I think I had this weird misconception for the longest time without even realizing it.

For awhile I was in control of every relationship I had with a guy. I chose when it started, when it ended, how it ended, whether it would start again, when it would start again, etc.

I think I thought that every guy I was with would always be waiting for me to change my mind and turn back around. Well because, that's how it was for a long time.

But that thought is what made me be in control.

And I know that's ****** up, as I type it. But it's true.

For the girl with little self confidence, thinking that every guy she's been with would wait around for her. How arrogant is that.

How wrong is that

I realized it when my anxiety took over, having to take a step away from the guy I was with, thinking that he would understand and simply wait for me.

But he didn't

He was so quick to move on. And he had every right to.

Honestly, I'm happy it happened. It had to happen for me to realize how toxic I was being to myself and to other guys.

All of my poems consist of one topic, one guy, breaking me down.

I can't let what he did to me effect how I treat future guys.

I can't be the person they write poems about years later talking about how toxic I was for them.

I refuse to be that person.

I am not that person.

I will never be that person.

All aspects of my future make me anxious

Every time I think about it
I imagine this pit growing in my stomach

It starts off small
about the size of a seed
but the more that I think about it
the more I water it
and the bigger it grows

Where will I teach if I can't find a job?
bigger
Where will I live?
bigger
Who will I end up with?
bigger
Will I even find someone that wants to marry me?
BIGGER
Will I be able to have kids?
BIGGER
Will my family be around to watch me grow old?
BIG-

And then suddenly the pit has grown so large
it no longer has any room left to grow
It has taken over my stomach completely
causing me to stop in the middle of my tracks
frozen in fear
waiting desperately for it to get smaller

But it never does
Because you see
the more you water it
the bigger it grows
and there's no going backwards


Backwards
If I could go backwards
I would **** every last droplet of water out of the seed


I would give anything to make it shrink
There's not much I hate more than the unknown

I can't seem to get it right.
With every guy I meet.

Is there something wrong with them?
Or is there something wrong with me?

Is it because they're not you?
Or because I'm scared that they will become you?

Is it because I still haven't met the right guy?
Or because my expectations are too hard to obtain?

Is it because there's always a problem?
Or because I create that problem myself?


I'd like to believe it's because I just haven't met the right one yet.
The guy that it will come effortlessly with.
The guy that makes me fall into him with both feet, knowing exactly what I might get myself into, without a worry in the world.
The guy that doesn't make me second guess every move we make.
The guy who consumes my mind so deeply, there isn't any room for the demons in my head.

I know that guy is out there for me. Whether it is someone from my past or someone in my future.
I will find him.

Everything happens for a reason.

Say it again.

Repeat it until you're blue in the face.

Or until you believe it yourself.

Which ever comes first.

I left a permanent mark on my skin. Again.

I tell myself I'll never regret that. Because in that moment it's what I needed and wanted.

It's my constant reminder that when I look down at my body, I see what I've been through, and where I'm heading.

I treat my skin as my own road map.

If someone were to undress me and lay me down
I would have them trace my skin
slowly working their way around my body
only to stop at every heartbreak and life lesson

The faded ink would give away its time frame
creating a story that I get to claim as my own

At that point
not only would I be naked to the eye
but I would be completely vulnerable
as if I'm peeling back layers of my own skin
opening up to my insides
exposing my thoughts throughout the years.

It's something we all have, some without even realizing it.
It's something a person needs in order to survive.

I'm one to preach the words, "Everything happens for a reason" and "You end up where you're supposed to be" and I try my hardest to have faith in those words, but I too often find myself failing at that.

I think it's just something someone says to make themselves feel better. I can't let myself hide behind that, but that doesn't mean I won't try to.

I tell myself those two phrases daily; wishing, praying, for them to actually come into existence. But they never do.

If everything happens for a reason, tell me why my cousin passed away form a drug overdose. Tell me why he had to get addicted in the first place.

If everything happens for a reason, tell me why my grandmother passed away suddenly from a freak accident when her health was fine.

If everything happens for a reason, tell me why father's only two friends died from cancer.

If everything happens for a reason, tell me why people experience heart break, of all kinds.

If everything happens for a reason, tell me why there has been 18 school shootings so far this year.

If everything happens for a reason please just give me those reasons. And don't give me some ******* that people make up to only make themselves feel better. I won't fall for that. I refuse to.

I want so badly for someone to tell me otherwise, so I can make sense of it all.

And then maybe, I'll have a little bit of faith.

Some days I feel healed; convincing myself that everything that has happened was for a reason, a reason I'll one day understand.

Other days I feel broken; convincing myself that I'll never be healed, forever being alone.

But, most days I fall somewhere in the middle. How can someone feel broken and healed at the same time?

Maybe it's because my definition of "healed" isn't quite right. Or maybe it's because even though I'm on my way, I'm just not there yet, as much as I try to tell myself that I am.

I constantly joke to everyone about how I must be bad at relationships because I can never make them work.

But will they still find it funny if I told them that my anxiety eats me alive until I ruin the one good thing I have going for myself at the time?

My anxiety turns me into someone I don't want to be.
Someone who questions every aspect of the relationship.

Am I happy?
Could someone else make me happier?
Is this how I see my future?
Are we meant for each other?
Is he going to hurt me like my ex did?
Am I wasting my time?

These are all questions that completely consume me because of my anxiety.

They consume me until I can no longer take it and leave. I create problems that aren't there and convince myself that this is my only option.

It's exhausting constantly fighting with my anxiety, especially when it wins more often than not.

I am drained.

I am tired of pushing my feelings down so far my brain and my heart can no longer reach them.

I guess I'll just pray for more days where I feel healed, even if I know deep down it's not real.