August was never our month

Sometimes you have to say goodbye to the one person you thought you’d spend forever with.

No matter how much you truly care about someone, sometimes it just doesn’t work out. No matter how hard you fight for someone, sometimes there is nothing more you can do when they look you in the eye and tell you they don’t know if they love you anymore. Sometimes after you give all you have, there’s truly nothing left. Loving someone isn’t always enough.

Humans are often motivated by fear; the fear of the unknown, fear of change, the fear of ending up alone. And that fear can cause us to settle. To resent the very thing we are trying so hard to keep. How many times does the universe have to show you, if you struggle so hard to keep something, it was never really yours to begin with?

“Loss of control is always the source of fear. It is also, however, always the source of change.”
–James Frey

And then there’s the fear of facing the fact that maybe we deserve better.

When my grandma passed away at the age of 84 this past May, my grieving grandpa said something that resonated within me: “Sixty-three years I spent with her, and it still wasn’t enough.” That is the love I want. That is the love I deserve.

In the end, there is only one person you are absolutely guaranteed to spend forever with, and that person is you. So when it comes down to losing someone, we all eventually have to trust that we will make it through. And trust, that in taking care of the person you do have to spend forever with, you will welcome love back into your life.

I won’t let you giving up on me mean that I should give up on myself.

Just because you don’t love me, that doesn’t make me unlovable.

I will repeat these words when the thought of losing you makes me sad. I will repeat these words, over and over again, until they become my only truth.

I am going to be fine. I will get through this. And I will be better for it. I will find somebody out there who treats me the way I deserve to be treated, who showers me with the love you never wanted to show me. And in a few months, when you realize [again] what you lost, this time I won’t be there.

the amicable split

It’s time to discuss a very real occurrence in the world. One that will creep up on you if you find yourself getting too comfortable with your mate: it’s called the amicable split.

A friendly break-up is always one of the hardest things two human beings in a romantic relationship have to face. You don’t hate each other; you don’t despise or resent each other–it’s that moment when you finally realize you’re just going through the motions, and no amount of shared history with another person can justify staying together, so the only other logical option is to split.

People want to be able to pinpoint some major flaw in themselves or in their partner when a relationship finally comes to an end. It’s easier to hate your significant other for cheating, or to hate yourself for not showing up in a relationship. It’s easier to have something tangible to blame. It’s easier than facing the fact that you might still love and care about someone without actually being in love with them. It’s easier than admitting you’re just not meant to be together.

But the truth is, settling for something–something that isn’t meant to be… that’s true torture. Remember kiddies, the opposite of love isn’t hate–it’s indifference.

Stay heartless, my pretties.


I always assumed since I started writing again, that some sort of heartbreak or major shitty life event would somehow give me all of this inspiration… that somehow, I would be able to use words to get through it, and be better for it. The truth is, I’m feeling pretty empty and uninspired. I feel broken. They say when it rains it pours, and I am in the eye of the storm.

It’s an astounding feeling when someone tells you they don’t want to love you anymore. It changes the way you view the world. It’s even more hurtful when it comes at a point in your life when (you think) you need this person the most. With this month comes a lot of change in my life. A few weeks ago, my biggest concern was moving out of the apartment I have been in for the past three years and into a place of my own. Now, between that, doing it without the person I care about most by my side, paired with a best friend who’s family is hurting and a world that has so many fucked up things happen daily, it seems so stupid how worked up I got over just the mere thought of moving out.

You try to do best by the people you love and care about. Sometimes, it isn’t enough. Sometimes, it’s too much. While I can take comfort in knowing I won’t feel like this forever, right now this empty feeling is all that matters. It expands in my chest, in the pit of my stomach, in my breathing. The only part of me that isn’t empty is my thoughts, but that’s the only part I actually wish was. This feeling deep inside of me clings to the hope that it can still work out; and this other, much more prominent feeling can’t even face the idea of ever letting anyone this close to make me feel this hurt again.

What I’ve learned most from this experience is that my mind and my body are more in tune than I ever imagined. The mental and emotional distress caused by this situation brings physical pain to me. And I appreciate that interconnectedness. As twisted as it sounds, that means I’m still a fucking human. I can use one to help the other, and maybe I can be whole again someday.