Post 1: I love him.

This is my story of letting go, moving forward and healing. Read it or don’t. It’s not written for you anyway.

I love him more than I will ever put into words. Him. His smile. The way he says “laughing hysterical” instead of “laughing hysterically”. His nose that is too big for his face. His lip that quivers when he cries. The way he made me feel – sexy, loved, incredible. My soulmate. My person. My best friend. He is so beautiful. I wish you could know him like I do.

For six years I have loved him, but he isn’t mine to love. He never was. We both believed we belonged to each other, but we never did, and now I realize that I need to gracefully move forward without anger.

So here I am, writing. I have no one else to confide in. I don’t know if I can survive this. Please help me, if you are out there. How can I move forward?

I don’t know how to live a life without him. Does writing about it make it worse? I’m sobbing while I type this.

I am begging you. Please. Help me get through this.


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Your love

I can’t describe it as ebb and flow,

It does not do the volatility justice.

It’s more like the pull before a tidal wave –

Ocean floor laid bare for all to see,

As if water never touched it.

Then the crash of the wave,

And the utter destruction that follows.


Before you know it, the things that once made you happy are now heightened anxieties masked as false hope

Every pleasurable touch turns into a sore if you let it.

New Year

It is easy to confuse the rising sun with the light of a distant city

Does it matter to a person lost in the distance?

Is it better to illuminate naturally or to hand out hope in 1,000 tiny lights?


It’s that time a year again

Uncertainty in your eye, again

Clawing at my belly climbing up into my throat, again

I swore I’d never fall again

Fall victim to your ways again

I thought this was the end, what am I doing here again?

You told me not to cry again

Then you tighten up your grip, again

Hands clasped tightly squeezing breath out of my lungs again

It’s all gone back to black again

Darkness all over my skin again

This is the last time, I mutter underneath my breath. Again.


I’m a fetid bandage

A patch over a festering wound

I hold the badness in, kept just below the surface

I’m clean on the outside. Fresh and pure. Beautiful, even.

The secrets I keep, though, are unimaginable.

I’m not a permanent fixture.

Temporary. Disposable.

I will never be a part of your skin, no matter how hard I try to conform.

I’ll heal you whole. You’ll toss me aside. Keeping me only as long as necessary.



I returned home after 5 years to realize that time didn’t stand still in my absence.

I’ve suddenly aged 5 years and this life here has surpassed me.

What filled me before has been emptied.

The roads have changed course. Abandoned storefronts are thriving with unfamiliar things.

I don’t know it anymore.

It’s true what they say, you know.

You really can’t go home again.


We are experts at the pretend, like little children in a pillow fort.

The fort isn’t made of pillows, but hard, gray stone, and our love is free and untethered.

There are dragons, both then and now. But now instead of fighting them, we pretend they don’t exist at all.

We pretend we are accepted, and that what we are doing has been right all along.

It’s us against them, we pretend. “They” want to keep us apart. We pretend that we aren’t the enemy.

We convince ourselves that our love is so pure, it couldn’t possibly cause pain. It could though, and we know this too. It could ruin many lives.

We pretend we are innocent. We convince ourselves of this until the truth becomes abhorrent.

Children take a break from the pretend. They put the pillows back and move on to another game. They know it’s not real.

We continue on and that is the difference. We pretend this is our future. We are so far gone we can’t see it any other way.

I believe you

The ocean water is salt water, and I know this as truth

But you tell me it is not, and I believe you.

The sky is blue and I am as sure about this as I am my own name

But you tell me it is yellow, and I will believe you.

I tell you that you are hurting me. I can feel it in my bones.

You tell me I am not hurt, so I am not.

I tell you my heart is breaking. You are breaking it.

But you tell me I am imagining it, so I pick up the peices and tuck them away.

You tell me that you love me more than life itself, and I know I have to believe you.


All it took to unravel me completely

Was a dress on a hanger.

Gray, simple. Long sleeves and buttons.

I wore it the first time you touched me. So long ago.

Crumpled on the floor, me and the dress. I can’t let go.

With every ounce of strength left, the dress comes off the hanger.

Folded neatly, it waits for a new home. A new place in someone’s memory.

I no longer have the room.

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