Got ig?

After my first heart break, I had a hard time wrapping my head around the concept that the person I knew and loved the most was slipping away into becoming a stranger again.

Her name slowly disappeared from my daily vocabulary, no longer holding the same weight it once did. The butterflies in my stomach turned to dumbbells collecting dust at the bottom of my heart. Songs about falling in love sounded like my alarms in the morning–unwanted and way too damn loud. The star scattered night sky was reminiscent of the freckles that generously kissed her cheeks so I became a moon person.

The bitterness of a broken heart finally faded into a fond memory and a highly valued lesson. I began to remember our times together with a brief sense of nostalgia when a song she once dedicated to me slivered its way into my Spotify mix. The dumbbells slowly lifted away as my heart gained its strength again. The stars glistening in the night sky transformed into hopes that she was staring up at the same ones, wishing me well, too.

I invited her to coffee a couple months ago, laughing in my head about all the ways I remembered her. There she stood in front of me, a transformed version of the girl I once loved, beaming about trips to Europe and New York. We bantered on about our shortcomings as a couple and listened attentively to the ways we’ve grown as individuals. She joked about my obsession with constellations and how I could point out the ones that were actually planets. I laughed, forgetting that I ever preferred looking at the stars over the moon.

For years I’ve spent hours, disassociated moments, and shower thoughts thinking about how I let myself become so lost in you.  So lost in a bliss that when it all tumbled and fell, we both came out, not knowing who we were anymore.  

I think that while I have moved on, my heart still hasn’t recovered from the fact that losing you meant losing the parts of me that I left with you and I left with the lost parts of you.

You were the best part of me for an integral part of my youth.  You were the reason that love came so easily and why it was so hard to let go of.

You will always have a piece of me that I can only hope you’ll forever hold in the fondness of memories.  As for the pieces I have of you, I’ll take better care of them than I did before.

I pray to God every night for your stability.

jehovahhthickness:

Leave quiet people alone. Stop forcing them to talk if they don’t want to.

(via fomysquad)

infiniteragequit:

sothisistherapy:

ericfvckingharris:

Growing up in an abusive household is a fucking trip dude……If you’ve never had someone angrily wash a dish at you or fold a sock in your direction then how are you gonna understand why I get nervous when you quietly do the laundry, or why I ask “are you mad at me?” when you set the bag of groceries down too hard? It’s a totally different way of living and it impacts you long after you’ve left the situation.

This is so important.

Abused kids speak a language you can’t learn

(via place0fperfecti0n)