self destruction

Shake it out.

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I should have written this a long time ago. The minute my heart changed, and we went our separate ways. Like a broken record, I yearn for the tragic melodies of yesterday. The pain that cuts you straight down to the core. Bleeding through your veins and making your heart beat faster. I love the hurt, I need the pain. This sick desire for self destruction never leaves. But at this moment it has started to escape me.

You can take everything you want from this. Every letter, every word, every sentence, every verb. Everything. Let it manifest itself into what you want to believe. Because if I cared even an ounce about you, I wouldn’t feel the need to rid myself of you.

I do not break for you.
I do not cry for you.
I do not love who or what I believed you were.

You’re the needle that scratches my record player, wanting to hear only my favorite song. At this moment, everything sounds differently now. Even you look different now. The past always stays in the past, no matter how many times a ghost haunts you. The ghost lingers then drifts away, just around the same time the melody ends. Ending with the memories, ending with the sadness and all the tears.

Its through this pain that I thought a million things about you.

I thought I loved you.
I thought I missed you.
I thought I would self-destruct without you.

Thinking only leads to dreams that never truly existed. An end to our story. Waking from the blissful dreams into our badly lit reality. Its then we find ourselves back at the start. Back to the beginning.

Scratch that.

We can’t take things back to the start. We have maxed out our ideas of new beginnings. What’s done is done and every girl after me is just filler space. Because men like you hate the voided vacancy of present tense.

I will shake you out from underneath my skin. Out from every inch of my bones, into the dusty mist where you belong. Because I am doing just fine without you. Every night is another night to forget you. I watch as memories turn to dust and leave behind all these scattered thoughts about you.

I am doing just fine.
I am doing just fine.
Just you wait and see.

Hurt.

Scars have a way of reminding us of who we used to be. The more I glance upon my skin, the more my scars find a way to haunt me. Telling me stories of what being broken does to harm a person, more than allowing them to heal. My scars were always my battle wounds of the past, just another story to keep to myself. One day this will all disappear, I’ll find new skin to paint over the old. Isn’t that all we really want? Just a clean slate to wash over all our prior mistakes. Some days I am ready to let go of the past, other days I can’t help but think of every single detail.

Who am I, without my broken past of broken promises. Who am I, without all the chaos and sadness that surrounds me. Who am I, in the light that changes the moment the dark hits me. Most days I am just trying to keep this broken corpse together and other days I can’t wait to tear it apart. Self destructing is in my nature, it’s something I can’t escape from. I can fool everyone but I can’t seem to fool myself. Maybe all I need is to dig myself a little deeper in the hurt and cut out the pain. Get rid of all the self destructive desires and find a way to let in the good. Because everything I am feeling is bad and all I could think about is how to hurt myself and make myself bleed.

All I have left are the scars that remind me of every tragic moment in my life. Every last broken hurtful piece of flesh that bleed through every cut. Some days I can still feel it. They are memories that no matter how you suppress them, they never truly go away. Maybe the madness never truly goes away, we all just find ways to pretend we are okay. Are we ever truly okay? Can we ever just forget the past of broken promises and give way to a peaceful future? Perhaps. Or then again there’s no such thing as a peaceful future because we are so self consumed in our past prior mistakes. It doesn’t matter how many times I wrap myself up with new skin and promises of new beginnings, I find myself picking at the scabs of cuts that should have already healed.

Why do I do that to myself? Why am I so focused on the pain and fixated on the amount of hurt I put myself through?

Days I wish I could forgive myself. Forgive every hurtful dark thing I could think about. Maybe then my heart could feel whole again. Maybe then my heart would find a way to love again. But the more I dwell the more I can’t. I can’t forgive myself when the scars are the constant reminders of my mistakes. The scars find a way to open themselves up and bleed out every terrible thing I can think about. Its the scars that keep me thinking of the darkness when I should be searching for the light.

All I want is to hurt and to continue in this pain. Watch my body self destruct and be rid of this vessel and find some peace of mind. Take all my broken pieces and find some way toward the light. This dark is to heavy and the scars are too. Who knows where the future will lead me but I know this present is persistent to this hurt. Scratch, cut, and bleed my way through. Its after all the blood has drained that the hurt will go away. Only then would I find peace.

Only then I will find the light.

7/13/2007

Pursuit of Happiness.

Crush a bit, little bit, roll it up, take a hit.

I am watching everything in my life slip away. Through the clouds of the smoke that we so delicately breathe out of ourselves. We are wasting away the nights drinking away our sorrows, when all we want to do is sit silently in deep thoughts and conversations. I have nothing to hide from these monsters I see before me. I have nothing to hide from the people that are surrounding me. All I ever wanted was a reason to escape these nightmares that keep me up at night. Instead I watch myself disappear into the clouds and float away from everything around me.

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Everything and everyone is alive in slow motion. Turning into blurry masses, while I constantly observe this happening. I am not afraid. I sit and observe in hope that in time I too will turn into a blurry mass of nothing. Disappear into the misty fog clouds that I see before me. Become nothing but a huge cloud of smoke and then nothing. I could die at this moment and still feel more alive then I did in my waking life. Feel something more than I have ever felt. Maybe death isn’t such a bad thing, all I know is that at this moment living is just a hard as dying.

Do you think you ever get to that point where everything feels okay? Where everything finally comes alive and you don’t feel this way? Will I ever feel like I am living?

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I just want an excuse to disappear. Become another blurry mass in the crowd of slow motion living. Instead I sit and watch the mockery everyone makes of themselves. I watch everyone move slowly as an exaggerated version of themselves. This isn’t what I want. This isn’t what I imagined my life to be. I can’t help but feel trapped around the same things and the same people. Every last one of us wanted a reason to disappear. Drinking and smoking away every last bit of our selves to feel something. Anything. I just want an excuse to stay awake because its the nightmares that keep me up at night. Its the thoughts of loneliness and sadness that can’t stop once they’re settled under my skin. Hurting myself can only go so far and once I exhausted all my resources, how much more of the destruction do I have left.

I am too deep into my self destruction to get myself out of this mess. I just wish for this all to be over. The tears, the numbing, the nightmares, everything. Maybe not today, but soon. Until then I’ll sit here disappearing into the clouds and wishing for something else. Anything else. This road to happiness and my many ways of pursuing greatness.  Maybe someday.

I’ll be fine once I get it, I’ll be good. 

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7/1/2009

Everybody comes to Hollywood..

Bright lights, shooting stars and all that.

I can’t even remember what the grand appeal was to live in LA. Maybe it was the sense that it was far enough from home without leaving the state. It was a large enough city to get completely lost in while a 6 hour car ride back to reality. A majority of my childhood was spent dreaming of LA. While there were endless trips to the Bay Area, it was LA that was always the most glamorous city. Needless to say every dream I ever had was to pack all of my belongings and make it big under the big marquees and the shiny lights of Hollywood. When you’re a dreamer, you spend your nights just waiting for that chance to pick up everything and walk out with nothing. That’s exactly what I did.

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Its weird how vividly I remember that move. The sights, the sounds, and most of all just finally packing everything to let my life go. For so long I believed that what I was doing was making a new start. I was picking up the broken pieces and finding a new place to put them back together. Up until the day that I moved I was constantly going back and forth telling myself that this was the right choice. I had been heartbroken for so long and it was time to finally be happy. There’s always that part inside of me that thinks maybe all of this is a bad idea. Regardless of doubts and negative influences, I left. Maybe I could finally let go of everything I was feeling and maybe for once I would finally feel better. It had been a year since I was dumped, a year since I had started my stage of never ending self destruction and here I was opening the doors to a new beginning. I needed this, I wanted this change. More importantly I needed this to work. My first weeks in LA were complete blur. A majority of them just adjusting to a new lifestyle, a new life, and moving in with someone other than my parents. Sure I had lived with a roommate before but this was different. I was finally at an age that I could be a REAL adult. However, being a REAL adult meant a majority of different factors I never really grasped the concept of. Sure I paid every one of my bills on time, but I hadn’t lived on my own in a long time. Not to mention the money I had saved for the move was slowly becoming non-existent with in the first weeks of moving in.

Was I being financially irresponsible? Of course I was.

Life moves rather fast in a bigger city. LA was no exception. Instead of being responsible for my lack of income I had coming in, I spent it. ALL OF IT. This is where I could blame a lot of factors. I will still hooking up with a guy that was in a relationship (the same guy that dumped me), I was still going back to my old destructive ways and more importantly I just felt really alone. When I moved, I didn’t tell anybody. In the span of a year after my break-up, I told 5 people I was moving. I was exceptionally dramatic, I just wanted to disappear and see how many people would actually notice. I said my final goodbyes and packed up all my belongings and left. Not before hooking up with the person who dumped me out of revenge for the whole situation. At that point, I just didn’t care. I was leaving and everyone else was staying behind while I was moving forward.

Under the Urban Lights. One of the few things I miss about my time in LA

Under the Urban Lights. One of the few things I miss about my time in LA

When you move you always have to factor in these different scenarios:

Will I find work right away?

Do I have a place to stay?

How much money, do I need to support myself?

Can I honestly afford to move out?

That right there. The above. “Can I honestly afford to move out?”.  That should have been the question I asked myself over and over, instead I took my last check of work and never looked back.

It didn’t take too long to adjust to the LA lifestyle. The moving, the shaking and the great deal of partying. I was partying for a life I couldn’t afford before I even had a job. In some ways I was partying all of my feelings, my doubts, and even all of my own personal demons all for the sake of a good time. I knew the party couldn’t last forever and within weeks the party stopped. My roommate always told me she would be a huge advocate of helping me find a good job. A good paying job, like the one she was accustom to having. While I am not one to wait for everything, I started job hunting and found a job working as a receptionist in a Lending Company. It wasn’t ideal. I wasn’t making much money but at least it was a steady income to get my life on track. Within weeks of working and trying to adjust to life, the guy I was hooking up with dumped me for second time. If it wasn’t bad the first time, it was ten times worst the second. I just couldn’t catch a break. Right around the time I was adjusting to my new life, my brother moved in. After that it became a never ending cycle of bullshit. Everyone knows I don’t get a long with my sibling. To even saying his name makes me boil with anger. I was never like that before. Sure he annoyed me as all siblings do, but the day that he moved in to the apartment on the pretense of moving in with his friends changed everything. Right around the time that I was given the boot from my “relationship”, my brother was heartbroken about a relationship of his own.  Where I saw an out with my roommate, my brother saw an out with me. While he swore he was only going to stay for a handful of weeks until his friends moved to LA, I believed him. It wasn’t that I was being selfish but I had my own life to lead. I had my own life, struggles and demons to conquer, moving to LA was my dream and here I was playing babysitter to someone else’s. Things changed rather quickly once my brother moved in. I couldn’t necessarily talk freely about any of my problems, I couldn’t even bring my problems up. I was hiding every ounce of emotion I felt and that ended up being my downfall amongst other things.

No matter how many hours I’ve worked, how many times I thought I was making it. I wasn’t doing shit. The true honest factor where I thought I was finally coming together with something, something else would fall apart. I couldn’t afford rent. I couldn’t afford to live in LA. My new life was slowly becoming a harsh reality. I wasn’t paying rent because I wasn’t making any sort of money and therefore my roommate took the blunt end of the spectrum. I should have been more financially responsible but the truth was something inside of me snapped. Of course I want to blame every factor of my feelings but reality was I wasn’t being much of an adult. Instead of calling home and asking for money, I continued to spend whatever money I had. Every week I had 100 dollars to my name and every weekend I spent everything. How my roommate didn’t kick me out within the first few weeks, I’ll never understand. Instead she was too busy being the adult. Helping my brother get work (the same work she promised she would help me find), helping out with the finances, and importantly being the sister to my brother that I couldn’t be. Did that bother me? Absolutely. When I absolutely lost it was around the time I tried to be civil with my brother. He had lived in the apartment well over his few weeks mark and still wasn’t saying much to me. He would bicker about everything, argue about bullshit and more importantly just be so ungrateful about everything. I GET IT, he was having a hard time. WHAT ABOUT ME? Wasn’t I not dumped a few weeks prior? Did I know nothing about heartbreak? If my roommate invited him out, he would go. If I invited him out, he was busy or tired. I didn’t think it was fair. Here I was doing him a favor and he wouldn’t speak to me. It wasn’t until he told me that my roommate just understood him. “She’s going through a lot of heartbreak, she understands where I am coming from?”.

WOW.

Really?

I begin to wonder what was I actually doing in LA anymore. I couldn’t afford to live there. I couldn’t even pay rent. More importantly I wasn’t communicating with anyone.  What in the fuck was I doing?

Once again the cycle of destruction started all over again. When you harbor all of that negativity inside, its so easy to attract the darkness. Week after week it was another thing. First it was breaking my hand after being dumped (one $150 visit to Urgent care, then to County ER $75 a visit later), then needing an emergency root canal ($1500 plus procedure). It was one thing after another. I missed work because of these problems and lost money because I was missing work.

What did I do? I drank, smoked and shopped.

How did I feel? Absolutely miserable.

It was just one unlucky break after another. I was miserable and most of all I was extremely lonely. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I always confided in my roommate with my problems but she was too busy confiding in my brother. Every one else lived too far and any one that lived close didn’t understand. I felt alone because I was alone, I started doing everything to make the sadness disappear but it only made things worse.

The Rent breakdown

$1050 /a month for Rent (RENT $2100)
$450 /a month for utilities (mind you this is roughly an estimate)
$300 /a month for extra expenses

TOTAL: $1800 a month.

My Income

$1170 /a month ($12 an hour, paid weekly)

My expenses
$100 / a week groceries
$65 / a month (phone bill)
$75 / a month credit card bill Wells Fargo
$75 /a month credit card bill B of A
$75/ medical expense
$129/ dental expense
$40 / GAS

TOTAL $759

Miscellaneous Expenses

$411 / a month on bullshit (drinking, dining, shopping, etc)

Monthly earnings

$0

I absolutely just couldn’t catch a break. More importantly this new beginning was an absolute nightmare. I fought all the time with my roommate. I hated the cards that were dealt before me. Once again I continued to get the shit end of the stick and everyone was okay with that. When you’re broken you will do anything to continue to be in the darkness. I did just that. However on the other side my brother was doing great. He was making good money, he was excelling at work, and while he was still heartbroken, his life was coming together. Of course I was jealous of that. That was suppose to be me. That was suppose to be my life. I was the one that was suppose to be going somewhere. Instead I was stuck. He was being praised left and right and I was just a silly sob story. My parents constantly told me that if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be excelling. All I could think about was, why hadn’t anyone else done the same for me? Why didn’t anyone ask me how the fuck I was doing? Once again I was the savior in someone else’s life, but they only used me as a tiny blurb in their story.

Again the cycle continued. The drinking, the partying, the spending, the fighting, until one day it all stopped.

My roommate just about couldn’t take it anymore. Honestly I don’t blame her. I was a horrible person. Where I was once so hopeful for a new life, I became vile, vindictive and down right rotten. The only person I had to blame was myself. Honestly would you want to live with a person like that? There are so many things that went on in that apartment, all of which I don’t care to discuss anymore. When my roommate asked me to leave, I lost it. Not because I failed but because I was exactly how I felt. I was a loser. I was doing no better than if I stayed in my hometown.  She had every right to ask me to leave. I see that now, however at the time I was so angry and heartbroken I blamed her for everything. More importantly where I thought I had an ally in my brother, he took my roommate’s side in everything. After all she got him the job in his new life, she allowed him to continue living with her. And while I left with my usual dramatics, my brother took my place. To this day I have never forgiven my brother for that. Even though I can say I am over it, I am not. He took a life that wasn’t his to begin with. Where I continued to struggle in all aspects of my life, once again he had a hand out to make his life better. Every day I asked myself why. Why it was so easy for people like him that everyone made things happen for?  I wish I had the answer for everything.

I moved back home heartbroken, defeated and worst of all more broken the first time I left. I failed and instead of picking up the pieces, I left them piling up on the floor. I was angry and worst of all I was angry that my brother continued to live in MY apartment and taking over MY life. My brother and I don’t speak anymore. It took a year after I left for me to get the courage to even be civil to him. I was so angry with everything that went on in that apartment that I was still blaming him for everything. It’s been years since I’ve spoken to my roommate. It’s been years since a lot of things. I put all my eggs in the basket of living in LA, that I never once wondered the consequences. LA was suppose to be my new everything. What I failed to see was that LA was my complete downfall. I bit off more than I could chew and I was choking to death. Moving to LA just opened a new wave of bullshit. Instead of seeing my problems for what they were, I was running away from them. When you run away from your problems, they eventually catch up to you when you least expect them to. That’s exactly what happened with me. Maybe it was my Karma back for everything in my past. The lying, the secrecy, the dramatics, everything came back to haunt me. I was driving myself absolutely insane with my internal problems that I refused to see what I was doing to myself. I wasn’t myself when I was in LA, I was just another empty hollow shell. I drank too much, I threw up all my food, I took too many pills, I smoked too much, and every day it was the same thing. It didn’t matter what I did to hide my problems, they were always there staring back at me. I was no different than an addict, I was no different than a junkie, I  was just better at hiding everything I felt.  The only people I should be ashamed of is myself. I should have asked for help instead of crying for it but I didn’t. Instead I blamed everyone for all of my misfortunes.

This photo pretty much portrays my time in LA. Completely empty and hollow.

This photo pretty much portrays my time in LA. Completely empty and hollow.

It’s been 6 years since I’ve lived in LA. Every year I unravel a new revelation about that time period. I knew better. I wasn’t ready to move without fully being okay with my own personal demons. Never should I have left without being financially responsible for myself. I should have never offered a hand to help when I needed help to begin with. I also should never have moved into an apartment that was way beyond my means. So on, so forth. The point of growing up is finally coming to terms with the past. My life in LA was never going to work out, I know that now. While the appeal and allure of the shiny façade of LA will always intrigue me, it was never for me. I can play a million “what if” scenarios but the truth of the matter was, I wasn’t cut out for that life. A lot can happen in a year or two but after 6 years of analyzing I realized I have to stop looking back. Everything had a reason for happening and everything had to fall apart in order to find a place in my life. I didn’t understand it then but as the years progress, I start to understand it a little more. I am still not on speaking terms with my brother and who knows if I ever will be. Until I can fully put that whole time period behind me, only then I can truly heal that relationship. If there is anyone that I have to truly apologize for being so horrible is to my roommate because honestly she didn’t deserve any of that. While I may not have agreed with the tactics that happened after I left the apartment, I was never ungrateful for anything she did for me. At the end of the day she made life possible for my brother in ways I couldn’t. While she may have considered me a lost cause because of all of my problems at least she could help someone else. In a way she wasn’t the enemy, I just wished things had worked out different. Maybe in another life. Who knows.

I know things are not where I want them to be now, but one day everything will change for the better. It has to right?

Everything in it’s right place.

 

 

 

Broken.

This post has actually been a little hard to write into words. I’ve actually deleted, rewrote, deleted, and tried to wrap my head around everything. For a long time I felt broken, that no matter what I did nothing would take away that feeling. It was always about rearranging the pieces instead of putting them back together. Instead of finding ways to make myself better, I ended up just making things worse. When you’re broken you will do just about anything to make yourself whole. Even if it takes everything you have to make that emptiness you feel inside disappear. Without realizing it, I was attracting all the darkness because I believed that’s what I deserved. When you’ve reached rock bottom the only thing left to do is to wallow in the shadows until you’re strong enough to overcome it.

Being heartbroken is worse than any loneliness. I think that’s why so many of us stay in some fucked up relationships. Being sad and unhappy in a relationship is far better than ever being lonely. At least then you have a reason to be unhappy. When you’re alone, you’re left with your own failures. I never believed that would happen to me. The hopeless romantic that cried at the end of every love song, that believed that at the end of the day love will overcome everything. It’s weird to look back at the past and think “How could I have been so stupid”. That’s what I was. I was stupid, hopeless, and a complete fool for love. I believed that being unhappy would eventually lead to happiness. That for every dollar I spent, for every shopping bag full of stuff that I would feel better. Instead I felt more alone and miserable. In the mist of my own self absorbed sadness, he found me and I believed it would all disappear. It’s funny how people have a way of changing something inside of you. He didn’t make me feel better, he only made things worse.

Its weird how you can always remember the worst of people. After 5 years, I stopped remembering if he was ever a good person to begin with. 5 years ago he was my absolute world. I found everything about him just absolutely fascinating.  It was his manner of viewing the world and how he presented himself to everyone that made me believe for a long time that I loved him. The moment you make someone the center of your universe is the same moment they absolutely let you down. Just as the many people before him, he didn’t care about me. To him I was just someone that filled the void until something better came along, and for 5 years I allowed him to treat me that way. I allowed his own insecure nature manifest its vileness into my well being. Because of my lack of judgment and inability to see what was happening, I allowed him to treat me in the most horrible way. For years I allowed him to break my spirit all for the sake of believing that was love. For every time he cut me down, I hurt myself. For every time he told me I was worthless, I believed him. I believed him until my arms were raw and my stomach bled from the countless times I threw up my food to make myself what he wanted me to be. To him I was nothing, and to me he was everything. When you’re broken you want to believe that people want the absolute best for you. For the longest time I believed that’s what he wanted.

There were so many aspects of that “relationship” that were bad. So many things I hid from the world because no one would believe me. I was already an emotional person that even if I mentioned how bad it got people wouldn’t believe me. He had a way to switch on/off his flaws, I couldn’t do that. There were moments that would get so bad I honestly wished he would hit me. If he hit me it would mean that he truly hated me and it wouldn’t just be words that I kept inside. He never did but that never stopped his crusade of a venomous character. For every joke he told people, I lived with the consequences. I was never good enough, I was always too fat, too ugly, and I was a dead weight that was too large to carry in his lifetime. He never cared about how the words would affect me. He only cared about how much I would invest in what we were doing and how much he was gaining from it. As soon as his demands were met, only then could we honestly be together. I was a fool to believe him, but believing that being in a relationship would make the pain go away I did everything he said. I paid for every outing, paid for ever dinner, and took care of everything. In the course of those 5 years of an off and on friendship the only thing he ever gave me was a small soda and enough psychological damage to last a lifetime. For years I dealt with the consequences of that “relationship”. The countless of my friends that still remain friends with him, the times he contacted me when ever he felt broken, and yet I allowed it. I allowed this cycle of complete destruction stay because I deserved it. It was my insecurities that were driving a wedge between our friendship. It was all my unhappiness undoing our friendship and he was just trying to make everything better.

I believed that.

5 years was my expiration date. The first year I blamed myself. I thought without him I would die. That everything he said was right and because of that I blamed myself for everything. The second year I believed he would come back. By the third year I was finally coming to terms that I drove him away because he made no mistaken that it was everything I did that was wrong. By the fourth year, I was done. The fourth year was finally letting go of being broken. Finally realizing that I needed to let go of everyone and anyone that made me hurt. I was physically and emotionally exhausted from all my self destructive nature. I wanted nothing more but to finally feel free, to finally feel something instead of the complete emptiness I felt inside. For the first time I was able to hold my meals down without worrying about if people knew what I was doing. I was able to finally let the wounds heal and scar naturally. When you finally let go of all the wrong people, you finally allow yourself to heal properly.  Now at the fifth year I can breathe. I still have a lot of my insecurities but for the first time I don’t feel broken. I lost so much of myself searching for his level of perfection, I lost sight of who I was. When I finally let him go, I finally allowed all my broken pieces come back together.

You’re wondering what this has to do with my problems with debts. This had everything to do with it. I was so completely heartbroken that I found myself running from one problem to another. For every pound I lost I spent more money. For every time I didn’t want people to know about my well being, I invited people out and paid for everything. If I drew the attention away from what was really hurting, I wouldn’t have people worry about me. Because of my self destructive nature, I invited a variety of vile people into my life. I was ashamed to say I needed help and I was scared of people finding out what truly was happening. It was easy to pretend that behind every fabulous coat hid a tragic story. That every article of clothing I wore was a battle I was overcoming. I was hurting emotionally and physically and the only way to hide how I felt was buying everything. For every year he came in and out of my life, I found some way to try to make him stay. Every time he left, the cycle of self destruction would happen all over again. I couldn’t help the pain I was feeling so I had to find ways to deal with the sadness and failure of my life. I didn’t care how much it cost me, I just wanted a cheap fix for all my situations. I was wrong. I was wrong for so many reasons.

Our ending was the start of my new beginning. For the first time in years I stopped crying because he wasn’t in my life. While it’s taken everything I have to finally come to terms with what happened, I no longer break because of it. No amount of money I spend will ever bring anyone back. All of the sparkly things I buy is not going to make anyone stay. I know that now. If I could be honest about anything, is finally being honest with what happened. What we had wasn’t love. I was just so tired of being lonely that my desperation for love found the wrong person. For the risk of failing as I had with countless things in my life, I tried to make everything work even if that meant sacrificing my own happiness. To him he never saw my attempts as kindness, to him my kindness was my weakness that he used to his full advantage. I allowed him to do that. I allowed him to dictate my life the moment he said he only wanted what was best for me. I know better now, I know that people that vile will never hurt me again. As much as it all hurt, as many tears that I cried I know he was not the one for me. It’s funny how things change us. I am not the same person I was a year ago, let alone 5 years ago and I’m okay with that. Everything that once broke my heart doesn’t hold the same meaning as it once did. Its when you’ve lost everything that you finally regain the strength back in the light. I’ve stopped hurting, I’ve stopped blaming myself and best of all I can finally be honest with everything in my past to finally be free.

Through it all, I can live with that.