Spoiled, little, rich girl…

You don’t care that the first time I got molested I was only 15… you don’t care that even after 2 years I’m still contemplating whether or not my daughter was conceived out of rape. You wouldn’t care if I told you how broken the home inside that gorgeous house was. Because to you, I’m nothing more than a spoiled little rich girl.


A cluster fuck of emotions

That moment, when you don’t know how to think or feel.. where you can’t even write about it, even though that’s your go to method of figuring shit out. It’s that deep pit in the bottom of a sinking heart, it tells you’re depressed, but your head says your angry..  or maybe anxious.. or maybe confused. Maybe it’s just a side effect of feeling suffocated every time you try to breath. It’s that loneliness, creeping up beside you, and guilt wrapping you in it’s arms.. it’s wanting to be happy more than anything, but being too numb to feel it. What. The. Fuck.

Guys, I met this guy..

Guys, I met this guy.. and my daughter absolutely adores him, and I, absolutely adore him. Truthfully I don’t know why he likes me as much as he does, but I’m so grateful that he does; because he’s exactly what I’m looking for. Now, we’re not in a relationship… yet;  but I definitely see a future there and when I picture mine, it just makes so much more sense with him in it. He’s not my stereotypical type, in fact, he’s created a new one. I can’t stop thinking about him, and how badly I just wish he were here.. the thought of a serious relationship terrifies me, although with him it might be worth the ride.

Right when I thought It was easy…

What if I’ll never be good enough, what if I met my soul mate only to watch him walk away..


What if I’ll never truly be able to commit to someone..


Why does it feel like the sky is falling, like the earth is crashing underneath my trembling feet..


He wasn’t even that hot though, and really, we didn’t talk for that long, why do I care so much? Do I want him, or just the closure?


..Will I ever know?


They say God works in mysterious ways, but why is it that I never feel him on my rainy days?..


Why’s she so perfect? Why is she so FUCKING perfect..?


…how could you make someone so happy.. just to take it all away.

I miss you, I guess

I guess more than anything, I just want you to miss me, I wanna hear the words “I fucked up” and “I’m sorry.” But I also know they’re not gonna come my way.

I wish I didn’t get attached so easily, I wish I didn’t see you as my best friend, so when you left it didn’t hurt so god damn much; I wish you meant it when you said you didn’t have time for games. Now I’m left here wondering if you’ll come back, hoping you will, but knowing you won’t. Why do I fucking do this… why do I always fucking do this.

It’s amazing

how watching her breathe is by far the most calming thing I’ve ever seen,

how I never really knew how much I wanted her until she was here,

how surreal this whole thing still feels

looking into someone’s eyes and seeing yours look back.

Even after all these years..

Even after all these years, I wanna ask how you’re doing, I wanna hear about your day. I want you to tell me jokes that aren’t funny, knowing we’ll both laugh anyways. I miss seeing you smile, for any reason, regardless if it’s not because of me. I miss that twinkle in your eye, the one that told me how much you really cared even years down the road. No, I’m not in love with you, and am well aware you’re not in love with me either.. but sometimes, I just get to thinking. & while I’m happy in my relationship and with my life, sometimes I look at my child and think she should’ve been yours. I think about how I used to confide in you and how we would talk excessively about anything and everything, sometimes even nothing at all. I truly don’t remember much about us but I do remember the way it felt, you were a hero in my eyes, you always will be; because at the end of the day, I’ll only ever have one first love, one first kiss with you, one first.. time. & while that’s all gone away, and while I’m no longer willing to fight for something that’s no longer there, I occasionally miss the “once was” and the happy endings a teenage me dreamed of on a daily basis. I wonder where we would have really  gotten, and if I would have stayed excited. I miss the teasing, because everything was so simple back then, and I knew you didn’t mean anything but the best. I wish we could be friends, honest to god, just friends. But you’ll never forgive yourself when you look at me, and I’ll never stop putting you on a pedestal.