By Chelsea Fagan.

5. Nice nail polish, or no nail polish at all.

8. Take care of your body, but also treat it, because it does so much for you. Have a big, healthy salad at lunch, but enjoy the hell out of that slice of pizza for dinner.

11. Really take the time to say “thank you” when someone does something for you. Pretty Girls might take people’s kindness for granted — because they’re super hot, and everyone wants to help them — but Beautiful Girls take the time to make people feel appreciated.

12. Never apologize for taking the time to work out, or the money on a facial or whatever, because you and your health and wellness deserve these things.

13. Go with what life hands you: When life gives you bad skin (raises hand!), take extra good care when you exfoliate and moisturize, and have the most cared-for face on the block.

14. Wear what makes you feel and look good, not what’s in fashion.

15. Take long, luxurious baths or showers where you go through every treatment — even the crazy DIY hair masks you found on Pinterest.

17. When someone compliments you, don’t be afraid of accepting it with grace. It doesn’t mean you’re conceited, it means you love yourself.

19. Take a long time to get ready for special things. Luxuriate in the ritual and the pleasure of pampering yourself and making yourself even more beautiful.

20. When you work hard, reward yourself with gifts, like you would anyone else that you loved.

I’m pretty happy with my appearance overall, but I wouldn’t consider myself a Beautiful Girl yet (capital B, capital G), because A) I’m not a solid 9.5, and B) I don’t have the Beautiful Girl frame of mind. I don’t float through life on a cloud of attractiveness, confidence, and self-care. But I should! We all should. We should all treat ourselves like Beautiful Girls, especially on the days when we feel gross.

A particular letter for self to wake up.

I thought I'd share this here as well as a reminder to myself..

"

I’ve seen it happen way too many times: The nice guy loses the girl for being exactly who he is. What’s even worse is if he’s really the nice guy, he’s going to lose her and say nothing about it. He’ll accept it as something she truly wants and give her his best wishes, as she walks away being everything he could ever want. On behalf of all the nice guys out there, this is to the girl who walked out on the best thing that ever happened to her:

---

Dear Girl Who Walked Away,

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were getting yourself into. He told you he was nice. He trusted easily and gave you all he could when he could. The nice guy believes in doing things right. He was there when you needed him to be, and he went out of his way to make sure you knew just how much you could mean to someone. We live in a generation where we all have to wear masks and play parts to make it through the battlefield of dating in the 21st century. There is no such thing as giving it your all.

We like quotes on Facebook and post things on Instagram stating we want the masochist one day and the romantic the next. We play these games where being available can only happen sometimes, and playing hard-to-get must be our number one priority. Why? I thought the ultimate goal was to eventually settle down. I mean, what is the point of dating if you have no desire for it to go anywhere? If a one-night stand is what you’re looking for, leave the good guys alone and toy within the levels you lay down. Save yourself time and energy because the good guy isn’t going to make it easy to just walk away. The good guy cares, so he’ll get his explanation from you even though he knows it’ll be a load of bull.

Every girl says she likes the assh*le because he’s the challenge — the one she must break, train and force to be more than just a douchebag. Have you ever thought, however, maybe you were the girl in need of learning what it means to actually feel again? You went through something, like we all do, and because of it you changed. It’s normal and heartbreak happens, but the next assh*le didn’t fix what the first one did; he kept it the same or made it worse. His priority was not you and couldn’t be you. So now you’re bitter and closed off from anything remotely more satisfying than a one-night stand.

I won’t deny that the assh*le is fun or that a good time isn’t promised with him, but when it’s all said and done, is it ever more than just a good time? Probably not. In fact, the assh*le has a charm about him; it’s the charm you justify your pursuit with. You say, “There’s just something about him.” However, it’s probably the same quality that ended up hurting you in the past.

So you tried to push the nice guy away. When he wouldn’t go away, you pushed harder. Still, he didn’t give up and every time you pushed harder, he pulled you in even more. He ignored your fears and forced you to grow; he fought for your passions when you were too busy writing them off. He forgot your wants and focused on everything you needed. Then you walked away because he was too nice.

He gave you too much of everything you wanted, and life got too easy. You wanted conflict and hardship as if everything else in life did not promise you an endless journey of just that. This is where you failed. The nice guy has been hurt, too, he just chose to stay nice. He learned that different people were going to provide him different things in life. The nice guy also chose not to let any of it change who he was. So, he let you walk away and he called it a day. Everyone always says there are plenty of fish in the sea, and he let you go knowing this, even though it hurt.

What you don’t know is that someone else is out there, and she won’t be as foolish you. When you realize all you really want is the nice guy who cares about you too much, it’s going to be too late. Some other girl will be able to see how great he is, and she won’t waste a minute. So you lost your Ted Mosby and, I promise, to him you were Robin. The nice guys are there to give you a break, a light to something more than the games we identify our generation with.

He may have loved you too soon and it was too crazy and too much, but guys like Mosby don’t happen every day; they happen never. He got you the blue French horn, and he made you feel love when love was no longer a part of your vocabulary. You were now saying “I love you” again and remembering what it felt like.

He was the guy you were supposed to end up with, who makes everything change. I just wish you’d see it before another girl does because at the end of the day, everyone, including the nice guy you don’t deserve, is rooting only for you.

Sincerely, The Girl Who Was Too Late

"

Two words, hurt and guilty. Yes I am but I believe things will change..
Credits: x

Oh my, where I begin.

I woke up with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia because you showed up in my dream last night. We had found ourselves in each other’s presence again, in Paris of all places. You were married, and had become the owner of quite a fancy restaurant in this foreign city; I was visiting for the moment, and we came upon each other by chance. Hard as I try now to grasp and hold on to the dream, I no longer remember the exchange of words between us, but I would never be able to forget how I felt.

It was the same feeling I always got; the heightened emotions and the involuntary belief that you and I were something special, that what we had was once in a lifetime and we had let go too easily. I laid there for a few minutes after my alarm went off, overcome by this familiar yet unwelcome feeling. I looked at him sleeping next to me, and was unable to reach over and kiss him like I usually do. Your presence in my head froze my body in place, disrupted me from my usual routine.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been nearly two years since I was last in your arms, a place that I desperately and fervently wanted to stay in during that pivotal period in our lives. We were so passionate and so in love, but also young and more foolish. We each made choices that shaped the outcome of our story, which eventually led to our divergent paths. I don’t regret my decisions or blame you for yours, for they were exactly what we had wanted at those moments in time.

I miss you, but I don’t want the older and wiser you in my dream, nor the you in real life, whatever that form may be. I miss the you back then, the one who dared to kiss me in a crowded bar, who stole moments with me when no one was looking, who risked hurting others in order to inch closer to me. I was all you could see then, and nothing else mattered. We were reckless and even cruel to the people close to us, but we were blissfully happy because we finally had what we wanted for a long time – each other. We couldn’t maintain it, however, because it is not the passion that determines the longevity of a romance, but the sacrifices one is willing to make. And you and I weren’t.

We never had a clean start, or a defined break. He simply walked into my life at the appropriate moment, and I walked out of yours. For the longest time I wasn’t sure I could fully be over you, over the thought of us, over the idea that we had an epic love story to tell. But when I woke up from my trance of you this morning, I realized that I was. And I have been for a long time. You will always be significant, but I can be nostalgic for you and the memories we created, while my life simultaneously carries on without you.

I finally did kiss him this morning, returning myself to a familiar and peaceful routine. He makes me happy, and he’s the one I’m going to marry. He is everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’m thankful for the way life has turned out. I also hope that you learned from what happened with us and are not making the same mistakes with her. She gets to benefit from the loss of you and me, but I don’t mind, not anymore.

By Isabel Hershko.

Loving someone who has walls up is not a careless decision. It takes a conscious commitment to assign yourself as the one to take the first strike at the concrete surrounding their heart. These are people who have painted over their fragile skin with instant-ready cement, blocking out the feel of fingerprints and the echo of empty promises. They tell themselves that all the little nuances that make them secret romantics have to stay hidden away.

But despite it all — despite the walls and the “do not enter” sign they hang around their neck — you might just fall for them. And in some miracle of ways, they might fall for you, too.
For them, loving you will be like walking into a construction zone: messy and just a little bit dangerous. But it all will come with the promise of tearing down old walls to make room for something open and stable.

They won’t promise that they’ll be able to hit some magic switch and all of a sudden, they’ll act differently than they always have. To say so would be a lie, and both of you know it. It’s going to take some time. Walls are a stubborn sort of architecture, and they won’t come down without a fight. Just know that the first few nights you spend together, they really will want to cuddle up close to you and burrow themselves in your arms. They’ll want to, more than anything. But they also won’t want to seem needy. They’ll sleep with their backs to you, and they’ll pray that you’ll be more courageous than they are. They’ll sleep with crossed fingers and an anxious heartbeat, hoping that eventually you’ll pull them back to you and you’ll show them that it’s okay to be endearing.

They are going to shut down. All people do, at some point or another. But for the ones who have gotten used to a life of distance, the first sharp bite of unpleasant reality is going to sting the most. During your first fight, they probably won’t say a word. They probably won’t even look at you. But they’ll come around, eventually. And they will apologize for being so distant and stubborn.
They will try not to punish you for their past, and at first, they likely will fail. As hard as this unplaced punishment may seem, try not to lose your temper. If they’ve let you know that they’re making the attempts to work with you, instead of against you like they have most others, you’re on your way. All love requires work. You may be paying for someone else’s mistakes at the moment. And it may be inherently hard. But if you’re fighting together, you’ll soon reap the rewards of someone who has ventured farther into their heart than anyone else dared. A little patience goes so far.

At the heart of it all, if a person with walls has decided they love you, they mean it. To have walls means to block yourself out, and when love nestles itself in the basement of your heart, it becomes a permanent resident banging on walls and demanding to be tended to. So although at times it may seem this fight is a one sided battle, do not forget that just because you cannot see the war raging on does not mean it doesn’t exist.

If you’re smart, you know a good thing when you see one. And this person with the walls seemingly unbreakable just might be the best thing you’ll have seen in a long, long time. So when the break down and the fight seem too much, remember what you’re fighting for. Remember than underneath the layers of doubt and distance is a person with a heart that could have been molded just for you. Loving someone with walls is never easy. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, the fight is more than worth it.

Something that the twenties can relate to, myself included.

Our 20s are marked by restlessness. We reject the norms prescribed to us by a society that’s stagnant and self-interested. We revel in randomness manufactured by the hands of those we hope to impress. We refuse to accept that this is all there is.

Our expectations are tinged with hopeless idealism. We scoff at people who have settled, like those who moved back to their hometown or got engaged to their college sweetheart. We take pride in our freedom and independence while pitying our loneliness and indecision.

We’re a generation of flakes and dreamers. Just knowing that we can go anywhere and do anything gives us permission to ignore all that doesn’t fit neatly into this idea of who we are. And at times, we feel immortal. That life is a never-ending weekend of cheap beer and fish tacos and thrift stores and dance parties.

But deep down we’re terrified that we’ll wake up to find the world has moved on without us. That what we had in mind was just a misguided vision. That maybe there isn’t anyone out there who understands us the way we need to be understood. Or loves us the way we need to be loved. Or needs us the way we need to be needed.

Our 20s are exciting and confusing and wonderful and frustrating – all at the same time.
There are moments when I feel like it’s too much. That the process is too difficult. That figuring it out is too heartbreaking. And I’m not sure I’m strong enough to carry all of this weight.
Sometimes I wish I could fast forward ten years into the future, just to see how it all turns out. I wish there was a formula I could follow to get the life I think I want. I wish someone would take me by the shoulders and tell me everything will be okay.

But sometimes when I’m walking home by myself on a dimly lit street, I’m happy for no reason at all. Because I’ve never felt so alive with the possibility that anything could happen.

 

Hehe.

Gooddd morning darlings! Okay besides the fact that lil miss red decides to come today, I've got 3 good news to share. 1) I made hot earl grey tea for myself and ps; it's crazy cold in the office + it rained heavily earlier! Not that it's a big deal to pour hot water on a glass and dump the teabag in but yeah I can be pretty lazy and "starve" till lunchtime. Haha. 2) I took/steal hahaha 1 choc chip muffin from the dozen that my youngest sister baked last night and it's happily swimming in the tums now. 3) I read this article and damnnnn it's like a wakeup call for me! As much as some part of it smacks me right at the forehead, I love the pinch of humor. Especially the last sentence ladies. :P

Waiting For A Text From A Casual Partner.

First off, chill the fuck out.

You are a smart, capable, interesting, attractive and confident woman who just hasn’t had much time to see or speak to her sort-of-boyfriend for the last couple of weeks There is no reason he could have lost interest – other than just generally getting bored; which is something you can’t prevent, no matter how much you love to be in control. And even if you could do something to stop him from “going off” you for no real reason, would you want to? He’s just a dick if that’s what happened – if he’s going to stop seeing you without explanation and just hope you’ll get the message from his silence. Especially after you’ve been seeing each other for four months. ESPECIALLY since he did all the chasing to start off with and you’ve got mutual friends so you’ll still have to see each other.

But anyway, in all likelihood, he hasn’t lost interest and you’re just overreacting. He’s a boy – he probably isn’t even thinking about it; he just needs space and is a bit bored of doing all the running while you’ve been busy. Asking him to hang out this week isn’t needy or desperate or a big deal, apart from in your head where you’ve somehow blown it up to me. He doesn’t realise he was on the receiving end of a really loaded text where his reply and the time frame it arrives in mean the world to you. He’s just a dude who got a text from the girl he’s dating asking if he’d like to hang out this week, and he’ll reply when he’s ready.

When you think about it, his behaviour over the last month or so hasn’t really been much different to usual – for some reason it’s you that’s changed… go back to how you were in the beginning! Fun! Assertive! Not reactive, not overthinking – just going with the flow. I know it feels different now because you Really Like Him, but the only difference really is that you’ll be slightly hurt by a rejection. Everyone gets hurt sometimes… I know you’ve built walls up over the last few years to minimise your pain, but fortunately or otherwise, this guy has managed to break through them and you’re no longer immune. It won’t kill you to feel a bit of heartache (if that’s what this comes to) – it might even be good for you to experience rejection, Little Miss Ego.

Anyway, it’s not going to come to that because he’ll have been pleased to hear from you. Pleased you’ve made the effort for the first time in ages. And when you’re home tonight, sitting on your bed and crying along to a Taylor Swift song because you feel like no one will ever love you again, he’ll probably text you telling you his day was manic and asking when you want to set something up for.

And if all else fails just remember the single girls’ mantra: If he’s not interested, he’s an asshole.

5. “Hi, there’s a major inequity of love going on here”.

People often say that in relationships, one person always has to love the other one more. I used to think this was true but now I think it’s bullshit. Love should be mostly equal and if it’s not, the relationship can’t sustain itself. When I was with someone who loved me less, I couldn’t stick around because it was too damn painful. Every day I was somehow reminded of the inequity and it killed me. To make things worse, I knew that this person wasn’t going to have the balls to dump me so I did it for him. Rude. If you don’t love someone as much as they love you, the least you could do is dump them! 

Please read, really please read.

The modern-day situation that’s trending is something I like to call ‘intermediate dating’. It’s that thing where you’re not sure if you’re best friends, sex-buddies, boyfriend/girlfriend, or enemies with a person who you interact with regularly. How can we genuinely not be able to identify what we are with someone else? If you spend significant amounts of time together, and your time apart is full of interaction via cell phone – isn’t it safe to say that you’re with each other? Or does it not count because it was never officially discussed? Yeah, it probably doesn’t count. I mean, if you don’t even have an anniversary date, how can it be a legitimate relationship? I don’t know, and in all likelihood, the parties involved don’t have a clue either. Sadly, this is a stressful scenario that many are tangled up in today.

There’s a rise in the fear of commitment, leading to a lack of labeling. It’s simpler for some to see movies, eat dinner and talk to a person whenever there’s time, than to define themselves and have a relationship classification to live up to. So while certain people want to half-date, there are a number of people who want the whole enchilada – which is a disastrous combination. It’s hard to be relaxed about trusting someone you care about when they can be involved with anyone else, and attempt to justify it on the technicality that you’re not ‘official’. Then there’s the fact that even if you claim not to care, and have a friends-with-benefits type of connection, you’re probably destined to fail. Eventually someone will develop stronger feelings, and if they’re not reciprocated, it’s catastrophic. Most physical based relationships, with no committed agreements come with an early expiration date.
 
Guards are up. Not just people with mommy or daddy issues – but everyone. People in general seem to be especially concerned for their emotional well being going into new connections. It’s like when you see people running away from something, so without knowing what they’re evading – you run too. We’re guided naturally by instincts to protect ourselves, even if we’re just mimicking preventative measures that we see others taking. The fear of commitment and highly protected hearts are evident in multiple ways. There’s no scale to measure it, but I assure you that we’re a part of the most sarcastic, cynical generations ever. We make jokes and excessively attempt wittiness to stave off compliments, affection or the professing of feelings. Each humorous comment serves as a bouncer, rejecting people at the door of your heart. It’s not that we can’t be serious, it’s that many just don’t want to. Serious is scary.

Realistically there are plenty of other specific reasons why dating has seemingly grown more difficult. Despite there being billions of people in this world, it’s hard finding people who you can open up to, and completely trust with your heart. Ultimately we can only do our best to give others the benefit of the doubt, and treat each other as individuals. We can’t categorize a bunch, because of the behaviors of one or two not-so-great people. Yes, we see more cheating and separation than ever – but we can’t allow ourselves to date in fear of it. All a dater can hope for is that their heartbreaks and rejections weren’t for nothing. That eventually the road leads to meeting someone special. Someone who makes you feel as if you don’t need to deflect, and equally important – doesn’t deflect you. 

As real as it gets.

1. You feel compelled to be loyal.
2. You think of ways you will love them more than you think of the ways you hope they will love you.
3. You start compromising on things you thought you wouldn’t.
4. You’re happy when they are, because they are.
5. There is a sense of peace and ease that comes with the thought of them.
6. You feel challenged to be better.
7. You allow yourself to be vulnerable because you feel accepted unconditionally.
8. All of a sudden, you understand why so many people settle down.
9. You have a newfound understanding of and appreciation for your previously detrimental failed attempts at love.
10. Every part of this person enamors you. This is especially true in the beginning.
11. You keep coming back, no matter how hard it gets (and it will get hard).
12. You start counting the miles between you and the days between your birthdays. You remember what they were wearing the day you met them, what they said their favorite color is, and you start accounting for all the other little, beautiful things you’ve picked up about them, all in vivid detail.
13. You want to tell anybody who will listen of your newfound love (you’re not ashamed to be with this person).
14. Being with them is not about the vanity of having a significant other or an elaborate wedding or someone to talk to when you’re lonely. It’s who they are that keeps you.  

Written By: Brianna West 

Love is when...

I guess love is when I’m super cranky because I’ve got my period, and I’m sitting on the bed when you get home from work and even though I’m so relieved to see you, I scowl at you and complain that my belly hurts. I won’t cuddle you when you come and sit on the edge of the bed, even though all I really want to do is crawl inside you and wear your skin as a coat and your guts as a scarf, because love is gross and creepy like that. I have my period and my tummy hurts and I love you so much I want to slap you in the face.

I’ll grunt at you instead of answering your questions and I’ll be relieved when you leave the room and shut the door behind you, because I love you so much, and you should never have to receive me when I’m like this. When I’m like this I should be shackled to a wall and fed gruel that’s been slopped on the ground in front of me, and my hands should be tied behind my back so that I have to lap it up from the dirty floor with my tongue.

I guess love is when you come back, 15 minutes later, and you’ve been down to the off license and bought me my favorite biscuits, you know, the Weston’s Digestives with the chocolate on one side, even though it’s cold in the street and we’re poor and have no money to pay our rent. The way you come back to me, with the packet of biscuits in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, the way you come so silently and put these things next to me, the way you walk across the room without even displacing the air you’re moving through, makes me ashamed that you have to love someone that can be such a horrible little troll.

But still, I love you so much I am too embarrassed to apologise, and I continue to sit there with my arms crossed and my bottom lip out. I won’t even turn my head to face you, but I can see the biscuits laying on the bed between us, as you take up your position next to me, leaning against the brick wall because I’ve got all the pillows and I’m too stubborn and surly to take one. I think I love you more as we sit there, me obstinate and you so calm, a ringmaster waltzing boldly into a lion’s den.
And then without warning, my eyes lap with waves and I’m ready to look at you and say I’m sorry for being such a brat, it’s just that I feel so horrible, and I hate it here sometimes, in this tiny mouse infested apartment, their little droppings sometimes between the sheets of our mattress that lives on the floor. I hate that my tummy hurts, I hate that we don’t have a living room in our flat, that we can’t afford to go to a restaurant. I hate everything as much as I love you.

So you squeeze my hand and you say, I know, and you say we can just watch Paris Hilton’s British Best Friend and you’ll bitch about all the contestants with me and even pretend like you care. I start to cry because you are the best, and I tell you I didn’t mean it, that I love our tiny mouse infested apartment, I love it here, I love it here with you and did I mention that I love you? You say we’re going to miss the start of the program and you smile at me.

We watch Paris Hilton’s British Best Friend and you have an opinion on everything, and we complain about all the contestants like they’re friends we dislike and we’re driving back from a dinner party we just had with them, and we eat the whole packet of biscuits and drink tea until my tummy doesn’t hurt anymore and we’re holding hands. When the show is over, we go to the bathroom together and brush our teeth standing side by side in front of the mirror, like we do every night since we moved here. You poke me with the frothy tip of your brush, I pretend like I think it’s gross because I know you think the face I pull when I do that is cute, and then we have an argument about whether or not we can cross swords and you swear if I sit on the toilet you can aim your wee so it gets right between my legs and none will go on me. And like every night before, and every night after, we don’t cross swords.

Before we go to bed you lay on your tummy with your shirt off and I lay on your back squeezing your blackheads, and we talk about what happened today at work. So I guess love is when we eventually lay together in the darkness, and have our ten minutes of cuddles, then both roll to our own side of the bed because neither of us can sleep while cuddling unless we’re drunk or sad and right now we’re sober and happy. You touch your big toe against mine under the sheets and we fall asleep just like this; far enough apart to fall into dreams, but pressing together regardless.

By Kat George.

Not only can I imagine this happening in the future but this probably describes me best when it's the time of the month. I wonder when love..

Chocolate chip cookies, cancer.

“It was really good to see you,” we both say. He means, “It was really good to see you.” I mean, I still love you, but I’m not in love with you, but I don’t understand why we aren’t still in love.

Thank You Ex.

Thank you for arguing with me. You taught me the correct way to disagree, as well as the incorrect way. You pushed me to my breaking point, so now I know to never go there again.

Thank you for second-guessing every romantic gesture I made. You believing them to be nothing more than measly attempts at covering up dark secrets, only solidified their necessity. You taught me that I am more than capable of being romantic. To an almost pathetic, The Notebook, “you had me at hello” degree.

Thank you for the loss of affection. You taught me that missing compliments, absent touches, and separate sides of the bed do, in fact, affect me. I have learned that I need physical reassurance and verbal affirmation from time to time. I have also learned that such a need, is okay.

Thank you for loving me. There were moments when, without a doubt, you made me the happiest I have ever been. There were times when a stolen glance. An inside joke. A tender kiss. And a shared song, with you, sent me into a world of butterfly kisses. You taught me that I am capable of being unapologetically happy, and that I can be that happy again.
Thank you for facing a tough decision with me. You taught me that I can survive the worst imaginable situation. That I can survive it with you. And, eventually, that I can survive it without you. I have learned that I cannot change the decisions I have made, but I can learn to live with them.

Thank you for reconnecting. The ability to see palpable changes. Realistic transformations. And lingering habits, solidified the necessity of certain actions. You taught me that it is okay to turn around, and look back at what was. Just not for too long.
Thank you for ignored phone calls. You exiting stage-right from my life, was the most humane action of our entire relationship. I hated you for it, but you were the stronger of us. You saved me from myself. And you taught me that I could live in a world where you no longer existed, and flourish.

Thank you for impacting me.

Thank you for changing me.
And, finally, thank you for helping create a me who is loved. By someone else.

I Will Forget You.

I will forget you and if that doesn’t sound romantic, it’s because it isn’t. It’s a simple inevitability, a truth colder than the last night we spent together. Remember that night? When I woke up in the morning and felt nothing familiar, that’s when I knew it was over for good. At least, that’s what I think happened. I fill in the blanks sometimes because I’ve already begun to forget.

I remember the color of your hair, but not the color of your laugh. I remember your name, that one’s easy; I don’t remember how your parents say it in their native tongue (I forgot that one the second you told me). I remember that you exist, that we spent some of our time together for what now feels like a blip, a sneeze, a little nothing. But I forget everything else, like what brought us together and what drove us apart. And mostly everything that happened in between that.

I forget what it’s like to kiss you and what it’s like to want to. I forget what it feels like to hold your hand, if we ever even held hands, it feels like we didn’t. I forget what it’s like to trust you, to believe in you, to need you. I forget what it’s like to think that I’d never forget any of it. For a long time, I thought I never would. You and I both know you left ghosts behind, but they seem to have found someone new to haunt. Maybe it’s you.

The inside jokes have already dissolved into unordered words with no punchline. The gifts have been reduced to objects whose saving grace is their monetary value, no meaning and all function. There are photographs, somewhere, but I’m not the person posed in them anymore and whoever that is sitting next to me, all dressed up in your costume and wearing your mask, well, that’s not you either. But what do I know about who you are? I forget that part, if I ever knew it to begin with.

I won’t forget you the way I won’t forget the Blizzard of ’96 or the pain of getting a wisdom tooth removed. Like something that happened to me once and then unhappened to me and then didn’t matter anymore.
But I will forget you where it counts, like in the eyes and in the mornings and in the moments that felt and looked and tasted a lot like love. I will forget you in those places because I already have.

I Want To Get My Heart Broken.

Tonight I went to sleep with a broken heart.
I dreamt with a broken heart.
I know I have to stop. I’ve been good lately. I’ve been so good lately.
Every fleeting memory ignored. Sensitive topics avoided. Approaching tears pacified.
Any sign of vulnerability concealed. Pushed down to a place only God and I know about.
But all it takes is one dream.
And with fervent hesitation, and no expectations for a response, I pick up my phone and type: I miss you.

_____

I came across the file above when I was trying to clean out useless documents on my netbook, in attempt to speed up my online stream of The Big Bang Theory (I don’t even know if there’s logic in that). I was absent-mindedly deleting file after file on my computer when I came across one that stood out to me — Ivebeenthinkingaboutforever.doc. Right away I knew what it was.

I wrote it five weeks after my break-up with a guy I thought was my soul mate, and three weeks after I thought I had gotten over him. It was the emotionally raw expression of my little tragedy. I cringe when I read it again, feeling both silly for ever allowing myself that kind of expressive vulnerability, and grateful that I’m no longer affected by that relationship. We were just two people who met at the right place, at the right time, and fell in love. And, despite our relentless attempts to stay in love, we had to eventually surrender to reality and admit to ourselves that we were incompatible.

Ironically, I dreamt about my ex last night — the first time in over eight months. But this time, I didn’t wake up in tears, or feel the pangs of remorse. Instead, I felt nostalgic, though not for him or the memories we shared. I was nostalgic for feeling.

I was nostalgic for the feeling of a full heart, however heavy. I missed being in love, and loving someone so hard that I find myself going out of my way to do or say things I can’t or won’t usually because of my pride. I missed the rainbows and butterflies I imagine are floating around when I’m with someone I’m crazy about. I was nostalgic for blissful, witless, romantic glee. I missed the feeling of being so in love that it made me want to build a giant ship, fill it with people (and not enough life boats), have it hit an iceberg, sink, and leave me with nothing but a giant wooden door, only to let my significant other use it as a floating device, as I sacrificially sink to my icy death… just ‘cause I love him that much.

Given my track record, my first thought at that realization was: What the hell is wrong with me? Isn’t this exactly what I don’t want? To feel the same way I did a year ago? To feel so cataclysmically hurt that I considered moving to a different province to avoid everything and anything that remotely reminded me of him, or us? To have every waking and sleeping moment be haunted by a memory that is neither welcomed nor unwanted? Didn’t that last relationship make me want to never give myself so entirely to another man again? Do I really want to be writing shitty, depressing entries about my shitty, depressing breakups again?
Does this mean I want a boyfriend? Because I’m almost positive that I don’t want one right now. I enjoy my newfound sense of autonomy (my exes always tend to be overbearing and anxious). I love my life right now. I’m in love with the novelty of freedom and liberty. I love casually dating boys I don’t intend to love or marry. I love being able to see, dance with, hug, kiss, or fool around with whoever I want. I like being able to hold on to something that I know isn’t mine to keep. I love being happily single.

So how can one dream about a person from my past give me a sudden inclination to love someone again? And do I really want to get my heart broken again?

And after much debate, I’ve come to a conclusion that yes, I do want to get my heart smashed in to a million — no, a billion — pieces again. Yes, I want to fall in love with someone and put my faith, trust, and future in their hands, knowing that with it, I gamble both my heart and sanity. I want to meet someone who I will think is my soulmate (again), knowing that it comes with the possibility that they won’t feel the same way. I want to love someone who can potentially hurt me in that way where I can physically feel the thump of my heart dropping in to my stomach.

The heartbreak is essential to my happiness. Because the before and after of “Ivebeenthinkingaboutforever.doc” was, and is, fucking awesome. The before was fantastically perfect. I felt loved, cherished, valued, and adored. Because there was a time before that when I felt like I was living in an unbearably cute bubble of affection — a time period where in everything and anything he and I did was genuinely and nauseatingly endearing to the other. A phase in my life where I was so blindly in love that baby talk and nicknames like ‘bobo’ became acceptable behaviour from my boyfriend.

And don’t EVEN get me started on the after –- what it was like when I finally got over it. The after was when I began to find myself, remembering things about me that I had long forgotten while I was in a relationship. I remembered that I prefer tequila over beer, that I do, in fact, very much enjoy interacting with the opposite sex. I remembered that I like to dance at clubs, sing in cars, take long showers and take my time when I get ready to go out. The after was when I realized that I had the freedom to do all of these things, without the need of anybody’s approval. It is a time of egocentric independence and self-fulfilling-selfishness. It was also a stage when I re-(re)-discovered dating. When I finally kissed someone new for the first time, the novelty of the affection was electrifying.

If given the choice, I would relive that miserable August night when I dreamt with a broken heart. Because heartbreak is the core, the center, of two equally wonderful experiences — and without it, being in love and falling in love will cease to exist. I welcome heartbreak. Better yet, I embrace heartbreak. The before and after of “Ivebeenthinkingaboutforever.doc” is the trajectory of my entire 20s, summed up, and waiting to happen again. And it will happen, whether I like it or not. So I say go ahead, wear your heart on your sleeve. Love blindly and recklessly. Fall in love, get your heart smashed (and repeat). Time heals all wounds, and what doesn’t kill you only gives you something to blog about.

When Relationships Get Boring.

When we give up completely because we’ve already won someone’s heart, we tend to forget that we could lose it. Obviously we can’t recreate the first few magical months that occur when you first start dating a person forever, because the whole comfort thing naturally won’t allow it. What we can do is make sure that both ends are having their needs met. Relationship maintenance is crucial. As long as two people are mindful of the other’s feelings, things are so much more likely to run smoothly.

Here’s the big picture: we can love being a social recluse or butterfly, that’s not necessarily what’s important. At the end of the day, the person you’re doing those things with is what matters. If you love your partner, does it matter if you’re lying on the couch in matching Cheeto-finger stained Snuggies or dancing the night away in a lively club? Absolutely not. Different strokes for different folks has never been truer than when it comes to couples and their preferences. Sure, it helps to keep things interesting and add a dash of spontaneity here or there, but excitement and pleasure come in many different forms to many different people. As long as you’re making someone feel as happy as you do, the sharp objects will turn to speed bumps, and the tires will grow more durable.

Dear Men From My Past.

So, with this knowledge, I’m asking you to go find someone who can see your goodness through untainted eyes. Find someone with similar goals, lifestyles, and personalities. Find someone who validates your existence while simultaneously enriching it. Find this person, and never let them go. Stop looking for it in me, and I’ll stop looking for it in you. And then, perhaps, we can forget the pain and forgive the suffering, both inflicted and endured. Perhaps we can break the cycle and, for once, love someone that we completely and without question deserve.

This is about all I can hope for you, because it’s about all I can hope for myself. 

I Know You Don’t Watch Me Walk Away.

I have held on to you so long that my hands still clench around you. My fingertips try to press in to you one last time, to roll across your skin in a final and heroic effort to prove my identity. But you barely stir as one finger then the next has to release its grip. I move to the edge of the bed and I tell you I am leaving. I say other things too, they tumble from a wine-thick tongue but in time to come I will only ever remember this. How I say I am leaving and you mumble I’ll see you soon, and how with your eyes still closed you miss the way I shake my head, no.

I know you don’t get up after I close the door behind me. I know you don’t move to the window to watch me tremble into the night. You are not looking down to see me stumble through cracks of concrete in the heels you removed so carefully over dinner, and you don’t watch as I recede to a grey as cobbled as the street below. With no neon flash of text to say goodnight, no vibrating phone to accompany me home, I know you are already sound asleep.

It is my 35th birthday and I will not cry. One wobbly foot in front of the other on this midnight street, I walk away.

When To Keep Fighting And When To Walk Away.

When the bad outweighs the good, when the stress is constant, the arguments habitual and the weight of the burden being carried is too heavy — it may be time to walk away. A person who feels unhappy everyday, with the inability to do anything about it shouldn’t continue to be miserable. We must take care of ourselves, because ultimately it’s nobody else’s obligation to. It’s nice to have others invested in our well being, but we can’t always expect it. The person you’re with should give you feelings of pleasure the majority of the time, with those not-so-satisfied occasions coming here and there.

This dilemma isn’t necessarily restricted to daters and couples. Brothers and sisters, children and parents — any group of people who care for each other, but can’t seem to have a (mostly) loving connection face this decision. Sometimes it’s simply unhealthy to oneself to continue taking part in a cancerous relationship. When the rainy days outnumber the sunny ones, and the pain is excruciating more often than not — turn around, and put one foot in front of the other until you’ve walked far away. If it’s someone you love, but simply struggle to get along with regularly, work out the kinks. The misconception that we should be willing to meet someone we love halfway isn’t enough; let’s be prepared to meet all the way at their location. Two people willing to put in 100% over 50/50 will have a significantly stronger balance, and a likeliness to fight through, not walk away. 

25 Things I’ve Learned In My 20s.

I know I'm only 21 going on 22 but this, this is worth a read.

• You can’t date a jerk and expect to turn them into a good person. Jerks are fully committed to being unpleasant. Those brief moments of tenderness they give you are designed to trip you up and give you false hope. It’s best to stay away altogether.

• The rumors are true: your metabolism does slow down as you get older! That means if you’re still eating whatever you want, there’s a good chance you’ll start to gain an awkward amount of weight. It won’t be too drastic but your clothes will start to hang differently on your body and you’ll feel an overall feeling of unattractiveness. Start to be conscious of what you eat and strive to live a healthier lifestyle if you want to get your teen body back. (Let’s be real though, that might not ever come back.)

• You’re going to lose touch with a lot of your friends. With some people, it will be expected but with others it will feel like a punch to the stomach. No friendship is truly safe in your twenties. You’re undergoing so many personal and professional changes that there’s bound to be some casualties along the way. Don’t worry though. You’ll end up with the ones that matter. If someone’s no longer in your life, it’s for a reason.

• You’ll be jealous of everyone who’s more successful than you. That’s okay. Just transfer that jealousy into something productive, like working really hard so you can one day eclipse them and make them feel jealous of YOU.

• You’ll question every decision you make and never feel completely certain that you made the right choice. It’s pointless to wonder though. You’re here now so you might as well make it be the right decision.

• You’re going to give your heart to a few people who don’t deserve it. Then, one day you’ll come to your senses and ask them to give it back.

• You’ll see your parents get older. You’ll come home during Christmas break and see new lines developing on their faces. One day it’ll just hit you that your parents are old and going to die. There’s nothing you can do about it, besides treat them with kindness and visit as much as your budget permits.

• You’ll have a boss who makes you feel like you’re nothing. It doesn’t have to be in a Devil Wears Prada way. The cruelty can be much more subtle. Don’t let them get to you though. They have no idea who the hell you really are and you’re probably going to have their job someday so…

• Doing drugs is fun until it’s not, until it starts affecting your life in negative ways and leaves you feeling guilty and wrecked. If that happens, you should stop doing them.

• You’re going to puke in public. It’s fine. No one cares. Just puke.

• You’ll know how to make twenty dollars last an entire week because you spent almost all of your paycheck on groceries at Whole Foods and drunk cab rides. This lesson in frugality will serve you well.

• You’re going to betray your convictions. You’re going to feel shame. You’re going to continue to put yourself in situations that aren’t good for you. And then, slowly but surely, it will become less frequent. It might not ever go away completely but it won’t be as bad. In the meantime, stop shame spiraling about it. It gets you nowhere.

• Loving yourself is hard. Hating yourself is harder.

• You’re going to hook up with someone who you would never touch in the daylight sober. Just don’t freak out too much about it. Consider it to be your good deed for the day.

• You’re going to have people in your life who are toxic. They may say that they love you, they may say that they have your back, but they don’t. Get rid of them.

• You’ll have moments with someone that are so intense, it’ll feel like you’ve been electrocuted back to life. You’ll hold on to these moments for a long time. They’ll give you hope when you’re going through the motions.

• You’ll always care about your first love. That doesn’t make you crazy, it just makes you human. When relationships end, it’s not so cut and dry. You carry everyone you’ve ever loved into every relationship thereafter.

• You’ll enter your twenties as a fashion disaster and (hopefully) leave them looking fantastic. If you don’t know how to put yourself together by then, I really don’t know what to tell you.

• You’ll realize that the Internet can be a cruel son of a bitch but, you know, www.whatever.com.

• So much of what you think matters doesn’t actually matter at all. It’s kind of rude. Like, thanks for making me believe in things that are ultimately so inconsequential, you jerk.

• You’ll treat someone terribly. Whether it to be a lover or your friend, there’ll be someone whose feelings you take for granted. We focus too much on whether or not someone is hurting us. The reality is that we might actually be the one who’s hurting someone.

• Doing “grown-up things” doesn’t make you a grown up. Shopping for housewares, buying a plant, embracing domesticity — these things don’t create maturity. If you’re still a baby who hasn’t figured things out, you’ll remain a baby, no matter how many times you pay your rent on time.

• Don’t force yourself into loving anyone. If it’s not working in the beginning, it’s probably not going to work ever.

• You are so lucky to have everything that you have. Stop crying about an unreturned text message and get some perspective.

• Don’t go too long without having sex. Ever. 

6 things you shouldn't give up on.

1. Having a job you enjoy.

And it’s important to note that this doesn’t necessarily mean career. If building a demanding, complex career around which to base your definition of success and most of your time isn’t for you — that’s awesome! We live under this collective delusion that we are defined entirely by the job we do, which is an absurd notion. If you are happy doing a job that leaves you a lot of time and no stress for the rest of your endeavors, you should feel no shame in doing it. As much as someone shouldn’t toil in a service job if they dream of doing something with a corner office, someone shouldn’t feel chained to a cubicle if they long to have the freedom to get up and go when they so choose. The point is that we shouldn’t resign ourselves to making a living where we feel trapped or consumed by the job we’re doing, and we certainly shouldn’t let others tell us what it is that we should be doing, at any age. Whatever makes us happiest spending our working hours, we should do. After all, when the alarm goes off — it’s you who has to actually get up and go to work.

 

2. Being loved.

While there is no guarantee that you are just going to wake up one day and find your soulmate in the produce section of your grocery store, the idea that you should ever quit the entire game of loving and being loved because it hasn’t worked out yet is awful. Sure, the media may tell us that women fall off of some invisible cliff at the age of 30, after which they are wholly unloveable, but we all know that’s bullshit. Aside from there being many kinds of love outside of the romantic kind — all of which are wonderful and highly worth our time, if underrated — there is no expiration date on the kind of enjoyment we can find from being kind and loving to others and receiving that kindness in return. Love doesn’t have to be some blonde man in armor riding up on a white horse to take you off to the wedding registry at Neiman Marcus, but it does have to be something you’re open to.

 

3. Maintaining a nice environment.

I am the last person to be harping on someone about complete and utter cleanliness — I once left a pile of clean clothes on my couch and just kind of lived “around” them for so long that I had to re-wash them before I could put them away — but keeping things at least minimally organized certainly does help. As I’ve become progressively cleaner and cleaner, I’ve noticed that life has become unequivocally better. With an uncluttered desk, made bed, organized closet, and well-arranged cupboard, life just sails along so smoothly. Everything from your workspace to your bedroom is vastly improved with just a small amount of touching-up each day. And the funny thing is, with a little organization once daily, you’ll almost never have to “clean” again. At least, not “cleaning,” in that dreadful, I’m-going-to-have-to-dedicate-a-full-day-to-dusting-alone kind of way. It’s shocking how much better the world immediately seems when your drawers are neatly arranged by type of clothing.

 

4. Keeping good friends.

As we have to be ready for love — romantic and otherwise — we have to always be vigilant never to take friends for granted. Just because they are a constant in your life, and you (usually) don’t have sex with them, doesn’t mean they’re not people you should consider precious and worth your effort. And a friend who is not treating you well — one who makes you feel like they’re doing you a favor by deigning to hang out with you — is not a friend at all. They’re someone you need to get rid of immediately, just as you would an emotionally unfulfilling relationship. While we can often allow behavior (both on our part and those of our friends) in platonic relationships that we wouldn’t in romantic ones, it doesn’t mean that they can be any less damaging. A good friend is a precious thing, and must be taken care of on both sides.

 

5. Your body.

Whatever you feel comfortable in, body-wise, you shouldn’t be giving up on. If you feel good at a size two, eight, 16 — whatever. As long as you’re healthy and taking care of yourself (and not just lying to yourself about it), no one should stop you from looking the way you want to. No matter how much you may dislike what you see when you catch yourself in an unflattering angle in some mirror, it doesn’t mean that’s suddenly the end of your quest to be confident. And though we are all struggling with how we look and feel, everyday, and no one (no matter what they’re trying to sell), has the secrets to perfection, it doesn’t mean it’s something we can’t always be working on. We can always eat a bit healthier, be a bit more active, take a bit better care of our skin, and love ourselves a little more. But doing one without the other, or imagining that we’re going to suddenly will ourselves into a shape or size that will magically make every other problem disappear, is a dead-end. Loving and being okay with your body is a constant uphill battle, but one that is never not worth the fight.

 

6. Personal Change.

Whatever the goal is, no matter how far-fetched or inconveniently located it may seem, if it is something that makes us feel alive, we should be following it. Maybe it won’t perfectly take the form we’ve always imagined in our daydreams, and maybe it won’t happen on the timetable we would have chosen, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth moving towards every day. Even if you think that big move, or the dream career, or the house on the beach, or the championship trophy is something that you aren’t good enough for, why would you stop yourself from even trying? Why would you rather have the regret of sitting down and saying “I can’t,” rather than actively changing the things you do control and taking active steps towards what you want? We often forget that our big moments and successes are achieved in small increments — little steps that can seem almost unrelated to the bigger picture — and that is such a shame. Why is saving a dollar today that could allow you to fly to Rome tomorrow, or doing an online course this semester that will one day lead to your doctorate, not as much a cause for celebration as the end-goal itself? There is never a point at which we can no longer change, improve, or shape ourselves into what we desire. And the day you decide that your dreams are something that you’ll actively work on every day, you’ll know that every foot you’re placing is, at the very least, in the right direction.