First blog post

This is the post excerpt.


People are difficult–they require a lot of focus–to have to strain my mind to understand them–They, uh–they have like an invisible– read them sign and I haven’t quite figured out how to–I mean. I dunno. People are too–complicated. I just need to get away😔

This is what I want

Do you ever just stare at someone, watch them do simple tasks and feel all giddy inside and just smile to yourself?.

They don’t know you staring and they are just effortlessly being themselves,totally unaware of your fascination — and that makes them all the more adorable?

This is what I want. I want someone to watch me take notes in church or fold my laundry, or read a book or just watch a movie.

I’ll have no idea he’s stealing a glimpse, so I’m my real self. His heart will flutter every single time he catches me being me.

I feel like I’ve spent years just longing for someone to love me, really love me. It’s brought me to tears so often. I thought I was being patient and waiting on the right guy, but I am not being patient or waiting at all.

I’m complaining that I don’t have someone, and when I did, it wasn’t healthy or the right timing or the right person – It was love but it wasn’t love.

Being a teenager and trying to find your significant other is the object and purpose of the game, huh? It’s what we really long for at the end of every day. Someone to cuddle with, someone to eat takeout with, and someone to just be with.

We get to a point where we will take what we can get. And that’s just wrong.

When I think I can’t, I’ll just wait one more day. And then the next. And the next and I know something great will happen. I’ll stop waiting and I’ll just start being. And when I can finally just be, he will come.

He probably won’t be what or who I expect and he won’t come when I expect him to. I know I’ve heard that a million times, but I hope it’s true.

I wish I heeded to this sooner. I really wish I would have. It finally hit me, hard that I desperately need to be alone to learn how to deal with myself before anyone else in the world would ever want to deal with me.

That doesn’t mean it’ll ever be easy to deal with me.

But then someone will fall in love with me when I ain’t even looking. I will just be me. He’d be stealing glimpse(s) and I would effortlessly be myself. I won’t have to try.

I’ll certainly be hard for him to deal with, but I know without a shadow of doubt, loving me will be his favorite thing to do and the easiest part of his day.

He’ll come out of nowhere and I won’t be looking for him at all. And when a man finally pursues me with the right intentions, things will fall together.

Maybe I wouldn’t want him, maybe convince myself he’s just being nice and don’t want no romantic relationship with him. Maybe he’d be fun, and we’d go on a few dates and that would be it. But that won’t be it at all and nature would just laugh hysterically at my thought process.

I have been pretty open to the world about my love life. I’ve written about it, I’ve talked about it, and I’ve joked about it. My dating life has really reflected a romantic comedy (emphasis on the comedy part). Maybe the universe is cheering for me to catch a good one, who knows right?

I’m not going settle for someone just because I’m bored or lonely. That
guy won’t ever make me the happiest I’m made to be, and I can’t — won’t love him the right way either. I don’t want to end up with someone else’s person(that’s no fun, tbh) so I’ll wait for mine.

Nothing will beat seeing the love in his eyes, and feeling it in every single embrace. And feeling those really big butterflies in your stomach, every single day. It’s magic.

It isn’t fancy dates and expensive gifts, it’s that one feeling you can’t fully explain.

It’s a beautiful, moving, unending, soul-shaking feeling. It’s what we dream about, it’s what everyone really wants.

And that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I want.

Unrequited love

All I actually want is to be in your arms and that warm embrace, let all of me virtually sink into you. And let me stay there. And after hours of holding you and being held, all I actually want is to kiss your neck and your jawline and your eyes and your shoulders and your lips.

And your lips.

I wish you wanted to kiss my face, to trap me beneath your arms and never let me go. Ever, never ever let me go. To kiss me with the same flaming passion I want to kiss you. I wish you love me as deeply as I love you.

I wish you looked at me with a need to protect me, to strip away the defenses of anyone that looked at me the wrong way with your curiously light eyes. I wish you’d intertwine our fingers and hold on as tight as you could and never let go. Because you can’t bear to see me hurt, cause you too won’t hurt me.

I wish your eyes would light up whenever your phone buzzed and it was me on the other hand. I wish you’d smile when you see me, because you know that in that moment, excitement would ignite my entire system and the butterflies in my stomach would rush to my heart until it felt like it was on the brink of explosion. You’d smile because you know , because you feel it too.

But you don’t, and so I won’t, even though it’s all I actually really want.
Instead I will smile half the smile I’m capable of, when looking at you. I will say hi with a hug, and I’ll let go all too soon. And I won’t let myself be drawn to constantly texting you, or trying to talk. That way it won’t be weird.

I’ll talk with you cordially, kindly, even, but I won’t look at you the way I want to. I’ll look away too much. I will remove myself from flirtation and that might make me seem reserved and bitter, and for that I’m sorry.

Being bitter will make me seem harsh and being harsh will make it seem like I don’t like you. And that just isn’t true. I love you. But that isn’t what you want.

This is unrequited love, and this is not at all what I want.

To be free of the rage

I have a simple desire to get rid of the completely overwhelming and destabilizing emotions I have been experiencing, post-trauma. After the assault, It felt as if my life was in ruins, the pain of it seeping into every area of my life, ruining relationships, my self-concept. I didn’t want to forgive the person who hurt me, I just wanted to be free of the rage that was consuming me. If it was possible to take an exfoliation brush and scrub the memories, feelings, and reactions from my brain, I would have jumped at the opportunity.

I thought about vengeance but I was also caught up in hurting myself and messing up my own life because of the inconceivable pain. Thinking about it, it might feel good to make him walk on hot coals and break everything
he owns, but what would that solve? If I destroyed his belongings, he would still be more reparable than the way left me.

So I sit at home and write. I try to write about what happened. I write about how I dealt and am still dealing with it. To be honest, I never got angry. Not at him. Disgusted, freaked out, Upset, Sickened, depressed, you name it, but not angry.

From the standpoint of human nature, I had something violently taken from me, something that I can’t and will never get back. You would think I would be angry, right?. It doesn’t make me angry, it makes me sad. It’s sad that a person is so sick and somehow, somewhere in his narcissistic head, he was able to rationalize and go through with what he did to me.

Just thinking about it gives me chills. A few hours ago I actually forgave him(not in person or text, just in my head). It wasn’t easy to do, after 17months of dealing, actually not dealing with this trauma. I needed to let it go.

I’m acknowledging what happened; as I hid this secret for a year, if not more. With forgiving him, I’m being forced to forgive myself. I thought it
was my fault and I blamed myself for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was very hard to forgive myself, after all this while of negative self-talk and self-blame. Maybe I just needed a push in the right direction, I didn’t have that and how would I? I didn’t talk about it. I’ve decided that I’m not going to be mean to myself anymore. I had been through enough and needed, at the very least, myself as an ally.

I have this friend that said “You might need to work on your vindictive nature. You are not acting on your impulses. And its even worse because you have this bitterness existing somewhere inside you and it’s doing a number on you” — And I hate to admit it, but he’s right.

It is true that everything we do has a positive or negative effect on ourselves and others. Everything balances out equally. Say I went to his house, broke something of his, but I didn’t get caught. Now, picture me having a giggle and the last laugh. Okay good. After the initial sensation of getting away with something so devious in the name of vengeance, it is likely that I would be spending the next few weeks looking out the window to see if the cops had shown up yet. I can do something nasty and yes I can get away with it to a degree, but I can never really get away from my misdeeds.

So I have forgiven my rapist. I’m choosing a path of kindness and non-violence. I won’t let what happened to me bring me down. Nor let it harden me and rot my soul. I went that route for a year and I will not go back. With forgiving him, I’ll forgive myself.

You said you are sorry, but I don’t forgive you

A couple hours ago, I got a text. It’s been 4hours, 42mins.

This is typical cause I know people I am no longer in contact with. Then I saw the name, visible on the other end.

“my love” I shivered.

“uh?”. I couldn’t be sure who it was, it could be anybody. I mean, there isn’t just one Charles.

“My love, my troublesome love, it’s Charles”. I asked if he fell and smacked his head on the pavement? Why was he texting?.

He proceeded to tell me why he was texting. He told me he knew what he did to me was wrong —that it wasn’t OK. But he never went into detail about what he did. So I’ll explain. Charles is an ex boyfriend. He was also the person to rape me.

After his long diatribe about losing my contact and trying to get in touch, there was an awkward pause. “I just wanted to know how my friend was doing, if you are offended, my apologies”.

I said “you and I aren’t friends” . It wasn’t OK and I felt frozen with fear. I’d fantasized about confronting Charles for months , but when the opportunity finally presented itself, I was shocked into silence. I didn’t think his text would affect me like this.

“I hope you can forgive me”

My stomach was churning. I was so upset. No, not upset. I was livid. I thought about what he had said. He might be sorry—but for what?, he didn’t specify. He texted me out of obligation to apologize.

He was calm . Like he arrogantly expected to be forgiven. I realize
I do not forgive him. Not at all. I can’t abide forgiving him when I am not sure he really realizes that what he did to me was even a big deal. The fact that he texted me at all meant he knew he did something wrong. But he probably doesn’t even know he’s a rapist, he probably thinks rape only comes from strangers in alleyways, not friends in apartments.

He doesn’t know the effect he had on me or he wouldn’t have dared to contact me. He doesn’t know about my revenge fantasies or my recurring dreams about rape .

I wanted to hit him with a baseball bat, throw a brick at him, scream—I wanted to hurt him. But I was too scared to even confront him over the phone.

I do not forgive you. What you did is unforgivable. You raped me. I hope you have daughters you can’t look in the eye(s) . I hope you can’t speak to your mother without remembering what you’ve done and who you are. You probably aren’t a sociopath since you seek forgiveness. You need that forgiveness because you feel guilty for hurting me. I want that guilt to bubble up in your throat every time you are on a date with a girl. I want it to flash through your mind on your wedding night. I want you to feel pangs of shame when you drive your daughter and her friends to school. I want you to feel enough pain to show respect to the women in your life and never repeat what you did to me. If closure exists for you, I want it to be at the end of your life—with the knowledge that I was the last woman you victimized. (I typed this out and I was going to say my piece but I couldn’t send it. I felt relief but I know that cussing him out, would make me no better than him. He isn’t worth my peace of mind)

I haven’t gotten the complete closure I’d always fantasized about. He’s free to live his life. He might have come to me to clear his guilty conscience, but I won’t let him. I didn’t go to my parents because I refused to acknowledge to myself that I’d been raped. I lived in denial. I also had no evidence—I went to his home willingly. I admire rape survivors who go get help and justice and I wish I could have had Charles removed from society but I’d still live with fear. Nothing could have changed that. I haven’t got closure, but I’m glad I’m keeping him from getting his.

The sun is out, I’m completely pure

Couple weeks ago, I texted an ex I said I’d never speak to. And I don’t regret it. I’m not into breakdown texting, I actively try to avoid it. As soon as I get in one those moods, I literally turn off my phone and engage in conversations with my brother, maybe even play with my little sister.

But this was completely different.

I hadn’t spoken to the guy in months,but I was still thinking of him every day,quite intensely . I’d wanted to text him million(s) of times before, but self restraint, dignity, ego,willpower and stubbornness had always stopped me . I figured if he wasn’t going to text me, I wasn’t going to
text him, either.

I thought time would make it easier, but instead it only got harder. I missed him way too much to continue being stubborn but still, I kept myself from texting him. As much as I wanted to talk him, I knew we weren’t at that place where we could just casually text one another(not cause I wanted to get back together though, was just real bothersome not being friendly given all the history). After all this time it would be way too awkward, and I loathe awkwardness, so I kept to my silence. Besides, last time we had a conversation, I said harsh things to him so I would keep on keeping to it.

After thinking of him all day, it wasn’t so easy. My head was heavy from too much food and too little sleep, and so all of the ego and stubbornness that I’d been holding on to completely exploded. I just wanted to text
Him. I checked my phone and saw that he was online, so I wrote out a message and hit send as fast as I could. There was no way I was going to talk myself out of it this time.

I kept my eyes fixed on my screen as the message got delivered and kept them there as it changed to read. For better or worse, he had seen it. I’d made him remember me; so all I had to do was wait. Five seconds passed, Ten seconds passed, twenty seconds, thirty seconds…still no response or attempt to type. I convinced myself he was thinking.

It’s been so long since we spoke it’s obviously going to require some serious thought. He was always one for overthinking anyway, even when it was obvious that I was obsessed with him. Five minutes passed, and still nothing. It doesn’t take this long to think. But screw him, I don’t want him to text me anyway.

The hardest part was picturing his face when he saw the text. Was his face beaming with a smile? Like the one(s) I always use to give him. But he probably saw it and thought, uh, what does she want? Or even worse he saw it and felt pity for me. Like aww, sweety, missing me a lil too much?, you okay there?.

Before that, he was gone but not really. We just had an abstract ending, like maybe someday we’d have a blissful reconciliation. Like instead of a full stop, we just weren’t in contact anymore but after he ignored my silly text, it was obvious that was never going to happen. The blatant ignoring of my message was the abrupt slamming of the door ending I needed. It was a painful blow, but it was a clean blow and one I invited.

And when I woke up the next morning, I wasn’t sad. I couldn’t be. The obsession, was gone.

I dated you because you liked me

I knew you loved me. I knew I was the center of your universe. I knew how you made me feel, like I was the best that could ever be. And I pushed you away. I took you for granted, I knew you’d never leave; because how could you love me so deeply and then just stop? it didn’t make sense then that I could completely destroy someone’s love, until I did.

I never meant for this to happen, but I misused the love you gave me. I fed my ego with it. I selfishly filled every void within me with your love, and it was never enough. My heart was bereft. It had holes from people who’d just left, and I used your love to fill them. To make me whole.

I was selfish and I was ignorant to you and your feelings. I couldn’t love you the way you loved me. I put you second when you should’ve been first. I never trusted you enough, but I’ve been through so much and too much that my walls couldn’t just fully come down.

I lashed out at you sometimes. I made you doubt your love for me, because you couldn’t have loved me any better. I pushed you away and made you work hard just to please me.

I wasted so much of your time. Time you could have spent getting to know someone else, someone who was actually planning on sticking around and building a life alongside you.

I knew we weren’t going to last long. It was wrong of me to lead you on, to make you think we were going to create something serious, when I knew from the start you were only a temporary solution to my loneliness.

I dated you because you liked me. Because you made me feel better about myself. I didn’t realize what I was doing was wrong — at least, not consciously or at the time . I didn’t know how badly I was going to hurt you in the end, because I underestimated how much you cared. I assumed our breakup would be easy on you. I thought a part of you would be relieved to get rid of me since there wasn’t a lot of chemistry in the first place.

But I was wrong.

I have my reasons for doing what I did but none of them really matter. I never should have done what I did. I never should have put you through heartbreak you didn’t deserve. I made you miserable for months so I could have a few serene moments. Because I was insecure and hurt — excuses for doing what I did.

Now you are like me, desolate and broken. We didn’t belong together. You are a good person and you treated me well. I regret dating you but I do not mean that to sound cruel. I meant that, I regret hurting you.

I hope you do not do to someone else I’ve wrongfully done to you. I hope the cycle doesn’t progress till its endless. I hope you can forgive me for not telling you how I really felt. And saying what I really wanted to say.

I’m sorry I made you think we were on the same page when we couldn’t have been further apart.

Small talk is kryptonite to me

The reason I’m reluctant to meet new people, is chatter. Whether you call it chit-chat or chatter, small talk has the same troubling effect on me. It pushes me to the edges of a room.

I’m not socially inept or snobby, I just have this intense distaste for small talk. Assuming that I don’t like people is just wrong, the opposite is true.

Small talk creates boundaries between people. But society has deemed small talk a social necessity and I know that I have to endure some small talk to get what I want, but I will never like it.

Imagine a balloon with a nanoscopic hole that’s deflating, very slowly, losing its will to live as the painful conversation continues back and forth until your interest is lifeless, that is my soul when someone that isn’t even a stranger makes small talk with me.