I have met many of them, I certainly didn’t need to meet another, especially of the male gender.

As each day goes on I feel better. Perhaps tonight I won’t feel like listening to sad songs and crying. Maybe I’ll feel stronger tonight. I am taking the rest of the week off from the gym. I’m not ready to see him BUT, that’s my gym and I WILL be back on Saturday. I will just focus on yoga and meditation this week. Deload.

What’s another scar.

Is being alone for the rest of my life the worst thing? Should I stress about it? I shouldn’t, truly. But I do. Throughout the years I’ve had small tastes of compassion and love. I’ve been held, but never for a long time. Never long enough. I’ve been kissed and finally felt butterflies after years of them being absent. And these small tastes have left me wanting more…so much more. What is a life without these things? Without someone to wake up next to. Without someone to share everything with, including myself. What is life without hugs and passion, and cuddles and the warmth of another’s hand in yours?

I didn’t beg him to stay in my life. I didn’t have to. He wanted me in his still, so that he wouldn’t be the bad guy. The bad guy for taking advantage of my kindness. You see, he didn’t see himself in a healthy way. And the way others saw him was more important to him than the way he saw himself. And so he would strive not to be the bad guy. Unfortunately for him I know my worth. Never will I allow a man to string me along to feel better about himself. To boost his confidence. I know what I want. I know what I’m worth. You either want me and put in the effort, or you don’t. It’s simple.

That still doesn’t mean my hearts not broken. It doesn’t mean that I don’t randomly stop what I’m doing sometimes and think back to a painful memory of what it felt like to be held by him. How it felt to hold his hand, or that first kiss. Or the 100th kiss. Laying in bed laughing together and feeling like I’d never want to be anywhere else. And I sigh, and I move on and with each time this happens I feel further and further away from it.

But it still hurts. It’s still painful. But what’s another scar on my heart? Smaller than the others but visible all the same.

Over.

I did it. I said my peace. I sent a text and told him how I felt. All the feelings I’d been keeping inside for fear of sounding crazy. And I told him, you’re going to think I am crazy, but I am not. I am just someone with a very large heart that I am terrible at protecting. I am a kind person and I am actively working on protecting myself better. I told him it is NOT okay to use people. And quite frankly I feel very used. He got what he wanted out of me physically and then dropped me like I was nothing…stopped trying. I told him I wish the best for any women in the future that fall prey to his charm and his words, but actions speak so much louder than words. He lead me on, made me believe he wanted to make a spot in his life for me.

And after I sent it I blocked him. And he cannot contact me. And if I see him at the gym we both frequent I will just have to take it as it comes. No communication. I must move on.

And I am broken and sad but also feeling stronger than I’ve felt in a while. It’s so difficult to overcome being used. So disappointing when you believe the smooth words of a man that makes promises and says sweet nothings that turn out to be just that.

Time heals, thankfully. No longer will I fall so quickly. The nights we spent together were memorable. I don’t know how a man can hold a woman so fiercely, so passionately. Can laugh with a woman so fully and connect with her so deeply, and then just change his mind. How is it so simple to hold hands and cuddle, to laugh and to love and to enjoy the connection…and then just stop. How simple it is for some and how difficult it is for the unfortunate victim.

Red wine and cigarettes.

It’s been a long time since I had the urge to buy a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes. Little reminders of my old life…nostalgic in nature. But tonight I welcome the darkness. It is better than the constant over thinking. The constant anxiety. When will it be my turn? If I could turn back time I’d go back a month. Go back to before I met him. Before something in my heart drew me to him. I’d go back and erase the memories. The passionate sex. The smell of him that still lingers in my senses even though I haven’t felt his body in days.

I did nothing wrong. I simply hoped and dreamed that perhaps this was my time. Perhaps this beautiful and amazing man would be the one I could spend many tomorrow’s with. I thought…I hoped…I wanted. And now here I am, drowning my overactive and pathetic mind in the throws of alcohol. Sitting at my laptop on a Friday night, alone, drinking wine from a dollar store glass.

My heart loves too easily. It has too much to give. And I finally thought I found someone worthy of this love. This compassion. This KINDNESS inside of me. But he knew from the beginning. I know he did. To fill my mind with lies and hopes. To keep me going. Each word said to me is like a piece of bait, reeling me in but stopping right before the catch.

I’m supposed to be the main character in my life. I need to make that happen.

Alone and slightly lonely.

Where do I go from here? At such a rapid pace I went from being alone and slightly lonely, to confused and extremely lonely. And the fact that I’m more lonely with you in my life should be a sign. A sign that I should move on, but that’s easier said than done. I am not begging you to stay in my life, in fact it was almost the other way around. But are you keeping me on a string that’s tied to your pocket? One you could so easily cut when you’ve no use for me anymore?

You once told me we would go far. That you’d never jump ship. I believed you. And you haven’t. No, you only just sat on the bow and kept one foot inside.

Let’s try this your way. Let’s take this slow.

I hope my reckless heart can match your pace.

Thanks for the inspiration.

I feel inspired when the fire in my heart is burning it’s brightest. When emotions and feelings of love or hate or sadness or despair are coursing through my veins. Sometimes I feel numb to the world, as if walking through it as a zombie instead of a woman. At times I feel completely uninspired, but lately, thanks to you, I’ve felt extremely inspired. The roller coaster of emotions I’ve felt over the last month have allowed me to perfect the art of spilling these emotions out onto the page in front of me.

One of the most difficult things in life is to express feelings as words.

My inspiration has lead me to the realization that I must move on. I refuse to sit on the back burner. If you had fallen for me the way I did for you then you’d have never let me go. And you should have let me go completely, not asked me to wait patiently on the back burner while we built a “friendship” and let time do the rest. Perhaps I’m being unreasonable. But taking things slow isn’t in my DNA. I am a reckless romantic with a slight tinge of masochism. Because life is just too short not to grasp every piece of happiness and potential life throws my way. So you’re being kept at a distance. And that little spot in my heart for you I so thoughtfully reserved will most likely shrink in time. You’ll become a part of my past I look back on with apathy, hopefully…eventually.

Thanks for making me feel something again. I was starting to worry I was broken in that regard.

To the man who will never read this.

To the man who will never read this:

I would like to tell you something. It’s straight from my scarred, romantic heart. When first we met, I wasn’t sure what to think about you. I eyed you up and down, wary of you. I found it attractive the way you carried yourself. You stood tall and lumbering, but not in an aggressive way. I was not intimidated as much as I was intrigued. I will admit I didn’t find you as attractive as I do now. But from the first date we went on, I began to fall in love with your mind. I began to fall in love with your in depth answers to life’s most interesting questions. I began to fall in love with the stories you’d tell, and how animated they made you. The way your left lip moved a little higher when you spoke, and the way your eyes seemed to see so much more of me than anyone else’s when you’d look at me.

I fell in love with the softness of your hands, even though they were used for hard work and calloused.

I fell in love with your body. It is carved into a masterpiece from life and dedication. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, you’re beautiful. I have fallen for the man I know now. And although I don’t know everything about you, nor will I ever, I just wanted you to hear this. Even though you’ll never read this.

I’ve fallen head over heels for you. And for now I believe keeping you with me fondly but at a distance is what’s best.

I hope I get to keep loving you, beautiful man.

Tortured.

I often wonder if there is a place in this world for my heart. For the longest time I can remember feeling that dull ache in it. Like a small weight had been placed upon it and refused to move. They say the best writers are those with a tortured soul. That is how my soul feels…tortured, used, defeated.

And yet, I still persevere. I still hope and dream that one day, I will meet a soul like mine. One that is reckless and beautiful. One that abandons all doubt and jumps in head first because life is beautiful and mysterious. And there must be a place in this world for my affection. I don’t just want any warm body next to mine. I want one that I am attached to by invisible strings of love and electricity. I want to feel someone with every part of my being, and perhaps one day the weight on my heart will lifted and my soul will no longer feel the burden of the world.

Wisdom.

When I was young heartbreak felt so…permanent. A dull ache in my chest that I never thought would go away. But time and time again I was proven wrong. Heartbreak isn’t permanent, it goes away, dissipates with time. Unfortunately that doesn’t make it any simpler or ease the pain any more when it happens. That dull ache is still there, that pit in your stomach still making itself at home. Killing your appetite, your drive, and nearly bringing you to tears while living your life. With the gained wisdom to know that this too shall pass, we are forced to live in a type of prison cell of disappointment and sadness, until one day a key is thrown in and we are allowed out.

I saw nothing but tomorrows with him. Felt nothing but electricity and love when we were together. To have that ripped away from me was like stealing exactly what life is worth living for. I was falling in love with you.

Fuck. You.

A story.

I’d like to tell you a story. A story about a girl who is currently wrapped in a soft peach colored blanket, curled on her bed writing this, to you. I write this in hopes that reading it will perhaps make you understand yourself better, or better yet, would help you understand life a little better.

This girl I want to tell you about cries sometimes. And when she cries it’s like the flood gates to every emotion in the human brain opens and pours freely. And if the movies were real, the pain behind these tears that fall would move mountains and shake the earth. But instead, these massive feelings and emotions that overtake this girl at times are transformed into small beads of salty water that fall freely down from the soft, beautiful cheeks of this girl.

And sometimes there are tissues strewn about, damp and wilted from the tears. And throwing them away after these crying sessions tends to serve as a cleansing of sorts. Out with the old, in with the new. At other times, the tears are too much and so this girl pours a large glass of wine to help ease the pain that the weight of the world causes her weary shoulders. Her weary heart.

And I want to be honest about this story. I want to tell you that sometimes this girl wishes she could turn it all off. She’s thought about certain options that aren’t legal, or healthy. She’s thought deep dark thoughts that she wouldn’t share with anyone. Yes, I’d like to be very honest when I say that this girl has thought about life without herself. A quick moment of impulse carried out with careful regard. But this girl hasn’t, and most likely wouldn’t, even though sometimes life seems so blatantly unfair she wishes she couldn’t feel, or be anymore.

But instead she buries herself in her blankets, or a man, or something else. And she rides out the emotions like a soldier in a war against themselves. And she could scream, if it weren’t frowned upon but she doesn’t for fear of society. And she could punch walls or throws things off her balcony, but she doesn’t because then she’d be crazy. She could ask all the difficult questions and question everything, but then she’d be known as something other than a polite young lady.

And finally, i’d like to say, that a long time ago, years ago, there was a fire in her heart that never went out. A strength that never dwindled until years of disappointment and let downs, of heartbreaks and betrayals, lead her to where she is now. Sitting in her room, wrapped in a soft peach colored blanket, tissues surrounding her, as she writes her heart out onto a computer screen and drinks a glass of her favorite red wine.

And she waits on a call from a man, because he said he’d call so she waits. And perhaps this time when she answers she will ask all the difficult questions. And that fire in her heart will ignite again, and she will realize that she deserves nothing but the best and if she can’t get the best from a man, she can get the best from herself.

Or, he may not call. Because people don’t do many things they say they’ll do and nothing surprises this girl anymore.