Unfriend

I think the thing I find most disturbing about this heartache is that I'm finding I actually don't relate to a lot of my friends I thought got me. 

It's easy to feel connected to girlfriends when you're getting dinner and going shopping and everything in your life is happy and exciting and fun. 

It's actually really unnerving to realize when you're hurting that a lot of people not only don't understand, they're judging you and your choices, they're diminishing your feelings, and more than that, they just think you're wrong. 

I've learned a really critical lesson this year and that is I actually don't like sharing the raw vulnerability of my heart with most of the people I know. 

I finally understand why people don't open up. 

Why they're not transparent and vulnerable and honest. 

It really fucking sucks when other people open their mouth and make you feel tiny and insignificant because who you are is so vastly different from them. 

I've started so many blogs this week and stopped writing them because I don't want to share my thoughts. 

I don't want the "friends" who read this and judge me but never reach out and actually see if I'm okay, to get to know any more of my heart. 

Because honestly?

Fuck you.

Fuck your judgement and your condescension. 

I have felt more comfort from strangers than I have from the people who should know me. 

And how the hell is that even possible?

I had a girlfriend who knew she hurt my feelings last week completely ignore me and then say she was "giving me space" because everyone knows I'm the type of person who doesn't want to get conflict resolved and why should you reach out and apologize when I could have space?

Fucking space. 

What a joke. 

That was her lie for I didn't want to deal with you.

See, the thing of it is, folks. 

Friendships are not forever. 

Nothing is. 

But no one ever wants to talk about the expiration date on female relationships. 

Because that would be, oh I don't know, unpleasant.

But I'm going to change. 

And because I'm changing I'm going to try new things and make new decisions. 

And when you judge my actions you judge me.

And I don't actually want to change who I am for your level of comfort. 

I don't actually have to take your advice because you are not actually qualified to give it. 

Who the hell do you even think you are?

How come when someone's hurting people don't just say, that really sucks, I'm so sorry, do you wanna go get ice cream and tell me all you're feeling?

No, they're like, well I told you something like this would happen and what did you expect and let it go and find another cock and I'm so fucking mad at everyone I could literally bitch slap them in their smug faces. 

Do you know that I have not felt this condescendingly judged in my life since the year people found out I'd had an affair with a married man?

Why do people think they're so together and above everything?

You're not together you're a fucking fraud. 

And I haven't done anything for fucks sake!

And the fact you're trying to make me feel bad when I already feel bad is disgusting. 

I will totally be okay if you just stalk my social media and occasionally like the photos of trees I post and we never need to actually spend time together again. 

Because I would never make you feel small for trying something new. 

I would never make you feel wrong for putting yourself out there and living a life grounded in hope. 

And I would rather have three friends I can genuinely be my fucked up self with than continue to collect people who don't accept me when I'm broken. 

just say goodnight

They want me to forget you already

A part of you does too

Look ahead 

You have to let me go

And you want me to remember what you've done 

but if I focused on all the hurtful things the men I love have done 

I'd never giggle when I saw a rainbow 

and I want to be that little girl 

that woman 

who has the hope of the stars reflected in her eyes

And I let go of your hands because you asked me to 

but sometimes we say things we don't mean 

and your eyes told me you wanted to hold me a little longer 

but your arms forgot how 

because they carried too much pain 

And I know we don't know 

but a year ago I believed 

when no one else did 

in nights around that river 

I sent you love 

and I wished I pleaded in those stars and so much time passed 

and you stood before me wanting your lips on mine 

again

I knew

It was still there

Always there

Even when you let go forget try to forget not feel think remember feel think 

No

If I work hard enough it will go away

Will it now?

How?

If you ignore the truth it's still the truth

And it's still in you inside deep within

The whisper

My name

So now I'm the only one again who believes in all that's here 

and it's lonely 

So fucking lonely without you 

without those eyes 

Those eyes that so love looking into mine 

Drowning in mine

My body was your life raft 

and your guilt carried you

Willing you to push me away 

So you could suffocate in peace

Dear one

Everything is blurred now and you can't receive my kisses anymore 

And I can't hold you and lessen the pain

And I can't smile and light the room so it's brighter for you to see

I can't do anything or be anyone

And I'm already some transparent ghost

A hologram of what could have been

Has always been

Waiting for you to reach out and hold

And I don't care

No one believed me a year ago 

And no one believes me now

Not even you

And it's lonely

So goddamn lonely

Being the only one who believes

In anything 

But I don't care

I don't fucking care how fucking wrong you all think I am

Even you

I am the guardian of this heart

And I will run and scream and cry for it and it alone 

And dance naked in my living room every night

Like the night you played your favorite song in all the land

Because I must

And I float 

And if your arms ever remember

How whole they felt wrapped in mine

Just call 

Whisper my name

And it will be

It just is

Like the beauty and the pain and the fantasy 

This fantasy isn't 

It's always been your reality

So wake up.

Thus with a kiss...

I glanced at my phone.

2:04.

And then suddenly I wasn't waiting anymore.

I had to leave.

I left the bar with a determined energy.

Whenever he'd call it was usually around 2:30, which meant he'd probably be home from the bar soon.

It felt like I flew there I got there so fast.

I pulled into the driveway and saw him walk past the window in the living room.

He's home.

What are you doing? I asked myself.

I ignored myself. 

I walked onto the porch and started knocking on the window.

He was standing directly in front of me in the next room.

I could see him talking.

He didn't hear me.

What are you DOING? I tried to ask myself again.

I started knocking on the door.

Was I knocking softly on purpose?

You're acting crazy.

I don't care, I finally replied to myself. 

I started knocking on the window again. 

He looked right at me.

If this was my life as a romantic comedy there wasn't a Peter Gabriel love song playing in the background. 

There was slow, creepy, horror movie music playing. 

He looked partly terrified and shocked and more timid than I've ever seen. 

I was so angry. 

Rage was what had driven me there. 

I was standing there demanding an answer.

He slowly opened the front door and stood on the porch looking at me.

What happened? I asked.

Um...well....he slowly started.

And I could feel the anger swelling in my chest.

What night did we talk? Was it Wednesday?

And I held my breath in fury, he doesn't even know when we talked? I thought. Fuck.

Yes, I tried to answer calmly.

Well, he slowly continued.

And then he told me what happened. 

And I just listened. 

And it wasn't anything I'd ever imagined. 

It was worse.

And he was a wreck.

And I just listened. 

And he talked. 

And tears formed in the corners of his eyes and he was so remorseful. 

And I felt the rage in my heart slowly dissipate and my breathing slowed. 

And then all I felt was love. 

And I didn't know what to say there wasn't anything to say so I wrapped my arms around his neck and just held on.

It's okay, I whispered.

And the next hour was sad.

And there was a moment I looked down and saw these ridiculous socks with blue monsters and hearts on his feet.

Those are cute, I pointed out.

Yeah I get fun socks every month. I belong to a sock club.

No you don't. 

Yes I do. 

No. 

Yes. 

What?

I've had socks on every time we've slept together. 

What?? No you haven't. 

And then there was a moment he seemed angry.

Why are you being mean to me? 

I don't know. Maybe I don't know how to react to you. I don't know if I should just cry and say I'm sorry. I don't know if we should sit down and share funny stories. I don't know if I should yell at you and tell you to get off my porch. I don't even know what to do with my hands. I look like I'm praying right now. I don't even pray. 

I took his arms and wrapped them around me and buried my face into his chest.

And he told me things he still didn't understand, those nights he'd open up with me and tell me things and not know what it meant. 

And how I still scared him.

Yeah but you kind of love it. 

And I kind of hate it. 

I thought that's why men climb great mountains and go to war. 

I don't climb.

And all I remember is that I kept playing with these white buttons on his shirt, his black and white striped shirt and I kept touching the buttons on his chest, like it was keeping me grounded so I didn't float away.

You're so handsome.

I got a haircut today.

I'm so happy to see you.

And I held his face in my left hand.

You said we were gonna meet for a drink.

That's not a good idea, he said. But you've been drinking tonight, haven't you? He asked softly.

I nodded slowly.

And I didn't realize right away but there was a moment he seemed to be saying goodbye forever.

And I knew there was nothing to be done, that fate had stepped into our lives and separated our hearts intentionally, and I hadn't known what to say, so I mostly hadn't said much of anything. 

Except my eyes. 

My eyes had been pouring love into his the whole time we stood there. 

It's hard to look at you, he'd said. 

But then there were moments he couldn't look away.

And our eyes seemed to be singing all the things neither of us could say.

And those moments we just stood there staring at each other in silence, those felt the most honest either of us had ever been.

And I guess there are some times you don't need to say anything.

A look is powerful enough.

And as I tried to accept what he wasn't saying, and imagined the reality that this might be the last time we ever saw each other, I simply asked if I could kiss him on the cheek.

And he must have sensed what I was doing, he must have felt the farewell with which I intended the kiss to be, because he suddenly wasn't calm anymore.

And he shook his head and was pulling away from me.

I'm freaking out I need you to say goodnight say goodnight please say goodnight.

And as I continued holding on to his hands not wanting to let go, not wanting to say goodbye, wishing I had said something more, something beautiful and poetic, wishing I could just stand with him there all night, I saw the urgency in his eyes, and quietly said, Goodnight, and let him go.

And he went inside and I left. 

And I was so sad. 

And he was moving in the morning. 

And if I wasn't so fucking crazy I probably wouldn't have shown up at his house at two in the morning. 

And if I hadn't gone I may have never found out the truth. 

I was gonna call you, he'd said.

And I knew something was wrong. 

I knew something had happened. 

And I'd texted his friend to see if he knew if he was okay.

He doesn't know me, he'd said. 

They don't know me.

And I knew. 

I'm not gonna be better tomorrow, he'd said.

I know, I'd replied.

And there was nothing I could do.

And nothing more I could have done. 

But he'd made the decision to change his life the day we'd talked on the phone. 

And that had to be a good thing. 

Me in his life had to be good.

And now I wasn't gonna be anymore. 

And maybe never would. 

And one day I'd learn to be okay with the pain, the heartache of losing a soul mate.

But maybe he didn't really want to say goodbye. 

Maybe he wouldn't let me give him one final kiss goodbye because he knew it could never be goodbye. 

Just goodnight. 

He'd offered me a drag of his cigarette and I inhaled deeply. 

That first night together we shared a cigarette. 

It has always been a fantasy of mine to share a cigarette with you after sex.

You look ridiculous, he'd said, smiling.

I was wearing the same red dress I wore tonight. 

I remember, he said.

And here we were, months later, sharing another cigarette, like some symbol to the end of this story.

Two cigarettes. 

One hello.

One fare thee well.

Did you mean anything you ever said to me?

And he'd softened.

If it was nice, I meant it. You're a wonderful woman.

And for the first time since meeting him fifteen months ago I hadn't wanted to sleep with him.

It was the first time I'd ever felt so connected to him on an entirely new level.

It really was something altogether different. 

And I discovered this just as it ended. 

And it was over.

At least this chapter.

And I didn't know if there would ever be another one. 

But there was something in his eyes, something about the length of our gaze, that made it hard to believe all this, this passion and pain and fervor that never left us, was leading up to this quiet, somber, summer end. 

sitting on my carpet

I'm sitting on my carpet. 

They cleaned them this week and I moved the furniture out of the way and some of it's still in the kitchen so I'm sitting on the carpet and the room feels big and vacant and my cat is sitting on the carpet too. 

The lights are off but the sun is shining outside the open window and the sky is a vibrant blue and the leaves are rustling in the trees and there's life outside. 

But I'm inside and I'm sitting on the carpet. 

I'm sad and kind of hollow and my heart is heavy and I feel isolated and I know tomorrow won't be as hard because yesterday was actually easier but right now I'm sad and I'm sitting on the carpet. 

And everyone thinks they understand and they try to help but their platitudes feel vacant and ingenuine even though I know they don't mean them to.

There's a rainbow after the storm and there are happier times ahead and a window is opening as this door has been slammed in my face but I don't care about the rainbow I exist right now and right now I'm sitting on the carpet. 

And they don't know and they don't understand because just because you read some book about relationships doesn't mean you understand the way his eyes looked as he spoke to me. 

And just because you think you've figured life out because you're not single you have a partner you know love you know it's out there doesn't mean you don't lie awake when no one is watching and look at him sleeping and secretly wish you were somewhere else. 

No, no one actually understands, they think they do and maybe they try to but they are limited from their own life experiences and jaded scope so no one knows but me what this is this ache this feeling this pain.

And right now I'm sitting on the carpet. 

This too will pass and there's plenty of fish in the sea and time will tell and who knows what the future brings but right now I'm sitting on the carpet. 

Right now I don't know what to do and I'm lonely but I don't want to be around anyone because it's more lonely to be around people who think they know the answers than it is to actually just be alone because at least alone I can have my thoughts and no one is judging me because my thoughts are mine and I don't think they're wrong I think they're honest. 

My friend rocks her baby and she says I think I know what's best because I spend 24/7 with him and why don't people trust that I know what my baby needs?

And I think I know what's best I spend 24/7 with my heart and why don't people trust that I know what I need?

So right now I'm sitting on the carpet. 

There's nothing I can do and my heart is so heavy and I wish there was a way I could bottle this light I could pour this love into a vial and deliver it to him so he could drink it and all would dissolve into his bloodstream and work its way to his heart and give him strength and make him smile and I wouldn't even have to see or hear I'd just know. 

Because I made him smile, he was crying and he said you made me laugh, because sometimes we're good for each other, broken people and hopeful people, and sometimes people cross paths with you because they have to and everyone hears me but no one really listens. 

So I'm sitting on the carpet and I'm not sure what to do but I know my heart is smart. 

I'm not a fool I have intuition and I knew something was wrong and it was and I knew to go there and I got the truth and sometimes I wish I didn't share my heart with the world because it thinks it knows what's best and no one believes I know my heart better than them. 

And I don't want to tell you what happened I know what happened and I know why he had to go inside and I'm tired and I wish there was someone else who truly did understand. 

But we don't because we're not the same and maybe that's the point and maybe that's partly why I write. 

And if I could never write if something happened that forbade me from writing that ceased my creative outlet and my processing and the joy that stems from stringing words together everyone would say find a way write anyway fight the circumstances that hold back the cry of your heart. 

Pursue your artistic dreams. 

Defy the odds that are stacked against you. 

So how come when I love and life circumstances try and prevent that cry in my heart everyone simply looks me in the eyes and tells me I'm wrong?

How can one cry of my heart be right?

And another so strongly be wrong?

I'm sitting on my carpet with the lights out and my cat now sleeping and I'm thinking they're wrong. 

Because my heart has always known when to listen.

in 5 years time

I had this thought today when I got home that I wanted to write something to you. 

And then I thought, Fucking Christ, Woman, people are probably already fucking sick of reading about my annoyingly tragic He said he was crazy about me and then I never heard from him again story. 

And then my next thought was, I don't actually fucking care. 

Cuz you're not gonna call me at three in the morning again. 

And I'm not gonna send you a photo of me again. 

And this is all there is. 

My letter to the world. 

And YOU.

You weren't mean to my friend. 

The last time she asked you what was going on with us you told her to fuck off, do you remember that?

And then six months later when you approached her and asked what was going on with me she resisted the urge to tell YOU to fuck off. 

Cuz wouldn't that have just been the perfect line in this story?

No, she didn't, she talked to you. 

And then I stumbled into the bar that night. 

The night you decided you wanted to date again. 

Which already feels like a long time ago. 

And maybe that's a good thing. 

So I thought maybe since you talked to her a few months ago you might talk to her again. 

But you didn't. 

You didn't say anything. 

And Mother said, That sounds like him.

But as I listened to her recount what she said and the one sentence you said, all I heard was

He's unhappy too.

And maybe this makes me a terribly fucked up person, but that made me feel better. 

To know you're suffering. 

Cuz you know, I really fucking am too.

And it's not my fault. 

I didn't do this. 

And I don't actually want an apology. 

I don't want a phone call. 

I don't want to show up at your new bar and have you intensely stare at me in delight and fear and bewilderment. 

I want the next time I see you to be so entirely epically different than all of this shit that it doesn't even feel like us. 

When you finally realize, when you're sober at 2am and thinking of me like you always do, when the weight of how you've hurt me crushes your heart, when you remember how beautiful my eyes looked looking up at you so sincerely flooding you with light, when you're feeling brave. 

I want you to think of a way, some intensely romantic, over the top, obscene way to communicate your heart, your remorse over being such a damn fool, yet again, over and over making the wrong choice where my heart was concerned.

I want you to contact my best friend whose number you now have, the one person, other than me, who believes in the good in you, in spite of you, the person whose witnessed our chaos, who captured my favorite photo with you, and I want you to tell her it's time. 

Time to do something, not say anything, because all you've ever given me were words, words with no action, no follow up to ground all the romance I'd think later was a lie. 

But you told me you've never lied to me. 

You just haven't been equipped to do everything you said. 

So the day you are, the day your self love overshadows your self hate, the day you realize you are deserving of real love, not the kind that would push you off a building, the day the image of my face is pressing on your heart, that's the time I want you to do something. 

I don't even know what. 

But you will. 

And this is destroyed. 

This hope, this trust, this desire for a continuation of our story. 

It's ended. 

I can't even dream of your caress anymore. 

My subconscious wants to run away from you. 

But there will come a day, likely a long ways from now, a day we shouldn't even still be thinking of each other. 

But we will. 

We both know we always will. 

And by then, this failed story, this romantic tragedy will have gathered cobwebs around it. 

And the pain won't be present anymore. 

Because we both will have healed. 

And this time, this time you smile at me and look upon my fancy face will be entirely different. 

Because it will have nothing to do with our past. 

We will be different. 

And we'll have grown. 

And forgiven. 

And I don't know, I don't know if you'll be strong enough to let me have your love then. 

And I don't know if the other men who've been in my bed will have stepped into your corner of my heart. 

But there is a chance, a small miracle of a chance, I could let us try.

I don't know who I'll be then yet. 

But you said I was right. 

You had nothing to counter me. 

You're in love with me.

Because I've been right this whole time. 

And you're never wrong. 

Which is why I was so right for you. 

Because with me, you were. 

Wrong. 

For the first time in your life I knew. 

Not you. 

And one day you will be ready for a partner who pushes you. 

Challenges the very things you believe. 

But by then, I will be even stronger. 

And it will take a warrior to have the strength to hold onto my heart. 

And until then, I am pursuing this adventure alone. 

Because I don't need you.

But you, dear one. 

You will never have peace until you've won me back. 

So do the work. 

Fucking dig deep. 

Self love. 

Then Resa love. 

That's all you need, dear.

You've over complicated the simplest thing.

sabotage

There's this scene in He's just not that into you that I absolutely love and it's such a small moment but it's just so fucking real and it's exactly how I felt last night. 

Jennifer Connely finds out her husband has been lying to her, after all the shit she's already endured and tried to forgive and she takes the mirror from the wall and smashes it into a hundred pieces in a rage. And then realizing she now has to deal with that, throws her head back, the way a child might when you tell them they have to go to bed, and then quietly goes to get a broom and dust pan to clean up the mess she just made. 

It's brilliant and it's accurate and I fucking love it. 

I got home yesterday and decided to clean. 

I had to clean. 

I hate cleaning. 

But I'm so sick of so much shit, I am like, buried in stuff, I can't breathe, I don't enjoy it. 

And I looked in my closet and said, I just want all of this gone. 

So I started with the floor, with the dirty clothes and threw them in a pile in the hallway. 

And then the shoes. 

So many fucking shoes I never wear I don't even want to wear I DONT LOVE YOU ANYMORE. 

And I made a pile of shoes in the living room, so many pairs, until there were fewer shoes in my closet than in the donate pile. 

And it felt good. 

It felt good to be purging my life. 

And I started on the clothes that were hanging and the clothes that were folded and I was shocked by how easy it was to take shirt after sweater and pants I FUCKING HATE PANTS and SHORTS??

When the hell have I ever worn shorts??

And soon I had bag upon bag and my closet was looking emptier and emptier and I was on a role and I didn't fucking need any of it.  

I didn't need these THINGS I didn't need HIM I was strong and resilient and determined. 

And then I stood in front of the closet one more time, the empty black hangers scattered in crazy directions, the pristine dresses staring at me I hadn't even touched yet, my cat sitting in a new corner he'd never sat in because it had been buried by shoes for years and I threw my head down the way Jennifer Connely threw hers back and I suddenly felt crushed by the feeling of, I don't want to do this. I don't want to deal with this. I don't want to deal with any of this. 

I don't want to have to purge my life. 

I want to already be done with this part.

I want my apartment to already be clean and I want him to fix this and I just fucking want what he said would be mine. 

I want to take you somewhere new, somewhere neither of us have been, somewhere near my place.

I WANT MY FUCKING DATE YOU PROMISED ME YOU ASSHOLE

What the hell happened?

Where did you go?

Did you get in a violent accident and lose both your hands so you had no way to dial a phone and fucking call me??

What EVENT could justify making plans, making OVERTURES about all your feelings your fucking feeeeeeeelings and then disappearing AGAIN??

WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS TO ME 

fucking fuck FUCK FUUUUUUCK

And then I layed down on my bed and I sobbed. 

I fucking wept. 

And I realized I am never going to hear his voice again, that voice that called me five minutes after talking to me on the phone for hours just to say I just wanted to say I can't stop thinking about you and then I remembered I still have a saved voicemail, a saved voicemail from fourteen months ago because I could never bring myself to delete it and I hit play and his soft voice crooned in my room Hey Love, it's Matthew..and I started crying harder because this message was a YEAR. OLD. It was so old and it felt like the exact way he talked to me a WEEK AGO a fucking week it was all still there, still amorous affectionate intensity and everyone thinks I'm MAD they think I'm crazy because of YOU because you've consistently been inconsistent with my life with your presence not in my life your shadow never giving me peace. 

And now everyone's like, let it go, Reese, there's plenty of fish in the sea, Reese, you're better off without him, Reese NO OK NO IM REALLY NOT IM FINE YES I WILL BE FUCKING FINE BUT IM NOT BETTERRRRRR IM NOT BETTER OFF IM LESS OFF IM WITHOUT A REALLY FUCKING RARE INTENSE INSANE CONNECTION I'm not better ok? So please stop saying I am. I'm not. I'm not better I'm without. I'm without my hearts greatest desire, a desire that has stayed in me and will never leave me. 

So stop.  

Fucking STOP.

Ok?

Please?

Please stop telling me how much 

B E t t E r 

Off

I am.

I'm not. 

I'm fucking sad. 

And confused. 

And I set this boundary because I KNOW I can't live 

Like this. 

I did this. 

But I can still HATE it even though it was my idea. 

I can still WANT him even though I will never. Have him. 

I don't want to numb the pain I just want to be through it. 

I don't want to fuck someone else I just want to be alone. 

I want every man to go away to leave me alone to stop lying to me about all the things they will never do and never be and I just want to be fucking left in peace. 

He will never be strong enough to look me in the eyes and hold my hand and just stand on that fucking bridge and be scared. 

And last night I had a dream we were at his bar and he came up to me and I recoiled. 

I jerked my body away from his touch and I glared at him and I said nothing. 

And I walked away.  

The man has even destroyed my dreams of him. 

And fucking hell. 

He could have at least left me with that. 

Love means cutting you out of my life.

I've made a lot of stupid decisions in my life. 

A lot. 

My taste in men is questionable. 

In general my life decisions are questionable. 

Sometimes I'm not really sure I should be allowed to claim myself as an adult because my life choices often call that into question. 

My co worker dubbed me last week "the office soap opera." 

Someone else pointed out that's better than being the office bitch, so I guess there's that. 

But the one GOOD thing from making so many poor life choices is that I have actually learned from them. 

One would fucking hope, Jesus.

And one mistake I definitely made that resonates with my spirit is after I broke up with Kai. 

I ended things-it was the first time in my life I ever broke up with any man I'd loved-but I then continued to spend time with him constantly for well over a year afterwards. 

So I never really chose my choice. 

And what's worse, I ended things because he wasn't treating me right, and the more time we spent together "as friends"--friends who occasionally fucked, as friends who dated are wont to do--the worse his treatment of me became. 

There was one time in particular, I remember, we had been hanging out and he asked me to leave so Elena could come over, a girl he'd been dating, to see if they could work things out. 

He sort of threw me out of his apartment but said I could come back later. 

And yes, I am ashamed to write this, I left and went to some coffee shop to wait for his text like some loyal puppy and once I read She's gone I headed back to his apartment. 

Ugh. I could punch myself.

Then, and yes that isn't even the him treating me bad part, he was all fucking moody and sad because she dumped his ass and decided he kinda wanted to go to Home Depot to get parts to build a (I honestly don't even fucking remember, some sciencey nerdtastic pretend he actually knows what he's doing accelerator) and I wanted to help or make him feel better --because that's what you do when you love someone-- and since he NEVER HAD A FUCKING CAR I drove him out to the burbs and spent like, a fucking hour? Maybe longer? As he wandered around the depot getting his stupid parts and once I drove him back to his place he spent the rest of the evening ignoring me, working on his project and when he did talk to me he was rude and snapped at me and basically treated me like shit. 

Now.  

Did I separate myself from his toxic behavior and lack of appreciation for how loving I was?

Of course not. 

I continued to stick around. 

I continued to endure his treatment of me like I was some dirty old homeless dog he occasionally fed his leftovers to. 

I even let him move in with me when he had no place to go until one day I finally lost it and screamed at him in my living room that he was such a loser and he moved out that weekend. 

I always felt that while he did treat me terribly I ALLOWED HIM TO.

And that somewhere along the way he lost respect for me because he watched me stay and allow myself to let him treat me that way and I literally watched him fall out of love with me and how can a man love a woman who respects herself so little to stick around to be treated like garbage?

And I've ALWAYS felt like part of the demise of our relationship was my fault. 

And I NEVER want to be that girl again. 

Love doesn't mean enduring lousy treatment. 

Sometimes love means leaving. 

So that's what I decided to do today. 

I thought about Matthew's behavior and how violently inconsistent he's always been. 

I thought about how fucked up it is to call a girl in the middle of the night and talk to her for six hours and tell her you're in love with her and then not show up on your date. 

And I thought about how being ghosted by him Yet. Again. when he's already done this, let me in and then pushed me away and then let me in and then push me away and then let me in and then push me away and it's actually really disgusting how many times he's repeated his wretched behavior. 

And I remembered Kai. 

And remembered being the girl waiting in the coffee shop for him to say I could come back over. 

And here I was years later waiting for some other boy to send me a text to say it was ok for me to come back over. 

And I thought, NO.

No to all of it. 

No to his inconsistency. 

No to his entitlement to my body. 

No to his bad behavior, his bad decisions, his unloving actions, his lack of appreciation for how wonderful I am. 

There are consequences for our actions and his choices now include a life without me.

Not out of spite or anger or trying to prove a point. 

But out of love. 

Love for myself. 

Love for him. 

Love for the fact that he could never love a woman who endured such mistreatment and I could never love a man who continued to treat me the way that he has. 

So I've ended it. 

I opened my heart and my life to him, I offered up complete forgiveness and a clean slate, and he gave me silence. 

He ghosted me. 

He did the one thing he knows hurts me. 

Intentionally. 

Because he's broken. 

And unable to love. 

And I don't actually have to forgive him anymore. 

I'm grateful that this all happened. 

I am. 

I learned the truth to a story that's haunted me. 

And I passed a life test and learned that I have more self love than a need to be loved. 

And that feels incredible. 

I will walk away from this and I will heal and I will love again. 

And I will love deeper than he will ever experience. 

And I will even be surprised at how quickly I am able to forget him. 

And he. 

He will never stop thinking about me. 

And he will continue to be haunted by our story. 

And he will always regret how terribly he treated me, the woman who scared the shit out of him, the woman he could never attain. 

Now is his painful mistake. 

And when he has a chance years from now, I hope he'll have learned from it. 

And feel proud of himself for not treating the most important woman to his heart like she's insignificant. 

I hope for her sake he does learn. 

And maybe her happiness will have a tiny bit to do with the pain I'm enduring right now. 

That would make me really happy. 

And in spite of all he's put me through, I even hope he's happy too.