One of the worst feelings in the world is when you’re looking at someone with so much passion and that person is standing there unaware of your existence, how can someone be so close yet so far?
I still miss you sometimes. Maybe I miss you all the time. But, this isn’t a love letter to you. It’s a letter for me, to remind myself to keep on healing and to keep on going.
And perhaps the point is to not go back to what once was, the point is to move forward to what can be. Redefine the love, the friendship and make it deeper than ever.
I do love you. I know I never said that enough. Or at all, I guess. Did you really need me to? Didn’t you know? I’m sure you did, I’m sure you knew. You had to.
Our refusal to hold men accountable for cheating seems like an offshoot of our tendency to admonish women for being sexual—to slut shame them for the very same behavior that earns men “player” status.
Now, as I finally close the chapter of my life where the plot of the story was all about you, I want you to know that I am thankful for all the times that we were together. Those years never run smoothly.
For so long, I have spent my short twenty-something adult life pretending that I’m the bravest woman ever. I have pretended not to care, to be aloof because everyone strives to not give a shit about anything these days.
I was a shitty husband because I promised her in front of hundreds of people we knew that I would love and honor her all the days of my life. In good times, and in bad. And then I didn’t do that.
“Life is too short to play games. If you love someone and want to be with them, then go get them. Deal with the mess later. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” – Haley James Scott
Sometimes, we’re just in pain. Sometimes, we just ache. Sometimes, there isn’t a bandaid to put on our gaping wounds. Sometimes, we just bleed.