An Outpouring of Old

For the last few days I've talked to you, and I've talked to you about you. Well, not necessarily about you, but about things that could possibly help you progress as a human being or heal your heart, and I've talked to you about things that have bettered me.

Tonight I'm going to talk about myself, as I will do regularly. I'm going to talk to you about myself, because "myself" hasn't been in the greatest place in the world for the last six months. I'm not depressed, and I'm not suicidal, but I'm just going to talk, because something needs to hear about my soul's issues and the conclusions I've come to lately. Somebody who won't judge. It is here that I feel the need to say again that I don't give a shit about what you think. I'm just talking. I don't want your advice, and I don't want your pity. Words of encouragement are welcomed, but otherwise I don't really care what you say. This is my mind, my world, my blog, and I'm going to do it my way.

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I left my old life behind today. Today I said that I didn't care, and that I was erasing it, and that I will finally leave the past in the past. Where it belongs.

The reason behind that goes with a story, and that story doesn't begin with a, "once upon a time," it begins with a, "truth be told."

Truth be told, I got my heart broken last year. Yes. You know that. But it's time to let that go. I am too good of a person to let myself wallow in self-pity and hatred and continue worrying about losing myself to nothing but the wind. Because, I admit, all this time I've been worried about losing myself and I finally lost her. I haven't felt like myself in years. A couple of heartbreaks, a life full of lies and a few worse-than-normal lies stuffed into a set of around three years...I let myself go.

I used to be this badass chick who knew everything. I still kind of am >insert laugh<. I knew what I knew and I knew it well. I knew who and what I wanted to be. I knew who I wanted to love in the future. I knew the kind of friends that I wanted to have in my life. I knew my future career, the way I'd raise my kids (if I ever had any), and the way I wanted to love my man. I knew how to do everything the right way. Back then, I had a religion. I would pray every night for God to bring me my soul mate. If he ever gave me anything or did anything for me, I asked that it would be that, and I asked that I'd be able to keep him my entire life. You see, I've always had a fear of losing things. An extremely crippling fear, so that always makes it in there somewhere. At least in my past.

That fear is still there now, but it's just a tickle that I overcome easily. Instead, it has been replaced, and it has been replaced by a new fear that I still battle with daily. I have slain one dragon only to find myself facing another. I believe that is the way life is—a journey of dragons. Never particularly a single destination of a single dragon to be slain, but a list of many that must die...or, rather, a list written in invisible ink, since we never do know the appearance of the next dragon we will fight. It could be golden like the last one, or tie dye for all we know. That's what I think. And I think we just have to keep battling day after day until our time comes and we are allowed rest—whatever that rest may be.

Anyway, my new fear is this: gaining anything. I think it's come from figuring out that if I never gain anything I never have to lose anything. People can't want to steal things they don't know exist, right? And you cannot lose things you've never found. It's there...but somehow less daunting than the last dragon I battled. It's still fucking daunting, but I've already faced one dragon...so I have a little more defense against this one. I know what armor works, what swords penetrate flesh, and which fuels incinerate dragon scales. Now all I have to do is use those things.

—I started this rant talking about how badass I used to be. Yes. There was a time when nothing phased me. I'm finally regaining that armor. I had let people take it away...well, not let...no. You never "let" anybody take you down. No. It starts somewhere. Like the first rock chip on a brand new car's window. Eventually the window will crack if you leave it long enough without repair. That's what happened to me. I let one acid lie get under my skin, and eventually it burnt the rest off.

The first lie came from a bully in middle school, the last from a boy's mouth swearing faulty "forevers" and sweet "I love you's." The "I love you's" weren't lies, and the forevers weren't at the time, but the ending destroyed me. He built me up and then I fell down when I realized my castle was built on a foundation of clouds that I'd neglected to make concrete somewhere along the way.

Something I realized recently, however, that finally healed my heart, and finally gave me back myself was that the boy was just another crack on my life's windshield. Not a particularly big one (that's a lie, he was big, but he shouldn't have been enough to break a person like me), but he was enough to stress the old cracks enough to shatter the entire pane of glass. It took me until today to realize that it wasn't just him. I'd lost myself long ago when I started trying to ignore myself—I'd lost myself when I slowly started fighting. It wasn't all him, and I'd been blaming all my heartbreak on that one single incident. I think...had I been in a better place in my life...I never even would have met him. Had I been in a better place in my life, I wouldn't have taken it so hard when I lost him. I am in a better place now. On shaky feet, but I am in a better place.

Recently, my mother keeps telling me that I need a new boyfriend. I keep telling her to shut up. I don't need one. I've finally just realized why I loved the old one so much. She keeps telling me that she loved how happy I was when I had him, and yes...I was ecstatically happy...but that can be repeated without a boy by my side. I'm tired of looking for boys. I'm tired of basing my life's worth off of whether or not I'm going out with somebody. I'm a girl. And the strong woman inside of me knows that I'm only strong because I've learned to stand on my own two feet. Alone. 

You're probably sitting there thinking this post is the most random thing you've ever read...and it probably is. Wasn't meant to make sense to anybody but me. You may also be wondering what I figured out about why I loved that boy so much. 

It's because he came into my life and was the best thing I've had in the dark hole of shit that I let others (and my own self) build for myself over the last few years. He was a light in an ocean of darkness. A single glowing match. I mistook him for the sun. I'll always have a part of me that loves him...you always love your first love...but now I know I can go on. I'm done thinking he was the best I'll ever find. Done thinking that he was a rainbow instead of the thunder before the storm truly responsible for the end colors. I'm done thinking that he was the one to hold me forever instead of the boy who (sadly) was in the wrong place at the right time with a hand strong enough to grasp mine while I used it to pull myself up out of the muck. I could've been happy with him, but, for some reason, God saw fit not to let me have this one.

There're 6.9 billion people in the world. There's somebody else.

What broke me was the life before him. What broke me was letting myself go and losing my passions. I've finally started reviving my dreams and hopes.

I'll be okay now.

This has been A Little Lonely Wisdom from,

Somebody A Little Lonely

"Count your blessings. Once you realize how valuable you are and how much you have going for you, the smiles will return, the sun will break out, the music will play, and you will finally be able to move forward the life that God intended for you with grace, strength, courage, and confidence." ~Og Mandino

"A relationship, I think, is like a shark, you know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we got on our hands is a dead shark." ~Woody Allen

Listen To Yourself: You Are Beautiful, You Are Strong, And You Are Amazing

"I have learned silence from the talkative, tolerance from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strangely, I am ungrateful to these teachers." ~Kahlil Gibran

Some people are just annoying. With some people your words will always go in one ear and out the other like they never existed—like they were never uttered—despite the common sense and logic you use to explain something to them. I am guilty of this, but I am far less guilty of it than I am a victim of it. I always try to listen to what people are saying to me, simply out of respect. If they have an idea that is better than my own, I may not be happy about it for a time, but I will do my best to think on it and reason with myself so that I can accept that others can be more intelligent than myself in certain things—in a lot of things, because, as Stephen Tyler said recently in an interview: "It took me until I was sixty, but now I understand; I don't know anything."


None of us really understands anything.


We will never understand what created our universe, we can only postulate. We can have faith in one of the many scriptures that were written by the hand of man, whether or not their hands speak with the voice of a God or gods, but we will never know for sure why we are what we are until the day comes that we pass on into a world where everything is understood beyond the realm of human life. We, as humans, will never come to a conclusive agreement on anything. As long as we are alive, everything will be questioned. The only thing we can do, is stick to the things we believe in—no matter how many people tell us we're wrong.


Because there will always be bigots and hypocrites telling you what they think, and they will be telling you what they think you should think.


If you ever remember anything that I tell you, this needs to be one that sticks in your mind. The only person in this world whose opinion matters is your own. If you think something is wrong, it probably is. If you think somebody is leading you astray, they probably are. If you feel scared, there's probably a good reason. And, if a person shows you who they are: believe them the first time. Especially if they show you they're a bad person. Very rarely will a person be a shithead just to protect you, or to save face, or because they're hiding something. Besides, if being a shithead is the way a person deals with their problems, you don't want to deal with them anyway.


At the same time, sometimes we lie to ourselves. Sometimes we see things where only a particle of dust floats. Don't let your fears keep you from doing anything. If you've had your heart broken: love again. Just love somebody different, and love somebody new, and, most importantly, don't let yourself end up in the same bad ending just because you project old fears onto your  new situation. You are capable of living a "happily ever after." Albeit, it won't be a perfect one—you are capable of being as happy as you possibly can be in your circumstances.


No matter where you are in life, you have the ability to work hard and turn your world into what you want it to be. You do not have to be an American to live the American Dream. (Secretly, it's just as hard to make your dreams come true here, as it is anywhere else in the world.) I've always found it stupid that a dream so magical as raising up from your position in life and doing what you love had to be labeled with a country. It's a dream we all share, because we are all human, we are all the same, and we are all born with the ability to succeed.


Remember, it's not how many times you fall, it's how many times you get back up, that matters. This is a truth that is common to all walks of life.


You are beautiful, you are amazing, you are strong. Nothing can stop you unless you let it, and nothing has power over you unless you give it. Take control of your own life, and don't spend time living in your own personal hells.


The only person who has to love you is you.


This Has Been,
~A Little Lonely Wisdom


"If you haven't forgiven yourself something, how can you forgive others?" ~Dolores Huerta


"Everybody talks about wanting to change things and help and fix, but ultimately all you can do is fix yourself. And that's a lot. Because if you can fix yourself, it has a ripple effect." ~Rob Reiner


"It ain't nothing to find no starting place in the world. You just start from where you find yourself." ~August Wilson

Making the Same Mistakes

I haven't had any good quotes come out of life, lately. Well, that's not true. Oprah spoke some serious wisdom yesterday on her show's finale, but I can't seem to find it anywhere on the internet, nor do I remember completely what she said. I wanted so greatly to post a quote for you today, because they're important to me, and that's how I learn. That's how I've experienced so many things in my life—through reading and living through the mistakes of others. I've never been much for going through an avoidable Hell. If I can learn through your mistakes I will. Somebody already did it once, I'm sure God would just be bored with the lesson if I showed him how to do it again.


This has, however, driven an obsession in me. I like to observe people. I love to listen to people and discover what they've done to themselves. I like to think on it and come up with ways they could've avoided their pain or how they could fix it now that they've already done themselves in. I like to advise. It's a little bit of a twisted thing that's developed in me over time. I'm a bit of a Mad Hatter, always wanting to tell people what to do with their situations despite never having experienced the issues myself.


I've always been good at third partying things. I can look at a set of people, listen to them rant at each other for a little while, and understand exactly where they went wrong. I can't necessarily tell them how to fix it, but I am forever telling myself in the back of my mind: "if that were me. I would've done it better."


"If that were me, I most definitely wouldn't have screwed up the way they did." 


But here I am. All high and mighty. Talking like I've never had any mistakes or bad decisions in my own life. That's bloody well not true, I can tell you that. If you read my last post, you'd know that. And let me tell you: if you think you can cheat the devil in a way that nobody else in 2,000 years of intelligent human existence has, then you're just fucking wrong.


I'm speaking from an interesting point in my life. I'm brilliant, but an idiot.


The only people in the world who understand that I have eccentricities are my cat, the wall, and this computer screen that I talk to. I'm a weird mind. I understand that I'm different, but the only thing that makes me different is that I realize I'm no different than anybody else out there. Doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it, now does it?


My generation and my world shames me. I don't want to be apart of it, but neither am I willing to kill myself. I get too much of a thrill out of watching everybody in their daily lives doing stupid things and making stupid mistakes and then finding ways not to repeat those mistakes.


Amongst all this pomp and circumstance there is a little light in all of this self-glorification. Like Anne Frank, "I still Believe in the good within humanity."


Every time I see a couple in love: my heart smiles. When I hear a carefree child's laugh: my heart smiles. When I see two elderly people still in love: my heart weeps for joy. Because when you see something like that, it gives the soul something to live for in this world of endless mistakes, sorrow, half-empty glasses, and tear-stained shoulders.


There's not much evil in this world that phases me anymore, but every now and then I see something that makes my heart shudder painfully—A person making the same mistakes I have.


And here we've come full-circle. I began by telling you I like to let others make my own mistakes for me, but (as I mentioned before) everybody makes mistakes, and I am not exempt.


Today I noticed that a friend of mine had fallen in love with a boy almost 700 miles away from her. She told him (as I'd told my last boyfriend) "It's only 700 miles, though."


Honey. When you're in love...700 miles is farther than you think. When all you want is to be in their arms...if somebody can't promise to move after a year or so...it will end very badly. I promise you that. And I promise that to any girl who ever reads this (or any boy, for that matter).


I've been there. It ain't good. If somebody ain't gonna fight for somebody and go see somebody in the beginning of a long distance relationship, and if neither of the parties has the money to move...it will not end well. It will heal your heart for a time to know that somebody out there somewhere loves you more than the world, but it will eventually break you if you can't materialize it and make them yours in person, and for always.


Don't make the same mistakes over and over again.


Whether it's with a boy, or with a job, or with not overcoming a phobia, or hiding from the world. Eventually your mountain of mistakes will collapse under your feet, and your castle built on a foundation of clouds will crumble.


No matter what you do. I promise that—if you build your castle on a foundation of clouds—if you do not quickly make a foundation of stone, you will never succeed.


So, through telling you that I learn through the mistakes of others, I want to tell you: learn from my mistakes honey—because I'm somebody other than you. Please learn from my mistakes and keep yourself from a broken heart. Everybody who's read this. I hope you learn from my mistakes. It's kept me from as much heartbreak as it will keep you.


This has been,
~A Little Lonely Wisdom


Two quotes by the amazing Freidrich Nietzsche to end this post for today:


"Love is a state in which a man sees things most decidedly as they are not." AND "I have done that," says my memory. "I cannot have done that," —says my pride, and remains adamant. At last—memory yields."


Once the blindness yields, don't allow yourself to be put into a position where you will be denying memory.

Stories of a Long Distance Relationship and a Seemingly Endless Heartbreak

"And when she's gone, remember, you once loved her, you once needed her, you once cared about her more than anything in the world. You can't deny she was ever there, you can't deny what you had. You can't deny that it ended over absolutely nothing. You can't deny, that regardless, you still think about it. No other girl could love you the way she did. One day you'll realize what you've done; you'll come back and she'll be gone."

I found this quote today. It has absolutely no author that I can find, but whoever is responsible for it...they touched a place in my heart. A place of both jealousy and heartbreak. That girl that loved the boy who'll come to the realization one day was me. He'll never read this. He'll never know about this, but that's okay. Lord knows that, if he's at all like me, he feels the same way. Feels that, even though it's been over six months, his heart is still broken in two and shattered. Still feels lonely. Still feels like he gave up the only thing in the world that he ever loved more than the land he walked on. In all truth, he's probably completely moved on by now, and I'll never know. It's probably just me sitting here tonight wondering about him. Wondering if I lost the only man in the world that I'll ever even consider as a soul mate. Be it. He was still a boy. And I am still a very little girl. But, you know: The first heartbreak is always the worst. Well, that's not true. Any heartbreak you experience in your entire life could be the worst one you ever had. As long as you love them enough...it'll hurt like a flaming bitch from Hell.

When we broke up, I felt like it was for absolutely nothing. I truly did, and I truly do.

Let's talk about it a little bit, shall we? It'll be a little healing for me, and perhaps a little healing for you, or anybody that reads this some day.

I am the epitome of both viewpoints in that quote. I'm the one lost, and I am also the loser, because I loved this boy more than my words can portray to you. There you go, my disclaimer.

That relationship...it was always long distance. We met online as so many people these days do. We talked for a little while. We talked a lot. We discovered that we were everything the other person was missing, like two halves of a coin somehow miraculously sawed in half and lost at two points 600 miles away from each other. He was my intelligent, shy, nerd with the voice of an angel and a mind tormented by his own brilliance. I'm not completely sure what I was to him...but I know I was his woman with a beautiful laugh, a smile that melted his bones, and a mind that was almost, if not crazier, than his own. He was the guy that called you beautiful instead of hot, and looked at you like the stars were less majestic than a day spent in your arms. He was the one that held your hand and couldn't believe it belonged to someone he loved and who truly returned his feelings.

We were together for a hair less than five months. I know, you don't have to tell me that that was almost nothing in the face of the world, long-term relationships, and eternity. But sometimes you can't help what you feel for somebody. Sometimes you can't help how hard you fall.

That boy broke through my heart's defenses. I don't know how he did it, or when, or why, but I loved him almost from the beginning. He loved me too. Just as much. We were happy with each other almost every day. Of course we had our bad times, and eventually we started to withdraw from each other (as often happens when you find something like we had), but for awhile we were everything. We just...loved each other so much that it scared us to death, and was eventually the end of our relationship. Well, part of it.

Now, let's talk about what happened. What ended us. What I think was absolutely nothing, what I always will think was absolutely nothing.

When I went to visit him, everything went badly. Things went very badly. I can't emphasize that enough. I need to put that warning there, for anybody who ends up here looking for advice on long distance relationships. When you meet them. It will not be the same. Whether it goes well, or whether it goes badly, it will be very different to have them hold you and touch you in person. To see their face, their actions, the second it happens. It will be very different...trying to talk to them directly instead of over the phone. Very. Very different. Oddly enough, this wasn't what ended it...not completely, anyway.

While we were together we both had the issue of telling our parents, and family, and friends about our lovers that were 600 miles away from us that we somehow loved more than anybody else in the world. I did it. I told everybody, even my father who scared the living Hell out of me, and still does. I had to tell them, or I couldn't have gone and seen him there in the end. He, on the other hand, would tell nobody anything. I was put in a bad position. A very bad position indeed.

At the end of that five month period, I went to see him, and he was ecstatic about it. I had to take my parents with me, because...well...you don't go and see somebody you've met over the internet without having somebody in the background with a machete and a handgun just in case they turn out to truly be a serial murderer. >insert laugh<

Anyway, I'd told him about fifty times that he should tell his folks about me, but he never would. He would always say: "I'll tell them after we meet and it goes well." Bullshit, baby. Bullshit.

When we'd driven our way up to his state, my father found out from a slip of my mother's tongue that the boy hadn't told his parents about me. He flipped a bitch...several bitches, really. I spent four plus hours convincing my father not to kill my mother and me for lying about it. I figured, what he didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. The boy was going to tell his family soon enough, anyway, and if he wouldn't I'd just dump his ass. Well, then he called me in the middle of my father trying not to kill us. I told him: "honey, my father is extremely unhappy about the fact that you won't tell your family about me." Beginning of the end, right there. He gave me the usual: that he'd tell them afterwards, and I replied: "well, I don't know if I'm going to be able to see you now, but hopefully it'll all be okay." I told him I'd see him in the morning, and that I loved him.

My family and I went back to the hotel we were staying in after we'd eaten dinner, and argued for a few hours before he texted me again and told me that he'd told his family about me. I was very happy about this, and I told my family the good news. Then I found out that what he'd told his family was a lie. That I was actually from the state he lived in, except I had decided to go out of state for college. And that was the end of me. Even when telling his family the truth, he couldn't tell his family the truth. Was he really so afraid of them that he couldn't tell them about me? The only girl that had ever been good to him and loved him the way I did? The only one in the world who would never have broken his heart if he'd have just worked with me and stopped pitying himself? "I fought for this ass." That's all I could think, then.

When morning came round, my family and I went to meet him in his favorite restaurant. No, I didn't tell them that he'd lied. I wanted to see this boy, who'd been the object of my love, respect, and affection for the last four and a half months.

We pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. I grabbed my purse and stepped out of the passenger side door, and when I walked around to the other side of the car...there he was. In all his glory. I thought he was beautiful, and I'm not a fainting girl, but that day I almost fainted where I stood when I saw him looking at me from across the lot. I stopped for a second, swayed a little, and then ran into his arms the way he'd always told me he wanted me to if we ever finally saw each other in person. He hugged me tight and lifted me off my feet, then swung me around a little bit, happily. I remember that it felt right, and weird. I remember that he smelled good, and I was happy about that because of my belief in the whole pheromone business.

Then we went into the restaurant and ate breakfast, and talked a little. He mostly talked to my family because I was nervous. I interjected as I saw fit. Held his hand underneath the table. Then at the end my mother walked away and my dad told him "to protect me with his life." Several times. Vigorously, and loudly, as it is my dad's way. Of course this freaked the boy out after having told his parents about me, despite that being a lie, too.

We left after paying and walked to his car. He had his hands in his pockets and wouldn't touch me. We got in to drive where? Immediately to his parents house. All the time we talked a little, not much. Both of us being silent and scared off our asses. Him thinking lord knows what. We got to his driveway and he surprised me with a kiss. I gaped at him, when really...I should have just kissed him back. I was surprised. I can't really explain myself more than that. Nor do I wish to. Then we walked into his house, which was very nice, and beautiful. I met his parents, whom I couldn't say anything to because I didn't know exactly what lies he'd told them about me. I couldn't talk about my beautiful home, or about how much I loved their son, or about how crazy the situation was and why I didn't bloody care anyways. All I could do was be silent and hope they didn't think I was batshit crazy.

Because of his lies he couldn't hold me or touch me while they were around. We went downstairs and I looked around awkwardly for a couple of seconds before he pulled me to sit next to him while he played video games for a couple of minutes trying to calm down. All the time I just wanted to hold him and love him. After all, I only had two days with him.

He finally pulled me to lie next to him on the couch for a little while, and I was...home...is there any other way to put it? Not really. And then his mum came downstairs and he tossed me off of him and to the other side of the couch like I didn't mean anything to him at all. Like he'd just committed a sin of epic proportions.

We spent the rest of the day going around meeting all of his friends. I was okay with that...but I thought I was going to get to see him more than that. That I was going to get to spend all day with him...alone, and happy. Now, if you know me, you know that I don't like to be thrown into groups of people I don't know. Then you put me in a state I've been to once, with an angry family, and a boyfriend who just keeps lying about me? Who wouldn't hold my hand in front of his friends or kiss me when anybody else was looking? You've not got a very happy girl. Not at all. And you've got a girl that's scared as Hell to do anything or be herself. Who's being more silent than death itself because of all the things you've just put her through in a day.

Despite all of this, during the time he was holding me and loving me, I was very happy. I just couldn't get myself to say anything. He was still everything I loved...but he'd hurt me. It wasn't anything I couldn't get over. No. That wasn't until we got back to his place late at night, we went back downstairs, and he was kissing me...I realized: I hadn't told him "I love you" the entire time I'd been there. I was too worried about everything else. So, I told him. I told him, "I love you."

He looked at me for a few seconds, and then somewhat grudgingly replied that he, "loved me too. But...Baby...I can't do this."

What?

My heart shattered. He pushed me a little away from him and I put my cardigan back on. He'd just told me he didn't want me. After all I'd done for him...he didn't want me. Sure. It didn't go that well that day...but we could've worked it out. Of course it was going to be different and scary and not everything was going to go well...but he told me he couldn't be with me.

I asked him why...and he told me, "because...I don't...it's because...I'm afraid we'll end up hurting each other. And I'm afraid that I haven't gone out and been a college boy enough...done enough crazy things." He told me, in layman's terms: "I haven't screwed enough things, so I don't know if I'll be happy with you in the long run." I do know, that this was him trying to save me heartbreak, that really...he was just afraid of everything that happened, that he was still struggling with his self-deprecating ways and his internal self-loathing that I'd done a great deal to heal...I knew it was still there, and that's why. But, for the life of me. I couldn't fix it.

I couldn't fix it.

.

.

.

I couldn't fix it.

.

.

I just. Couldn't. Fix. It.

He spent the rest of the night after this kissing me and saying that he loved me so much....and that he wished he didn't have to leave me, but hey, "water and fire were never meant to mix." (That was one of our little things. He embodied the rolling, cold, waves of the ocean, and I was like the fiery rays of light radiating from the sun) I told him, "no, baby. Fire and water...they just make steam." He replied that I always knew the right things to say to him.

After that, we went out for ice cream in the middle of the night with his little sister, whom we gave advice to because she was getting herself into a long distance relationship with a boy from England. I told her not to do it, and he told her that it was "different." I hope she didn't do it. Still, to this day, I hope. It probably would end up killing her eventually. We were 600 miles away from each other. That was 5,000.

He took me back to the hotel, and we said our goodnights. The next morning he came and sat with me in the hotel's breakfast room. We didn't talk much. I asked him if he still wanted to leave me, and he told me that he couldn't see himself with anybody else. We kissed, and we loved each other thoroughly there for a couple of hours. The way it should have been the entire time. And then he left me at four o'clock to go home. He told me later that he spent the whole time crying afterwards. As did I.

When we were at the door saying goodbye for the last time, I told him "goodbye," which is a thing I've been taught you only say when you know you'll never, ever, see a person again. He kissed me lovingly and told me,  "I won't see you...and I won't see this beautiful soul again for a really long time, will I?" I just smiled, held him for a second, and then let him go so that I could watch him disappear outside. I turned around for a second, then looked back, and he was gone.

My family and I drove home after that. Of course, I was devastated. We didn't talk for a few days. He would send me a text every once in awhile even though I'd told him to leave me alone for a little while. Eventually (about a week after I'd gotten home) we finally talked a little bit.

I don't particularly remember what he said because of the state of mind I was in at that time, but I knew he was beating around the bush. He loved me, and thought it was best to break up with me, but he didn't want to leave me either. So I left him.

I left him.

And I've refused to talk to him since. He's said a couple of things to me, but never would say anything regarding that time. Never had the courage to bring any of it up.

I wanted him back so desperately...God. I still love him. I wanted him back so desperately that I would've done or said anything to have him that way again. But I never did. I didn't want to come off as needy...as...I don't know...just...anything...I was afraid of everything.

I was afraid he'd tell me to go away again if I told him I still loved him. That I really didn't want to leave him, but at the time I felt and thought that he wasn't giving me any other choice.

If all he'd done was fight for me a little bit...told his parents about me...told me that, "God, I love you. Please. Come back to me. I love you." And looked at me with his gorgeous sad eyes and spoke to me in his beautiful voice...I would've gone back to him instantly.

I still would go back to him. Not instantly, no. But I would go back to him very happily just to escape this heartache. I thought he was my soul mate...we had a conversation once where he summarily described the wedding ring I'd been dreaming about for the last three years...and I hadn't told him anything about it or even mentioned wanting to marry him one day. No. That was all him. Then he left me.

Despite it all. I'm still okay. Writing this in itself has helped me a lot. I needed my heart healed this way, and I glued a few pieces back together tonight, because now somebody knows almost the whole story. It makes me feel better.

Nobody ever told me love would be this hard...and long distance relationships make you understand a lot of things. Like: why people cheat, and the meaning of the words, "distance makes the heart grow fonder." But, most of all, it shows you how to love with all of your heart without any other expectations. It shows you how to live with fear and overcome it. It teaches you many good life lessons. But despite all these lessons, I would tell you: don't go into a long distance relationship unless you have to. It will be one of the hardest things you ever do, and it only sometimes works out, and by sometimes, I mean: very rarely.

With all that said, I'll add this quote: "I'm not going to stress over you anymore—it isn't worth it. I tried to work something out, but you just ignored it. I'm not trying to say I don't want you, because I definitely do. All I'm saying is that I'm done chasing after you."

I think that goes for both of us, baby doll. I hope that you're happy, no matter the way you turned out after all of this. I still love you, I always will, and I'm still sure that you love me too. But it's time now, I'll have to be happy now.

I sincerely hope this has helped somebody. I hope it's helped somebody either to be healed, or to move on, or given somebody a little perspective on a situation. What happened to me, and us, was far from ideal, but I will never regret loving him. He taught my sad heart how to love, and took the walls down for somebody else, because I can't help but thinking there's somebody else out there for me that'll teach me how to love all over again and will make me forget his very name.

If not: I hope he comes back to me before it's too late. Good luck, baby doll. Make somebody love you as much as I did, and don't forget not to lie about them.

This has been,

~A Little Bit of Lonely Wisdom


"If ever there is a tomorrow when we're not together...there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart...I'll always be with you." ~A.A. Milne (From a boy to his bear)


I'll always love you, but you've proven to me that I will love somebody else more.

A Little Lonely Wisdom

I am writing this for nobody to see. I don't expect anybody to care about what I write, but for the longest time I've wanted to speak--to have a voice. One that will impact the world around me and give hope to those that lost it a long time ago. I believe in a lot of things that I shouldn't believe in: love. Respect. Soul mates, rainbows, and silver linings. I like to believe that hard work, persistence, and perseverance will get you anything you want in the world. It's all about triumphing over those things you fear the most, no matter how many times they spear you through like lightning to metal. It's about finding a way to pick yourself up despite having no one there to do it for you--even though it's to be said that having a loved one to pick you up would be better.

I'm just a lonely soul...like you. Like everybody. All of us two cent writers wanting to change the world are the same. We hope for worlds like those in our stories, where we have the choice of a happy ending even though we might opt for a tragedy in hopes of better reviews and a seemingly more original plot.

I've lost more than I care to admit, fought for less than I should have, and smiled just to keep my face looking young when all I wanted to do was cry. I'm an odd little girl. I don't feel like a woman yet, despite being a college student who's just facing the world as boldly as she can on the days she feels strong enough to. No. I'm not a woman. Though I'm modeled as one above my friends.

I'm just a little lonely person with a little lonely wisdom who grew up too fast, and grew up too slow.

I'm an old soul. I've always known that. When I was a little girl, littler than I am now, I always thought the people around me didn't know how to live, and I'll tell you I was right. All they could do was hate each other: steal each other's Barbies, spit spitballs across the room, and yell at their best friends. All I wanted to do was grow up. All I ever wanted to do was grow up and love somebody. Love somebody for everything they were. Don't ask me why that's what I wanted when I was five, but that's it. That's what it was, and that's what it is.

I was lonely then, as a child, and I'm lonely now...except now I've loved, and now I know why I wanted to love and be loved. I understand love, at least a little bit, now.

This blog will be filled with some of my wisdoms. My little lonely wisdoms for all of you to share in, presuming that there ever will be anybody. It will also contain some of my life stories, in fact: they'll probably be my inspirations. Let's get some things straight (and you may not like me for this): I don't care what you think about me. This is my blog, and these are my thoughts. I will tell you what I think. I won't ever necessarily write on certain days and I may disappear for months at a time, but chances are that I'll come back. I'm too addicted to talking about myself and my thoughts >insert laugh here<. I like to teach and hear stories similar to my own, or ones that are about life, the heart, mind, and soul. I like to tell people about my mistakes, and the observations I make about the world. Here, I'll tell you my little bits of lonely wisdom that come out of my long nights of thinking and loneliness. I will write what I want to write about. That will always contain something that amazed me during the day, or in my past, and a little bit of wisdom I've found somewhere deep in my heart. You'll never know who I am, but you'll always know what I'm thinking.

I reserve the right to say what I mean, and mean what I say. And yes. That was a little bit of a Dr. Seuss quote for you. You'll find out more about myself and this blog soon enough, but never enough to find me or know who I truly am. Rejoice in the mystery and let yourself be free. All you need, and all you really want is: A Little Lonely Wisdom.