The instant I laid eyes on you, I could already feel myself falling in love. We spent so long laughing and talking on our first date that our waitress was kind of mad at us.

And we spent equally as much time outside, leaning up against the hood of my car after we left. I had no idea how hard I would fall for you.

I’ve always fallen in love quickly, didn’t really matter who with. But being loved the way you loved me had never happened before. The way you held me was all I had ever wanted, and it worried me how willing I was to overlook certain things. How fast I opened up to you. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy that everyone in my life noticed and commented on it and when they started doing it, I actually got really scared because I knew it was going to hurt when you left, I was right.

I can only remember one other instance of me feeling this type of pain over losing another person. It nearly killed me then and I feel it slowly killing me now. What’s worse is that I cannot find you, I cannot reach you. You’ve disappeared, but I wanted to tell you this so instead of just trying to find you and telling just you, I am going to tell the world. I want the whole world to know how easily I fell in love with you, how wonderful you are, your soft hands, the spicy smell of your cologne, your bubbling laugh, even those ridiculous nose strips you wore to bed.

I would have loved you for a long time had to let me. I keep hoping you will come back, or maybe I will run into you somewhere and be able to tell you how badly I miss you.

July was the worst month of the year, everyone knew it too.

I met you in the heat of summer. Sweat pooled on our skin, as we listened to the AC unit buzz. Our hands touching each others bodies like we were made of electricity. I fell in love with you the moment I heard you say my name for the first time. You filled my soul with a passion it had never once felt. Maybe I was just lonely, and you were bored. Both of us needing something from each other, but only one of us came away fulfilled. I am still hungry, starving for something I cannot have. I watch her devour the very thing I long for.

It’s been 10 years since we met. And I remember the moment like it was yesterday. You wore a dark grey shirt, blue sweatpants. Me in a sundress. A mismatched pair we made…but we were happy. Two stars falling out of the night sky. I think of you often. I wonder what it would have been like to stay with you. If I had never told you I wanted freedom. Would we have drifted further apart or would we have found ourselves building a home together. I find myself hoping you are unhappy without me, but also never wanting you to be unhappy ever. It’s such a shameful thing to be selfish, yet when it comes to you all I want is to be selfish and keep you all to myself. Once, I told you I loved you and you said that I didn’t know how to love. You were right, even though I hate to admit it. But with you I always wanted to try. Knowing that you are loved, should be a comfort to you, but knowing I am unloved by you only fills me with sadness. I did everything you asked, anything you wanted. And yet you still chose, her.

Sometimes I just want to ramble without worrying about sentence structure, or a specific topic… I feel like right now I’m emotionally drowning. There is something going on in my brain that just won’t quit screaming at me. Maybe it’s the stress of work, or the turmoil of the overturning of Roe V Wade, but lately I’ve been doing a lot of crying, and baking…and acting differently. I don’t know, something just feels wrong. I’m scared for the future, my future. I feel like in the last ten years I’ve gotten nowhere. I thought by the time I was in my thirties I would have things all figured out, hell at least have a savings account.. I’ve heard a lot of talk on TikTok about this multiverse, people make wishes for themselves in alternate dimensions… If the multiverse were real, I would hope there is a version of me who grew up not feeling like a burden, a version of me who was able to make friends and keep them, a version of me who didn’t hate herself so much, who didn’t drive recklessly in the hopes of becoming a piece of mangled flesh. I wish there was a version of me who was smart, and kind, who wasn’t always selfish. I wish there was a version of me who was quieter, gentler, better. The way my life has turned out has honestly been a train wreck, which is funny because I used to think my life in my early twenties was an absolute nightmare. I had no idea back then how good I had it. There is something to be said about wanting things you don’t have, or could never have.. but becoming someone who you never wanted to be is a seriously fucked up kind of torture. I used to want to be so much more than what I am…and trying to become that has not just been hard, it’s been impossible. I’ve never felt at home in my own brain.

I’ve been doing some housework and baking today, now I’m sitting here with Sammie watching Hell’s Kitchen. I had a dream once of going to culinary school. You see, I love to bake. I never really enjoyed cooking savoury things though, I can make a really good Twice Baked Potato Casserole that I learned to make while in a culinary course at DACC back in the early 00’s. But other than that? You don’t want me making you dinner. Baking cookies, brownies and cupcakes is what I love to do. It’s my happy place, when I’m stressed. And right now, I’ve felt a lot of stress. With the way things have been going in the world right now, we can all use some escapism sometimes. I’ve been thinking a lot about a poem I wrote back when I first started this site, and I wanted to revisit it. I’ve been thinking about the way I’ve started to view myself, my face, my body.. and I’m quite sad that I used to rely on a man’s opinion of myself to feel good about myself. I don’t need someone’s approval of how I look to think I’m beautiful… I should feel beautiful because that’s what I am, right? (That sounded too cocky, I don’t want to delete it though.) This poem didn’t have a title, and I’ve never thought about naming it ever…but here it is.

He calls me beautiful.
Says, effortless.
As if I grew up this way.
I shake my head, hiding my blushing cheeks.
It’s not that I don’t want to believe him, I doubt he would lie to me.

But, what I fear he will never understand is the years in which I have spent trying to dig my way out of my own skin.

All the late nights when my mirror would whisper it’s overplayed mantra of “look at you, there’s nothing here for anyone to see. Why not just destroy the whole thing?” So I tried, for a near decade I tried to pluck my leaf from our family tree.
I felt like a weed in a beautiful rose garden, growing too fast and still not near as perfect.
Now, he shakes his head and says to me, smiling, “Wow. You’re beautiful. So effortlessly beautiful.” Weeds can be mistaken for flowers from afar, that doesn’t mean they’re not beautiful in their own ways, up close.
And I think, I’m starting to believe him.

Well… it’s been 3 years since I posted anything here… and uhhhh… I’m sorry about that. Things just… were really crazy. lost my grandmother, a childhood animal friend, my sisters best friend, and my dog. Got a little nephew, about to have a little niece, got a dog, new job, gained like 20 lbs, found out I am NOT Bipolar, but have ADHD, and have a hiatal hernia. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ life is crazy. I don’t really write much anymore but I’ll try.. no promises though.