You’d dump your trauma on me and I’d take it all happily, thinking it’d help you feel better, lighter. I thought you deserved to feel the happiest. And I’d easily swap your pain with the rare moments of joy I managed to feel. I stayed up at nights listening to you vent about your failed relationships, madly in love with you, shattering silently on the floor of my bedroom, ignoring my pain and paying heed to yours. You always came first, right? You were so dreamy, how could anyone ever hurt you? It felt absolutely cruel. I wanted to nurse your wounds and it was honestly too late when I realized that I was burning myself all throughout to warm you up. I didn’t stop though. Why would I? You were someone I’d never want to lose. You made me feel wanted for a short amount of time. Your scraps of love and attention made me feel like a queen. I felt so loved. It touched my heart. No one ever expressed that kind of love to me before. I didn’t even love myself half as much as I loved you. I was trained to be a giver, to cater to everyone else’s needs and the same pattern unfolded here. You kept depleting me of the little love I had and I didn’t mind it. We both would pour our love into you and I’d watch you bloom. You’d give your love to everyone except me. I wanted to claim a piece of your love. Your time. Your attention. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to go deep into your psyche to understand and explore every bit of you. Everything you did made me fall for you harder and harder. It seemed to me like you enjoyed hurting me. Making me wait. Watching me get jealous. Triggering my childhood wounds. You’d feel cocky and arrogant knowing I was so desperate to talk to you. I’d sacrifice my self-respect and initiate a conversation all the time. You’d play it cool. You were cool. But you were cold. And distant too. You often called me names, insulted me and made me feel like trash. You didn’t hesitate to walk all over me or use me like your punchbag. You took your anger out on me and I took the abuse not knowing how to pull myself out of the mess I got into.
I have spent sleepless nights trying to figure out what why I wasn’t enough. I questioned my worth several times. I never felt like I could match up to you. I could never meet you up there. The more I loved you, the more I began to hate myself. I didn’t love myself even half as much as I loved you. It didn’t make sense to me. But I didn’t care. Until you broke my heart. Brutally. You stabbed my back with a smile on your face. Damn, your smile. It melted my broken heart. I couldn’t bring myself to hate you. But I had to. I had to do something about it. I had nothing left. I felt hopeless and powerless. It was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. Had it been a little sooner, I wouldn’t have to move mountains to heal myself. Maybe it’d come easy.
Thank you for being the braver one among the two of us. One of us had to do it. One of us had to break my heart. Thankyou for leaving me broken. I’ve built it stronger this time. Don’t bother knocking on the door. You’re not welcome.
So i thought I’d been in love before, the butterflies, the kisses, the touching. I honestly thought I had fallen in love until I met this girl. She treat me like no one else ever did before, she made me cry with laughter, feel so complete and like the only girl in the world. People warned me away from her, even my own best friends because she had a “reputation” of playing people and hurting them bad. I didn’t listen because I believed every word that ever came out of her mouth. I believed her over my own best friend. I used to dream about relationships like this and I honestly knew it was too good to be true. She had the perfect body, perfect laugh, perfect eyes, perfect personality. I laid next to her and asked her every night… “you could have anyone in the world, why did you choose me?”. I still remember the first time she told me she loved me, the first time she kissed me, the first time she met my family. My family classed her as their own and loved her nearly as much as I did. Until she started changing. Hiding her phone, making excuses not to cuddle me or kiss me. Living together used to be so fun but all the laughter turned into tears. Finding out things I didn’t want to know from other people but I still believed everything she said. Without going into detail on the bad bits she broke my heart. The person I fell in love with turned into someone I didn’t know. I hated that person because of how she treat people, because of how she acted and didnt care about anyone but herself. I hated how she would be oblivious to everything around her. We haven’t seen eachother in a while and I don’t think I’d want to see her because she’s not the person I knew. She’s now a stranger but the person I fell in love with is still in my heart. I used to hate her for what she done to me but now I don’t. She helped me grow as a person, I became mature, She made me strong and successful at my job and I’ll forever be grateful for that. I’ve stopped being angry now I smile and laugh again, I don’t put my trust into people so easily. She taught me that you never really know someone and anyone could turn on you at any moment. I miss her a lot of the time, I think about how much I’d smile when Id catch her looking at me, how good i’d feel when she would grab my hand in public. I still listen to songs she used to listen too. I go to the places she liked to go. I eat the food she liked to eat. She introduced me to things that now make me happy and I’m now truly at peace with myself and my life. When I first met her never In a million years did I think that she would impact my life this much. My first love changed my life. I hated her for hurting me but now I thank her for making me the person I am today. This time 3 months ago I was broken but now I’m happy within myself, no more pain, tears or heart ache. It does get better. ❤️
There’s this big influenza epidemic this year. This has been the worst flu season in like 8 years I believe and the ER rooms have been flooded with patients.
But I don’t have the flu.
I have acid reflux and if you’re not familiar, its when your belly gets bloated, you hiccup nonstop and other symptoms like chest pain and what not. How it comes about, there are a variety of reasons as to why mostly with if you eat too much greasy food, eaten something different from your normal diet, etc. Its been a week I’ve had it and the hiccups and bloating have gone down immensely but that chest pain is still there and very uncomfortable. People keep telling me to go to the hospital but I hate going for:
Unhelpful
Long wait
Expensive
And that’s exactly what I got from it. I waited 4 hours to receive only a max of 10 minutes of actual face to face interaction with a doctor, a trash doctor, a higher dosage of the medicine I am currently taking, and a $100 copay bill.
I could’ve stayed home and suffered for all of this
A thing I wrote because I’m a teacher and this week I am Sick Of It:
I’m not done talking.
The hand goes up. No one is listening to my instructions, and I’m already prepared to field an endless bout of questions regarding the directions written on the paper in front of them, the same directions I’m verbalizing with additional clarity. Only when I’m finished speaking will they pay attention, perk up and out of a blank, dead-eyed daze to ask:
“Wait, what’re we doing?”
A hand raised in the middle of my explanation means an interruption, and I feel the wheels on the train of thought disengage from the track. I’m easily distracted, and constantly waylaid by requests for the bathroom that have me floundering to refocus. I have yet to have a student ask what we’re doing in the middle of my explanations, so it must be the bathroom. They can wait. I’m almost done.
I conclude, telling them to “go forth” and complete an assignment that couldn’t be any easier if I did it for them, leading questions they’d have to try to get wrong or opinion-based inquiries they’ll still struggle to answer without prompting. Their movements are sluggish and reluctant, half resigned to getting it done as quickly as possible, the other half determined to use up the entire twenty minutes I’ve given them doing other things, and still not finish.
The hand is still raised. I gesture loosely, already penning a pass with the date and my signature for the unofficial hall monitors overly concerned with passless students walking ten steps from my door to do their business, yet assigning a single day’s punishment for breaking school property. I ask, even though I know I’m right:
“Bathroom?”
I’m wrong. A head shakes “no.” Instead:
“Is this for a grade?”
For the first time all class period I have their attention, those surreptitiously checking their phones and the ones in the corner who haven’t stopped whispering all period achieve a unicorn-rare hush. They’re waiting with baited breath for my answer, the one that will seal their fate as slaves to the bidding of my lesson plans or free them to goof off for the rest of the period with no repercussions. There’s no in between. They won’t do it just for the sake of doing it, not when they could just as easily not do it.
This is the generation of short attention spans, curated by an endless flood of social media that promises to whisk away boring lengthy videos and posts, sacrificing content for a quick fix and a burst of entertainment. I’m a victim of it too. But this is also the generation of rewards and quid-pro-quo, an expectation that all efforts in life will be returned in kind. Asking them to complete a task simply for the betterment of their education is laughable. I’m not inundating them with crossword puzzles and word searches, meaningless busy work I know won’t benefit them, will bore them to tears or disruptive behavior. The worksheet in front of them is beneficial to a larger project we’ve been discussing for over a week.
I’m not obligated to grade everything. Classwork is not optional. But classwork won’t get done unless it’s graded. I once completed fourteen hours of work only to receive a nod as my compensation, so I know the feeling of hard work going unrewarded. This assignment is barely fourteen minutes, if only they’d actually try. They think me supremely unfair, to ask so little of them for nothing in return. They’ll do nothing when allowed, and the bare minimum when required. In the immortal words of Ron Swanson, “[they]’d work all night if it meant nothing got done.”
So.
“Is this for a grade?”
“Yes.”
The lie slips as easily from my tongue as a smile slips onto my face beneath my mask. There’s a silent, collective groan that has me grinding my teeth at the audacity of their outrage. They’re groaning at a single sheet of paper with answers that will help them later in the week. They groan at essays. They groan at creative work. They groaned at an open note test because the study guides I gave them weren’t for a grade, so they didn’t do them.
You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.
The grumbling subsides, the chatty corner picks back up, and I circulate the room with help to give and no breath to waste telling them to put their phones away. A head lifts, followed by a hand, and I incline my head.
given the violence and literal arson happening at the protests sites today its only a matter of time before the counter narratives starts if it hasn’t already. antifa, left wing agitators, secret police.
the new right by and large is incapable of standing behind their actions so the scapegoats will be coming. just like what happened in DC and more recently in ottowa. this blog is no fan of police but its been clear from day one that the protesters have never been peaceful and will immediately disavow all negative actions, even the ones they’ve been calling for, in order to push a narrative of being persecuted.
even as those on the ground try to claim responsibility because they feel like their community has abandoned them much like all the DC assholes complaining that fox news is calling them antifa
So I’ve seen a lot of the protestors from today turn and blame “antifa” for the violent actions taken today. Curious, I looked into some of their groups to investigate further.
This image and screenshot are being used by protestors as well as heads of the protest and their “journalists” to prove that antifa started fires and incited violence today. Already pretty suspicious that your evidence is a shitty Facebook page, but then I went into the comments and it immediately got better.
Someone unironically posted this and thought it proved that antifa was responsible for today. Take from that what you will.
i want to say something quippy like it begins but most of me wants to bash my head into a wall
The awkward moment when a dude that I have a lot of history with sees my snapchat from the beach and proceeds to text me (not snap me but like, that’s clearly why he texted me becuse he had just seen my story and he has not texted me in over a year).
