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You

It’s probably easy to be you.

A wild mess of emotions, scattered across your bedroom floor. Packed together neatly with makeup and stereotypical teenage girl music. Coffee to keep you focused while your mind stirs with frantic thoughts of self-doubt and surges of self confidence. TV shows full of drama to remind you that your life may not be as bad as you try to make it. Chick flicks with movie moments that truly don’t exist in real life, but you still crave them with the fibers of your soul.

You show your social media the world you wished to be. Easy, put-together and successful. But let’s be honest, you have no idea what you’re doing.

None of us do. This life is a everlasting flight of peaks and valleys. Some of us carry an umbrella for the rain, others play in the puddles. But you are different. You drag everyone you love into the rain. You dance, play and sing. Those songs etch into our soul as the remedy to our cloudy thoughts. Eventually, we dance too, with you. You cheerfully encourage every move and every song until we embrace, and kiss deeply amidst the falling water. You bring us to the highest point of emotion, the crest of the mountain of feelings in our hearts - And you vanish. As a thief, you vanish with the joy you welled up inside of me.

You found a lonely soul. You brought all the joy left in me to the surface. And you took it. Then you left me in the rain.

It’s been years since you left me in the rain. I eventually found my way out of the rain. I found shelter, and I huddled in a corner and shivered for what felt like an eternity. The cold was bone-chilling. You took every spark and energy I had left when you vanished. The rain was once a reminder that love can prevail, no matter how dark outside. Now the rain is a reminder that love can rip away everything you care about and leave you cold, wet and alone.

I have gained most of what you took from me. I have my life, I have my ability to love again and I have my joy. But you took my chance to dance in the rain.

I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that.

I’m still angry at you.

Today marks like 5 years since I’ve been with you. And it marks like 1 year since we even spoke. You’re married now. Man that feels weird to say.

I’ve been reading a book about self exploration and finding myself, and it told me to write down everything I feel about you, so I guess this is it:

I’m still angry. I’m still upset at how you walked out of my life when I was young and stupid and full of life and not ready to settle down. I’m still angry at you because I wasn’t ready to be destroyed. I wasn’t ready to sit in the dark for the next year and cry and hurt and watch you love another person who wasn’t ready to love you as much as I was. I wasn’t ready to forget how to tie my shoes or how happiness felt for months, as I drowned myself in sleep, the only place I could get away for a moment. I’m still angry at you.

You denied me the chance to love you again because you’re afraid of loving on the level that you did with me. Or that I would hurt you again. Which is entirely valid, even if I’d never do something like that again. Maybe you love this guy as much as you ever loved me, I don’t know. I don’t think you do. I don’t think you would have gotten married so fast if that were the case. It seemed more like a move to preserve the idea that you really wanted this. Similar to the way you jumped into the relationship with your last ex, this was no different. You rushed to get to somewhere comfortable so you didn’t have to face your demons. I don’t think you found yourself, but you wanted to be stable. And this guy provided you stability.

I don’t know this guy. This is all intuition. He may be an incredible man. If so, I’m glad you found calm. That’s what I wanted for you. For me. For it all.

I’m just so angry because you never would let your anger out to me. You would dance around the fire and try to ignore your anger. I just wanted you to yell at me. To cry with me. So we could war through this and accept that through it all, ugly or not, we still love each other. I wanted you to yell at me. To cuss at me and be angry but to accept that I was just a man who made a mistake. That was probably our biggest flaw, we wanted perfect so badly that we refused to accept when the other was acting stupid.

We were kids. We were dumb. I lashed out at you and you mistreated me. But I’ve never seen a bond as strong as ours. Well, I hadn’t. I now realize that you are not the sacred entity I once thought and there are plenty of high quality people in my life that I’d never want to lose. That doesn’t mean you aren’t still a huge piece of me, but it does mean I’ve snapped out of that dream state that our relationship had me in.

I’m just mad. We never had closure. You told me you chose security over happiness. You’ve asked me to come back around and bailed last second. We once had a conversation about being together again and your words were “I just don’t think I could handle that right now.” - To me, that says you’re scared. And again, rightfully so, but it frustrates me because I spent so much of my life growing up for you.

Somewhere along the way I realized that growing up benefited me in so many ways. I realized that I’m no longer growing up for you, but for myself. I wish you could meet me now. I’m such a different person. I’m still stupid and obnoxious now, but I realize when I’m being so. And I try to apologize. I’ve spent lots of time watching myself and trying to catch when I’m doing it. I’m still boring at times and I feel like I’m not good enough. I am still, in some ways, a damaged person.

But somewhere beyond that I’ve found peace in the fleeting idea of being away from each other. The foundation of stress and paranoia of never loving again caused me to overcompensate in such a way that I’ve ended up with a car, a house and a awesome job. I own a startup (goldenpeaksoftware.com) and I’m constantly reading and growing every day. A starved man knows no limits at the dinner table. Somehow in not being loved by you, I was forced to love myself. By that I do not mean being proud. I am not proud of being damaged, or frustrated, or good enough to have you back. I am learning how to love my flaws enough to want to change them. To love myself enough to want better for myself. I love myself enough to accept that I’m not perfect and to press forward every day in becoming a man that my kids, my wife and my family will love.

As you may see, I’m angry at you. But in very strange way. I want to yell at you for tearing me apart, and I want to hug you for helping me put myself back together better than I ever have before. I’ve always joked that when I reach my first million dollars, I will pull up to your house in my Tesla supercar, walk up to your front door, wait for your husband or you to answer, and give you a suitcase with 10 thousand dollars in it. Not for charity, or for spite. Just as a small token of thanks for taking away the piece of me that would give me everything I ever dreamed of. You gave me the ability to grow by showing me that I wasn’t invincible.

I now love a girl that accepts me for who I am. It didn’t happen the same way our love did. Our love was like someone dumped cold water on me to wake me up, and lo and behold, I woke up in Disney World. Our love was a screaming high that had my head in the clouds. But it was all at the cost of my life savings.

This love is different. It started as nothing. It was built from a small fire. It began as two damaged souls seeking solace in a scary world. There was no cold water. I never in a million years thought I’d still be with this girl. I’m loud and outgoing. She’s quiet and shy. I’m hard to please. She’s happy with what she has. I complain all the time. She’s always trying to see the bright side of things. We are polar opposites, but through the smoke and soot, she was the only one who would be there when I was alone.

I thought cold water was the only was to love. It’s been 5 years this girl and I have been dating. And I’ve never loved someone more than I have today.

I say all of this not to rub it in your face. There is no anger in my tone. I don’t know that I’m in love. Quite honestly, I have no idea what love is. I’m not sure anyone knows how love is truly supposed to be. It just kind of happens. Stumbles into your life, loud or quiet, quick or slow and simply sweeps you out to sea.

The only thing I really know is this: I love you. And I love her.

I’m angry at you for ruining my life and never giving me closure. But I love you for giving me the best thing a ex and once best friend could ever give me.. You helped me find myself, and ultimately, happiness. Be safe, Lil One.

I remember reading your blog three years ago, (almost every day haha) and I have to say, I'm so proud of how far you have come and how you're going after your passions(: you inspire me to do the same x

Bring back the old Tumblr. Bring back the old me. Can we go back in time and live it all over again?

It's sad...I was talking about you to a new friend of mine. Telling about the memories I shared with you and what we used to do when we hung out. I miss it. Sadly we only talk every now and then. Talking about you makes me miss those days. -__- miss you!

Then text me.

843 939-1635

Please give me tips on how to be happy, because I'm trying, and I'm failing.

Just love everyone and everything. Look for the good in people. Look for the fun in things. Rekindle old friendships. Spend time in silence every day. Eat foods that are good for you. Sing as loud as possible when nobody is around. And just remember, when it all falls down... You’re not alone. The rain soaks into the beautiful earth and grows flowers. The sun will be back. Enjoy the dim times. Just float. The dim times are times to reflect on your life, not regret. Life is good, my friend.

where are you? who have you been loving?

Far, far away.

Hey, take care of yourself, okay? You deserve it.

I left this in my inbox forever. I’ve always wondered who it was from. I’m trying, old friend. Honestly.

I miss looking at some of the stuff you would write on here. You need to get back to this life. :/

Sadly, my life involves lots of chasing success now. I own a small business, I am a writer, attempting to get my literary agent to publish my first book, I am also in very deep thought over lots of tolling emotions. I wish I had this place to vent. But I can no longer sit on Tumblr for hours and roll around in my dark emotions. Tumblr became a blog where I could vent for hours about the frustrations of life, talk to my followers, enjoy my peace and absorb life by myself. Now, Tumblr just seems like a distant memory.

But trust me, I miss you guys as well.

Pockets crammed full, people think that I’m a pack rat. Invest in your girl and watch her fall like the NASDAQ. Couldn’t fit my school supplies with thirty grand in my backpack. Green all on my body like I’ve been playing in the grass patch. Money making monster, wall street swag and red fangs. Find a whip, I like it, crash it, pay it off with spare change. Gold falling from the ceiling, gotta walk around in steel toes. Get a workout throwing money, On my Hashtag Gym Flow. All about passin’ limits like I’m walkin’ through a storm door. So many goals, feelin’ like I broke the scoreboard. I stay in the loop, you would think I was a toucan. Walk in, all epic, slow motion, like a moon man. Swag glamorous, got me feeling like a drag queen. But I still get them digits like I’m starter on the math team. Road to success, I decided to take the back way. Keep your 2 cents, every day here is tax day.

"My heart's a stereo" reminds me of you

How did you even get to my ask? I killed my page. I wiped it all. Nothing left but my posts for me to remember.

Can we just take a moment to accept the fact that I may have the coolest supervisor ever?

deepbreathsandcoldsweat

I'm a renegade. I'm a rebel. I'm Childish Gambino.

Fibers in my consciousness have nostalgia that smells like you. I sometimes brush my fingers against the feel of something that puts me in the room with your memories. They’re so faded and against the grain that it’s hard to make out. Sometimes, I’m not even sure they’re your memories.

Sure, I miss you. But.. Man, I don’t fuckin’ know. I can’t even find your ass. What am I doing again? Nevermind.

-------------------------------

skinfilledthoughts

Tonight I listened to a voicemail you left me three months ago. In it, you told me to go fuck myself. I still remember that night. I still remember those words rolling off your tongue so gracefully. I remember wondering how someone so beautiful could be so cruel. Two months ago I called you at three A.M. I expected you to ignore it, or to send me to voicemail; those were two of the things you were best at. You answered and I felt my heart begin to race; you probably thought it was because I missed you, but truthfully it was because I didn’t expect you to answer, and because I really had to pee. I asked you how you were and you sat there quietly and confused. It was like you forgot that I existed and that I was once a part of your life. You told me “fine” and I smiled. That was the last conversation we had. I made sure to let go of you, and every negative word that was said, in a peaceful way. Fast forward two months, and I still wonder how you are. I still wonder how your dog is and if you’ve seen any good movies lately. If you ever heard me say this, you’d probably blush like you used to whenever I said something sweet. You’d probably think I think these things because I still love you, that I still want you. But that is not the case. You see, six months ago I was jumping through hoops to please you. To make sure that you were happy before myself. To make sure that I was the one causing your happiness. But it is not six months ago. It is now. And now I simply remember you as a person I gave my soul to. A person I told secrets to at 4am and fucked to feel a sense of closeness. A person I loved, yes. But it is not six months ago. It is now, and now I miss you. I miss the way you called randomly just to ask how my day was. I miss the way you seemed to care, even if you didn’t. I miss the friendship and the secrets and the stories. And maybe one day things will be different. Maybe you’ll call me on a Tuesday afternoon and ask how my day was. These are the things I think about before my eyes slowly close and I am finally rewarded with sleep. But for right now? Go fuck yourself.

(via sileron-evol)

Too fuckin true

(via silent—surrender)

holy shit this

(via jaayyaayye)

Something happens when you fall out of love. Everything hurts. Days get longer. Waking up isn't so easy any more. I would say it's worse than death. The thought of seeing that person regularly for years and reliving the death of your love... Over, and over, and over again. It sinks in most when you realize that nothing excites you anymore. Dating and it's sweet escapes don't give you chills. Roses and letters don't get you anxiously nervous. You don't get cold feet any more because you're not scared to mess it up. The one you love is gone. Messing up is okay. You messed up the best thing to ever happen to you and lived. Why does anything else matter? The worst of it is when the person that broke you wants to savor your friendship. Nothing can send tremors through your bones like the name of your guardian angel, calling you in the middle of a dead sleep. You'll stare at your phone and race between answering and ignoring until your heart breaks. Answer or not, you spend the next hours immobilized between satisfaction and anger. Anger for not answering, anger for answering, anger for missing them, anger for them not missing you... It spends it's time flicking at the insides of your brain, heating your soul into complete meltdown. One day you collapse. You call your lost lover, taking your first brave step into loving again. As your foot plants firmly on the bridge of decision, the wooden planks snap in half and you tumble endlessly down the cliff of uncertainty. It never happens the way you thought it would. Your flames and burning desire shatter and turn into hatred, fear, self-pity... Depression. Everything hurts. Days get longer. Waking up isn't so easy any more. I would say it's worse than death. The thought of seeing that person regularly for years and reliving the death of your love... Over, and over, and over again.

Life is beautiful. So is my girlfriend.

light0fthewest-deactivated20220

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