You Were Just A Douchebag In Disguise.

I’m just going to dedicate and or direct this to my favorite guy that was really good at playing the nice guy card and fooling me into thinking I had found a diamond in the rough. When really it just turns out you’re fantastic at pretending to be the good guy because you’re really just a douche.

I’m going to mark this one down as another lesson learned. A really unfair and crappy lesson to learn by the way. You’ve taught me what to look for though, in regards to the traits and types of men I need to steer clear of.

You opened up and let me in, briefly, and I trusted you with things I didn’t share with many people because I thought you were different. Ha, I guess the real joke was and is on me. You wanted me when it was convenient for you, which is a dickish move.

I thought maybe things could change, we could do it your way for awhile and something would click inside that head of yours. That hiding somewhere inside of you was this romantic version of you that would come out and re-sweep me off my feet. That would stop feeding me these “I’m better off single” lines or “I can’t give you what you want” crap.

I made countless excuses for you and your behavior towards me to my friends. They told me what you were doing wasn’t fair to me. They told me to tell you to fuck off, to stop playing with my emotions. They told me I deserve better.

You know what? They’re absolutely 100% correct.

I do deserve better. 

You made me feel bad for caring. Who does that? I apologized for worrying about you, for sharing my emotions with you. I let you make me feel needy and burdensome. I let you wear me down into thinking I wasn’t going to be anything more than a girl you just sleep with and leave the next day.

However, the only person I should really be apologizing to is myself. I should apologize to my heart for letting it get pulled through the ringer again. I should apologize for letting it go on for so long. I should apologize to myself for letting me think that there was something wrong with me, something that made me undesirable and unlovable.

I’d tell my friends they’re right and I’m sorry I didn’t listen to them sooner, because I know they were just trying to save me some tears and heartbreak.

I don’t regret you, I’ve said that so many times and I really don’t. We had some great times together. I however,  know that I’m coming out on top in this situation, so the jokes on you. I’m a stronger woman for what has transpired between us.

There’s this moment that kind of clicks when you realize you’re not crazy or in the wrong for wanting more from the person whom you’re romantically involved with. It may have taken me longer to get there, but it’s okay cause I’m there now.

You see, I can look at my reflection in the mirror and I see a beautiful, intelligent, funny, sarcastic, kick-ass woman who is going to do great things. More importantly, I see a girl who doesn’t need you. I wonder what you see when you look at yourself in the mirror. I’m pretty sure you’re so far into the charades that the real you is lost.

The difference now is that I see through all that bs and I’m no longer fooled.

There may be a time when you’ll miss me, some sort of light bulb will click, but don’t worry I’ll be okay. I learned from the best on how to only care about myself. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

So thanks for the tips.


The girl who sees right through you and is no longer impressed.


If I Didn’t Have Anxiety.

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. And I’ve had it since middle school, without even realizing what was going on with me. I just remember worrying all the time and stressing about things that other kids my age didn’t even think about.

My journey with this mental illness has been a bumpy road, to say the very least. I go through months without any symptoms, feeling carefree and happy. And then all of a sudden it hits me like lightning, and I can’t do anything to stop it.

It’s a very scary and smart disorder. Why? It makes you think things you wouldn’t normally think about. Thoughts pop into your head and you can’t make it stop. Your heart races and you can’t swallow any oxygen at all. And no matter how many times it happens, it’s still just as scary for me.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I would wake up every day with a clear head. I wouldn’t mindlessly go through my imaginary checklist, already overwhelmed about the day ahead of me.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I could go on more road trips and vacations and concerts without a care in the world. I wouldn’t have to worry about car crashes, about feeling claustrophobic, about getting freaked out over overstimulation.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I could breathe. Really breathe. With no sharp inhales. With no pain in my chest. With no panic. With no real energy lost.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I wouldn’t have to wake up the next day after drinking, already panicking about what I did or didn’t do. Already worrying. About nothing.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I’d be a more supportive friend and companion and daughter. I’d answer all the phone calls and texts. I wouldn’t cancel the plans that I was so looking forward to. I wouldn’t be misunderstood.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I’d have better self esteem. I wouldn’t question my ability to write. I wouldn’t question myself as a person. I wouldn’t question my self worth and ability to love. I would just be content with just me.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I wouldn’t have to call my parents in the middle of an anxiety attack, begging for them to pick me up just to feel a little bit safer.

If I didn’t have anxiety, my brightest days would glow in the back of my mind for eternity. I wouldn’t have to walk around with a grey cloud following me around just waiting to pounce on me.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I wouldn’t be judged. Be judged by people who don’t understand. Who don’t understand that this is an illness. It’s a chemical imbalance in my brain that I cannot help.

If I didn’t have anxiety, I wouldn’t have to even explain myself every time I meet someone new or have to walk out early. I wouldn’t have to defend myself over something that is out of my control.

 But here’s the thing —If I didn’t have anxiety, I wouldn’t be as strong as I am right now. I wouldn’t be as resilient and as brave. And I guess you could say, I wouldn’t even be me.

To The Boy Who Emotionally Destroyed Me.

I want you to imagine this: a girl sitting on her bedroom floor, dry-heaving, her body convulsing with each failed attempt at silencing the sobs, banging her fists onto the ground as she tried to make sense of it all. Now, I want you imagine my face because that girl was me, and I was never good enough for you. I was constantly coming second to dozens of other girls. You made me feel completely worthless. You emotionally ruined me.

I don’t hate you, though. Instead I want to thank you.

Despite it taking me months, I finally realized that it wasn’t me not being good enough for you, but you not being good enough for me. These words have resonated with me for some time, and I am constantly reminding myself that I deserve better than the distorted perception of love that was handed to me on a tarnished silver platter. I deserve better than being ignored, I deserve better than being manipulated, and I deserve better than you.

I know I’m not the same girl that was on my bedroom floor that night, because I would never give someone complete power over me where I lost control; complete power over me where I felt I was worthless.

I was consumed by nothing but negativity, and for a while I thought you were my only source of light. I was drowning and every single day I woke up and hoped your hand would pull me up to the surface and save me. I was wrong. That night was the night I realized your hand was never there to save me, but instead there to push me deeper below the surface. The only hand I needed was my own.

You were my darkness and it took me too long to realize this.

I know you’re a good person, but next time you ask yourself what it was you ever did to me I want you to think of the girl crying on her bedroom floor. I want you to think of the girl that couldn’t sleep because the nightmares were worse than reality, which had become her own personal hell. I want you to think of the girl who couldn’t eat because she had no appetite from the anxiety caused from thinking she did something wrong. I want you to think of the girl who hated herself so much she had to force herself to get up in the morning, only to crawl back into bed hours later. I want you to think of the girl who had countless silent breakdowns, hoping her friends wouldn’t notice. I want you to think of all the things you never saw, all the things you never experienced, all the things that were kept hidden.

And now I want you to think of the person I have become. I have to force happiness. I have to constantly seek validation from others that I am worthy. The thought of someone touching me literally makes me cringe. However, despite all that, I am thankful you were a part of my life, because you became the best and worst thing to happen to me.

I do hope you’re happy, and just know I don’t regret you. I would never wish for you to experience the same hell as me. Thank you for engulfing me in darkness, thank you for helping me grow, and thank you for pushing me further below the surface. Too many great things have come from that darkness. Too many great things have come from you.