Sometimes I cry because of the possibilities. The wasted ones. The ones that could have been. Soft, quiet tears that gently roll down my cheek to a new destination where they’ll soak in, disappear, never happened. Yes, occasionally I cry for what could have been. For the what if’s. For the cancelled plans and the let downs.

It’s a cleansing cry. The salty drops of warm water help to cleanse my soul and they water the seeds that will blossom into new flowers of hope.

I could never have you.

I knew I could never have you. You were like a fresh, sweet carrot dangled in front of my eyes. They grew wide with want and need. And I did get you. A small part of you. But I knew I could never truly have you. That’s why I stood in the doorway of your bedroom watching you sleep. Why I knew it was goodbye before we even said hello. Still, something inside of me continued to echo, “what if?”. What if I’ve found something I never thought I could have? A beautiful man with perfect teeth and the body of an Adonis. But just like most what if’s I ended up heart broken.

I knew I could never have you from the moment you looked at me with your fake smile that didn’t seem to reach your eyes completely. The moment you kissed me and it didn’t feel like forever, it felt like a right now.

Damn my heart, for all it’s what if’s.

A drug.

I got a taste of something I hadn’t realized I was missing. My touch-craved skin took a hit of a drug that was almost impossible to give up. It craved more, lusting for the soft fingertips of a beautiful man to make their was from point A to point B. And too soon this drug was ripped from my life and I was left to withdraw… alone. And since I lost this thing I never knew I was missing, each breath has felt like it lost half it’s meaning, its purpose. My skin craves touch again, not just from anyone. From him. Because his touch was one that ignited little sparks of electricity down my spine and calmed the nerves inside my mind.

I will just have to crave his touch until I don’t anymore.


Why do I give him so much power? Even now, so many weeks past everything he is on my mind more than he should be. I think about the nice things he said to me. One in particular:

“I saw a girl at the gym today. She looked like you from the back so I got excited. Then she turned around and…well let’s just say she wishes she had your face.”

And I remember the time I saw him walk out of the men’s restroom and I was so happy to see him and I waved and he came over to me and we talked and he held his hand out and I took it and it was something special. That connection we had. Then he called me his friend to another person at the gym. And that hit hard. I still do wonder if it’s customary in his life to kiss all of his friends. To touch them the way he touched me.

I’m getting off track. I realized today I was giving him so much power. So much power over my thoughts and emotions. I keep replaying memories. Wondering if it was something I did wrong. But it wasn’t. And I KNOW this. I just have to believe it. I will meditate tonight. I was visualize me taking the power back.

He really isn’t shit…you know? Just an insecure man that met me at a vulnerable time in my life where I was lacking love and affection and wanted it so badly I could scream. So upon finding it I held on, too tight, and I was brought to my knees by disappointment. I said my peace, and now I must take my power and move. the. fuck. on.


I’m too much.

My entire life I’ve been “too much”. I’m too passionate, I care too much, I feel too much. I’m crazy, or insane.

I’ve fought the war against my empathy for so long, I’m exhausted. So I am learning to accept it. To embrace it and cherish it…for at least I can feel. There are many who cannot. And the feelings of love and care and joy that have come into my life are unforgettable and I am forever grateful for them. But when times are difficult, they truly are. My body can be racked with a sadness so thick and powerful it feels like the earth stands still. A crippling depression that leaves me wondering if I want to be a part of this world anymore. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that someday, I will be able to be happy for a long time. When I quit fighting my emotions and the way I am.

I love deeply and passionately. I care deeply and with my entire being. I cry when I see others cry, I glow when I see beautiful things. I appreciate kindness and like minded souls more than anyone would ever know. As K. Flay would say, beauty has a way of crushing me.

Sometimes I do wish there was a way to turn it all off. The sadness, the happiness, the overthinking and anxiety. But just for a little while. What was once my curse needs to become my full-time blessing.

No one wants to be alone. Everyone deserves to feel the type of love they’d move mountains for. The type of connection that makes life worth living. The trust in another human that magically makes you feel like a different person yourself. I want that. And I can’t lose hope that someday, somewhere, I will meet a man who doesn’t tell me I’m “too much.” I am just enough and a little more.

Someday soon.

I’ve been feeling so strong lately. I no longer feel disappointment when I think of him. I just don’t really feel anything. Apathy. I was hoping this would happen. What helps is that I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. He seems to be staying away from the gym we both frequent, which has been truly great. When I was younger I’d be dumb enough to, deep down, want to see him. But where I’m at in my life right now I could never see him again for the rest of my life and I’d be completely fine with that.

But that’s not how life works. I’m sure he’s lying low right now, letting things calm down. Maybe he thinks I’ll make a scene if I ever see him at the gym. Just goes to show how little he knows about me. That gym is my safe place. It’s my therapy room. It’s where I go to feel powerful and strong and healthy. I love the patrons, the sweat and the hard work. I’d never cause a scene. I am already upset with myself that I let Greg* into my life and it tainted the gym in a way. I know I will see him. And when I do, my heart will skip a beat. My stomach will drop. But as quickly as that happens, I’ll get it together and just keep on keeping on. Deep down though, all the feelings, the memories, the love I felt…will come back. Rushing over the walls of the dam I built to keep it all down.

And the 10 steps forward I’ve taken will be downgraded to 5. But it’s okay. This is a part of life. And we live so close to one another it’s inevitable.

He is the epitome of what could have been. What I wanted it to be. A true love. Someone I could finally and truly love and care for. I wanted endless nights of cuddles and kisses and sex. I wanted to wake up to him in the morning. I wanted to feel his smooth skin beneath my hands whenever I want. I wanted to smell him each day and have it feel like home. I wanted…so badly to be loved. and to love.

And I’m a broken soul right now. But it’s healing.

My soul is broken.

My soul is broken
I’m not sure what to do about it
Should I carry it in both hands and show it to the world?
Or should I leave it somewhere, quiet and dark
Let it heal in peace and solitude
That’s the biggest question of them all
How do you heal a broken soul?
Cigarettes and alcohol?
Muscle relaxers and sad songs?
I suppose it’s best to try them all so we can decide which one works best.
Perhaps I will try smiling at myself in the mirror.
Telling myself I’m beautiful.
Hugging myself
Loving myself.
My soul is broken.
But it’s healing.

I wonder if I’m ugly.

I don’t know what I want. The story of my life. At this point do I want to date? And if I do, what for? What’s the end game? Is there one? So many questions. Be still my overactive mind. Maybe I want something casual. A friends with benefits. But I don’t know if I can do that anymore. The way it felt with Greg* was so different than with a casual fling. Having that emotional chemistry as well as the sexual chemistry is a different kind of sex. Connecting with someone on that level is something completely out of this world. And I miss that. I don’t miss him, but I do miss the way I felt with him. Wanted. Needed. Desired. I’d love to find that again, and I am sure I will someday…but I guess I must wait, be patient.

I wonder if I’m ever on his mind. I know he thinks I’m crazy, I can’t blame him, but I hope one day he thinks of me fondly and realizes who I was. What he knew of me.

I wonder sometimes if I am ugly. And I know I’m not, but sometimes I wonder. I see men that I find extremely attractive but talk myself out of talking to them or smiling at them because I think maybe I am not in their “league” as people say. I am short and small. But thick and curvy. I lift heavy weights and run intervals on the treadmill. And I’ve lost 35 pounds since the beginning of the year and my clothes don’t fit anymore so I had to buy new ones and now those aren’t fitting quite right either. I am still stuck in the mentally of the fat girl that let herself go, when I am now the fit girl that should be confident in her beauty and hard work. But it’s a work in progress. I wish men had a sign on their forehead whether they’ll break my heart. It’s a risk worth taking I supposed, but I don’t how if I can make it through another one.

To Him.

I was once told by a therapist when I was younger that it was therapeutic to write a letter to someone who has hurt you, even though you’ll never give it to them. I was at said therapist because I’d just gone through a terrible break-up with someone that was extremely toxic and emotionally abusive. I wrote the letter and it felt amazing. It offered me a sense of closure, even though I knew he’d never read it. So I thought I’d do this now. And what better place than on here. You may find it boring, and I don’t expect you to read the entire thing, but perhaps it might help you understand feelings of your own. Or make you feel validated in feeling the way you have or do about someone in your life.

To him:

The day we met was a strange day for me. I was so used to putting my headphones on in the gym, turning my music up and speaking to no one. So when you came up to me and asked me if you could “work in” on the leg press I was taken aback. I thought “Why is this guy asking to work in with me? He can lift twice the weight as me.” My female brain put 2 and 2 together and realized you were most likely finding a reason to introduce yourself to me, even though you’d never admit it. So we worked in together. I felt a bit awkward and strange as I tend to in daily life. I did notice how strong and muscular your legs were. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t extremely attracted to you. The way you walked through the gym like a peacock, shaking everyone’s hand, saying hello. Were you just friendly? Or insecure? I was amused, and also intrigued. I have a type…and you fit the bill. From the day we met and you proceeded to follow me around the gym to all the leg equipment, I found myself looking for you. I’d occasionally see you and we’d chat, but it was never anything more than that because I’d cut it short. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. It was about 3 weeks into us meeting that we stood by the free weights and the conversation flowed. For 45 minutes we chatted and connected and you finally asked for my number. You were no longer the unattractive guy at the gym with the rocking body, I was starting to notice small details about you that I was growing to like and your mind was fascinating to me. I appreciated your straight white teeth and greenish/blue eyes. The way you carried yourself I found particularly attractive. You asked when it would be a good time to call me, which I thought was strange as in this day and age people typically just text. I said anytime after 5 on the weekdays and weekends I was open. It was about 2 days later on a Thursday night I noticed a missed call on my phone. I googled the number and saw your name and called it back. This would be the first of many times we’d talk on the phone for over an hour and I’d hang up feeling like a high school girl with butterflies again. I never thought I’d feel that way again, but there it was. The next night we went out on a date. You took me to a beautiful restaurant I’d always wanted to try. We had dinner and shared conversation. It was amazing to have an intellectual conversation with someone. It was something I’d been missing for a very long time. I especially loved it when you’d smile at me after I said something. After that we went for a walk in the park and you held my hand. We talked, that’s what we did. The conversation never went stale between you and I. We decided we’d go back to your house right up the street so you could give me a tour. It was in an amazing neighborhood I loved. This was where I should have stopped. You see, it was here that I got my tour and then the beginning of the end began. As soon as you asked if you could kiss me there was no going back. “I feel a lot of chemistry, can I please kiss you?” Sure, I’d say. I would like that. And I did. It was like the first kiss I ever had. Surprising and pleasant and everything I’d hoped it would be. And we kissed more and more and you asked me, “Please stay with me tonight, Angel.” And I said I really like you and hope moving too fast won’t change anything. And you assured me it most certainly would not. So like a naive young girl would do, I stayed with you. And we made love. And it was passionate and amazing. And we did it again, and again that night. And I couldn’t sleep afterwards because you were snoring so very gently and it was so very quiet in your house. So I moved into the living room and slept on the couch.

And in the morning I woke up and asked if it would keep you awake if I watched your television. And you grabbed me and held me and asked me to just lay in your bed with you. And I did. And we cuddled and talked and you kissed my forehead and played with my hair and I never wanted it to end. I never wanted to stop feeling the warmth of your body next to mine and under my hands. And I never wanted the smell of you to escape from my nostrils. And for the first time in a long time I felt so extremely lucky that maybe this could be it, maybe it was my turn to get something good in my life. Maybe my days of being hurt and used were over. And you told me you could see us going far, that you wouldn’t jump ship because you’re older now and no longer a stupid young man. And I felt so at ease, because I believed you. And you had to work for a few hours so you took me home and I felt sad all day. Because I knew you wouldn’t call me. And you didn’t, not until later that night. I didn’t hear from you all day. And when you finally called my heart lit up because that meant it wasn’t all a giant mistake. And I went over to your house again and we cuddled and we had more sex and it was passionate and amazing and I was falling even more not only for you, but the words you said and the hope you gave me. I didn’t realize the reality. That you hadn’t, in fact, changed very much from when you were younger.

I didn’t hear from you after that for an entire day. No texts or anything. So I broke and I texted you. And you said you weren’t a big texter. And you said you were very busy with work. And I knew that this was a sign. I knew that when someone wants you they make time for you. And you weren’t making time for me. And I didn’t see you for a few days, and we spoke sporadically on the phone, long conversations that connected me to you all over again. And I’d go over but we wouldn’t have sex because we both didn’t want kids and you didn’t like condoms and we were going to start taking it slow and I’d get an IUD and you’d get a vasectomy and then we’d be good. So we both made our appointments. And still, I was falling, past all the red flags. But each time you kissed me it was like the red flags disappeared.

And I communicated and voiced my opinions. I needed more. I needed a periodic text, I needed to know you were in this as much as me. And you did try a little harder. I’d get a text in the morning and then wouldn’t hear from you until that night, late, and we’d talk on the phone, usually, not always. And I started to not feel like a priority. I didn’t want to be crazy about you if you weren’t crazy about me, too. And I felt the distance starting. And the more I vocalized what I needed from you, which wasn’t a lot, you started with the friend talk. Let’s be friends, let’s see what the future holds and just take this slow. Then you’d call me babe, and baby and you’d kiss me. I wonder, do you kiss all your friends like that? And my first instinct was to run but I was in so deep. I’d fallen in love with the idea of you. You said you’d make time for me in your life but you’d rather go hangout with your parents on Friday and Saturday night than with me. And I started to realize what was going on. And for some reason, even though I love myself, I started to feel like it was me. That I was being rejected because I wasn’t enough.

But that was absolutely ridiculous, and now that I can see everything from an outsiders perspective, I see it how it was. No longer am I the bawling mess in my bed listening to sad music feeling sorry for myself. I am outside of it all now. Above it all and seeing it from a different perspective. YOU are a user. YOU are a master manipulator. You play the game well sir, I will give you that. You took a STRONG woman and you brought her to her knees. You took a KIND woman with so much to offer and you USED her. And YOU ain’t shit. As they say. You are a sad, lonely, insecure person. And no longer will I let any man make me feel like I’m not enough. And I may have to see you at the gym every now and then, but perhaps you’ll fuck off like you should and go to the one down the street.

I’m done. With you. With the memories. As they slowly fade, I’ll let them. Good riddance. It’s tough to know there are men out there in the world like you. But when I think of you, and picture your face I feel sorry for you. Living the life you do. Thinking you have a lot of friends when you have a few acquaintances. You let a wonderful woman go. One so full of kindness and love. I feel sorry for you that you lost me, that you treated me the way you did. I don’t wish the best for you. I just don’t care. It’s simple.


I fell apart.

My falling apart wasn’t beautiful, or glorious. It was difficult and ugly. It involved alcohol and 1.5 muscle relaxers. These contributed to my falling apart. I did things and said things I normally wouldn’t have. I became vulnerable, needed someone. And the only person I wanted was the one in the world that doesn’t want me. But the truth is, he doesn’t want himself. How I can expect to love someone who doesn’t love themselves? I loved the idea of him, I really did. And my heart makes me come off as being crazy. Because expressing your emotions and sharing them with someone passionately makes people crazy, right?

Honestly, my falling apart was a chance for me to come together again. And finally, after a month of depression, self doubt and dark thoughts, I feel like I’m getting back to myself. I feel stronger. I feel a new love for myself that wasn’t this strong before. I am beautiful. I am healthy. I am kind. I just need to protect my heart better. And I will.

My falling apart was a new beginning and I am ready for what’s to come.