Did you develop a bad habit because of a negative experience in your past?

2 years post London; 6 years pre San Francisco:

whenever i get annoyed at you, i start missing you within the hour and i forget all about your hurful behavior. i tell myself to ‘be cool’, and i know all the fun times we had together was what makes me happy too. but unfortunately it’s not as easy as that for me. the day i tried to tell you that you hurt me, you wouldn’t have any of it.

during the week it’s easy for me to stop loving you. it’s easy-er to be okay with not seeing you. but those five days building make me give you everything by the end of it.

my tears are flowing continuously now. if i could just express myself. if i could just stop these sporadic tears.

how is there so much to tell you when im talking to you in my head, but all these words seem immaterial when i’m sitting next to you.

i think i know what i want, the exact feel of your hand on my neck, but does that make me happy? i can’t bare to lose you, but i can’t continue in the shadows of your rare moon either.

tell me who made you feel that way?
tell me why you would do this to others?
tell me who else has been here.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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An oldie, but goodie

Here is your ending. You will walk there too.

It was like we both happened to be walking in the same direction, against the whispers of the wind, parallel to the rising ocean. It was a beautiful sunny day, we hadn’t planned to meet, or to trail side by side on that promenade. We were both headed that way, and soon we naturally fell into step. Our footsteps tapped at the same time, our stride equal. It felt odd at first, like one of us had to speed up without making it offensive, just to relieve any mindless awkwardness. And the other felt a surprising urge to keep the pace, lest we lose that destined harmony. So eventually, we both relaxed and allowed what was happening, the path we were walking, to take its course. Neither of us had any meaning by it, any plan for when we reached a crossroad, any thought beyond being in-tune.

Those walks didn’t last. I fell in love with something in him. He fell in love too, I never found out how deeply, but he loved me, that much I know.

Whenever I spoke about him to others, I truly believed people wouldn’t understand the relationship we had, and the feelings we shared. We didn’t have anything beyond the ordinary, or even extraordinary; but it felt like what we had was more special than what others had. Of course I knew millions of people around the world had been in love, were in love; I understood that, but I still believed something more in us; like what we had between us was unique. Unexplainable. Right.

Months later, after the rose colored tint faded, I realized everybody thinks that about their relationship. especially the days after they lose it, in those periods they feel like they’re fighting for it. this unexplainable, deep connection of their two hearts.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Please tell me what I should do

We’re halfway into our relationship, and I’m helpless.

I saw what life is like without you.
And all I want is: you.
The only person I think about being with is: you.

It’s true, really. Sure, I wonder about someone from my culture, and consider the introductions, the simplicity, and imagine laughing at their charm, but they are tidbits, not enough, not loyal, intelligent, generous, in love, with me.

I wish we could go back to how things were.
Just like the Royals, back to July ’16.
And the fun months that preceded.
Dinners as friends that turned into dates, drinks with friends that turned into dates. Our unplanned trips spontaneously to LA. Mornings and nights of multiple rounds. God you were the best.
The ease of knowing nothing, being consumed in your everything.

That was before I stumbled, exaggerated and crumbled it all.
I was so scared of loving you, so scared of having my heart broken;
So it made sense, I cracked it myself.
I couldn’t endure the loneliness that seemed bound.
Well its bound.

And now I’m obsessed, but I need distance.
I want babies, but I can’t fathom a happy aisle.

And I don’t know if we’ll recover if we break up again. Again.
I don’t want to show you my soul, then runaway, then 3 months later come back to you again.

Can you do the thinking, this time too.
Can you just tell me what we should do.

Miss Mess
xoxo

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A trip back home

Let me explain the process:

You feel this insurmountable happiness in your heart.
You rest your eyes and smile with peace, knowing that they are waiting for you.
The flight, the walk through the terminals, the faces of the other passengers, you radiate euphoria.
And when you see them, your heart literally bursts into crackles of joy, upon joy, and joy.
And every minute is just comfortable, weightless, eternal
It’s just the feeling of home
It’s hugs that give you light
It’s conversations that leave you in head-shaking smirking aw
Affection for you as you are.

It’s, everything.
And that continues cozy and endless for two weeks, maybe three, if you’re lucky.

Then as if abruptly, as if all those days of heat and rest that were passing so slowly, suddenly end in a heartbeat. You fly back. Miles and miles away.
Catch a morning flight, thinking you need to land at a decent time. Get back to real life at a decent hour.
And as soon as you’re on that plane, you’re alone again. Exactly as you were before the trip. Well this time you have more baggage, you’re carrying an extra weight of loss. A mirage of happy days that never seemed to have occurred.

Back at your house, day after day, all you feel is empty.
Lost and trodden and shivering.
Going about your life, so far away from the warmth and ease.
Trying to rid yourself of the glow that softened your sharp edges.
Gradually you become numb, teaching your brain to accept the circumstance.
You try to cut down on the phone calls, distract yourself, do the things you never had time to do. Well you never do them. But you do build distance.
And you start to acclimate, creating a wall to hide the loss inside of you.

Until six months later, beneath the wall, you start to bleed pain. You need a trip back home again to stop the darkness. The wallowing loneliness. And then, the process starts anew.

Miss Mess
xoxo

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You’re the one I talk about in all my stories

“Are you sure you’re in love with him?”

“Yes, I mean, I told him the other night, ‘I’m falling in love with you again’.”

“Hm, ok but..”

but maybe it wasn’t love.

that’s what she was trying to tell me. as kindly as she could. i was too caught up, enveloped in my self-created self-consuming drama of being or not being with him, i couldn’t tell that’s what she meant. i thought i truly loved him. i believed i loved him. i felt it. my heart skipped, my lips smiled, my eyes twinkled, all at once, whenever he walked in. but then she explained the endorphins and the chemicals, and our bodies and human nature. i nodded, agreed with her, and thought how interesting, how many people must she have fallen in love with. completely disassociating myself– what i felt was different. honest. real. from the beginning continued till now.

and i felt heartbreak i truly did.

But she made me question it, and now I feel another break, pinch of reality, the possibility that my love for him was never complete; maybe just embers that were fueled nightly by our bodies.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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My karma – the heart that keeps breaking

wow. those few words just broke my heart.

i was gathering the courage to ask you, to ask me out on a date this weekend. i wanted to dress up, look cute for you. i was making little plans to spend the day and night with you. i was trying to find the right words to tell you i want more. more of you, more calls, more sights, more cities, more experiences, with you.

and you just text me: “I decided to go to LA this weekend.”

that was it, in one blue bubble, i kept staring at it.

i know you have to protect your heart. i know i’m the one who broke up with you that first time. i’m the one who says i don’t wanna be with you in the long long term. i’m the one who teared, and shook and told you so.

but i just didn’t think you were waiting for the worst moment to make your mark. with a text and a drive far away.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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As if my heart couldn’t break

Throughout our relationship, although I had my selfish moments, I stopped acting on what it was that I truthfully wanted. Who I wanted to be with. Where I wanted to go. What I wanted to do.

I was constantly worried about him – About yo-yo-ing him – About breaking his heart. About giving him a normal relationship. About saying one thing and doing another thing. About saying too much and explaining too much and never explaining enough.

Yet I never once thought: what if he broke my heart.

As if he wasn’t capable, as if my heart wasn’t able to break.

As if there was a positive correlation between the good guys, and my personal happiness. As if life was that simple.

Well let me remind you, my heart was beating to the shape of the thinnest glass, it had long been stretched at the seams. And one Thursday it so simply shattered. I turned my head, let his lips brush my cheek, and whispered, “I’ve met someone.” Trust me, I know how he felt, because my heart felt the tremors. And I scrambled to pick the pieces, cutting my fingers at the corners. Feeling the blood as it trickled scarlet.

Sure, he didn’t do it that time, it was me, it was precedence and it was my past. But once I pieced it together that first time, and once I went back to him, it happened again like the most ungodly punch into a mirror. This weekend it shuddered, pieces crashing down. The reverberations beating in my ear. A black hole clamping in its place. I stayed in bed for 24 hours, I couldn’t move, I laid there arms restless by my side, willing the pieces to mould, my mind begging them, tears streaming down my face, painfully, pushing the pieces together, back to where they had been, many years ago, first stitched into place.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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