I am writing this on December 13, 2018. I am writing to myself, but also to you, if you’re listening. This year has, to put it in simple words, been one of the hardest. I experienced heartbreak, treachery, and lost everything I am. I had to put the pieces back together myself while learning to love myself again. And nothing has ever been harder.
In January, I had to learn the power of heartbreak all over again. My naive thoughts had me believing every lie and every touch was said or done out of love. I was so wrong. Every lie that flew from your mouth was said because you’re an egotistic ass — or maybe it was just because you hate me. I will never know exactly. You had me asking myself where I went wrong, why wasn’t it me in end, and why I even cared. Before you, I didn’t care. I was content by myself. Maybe it was the lies that sucked me in, but your touch kept me. I finally found you, I thought. I had this picture in my head of what true love was suppose to look like, and boy, was I in for a rude awakening when I realized that wasn’t you. Maybe I had that one coming, but the joke is on you now.
In February, I realized that people aren’t always what that claim to be. I was out on my own for the first time, and things seemed to be going right. I held my tongue for the fear of saying something that would make you run — but you ran anyway. So what was the point? I didn’t have much to say to you then, and nothing has changed now. I was fooled by you when I stood up for you. I feel like such an idiot now for not seeing the signs. You put on your best poker face, and well, you won. I hope the price was worth the pain of losing a friend. You’ll never see me again.
In April, I realized I wasn’t who I once was. I wanted to change and go back to my old self. The person who was carefree, selfless, and loved everyone without a reason. I have always love to love, but I became someone who loved to hate even more. I was in denial at first. How did I end up like this? Was it the pain of the people who left that made me so cold? I wish that was the answer, but no, it wasn’t anybody else’s fault except my own. In the end, I failed myself.
In August, I felt stuck. It didn’t feel like I was ever going to get out of the rut I was in. I had no idea what I was feeling or why. I wanted to be free and do the things I’ve always wanted to, but something was holding me back. Truth is, nothing was stopping me except myself.
In September, I didn’t feel like I had a home — a place to come to when it all gets too much. A place I wish I could retreat to when I didn’t know what step was next. A place that feels like a warm blanket fresh out of the drier on a cold night. I yearned so badly for that feeling. Everything I had ever accomplished was nothing without someone padding me on the back for a job well done. Stupid concept, I know. But all I wanted was that feeling. The feeling of being home.
I could go on and on about all the months, and how I changed in every passing day but I won’t, because you don’t care and neither do I. I grew so tired of living in the past, thinking about how things could have been different. Reality check, of course they could have been different, but they are not going to change now. I have learned to accept everything from my past. The good and the bad because they made me who I am. And I am so thankful for that.
For the person I’m becoming, I wish you the best. I hope you find love. I hope you travel more. I hope you swear less and bake out your frustrations. I hope you spend more time with your friends. I hope you continue to work on yourself because there is always something you can improve. I hope you find your home, because, as I have learned this year, home is not a place — it is the people you surround yourself with. Create a castle — your castle. Put all the kings and queens of your life in it. Create your own damn court and your own damn rules. Because once you create that, you have not only found yourself a home but you have also made it indestructible.