Last night we were in a room full of couples and the entire night you kept telling me to get comfortable, that it was okay to stretch my legs over yours, that I could sit closer to you. I remember thinking, at one point, when she looked at us and laughed and smiled at the way I was jokingly positioning your hand above my shoulder, that she probably has no idea the way you actually feel about me — that we don’t work, that you have no interest in dating me.

I remember wishing you’d just grab my hand and I could maybe pretend, for a minute, that I actually knew where I stood with you; wishing that, in that instant, you’d just lie to me, even briefly.

Just friends. We’re better off that way. That’s what you keep telling me. Those two stinkin’ words kill me every time and I can’t even comprehend it, because I never intended to feel this way about you. I never intend to feel this way about anyone, but when I do, it always seems to be for the wrong person.

I think reality just set in. We’re never going to have that. Our relationship is never going to be easy. No matter what I do or say, it’s never going to be the right thing. It’s always going to be an uphill battle. We’re better off as friends. If you can even call it that. You’re right. You win. And I need to just accept it.

So I liked this guy last year. Harbored a slight crush on him. (Why yes, I am twelve years old when it comes to guys… Awesome, right? No.) But I was shy and I had a pretty negative mentality about it.

He’d talk to me, and I’d get butterflies, and on a few occasions (out of politeness, I’m sure) he’d invite me out, and I’d think, “What if he could like me too?” But it’d be a thought that was instantly squashed by, “There are so many pretty girls here, why in the heck would he bother with me?” And that was that, I’d never pursue it farther than small talk, even though it drove me crazy not to really, truly get to know him like I would have liked.

This continued on for the entirety of his stay here — me liking him, and never having the courage to say so, or at least to initiate anything beyond, “I’m good, how are you?” I went and stayed a couple months in Seattle, and he went back to school, and I figured that would be the end of it.

And it was.

But I saw him a couple months ago, and that nervousness came back. I’ve been working on being more outgoing; trying not to let past failed relationships work their way into the back of my mind, trying to remember that I’m not who I was, and that I can be whoever I choose. So, I was working up the nerve to talk to him. You know, like a normal person would. Only, I never got the opportunity to because I never saw him again.

My sister said she saw him yesterday, talked to him for a few minutes, that he was leaving this week, and my heart sank. I had been there only a few hours before, and if I’d stayed only a few hours more, maybe, just maybe.

But, it wasn’t so. So maybe that means it’s just not right. And maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe I would have talked to him, and stumbled over all my words, and turned into a big, blabbering idiot. Maybe I would have tried to put myself out there, and then I would have been rejected.. But in a nice way, like I’m sure people like him try to do. You know, soften the blow by turning it around to make the issue about him. That’s an unfair statement to make, though. I’m sorry.

Mostly, I’ve been wondering, since yesterday, how many opportunities have been laid before me that I’ve failed to take? And why am I consciously putting myself in positions that I’ll always wonder, “what if” about? What if I’d gone out those few times he asked, what if I’d been more social and confident and secure? Because how differently could this have turned out if I’d just said what I wanted to say to someone who may have been everything I’ve ever hoped for?

Who knows? I sure don’t. I never even gave myself the opportunity to know. And what a shame that is. I’m sure I’m missing out.

Back in January, I started talking to this guy. It wasn’t serious, but I developed feelings for him, more-so toward the end of that whole ordeal. During that time, some friends wanted to set me up with this other guy, but I didn’t want to meet him. I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time, and I didn’t feel the need to meet him, because I was already invested elsewhere.

Well, I ended up meeting him anyway, and it only confirmed what I felt I already knew — I liked someone else. But, hey, I’d humored everyone, right? Wrong. Everyone was so adamant that this guy was “perfect” for me, and the pressure really put me off. So, I tried to distance myself emotionally from anyone connected to the situation, including the guy I was being set up with. I couldn’t talk to him without it being misconstrued and I didn’t know how to approach any of the issues I felt were popping up.

Things ended with that first guy, and it hurt. I hadn’t liked anyone, not genuinely, in so long and he was so different from anyone I’d ever met before. Maybe not so different, after all. But it still hurts. It’s going to bother me for a long time, the “what ifs” that creep up when little things remind me of him (like when someone called a girl “sweet cheeks” in front of me the other day — a long, stupid inside joke — or I hear a song by Tool or APC, or someone mentions Montana — where he originates from — which happens more frequently than you’d think). But I will get over it in time, and soon enough, it’ll be just another smudge on my timeline; something that was important to me at one point, but less so later down the line.

So I’ve been hanging out with the guy I was being set up with more. Not on anything more than friendly terms. I don’t jump into relationships with people I don’t know, and I don’t hook up. So I’ve been very clear, in my opinion, about who I am and where I’m coming from. I thought, if anything, this guy and I could become really great friends as we continued to get to know each other.

A few weeks ago, he bought me flowers. It was one of the sweetest gestures. He said to me, “I don’t think there ever needs to be a reason to buy someone flowers.” That’s way cool. So, I softened my position a little bit. I started asking him to hang out with me more often, because I thought, this is a guy that I want to know, regardless of how our relationship develops.

But it’s been a slow process. I don’t open up to people very often, and he just so happened to enter my life as I was recovering from the emotional beat down I’d just taken from someone else, which has made getting to know him a much slower process than ever before. I can’t talk to men like I used to, because it seems like every time I let my guard down, every time I let someone in, they leave. I don’t know how many more people I can handle walking out of my life. By choice.

We hung out a couple weeks ago. We watched a movie, he took me home. He told me afterward — he told everyone afterward — that he wanted to kiss me. I told him he wasn’t allowed to. I told him I wasn’t 100% sure how I felt. I told him that I’d never kissed anyone that wasn’t my boyfriend, and that we weren’t on a level at which I could feel comfortable referring to him as, and vice versa.

I was honest. He respected my decision.

We hung out a couple days ago. We laid in bed listening to music. Opposite sides of the bed, mind you. He got up and left rather abruptly that night, which threw me off. I had been told that if I didn’t sleep with him, he was going to “move on and get it elsewhere.” That he only liked me right now, because he couldn’t have me. Honestly, that doesn’t bother me. I’m not going to sleep with him, I haven’t even kissed the dude. So if he was so offended by my stance on sex and hooking up, then so be it. I’m not going to bend in those ways and I’m pretty adamant about it, to anyone that asks. If he had such a problem with it, I’d tell him to kiss my ass; on to the next one.

But he didn’t have a problem with it, and that wasn’t why he left, and we talked it through the next day, and all was well. Or so I thought.

Someone felt the need to take my words and twist them to others. They said that he had forced himself on me, that I was uncomfortable, blah, blah, blah. Long story short, that didn’t happen. I never said anything close to that. But the fact that that was being said, offended mutual friends, who’ve had long-standing drama with others that I know. So, I’m pissed off. I’m angry that now I’m being dragged into something that I’ve spent a long while doing everything in my power to avoid. I basically don’t talk to anyone for that reason alone. I cry a lot because I’m bottling tons of emotions just to avoid being grouped in with all that unnecessary BS. But I apparently don’t have that right.

For the record, I don’t have one bad thing to say about this guy. He’s great. I’m glad to have met him. If anything, I’ve only tried to remind people that I’m not dating him, nor kissing him; that he’s not my boyfriend, nor close to being such. And only because I feel like I have to be very blunt about it, because we’re constantly surrounded by kids. Kids who don’t really know what actually constitutes dating and boyfriends and whatnot. And also so as not to confuse anyone about what’s actually happening. All this is, is me getting to know someone new. And if others could just take it as such, there’d be a lot less animosity.

So I’ll just go back to not talking. To anyone. I’ll just continue crying every night because my stress level is through the roof and I have no other outlets. I’ll just leave it here on this stupid blog, as a reminder to everyone that, HEY, I don’t have a damn thing to hide. I know who I am. I’ve always known that, even when I didn’t know that, ha. And I don’t have any problems saying so. And anyone who doesn’t realize that, can fuck off.

I’m nice and sweet and timid to a point. But don’t you dare tell me who I am, or what I’m all about. Because nobody on this earth knows better than I do.

I’ve been wanting to learn to ride for a while now. I’ve been on a dirt bike before, on private property, a couple years ago, but I’ve never had the courage to take it to heart.

I went down to Owens (Cycle Inc.) the other day, and I found a bike I want. But I couldn’t put up the money for something like that without knowing how I’d be able to take it. I’d end up kicking myself in the ass if it ended up sitting in the garage, collecting dust.

That all changed today.

Today I randomly hopped on a motorcycle and went for a ride. I was asked if I wanted to go, so I said yes without any hesitation. But inside, I was terrified. I was shaking, my stomach was in knots. I was anticipating it going horribly wrong, all these crash scenes playing out in my mind. I was thinking to myself, “What did I just get myself into? Did I really say yes?”

I put the helmet on, hesitated for a second before I climbed onto the back of the bike. My heart was racing out of my chest as we reached the end of the gravel road and I realized we’d be taking to the street. In the back of my mind I was thinking, “If we crash, all I’ve got is this helmet.. Oh. My. Gosh.”

Then we were off.. And my fears melted away. The knots and butterflies subsided. It didn’t feel like I thought it would. It almost felt natural.

I felt free. Sounds so cliche, but it’s true.

I couldn’t think of anything else. All my worries went out the window… Am I ever going to be able to make it up to this guy or is the damage done? Am I ever going to experience love? My best friend is going back to Hawaii in a few days, and then I’m back to being a loner.. How am I going to get through the icky, dark parts of life without her? Has the drama in my life subsided? Are the people I care about getting the help they need? Am I strong enough to continue to deal with others’ hardships? Can I handle the turn my life is taking? Is it too much? Am I cut out for this? Am I doing the right thing? Should I be in school right now? How am I going to start back up my business in the fall? Did I take too long of a break? Has all my hard work gone down the drain? Are my antics inadvertently hurting someone? Am I someone that I like, and that I’m proud of?

It all left my mind. Briefly, but it was nice. It was good. And I thought, for a moment, this is why I’m okay with taking risks. This is why I make dumb moves that don’t always pay off. Sometimes it does end up being worth it. It’s wonderful when it works out. And I’m okay with not always playing it safe. I’m okay with making an ass out of myself in front of a guy I like, and I’m okay with saying the wrong things and I’m okay with the way my thoughts don’t always reach my mouth like I hope for them too. I’m okay with quirks and flaws. And most of all, I’m definitely okay with you deciding that those things are not worth putting your time and effort into.

At the end of the day, I want to be surrounded by people that are willing to take a risk on me. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. Sometimes I hurt feelings. Sometimes I get my feelings hurt too easily. I don’t always look before I leap. I don’t always think before I speak. Sometimes I’m too quiet. Sometimes I care too much. Sometimes I pretend not to.

You have to be willing to find that out for yourself. You have to be willing to take a risk on me, for the payout to be worthwhile. And I’ve done that. I’ve done that with each and every person currently standing in my life. And I’m so grateful for all of them. I’m changed forever because of them.

A bike ride showed me that.

You know what else it showed me? I need one of those suckers for myself. I’m making it official. Pink helmet and all.

In poor taste yesterday, after a trip to Walmart to find something quick for dinner, I posted a status update saying something like, “How do such fat and/or ugly girls land such good looking dudes? I never had this issue when I was fat..? Is it because my personality sucked or because I didn’t give BJs?”

I didn’t regret posting it until right after I shut my computer off and went to bed. I laid there for an hour debating whether or not I should get up just to delete it. Sometimes I think I’m funnier at 3AM than I really am.

That really wasn’t an issue for me in my younger years. I didn’t have good looking guys pursue me, and I wasn’t confident enough to pursue them. The ones that did pursue me, were usually older by around 9-10 years (at fifteen) and looking back, were incredibly creepy, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I had one boyfriend as a teenager, in a relationship I sabotaged because I was insecure that he was “too good” for me.

Though I really do try to find something beautiful in everyone, I do fail. I am not, and I will never profess to be, perfect. Maybe these girls aren’t thin, maybe they aren’t “standardly pretty” (and who is?), and I don’t know their relationships — for all I know, he could be a real jerk — but the only truth is that that was my insecurities that surfaced last night. That was me being bitter. That was me standing in a checkout line by myself, witnessing two people who seemed to genuinely enjoy each other, and wondering if I could ever feel confident in my relationships with others. That was me wondering what’s been so wrong with me that I have to work so hard to keep these issues at bay; that I have to constantly remind myself that I’m not who I was. That was me wondering why I’ve been single the last two years, not particularly by choice (though it has been the last ten months), but because I fall for and open up to the wrong men.

I don’t measure my friendships by appearance. I don’t see my friends or family in terms of weight. I don’t judge their relationships. I don’t make assumptions. I don’t purposely say hurtful, mean things to get a rise out of others.

But last night I did. Last night I was on a mission to offend. Regardless of how it made anyone else feel, I can assure you, it made me feel the worst. It made me feel ugly. It made me wake up this morning thinking, Yeah, that’s why you never landed the dude.. You’re mean, and that makes you ugly.

I’m only human. A ridiculously flawed one at that. And I have to work every single day to keep the negative thoughts about myself dulled.

You can lose weight. You can have plastic surgery. You can wear makeup, get your hair cut, buy a new wardrobe. The hardest change, the most important change, is the internal one. That’s the real battle. That’s the war worth waging.

Nobody is better than you, stronger than you, braver than you, more intelligent than you, more confident than you, more beautiful than you, as long as that’s how you feel about yourself. I didn’t have the courage to recognize that last night. I do now.

He watched her from the crowd, in a pew toward the back of the chapel, as she made her way down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of red roses, her father beaming proudly by her side. She looked stunning in all her bridal glory, in white from head to toe; her mermaid-style wedding dress clung to her curves in all the right ways. He noticed her smile as she made her way to their section. Her pearly whites didn’t leave her face for even a second, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what she wanted.

Years prior she confessed to hating “stuffy church weddings.” She wanted to be married on a cliff top overhanging the beach off the coast of northern Oregon. She wanted a simple dress, something that would flow in the breeze and swirl around her when she danced. She wanted a mixed bouquet of pale pink roses and white Asiatic lilies; roses were overrated in anything other than an accent and red was too bold. She didn’t want this many people in attendance, either.

“Immediate family and a few close friends, maybe,” she’d say. But this church was packed to the brim with people. Some of which he recognized, but mostly he was surrounded by a sea of strangers. A lot of them were probably even strangers to her.

She reached their row and immediately caught his eye. He wasn’t sure, he wasn’t close enough to know for certain, but her eyes seemed to well with tears. He tensed as his breath caught, and he placed a hand over his heart as he exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tinge of pain he felt. It was like the fluttering of butterflies you get in your stomach when you’re nervous, only it was in his chest, and it tickled in a wounding way rather than a fleeting one.

She nodded ever-so slightly and refocused her attention to the man that awaited her ahead. Anyone else would have thought they were tears of joy, but he thought he knew her better than that—or at least hoped he still did. And then she passed him, and as much as he wanted to reach out to her in that moment, to pull her back and hold her close to him, even just one last time, he didn’t. Just like that, he let her go, knowing if he held his tongue just long enough, she’d never look back, not even once.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to join this man, and this woman in holy matrimony. Not to be entered into lightly, holy matrimony should be entered into solemnly and with reverence and honor. Into this holy agreement these two persons come together to be joined. If any person here can show cause why these two people should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

It took everything in him not to speak, not to tell her right here, right now, what a mistake he’d made. Not to shout it to the entire room what a mistake she’d be making. Not to profess his love for her on this day, on the last day, in the last minutes it could make any difference in. But knowing the phrase was mostly a formality and could probably have been omitted, he bit down so hard on his tongue he could taste blood. And the seconds felt like hours, and he clenched his fists so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

He thought back, for a moment, on all the times they’d shared together. How expressive her eyebrows were, and the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed. He could have her doubled over in pain from laughing so hard. He remembered the family trips to the shore, and how at one point in time, he’d been her father’s favorite. The dog they once shared was at home, his home, probably chewing on the leg of a coffee table, but recalling how much she cried when she said goodbye to him made him smile slightly, knowing he’d held not one, but two pieces of her heart.

She’d wash the dishes if he dried them, and she’d grab his face between soaking wet rubber gloves and bite her lip, daring him to kiss her. One too many times, he’d reach over into the sink, scoop up a pile of bubbles when she wasn’t looking and smear them across her cheek. She’d feign offense, but splash him with dish water, which sent them into an entirely new frenzy of trying to drench each other.

He’d kiss her on the forehead any time she cried—when her grandmother had grown ill, when her canary had died, when she got into her first car accident. He’d hold her to him and tell her it was all going to be okay, and she believed him.

He thought of all the times they’d made love under the stars, the way her hips would rise and fall against him, her hands on his chest and in his hair, or clutched in his. The way her entire body tensed beneath him when he brought her to climax. Each time, without fail, she’d giggle afterward as if she were embarrassed, but he loved her for it.

The marriage talk came three years later. They had it all planned out, down to every last detail, all he had to do was pop the question. She waited, patiently, two more years for a question that never came. And when he couldn’t give her a reason or an excuse as to why he wouldn’t marry her, she left. She cried, and then she packed her bags, and she left.

It broke his heart, but he never told her. He never went after her, either.

“What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. With the power vested in me by God and by the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

With that, it was done. He’d missed the entire ceremony. All the things he could have said, maybe even should have said, he’d never have the chance to again. He looked away as the groom went to kiss his bride.

She approached him at the reception later in the evening, said she was surprised he came.

“Well, I wouldn’t have missed this. But I didn’t plan to stay so long. I should really be leaving.” He set his drink down and looked up at her from his chair. She was illuminated by the twinkle of rope lights and paper lanterns. In this lighting she looked even more beautiful than he remembered, and he stood.

“One more dance? For old time’s sake?” He asked, placing the tips of his fingers against hers.

She agreed to one more dance.

And dance they did. One full song, neither fast nor slow, but somewhere in-between. Their movements were fluid and in-tune with one another, but in the spaces where she once fit against him perfectly, she would no longer allow herself to fill. And mostly that was alright, he just stared at her, taking her all in one last time, wanting to ingrain this vision of her in his mind for life.

As the song faded out, she pulled away from him, but he stopped her. He stepped close again, closer even still, lowered his lips to her ear and said the last five words he’d ever need to say to her.

“You make a beautiful bride.”

So I wanted a serious conversation. But serious conversations always lead to me being sad. And the thing about talking is that I’m too entirely swayed by words. Actions are supposed to speak louder, and they do, but words are my weakness.

Tell me I’m beautiful. Tell me there’s just something about me; I’m like no one you’ve met before. Tell me I make you nervous. Tell me I’ve changed you for the better. Tell me all those sweet little nothings, and I believe you because I take them at face value. Throw in some wit and charm, and I’m yours. Inexplicably, undeniably yours.

Then do me the great disservice of ripping my heart out of my chest, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. All dramatic-like, slow motion, the works. Because actions always prove more telling and, as it turns out, words are not as significant or sincere to others and promises are apparently meant to be broken.

It happens often. Words. Fucking words.

And so maybe having a dialogue, at least a meaningful one, has become difficult. You speak, I listen, I fall… And it’s not mutual. Or there’s someone else; some invisible girl I was competing against and didn’t know it. Or you’re not over your ex, aka, still sleeping with her. Or it’s too intense. Or I’m crazy, or you’re crazy. Or the distance is too much. Or there are too many irreconcilable differences. Or you just want to be single, but you liked leading me on until it came time to make good on all those pretty words. Whatever the reason or excuse.

I’ve been so fragile the last two years, so damn sensitive and scared. Putting myself out there to the wrong people and damaging myself even worse, making it more and more difficult to get over each time, making me miss things and moments and people that aren’t mine to miss.

And it really is just that difficult to say, “I like you, and I don’t like it.”

But then it’s 3:55AM, and all I’ve got are words.

It’s so disheartening and strange when someone you once considered a best friend, who knows all your ins and outs almost as well as you, becomes a total stranger. Isn’t it? Because at one point in time you couldn’t imagine ever feeling that close to another human being. No one “got you” quite like they did. And it’s at that point that the thought of loving someone else just as much, if not more, is totally inconceivable, because how could anyone ever match this?

It’s barely noticeable at first, the changes set in so slowly. An every day dialogue between the two of you lessens from seven days to five, and then three, and then maybe you’re talking once a week or once every few weeks. The change is so unbelievably subtle that it almost feels normal, but then the contents of your conversations change too, don’t they? Suddenly you’re no longer sharing the intimate details of your life with each other, but the bare minimum; divulging just enough to make it feel like there’s still a common thread between you.

The phone calls come in once a month, once every few months, but eventually they stop altogether, and again, so slowly that you only begin to notice a year later. Suddenly, someone else has filled the space they used to reside. Suddenly, someone else knows your ins and outs better, and while it can’t be the same, it’s comfortable; it’s different and new in all the right ways. Suddenly, you’re looking back wondering where the time has gone and how you could come so far from where you started? Questioning what you could have done differently, if it’s for the best, if any remnants of the relationship you once shared to each other is at all salvageable, and then convincing yourself that if it was truly worth it, they’d put in more effort. Because anyone that wants to be in our lives, will prove their worthiness by making the conscious effort to be in it.

And that’s where anything salvageable becomes lost. That’s where we get stuck in our own delusions of self-importance and pride — waiting on the other person to make the first move. We wait so long sometimes that there’s no coming back from it. Too little too late. The damage is done.

The older I get, the further the distance becomes, the more time that passes, the more this becomes all too clear. The more I realize that I hold the power to fix all this, to reverse what feels, ultimately, inevitable. It’s not inevitable.

But in the same regards, the older I get, the further the distance, the more time that passes.. The more I realize what relationships just aren’t worth it anymore.

And unless you’re at that point — the point of no return; the point of realization that what’s good is gone — I suggest you decide what’s more important to you: your friendship or your pride? Pick up the phone or open a new Facebook message and take matters into your own hands. Reverse what time, and distance, and silence has wedged between you. Friends, exes, distant family members, it doesn’t matter. Reconcile.

So today is Valentine’s Day. The day that excites couples and leaves singletons like me feeling a little empty, maybe even slightly bitter. Haha! But there’s a lesson to be learned and an experience to be had here.

I’ve only had a valentine once. Every relationship I’ve ever been in ended right before or started right after. The last time I had a valentine was in 2008. He bought me a necklace, and at the time, I was so enamored by this guy that it truly filled my heart with joy. He didn’t have to get me anything, just having him in my life was good enough. Back then, he could make me smile like no other; it was unmatched by anyone or anything.

I won’t lie, as nice as it would be to get flowers, or chocolate (some ladies from church actually did bring chocolate, those sweethearts ♥), or jewelry.. As fun as it would be to go on a romantic date, or be snuggled up next to someone I adore.. I simply don’t have that this year.

I could be bitter. There’s plenty to be bitter about. The thoughts that have crossed my mind, if spoken, would leave the impression that I am. I could be jealous of all my close friends who are in loving, committed relationships on this day. There was even a moment today that I teared up, and I could have let it spoil the afternoon.

Instead, I mustered up all the energy I could on all three hours of sleep I got this morning, I cleaned the house, and I baked a cake. My first cake, ever, completely from scratch.

I don’t know how it’s going to taste, I’m definitely worried about it, and I know it sounds silly, but I accomplished something new today. It’s those little things that make me happy. It’s the smallest and simplest of achievements that make me smile, but not only that, they push me to make even bigger accomplishments. A cake today, maybe I’ll be a hosting a dinner party with my very own home-cooked meal in the next six months, who knows! Haha.

Don’t be sad today. Don’t be bitter on this day. Don’t let loneliness encompass you. ‘Cause you’re not alone. I’m here, and we’re in the same boat, and some days it seems like we’re fighting the current just to stay afloat.. But we can rough any storm and make it back to blue skies, and it starts with those tiny, little things that put a smile on your face.

So whether you’re single or not, do something that makes you happy today. Watch the sunset, call your loved ones and let them know you care, write a song, watch a funny movie.. Bake a cake, haha! It doesn’t matter, treat yourself. Fill your heart with love and know, believe, that it won’t always be like this. Because it won’t. You’re beautiful, and you are worth all the love and kindness in the world. And if you ever need a little reminder, my heart is always open to you. Always.

I just went back and read some of my blog from the beginning. I never do that, just like I never reread old sent or received messages or texts — I can’t handle the truth, and the truth is, looking back on those things, a year later, with fresh eyes, opens me up to the realization that I created my own hardships. I was wrong.

Things I’ve Realized/Things I Shouldn’t Have Done:

I shouldn’t have blogged about my trials one year ago, knowing that he would read it, because, by God, he actually cared. I shouldn’t have posted it all out for the world to see. I shouldn’t have complained to Tumblr in those moments where I couldn’t gather up the courage to say what I needed to say, and how hypocritical was that, when that was precisely the thing I was writing about and accusing others of doing?

I shouldn’t have written about my past in the way I did, most especially, because I was already pursuing someone new. Trying to let someone in on my weaknesses and shortcomings like that, wasn’t the right way to go about it, and became another character flaw. I should have said to him directly, “This is where I’m coming from, but that’s all in the past, and I’m all about you right now.”

I should have said yes instead of no. I should have said stay instead of go. I should have been a better, more open person all around. I endured through all that heartache in the last year, because I brought it on myself. I’m where I’m at now, and I’m hurting now because of the way I handled myself then, and it didn’t have to be that way.

I see it all so much more clearly now. Only, now it’s much too late to do anything about it. What a shame.