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November 3, 2024 - February 6, 2025
“I live; I die; the sea comes over me; it’s the blue that lasts.”
Find a purpose.
You downplay your pain. You act like it doesn’t exist, that it isn’t a part of you, when it became you.”
Before I could open my mouth, Blu slapped a palm on my desk, leaning up from her slump. She said one word. One word that sent all the waves of serotonin into overdrive. One word that no one had ever said to me in my entire life. A word I craved to hear. A word that did not exist to my ears. “Mine.”
“Good enough to fuck,” I stated. “Not good enough to love,” I accepted.
“Oh, okay. It’s like, one of my worst fears.” “To smell bad?” “Well, yeah. Isn’t that what attracts people? Scent?”
I was safe in the stall, safe to store my thoughts in my head and lock them away until need be. I never wanted those thoughts to breathe, but they always came. They persisted. They wanted to be there.
I wanted to be an object of desire. I craved it. I needed to know that I was worthy of love.
But over time, I learned to be everything that everyone wanted. I learned to match the energy of others, to morph into whatever they liked and remained that way until I didn’t need to anymore. That was the moment I realized how to win people over.
That was also the moment I realized how little of myself I had left, when I was trying to please everyone else.
“It’s never the people I want in my life that come around. I feel like I’m waiting for someone to understand me, and no one ever does.”
No one had ever paid attention to me before. Not like this. Not ever.
When I wasn’t good enough. When I wasn’t good enough. When I wasn’t good enough.
Love yourself more.
The worst part was, I couldn’t even explain why I was crying. I didn’t know.
The memories of wanting to feel something other than sorrow.”
I’d never move forward if I stayed stuck in the past.
Why do you insist on doing this to me?” His response may have been the most honest thing he’s ever said, and that terrified me. In one breath, he shattered my soul. “You let me.”
You let me. I allowed him to hurt me. I allowed him to think there was a chance. You let me.
“I don’t know if loving you properly would’ve changed the trajectory of our friendship, but I’m sorry that I couldn’t have been better.”
So in the end, I was the walking, living, breathing piece of shit that broke a girl who was already broken.
“The blue seems eternal.”
The kindness outside the torment of my mind.
I’d wasted three hundred and sixty-five days chasing a fake dream of being fake happy. Fake. Fake. Fake.
Impossible. Unrealistic. But it was the world we lived in. Experience = Success.
There was little room to grow because you were expected to be grown, to be mature
“Sometimes silence is the best form of conversation.”
I don’t think I was happy. I don’t think I ever was.
I wasn’t forgettable. I was worthy.
That every other person he seemed to care about – his cocky friends, his brothers, his dad – they all shelved him for rainy days. Maybe I was his rainy day.
He never did anything with me as the primary focus. I was never a priority, never first. I satisfied him, but I was never enough to fulfill him.
I was happy for them. I was happy they found something I didn’t. If it was possible for one, it was possible for all. It was possible for me.
“People can only hurt you if you let them.”
Today, I chose me. Tomorrow, I’d choose me. Forever.
