the caged bird sings.

written, designed, and edited by Bee Butler

Wayback Machine Pt. 4!

Bee ButlerComment

This one is painful, and pretty indicative that 21-year-old me was NOT over her ex and needed to spend a little more time in therapy.

Live through this, and you won’t look back.

There is nothing quite as gut-wrenching and vomit-inducing as finding out someone you loved, someone you spent over a year with, someone you gave your whole life to, someone who made you sick and miserable and happy and sad and tore you apart and used you and “loved” you... finding out that someone is sleeping with a coworker he doesn’t give a damn about because he just wants to get laid and nothing between you matters to him at all.

God, it hurts.



I thought for once in my life I’d do the whole “friends” thing with an ex, and dear GOD did I fail miserably. I’m in love with someone else now, someone who loves me back, unequivocally and irreversably and who will not leave when it gets bad or when I’m sad, and I’ll be damned if some horrible mistake from my past will mar this happiness.



”I’m not sorry I met you, I’m not sorry it’s over, I’m not sorry there’s nothing to say.
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save.”



If it wasn’t for that relationship, that heart-wrenching deathtrap that nearly drove me to take my own life, I would not have met the person I am with now, the person I love and who loves me back.

I can’t say that I would go back and undo it, because I’d lose what I have now, but I would never in a million years try again or wish that it had lasted. I will no longer pretend that I was right, that there was some magical, redeeming quality that made that person someone who could love me the right way. someon who cared about me for more than one awful, stupid reason, and I can’t sit here and prove to anyone, even myself, that I was ever what I hoped to be to him.

I wish so desperately that I could erase my sophomore and junior years of college from my memory. I want to wipe them away.



”it’s nothing but time and a face that you lose, I chose to feel it and you couldn’t choose, I’ll write you a postcard, I’ll send you the news from the house down the road; from real love.”



it is too late to take a second of those years, months, days, hours, minutes, even seconds back. I can never regain what I lost, what I gave up, what I let go of, the people I pushed aside and let take the backseat in order to make room for the parasitic relationship I allowed to go on for far too long. And my god, does it ache. it hurts like a deep cut, like a tear, like a burn that goes deep. Something leaving a scar, one that will never go away, a permanent reminder of what had been and what failed to continue to be. But, much like the tattoos I love some much, like the ink that is embedded in my wrists and feet, I will keep these lessons tucked away and relish only what I can remember fondly. Only that which I can use will I allow to stay in my head and my heart. And the only thing left from all of that time, all of those days, weeks, months, years, is this:



”there’s one thing I want to say, so I’ll be brave, you were what I wanted, I gave what I gave. I’m not sorry I met you, I’m not sorry it’s over. I’m not sorry there’s nothing to say; I’m not sorry there’s nothing to say.”



Live through this, and you won’t look back.

Until next time,