DJCETA

I will be kinder to the person after you and I’m sorry for that.

When he goes for my hand I won’t pull away

He will see my smile more often than you did

I will wait up for him on late nights

I will let him hold me when I am feeling fragile

He will hear the 3 words that I could never say to you.

I’m sorry that you loved me when I didn’t love me.

God bless you and your ability to stay warm when I was always so cold.

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I’ve recently had a lot of guys writing in asking me why girls are always passing up on the “nice guy”. This is something that I’m absolutely guilty of. Obviously every situation is unique and I can’t speak for all girls, so I will just speak for myself when I say that in most of those cases I just wasn’t mentally ready for a “good” guy.

I had a less than ideal family experience growing up, and because of it, I grew into a wounded animal that snapped at anyone who was trying to help. I was always hurting and most of the time I didn’t even know why. In my mind I just needed to be with someone who cared about me, hoping that it would make all of the sadness and anger disappear. That was my biggest mistake. I ended up on an endless cycle of letting the wrong people in and getting hurt. Adding heartbreak to my already aching heart just put my brain in complete disarray. I couldn’t even recognize a good guy or healthy relationship if it was staring me directly in the face.

It took me years to understand that I am not unlovable.

I know now that unless I have a healthy, loving relationship with myself, I’m never going to have that with someone else.

Love yourself first.

Xo
Marysinn

2013

Prologues are unfathomable to me. How do you introduce a life, an experience, a moment in time with a straight face? They are cumbersome to me because they imply their counterpart: epilogue: the end. There is no end while we still have a pulse to anything that transpires and even that is debatable.. Writing itself, is bizarre. How do you write 300 pages of a life trying to encapsulate the hum drum tediousness of an existence where you barely feel like getting out of bed for? How does one discern the important parts that relieve some magical healing road in which enlightenment begins? I’d rather just say this: I was born, I lived, I’ll die, and I did it in less than 700 characters.