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Dear Diary,

His New Year's kiss wiped the slate clean from the trauma of heartache; a balm for the ache that lingered.

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Dear diary,

Each time my boyfriend glides by my desk and runs his fingertips across my back my heart flutters like a butterfly, caught in the gentle breeze of his presence.

I can stare in those eyes all day

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Lepidoptera exotica : or descriptions and illustrations of exotic Lepidoptera - Arthur Gardiner Butler - 1874 - via e-rara

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Dear diary,

I’m feeling okay. For once smiles are saying hello again

-S

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Dear diary,

If you run with a yellow lab , prepare to fly backwards when they hault.

-S

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Dear Diary,

We all need a Jonas brother in our life

- S

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Beyond the surface

Dear diary,

I had my first therapy session. After, I parked my car and sat there for a while listening to “ I miss you, I’m sorry” by Grace Abrams on repeat…. A long while.

Digesting, I guess you could say.

I let the words of the last few nights rush my brain like a category 5 hurricane.

Falling in love in the most painful way is an understatement. It feels unjust for me to cry and hurt like this, yet here I am, creating an ocean of tears on my bathroom floor every night, desperately trying to stay afloat. Why does it hurt this much? Because, it was real

I loved him, deeply. That love was real. Maybe that’s why my heart is in pieces now. The intensity of my love has transformed into an equal measure of pain that my body is struggling to bear.

My therapist suggested I compare myself to something, and this is what sputtered from me:

“Bookstores used to intimidate me. Millions of books with vibrant covers and intriguing stories waiting to read, but everyone seemed focused on finding the latest bestseller—the one that was sold out everywhere, the one whose ending everyone already knew before even opening the pages.

I felt like the book that had been tossed aside, returned time and again. My spine was cracked, my colors faded, edges torn, and dust settled in the creases of my pages; I had been handled and overlooked.

I tried to change my cover, forcing my way into the ‘bestseller’ section, seeking validation in hopes of proving my old owners wrong. My intentions were never meant for him, yet somehow, he ended up holding me, waiting at the checkout.

He read my story, he became apart of my story. He loved my story. He handled my pages so gently careful not to cause anymore creases to the already worn print.

How do you tell your new owner that the cover that they see is mearly a disguise? But that the contents are still just as beautiful and real as they’ve always been?

How do you rip the cover off without completely destroying the book ?

How is it that a cover holds so much power of why someone wants to keep reading?!

How is it that once the cover gets removed and the torn spineless book gets discovered it gets tossed back into the clearance section?!

PLEASE TELL ME HOW ?! ”

…

at this point I’m shouting and holding my chest.

Funny thing, he used to say he was crazy or weird and sometimes told me things that people might find creepy, where I should of ran for the hills, yet here I am fucked up in the head alone and crying.

Anyway,

At this point I’m sitting in my driveway, existing.

People in my life ,(their master plan of getting me over you, and all the pain that still firmly consumed me was something I really didn’t want to do. It’s something I don’t want to do. But anything to take away this throbbing and make it all go away) I don’t deserve them.

I FaceTime my mom, tears streaming down my face as I stared blankly at the screen. Her words echoed in my mind: “ I don’t see my pops when I look at you. I see the hurt in your eyes.” That cut deeeeeep. If you know me, you’d understand how much I love my mom. Hearing her say that felt like a heavy weight on my heart. I was defeated…

I was ready to give up, I didn’t want to wake up anymore

I got an unexpected email today from my favorite beauty line titled “RE: Return” I have no idea how or why my email was attached. I read it confused and there I saw the initial email, from him to them, laughing as if this was a joke to return an order he bought because we broke up.

I sat there overthinking. — Sadness turned to more sadness turned to anger turned sadder sadness turned numbness then turned to a heavy sigh.

The funny thing, I am a beautiful novel, i am a best seller, I always have been but a stupid cover hid my beauty. he fell in love with the idea of my cover and not truly the pages inside and I’m paying the price for that, I chose to cover myself up for my own protection and all it did was hurt my best friend in the end. Simple as that, I fucked up. I am sorry to him a 10000X but it’s still not good enough. That will never be good enough. I’m not good enough

He has wants and needs, and I’m not good enough for him,it shows and that’s okay . I don’t blame him for hating me or not wanting anything to do with me and that’s okay,

On the other hand, he also lost someone who cares immensely for him and will love him no matter what, who will be proud of him for the rest of his days rooting for him on the sidelines. I could have given him the world but I just wasn’t what he wanted, he gave up on me and that’s okay too, he doesn’t owe me anything.

If I had known him in another life, if he had picked up my first edition, intertwined fingers and exchanges of smiles would be taking places this very moment.

I looked in the mirror for the last time tonight and said

“Samantha, you loved him with your whole heart. Beyond the surface, you loved him and you loved him tenaciously. To the girl you use to be and the girl you are…I forgive you”

-S

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paper museum . ~

victoriaclaregray.com

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“no one ever taught me how to apologise to my own body. how do i make amends with someone i spent half my lifetime trying to break?”

— marina v., how do you forgive and forget with yourself?