A Open Letter to the Boy Who Let Me Forget

Dear Drew,

First, I’d like to make it clear and understood that I’m on a LOT of adder all right now.

Second… I’m sorry.

For what? Well… freaking out, not being the girl you thought I was going to be/the one you wanted me to be, not being the girl you ended up wanting to give your time to. Mostly I’m sorry for begin the girl you can’t be cool with after a break up.

I’m writing you this because I need to explain myself – and no in a way that would excuse my behavior for blowing up your phone, or in a way that would make you want me again. Because I know that won’t happen. I’m writing this because I need closure, something I’m not getting from you – therefore, I need to provide it for myself. For us both, maybe even. I say that because I don’t know where are at with this. You said it’s over, but you never gave me a real reason why. I’m still trying to make sense of it. Just like I’m still trying to make sense of what Elias did. It’s crazy because I should be over that by now.

And, I am.

In a sense.

Or not.

I don’t really know.

I don’t really know because I never dealt with those issues. I never healed. I put on a pretty new band aid over all the hurt he left behind. I put a new band aid on that was cute, and charming, and intelligent, and man, oh man, could that band-aid make me laugh. The truth is though… I only chose the band-aid because of the aisle I got it out of. I chose sit for all the wrong reasons – even worse, I started to like it, and pretty soon… I forgot about what it was hiding; the ugliness and the hurt and the pain and the betrayal I still felt from Elias. I forgot about it all, but I never healed.

You see the problem?

When the bandaid was ripped away; not only was there the sudden, stinging slap from the removal… but I was also slapped with the reminder of the previous betrayal and all the pain and the hurt that had never properly healed.

I’m sorry for the analogy and comparing you to a bandaid, but I felt it described the situation best. I used to pretend my problems and issues weren’t there, but they were and I should have dealt with them before getting involved with someone new. When you broke up with me, the reason it was so hard – it wasn’t because I’m crazy and totally psycho and going to be obsessed with you for the rest of my life.

It was because I was already hurting.

Even if I was able to pretend for a time that I wasn’t, I was and that’s the fact of it.

When you broke up with me, all those pre-existing and still unresolved issues resurfaced. That was why it hit me as hard as it did, and that’s why I overreacted the way that I did.

I’m sorry.

I’ll probably never know and never understand what happened, and what changed between us. And I need to be okay with that. I will be, eventually.

It honestly hurt so much that you walked away because I truly believed you wouldn’t. I believed it because I wanted to believe it. I needed to. I’m sorry for burdening you wight hat expectation and with my insecurities and issues.

I’m sorry for not being the person you thought I was, and for not being the person you wanted to give your time.

I genuinely think you are a wonderful person and I apologize for all the hurtful things I have said since the break up. I think you’re going to do amazing things in your life and I’m sorry I wont be there to see it, nor experience it by your side.

I’m sorry, and I wish you the best in life.

Love always,

The Girl with the Elephant Tattoo

Pledge Brothers and Pay-Back

Yeah, it’s possible I went home with and am now basically dating my ex-boyfriend’s pledge brother…

So, admittedly – when I went home with him that first night maybe I wasn’t so into him… it was just supposed to be payback… thats all. I was drunk from all the bottles of $5 wine I’d consumed, and he was cute and there, and there was something that was just telling me to do it. Maybe I just wanted to feel wanted again, for a night, just a night. Those other guys wanted me for a relationship and I wasn’t ready. I wanted a night, and I got relationship. How do I always do that?

I’ll admit it started out as just a rebound from Elias, and the fact Ducky is his pledge brother kind of made it even better. Like, fuck you, how’d you like that?! but honestly… it’s become something so much more. I really like him.

He’s everything Elias isn’t, and in the best of ways.

He’s honest with me about like everything; like, if he’s mad at me – he tells me. None of that petty, passive aggressive bullshit Elias pulled always. Plus, he told me up front that his ex would be at Okeechobee, unlike Elias who told me five minutes before it happened that I would be meeting the love of his life.

He has the same sense of humor as me. He doesn’t make me watch shitty shows like Archer and/or Family Guy that just have a not great storyline and even worse humor.

We like the same music. Well, maybe he pretends to like my music to keep me happy – but I like his music! No more lame jam band-types.

Ducky is still getting over Brooke. Which, yeah is kinda a let-down on the one hand, but also kinda great on the other because it means that we can get over someone we really loved together.

 

He’s making me feel whole again… something I didn’t think would happen for a very long time. Idk, maybe I’m just getting attached to the idea of a guy again. It’s possible, but I’m not so sure. I think it’s the real thing this time… I just hope it lasts.

He’s coming to NYC to see me for Spring Break, and I’m going to Okeechobee with him and all his friends.

 

We’ll see what happens.

 

Done [part 2]

just be done w all their bullshit, everyone else’s. not have to deal w their lies and excuses. their pathetic reasoning and pointing the finger at you for fucking up first. like it’s your fault they were a bad friend; they got sick; their dick ended up inside someone else’s – not just once though, oh no. No, it was more than a dozen times. bc its your fault they cheated on you. for an entire fucking fuck. that they had an affair w someone else. that stye had a RELATIONSHIP w someone else. while they were supposed to be w just you.

its your fault.

it always is.

because apparently everything is.

its already my fault that i can’t handle being in college and juggling only 3 fucking classes and am now failing all of them. its already my fault that I’m a failure and a half for my mom. not my dad though, he thinks I’m perfect. I’ve emailed him about this beautiful prefect clever girl who get straight As and can handle being in several different ezra curricular including starting new organizations.

he think I’m perfect.

no.

he thinks I’m my brother.

I can’t put all my happiness on Elias. i know that. and i don’t. or i try not to.

i really do try not to.

but I’m not enough

for anyone.

my mom.. elias.. sophia.. especially my dad tho.

I’m just not enough. i never am. i wish i could be, but I’ve never been enough for them.

not good enough or smart enough or skinny enough or pretty enough or nice enough or hard working enough or thoughtful enough or funny enough.

just not enough.

Taking it slow

I just don’t understand how people do it. 

We’re getting back together or at least trying to but were “taking it slow”.

How do you do that though? I don’t even know how to start from the beginning w Elias. How do you go from spending every single night w someone to only sporadically.

We say I Love You a million times a day to each other, over text and in person. But then now I’m in the hospital and I don’t even know how to ask him to come and stay w me here.

He’s like a stranger I know as well as I know the back of my hand, but still a stranger. 

Idk how to do this… Idk if I can.

I miss him

I miss the Elias I had

I miss what we had

I miss being able to call him in the middle of the night for whatever and he would come and vice versa

I miss the boy I fell in love w.

When plan A doesn’t work out, I guess lying is always a viable option, too…

Soooo a month after I broke up with my boyfriend, I found out I was pregnant.

FUCK.. am I right, or am I right???

However, when I first looked at that blue stick and found out – I had originally and immediately thought it belonged to Colin, a guy I had hooked up with 2 weeks earlier. A guy who also turned out to be friends with my ex, but I swear I swear I swear I didn’t know they knew each other!!!!

ANYWAY.

I tell Colin, he pays for part – then I get the ultrasound and it turns out I’m like way way way further along – like way further as in, completely unable to take the pill at this point and have to have the procedure, far along.

Which meant the only other person it could have been……

Was my ex.

 

I didn’t want to tell him. I couldn’t tell him. I loved him so much, and I really wanted to get back together – but how could I put yet another thing between us? Especially, something like this.

So… I did the only thing I could think to – I asked a friend for a loan. 

I could have told Elias... I should have told Elias.

But.. please understand. you HAVE to understand. what if...
what if he didn't want me to have an abortion? 

sure, he had a right to know - but in the end it is MY decision to make. whether i abort it or not. and if he didn't agree, would he try to stop me? would he even believe me? we were always so fucking careful... 

so WOULD HE even believe me?


Nonetheless, he was finally moving on from me.

I couldn’t hurt him even more than I already had.

Yes, yes I did regret breaking up with him.

Yes, yes I did still love him.

And even now, I still do.

[insert hyperlink]

 

So, when I asked my friend for the loan – Eric (my ex fuck buddy/good friend) actually and surprisingly agreed. He venom-ed me the rest of the money. I mean, I’m going to be paying him back for a long time, sure. but I don’t regret that decision.

It worked out well in a sense… When I broke up with Elias, I only did because my parents wanted me to. But, I knew. I fucking knew if I told Eli this, then he wouldn’t accept my break up – he would talk me back into it.

So, I lied.

I told him I cheated on him.

                                 Which I really really didn’t.

                     I swear.

But for so long, he thought I was fooling around with other guys…

                                  Which I really really wasn’t. 

                     I SWEAR.

But he truly believed I was… so I guess, what did it matter?

Just tell him what he wants to hear, I told myself.

It sounds crazy, but it WAS what he wanted to hear. Every time I denied it (honestly), he trusted me less and less because he thought he KNEW what I had done. He was never going to believe me. So, if I just lied and told him I had – then maybe he would finally get some sort of closure from it.

From me.

 

However; I had to cross all my t’s and dot all my i’s. I love my best friend, but I know that anyone can read her like an open book. If she thought I had cheated, then Elias would believe it because it was from my best friend, too.

The truth is: if i were to act on any infidelity… I would NOT tell Sophia. For this exact reason. She is too good a person… So, I alone would have to bare the truth.

I, alone, would bare the weight of the lie.

I, alone, will have to live with the lie.

So, I told the lie, and now… [hyperlink]

Now, I am living a life based off a whole fucking intricate web of lies, all because I knew my boyfriend would never believe me when I said I didn’t cheat – but if I “admitted” that I had – he would believe it more so even than if I told him I was born with blonde hair and presented him withphotographic proof of such.

No proof or convincing needed for this one lie. All that was needed, were those four little words.

 

I cheated on you.

And then some, to take it further…

You were not the father.

Shacker in Shackles: Part 2

The entire thing was like a scene out of OITNB. I had to get naked, squat and cough, wear an orange jumpsuit type scrubs thing. And they handed me a rolled up mattress w a toothbrush, roll of toilet paper, and a piece of paper w phone numbers of people I got off my phone to call on the phone in the cell room thing.

Don’t worry tho, they may have put me in a room w meth heads and people coming down from Ice (don’t ask me what that is, bc I have absolutely no idea…)…

But they took me in as one of their own and explained the whole process to me.

Yeah, I totally made friends w meth heads and heroin addicts in jail.

Not the drunk tank.

JAIL.

At some point, after much irritation, I found that you can’t call any phone number that has an out-of-state area code… 

SO.

This girl (whom I think was a heroin addict), offered to call her boyfriend who would then call my friend Victoria to explain what had happened. He also looked up my mugshot for me and told me I looked a hot mess. (Eye roll).

He literally got his roommate’s phone and put it up to his, so I could talk to Tori through 2 phones.

I mean, IDK about you but I think that’s hilarious.

She then called my mom to explain the situation and let her know I needed to be bailed out. Drunk. She called my mom DRUNK to tell her I needed her to bail me out of jail for selling a controlled substance. wtf.

However…

…my bail was set at $70,000 

YEAH

SERIOUSLY.

…let’s just say she wasn’t too happy. Continue reading

Shacker in Shackles: Part 1

Like any good story, it started out as any other day. By which I mean, it was so mundane, I honestly do not remember what I had been doing earlier that day leading up to the event. I remember finally getting comfortable in my bed and being ready to finally Netflix the rest of the afternoon away, until it was time to get ready for that night’s festivities.

When I heard the knock at the door, it actually crossed my mind to just ignore the person and continue my episode of Grey’s Antomy. I figure it was probably just maintenance doing a routine check of the smoke detectors or something… Boy, was I wrong.

I finally decided to just open it.

I checked through the peephole, and saw  nothing. But I didn’t think anything of it, so I still opened the door; you know, being curious and all.

What I found, was 4 older men I knew immediately were cops, or something of the like at least.

I wished I’d just stayed in bed watching Grey’s Anatomy instead.

They asked to come in. Obviously I said that was fine, bc you can’t really say no to a cop, can you?

They asked me to take them to my room, for more privacy; so, of course, I obliged.

When there, they pulled out some papers and said “we have a search warrant for your apartment” bc they had me on surveillance “dealing drugs”.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!!???

Let me make this v clear – I am not a drug dealer. I don’t sell to my friends when they want just a bump of my Coke or one of my adderall for a test. I don’t do that. I don’t share my adderall and I don’t share my Coke, or at least except this one time.

So when they said that, all I could respond w was “…what????

WHY DIDNT I STAY IN BED AND IGNORE THEM AT THE DOOR???

One of the jerks chuckled. We’ll call him Asshole 2, since Asshole 1 was doing all the talking. I think the other 2 were just there for show to make me more intimidated or something.

The rest was kind of a blur in a way, but I was completely cooperative and gave them everything I had.

I had no choice. I didn’t want to go to jail.

They told me I could be an informant instead, to which I was uneasy about agreeing to, as that meant being a snitch and narcing on my friends, and friends of friends.

While I was offering everything I had, Asshole 2 verbally came at me w “so where’s your scale?”

Me: my what?

Asshole 2: your scale, don’t play dumb.

Me: I don’t have one.

Asshole 2: I’m going to ask you again, where is your scale? We’ll find it if you don’t give it up, and you’ll only make this worse for yourself.

Me: I don’t have one!

A2: Where is it!!?

Me: I don’t have a fucking scale, I am telling you!! Christ.

A2: don’t you raise your voice at me

Me: well what am I supposed to do, I am telling you I don’t have one. Search the fucking apartment – search the kitchen – search the ceiling – search the walls. There’s no fucking scale here bc I am NOT A FUCKING DRUG DEALER.

It all went on for quite a while after that, if I’m perfectly honest w you…

Well, anyway, they took me down to the precinct so I could fill out the paperwork to become an informant. While in the car tho (which was like a tinted out and fierce looking black suv, if I weren’t so pissed off I probably would have appreciated it at the time), they started by going like “so as an informant-“

Me: I know – I have to wear a wire and turn people in. I have make 2 buys from each person before you can make an arrest. I’m aware.

Asshole 1: Jesus, is there like a class teaching all this stuff to everyone?

Me: No, I just watch a lot of cop shows and word gets around (in a sort-of DUH tone)

When we finally got there, the rest of the crew left me w Asshole 1 as I filled out forms. Name, DOB, home address, mailing address (isn’t that the same fucking thing???? I’ve never understood why they ask for them separately. So dumb, this day of age) charges, # of people to turn in (5, kill me now please – more so I don’t get murdered by some pissed off fucker), et al.

I voiced at one point, as Asshole 1 and I were sharing a conversation over what my major and minor in college were – that for obvious reasons I felt uncomfortable w being a snitch. 

To which he responded by telling me “well don’t feel too bad about it, one of your friends snitched on you.” 

HOLD UP.

They said I was caught on surveillance. I assumed that had meant like cameras on the street outside restaurants and whatever. Not that someone had NARCED on me. 

WHAT THE FUCK.

Right away, I knew exactly who it had to of been. I wasn’t a drug dealer. I’m NOT a drug dealer.

But I sold to one friend twice, the only person ever.

And honestly, I felt safe doing it since HE WAS THE ONE I BOUGHT THE COKE FROM.

So, since they are stupid idiots and left me w my phone – I immediately texted the guy I thought was my friend and whom I’d bought/sold to and was like WTF DUDE. 

Well, that didn’t quite go over so well. Emilie (the bastard, back-stabbing, snitching, loser of a friend) called Asshole 2 and told them I texted him.

Next thing I know…

handcuffs are on my wrists.

Asshole 2 is yelling and screaming at me in the car, telling me how stupid I was, and how I should expect to be expelled from school and spend the next 20 years in jail.

Which I yelled back at him telling him to shut the fuck up.

 

Fast forward 2 weeks, I learned my mugshot had been posted in every GroupMe conversation between the bar staff and owners of all establishments Downtown.

Fuck.

My.

Fucking.

Life.