Category: present

One olive branch at a time…

I miss him. So much sometimes. He was my best friend. He was there during this time where I had no one else to talk to honestly. He made me smile and laugh. Even from miles away.

So yea! I miss him!!

And every once in a while, I send him a text. Saying hi. Sometimes I say I miss him.

And sometimes I get no response. Great. Awesome. He hates my guts and doesn’t plan on acknowledging me.

But sometimes he responds. And even if the responses are somewhat frosty, at least… he responded.

And I keep trying.

Gwen Stacy

My favorite comic book hero is Spiderman. Always has been.

But now that I’m older and wiser, I know why I love him.
Spiderman, he’s been through some shit. I mean, serious shit.

He loses his parents, his uncle, and his first love.

And somehow, with all that loss and pain, he is Spiderman.


I get it now.

So my fear at this point is that I will never get over the hurt he caused me. That this will stay with me and effect every relationship I try to have. God! It already has with, at least, one! Nevermind any underlining effects it’s had on the others.

I will like a guy and be interested in him, even go hang out with him. But there is something that just makes me suddenly scared and take five steps back. The idea of letting someone in is so frightening to me now.

I never used to be like this. I never used to be scared of meeting guys.

I want to get over that. So badly!! Because I’ve met some pretty awesome guys so far and I’d like to give one of them a shot! (That is if they are willing to give me a shot.)

And I don’t want to be somewhere with the new guy I love and see *that* guy and feel the urge to kick him over. New love should trump all the pain and hurt. I’m worried I’m not there yet.

But I haven’t found new love yet. So my fears could be completely unfounded.

So why am I taking five steps back every time?

I would like to find a guy who is kinda dorky like me. Who is funny and keep up with me in conversation. Someone who is smart and passionate about something.

I always thought that I would like someone who could code like me, so that I had someone who understood what I go through on a day to day bases. But maybe that doesn’t need to be the case.

Someone who is nice to their family and friends. Someone who likes animals, so I can trust him around mine.

Someone who would be nice to me and look out for me, even though I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. 😉

Someone who won’t try to change me and support me in my decisions.

Someone who is an amazing kisser and know what he is doing because I probably don’t.

I guess that’s my wishlist of what I’m looking for. Let’s see if this guy stands up to these standards. And hopefully I won’t take five steps back like an idiot if he does.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

The hardest part of a fall is getting back up again.
God knows that if you’d had a significant fall, all you want to do it sit on the ground and never ever experience that again.

I’ve been sitting on the ground for 3 years it feels like. I tell myself that I’m trying. I tell my friends and family that I’m trying.

But am I really?


After we had broken up (over 9 months after the accident), he would be like a ghost.

Late at night, when I’d get into my car, I’d look in the rear view mirror and think that I see him sitting in my back seat. Looking at me.

Of course, I’d turn around and look. Nothing would be there. Or I’d close my eyes and look again.
He’s alive and somewhat well (that douche). As well as can be expected probably.

But still… he was my ghost.

And I’d see him in everything…

Every book. Every song. Every movie. In a crowd. And apparently in the back seat of my car.

How strange is it to be haunted by someone that is still alive?


I was with him 2 years shy of a decade, so it wasn’t hard for our songs to always be around somehow. Or for something to remind me of him. So much of him was a part of me. I’d like to think that I was that much a part of him too.

Maybe he was seeing my ghost.


(But whatever! He’s a douche.)


As time progressed, it wouldn’t happen as much. I wouldn’t hear him in a song. Or see him in a book.

I don’t always see him in my rear view mirror anymore.


When I see someone else have a great fall, god I feel bad. Immediately.

Because I, of all people, understand how hard it is to recover. To get up.
But I guess the ghost in the rear view mirror stops appearing so much after a while. While there are the occasionally days where the idea of this loss is crushing, those days become much fewer and far between.



Am I really trying to get up though…? 3 years later…

That’s a story for another night, I guess.