Originally posted on Thought Catalog:

The second time you fall in love with someone, you’re going to feel so relieved. When you get your heart broken for the first time, you can’t imagine loving someone else again or having someone else love you. You worry about your ex finding love before you do, you worry about being damaged goods. And then it happens. Someone else loves you and you can sleep well at night.

The second time you fall in love with someone, it’s going to feel different. The first time felt like a dream almost. You were untouched, untainted by anyone. You accepted love with wide open arms and desperation. “Love me, love me, love me!” So you did. And then it fell apart and left you shocked to the core. You realized that people could be cruel and break your heart. You realized that people could stop meaning…

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Feeling it all

November 23, 2014

Sometimes I wish I was in a coma.


Because then I would be existing but on the simplest level.

I would not have to feel. I would not have to constantly be reminded that the rock bottom I hit before wasn’t actually my rock bottom. I would not have to constantly be let down.

I could merely breathe.

I would not feel responsible for others’ problems. I would not exhaust myself by overextending.

It is too heavy.

I do not know if I am strong enough.

I do not want to be an apathetic person, but what good comes from feeling everything too deeply?

Maybe it would be easier to be numb.

Maybe it would be easier to be heartless.

what am I?

November 19, 2014

I am like a broken glass. So shattered. So rough around the edges. How could someone get close? And if they did, they would get cut so very easily.

I am like the winter. Pretty to look at, but hard to immerse yourself in. For if you love me, I will freeze you out. My spirit is harsh, eventually wearing you down and chilling your core.

I am an open wound. Exposed and raw. You think your love can fix me. Unfortunately I cannot be healed.

It must be so very frustrating to love a person that is gray in a world full of colors.

I just hoped gray was your favorite.

re-entering the game

November 10, 2014

Let me preface this by saying I am NOWHERE near ready to even think about dating. I am just not. There is comfort in being single. I can’t get hurt. I only rely on me. I can do that.

Will I want to do that forever though?

I know heartbreak is (unfortunately) an essential part of life. You give your heart to someone and you grow with that person. Sometimes it does not work out, though. That person may not be your person or you are in different places of life or you need to work on yourself a bit. You get through it and you hope that one day, after the pain of the break up has worn off, you will reflect and gain takeaways that will make you better not only in your next relationship but as a person in general; love is a learning experience.

If I am being honest, I think I have learned enough.

I honestly can’t see myself “entering the game” again. Although the positives of a relationship are intense and amazing and wonderful, the negatives are just as strong. Why would someone risk the heartache again? Why put yourself through hell? How do you even rid yourself of the bitter taste in your mouth?

I know that time will probably answer these questions for me, just like “time heals all wounds,” but I am extremely perplexed.

For those who put themselves out there again- I applaud your strength. Go on those dates! I hope this time will be THEE time for you. Me? I think a good pair of sweats and wine are just as kind to me as any boyfriend could ever be.

The other four letter word

November 4, 2014

I want to hate you because that would be easier. To view you as the cold creature you’ve become, to see it as your loss, to realize that maybe I dodged a bullet.

But I can’t do it.

I read these articles entitled “How You Know He Wasn’t the One” or “Why You are Better Off” but none of their evidence rings true. You were romantic. You were sensitive. We weren’t just surface level. I thought we were forever.

What we had was real, or so I thought.

Was it real for you?

Or were you just really good at fooling me?

It is so hard to realize that I will never get these answers. That I will always be left with uncertainty. It isn’t fair. You were always so good with words; why are you silent now?

I have said I am sorry. I have acknowledged your hurt. You don’t have the sheer human decency to reciprocate the favor.

It must be nice to turn off your emotions that easily. Or maybe you were never emotionally invested. Maybe you were just a really good actor. In that case, it appears that I am better off without you.

But I still can’t hate you.

Because I love you.

new and (maybe) improved

November 3, 2014

Life is so weird. Being a human is so weird.

We don’t ask to be here. It just happens upon us. There is no control. We have no control.

Why waste energy on shit that is so far beyond us?

So I am letting go. I am stopping this whole control thing. Guess what? I am tired of trying to be politically correct and do what others want. Whatever my life is supposed to turn out like is going to happen, regardless of what I do. Call it faith, call it defeat, call it exhaustion: I am shedding my old self. I am going to “rebrand.” I am going to do whatever I want to do.

Pardon my french, but fuck everyone.

Maybe I have cracked, but maybe I needed this.

It is time to be selfish. It is time to be 21. It is time to be alive.

Call it Hannah 2.0.

YOUnique? no.

November 2, 2014

We are brainwashed into this idea of putting the you into unique. That being yourself is a beautiful thing. That no one is like you and that is incredible.

What if it isn’t? What if your individuality isn’t something to be proud of? To be celebrated?

I don’t self-deprecate for attention. I don’t do it for compliments. It is something that has become natural. If you lived my life, you would see that it was a necessary coping mechanism. 21 years later and I just can’t quit it. I hate myself more than I could ever hate anyone else, more than anyone could hate me. In the “dislike Hannah game” I will always win. I’ll dislike myself the most, every time.

Will I ever break away from this toxic, black bubble? Probably not. Does it matter anyway? If I was self-confident, if I was proud of myself, I would be seen as an arrogant bitch. Women aren’t supposed to be fulfilled on their own. Women should be unsure, characters seeking completion from other people, other things. We are taught to believe that we will never be enough as is.

Believe me when I say that I am not enough as is. I have no job, no love and have been stripped of any semblance of motivation or aspiration. Hear that, society? You win.

I’ll be in my bed if anyone needs me.

Originally posted on Young & Twenty:

UntitleddsfdasI’m sorry you got caught in the wrath of a troubled, self-destructive girl. I’m sorry you were the one to grab my hand, just as I was falling off the edge. You marked my insecurities and took advantage of my unhealthy habits. You knew the way I cringed at the whisper of a compliment. I lost comfort when your hands reached for mine and I surrendered my ability to defend myself, time after time.

You used my moments of weakness against me. Insisting I was the reason we would never work. It’s a relief you’re behind me for, I know I didn’t lose my prince charming. In our fairytale, you were the Jester and I was simply the joke.

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A Losing Game

October 30, 2014

It seems that Amy Winehouse’s song, Love is a Losing Game, is the truth.

You have two options when you enter into a relationship.

You can remain guarded and love from a distance, which keeps the relationship cold and inauthentic. You never get to lose yourself in someone else and experience the joy that true love brings. At the same time, if, or when, the relationship ends, you can go on being you. You kept your strong sense of sense and looked at the person as temporary anyway. It was fun while it lasted.

The other alternative is loving another person with everything that you are. This feels amazing. You are open and vulnerable and you allow a person to become your other half. You think you have found what has been missing. You now know why love is so hyped up. You feel on top of the world. But then that person is gone, and since you weren’t guarded, your whole world is rocked. How can you go on without an integral part of yourself? You feel shattered. You feel numb. You’ll never be yourself.

I don’t have much experience on the topic of relationships, but heartbreak is fucking awful in every sense, and I honestly do not know how people move on, or even enter future relationships after the fact.

When do you stop feeling like a zombie? Do you ever stop being cynical? Does it get better? Do you heal fully? Or are you like a broken bone that doesn’t set correctly, functioning averagely but never completely ok?

I need answers. I need a plan. I need to stop with the what ifs and focus on the what is. But I don’t want to. My heart is broken and I don’t care anymore. I just don’t care.

A Shell of a Person

October 29, 2014

Pain is something that I have experienced so often that I have come to regard it as a necessary evil in my life. Physical pain, emotional pain, self-inflicted pain- abuse and I have become very close over the years. Pain inflicted by a love is something I have been spared in my 21 years. Whatever the reason was, because I was too fat, too smart, too intimidating, too ugly, too emotionally unavailable, I did not experience what romantic love was until this year. It took 21 years for someone to see me as deserving and beautiful and desirable. 21 years for me to fall so fucking hard in love that now, after 21 years of being single, I cannot remember how to function without my love. Never did I fathom that the loss of the aforementioned love would hurt so much. This is a new pain. This is a real pain. And if I continue to feel like this, I don’t want 21 more years.

The only way I can describe heartbreak is feeling dead inside but still alive. Everyone sees you breathing. You still look the same, but you’re not. Your heart has been ripped out of your chest. The only person who can comfort you in this time of need is the person who did the ripping. It is a sick twist. You want to crawl into a ball.

The moments when the pain subsides play tricks on you. You feel anger and think you’re better off without them, making their flaws out to be absolutely horrific and the person undeserving of your love. This feels good.

Then you start to doubt and self-loathe, especially if you’re the one who pulled the trigger. Why did you dump them? You hurt them. You pushed them away. Your flaws were too much. You don’t deserve love and you sure as hell don’t deserve theirs. You deserve to be alone. You’re too hypercritical. You’re an ugly bitch. There is a reason you were alone for so long. This was your one shot and you blew it.

This roller coaster would not be complete unless you experienced numbness. This time allows for silent reflection. The memories you had with the person seem fake, like it was not even your life. If that person was “the one,” your soulmate, your future, then why the hell are they gone? You have questions and you get no answers.

As I sit here in a constant pain that has become all consuming, I wonder how I am going to move on. I have dealt with losing friends, fighting with family members, hating myself, feeling alone. I am used to that pain. I know what those wounds feel like and what they need in order to heal, even if only for a brief time. This pain though? This is unbearable. Especially if you fell hard, especially if this was your one true love.

There is no desire to do anything, to be anything, to feel anything good. There is no hope. Humans need companionship and intimacy and when you realize you’ll never get that again? Why try?

Your love is gone. Your other half has disappeared.

You are alone.

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