an·ec·dote

Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Memories, Peace, Personal, Relationships

I’ve gone through a lot of traumatic experiences since my freshman year of high school. They haven’t just gone away, either. They follow me. My parent’s divorce at the beginning of high school was really the spark to the huge wildfire. They neglected Riley and I, meaning I wasn’t involved in school or doing the things I should have been getting done.

When I should have been taking driving lessons, my mom was moving about two-hundred miles away into an apartment with her then boyfriend. She left us with her parents, but no one was really keeping track of us or helping us do what should have been getting done. I should have been practicing driving, should have been in therapy, and someone should have been reprimanding me. I didn’t have any of that, though. I had free range of doing whatever I wanted to do, and sadly none of it was responsible.

I spent most of my days doing homework, yes. But I also would stay in bed crying all day because I felt like my parents had abandoned me. I never saw my dad and my mom’s contribution was messaging me on facebook. Ultimately, I was alone.

Instead, I was seeking attention elsewhere- so the summer of my senior year, I ended up being raped by a man. I couldn’t tell anyone because I was seventeen and he was twenty-one. I felt like I had in some ways allowed it to happen, and to this day I couldn’t press charges just because I feel responsible. I missed my period for two months and thought I might be pregnant, I spent two months thinking I was going to have to tell my mom what had happened. Luckily it was stress-induced.

That October my mom’s ex-boyfriend got a little too aggressive with my sisters and I, so we laid an ultimatum on the table for my mom; Him or us. It wasn’t the first time he had pushed the line, numerous times he physically pushed us around or used his authority as an adult to control us. He also abused my dog because she would growl at him.

She chose him, we moved out. I had just started my first job, and the only place I knew we could go last minute was with a girl I knew from school. She and her mom lived on a decent size of property and they seemed very wholesome, I figured it would be a great place to heal. We didn’t communicate very well, though. After six months we had a falling out, both parties involved were at fault. But we had to move out.

So we found a place on craigslist with a single dad who needed help with the rent, it ended up being amazing for us.

This whole time, though, I was going to high school and having to walk around 10 miles a day just to go to school, work, and home. I had no room for fault because I needed to graduate and I needed to keep my job. I didn’t have a car or the means of getting one at that point, so I just kind of dealt with it. We were barely scraping by, and some weeks we didn’t have any food at home. I remember one night we had both worked over eight hours, I walked home late, and we had no food or money. But we had a can of black beans. No can-opener. No heating or any kind. So we used a pocket knife to cut open the can and made foil spoons. That moment humbled me.

It doesn’t matter where you come from, it doesn’t matter who your parents are, or what kind of car you drive. Any of us can find ourselves in a position where a single can of cold black beans with a little salt seems like a gift from God.

I applied to universities all over California and was accepted to San Francisco State. I decided to go there and pursue a technical writing degree, which on paper was a great thing for me to do.

I moved to the city, and I knew no one. My roommate spoke french, and the other four guys were either high, playing video games, or hiding in their makeshift pillow fort. I had a job as a barista in the tenderloin, and that alone was intimidating for me. The homelessness was a serious issue, and they were aggressive. I had to follow my survival instincts while I was there. Completely ignoring the ones who confronted me. However there was one homeless woman who would wait outside the shop before we had opened. We talked, her name was Ella Mae and she had three kids. Two sons and a daughter. I could never make out all of what she said because her voice was dry and her words were slurred, but I saw a glimpse of humanity in that woman. The last two months I was there, Ella Mae didn’t come around- it wasn’t until my last day there that I found out from my favorite regular that she had a heart attack and had been in the hospital. I was happy to have an answer but upset that she was struggling even more than she had to.

My time in the city was amazing for me and helped me grow to a point where I could clearly see what I should be doing. I was suffocated by the overcrowding of people, by the fast-paced life, and by the constant displays of wealth everywhere. It’s not something that San Francisco is known for, but it’s riddled with sports cars and because of the guy I dated, I was surrounded by people who had a lot more than me.

Of course, my apartment was anything but. I love it for what it is, but it always smelled like bad broccoli and weed. It was always way too hot, and really unpleasant. My male roommates would stay up until 4am, when I would be getting up for work, partying and drinking like there wasn’t a care in the world.

I honestly wish that could have been my college experience. I just get so caught up with life that important things like financial aid gets put on the backburner. Because of that, and a breakup, I ended up dropping out of SFSU and going back home.

My mom had broken up with the abusive ex and offered me a place in her apartment, so there I went. When I was still in the city I had half-jokingly applied to a job at a popular donut shop back home as a creative baker. I didn’t even know what the job implied exactly, I didn’t know the experience I would have needed, or how much I would be paid. But I applied for the hell of it.

I ended up getting the job, and here I am. A creative baker who, hopefully, will never have to work in customer service again. I sincerely enjoy my job. I can’t wait to be able to do it without asking a million questions, though.

After everything that I have gone through, I want to have inner peace. I want to enjoy every day that I am alive. Of course, this is a journey, last night I found myself curled up in a ball crying for no reason at all.

But I’ve been doing art again, painting and drawing- it feels good to re-open that part of me. I’ve also been way more open to exploring different fashion styles and being more of myself. It turns out the way I have always wanted to dress actually looks cool to other people too.

I’m sorting through my emotions, trying to understand myself. I never will, and I have accepted that- but there’s something about the act of trying that keeps me balanced.

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dis·traught

Journal, Memories, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

Gradual descent,
Into the bowels of hell-
We swim.

Ignorant of the consequences of our actions,
Intent on making stories out of memories,
Innocent and naive-
We swim.

Out of our thinly veiled masks
we masqueraded around town
with all the naivety it takes
to sincerely Believe.

Believe. Belief. Believed.
Genuinely distraught
by our own memories.

Captivated captive of love,
dumb enough to have Heart
in a world that lives for lust.

She believed.

en·tro·py

Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

Leaves crumble, crack, and fade.
Visions of their youths,
Quietly dissipate.

Nightly apparitions,
Glasses clink, echo
into excited dawn.

Before the sun has set,
and the night has yet to age,
Hearts eagerly sit, they anticipate.

Never the cracking, crumbling, fading
That surely comes with age.

Rather the excitement of potential lovers,
Drinks that have yet to be poured,
The unrequited love to be dismantled in thin air.

res·o·nant

Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

Everything that I have been through recently, all of the things I have experienced, it points to one thing.

I do care deeply about Leo, but he is not as significant for my life as I used to imagine.

When I was with Sam in San Francisco, I recognized how important it was for me to be with someone who was transparent and not that artificial. I was craving something more, something that I could only describe as a connection.

When I was with Donnie, I felt that same way- but he wasn’t as artificial. We weren’t connecting, though. Even though we talked about incredibly deep topics, and opened up to one another. We shared our stories of suicide attempts, our fucked up families, and emotionally unstable relationships. We talked late into the night about our deepest fears and desires. But, something major was missing for me. Something that I strive to give to other people.

When I was with Alfred, I neither connected with him or thought he was genuine. He masqueraded his expensive artwork and google home setup, but was so far gone from himself that I don’t think he was capable of emotionally opening up at that moment. I was missing it there, too.

When I was with T, we connected on a surface level, but I always felt misunderstood by him. I felt like he didn’t bother trying to understand who I was, and maybe it’s my own artificial bullshit, but I do believe that there is a lot to understand about me if someone tried. Both good and bad, I am a deep and flourishing river of things to be dissected and cherished. When I am in love with someone, that is what I do- I try to understand who they are. I try to understand what makes them tick, the in’s and out’s of what they desire, value, and their experiences. I care. That is how I care.

Last night with Leo, I was really drunk for a while. I forget everything that happened, but I know I opened up. I was really honest. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, my motivations were purely instinctual.

I realize now, I value being understood. Leo doesn’t understand me, he assumes a lot about me that I don’t believe is true. He has a really cynical world-view about everyone being selfish, and I don’t believe that is entirely true. I believe that we can become selfless. That is what I am trying to do.

I invited him to tell me all of the hurtful things that he assumed and believed about me, and he did. There was a lot. He called me naive, and I am. He said that I was manipulative, and I have been, but I work on that (with T, I wasn’t manipulative, which told me that I can be morally strong.) He started to tell me about Riley, and I had to stop him. At which point he said that it proved why people didn’t want to say hurtful things. He also called me emotional and said that he rolled his eyes internally because it seemed like I was trying too hard to prove my cynical worldview. Like I was just following the script of what I should be doing, aka being unoriginal in my efforts. He said he never felt what I felt for him, but that he cared. He cared and he was nice to me to help mask the fact that I was hurt, to try and make things better because that’s his nature.

There’s truth in what he said.

I wanted to be understood by someone else, the way I understood him. I wanted things to magically fall into place, for us to equally understand one another and all that la-di-da bullshit. That’s the naivety. The very real naivety. The part of me that would linger by Box Office after I got off work and giddily stare into his eyes before I would head home. I don’t hate that part of me, it hasn’t gotten me in trouble, it has just hurt me. I think that pain I have felt was an important part of the human experience.

Just like there’s truth in the manipulation- that’s a part of me that I actively extinguish now. She’s bitter. She’s angry. She’s mad at the world for always bringing injustice, where of course I am the Just and those who get everything are the Injust. It’s wrong. I do wrong. I am often much worse than I should be. And that part of me, she rips the photos of Vanessa in the breakroom. She gossips and weasels her way into drama. She is stern. She is a bitch. She thinks that being uptight will somehow achieve her end goals, that being cold and snarky will somehow garner respect. It doesn’t. Ripping up photos of other girls, gossiping, being cold, none of those things are respectable.

But Leo is right that it exists within me.

He’s right that I am emotional, but I want to understand it instead of getting rid of it. Too many people wander through life ignoring how they feel, and I won’t be one of them. I don’t want to be an explosion of emotions though. I want my emotions to be reasonable and in control. Perhaps that’s the next journey I will go on, emotional maturity.

He’s right that the world can be selfish and will consistently hurt you, and maybe this is just my naivety coming out to play, but I hold myself to a higher standard. I will work toward being morally in-tune with myself and my actions. Maybe I should adopt the whole notion that what I don’t know can’t hurt me. Maybe just for the time being.

I need to stop emotionally exhausting myself in situations that aren’t important.

What is important?

The moment? Family? Having a sense of purpose? Success, however it is that you define it? Love? Is love important? Are the mementos important?

I gauge what is important through my heart, what I am called to and called to do- that’s important. But I’m completely questioning it now because I thought my heart was calling for me to love Leo, I thought that it was important. I thought it was some version of destiny or fate calling to me to do what was supposed to be done.

I don’t regret listening to my heart. It’s never directed me in a path that ended up being wrong for me-

So what about Leo, then? Your heart called you there. Maybe not because you two were destined to fall in love with each other, but because he could teach you something important.

I know that I have improved who I am incredible amounts since I’ve had feelings for him. I have learned the truest parts of who I am, and the negative attributes that I have acquired through pain. I have become a more genuine me. The me I have always known I was- and I’m not done, I’m nowhere near finished on my path toward being a more sincere person. But I have made progress.

Maybe that’s why my heart was drawn to Leo. His influence in my life not only helped me grow, but it has helped me work on my biggest flaws. I could be the most giving person in the world, but if I continued to rip up the pictures of other girls and gossip and be nasty inside, I would never be genuine. If I continued to be concerned with what everyone thought about me, I would never be satisfied as I am.

I can admit when I am wrong, I am judgemental and insecure. My self-esteem takes it’s highs and lows seriously. When I am confident, nothing can tear me down. When I am insecure, it could take a slight breeze to push me over the edge.

I deal with depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies, and I’m showing signs of an addictive personality. Those are my big ones, the things I haven’t really been able to tackle yet because I’m stuck on the manipulation and insecurity and loneliness. I know they are intertwined. I know my problems don’t exist separately in different realms. They are one and the same. One larger picture, one big issue that I couldn’t take on right now.

So instead of dealing with it, I indulge. Another guy, another night, another unidentified pill, another glass, another emotionally charged writing session, another breakdown. What it comes down to is that I’m unsure what the bigger problem is, I don’t know how to help myself because I can’t say what’s wrong. I just know that I want to be understood, I want company, I want stimulation, I want to love and be loved.

My bed smells like him. His presence is still in this room, shadows have been cast into a timeless place that does not forget who has been here. His voice reverberates in the walls, it dances with the wind of the passing storm. You have been in this place. For me, love resounds.

There is beauty, even in this.

en·dear·ment

Beauty, Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Relationships

My ego doesn’t want me to do this. It doesn’t want me to tell the truth. It would be perfectly content lying to you, saying all the things I wish were true. Like, saying that I don’t care.

But I’ve had feelings for you for over a year – I’m going to be transparent with you. Not because it’s easy, but because I value transparency. And because I want a sense of clarity here.

If I lied to you, I would just keep struggling. I could not grow.

I realize that being so honest puts me in a vulnerable place. However, being in a vulnerable spot isn’t going to stop me from being truthful.

I’m willing to cause myself discomfort in order to live by a set of values I’ve come to realize matter to me.

And I don’t want to be the kind of person who uses honesty as a thin veil to be a bitch.

There’s always a point in time where we find ourselves caught in regrettable action. Doing something that doesn’t coincide with who we are or what we believe. And in that moment we are faced with a decision. We must consider a few things; the way your actions made you feel, the way your actions made others feel, and whether those actions align with how you want to conduct yourself in the future.

The way I felt for you was very powerful. It was a pendulum, swaying from good to bad.

Due to lack of communication, I found myself really hurt. I never knew what you were thinking or how you felt. But I’m also not blind or dumb, I know we were never together. I know I tried to coerce you too much. I also know some of what has been said about me, and I’ve picked up from others that things have been said or insinuated, and that really hurts.

I’ve been an open book with you, and this is one of those moments where I have to decide how I want to act in the future.

Is this level of transparency productive? Is being a totally open book healthy?

Because I know that in this situation I came off as very desperate – but personally I know I’m not. I don’t need you, I’m not hopeless without you. I’m not under the impression that I’ll live a sad and helpless life without you.

I know I’m completely capable of being happy without a partner.

And I feel like my actions haven’t translated that for you.

All of the things I have done for you – the letters, bringing your favorite coffee for you, inviting you over… All of that was just supposed to show you that I cared about you. That you weren’t some object to me. But instead, things became convoluted.

When there wasn’t a clear answer for me, my insecurity came out. I felt toyed with. Perhaps you didn’t want to hurt me. Perhaps you wanted to keep me around for a rainy day.

My personal favorite explanation is that you really do feel something between us, however, I remind you so much of your dysfunctional ex-girlfriend that you cannot let me in. But you feel the same timeless thing I feel for you. You remember everything is as much vivid detail as I do, and you shared those parts of your life with me to value and treasure- not just because I was your friend, but because you wanted us to feel a connection before I left. I want to believe that you listen to the same song I do and think of me, that daisies remind you of me like they remind me of you, and there is a very simple and familiar calling within you that confirms things should be.

But that’s just when I allow myself to indulge.

It’s hard not to when the song that reminds me of you comes on as you drive past me on my walk.

ar·ti·cles

Humanist, Journal, Memories, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships

In front of me, I have six objects.

A box of breakfast bars.
A jar of weed.
Two lighters.
A pair of socks.
A hoodie.
A book.

I have memories, longing.
Contempt, agitation.
I am moved, yet powerless.
Displeased, but compassionate.
Sentimental, fond,
and regretful.

Six objects.

Each one evoking emotion from me, each one a reminder for different parts of the relationship. When things were good, bad, and neutral.

I am filled with emotion, intuition, and compassion. But I am also in pain.

When I see the hoodie, I think about how he looked as a preteen. Always so embarrassed of it, but I thought it was adorable. I had a soft spot in my heart for his childhood, I cared about what he had experienced and was always interested in learning more.

When I look at the socks, I remember how easily he was distracted. How easily he forgot things. I found it endearing. He had forgotten my birthday, and even after my birthday, he forgot to give me my gift for a long time. I’m not sure if he was actually forgetful or if he just didn’t really care. Felt ambivalent toward me. I guess I’ll never really know the truth. He was always like that, though. I fell in love with it. The way he would stare off at something and just be thinking about the most random shit. It made my heart glow.

The breakfast bars. They remind me of the times just before the end. When he started his job and became distant. We went shopping together and I was trying so hard to get him to be present with me, but he just wasn’t. It made me wonder if there was someone he worked with that he liked. He brought me with him to where he worked, but when I visited him on his break, he seemed really distracted and like he didn’t want me to be there.

The jar of weed and lighters. This one is mixed for me. There is so much attached to it. The memories of the night before the party, when we argued and he told me he didn’t see a future together. He made me cry a lot, said he didn’t want to break up, but it was the beginning of the end to me. Things never felt the same after that. I didn’t trust that he loved me. The party itself, he got drunk and looked at other girls. But I met his friends, I tried to forget about the problems we were having. I stole the weed and lighters to have some fun and bond with him. Then Uber ride with the police officer, I had the weed in my purse and was worried as fuck. It was on my body, not his. I took so much risk there. When we got home, he was so drunk. His helplessness reminded me of my dad, and I was so disgusted. He hurt me a lot that weekend. It didn’t end that night either. The next day he took the weed from my purse, and to me, that was incredibly rude. I didn’t take it for the actual weed itself. Sure, that seemed like a fun thing at the time, but for me, it was really about making the memory of doing something stupid like that together. For me, it was about doing something risky together. Bonding. After our near-breakup the night before, I wanted us to feel close and connected. But I ended up putting myself in a dangerous situation with the cop- and then the next day T just took it. Put it in his closet like it was his, and his alone. As if I hadn’t been there with him at all and he had done it alone. To him, he was entitled to it. That was his jar of weed.

The really funny thing was that I didn’t care what was inside that jar at all. I just wanted a sentimental object, I just wanted to believe my relationship wasn’t already falling apart.

The only reason I have it now is that he wasn’t going to smoke when finding a new job. So I took it back.

And now I ache when I look at it.

 

re·sound·ing

Humanist, Journal, Memories, no trust, Personal, Relationships

Leaving this place is manifesting itself in my life finally. By that, I mean it’s feeling real. I’m packing today, and that means confronting memories and realizing his presence is still in this room. There was so much of his hair behind my bed. I saw the remaining earring from that night we were making out on that cliffside when I lost the other. I can’t explain the devastation I felt. It’s so deep and I feel the roots of it throughout my entire self.

The mint plant we bought together started to grow again and it feels like some sort of terrible, painful irony.

My chest aches in agony.

The bag filled with stuff that reminds me of him, I still don’t know what to do with it. Just sits there with emotional weight.

I’ve had my rebounds.
Leftover echo of his presence in my life is loud.

I’m still in pain.

 

1·7·2019

Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Dear T,
I’m glad you came over to talk tonight. It gave me the closure I needed and reminded me that you aren’t some heartless bastard. You just needed time to process your thoughts before we could talk about it together.

Thank you. Not just for tonight, but for being there for me. Thank you for being the person who I spent my time in San Francisco with. I literally couldn’t have picked someone better. You told me about that tree in Golden Gate Park that has owls. You told me about how you would go to Ripley’s museum on the Wharf as a kid. You introduced me to a part of San Francisco that I didn’t even know existed, to the opulent neighborhoods and the rich kids who don’t know anything else. I listened to every word.

Every moment we spent together meant the world to me. I’ll miss laying on your couch, smiling as you walk through the door. I’ll miss laying awake at night, unable to fall asleep because your bed was uncomfortable, but having you there and being satisfied. I’ll miss going to get coffee together after staying at your house and eating breakfast with your family and watching The Twilight Zone together.

I’ll miss when you picked me up from work. I’ll miss going to that party together. I’ll miss watching the Sister Brothers together in that theatre. I’ll miss going to the mall together and holding hands, taking walks on the beach. Getting ice cream at the place with the spinning wheel. The pizza place with the mounted car that had rolling wheels (still think that gluten-free pizza was bad, though.)

I’m going to miss a lot of things, but mostly I’ll miss waking up to you in the morning. Your messy morning face and hair. I’ll miss going to bed next to you at night. Holding each other in a comfortable silence.

I really do hope that we cross paths again. I hope that wasn’t just some breakup nonsense. No matter where you go, what you do, or where you end up – I am here supporting you.

I love you TLE, that will never change.

proc·ess

Humanist, Journal, Memories, New, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Saturday, January 5th

The breakup is having an effect on me because when I moved up here I met T a week into living in San Francisco. I spent all of my time with him and never allowed for myself to make any other friendships because I was satisfied with having just him. However, that also means that after the breakup all of my memories of going out and doing things involve him. So when I go out, and I see a place or a thing or a brand or whatever that I have a memory connected to San Francisco, it eventually ties back to him.

Things would be easier if Maeva and Efren were still here, but they moved out. So I am in an empty apartment, broken up with, no solid friendships with anyone in a 300-mile radius, and because I spent all of my time trying to create a healthy relationship with one guy who was unwilling to put the same effort in as me.

I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me, however, it hurts because I spent so long thinking that we wanted to be together. I spent a lot of time thinking about what our futures held together, and I had a feeling this would happen. Or I at least knew it was a possibility.

It was easy to think our relationship was doing good because we never talked about our problems, and when we did, T would zone out and not really contribute to the conversation… On that note, I think that guy has some serious confrontation issues. Anyway, we didn’t talk about him going to college, we didn’t talk about our days or how we were feeling really (unless one of us was obviously stressed), and I know that it really bothered me when he would go out drinking because of how reckless he acted. I remember trying to talk to him about that, and the conversation must have gone another direction because I’m not sure he ever found out. We also didn’t talk about the fact that his family seemed to not like me, and if they did, they also have a weird way of communicating. I could always tell when he wasn’t super into our conversations, he was kind of aloof. Didn’t really care or have an opinion, or the opinion he did have was without any experience to back it up. That did bother me. He always acted like he knew everything, even though he had very little real-world experience. He had never worked a job in retail before, he had been pretty sheltered at his all-boys school, and also his family has always been well taken care of from the looks of it.

Besides all of that, he hurt me. He insulted my apartment, he insulted my job, and he constantly tried to act as if he weren’t privileged. I know that he’s getting money from his family for graduation, so I know that he will never understand what it’s like to be straight out of high school and trying to fend for himself. I know that he will never have to work and go to school full time because his family will take care of him. It’s unfair. He will never understand the pain that I was going through while we were dating, but that’s life.

I think that if he lived what I had been living up here, doing what I had been doing, he would have been a lot less cocky.

I barely get by, and yet I gave so much of myself to him when I didn’t need to. I gave him my time. I gave him my energy. I gave him my heart.

He has intensified my trust issues and made me want to be single until someone actually worthy of my love comes along. Until someone willing to put effort into a relationship comes along.

Prep boy has a long way to go before he is mature.

The really sad thing is that he never bothered to get to know me, our relationship could have been so deep and fruitful and brought us closer together. But we never talked. He never asked me questions, never got to know me, never wanted to understand who I was.

When I tried to get to know him, he avoided it.

When I tried to help our relationship, he avoided it.

He was very blatantly okay with walking away from me, and I don’t wanna be with someone like that.

I want loyalty. I want honesty. I want communication. I want to understand each other. I want to be there for you. I want to fucking love you. I wanna be my best self and help you be your best self, I want to support and be supported.

Life isn’t about the exes we have had, it’s about the stable relationships we build along the way. If I love someone, I’m going to be there with them until the end. If I’m dating someone, I’m going to be there to make things work. None of that wishy-washy ‘I don’t feel it anymore’ bullshit. If things had lasted, I would have been his mother fucking wife, I would have had his mother fucking kids, that’s how dedicated and loyal I was to him.

Sure I thought about another dude a few times while we were fucking, sure I was attracted to Sheldon sometimes at work, but the thing is that I never acted on those impulses. I didn’t want to, they were just human nature. Like the way that he stared at the girl’s tits. I hold it against him, but I’m not saying he did anything wrong. I just never liked that he did it.


Sunday, January 6th

I woke up kinda early, and I slept the most that I have since the breakup, however, the pain has been in my chest since I opened my eyes. There are tissues all over my room, I still haven’t eaten.. But I just made myself some porridge and tea. I don’t have an appetite, but I know I need to eat. I’m trying to figure out why it hurts. I can’t heal unless I understand why I am in pain.

It feels like my parents abandoning me. I know this isn’t true, but it feels like everyone I love will eventually leave me because they don’t want me. I thought I had done better this time, I thought I had picked someone good. My friends always get on me about having the worst taste in men, and maybe they’re right. Even T didn’t treat me right, even though he was the best boyfriend I have had.

This is really hard to say, but I know I deserve someone who won’t leave me. Someone who won’t cheat on me. Someone who means it when they say they love me. I know I deserve someone who values me.

Honestly, I want someone to love me the way I loved T. I want someone to put in thought, effort, time, and energy into me.

I deserve someone to be my peace and not my stress. I deserve someone who wants to listen when I talk. I deserve someone who cares about how my day was. I deserve someone who wants me to stay over at their house. I deserve someone who stays up talking with me. I deserve someone who is present with me.

I deserve love.

The guys I have dated, they did not value me.

This has been an interesting chapter of my life, but I am ready for it to be over. There is only so much I can learn from a city where I am lonely and heartbroken.

I’m trying to figure out why even the good memories hurt right now. Maybe because they might have only been good for me, maybe because there was a chance he wasn’t even enjoying it and was thinking about leaving me.

I’m also hurting thinking about never making new memories with him. It’s so ridiculous.

I am sad. I am angry. I am hurt. I am confused.

However, I have hope for a more fulfilling life. I have hope for more fulfilling relationships. Every break up I have ever gone through has brought out new parts of myself, parts that made me better and stronger and more in tune with myself.

So, T and I won’t grow old together and have adorable little kids with curly blonde hair. We won’t live out the cute fantasy I had in my head. But I do know that whoever I end up with will be better for me.

I know I have more breakups and heartaches on the horizon, I know that won’t stop me from being a hopeless romantic. I have learned that when I love, I love deeply. I have learned that when I commit, I commit fully. I have learned that when I care, nothing can stop me.

I have a lot I need to learn about love, but I am able to say that the memories I made with T are valuable to me – even if it hurts to think about them right now.