Delete her number.
Stop ringing her. Stop messaging her. Stop making excuses to see her, to drop by her place.
Erase her name from memory. Remove yourself from her life, more completely than you would like but as completely as she deserves. Move on, so that you can allow her to also move on. When you close your eyes, you don’t get to see her face. Not anymore. You don’t get to think about her lips, the warm glow of her skin when she rests next to you, or how she squeezes your hand in her sleep. You are not allowed to remember the smell of her perfume, that she only drinks mint tea (with two dollops of honey), or that she loves you.
She loves you.
She has been in love with you for too long.
So, forget how she says your name. Forget how she calls your name. Forget how she screams your name. Forget that time you got sick and she stayed up with you all night, letting you lay your head in her lap and holding a cold compress to your forehead. Forget how her hair feels in your fingers. Forget how she looks in your sweatshirts.
Know only that she existed at one point in your life, but relinquish all hope that she could exist at another point — sometime in the future that you are unwilling to specify because you don’t know what you want. Yet. It is not fair for you to swoop in and out of her life as you choose. It is not fair for you to say that you are satisfied with “things as they are” and you will have time to “figure it out” later. Let her stop investing emotionally in you. Let her pour that love and care into the people who deserve her.
Don’t tell her that you think about her all the time. Don’t tell her that it bothers you to hear about her with other people, but that you’re willing to understand as long as she likes you more than them. Don’t tell her that this isn’t the right moment but that there will be a right moment. There is not going to be a right moment. She shouldn’t have to wait for the right moment.
Don’t tell her that you can’t handle ultimatums, that you don’t like the idea of finally adding finality to your relationship — whatever still remains of it.
What you are telling her is that you want to keep her on as an option, that you are taking her for granted, that you want to know she will be there, that you can depend on her at the end of the day. When you find that no one else has stuck around or that those who have are less interesting, less thoughtful, or less doggedly loyal to you.
Doggedly loyal to you.
That is what she has been to you, for you almost as long as you have known her: a constant emotional crutch, the guarantee of stability, a safety net while you reach out to grasp objects that sparkle and shine far greater than she does. All that glitters is not gold, haven’t you heard?
She is fire. You are ice, and you are afraid that her slow burn will smolder your cool, hard demeanor. That’s what has driven your decisions, your actions all along: fear. You are a coward. You are a hypocrite. You are terrified to let her go, but you are afraid she is too good for you, that she could drive you wild, that you would choke on her flames. That she is too much for you to handle right now.
But if you choose not to love her now, you can’t choose to love her later.”
Let me sob while this is so accurate to my life right now. I’ve literally never read anything so on point. Especially the last three paragraphs. From “What you are telling her is that you want to keep her an option” to “But if you choose not to love her now, you can’t choose to love her later.” I’ve reread that whole section at least five times now.
It’s going to be a darn good weekend. :D
This speaks to me on a deep and personal level.
Started writing in my new journal today. Val got me the perfect journal and I’m super super excited! I can feel all of my creative juices flowing and I feel so many feelings and thoughts coming out!
Pookalicious definition with that hamburger meat up her nose.
Cause when you’ve given up
When no matter what you do it’s never good enough
When you never thought that it could ever get this tough
That’s when you feel my kind of love
I always miss my Val. I went out with her around 12:30 and it’s 6:30 and I just got home about fifteen minutes ago. I’m so glad I got to see her today. We went everywhere today and I’m happy that I got to spend so much time with her. It was wet, rainy, cold and just plain out nasty today, but I’m glad it was spent with my Val Val. <3
i’m so possessive over people but like a quiet possessive because i dont want to be clingy so i kinda just angrily stare at people from afar
Natchez - 10 yr old Florence died in 1871. She was extremely frightened of storms and her grief-stricken mother had Florence’s casket constructed with a glass window at the head. The grave was dug to provide an area, the same depth of the coffin, at the child’s head, but this area had steps that would allow the mother to descend to her daughter’s level so she could comfort her during storms. To shelter the mother, metal trap doors were installed over the area the mother would occupy.
Jesus, as portrayed in the Gospels, is our leader.
As a fearless, gentle teacher he pushed against nearly every religious expectation of his time. He cared for people with love that exceeded social norms, often discrediting his ministry in the eyes of pious leaders. His purpose was not to build a political kingdom, but to bring about spiritual renewal.
In young zeal, Millennials are running after this life: one of deep fulfillment in loving and caring for others. And we’re not afraid to break the rules.
For many in the church, the issue of social good is a theological stumbling block. In critiquing the Millennial generation, they argue that social action does not provide for people’s spiritual needs. That instead of passing out tracts and sharing the Gospel, Millennials are content with merely meeting physical needs.
James Dean circa 1953.
You’re sixty three years old and you’re still raising hell like you’re 30. Its a freaking shame and you make me not want to even stay here some nights. I put up with this crap growing up and living in your house and yet I still have to hear it. My Nana (my great aunt) doesn’t do anything to you. She does everything around this freaking house and yet you still cuss her like a freaking dog. Ugh. I hate being here