letting go is the hardest part…
Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up: if a guy punches you he likes you, never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, every story we’re told, implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we’re so focused on finding our happy ending we don’t learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don’t, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn’t include a guy, maybe… it’s you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is… just… moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment - you never gave up hope.
he’s just not that into you
so much can change in so little time.
i know it’s cliche to say but i can’t believe that in another year i’ll be done with college and on to real life? definitely not ready. no where close. i’m actually hoping that in the next few months i’ll have some sort of epiphany and realize what i want to do with my life. perhaps i should spend my weekends doing more productive things than sleep in, watch daytime television, dance around my living room to pre-teen pop stars, and then drink my life away at night. ah, the joys of living in isla vista. but let’s face it, i’ll never be able to do this again in my life. i live a relatively worry free lifestyle. no complaints there.
i’d have to say that jay z describes it best:
“…without a wrinkle in today
cuz there is no tomorrow
just some picture perfect day
to last a whole lifetime
and it never ends
cos all we have to do is hit rewind
so lets just stay in the moment
smoke some weed, drink some wine
reminisce, talk some shit
forever young is in your mind…”
I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn’t know you had inside you. And it doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends… you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he’ll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you’ll go somewhere new. And you’ll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.
…and i always thought absence made the heart grow fonder
can’t sleep. fuck jetlag.