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@musingsof-a-brokenheart
I still dream about what could have happened that night four years ago. The way you hugged me. Your warmth and scent. The way your pupils dilated as you looked at me. I wish I could've acted on everything I felt, and I know you know that.
Old identity: I am the one who understands.
Emerging Identity: I am allowed to exist even when I don't.
For the last nine years, I've come up with extremely thoughtful gifts for my partner for birthdays/christmas etc and for the last nine years, he has waited until the very last minute to do any holiday shopping for me. I've given him gift ideas every year (to my disappointment, might I add), well in advance of the season/ birthday and still he puts in the bare minimum effort. If this sounds familiar, just leave. Someone else will come along and worship the ground you walk on. You won't have to give them a list because they will actually care to pay attention to you during the year. They'll get you the flowers, the balloons, and the all-expense-paid (planned) vacations. Make room for that person. Don't settle and make excuses for bare minimum effort.
The other day, I made the mistake of stalking my ex-best friend's social media. I went through all stages of grief in the span of two minutes. I want nothing but the best for her, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt seeing her do all the things I imagined us doing together.
I wish someone had protected the younger me. I thought I was mature for my age, able to be in a serious relationship with someone over a decade older than me. I was wrong. I wasn't mature for my age, and the things I heard about age gap relationships were right. As I got older, I started to realize that yes, he was flawed, and yes, I was naive. I wish I hadn't grown up as quickly as I did. I took on so much from the ages of 20-25 because I thought that's what love meant. I know now that I couldn't have been more wrong. My heart breaks for the girl I was. This journey isn't an easy one, but I am writing with the intention of healing that version of myself.
In need of a new start, a 28-year-old woman returns to tumblr to blog her feelings. Though she probably could've journaled them, something told her someone else needed to be able to read what she had been holding in for the last 9 years.
Welcome to her blog.