Continuously Falling

years later, he came into the restaurant i was working at. i hid in the bathroom and cried. he came in after me. he just held me. telling me that he never got to be there to pick up his mess. the mess that was still me, years later. the mess that was permanently tattooed on my forearm. 

he told me how he never wanted to hurt me. he never wanted to see me like that. how he regretting taking her back, how it should have been me instead. how she was comfortable. how she was just “there”.

I remember the feelings i had after we broke up.

I was an idiot. I was stupid. i was young. i was blind. i was naive. i was in a wonderland and just stuck there. i was selfish. i was so lost. i was insanely hurt. i had to love myself because i didn’t think i was worth it for anyone else. i was the problem. i was the other woman. i caused pain. i couldn’t love anyone the way they should be loved. i wasn’t where i was supposed to be. i was worthless. i wasn’t enough.

as the year(s) passed i slowly came to the conclusion that i was. i was enough for love. i was enough for myself, for my family, for my students, for my future. i became strong in the idea that i never wanted to feel that way, ever again. 

i have felt that way though. but i have a permanent reminder on my forearm. 

“you are enough.”

with a grammatical error for character. to rebel against the system of being a teacher and starting every sentence or beginning the “right way” by society’s ideas. 

it took months of crying in bed, alone, heart broken and in pain for me to realized that I needed to forgive him. I wrote him a letter, a week after it happened. that i forgave him. that i didn’t understand why he did it but that i also didn’t need to understand why he did. how it was a real fucked up God plan, but it was in God’s plans otherwise it wouldnt have happened. i forgave him because it wasn’t my sin to hold against him. it was something he needed to talk to God about. and that’s what I told him. he needed to forgive himself after he had asked for forgiveness from God. but my forgiveness was already there and given.

The year later, when he held me in the bathroom crying, he told me that it was so confused and hurt as to how i could forgive him for something like that. i told him he didn’t understand because he hadn’t forgiven himself yet. he deserved love. but only from one person, unless he was mormon or in an open relationship. as we worked through what we needed to through a year or so, i started to fall in love with him again. but that permanent reminder was a dagger to his heart every time he saw my arm. 

but this was the bandaid to my heart. 

he wasn’t something that i wanted in my life. maybe as a friend but nothing more than a birthday text every year. 

forgiving him was one of the hardest thing i had done. but it was also the easiest once I realized how free it made me. the bourdon was no longer mine to hold on to. i could work on myself, loving myself and rediscovering me. 

the next was the day. we had conspired, we got together and discussed everything that had been happening. how he was sick over easter but really he was with my family. how he went to my family events and weekends away while she thought he was studying for the MCAT. nope. he was not studying for the MCAT. 

we approached the high apartment together. him not knowing what was going to happen. she came in blazzin’ upset. tears and screams rolling out. they had been dating for less than a month longer than we had. so technically i was the other woman. he sat there in disbelief of what had happened. both of his girlfriends in one penthouse at the same time. 

so. we dumbed him. she had a lot more to say to him than i did. i think it was because all of our plans were ruined now. all of the things i was holding onto were gone. all just a nightmare. 

as we walked out she told me “i will never forgive you if you go back to him.” so i didn’t. 

year ago I had a story to tell but I didn’t want anyone to hear it. why would I? it was my story. well it was his story too but I don’t think it was his to tell either. 

My world came crashing down during a time of late night dancing, playful flirting, starry eyes and him. he was the focus of my life the day I met him. scary to think now. that he had that much impact on me then. scarier to think that my current significant other had a bigger reaction than him. 

besides the point.

it started with swing dancing, two stepping and strangers. curly top head, long and flexible arms wrapped around my waist. i will never forget that night. when i met him. i had no idea what was going to happen. we exchanged numbers that night, after hours of dancing with each other. there was something magnetic about him, something that drew me in like a trap but i was too dazzled to know what could happen. we continued on this, meeting every Sunday for weeks. dancing, laughing, car rides to my door with all the windows down and impulsivity flying from my presence. he dropped me off at my dorm one night, and i played the smooth move of dropping my key card in his car. i kissed him then. it wasn’t great to be honest but he was fresh and inviting and something was different. 

we continued down this path for months. staying at his house, him meeting my friends, family and building a future together. pictures of houses, preferences on color palates, where we would go on our honeymoon. the works. I was so crazy about this man that i was blind. there were always these signs, these things that would bring my attention or the hairs on my arms would raise straight up. he would assure me that it was nothing. she was nothing. we were everything. 

one day i was on his facebook, she had posted something on there about couples. I grew enraged. that’s putting it nicely. 

i called him, freaking out. her reassured me once again that she was obsessive and crazy and everything i wanted to hear. 

then, one day around 9 months into this relationship, I was looking for a q-tip in the bathroom. when really he had turned me into an OCD-freak about water spots on the sink. no matter what, i always had to make sure the water was wiped off so that the water wouldn’t create marks on the hardware. when i was over, while brushing my teeth, there were water spots that were not mine. he never used my side of the bathroom so i knew that wasn’t the case. this is when i knew something was really up. he started taking his phone places, he changed the lock and was acting super shady. so he went to work one morning, opening a coffee shop on a cold saturday morning. 

leaving me to leave the house and lock it all up. silly boy. this is when i started looking. there were make-up wipes in the trash, not mine...i wasnt supposed to wear make-up over because it could get on the pillows...so i continued my search. i looked in every drawer, every cabinet everywhere. then i found the clothes that were not mine. they were hers. I texted him saying i needed a q-tip because they were in the same drawer. this is when he responded and told me where they were and then continued with work. 

i messaged her on facebook. i wanted to know. are you together i asked her. she said yes and that she would really appreciate if i would back off. i told her i didnt know. she didnt believe me. i then got a call from him yelling at me for making her ideas worse and recognizing them. so this is where i stewed. i sat there and after he was done getting mad at me i messaged her back. i asked her not to say anything to him because i had things to say to her. so she listened. i told her of us, of our mornings in bed while it rained outside, coffee dates multiple times a day, physiology labs and all of our plans. 

she told me i was lying.

There is a punch, no one talks about. 

It’s not as noticeable as one to the face but in my opinion it is more painful than that, it’s a punch in the heart. It’s the pound that hits your heart and radiates through your ribcage. It send this echo through your soul. It makes you question everything you are doing and who you are doing those things with. It sends shivers up your spine, chills down your veins and spikes through your arteries. It sends questions through your nerves and doubts into your lungs. It hurts. No one ever talks about this side of love. 

No one ever talks about the punch. 

The punch is good although it feels awful. It hurts you soul deep and almost sent me into a riveting spiral away from the one I love. It screams vulnerability and uncertainty. It howls at the opportunity to get through the creases of your brain that derive from your heart. But, it makes it’s way to your heart. Making you hands shake and your voice tremble as you attempt to talk yourself out of whatever the hell is happening inside. It creates a movie that is flashing before you, a movie of everything that is coming and everything that has left. It connects all of your dots in a way you had never noticed before. It connects everything that has gotten you here. In this movie, it shows your future, it shows our future. 

I might have convinced you that this punch is a negative, but in all honesty that is the exact opposite of what is was for me. It was a concrete block being dropped on me. It was the heavy weight being lifted about how I actually felt for you. It was me realizing that I thought I loved you before but after this moment, after this punch, I was going to love you in such a different way. In a more sincere way. In a more real way. In a more kind way. In a more connected way. In a more vulnerable way. This was the punch that showed me how vulnerable I was about to be with you and it showed me that there were less walls standing in our way now. 

This punch told me that I didn’t want to love anyone else. I always thought I didn’t want to love anyone else but this punch told me that I didn’t want to love anyone else. Not the way that I love you. It told me that this was it. There was no more room for doubt. There was no more room for what-if’s. There was no reason to be uncertain about anything that contained us in the description. It was all about how I was totally and completely in love with you and how terrifying that can be to someone. 

This doubt was overwhelming, breath shortening, light spinning, chill shaking, inner warming and so fucking terrifying. It is something people don’t talk about but I think this is the punch in the heart people get when they think they love someone but then life or fate or God makes you rethink things. Makes you really realize what you have and who you have it with. 

Whether it happened this month or 5 years go. It's going to affect her and it's going to affect you. What she needs from you is to know is that even though she's smiling through it, it is still something that will haunt her for a long time. 

She might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She might have worn the wrong thing to the wrong place. She might have been with the one person everyone warned her about "they just seem like trouble". And they were right. She would give anything to be where she should have been, wearing something not so "appealing" to others, she should have know that person was trouble and fought her own instinct to be friends with them. She would have done these things if she would have know what was going to be taken from her. It could have been someone she knew or someone who found her to be easy on the eyes at a party. It could have been in the bed of someone's truck or in her own bed. She could have screamed her guts out or been completely incoherent of what was happening, while it was happening. He could have thrown her out when they were done like an old pair of socks or a dirty towel when he was finished. Or she had to wake up to see what "she" had done.

The next 24-72 hours are always the worst. It's coming to terms that's something has been done to you. Something you had no control over. Something you can't take back. Something you can't tell anyone. Because now that you've "slept" with a stranger, you're a whore. 

You're disgusting to those around you with morals. Because where were yours when that happened?

You're weak because you couldn't stop him. Because you couldn't push him off of you. 

You're unfaithful to the boyfriend you have sitting at home. Because he didn't listen when you told him you had someone at home.

You're too quiet because he must not have heard you saying no. Because his hands were coving your mouth as you tried to push out that last scream for help. These are the thoughts that run through your head, through your girlfriend's head as the days go on. 

The most important one, that everyone thinks at some point is: "Was this my fault?" "It is my fault" "If I wouldn't have been there. If I would have just watched my drink better or not drank as much.  If I wouldn't have worn that sequin skirt. If my shirt wouldn't have been as low cut. If I wouldn't have worn those tight jeans. If I would have never made eye contact with him. If I would have never done this to myself, this wouldn't have happened."

This becomes our battle. 1 in 4 women are sexually assaulted in the United States. You're now dating that 1. She might be your 1 but she belongs to something else before she belongs to you. When she talks about this event, if she does, recognize how strong she is. If she talks about this event, recognize how hard this is for her. If she tells you when this event happened, be considerate of the couple weeks before and the couple weeks after. Be there for her the whole day and everyday she needs you past. Be able to be there if there are night terrors or nasty memories that creep into her weakened mind. Hold her hand if she needs you to. Don't be offended if she doesn't want to be touched or have sex around the day or time. It might be how you show your love, but that idea of love has now been altered for her. Don't pity her. Whether it happened this month or 5 years ago. She doesn't need someone to take care of her or say "I'm going to beat the shit out of that guy." She doesn't want you to be mad. She wants you to be there. Although you might not want to listen, you should. Even if it hurts you, it's hurting her more. Remember, this event and her choosing to tell you about it... this is for some women, the worst thing that has happened to them. Take it as such. We don't need a night in shinning armor. We just need you. 

When it happened to me, I didn't want to see that man ever again. I didn't want to date anyone with blond hair and blue eyes ever again. I never wanted to sit in the cab of a truck ever again. I didn't want to go running in fear I would run into him. He took so much away from me. It took so much of me to get myself back. I still haven't gotten my self back yet and it's been 5 years. I still think about how I dress and the people I am with. I am that 1 in 4 of my friends now. I am the one who thought it was my fault. I am the one that still has night terrors about the event. I am the one that still cries herself to sleep around the date. I am the one who was sexually assaulted but I don't want to be seen as weak, sad, pathetic or pitiful. I have worked hard on myself for a long time. I want to be seen as loved, strong, independent, witty, caring, and so many other things. An assault is an event in someone's life, it's not who they are. Mine shaped so much of who I am now but it will not become a label I carry. I was assaulted and it still affects me. It's going to still affect her. It will affect you. 

fearˈfir/

noun

1.an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.synonyms:terror, fright, fearfulness, horror, alarm, panic, agitation, trepidation, dread, consternation, dismay, distress;

verb

1.be afraid of (someone or something) as likely to be dangerous, painful, or threatening.

what do you Fear? Do you Fear being left alone at the alter or the love of your life dying before you do? Do you Fear things that have nothing to do with love? Do you Fear that you will die and have so much potential that was not applied to your Earthly life? Do you Fear letting you parents down or your others that mean the world to you? Do you Fear God refusing grace when you reach the gates of heaven? Do you Fear the wrinkles or the process of aging? I want to know what things make your skin crawl with uncomfortability and pain. 

I want to know what shakes you to your core. What makes your blood boil or better yet, stand still. I want to watch your eyes widen as you talk about the things you never want to happen. I want to lay my head on your chest and listen to you breath in and out, waiting for the pin to drop. Waiting for your heart to start working overtime just to pump blood to all of your extremities and your mouth. Your muscles. I want to watch as they trip over each other as you stammer the words and the possibilities you never wanted to validate by sharing them with another person. But I want to be that person. 

I want to be the person you share your Fear of moments with. I want to be the person who kisses all of the Fears you have ever thought about into imaginary friends. I want to be there when Fear confronts you, holding your hand and looking you in the eye, letting you know that I am not going anywhere. I want to hold you in the closest relation possible to my heart and mind. To offer you compassion on your Fears, to offer you logic when your mind is clouded with Fear’s possible future. 

I also Fear your strength for me. 

I want you to know that Fear already has a hold on my heart.

 I Fear dying before my potential is filled. I Fear dying before changing a child’s life. I Fear children, how they look at me and what they see when I am in front of them pretending to have it all together. I Fear dying before the love of my life. I Fear letting my family down. I Fear not loving what I am doing. What I Fear the most is Love. I am Terrified of Love. The grasp it could have on my heart and my mind. How it could change my logic and my compassion for someone. I Fear change. I Fear depending on someone else and letting people in. I Fear that when you Love someone you have to let them in and I am Terrified of that action. Letting you know all of the bumps and bruises of my life. Knowing where the shadows are still comfortably living. I am Terrified of all of the monsters I have made thinking they were imaginary friends, looking out for my best interest. I Fear you meeting my monsters and deciding I am too much for you. I Fear not being enough for you. I Fear not being enough for myself. 

I Fear being controlled by a someone that is not a someone but a something.

 But the difference from before is that I want to stare Fear in the pupils and grab your hand, gliding past it, never giving it the validation that it was there in the first place. I want to look at you and only seen a warm of brown eyes and a baseball capped rim smile. I want to wake up in the mornings and shake off the fear that this might be the last time I wake up next to you. I want to dive into the dreams and ideas of waking up with you in 5-50 years. I want to melt into the possible blankets and children that would bless our home. I want to close my weary eyes and sink into the terrifying realization that you are not going anywhere. I want to look forward to the long days at school, knowing you would be the one I decompress with at night. I want to come home and slip on my socks and your shirt and fall onto our couch. I want all of the little things. I want a good life with you. I want a life where I am not being controlled by Fear. I want to give up on Fear to put Hope and Trust in you. 

But then I have Fear talking in the back of my mind : “

Today he sat across the table from her with his wide eyes and deep dimples. Fingers pointed for exaggeration. He sat there and smiled. Not knowing how hard it was for her to sit across from him. He danced around the hard answers but was never slow to fire the hard questions. Taking a deep drink whenever he felt uncomfortable, always looking away. Never towards her. She always answered the hard questions with him directly insight, every hard question involved him in some way or sort.

“Where are you going to school in the fall?”

“do you really want to leave here?”

“You should do what you want to.”

For he was her hard questions she would ask herself every night.

What could have happened?

What if it was you instead of her?

What it if was you cheating on him, what would have changed?

Would God forgiven you the same as he's forgiven him?

Would he forgive you as you've forgiven him?

So many questions danced in her head as he asked the easy questions, she answered without a thought, gaze never changing from his eyes. She wanted to tell him when she was at the base of the mountain, the thoughts that clouded her mind. How when she looked down at her arm, still questioning her worth, thinking how little her problems were in relation to the size of this mountain. How little her struggle was to that of Jesus. And everything became quiet in her head and nothing mattered. Her problems were not problems but a human’s worry. Just worries. His ideas or how she made her question her worth were no longer in her mind, clouding up the experiences that surrounded her. Her worth was worth something to Jesus, to her father and to those who surrounded her. She wanted to know why he still wanted her. Why he was there. Why he cared so much now, and why he was thinking of her when no one else was ever thinking of her in their relationship.

When I listen to the song that is the title of what I’m posting, I can’t help but be taken to a dream of where I see the person I love and we run into each other, and I am picked up and spun around like a small child. Feeling weightless and complete. 

How that must feel to feel complete.

 Not only complete with someone but the idea of being complete before you meet a person.

I am watching myself spinning in the arms of someone I don’t know. I am the happiest I have ever seen myself. I am the happiest I have ever dreamed of being. I have no idea how to get that happy. I have no idea if that will happen or if it’s even possible. I just know that I have never though about that before and I have never seen myself that happy or thought I could be that happy.

I have always thought of myself, driving up to a white house with a nice porch and a couple chairs on the front steps. I have thought about the fence I past and the small driveway I have. I have thought about the two dogs that greet me on the daily like it’s the first and last time they will see me. I have thought about the tire swing or wooden swing I want in the front tree and the bed of flowers on the side of the house. I have thought about the hard wood floors cold beneath my feet on winter nights and how they will sound under my heels as I leave for the night, putting my last earring in and checking my lipstick for perfection in the hall mirror. I have thought about the small pond I want in the background of the white house and the small paddle boat or row boat I want. I have thought about how it looks on summer nights, lit up with beautiful fireflies. 

I have never thought about the fire that is lit in my heart by another person that shares the home with me. I have never thought about the person who goes out onto the water with me, rowing the boat as we just discuss our days. I have never thought about the old rope I want that leads into the chilly black ripples.  I have never thought about the lips I would be kissing once I got into the car, checking to make sure the satin cream hasn’t transferred to him. I have never thought about the human who will warm my toes or the fires we build in our small yet well lived-in home. I have never thought of the amount of blankets we will have and how often we get lost in them, forgetting we own a bed and staying on the floor. I have never thought about the dirt underneath the reach of my nails as I plant the small garden next to the house. I have never though about plant shopping with someone to arrange when we want to accent our home. I have never thought about placing my child on the wooden swing and watching the joy fly out of their laughter. I have never thought about watching from the kitchen window or the bay window in the living room, watching the love of my life and the loved creature we have created or found, run around the green grass in the middle of the summer. I have never thought about being pushed by the love of my life on the same swing. I have never thought about the family photos with the two dogs. I have never thought about the introduction of the creature of us and the two eager dogs. I have never thought about how my human will greet me or leave me on the daily bases. I have never thought about watching my human retrieve the mail at the end of our short walk, always smiling as he returns up the short drive. I have never thought about how long that walk will feel sometimes because there might be days where I do not want him to leave my side. I have never thought about how we might have had to repair the old fence that guards our house and the loves we have created. I have never thought about buying a pair of chairs that might not look exactly the same but serve the same purpose; to do nothing in the company of those we love. I have never thought about hammering in the sold sign and taking one of those dumb photos. 

You’re my favorite kind of pain. The kind that comes back all at once. without warning. at the best parts of my life. when I think I have it all figured out and then you come waltzing in. Just like we used to. with a dirty wooden floor under our feet. When I see you. it’s an instant hit to my heart. It’s an instant tear running down my cheek. It’s an instant heartache. It’s an instant question that pops into my mind. It’s an instant dream that plays in my head of what we could have been. It’s an instant shortness of breath. It’s me being speechless. It’s every memory I have with you playing all at the same time. instantly. When I see you. you are something that creeps into my life all at once. all in an instant. And this instant feeling has been sporadically consistent through out the last 3.5 years. 

The pain you bring to me reminds me that I am only human. I know I’m dumb. I know I’m setting myself up to fail. I know I’m going to regret whatever I do later on. I know I’m going to cry. I know what is going to happen. Because over that last few years it is the only thing that has happened between us. 

I know I’m being selfish to say that I wanted you to chase me. To choose me over and over again. For me to blow you off to not be enough for you. For you to find me and embrace me. For you to tell me how it is. How you felt. everything you felt. everything you’ve thought. everything you’ve wanted to tell me. But you didn’t. You let me shut you out. You took the idea of it being easy as how it should be. You should know me better than that. I don’t do the easy relationships. I do the relationships where it means something. Where I loose myself in them. I wanted to loose myself with you. in you. I wanted for it to work. I wanted for us to be a dream that would have come true. Now when I see you I think of all the plans we made. Of all the plans we could have had together. 

I wanted to honestly feel enough. To lie and say that this tattoo on my left arm has nothing to do with you would be one of the biggest lies I have ever let slip through my lips. To tell you that the pain I felt when I was being stabbed a hundred times a minute was anything close to the pain I felt with you would be a lie. I felt broken. I felt like nothing. I felt the lowest I have ever felt. I hate that you have that on me. I hate that you have the power to make me feel like that. I also hate the fact that you have the power to make me forget all of the pain I felt when you broke me into a thousand pieces. I hate that my first reaction to you is to hug you. to breath you in. to nuzzle my face into your chest where your heart lies. To want to listen to you beating. knowing that within the years your tempo hasn’t changed. I hate knowing you as much as I do but I adore it as well. I know what look to give you so you look away from me. I know what look to give you so you keep looking. I know all of your buttons. I know all of your nervous ticks and you know mine. I hate that they haven’t changed. I hate that we can be apart for years, months, weeks or days even and it’s like I was just with you. the chemistry is still there. the idea is still there. the pain is still there. 

I hate how I adore the pain you bring to me. It reminds me of what happened to us. It reminds me of how you used to make me feel. It reminds me of how we used to dance every week. It reminds me of how your arms felt around me. It reminds me of rainy nights spent under a mix of covers together as we talk about the little things in life. I hate how it reminds me of how you smelled. I hate how it reminds me of the feeling of disbelief I had on that night. I hate how it reminds me of when I had to tell her you were pulling a fast one on both of us. I hate how it reminds me of feeling hopeless and dumb. I hate how it reminds of you telling me to leave your apartment. I hate how it reminds me of the next years I spent trying to build myself back together. I hate how it reminds me of all the meaningless relationships I attempted to have to fill the void of something I could fill. I hate how it reminds me of how I throughly felt like I was not enough for someone. I hate how it reminds me that I have a permanent mark on the outside of my body and a permanent mark on my heart. But I also need to remember that I learned a lot about myself through those days. through the darkest times of my life. I learned what I was made of. I learned to stop trying to please others. I learned what my faith was made of. I learned who my friends were. I learned that I can handle a lot more than what I thought I could handle. I learned that I was enough for someone and if they didn’t make me feel like I was exactly what they needed it wasn’t worth it. I learned to be picky, picky as hell. I learned that if I don’t like something someones does that I don’t have to put up with anything. I learned to be guarded. I learned that I am too guarded as well. I’m learning to work on myself and I’m learning I’m flawed. I am learning how to build myself back together even though it’s taken me years to do it. 

There is a quote that I lived by for the last three years.  

Placing yourself in someones position is never an easy thing to conquer. You might never know what they will be thinking, you might think they will react one way but in reality they might react in a way you never thought of. You might think they will say one thing or do something else but how do you know really? How do you explain to someone that the idea behind being in someone elses shoes is not supposed to be easy. it’s supposed to be hard, painful, thoughtful, terrifying and an experience. Stepping into someones stilettos or chucks should be something that everyone should experience. Especially when you have all the control in the world to determine what happens to that pair of stilettos or chucks. You have the power to decide what happens to a person who might have never met before or hardly think of. Stepping into someones shoes that feel comfortable to you can make you squeamish, and uncomfortable. The idea that you have been in the position of the person wearing the shoes, that you have been through what they could be going through soon or in the future. What happens when you are trying to understand someone elses point of view, that you have also experienced but the person who it would be damaging is the other shoe you could be wearing. being on both sides of a two way story is sticky, hard, problematic and scary. You have seen how both sides end. One side you were cheated on for months, 10 to be exact and the other you were feeling almost the exact same feelings as the person who is doing the cheating. it hurts incredibly when you have seen both sides to a story that you can’t give the right answer to.

The story for the right shoe:

Falling in love never comes easy. Except for two times. The one time I will be referencing will be the worst heart break I have ever been through. I fell hard, fast, lightly, lovely and unbelievably in love with this man. It was line dancing, movie nights, inside jokes, future planning, pet names, early mornings and warm nights. It was the idea of having something that last past the four years of college where life was just books, booze and quick witted comments. It was something I could see last for years, having children, changing my last name, falling in love with this man for the rest of my life was all I ever wanted. But then God threw a kink in my plans. He introduced fighting, cheating, screams, tears, heartbreaks, mistrust and pain, lots of it. He introduced to me that not every man is who they say they are and that not every man is going where they say their going. I don’t blame God, not one bit because I know I needed this pain and this kink to happen in my plans otherwise I wouldn’t have fallen again. I saw the ugly in someone and I still loved him. I still wanted happiness for him. I still wanted those things that I hated myself for wanting. I still missed him even though I shouldn’t. I still bypassed his coffee shop. But I would have given anything to have him back. The only difference was that he chose the other girl. Leaving my to believe that I was never good enough for him. I was never the one he was making plans with. I was never the one he meant for his “I love you”s to go to. I was never the one that he dreamed about. I was never the one that he loved. & I lived with this idea for years. two to be exact.

The story for the left shoe:

That was until one Wednesday when my life was flipped upside down. In walked the man I was never good enough for, In walked the man that had literally destroyed every ounce of self confidence I had. He made me question my passions and myself. My faith and my reason. He made me hate portions of myself that I used to adore. But because he picked her I was never going to be good enough for anyone and that is something that I truly believed for over two years. He ruined me. He approached me and I tried to play it cool, I tried to act like everything was okay, that my life was going fantastic and that I didn’t think of him everyday and hate him everyday I thought of him. I bought him a drink so that he would leave me alone as I ran my items to the strangers that had no idea what was going on in my heart let alone my head. As I dropped off the last of the drinks I wanted to consume, feeling engulfed me. I fell to the ground crying curled into a ball and terrified. my heart had been broken just the same amount but with different intensity. My heart didn’t break because he did it but it broke because it reminded me that I was never going to be good enough for him. the human in who I saw my future with.

Weeks past and then months. I started to get used to seeing him and talking with him. I started to get comfortable with the idea of falling in love with him once more. this time I had fallen in love with the way he ate his pie in two bites or how he looked at me from across a bar, I fell for the little things all over again. How his room smelled or how he still cared enough to attempt to give me dry clothes. I fell for the things that made our future a possibility two short years prior. But the one things rang true. What was I doing, why was I doing it and I’m still not good enough for him. I didn’t deserve him, he was smart and snarky and sharp and rude and loving and warm and cold all at the same time. a different type of person for anyone else. I wanted things to work out with him so badly. but the idea that at one time I wasn’t good enough for him would not pass form my mind. it was a constant why no challenge that I did not know the answer to. It wasn’t till August that I realized I had no reason as to why I was seeing him or wanted to see him besides that I could. to me and to him this wasn’t enough and we ended it. He attempted to start things up again but to me I couldn’t go through the idea of it happening again. 

When you are someone of our generation there are a billion ways to leave your mark. There is the commonly desirable way of leaving your mark in the way that you have impacted the world around you in some way or another. This could be saving a dog that you found at an animal shelter, this could be implementing a change on how much water you use, if you eat meat or if you don’t, if you can change the views of one person sometimes that is enough for you.

Then there are the big thinkers, the people who want to become president of their university, the motivators, the people who care about the bigger picture, about reaching more than just a few individuals with their campaign. They are the do’ers. They leave their marks on multiple people if not thousands.  

Then there are the people that leave marks on other people. Not for the good but often times not always for the bad. These people are the people you have loved, hated, praised, forgotten and remembered. These are the people who leave marks on our lives, not just a few people but all the people connected to those people they left marks on. 

See, it’s like a tree, these marks. You hold the hand of a girl on a first date and then she tells her friends about it. You kiss a girl and she tells her friends about it and her mom. You have now left marks on 5+ people (expecting the girl has more than 4 friends). This girl, slowly but surly falls in love with you, the whole world knows your mark now. The strangers that pass her on the street watching her gleaming smile for no reason, her extended family that soon get to meet you, the cashier at the grocery store knows because she’s seen checking out with your favorite food. The barista knows at the closest Starbucks because she knows your order and knows you don’t drink a Toffee Nut Latte with 3 shots in it and 2% milk only. When someone falls in love with you, you mark people you may have never met or ever will. If she hashtags #love in her photos with you and someone is searching the world for some hope by looking up that hashtag, you might have just inspired them. You have left your mark on them as well. Not to mention her followers. You probably don’t know only the same people as her so there will be others that you will leave a mark on. Now, if you break this girls heart. This is how you leave your mark on her. She will only remember when you first held her hand or the first kiss, she won’t want to remember the fights that you two had or the disagreements you could never get over. She won’t remember how much you disliked her father and how much she hated your wardrobe. She won’t want to remember because she will have this heart retching mark that is left on her of you and all the good things you did. She will convince herself that she must have done something, that is was all her fault. Not because it was her fault but because society allows her to think that. 

She will tell her mother that she was too needy or too prude. She will tell her friends that she was too social or not religious enough. She will tell herself that she was not enough.

No matter why you decided to end things with her, maybe she was too needy or too independent. She will only think that she is not good enough. She could have opened up to you and told you all the horrifying things that have happened to her, how most were not by choice but she’s used to being shit on by now and because you knew all the ugly things she will think that because of her awesome track record you left because of that. She will repeat to herself over and over that she was not enough for you. 

Especially when you tell her that she wasn’t enough for you. 

Dearest darling,

How are you? How are you really? How was your yesterday, how is your today and will I be a part for your tomorrow? You may not know me now or you might know me. You might never meet me, you might meet me today or you might have met me yesterday. I have to say sadly that if we never meet I will gasp a large sigh of relief. As great as it would be to give my heart wholly to someone there are always those comforting thoughts of just being with yourself and your thoughts. I would be grateful if our lips never met and you never had the chance to steal my breath. I would be grateful if you never brushed your hand across my face with no intention of harm. I would be grateful if our eyes never meet and your smile doesn’t cause a chain reaction for a smile to crawl sleeping-ly across my whole being, like being waken for the first time in my 21 years and 3 months exactly. For my heart to smile and question every relationship previously. Was I really in love before since I never felt this magnitude of passion and love and questionability and wholeness? 

I would be grateful if I never memorized the color of your eyes or how they are the color of freshly spring dirt or of the ocean as the tide breaks at 5 am or the color of the grass as it is sprouting through the winters’ bed. I would appreciate the denied opportunity to hear your voice and have it haunt my dreams and cause me to jump with excitement as you said my name across a library, being whispered, as if I was a secret and you were the only one who knew the way to say it or what to say, I would appreciate the denied existence of knowing how rough your hand are or how they feel being ran though my hair on a sunny day. How they could caress my face and lift so gently to meet your warm lips. I would enjoy the never knowing what your lips taste like at 3am or how raspy your voice sounds at 7am on a saturday being met with fresh orange juice and smiley pancakes. I would love to never have the opportunity to be chased down the beach by you, only to be thrown into the cold and salty water that carries my heart out to the sea and to just lay there, to stare at the stars and stay in complete awe. To not only question the meaning of the stars but to realize that they are placed there for a reason and the reason was for us to fall in love under.