Funny enough, I do write about more than “how much you suck”. Although you do suck, not just you, all of you collectively, and therefore take up a decent amount of what I have to say sometimes. Other times, I didn’t write about how sucky you were at all, and wrote about how great you were and how crazy I was about you. I say was, and wrote, because I’m out of words for you. You don’t deserve them anymore, especially without offering up any of your own. I might have some and might even write them, but I promise you’ll never have to see how sucky (or great) you are on paper again, and I have a strange feeling that you’ll hate that even more. I’ll keep them all to myself until my thoughts are my own again. I am sick of boosting your ego at the expense of my vulnerability and I’m much stronger than you think I am.

Maybe you feel like I write mostly about you because that’s what you want. You might have skip around to parts that mention your name or misinterpret something without realizing it could be about someone else, or maybe you don’t read the good ones at all, the ones about me, and about things bigger than all of us. Those are the only ones there will be from now on, so you wont have any choice, if you really read all things.

I’ll write about how free I feel, how it feels to finally let go of something heavy. I’ll write about my change in heart and hearing a new song for the first time and having everything I need. I’ll write about all of the thing’s I used to be scared of that I started doing anyways and all the strangers I have met. I’ll write about the happiest I have ever been and about the other eyes and smiles I’ve been meaning to turn into words. I’ll write about the coffee date I’ll say yes to and my new favorite lemonade and how I went and sat on the same bench by the water, the one we did on the day there weren’t any clouds, and my heart didn’t feel half full. I’ll write about the butterflies I get when I think of all the different directions my life could go, the way my heart skips right before I do something beautiful and brave, and how much I make myself smile. I’ll write about the new reasons I laugh, the opposite of loneness, and love, and of all of the things I had to say left to say to you about this strange life, that you didn’t have time to listen to while I was talking. This isn’t about you though. This is about me and my words and my mind and who they belong to from now on, who they always have. This is about dancing on tables and running around my neighborhood with my new friends and about sitting on roof tops and screaming about how amazing life is and how incredible it is to even exist. This is about all of the things I have learned and realized and grown from and am better because of. This is about being doubled over in pain from laughter and waking up in my best friends bed and a room full of 60 people who I’ll never need to question will always have my back. This is about everything I have left to say that is so much more special and important than what you have chosen to hear.


Ps. Incase you are still confused, this one is not about how much you suck.




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