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Outdated Love Letter

In Experiences by BreeLeave a Comment

I’m not sure how to take on these new feelings.

The old me would have been so calm and collected with it—I could have breezed through conversation as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times over in my room, and no one would notice the hesitation in my voice. I’d come off calm and collected, as if nothing you did could impact the confidence I was exuding.

Now, I feel like my insides are being held together with scotch tape and that at any moment the tape will give and all these things I’ve been keeping inside will just come flowing out.

It’s mortifying to think that I can’t define these things, I can’t put to words why I feel like this. There is only a certain level of unknown that I can relate it to, like knowing that there has to be bigger and grander things in life, but you can’t touch them, you can’t feel them in their full capacity. After awhile you come to terms with the fact that you can’t put those things in a box, you can’t define the undefinable. I can only repeatedly think about them, overthink about them, under think about them, play over any (and every) scenario in my head that may cause them to feel less heavy, as if doing that would make me fear them less. When I reach the end of this exhausting struggle between my head and my heart, I always have to come to an agreement with myself that it won’t be solved. It can’t be.

I know on more than one occasion I’ve been blinded by what “could be”, because the start to any relationship is always thrilling, right? But how many times have people had to process and try to understand why you feel this incredible draw to someone. This unspoken thing that you don’t want to talk about, because talking about it makes it real, and making it real means admitting that all the stupid love stories you’ve read were right. I never wanted to consider myself a person that would feel like that. There is no such thing as one soulmate, there can’t be just one. There are many. People you might have met in a past life. In a different existence.

We all grow up with this list in our head about what we want in someone. Like brown hair and a calming voice. A sharp intellect and a sense of humor that actually makes you laugh like you mean it. This and that and all the in-between, lists upon lists of characteristics that are going to make you happy for the rest of your life. Then that day comes and you meet someone, and you realize something. People aren’t lists, and when you realize that no one will ever live up to the standard of perfect you’ve set in your head, that will be the moment you realize that no one really knows who or what they want in this life. They can’t possibly know that until it’s right in front of them. Until you’ve reached the edge of this cliff that you have to decide is safe enough to jump from. That’s how I feel right now, like I’m 8 years old staring down the throat of a rollercoaster I’m sure will chew me up and spit me out.

I never asked to feel like this, to feel the waves of every emotion I convinced myself my whole life that I never felt. Yet here I am, back to feeling like I’m falling in love for the first time, but this time is different in one very distinct way, this time I’m not falling in love with someone else. I’m falling in love with myself.

The truest of loves.


To the moon and back, humans ❤️

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