This one is for you P

I’m having those thoughts again. Sad, lonely, empty heart, thoughts.

Sad that he wasn’t the person for me. What I needed was consistency and daily connection. It was simple, I needed daily connection. When I finally understood he couldn’t give me that, I didn’t suddenly feel a sense of clarity, instead it pained me. It really hurt.

Lonely that the person I loved so deeply didn’t give me the things I needed. I stayed available but unfulfilled. It frightened me that I couldn’t open myself up to someone else, because of the place I kept hidden from others, but ready, for him.

My heart felt empty. I saw how I could lose someone who was giving me what I needed, who was available, attentive, complimentary, creative, and I couldn’t let him in fully. I couldn’t fill him into that space within me. That felt sad, lonely, empty heart.

Miss Mess


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Lesson #4257: ask for what you want

How can you improve me? What can you teach me about life? Do you want to take this journey with me? What can you give me? What can you do for me?

I want you to make me feel confident, beautiful; make me feel like I am your priority. Make me smile. I want you to support me through my job troubles, family troubles, anxious troubles. Protect me. Be with me. I want you to be consistent and consistently available.

My belief was that feeling the love he had for me was enough. His love for me was all I should want. All I could expect. All I deserved.

I would be too demanding, too much of a gold digger, too arrogant, if I expected or asked for more, for anything. So instead of asking for a big house with a pool and friends in Connecticut, I said, that’s nice he knows people there. Instead of asking for good morning messages, I sent them to him. Instead of getting his support and kindness for what I was going through with my job, I told him I understood how his move after living here for 6 years would feel confusing.

Miss Mess


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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


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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


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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


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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


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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


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