They tell you, learn to love yourself and the rest will follow. They say it like it’s so easy. It’s not easy, not when you’re overweight, and don’t know how to do your hair and make up, or just have a generically unpretty face, it’s not easy. But I did it, or at least I started to. I hung out with myself, i said no to hanging out with people who were toxic to me. I put a crop top on my overweight body, and didn’t just feel pretty- I felt happy, and not because of the compliments, but because I felt confident. I wore bracelets and red lipstick and winged my eyeliner, it took months to perfect, but once I did, I was so happy. I took selfies, tons of them because I finally felt worthy of putting my winged eyed, red lipped face on instagram for the world to see. But the most important part- I was doing this for me. Not to impress some guy,not for likes on instagram, not to make some girl jealous, but because I liked what I saw in the mirror when I did, something that was a first for me in my life. I truly began to love myself, and that’s not to say I didn’t have awful days where all I wanted to do was lay in bed and cry tears of mascara and clutch at the fat the plagues my body, or give up trying to put on the pair of size 6 jeans that used to be big on me, because I did. Because self love is a process, and I was working on it.
Then he came along, out of nowhere, just wanting to talk to me, to get to know me again. Then to tell me I’m beautiful, to tell me I’m sexy, to tell me he thinks about me, dreams about me. And it seemed perfect, it seemed right. We had the same beliefs, the same dreams, the same goals. We were two halves of the same whole. I never felt pressured, or like I was reaching out of my league. And I thought, this is it, this is my reward for loving myself finally. I wasn’t ready for this before now because I was too concerned with myself to be concerned with anyone else. Our relationship grew, my confidence grew, my love for myself grew, it was going so well. Until it wasn’t.
He didn’t so much grow cold, as he simply went silent. Not necessarily ignoring, but also not responding. It drove me insane. What did I do? What did I say? It wasn’t me at all, it was someone else. Someone, closer, someone with her life together. Someone easier. That ended, back to me he came, acknowledging that I never left him, never changed my mind, was always there for him, was his confidant. It grew again, stronger this time, closer to that capital “R” Relationship word. So close. Then silence. Responding when it’s convenient, quiet when I need someone the most, all the while with someone else, someone closer, someone easier. The distance fought against us, the timing wasn’t right, it wasn’t meant to be. The fault this time was not in ourselves, but in our stars.
But, he’s not the reason my confidence has been slowly falling, that has to do with being home in this toxic house, in this toxic city, the place where I was the most broken in my life, the place with nothing left to give me except the vehicle to get out for good. I just hoped he’d be there beside me when I go, he was supposed to be the one to make being back in this toxic place a little brighter.
How do you get over something that never happened, over someone you never loved, or even dated. How do you say goodbye to the idea of something?