Becca Martin

As happy as I am for them, it’s also hard to always be happy for someone else when you just want to be happy yourself.

I just keep to myself, I just beat myself up between my own two ears because to me that is easier. That is the way I operate. I’m not saying it’s healthy and I’m not saying it’s good, but it’s what I do.

Thank you for rejecting me. It might have hurt, but it didn’t hurt as much as silence. It didn’t hurt as much as staring at my phone with a lump in my throat wondering why I haven’t heard back from him.

You wouldn’t throw away your favorite vase because it got a few smudges on it, you’d polish it up and take care of it before putting it back on display for the world to see.

When every ounce of my body is telling me to pack up and leave again, I want you to ask me to stay.

“I know what I’m getting when I’m with him and I’ve accepted it. I might not be really happy, but is anyone?”

If you taught me anything from leaving it’s that I need to stop believing in the idea of what could have been. I need to let go and move on, without you, just like you did without me.

Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride and accept that you’d rather be happy than right.