To future me, if he ever comes back:
Take this advice from me (you), who is younger but much wiser from one month of relationship sobriety: he made you feel like you were and would never be enough. You felt small with him, like you had to trim and tuck away all the parts of yourself that didn’t match him. You saw your relationship as a yin-yang balance; he saw it as an expert one-man show with an extremely privileged tag-along (you were the tag-along). You remember feeling so comfortable with him, but what about all the times you felt so anxious you couldn’t eat, sleep, or even breathe? That’s not you. You are a naturally happy person. Yes, small things may stress you out more than the average person (or maybe not), but you do not have to feel that way. You deserve a person who will do everything in their power to make sure you never feel that way, someone who will honor your insecurities and tackle them with you, instead of making you feel like a burden and leaving you alone to “fix yourself.”
No. You deserve the sun, the moon, AND the stars. And you get to be picky and have high expectations because you are a total catch, the whole package, the kitten caboodle. So go on, go be picky. Take your time finding someone who meets ALL your expectations, and some that you didn’t even know you had. Shoot for the moon and don’t give up until you get there - no more landing among the “stars” and calling it good enough. Do not ask yourself if you could make it work with this guy or any guy. Ask yourself: “Is this my best, happiest, truest self? Does this person bring that out in me?” If the answer is no - BOY BYE!
So what if he’s standing right there, heart in his hands, promising everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ve been here before. You’ve seen this pattern, and it’s up to you to break it. This time, you are the one who gets to be in control because you know yourself and listen to yourself so much better now. This guy right here was the reason you stopped! You can be nice or just tell him to FUCK OFF.
You deserve so much more. Stop settling for anything less.
Love,
You
Anchor
Mid-80s are nothing to sneeze at,
particularly when the teacher is
a grim never-was with a red pen
where his prick ought to be,
and particularly when
she spends evenings watching cousins
(2 and 6 and 7) so her aunt
can pick up a double shift or shot
and she types that essay at midnight
between the toddler’s crying jags.
And she might have done it
despite everything,
might have found more,
more than a rusting doublewide,
more than CPS calls,
more than eleventh grade,
more than part time at Dollar General
and cigarette breaks behind dumpsters
and YouTube on cracked screens and
bounced checks and Slim Jim dinners and
Milwaukee’s Best vacations and
screaming and shouting and crying and
fear and hunger and sadness and
bruises and wanting and wanting
and despite
dropout boyfriend who said no condom
it’s OK he’d pull out
she might yet have found more
only she told him she loved him.