My Last F-You

You know, right around two years ago I sent you the “f*ck you” email. After 3 years I was finally at a point where I could let go. That email was sent with rage. I wish I could say I never looked back after sending that, but I can’t. I let you go that day but what you did to me still lingered. My longing turned into that rage I mentioned. My love turned to hate. My sadness turned to disgust.

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Notes to Neverland: Be a Grown-Up

I believe in you…

Be a grown-up.” There was a period of time when that was a common phrase you’d use. I don’t know what triggered it to start or when you stopped saying it, but it still echoes in my mind several months later. Nobody was safe from those words. Not a stranger on the street. Not me. Not even you. The first time you used them towards me I was a little offended. I felt called out. I felt guilty. I felt like I’d let you down. It seems silly because it wasn’t all that serious. You weren’t trying to make me feel any of those things. Every one of those feelings was my own. But it was your words that prompted them. Little did you know what an impact they would have on me. How long they would haunt me.

Old habits die hard.

Sometimes I think I have it all figured out. I’ve spent days, weeks, or even months making a plan, then tweaking the plan until I felt it was fail proof. The problem with this is, the plan has a lot of moving parts and in my mind, every single one of those parts has to be working perfectly for any of the other parts to work. If one part fails, the whole damn thing will fall apart. So, one little diversion from the plan will cause me to say, “fuck it,” and abandon the rest of the plan.

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