on being manipulated.

Refuses: Sorry for the lame text…sounds like you’re moving on pretty well, so I should too…just having a little bit of a hard time. Allow me a little bit of weakness though, ok?

my non-responses:

..if you only knew.

FUCK OFF!

I wish you would just call me and fix it, but I have a hunch your actions mean more than your words. They always did. And you still haven’t called.

Grow a pair.

I miss you.

You don’t have the right. You did this. You don’t get to be sad, and you don’t get to drag me down with you.

If you loved me, you would let me go.

like last time.

The last time I chatted with an ex, I eventually slept with him and that was the end of that. That was the end.

Now, chatting with Refuses is just so painful, but doesn’t hurt enough to stop, because I want it so bad. Deep down, I want him to want to talk to me.

And it doesn’t really matter if I’m not the one starting it, or if I’m the one keeping it out of flirting territory, because I am the one enjoying it and I will enevitably be the one getting over it. solo. alone. without refuses. In my sweatpants, with my girl movie, and an extra season of Mad Men.

But I can’t help myself. I just want to talk to him. Want to see if there is really anything left there.

What I don’t want- is to be his entertainment in the meantime. His person until he finds the next one.

I don’t want to be around for when he is lonely or sad, and without any other girl to make him happy.

Rather I want to be the one he goes to make him happy, over all of the others.

REPEAT AFTER ME: I am the rule, not the exception. I am the rule, not the exception.

heal me. I’m just short of begging.

heal my heart, please. Because it never seems like the crazy goes far. Always one step behind me, waiting for me to slow down, so it can finally catch up.

heal me sooner rather than later, please. I would like to close the door on you once and for all, and lock out the crazy until the next time.

heal me for now, please. It doesn’t even have to be forever, just for now. The next time will be good, this I know. But the next time is hardly imaginable, with no foreseeable future.

And I truly believe that this is what makes love so great.

Minus the crazy.

where I am now

I am here, in today, and worked out and sang and made fabric-covered buttons. FABRIC-COVERED BUTTONS.

I was driving today, and I realized that it was the first time in a long time that I had said out loud “I miss him.”

Instead of being sad or disappointed that the thought crept up, I was excited that so much time had past, elated that the thought made me realize how proud I am of myself.

I may not have loved him outwardly, to my friends or family, but I showed him time and time again. The opportunity presented itself to be special to someone, to be my best self for myself and for someone else. AND I DID.

Reluctantly, but I did. I came around. I was hurt too. I didn’t go, I stayed, and I was me the whole time.

He may not have been forever, but I didn’t really need him to be. I need me to be me forever, and right now, I really like that person.

in between the eyes

I am always surprised how “work, single, fun me” and “work boyfriend me” are so inherently different.

In the middle of the day, Work single fun me is focused on my career, willing to do what it takes, making plans in the back of my head for what I am eating for dinner or where I am working out.

In the middle of the day, work boyfriend me is focused on my career, willing to do what it takes, checking my cell phone for plans that night.

Both I like. Both work. Both don’t really have an impact on my work, my career. I have been able to resist mushing personal and work, and that is how I like it.

The me I have a problem with, is work ex boyfriend moving on me, who is focused on my career, willing to do what it takes, but gets drowned in a mindful of fog the minute the ex resurfaces. I am so surprised a message (a FACEBOOK message nonetheless! PISS OFF!) from him at this stage, in the middle of my focused work day, can render me useless for a minute or two, as though I was tazered with all of our memories.

The last couple of weeks- I have been happy work single fun me and loving it. Then a message paralyzes my progress for a moment and all of the sudden, even if for a split second, my feelings for him stop me from working. It is as though my kid sister just punched me right between the eyes. My thoughts are blurry, and my head returns to evaluate choices from relationship issues that have long since been laid to rest.

I hate that he can have that affect on me. I love that his pull will fade over time.

you don’t have the right

to thank me for being the best girlfriend ever. PISS OFF!

You, on the other hand, have the right to do whatever you want and you can tweet about it.

A big sigh of relief

I went to sleep last night at 7:30 pm, and woke up feeling like myself again.

I went to workout (and got my ass-handed to me by an awesome instructor) this morning.

Today I am going to hang out with a group of girls I hung out with before Refuses made an appearance, and I can’t wait to have fun with them again.

I am moving on today, demanding my old life, my old me back, and getting out of this funk.

From here on out I will be working out like I used to, eating like I just worked out, making plans like they are all mine, and living like my heart has never been bruised.

secret messages

If you could read my mind, you would know that I have spent the last 4 days rereading your message. I like to keep it up in the background so you feel closer, and you would call me so I can plan on ditching work early so we can hang out doing nothing for the rest of afternoon.

If you could hear what I was thinking, you would know that I giggled so many times today reading over our dirty drunken text messages. You would have heard me rationalize away us breaking up. You would have known that I have been indulging my every thought of you. I have let my mind wander, let myself miss you, let myself get attached, let myself imagine how the next week will go- if you come back to me.

Of course I may end up crushed, but honestly, not taking the chance to see you for a week just doesn’t seem like an option. I am fueling my own fire because I never got the chance back then.

Now, if only you would come fan the flame.

Do you know what I loved

In case you were dying to know:

When I said you weren’t a nice guy.

You stopped, sat upright, and stopped my tears with the look on your face. You told me I was wrong, not mean-like, just so matter of fact. You asked me to take it back. 

You said I had to stop doing that, calling you mean, because you are not. You said I knew you were a nice guy, because if you really weren’t you never would have ended up in bed with me.

I loved that you knew I didn’t put up with any crap, yet you always put up with mine. You were never shattered when I cried, or at least you didn’t show it. Instead, you just fixed it.

I loved that you let me bug you in the morning, and at night. No matter how early, no matter how sleepy, you let me kiss you goodbye. I think I will miss those minutes in the morning the most.

I loved that you never made me feel silly for dating you, and I loved that you called me pretty just for fun.

your highness, bitches.

I hate your boyfriend. And yours.

If your friends hate him, and your mother thinks you could do better, he has got to go.

Be a woman and dump the loser.

***disclaimer: understandably easier said than done.