To The Toxic Relationship I Was Afraid To Let Go Of

To The Toxic Relationship I Was Afraid To Let Go Of

To my younger self... I'm sorry.
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As time goes on the question that echoes in my mind is: "why?" Why did I let someone who was so undeserving have my love, time, and affection?

We all like to think that we have what it takes to mend the damage someone carries, but the fact of the matter is we don't. Hurt people, hurt people – and it was only when I tried to heal a bruised heart mine became the one in trouble. When you're young, vulnerable and under someone's spell you don't realize that you shouldn't have to rip yourself apart to keep someone else whole. I was scared of losing someone I didn't really have and I thought it was better to have someone halfway than not at all.

The irony of it all is that I grew up in a healthy environment. I have two parents who love my sister, each other, and myself unconditionally. They practice the same values they preach, some of which being loyalty, forgiveness, and how important it is to love each other despite the flaws that consume us. Those values were engraved so deep in my heart and soul I couldn't recognize when enough was enough or when to pull back and that just because I displayed these traits didn't mean they would be reciprocated. It took me a while to figure out I had to draw the line of determination from desperation.

It was a bittersweet realization when I looked up from my treacherous journey only to see it led me to a dead end, but I have never felt so liberated.

There's no denying I came out of the storm a different person and most definitely with a different heart. There were so many important lessons learned, both good and bad but the one thing that's for certain is it took me getting lost to find myself. You don't fully understand what you deserve until you experience something you don't. I learned the importance of self-worth and how crucial it is to not beat yourself up over the "coulda, shoulda, woulda's." I learned that in order to love someone, you have to start with yourself.

I know I'm not the only one who experienced this and I know I'm not the only one who wanted to figure it out on my own terms, but what I do know is that no one deserves it. I'm in my twenties now and still unsure of the actual meaning of love, but I know with absolute certainty that what I felt then was not it. I have so much growing, learning, and experiencing to do – and I fully intend on taking only those who deserve to be with me on my journey. No more and no less.

Everyone's story is different but the one thing they have in common is that we get to decide whom we share our stories with and how they make us feel. You never know which page your story will end with, so make sure it would be one you would be happy with. I urge every single one of you to rid yourself of people who do more harm than good. Life isn't forever.

Cover Image Credit: Thought Catalog

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Sorry Not Sorry, My Parents Paid For My Coachella Trip

No haters are going to bring me down.
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This piece is intended to be a satire of an experience at Coachella.

With Coachella officially over, lives can go back to normal and we can all relive Beyonce’s performance online for years to come. Or, if you were like me and actually there, you can replay the experience in your mind for the rest of your life, holding dear to the memories of an epic weekend and a cultural experience like no other on the planet.

And I want to be clear about the Beyonce show: it really was that good.

But with any big event beloved by many, there will always be the haters on the other side. The #nochella’s, the haters of all things ‘Chella fashion. And let me just say this, the flower headbands aren’t cultural appropriation, they’re simply items of clothing used to express the stylistic tendency of a fashion-forward event.

Because yes, the music, and sure, the art, but so much of what Coachella is, really, is about the fashion and what you and your friends are wearing. It's supposed to be fun, not political! Anyway, back to the main point of this.

One of the biggest things people love to hate on about Coachella is the fact that many of the attendees have their tickets bought for them by their parents.

Sorry? It’s not my fault that my parents have enough money to buy their daughter and her friends the gift of going to one of the most amazing melting pots of all things weird and beautiful. It’s not my fault about your life, and it’s none of your business about mine.

All my life, I’ve dealt with people commenting on me, mostly liking, but there are always a few that seem upset about the way I live my life.

One time, I was riding my dolphin out in Turks and Cacaos, (“riding” is the act of holding onto their fin as they swim and you sort of glide next to them. It’s a beautiful, transformative experience between human and animal and I really think, when I looked in my dolphin’s eye, that we made a connection that will last forever) and someone I knew threw shade my way for getting to do it.

Don’t make me be the bad guy.

I felt shame for years after my 16th birthday, where my parents got me an Escalade. People at school made fun of me (especially after I drove into a ditch...oops!) and said I didn’t deserve the things I got in life.

I can think of a lot of people who probably don't deserve the things in life that they get, but you don't hear me hating on them (that's why we vote, people). Well, I’m sick of being made to feel guilty about the luxuries I’m given, because they’ve made me who I am, and I love me.

I’m a good person.

I’m not going to let the Coachella haters bring me down anymore. Did my parents buy my ticket and VIP housing? Yes. Am I sorry about that? Absolutely not.

Sorry, not sorry!

Cover Image Credit: Kaitlin Harasta

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When People Leave

Otherwise known as: the end of all good things.
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There she goes. Her car pulls out of the driveway, he picks up the last box and walks out the door, they leave you with a chaste kiss on the cheeks and, whoever it may be, is completely, unequivocally, gone.

“I’ll call you every day, you won’t even notice I’m gone!” These words were like a heavy sedative to your panic. Every day? Every day. Good. As long as I know you’re still somewhere, it’ll be fine! Everything’s fine, goodbye and now a proper congratulations because I mean it. As long as you call me, I know you’re not gone.

Then the smile leaves your view, all you see is a head of hair getting farther and farther away till it’s not there anymore. Not right next to you, it hurts when you’re wrong. A phone call—even a regular every day one—is not going to cut it; you know it’s not going to cut it, how could you be so stupid?

Not that you couldn’t stop them from leaving anyway, but come on, you could have tried begging. That might have worked. Just one more day, maybe a week? A month? A couple of years? Never leave, I don’t think I could take the sight of seeing you go. But you just did, and who would have known you’d be right! You can’t take it! Not at all. It hurts being right, too.

Alright, enough with the poetry stuff, it’s really not my thing if you haven’t noticed.

Very edgy. Not into it.

From you reading the title and getting this far I’m guessing you’re in a pretty intense level of angst. Seeing that title and being like "yeah, that relates to me"? Heavy stuff, man. I’m sorry for your loss. I think I almost understand? I mean, I really did when I started writing this but then I started feeling better, unfortunately for you.

So, I’m now here to tell you to chin the heck up. Seriously. There are more people in your life besides this one yahoo, and they all care for you so much and cannot stand seeing you this upset. You’ve indulged in your sadness and they are suffering for it; they’re worried for you. Do you really want to put them through the same emotional turmoil that you’ve had to suffer? Of course not, so put on a front, for their sake, at the very least.

Also, if you’re going to keep going like this, finishing off your cycle of grief, you should know first that it’s a long cycle. I’m just saying, if you thought you’d be sad for a little and then be happy immediately after, then you are certainly misinformed. Grieve, sure, but push yourself. Push yourself to get better, to heal. It’s true that time heals most wounds, but you also need to do your part, too. It’ll be okay, as long as you try to make it that way; then it will eventually be okay.

Also, pro-tip here: write bad poetry. Very therapeutic.

Cover Image Credit: Instagram

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