You get lost in crowds. Like, literally. You’ve gotten separated from your family and, because of your short stature, it wasn’t easy to locate you.
Why do we feel the need to put on our headphones when we feel discouraged? Why do we shut our doors when we feel upset? I challenge you to make more eye contact, listen harder, remember more names, go on that random blind date, meet up with those co-workers that you “seemingly hate” but don’t really know anything about, get dinner with that friend of a friend who is in town for the night, say yes to the themed party even if you have nothing to wear.
Loneliness is a feeling that transcends any and all language. It is a language in itself, and everybody is fluent.
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.
Just because it’s walking a different route to the office making us a shaky mess and not an immediate, tangible threat doesn’t make the emotion less justified. Emotions are allowed, emotions are okay. Even the bad ones.
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.
“Awkward dates are something to laugh at.”
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.
Sometimes it’ll be obvious why it didn’t work out, but not always – you can ask yourself why, but try not to get too hung up on it.
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.