Starting From Square One
It is no secret to anyone that has read anything that I have ever posted on this blog that I use it as my own personal diary. While I seem to find no problem with random people I will never meet reading my every internal thought and feeling, if you had ever met me then you might find that surprising. A little over two years ago I started writing this blog because I felt like I had something to say and I wanted to share it with my own small outreach group incase maybe somebody else was feeling the same way that I had been. I wrote about the things that bothered me and what I felt needed to be written down in order to cope with it, and even though it was a long time ago, today I truly feel like nothing has changed.
With the new year came my new thought of possibly trying to become someone who journals again, and coincidentally I was launched right back into my high school years of blogging and the never ending quest to make my feelings seem small enough to manage. Here I am back where I started. Writing to cope with a breakup that I thought my life would end over. Surprisingly enough, a little over a month later and I haven't been put in the ground yet. I guess I just came on here to vent and to say that jut because you know that you're gonna get over something doesn't mean that the road to that destination becomes any less daunting. Love is hard and fast. The feeling comes when you least expect it and before you know it you're back to where you started...on the floor dealing with the well-known, timeless addiction of attachment.
It's funny to look back on the hurt that is a first love; nothing ever feels as bad as the end of that. It's a rush of passion, lust, and everything you have ever held close being served on a plate for someone else's disposal. It's a scary and amazing feeling all at once. I was lucky enough to fall in love right when real life was becoming less of a far away thought. I gave it everything I could manage to give at the ripe age of fifteen and when the end came a year later nothing had ever hurt that bad. I always say that my best friend and my mom got me through that breakup. I cried for months and didn't feel better until about eight months later which in high-school girl world feels like a lifetime.
Now this boyfriend, or should I say ex-boyfriend, felt like the grown up love I had been pining for. He gave me everything that I asked for and more. Maybe feeling like a young woman in love is something that all teenage girls chase, and only some are lucky enough to find. I met what felt like my best friend. And in an instant, realistically less of an instant and more of a year and a half, that was ripped away. It's hard to fight the feeling that you'll always be disappointed because if nothing has changed between fifteen and nineteen then what does a girl have to hope for when it comes to love.
So here it goes...I'm back to my journaling. I'm back to my blogging. I'm back to wearing my heart on my sleeve for a group of strangers to enjoy reading and hopefully relating to. I'm here to start my healing journey for the second time around and I'm starting at square one.
Nothing excites me more.
xoxo, Molly
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