As I have more relationship one of the things I regret the most is that amount of "first" I can have with someone. That one thing i can have that is just between me & him. But the restrictions that come with this isn't just because of me but also the guy. I believe that society has a lot to do with this. As a whole premarital sex isn't that big of a deal anymore. I hear girls almost every Saturday or Sunday morning talking about the random guy they hooked up with the night before and I wont lie, I have been that girl. After a conversation with my mom over break however I realize how we run out of things to give to someone. We do our first time holding hands, our first kiss, our first I love you, our first time having sex & then after that comes ways of having sex, places, meeting someone's parents or going on an over night trip with them for a weekend. All of these moments and then you slowly run out. You meet the one and you can't have these shared first together because for everything listed one of you has already done it. it isn't that it makes the moments less significant but isn't it nice to think about the moments you two only share together and with no one else.
I'm not saying that the number of first you have together is any measure of your relationship and my rant could possibly just be a product of my craziness. What I am saying is that sometimes sharing moments of first can bond you together even long after the relationship has ended. You have those moments to look back on that will always be yours, you have each become a part of each others history forever. For example I talked to my first kiss for the first time since middle school. It was nice to catch up, to see where each other was and were we each wanted to go. We talked about old times and while there were no romantic feelings left between me and him we still have a bond that I can look back on fondly.
I'm all about living in the moment but am I the only person who is afraid of running out of first. Afraid of meeting that one person and having to tell them that I will always love them but I can't give them anything that somebody else hasn't already had?
Maybe I am. But maybe it is something we should all be worried about.
To be the rebound girl you have to have certain qualities to keep yourself from getting over involved, trust me I speak from experience. There have been numerous times I have been the rebound but have tried to convince myself that wasn't the case. After a few years of being the girl that sends boys running back to their exes or springing them forward into new ones, I'd like to think it becomes more of a science than anything else.
First off you can't fall in love, can't even think the word, use it or even a word that rhymes with it. If you start to think you might maybe love this dude then you need to peace the fuck out, because you have just lost all ability to be his rebound. Also don't ever make the mistake of thinking you are his only option. You aren't. He will prove this when he goes back to the girl or gets in a serious relationship two weeks after he kicks your ass to the curb.
Most importantly, you are for fun! Don't forget that, just because this wont end how you want it to doesn't mean you get to be a bitch the entire time. You are suppose to be fun. Don't evoke fights and don't ever EVER tell him what he can and cannot do.
As the rebound you have no right to sleepover or ask him to sleepover and you have no right to leave anything in his room. Once you are done doing your rebound duties you exchange small talk grab ALL your stuff and leave. No reason to make anything awkward but don't just hang around, if he wants you to stay then do.
As a rebound you don't just satisfy sexual need, because then you'd just be a FWB, but you also have to study together, eat together and talk. Meaning you have to be there when he is drunk and crying to when he is stressed and being an ass because of a test. You fulfill all the duties of a girlfriend without being the girlfriend. A rebound can go anywhere from a week to 6 months, don't think just because you've been around for awhile you aren't still the rebound. Trust me. You are.
You have to be hard as rocks. You can't let little comments shake you and you have to know when to bow out without getting hurt. If you don't you are no longer the rebound but the wanna be. There is nothing harder than following in the foot steps of some great girl, but someone has to do it. As the rebound you pave the way for his healing heart, show him there are good girls out there (no not you, although you are fabulous) and then set him free.
It is a tough job, but someone has to do it.
On Tuesday Maddi came home with so many thanksgiving crafts it was ridiculous. One of them was a picture of five people with the caption of "I am thankful for my family." When I asked her who the fifth person was (their family only has four) she looked at me like I had just asked the dumbest question possible and said "Well I couldn't forget you goony."
I proceeded to ask both Maddi and Mason what they were grateful for and I got the answers I was expecting: family, friends, hockey and Maddi said corn. On my drive home that night I reflected on the things in my life that I take advantage of every day. There is a quote I came across saying "Imagine if today you woke up with everything you thanked God for yesterday." Now as I sit here watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and my mom makes breakfast, I'd like to share with you an oh so typically blog post about 10 things I am thankful for.
I'm thankful for each and every person that has affected my life. This being my family, friends, Theta sisters, my wonderful roommate, my boyfriend, and the soldiers that fight for our country. But it also includes the people who broke my heart, got me in trouble and have irritated me by questioning my beliefs. I'm especially thankful for you. The challenges I have faced from my encounter with you has made me stronger than all the love in the world ever could have.
I'm thankful for the 6,935 chances I have received in life. Every morning is a chance to change something. You are never the same person from day to day and I'm thankful for every morning I've woken up and have been given this chance.
I'm thankful for self expression. Dance has always been a large part of my life and writing this blog has become a way of healthy expression. We are all truly blessed to live somewhere where we can express ourselves in anyway (legally) we deem fit.
I'm thankful for my education. Not only do I get to experience Drake Relays, a wonderful sorority, and crazy crazy weekends, but I also receive a spectacular education. Not everyone in the world can say that and I can't wait to use it to benefit others.
I am thankful for how I was raised. I never didn't feel loved, I was raised in an environment where I could develop my own opinions and was constantly reminded of those worse off than me. I was taught the importance of helping others and not to trust anyone. But more importantly, I'm thankful that I was loved at my worst, in the past, present and in the future.
I'm thankful for my religion. It has brought me closer to my grandparents and has allowed me comfort in times when it is hard to believe there is any good in the world. It hasn't always been a large part of my life but with the development of its importance through out the years I'm thankful for each sermon I have heard and each Sunday morning, for the hour I feel closest to truly being me.
I am thankful for differing opinions. For without them we would all be the same. And without the arguments that sometime come from them, my opinions wouldn't be as strong as they are.
I am thankful for support. It takes a lot of help to recover from self injury and I'm thankful for those who have always offered a helpful hand even when they don't understand. But I'm not just thankful for the support I receive but the support we can all give to each other. Whether it is after receiving a bad grade or bad news, sometimes just having someone being there is enough to be thankful for. Never having to go through anything alone.
I am thankful for being young and stupid. For having more time to make mistakes and to realize that the things that happen aren't the end of the world and that I have time to recover. Each broken heart, bad grade or ticket isn't ever going to define me as a person but just get my closer to where I truly am suppose to be.
I am thankful for peoples ability to hold on to what little innocence is left. It could be something as simple as choosing hot chocolate over coffee or flying a kite and coloring. In a world were the average grade to lose your virginity is in the 8th grade, it is refreshing to know that all hope isn't lost.
So Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy the holiday and be thankful for who you are and how you've become that way, from the good to the bad.
If I could describe my mood in a song it would be My Stupid Mouth by John Mayer. After a weekend of drinking, swimming and all sorts of stupid events I have found that I once again have said too much.
It is a problem I have always had, I think it's actually why I have my blog and why maybe I should be the only one able to read it sometimes. I ramble, I become desperate for something to say and then when I say it, it is so dumb. But I guess that is why they say think before you speak, right? You can't take back things you have said no matter how hard you try.
So then what do you do?
As I lay here in my bed nearing the hour of 3 AM, I reflect on my choices. I went from fairly harmless, to totally tragic in about a tequila sunrise and a half. From blabbing something about someone not knowing I was on speaker phone, to confessing my love before I was ready, or even drunk texting my mom about boys, you would've thought I was the newest sports car by how fast I went from zero to fucked.
But I've slowly come to the conclusion you have to move on. Apologize for what you said if necessary, blame the alcohol, the situation or just take full ownership. Either way you have to realize that people don't always think things through. If someone is willing to judge you enough that they change their entire perspective on you by one stupid thing you said then chances are they shouldn't have ever been your friend in the first place (unless of course you meant what you said in which case..) & I will be the first to say that I need to change my ways too. I need to be less loose with my thoughts, which again should be another reason this blog because just for me.
As much as I wish I could go back to friday and saturday night and change what I did and how I dealt with situations I can't. And unless I address them it is always going to feel like there is an elephant in the room.
Live & learn. My stupid mouth.
Alright, my roommate does these all the time and it has been a while since I've done one. So here goes nothing. Although, I'm not saying who is who. Only three people read this blog, you can figure it out.
10 Things to 10 People
I feel like ever since I went to college this year we have grown apart. You never answer my phone calls and every time you do it is like once we get through the basics we have nothing to talk about. You've been my best friend for years and it scares me to think that you may think I don't need you like I use to when really I need you now more than ever.
We have become so close in the past year. I can talk to you about almost anything and you have been giving some kick ass advice lately. But I wish you took better care of yourself. I get nervous when I wake up to texts about your coughing or other things. I know you can't stop with the beer but you know you have a problem too. I just wish you would let us help you. I have to talk to you about it in a few days and while I'm scared and I don't know what I'm going to say I know if I don't I'll regret it once it is too late.
There has been such a huge change in the dynamic of our friendship since freshman year. I don't know if it is because we realize this is our last year living together, or that we both have kind of started to take different paths. We can't go to every class together or lay in bed all day. We both have jobs, boyfriends (ish), different classes and different organizations which has def changed our social scene. But I am so grateful for the friendship we have been able to maintain. I can still have awkward conversations with you about anything. If this year is teaching me anything it isn't that we are going to grow apart, it's that even though we will be apart we will still be friends. Who else can I talk to about period sex or faking orgasms with?
You have become such a hypocritical bitch this year. Okay so your major is hard, change it. You don't want people to grab your boobs? Don't go out in what you wear. I get it you have a boyfriend, so instead of flirting with the Fiji at dinner maybe you should start acting like it.
It is crazy when I look back on how long we have known each other and compare it to how our relationship is now. I absolutely adore you. I love everything about you and really hope this whole thing can work out. I know I'm absolutely crazy sometimes and I truly am working on it. I love that you can open up to me about anything and that we have already worked through so much. You are really special to me. I know we both get self conscious but you really are handsome and fantastic and anything I could've ever asked for in a guy. So promise me something. Don't break my heart?
I don't know why after all these years you texting or calling me is still one of the most puzzling occurrences. You have really grown up, and I know your life hasn't gone as planned but you are at least making something of yourself. While I tell myself the dinner in summer was a bad idea, in some ways it helped me realized two things. One: Why we broke up and why I am oh so glad we did & two: Despite my subtle hatred for you, I will always care about how you are and what you are doing.
I'm glad you are happy. I don't know if you believe me when I tell you, but I am. It is incredible how it doesn't hurt to talk to you anymore after everything has changed. I'm so happy that you are comfortable with who you are and you have found someone that you like. I wish you would stop talking to you know who because I think all he is going to do is fuck things up. I love you forever. I'm so glad you are always there for me, from giving me advice to spell checking my papers. You are the best.
I just want you to realize that you are beautiful. That you will never get what you deserve from a boy. You have been my role model for years and when I think back to all the time we spent together from crying to laughing to hiding I realize that you have made me a better person. I am forever changed because I know you and I'm internally grateful for that. When I think about some of the things I endured that I never spoke up about it hurts me that it could've happened to you because I wasn't courageous enough. But I guess I will never know. I love you, to the moon and back a million times.
I love you, really I couldn't ask for a better friend sometimes. You are always honest and give me a reality check when I need it. But you need to know that you have to calm down on the harshness of some of the things you say. In your case it isn't always what you are saying but the way you say it that is the problem, and I really believe it is going to disrupt any future success you hope to have.
You need to get your act together. I love you but you have made some awful decisions in your life and they are affecting me and our family. You are old enough that you need to be able to support yourself. So stop acting like you are 15, because no one has any interest in taking care of you.
I have a test, two papers, a lesson plan, and a project due in the next two days. So naturally I'm going to blog, I'll call it my third stress reliever of the day. Yup third. Before you start reading this blog I want to warn you, its fairly open. You may disagree with some of my life decisions, so I'm here to tell you I don't care. If you can't handle reading about premarital sex, especially partaining to me, then stop here.
Seriously.
We have all heard the saying too much of a good thing is bad. For awhile I didn't believe that this was even possible, until I drank too much water and was vom bombing in the bathroom at subway. What I never planned on believing was that something that was meant to bring people together could drive them apart.
Sex is meant to build a connection, ideal it is suppose to be something that is saved for marriage and it will be a bond that connects you two together for the rest of your life. This belief has seemingly become "old fashion" which sometimes makes me wonder if there is a connection between the new belief of premarital casual sex and divorce rates. But beside the point. When I lost my virginity it was to someone I cared about, but honestly never could see my self with in the long run. And we had sex, all the time. What became something that was suppose to connect us, to make me feel closer to him, became a stress reliever, an every day thing. And after me and Romeo parted I thought it was alright that I wanted to have sex often, even though society believes that girls have zero libido. But it became evident that sex was becoming the only thing I could give, and sex isn't suppose to be a gift. It is suppose to be something that is earned, and cherished and all that bullshit you learn from your parents and church or temple. That bullshit ends up being true.
So in here is where my problem lies. I never viewed sex as a privilege. I never thought about how I should let the other person earn it and realize that I am special because I always thought that in some way I deserved to be loved like that, even if just a few times, before the guy deserved it. And sex begins to lose meaning. And I'm finding this true to happen in my relationships. I like sex, call me a nympho, but I think it is fun. I'd would prefer to bone then go to the gym as my work out, and I always feel physically great after. But maybe something I was missing is that when it is the right guy, having sex all the time begins to lose meaning. It isn't as special. And one of my biggest fears is that it will become boring.
One of my favorite movie quotes is from Love & Sex. Adam and Kate are discussing how after awhile saying I love you loses meaning, and becomes almost like saying I cheese sandwich you. It means nothing.
That is my biggest fear that one day I wont be able to express how I feel because stating my emotions will lose meaning, and physically showing them will too. I don't ever want my boyfriend to feel like I just want to have sex and that it is meaningless, and maybe the only way to do that is to realize that sometimes too much of a good thing is bad.
Like many of you know today is Veterans day, and while we pay tribute to our armed forces I would like to give special recognition to a good friend of mine. Like any relationship we have had our ups and downs, and most of them I can't remember. But last night was our last hurrah for a while. Or at least until 2012.
Yes, I am talking about Dublin. Rather it was nights (cough days) like freshman year Halloween when it forced me to get sick in the middle of the commons or like the night it granted me the opportunity of touching RB's boobs it has always been there for me when I was thirsty beyond belief on a Thursday. And while last night was a blur past ten, I'd like to pay tribute to my dearest friend by counting the 10 things I have learned from our a little over a year friendship.
Dublin makes me love everyone. EVERYONE. You spill my drink, I still love you. You dance rape me, I still love you.
I have learned what it would feel like to be an extra in porn. Yes, people having sex in the corner, I can see you.
On thursdays if you dump your ice out in the garbage can you get more drank.
You can also dump in on the floor and watch bitches fall (Cough cough sarah dropping our PMAC last year)
The bruises I wake up with aren't from dancing. They are from slipping and falling on the floor.
You can get laid every time you go to Dublin. Every. Time.
There is never toilet paper. But there is always some drunk girl in the bathroom passing out napkins.
Dublin has a weird power over me and my roommate.
It is acceptable to wear anything from an outfit that would make your grandma proud to an outfit that would make Hugh Hefner roll over in his grave (ha joking. He isn't dead yet.)
Nothing is ever a big deal. Law suits? We will be open in a month. Busted last night? See you at 8 P.M
There is something to be said about a place where you know everyone. Where being the first girl there isn't a bad thing and being off your ass by 11 is never frown upon. I had my first make out spree, my first cigarette, and my first id taken away there. From kissing girls for shots to dancing with my psych lab professor or my orientation leader, I made some of the best memories I will never remember at this fine establishment, see you in 2012 buddy.
Like most girls I have a series of test I use to tell if I am comfortable around someone. I've had people tell me its weird, but I think it is very important for you to be able to sleep around the people you keep company with. I have had boyfriends or even friends that I'm too nervous to fall asleep around because I feel like I have to entertain them or I can't stay asleep just because my body and mind can't calm down.
This is a major problem.
My first experience with sleeping next to someone was essentially my roommate. After years of sleeping in my own room I was shoved into a 15 by 15 foot space with a stranger who one the first night told me she was almost suspended in fourth grade for sexual harassment. It is like colleges are asking you to get raped or killed upon entrance.
Not saying that any of those things happened with her. Surprisingly enough the lovely Sarah has not only provided some excellent pillow talk but she can be a damn good cuddlier too. Yes. You heard me, we have slept in the same bed. But there has never been a time when I couldn't sleep with her there, there have been times where she has been gone and I can't fall asleep at all.
Then there was this phase with a boy. Who for the life of me I couldn't sleep next to. He was either sweating too much (yes just as sick as it sounds), or took up too much of the bed , or couldn't touch me at all in his sleep (this is a major problem with me when it comes to relationships, ask any of my ex boyfriends, I love to be touched). Needless to say this boy didn't last long. A few uncomfortable nights on the futon and he was told to GTFO.
So in my test, when I can sleep by someone and want to sleep by them again, when I can wake up in the morning and not want to crawl out of my skin because I'm covered in their sweat, or the person is still holding me just like the night before or having to get up and leave sounds like the most unappealing thing since the time my mom made brussel sprouts for dinner. Well this person is a winner.
There is that quote from Dr. Seuss "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." And for me, to an extent, it's true. I know that when I sleep next to someone I really like I sleep better, I'm comforted with the fact that when I wake up they will still be there. And when I sleep with out them I miss them or wake up a lot through out the night to respond to a message to said person.
Yes, I think it is important that the person can make you laugh, you can do crazy stuff together or do absolutely nothing together. I think it is important you are comfortable enough for them to see you with out make up on and in sweats, or that you can change in front of them. But if you can't sleep beside each other, not talking or having sex but just sleeping, then how can you say you really are comfortable?
I don't think there's anything more important than making peace before it's too late. & it almost always falls to the child to try to move toward the parent.
-- Jane Fonda
When I was in 5th grade I started having these very graphic and violent thoughts of my family dying, of my house catching on fire, of someone breaking into my house and killing me. Until I was in 8th grade I would lay in bed late at night and pretend I was reasoning with the robber so I could think of ways to control them. Ridiculous? Very. Did I ever get to practice these bizarre scenarios? No.
This is when I became obsessed with the idea of pretending like every moment is your last.
It is arguable that we all have moments, where we realize how fragile life can really be, but how do you make someone else realize how fragile their life is, especially when it is at risk?
My dad is diabetic, has been since he was 30. My family does the Walk to Cure Diabetes and I have seen my dad give himself shots after every meal for as long as I can remember. He coughs a lot, and at age 48 was in the hospital due to diabetic ketoacidosis.
My grandpa is diabetic. He has had a heart attack or stroke almost every year since I was in fourth grade, but he's first one was when he was fifty. He coughs, he shakes, he can't stand up on his own. He is 76.
It is scary that my dad and my grandpa who are thirty years apart have so much in common health wise. After my dad left his week long stay in the hospitals intensive care unit he had to start seeing a diabetic doctor who helps him figure out what he can eat and when he should take his shots. I've never been more aware of the way my dad walks, stands, talks, coughs, or shakes then I am now. He was instructed not to drink more than one beer every so often with a meal. And for awhile it worked. Instead of beer and vodka our refrigerator had diet coke and green tea (and wine but that was for mom). And then he started his pattern again. A beer in the basement, one in the bathroom, one in the garage (or more), and one in the kitchen.
The past few mornings I have received messages from my sister asking about dads cough, or he sounded like he was throwing up, or "was he face paler before he got sick?". This morning I got one informing me that he was back to drinking before work too.
How do you make someone value their life as much as you do?
My mom makes comments all the time about how I need to learn to accept the fact he wont be there for my graduation, my wedding, my kids. Every day these becomes more and more real.
So for once, I don't have an answer. So you tell me.
How do I make my dad realize how fragile his life is, and how much I need him around?
I'm not crazy. Or I am, but I would consider it more damaged. I've been bruised and broken, emotionally and physically. The best example I can give is a piece of paper. When you take it out for the first time, when the first person holds it it's clean and pure. Then it goes through the printer, the shredder, gets coffee split on it, your baby brother eats some of it, it gets crumpled and ripped and eventually tossed.
I fell in love for the first time when I was 15. I was fairly innocent and looked at this boy as my future, my forever. I know, I know but I wasn't always as cynical as I appear to be now. It took me years to tell him I loved him, and once I did I couldn't say it enough. But when he broke my heart, less than a year ago, my heart became that paper, and upon picking myself up out of the trash I built a wall that was suppose to protect me from all the bad guys of the world.
Unfortunately, bad guys seemed to be my thing.
And the damage continued, my trust in the male part of our world was nearly nonexistent and I started to believe that, just like Topanga from Boy Meets World, men should live under ground and only be brought out for breeding purposes. Call it daddy issues, and maybe in a few years you will be tucking dollar bills into my thong, but its deeper rooted than that.
When you first fall in love you believe that no one could ever love you the way they did, and you could never love someone more than that person. But your first love is easy. It is easy to love someone who is innocent and pure. Loving someone becomes harder the older you get, the more relationships you have, the longer you have to realize that life really does kick you in the ass. Because then you aren't loving someone who is pure and baggage free, you are falling in love with someone who is damaged or crazy. Who will over react to situations because "it has happened to them before" because it is easier to believe that everyone will hurt you instead of the fact that maybe there are good, nice guys out there. And maybe, just maybe, being the crazy one, the one who stopped believing in the truth, and that someone would actually find them to be enough, wont matter anymore. Because maybe, just maybe, you are falling in love too.
Right? Can we take our paper out of the trash and iron it out, and not only accept the coffee stains and rips but have someone else accept them too, to have someone else love us despite of them. To fall in love despite of the evidence you are damaged, and "crazy".
Is it possible that you fall in love quicker once you know what it feels like? This almost goes along with my last post about how life speeds up the older you get. Can the damage not hold you back but maybe make you fall easier? Faster? Harder? Is it because you know that this is what it feels like? or is it because you know if it falls apart you will be able to rebuild?
Why is it we fall in love quicker the more experienced we become?
Why is it that I have to catch myself before I say "love me!" or before I slip out the phrase "I think love you"?
It's because I'm damaged, because I'm crazy.
I think I may be falling in love with you.
There I wrote it.
Cause when your hourglass runs out of sand
You can't flip it over and start again
Take every breathe God gives you for what it's worth
Don't Blink
-- Kenny Chesney
Something I notice more as life goes on is that each day, month and year go by faster than the previous one. But life seems to move like this in more aspects than time. Upon coming to school I entered this "relationship" before labor day even happened. We went from studying together, to talking, to grabbing meals together, to spending a few nights together, to literally living with each other in a matter of days. About a month later it was over. And that is how I saw a lot of things happen relationship wise around campus. People would start dating and all of a sudden they were attached at the hip. I'm guilty of wanting to spend an ungodly amount of time with the person I like but why is it that college brings this change? Are we so desperate to grow up, to have some bragging story to tell to our buddies back home, or just someone to bring home for a weekend?
Is that we think we are suppose to do? So we don't have parents around to tell us what to do, so I'm going to sleep in my boyfriends bed every night. Because these things are new, being able to eat, study, drink and sleep next to the same person uninterrupted (unless of course you go to class occasionally), do we feel like we have to be doing them constantly? Or do we just really have the desire to be there all the time? Is it the feeling of being in their arms that makes you want to sleep there? What is our motivation for having these relationship on fast forward?
Everything comes fast in college; test, weight gain, drugs, alcohol and sex. But is it possible that emotions do as well? That beneath the on going struggle of text books and the haze of a black out we aren't just rebelling but actually caring for another human faster than we thought was possible. At a time in our lives were we are suppose to be selfish, slutty and irresponsible, is falling in love something that can actually happen?
*Brought to you by Thought Catalog- Ryan O'Connell*
If you love someone, you run the risk of not loving them one day. You run the risk of seeing them in a grocery store years later and hiding behind the display of bananas so you won’t have to say anything to them and pretend that the love never happened. It’s funny, isn’t it? When you run into someone like your childhood best friend (the one you haven’t seen in years, the one who became a Christian and has a Coach bag), you say hello. You hug, quickly find out what they’re doing with their life, if they’re happy, and then you move on. Sure, it’s awkward, and there might be a temporary ache in your chest afterwards (time can be unkind) but you acknowledge them, you pay tribute with a smile, a hug, a “How are you doing?”
With the people you once loved, the people that once had an all-access pass to the most intimate details of your life, you sometimes can’t pay tribute. You can’t ask them about their work, their travels, or god forbid, their family. Your mind can’t process it. They can only exist in black and white; they can either be everything or nothing. You say hello to the person you played with when you were five, and ignore the person whose cum you swallowed, who once cried to you in a cab because everything was going wrong and oh my god, you wanted to help them, wanted to save them.
Who do we hold on to and who do we force ourselves to forget? The hardest thing about love often seems to be the extremes. How quickly it can go from “hold me through the night” to “get fuck off of me.” One day you’re in a hotel gift shop with the person you love and you look over at them and start to see different things, things you wish you were never able to see. This is the beginning of the end, the beginning of “get the fuck off of me.” You know in that moment that you’ll be ignoring them five years from now in a grocery store.
You always have the ability to hate someone you love. Hate is passion just like love is passion. You must know this when you sign the love contract. “I hereby acknowledge that loving you carries the potential for disaster. I hereby acknowledge the possibility of hating your fucking guts!!!” Will this stop anyone from loving? More importantly, should it? No.
In a way, hate can be the best compliment next to love. Because the second you’re able to come up to your ex in that grocery store or on the street, you’ve healed and moved on. The love exists now in a healthy compartment in your brain or not at all. This is all very well and good, but it also means that it’s truly done. Technically, this is what’s supposed to happen. This is the path you’re supposed to be on. But losing the passion can sometimes be the hardest thing to give up. Holding on to feelings, whether it’s love or hate, reminds you that you’re still alive and that the relationship happened. Or something.
