Poetic Sadness

It was the strangest thing. Thinking about getting to the place where I would be okay, where I would no longer be sad, where I would move on from him, – made me cry. It made me inconsolable.

Was it because I was giving up on him, on us, on him being the person for me?

It could have been because someone had done it to me, and I thought about how much that hurt. I remembered the definite cuts and bruises that caused. In times past, they had left me on read, moved on from me, got engaged, got married, brought his wife to my best friend’s wedding, lived with his new girl, lived his life without me.

Honestly, It wasn’t so much that. That made me detached and nervous. But at the end of the day, I got my hair done with my ex’s wife, we all danced, and the next day I shrugged about how odd it was.

But this immovable sadness was definitely something different, stifling and untouchable. It was misery brought on by joy with another. It was seeing the last few sentences of the last page of a good book. Punch and pushes into my chest that we would be no more. Breathless, final and desolate. We would not get to live my romanticized, controlled, perfectly planned out, thought to the end, his and my, love story.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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One Summer Wedding

They left the dance floor, went through the kitchen and took the hidden steps up to the expansive roof in the middle of downtown LA. It was completely empty when they got up there. It was still light out, the sun was setting and the sky had that infamous LA pink tinge.

“Okay I promise the kids were all here. They were all smoking cigarettes, that’s why I brought you up here, I know you had a pack on you… Wow, I feel like I’m trying to trick you, how embarrassing.”

She looked around, shrugged, confused. She gently shifted up the corner of her dress to help her walk easier, holding out her other hand to him, “come let’s go back.” Her arm extended, she turned again looking for the exit.

“You aren’t?” He stood his ground and gripped her hand, firmly for the first time that day. His eyes twinkled mischievous.

She turned 180, almost clumsily, frowning and serious, “no promise, I’m really not.”

Before she had a chance to understand his tone, she saw his eyes pierce hers, he pulled her to him, and reached with his other hand, sliding his fingers softly through her hair.

She let go of her dress. Reached both her hands to his face. Her lips parting making an O sound. She was engulfed in his arms. Her heart beating fast. The air musky and light.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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InstaPain

In modern times like these, our wolds are so converging, so connected, so easy to feel pain. He posted a picture, of a picture, of a girl in Mykonos, with the caption: “I met the most beautiful girl in the world”. This was the babiest step to our separation. The collateral to moving on. There was nothing wrong with him doing this. There was everything terrible in how I felt about it. Numbed, shocked, piercing pain. Looking at the picture again. Numbed, shocked, piercing pain.

So this is what they mean when they say set boundaries. Block them on all social media. Tell them what level of communication works for you and what doesn’t. Tell them you don’t want to hear from them. No more screenshots, no more comments on your pictures, no more I miss yous. Set the rules. Your rules.

Oof seems so assertive. Who is this assertive.

Mess Mess

xoxo

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Does anyone else track dates?

On July 4, 2018, I lost my best friend. I made a decision that did not feel like it was me making it; I made the decision to stop. It was a hard time. Truely difficult. I had built this foundation on something I believed was so right, on someone I believed was the one. I had become one person with him. And it wasn’t so right. I wasn’t me. He wasn’t the one. I cried to him in the car, and said we needed to stop. After months of disjointed togetherness I decided to set the boundaries to not see him anymore.

On January 24, 2019, I saw him for dinner, he took me for sushi. The tears were still there. Like nothing had changed but everything had. I had sort of moved on, he had sort of not. It was a confusing time. I was angry at him. I missed having a best friend, but that night I did not miss him.

On April 21, 2019, I slept with him. He had a goodbye party. He was moving out, leaving the city. I thought this would be a good test, good end to this end. I did not pass the test. He flew in and out, I helped him pack his house. We pretended we were dating again, in the city, in Napa, in London. His energy and my energy, we were magnets. Unhealthy, self-harming, weak magnets.

August 26, 2019, I manifested it. I will move on. I am not waiting for him. I will stop holding a place in my heart for him to come back to. There is no place for him in my life. I will be happy with another partner, I will love them fully, I will have no attachment to him. Today is the end of me and him.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Are you ready to move on?

I pulled out my phone, opened up our text thread, tapped till I got all the way to the top, and once again read it through. This time, not to understand how we communicated, what I said to him, when and how things took a wrong turn…but really to feel closer to him. I placed my phone open, on his last text, on my chest.

I knew I couldn’t message him to tell him I missed him, to remind him to care for me, to remind him to remember me, but I needed to feel his words close to me, to feel him close to me, even if it was through a phone screen.

I was bawling all night. Embarrassed, alone, holding it in. I willed myself to stop, to stop wanting to be with you. I begged myself to delete our conversations once and for all. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t have the strength. And I wasn’t ready, I’m not ready to give you away, forever, yet, still.

— Edit: 12 months after this day, I did it. I deleted our conversations. Every single word, back and forth for three years. I think I’m ready.

Now your turn, go on, are you ready to move on?

Miss Mess

xoxo

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I smelled like him, breeze, fog and disgust

It’s time.

My mouth smelled like him. It wasn’t sexy or nostalgic or endearing this time. I left in the morning, sad that I had to feel what I did in order to understand it was time to end things.

His brother had to open the door for me, 1am, blue dress, makeup up smudged, security by my side. I was not okay with that.

I felt ashamed, a pile of regret, and tiny, oh how tiny I felt. I wouldn’t wish that moment upon anyone. I couldn’t even shake the memories off the next day. Or the days after. I closed my eyes and delved in. Over and over. Unanswered phone call, security, apartment door, his brother. Feeling the weight of misery, a cloudy mind, pounding, clenching in the pit of my stomach. The tears poured out of my heart. It was awful. It killed any pride I had left.

I had nothing left. Nothing of me left.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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GoDaddy

I couldn’t listen to someone else’s story about the time you once loved. How you flew to Denmark for a domain name, well for a girl you had liked on some trip somewhere, and she owned the website that you needed. I knew the website. You owned it now. I reviewed it, gave you notes and product feedback. It was a good site, damn good name. I never knew there was a girl though. I didn’t know the full story, and I couldn’t listen to it once it was being told. I silently took a deep breath, tried to detach myself in order to hear what was being said. Your best friend Bev, was telling me the story. Why was she even telling me this story? I smiled, smirked, raised an eyebrow at the right moments. Laughed because we all knew how outrageous you are sometimes.

It was a strangely tough experience. I was with him, but stories like this, and friends like her, made me feel like he was not with me. I couldn’t bear to imagine living in a world where I reminisced about him, without him. Where people would tell me things about him, and I had to just, hear it. Where he would live and I would live, but separate and apart and not together. That made me hold on tighter, rightly or wrongly. I remember that night, how insecure I felt, I went back and clung to you in bed.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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