You Led Me On

Thought Catalog

At some point in the next week or so you’re going to start to wonder why I haven’t texted you back or why I haven’t had even 45 seconds to compose you a short, sassy email. “I’m supposed to be the busy one,” you’ll think. You’re going to be even more confused when you reach out again, only to realize that our iMessage thread is becoming increasingly one-colored. Well, I don’t want to be passive aggressive with you, and I can’t adequately explain my frustration in 300 characters or less. So here, sir, (I’d call you out by name but I think I’ll leave that to Taylor Swift), is your answer.

You led me on. I thought we were on the same page. I thought when you called me “babe” and told me that talking to me makes your entire day better that you meant that you hadn’t put me…

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Before Someone Loves You, You Must Love Yourself

Thought Catalog

Someone is going to touch your hand in a dark movie theater where a scary movie is playing but you can’t remember a single thing that happened in the story because you are too busy concentrating on your own breath and how close this person is to your body. They are going to reach out and touch you and it is going to feel like a thousand needles pushing into your skin at once, the kind of pain which is as much a thrill as it is an object of fear. You are going to forget how to breathe, how to look normal, how to pretend to be the person you were only a few seconds ago. And it will be good, but it won’t be love.

I dated a guy for a time who was very nice. We’re used to the descriptor “nice” as having become almost a euphemism…

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I Don’t Know What I Mean To You

This. All of this.

Thought Catalog

I have been feeling guilty about wanting to stop seeing my therapist. While discussing this, she asked me if I am very concerned with how I affect other people. Strangely, this innocuous little question sent me reeling.

My first reaction was ,“No, that doesn’t resonate with me at all.”

We both paused, waiting for me to continue.

Magically, in the best way therapy can, this opened up a new avenue into my psyche, one I would not have discovered on my own. I proceeded slowly at first.

“I think…that I…am more concerned with how others affect me.” But that didn’t sound right. Did that mean I am completely self-absorbed? Goddess forbid! I wanted to find a shred of evidence that I did care how I affect others.

When I couldn’t immediately find any, I defensively declared that it is useless to be concerned about that because it would just guessing…

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I Don’t Mind.

I wouldn’t feel so bad about the tears that flow from my eyes if I knew they’d go on to become waterfalls.

I wouldn’t miss them as much as I did the moment they rolled down my cheeks if I knew that someday, they would sustain the life of someone who feels the way I feel right now.

I wouldn’t regret the heartache I endured if I knew that somehow my sad song would play in the ears of someone who was at their breaking point.

I wouldn’t regret it if I knew they’d hear the story I left behind; written in heart ache and signed with bleeding fingers.

The breaths I struggle to take at night wouldn’t bother me so much if I knew that someone found me breathtaking.

If I knew that the lining of their lungs were painted with images of me.

Graffiti-ed walls that tell a story that words fail to articulate.

That wouldn’t bother me.

I wouldn’t mind the absence of the stars in my sky if I knew they were busy lighting up your world.

If I knew that the moon paused it’s smile for me just to give you a glance, I wouldn’t me mad.

I just want you to be happy

Even if that means I have to go without.

I don’t mind.