I write a lot about relationships, and problems in my life, but have recently been thinking about changing the direction for what I want to write about. Whats this change of direction? A change of perspective on love.

Relationships of any kind are hard, even worse to maintain; meaning it is important for us to think about which relationships should be prioritise and which ones may need to be let go of for our own goods. As I say this, well, I mean that some things are simply not worth fighting for; You need to let go of your delusionship. 9 times out of ten, it’s not going to end up working out and to be fairly honest, in order for you to grow as an individual you need to let go of it. Simply put, you need to stop wasting your time, and move on.

Song of this article: baby steps by Olivia dean

Throughout my few years on this planet, I’ve experienced my fair share of problems regarding, a “lack of self-respect to let go of someone”. I has led to my consumption of a wide variety of media (being movies, books, albums) that have helped me move past my issues and come to the realisation that my situationships have been holding me back from my dreams, holding me back from my aspirations and the goals I have for my future.

The reality of it was: my delusion to the idea it could work out into a stable relationship was what was holding me back, it was pinning me into the same spot for life and keeping me in an endless cycle of disappointment, of hurt feelings and toxic relationships.

How did I get past the delusion?

Getting over someone during the romanticising stage is difficult (obviously) and it’s what leads to a majority of our insane wants for a person we barley know. I like to call this the honeymoon crush stage. A time in our lives where we all go a little insane - constantly checking their social media to see if they’ve updated anything, checking to see if they finally responded to our message, stalking their reposts on Tiktok, overthinking everyyyyy single interaction and every minute we’re left on delivered.

We do this as a response to a lack of information of the person we may be infatuated with. We say we miss them because of the image we created of them in our minds; we remember them through day dreams and made-up scenarios we hoped one day would turn into memories. The idea of them we create in our minds turns us to obsessing of every interaction, every moment we share with them - we become more excited about their idea and inevitably get disappointing with whom they turn out to be.

It’s the stage where we all become the main character of, “He’s just not that into you". Otherwise known as “Gigi”, the main character who represents how it feels to navigate the perils of dating now.

Which brings me to the piece of media I will be discussing today:

He’s Just not that into you

He’s just not that into you, probably, if not, the most famous piece of female relationship advice ever to be released to the public.

It has a well-rounded cast, and is centered on the focus of all your typical female relationships. In my eyes, I place these relationships into 5 categories: the delusional one, Gigi (otherwise seen as needy, or too excessive one by men); the committed one, Beth (Jennifer Anistons’ character who’s dedicated to one man, but wants to get married); the controlling one, Janine (whom, was not actually super controlling, her man was an ass-hole who obviously did not respect the boundaries she put on the table since the start of their marriage. So, I find her very respectable); Scarlett Johanssons immature character who believes the love of her life is a married man, Anna, and finally, Drew Barrymores’ character on a mission to find the perfect man, Mary.

In a way, it does objectify women as the story categorises its subjects as male driven while diving into the world of dating. Aside from that though, the movie itself provides a lot of insight into how women sometimes ignore issues in a mans behaviour because of their hope the situation could develop into a possible relationship. Or, it provides an example of a woman recognising her issues and delusion in the dating world, then deciding to move past them, in hopes to grow into a better person. Or, simply, a woman letting go of someone because she knows she deserves better.

The main point with this movie is: it is able to highlight multiple issues and struggles in relationships that we may tend to ignore in our own lives.

My personal two favourite plots of the movie are Gigi, and Beths stories - fairly known as Goodwins and Anistons roles in the film.

Gigi is the atypical, delusional, ditz. She is constantly on dates, and is blind to the fact she gets abnormally attached to men after the first date. To put it into better terms, as much as she would love to say she has standards, it’s extremely apparent she has little to no respect for herself. (Which is proven with her endless voicemails to guys after dates, constant reruns of dinners and over-analysing of guys actions, lets just say, she is a tad bit over-desperate and it showed in her reactions towards an uninterested man)

The point of her story highlights the idea of people either being the rule or the exception in the world of dating. In the film, Gigi meets soon to be wise-adviser friend, Alex, who guides her through his lessons of dating; calling her “the rule” and not the exception. It sounds like a negative thing, but it’s nothing against the girl, more so the idea that if a guy is a jerk, and he treats you like a jerk, well, he’s just that - a jerk.

“Okay. Okay. But what if I’m the exception?”

“No you’re not. You’re not at all. In fact, you’re the rule. And the rule is - If a guy doesn’t call you, he doesn’t want to call you.”

He doesn't call you after your dinner, he doesn’t call you back, he let’s you walk home alone.

If he does not act like he cares about you, he leaves you on delivered for days, or never initiates conversation, basically if he does not put in the effort to show he cares.

Then….

They don’t really care about you. And that’s the rule.

“If a guy treats you like he doesn’t give a shit, then he genuinely doesn’t give a shit. No exceptions.”

“The exception” was the derivative idea that if, “if a guy want’s to see you, believe me, he WILL see you.”

It means, yeah, everyone makes mistakes, but there will come those who do care about you (truly) and will be willing to overcome their mistakes to show us their best versions. They will put in an unprecedented amount of effort into showing they care and never complain for doing it. Never asking for a return because they know that for you, it is worth putting in the effort for a relationship.

In society - outsiders point of view - these “exceptions” become those who we look at in awe, and see as the lucky, or the chosen few, who get to live these story book lives because of their upbringing or the money that they have. They are exceptions because we see them as that, and want what they have. We say they are the exceptions because they have found the one, or because they get to travel without financial worry, which makes us jealous enough to believe they are living superior to our own lives.

Except they’re really not anything special, they’re not really exceptions to society.

This idea - this rule - it places us into two categories. And, makes us lose the drive to create our own story book ending. One without someone else telling us that we aren’t the right ones for someone.

I mean, in concept the lesson does make sense, but it puts us in this box that tells us, “if a man does all of these things for us, does it make me the rule?”. This is where the theory hits its first boundary - what happens if a man chooses us as their exceptions…but still does not want to put a ring on it? Is she still the exception?

Beth - the execution of this theory.

Just putting it out there - yes, she is still the exception! But not because she was anyone special or rich, or had found the perfect man. She was the exception because she knew her morals and knew she deserved better than a man who didn’t want to marry her.

Beth was the exception. Except, she found a man that she loved (Neil) and stayed with for 7 years, in hopes that he would change his mind and marry her. Only he didn’t change his mind, and she inevitably left him - so, what makes her an exception?

She’s an exception because of what happens afterwards.

Beth was a strong, self respecting women. She recognised Neil’s lack of change - unlike Gigi, whom we already came to the conclusion did not have this personality trait - and decided to do what was best for her: Find someone who would marry her.

The movie then goes to show her life without Neil, her role in her sisters wedding, and the misogyny of her sisters husbands (also rules), who treat her sisters as if they were below them. This, well, symbolises the theory of Rule’s and Exceptions in dating throughout Beth’s life. Where men will act like jackasses and settle with those who will take the awful treatment, because the men gave up on looking for their exceptions - in response to this, over time they get lazy, and stop treating their wives properly, because they never had to work hard to maintain their relationship.

Exceptions will make their partners work for, and change, for their relationship to last.

Exceptions in relationships know their worth and see it as something their partners earn, not obligated to gift them their love just because they care for them dearly.

While she takes care of her hospitalised father and tries to maintain his home, Beths frustration to the situation and her lousy brother-in-laws combs into a moment where she regrets leaving Neil; then again, she's tired, stressed, and her dad just had a heart attack… could anyone really blame her for reacting that way?

Anyways, the next scene exaggerates the sound of dishes being washed in her dad's kitchen, and Beth follows the sound to find that Neil’s the one washing them.

Beth’s and Neil’s relationship wasn't perfect. They dated for 7 years, and he never asked her to marry him even knowing she had always dreamed of it. Which led to her leaving him.

Yeah, i guess it did take losing her for to realise his issue, but Neil was able to prove that he could change for her because she was his exception - the one he couldn't live without. She was worth changing his morals and getting married too, he changed because he wanted to, no force, no begging, he changed on his terms (after losing her).

He didn’t beg, he wasn't immature about the whole thing, he just showed up, made it easy for her. He came when she needed him, without even needing her to ask for his help, he simply just knew.

He made a mistake, but from his mistake he finally realised through his thick head that making his girlfriend happy was the only thing her cared about - so, he proposed, and they eventually got married.

She was the exception.

Some of you may be reading this, and are thinking, “she’s wrong and she's wayyyy over romanticising their relationship.”

But, I’m not.

What I'm simply trying to say is, if a man wanted to he would.

You should not have to put in every ounce of effort into a relationship, and you shouldn't have to constantly be overthinking it.

It should be fun, and simple. It should be the intertwining of two souls and a connection that’s indescribable to others.

Beth knew her worth, even if it took awhile, she did what was best for her and left to look for someone who would see her worth for what it was. Neil, was her exception. He made a mistake, but took the initiative and fixed it. Proposed, was there when she needed him most. They by no means we're perfect, but to each other they were worth it.

Worth changing, worth fixing, worth lasting.

Being in-love Is a two way street, one where, in today's age has become extremely delayed because of the traffic that is unlimited access to everyone on social media. Women become attached to someone, meanwhile the man is entertaining three other girls who also end up getting attached to them.

To let a mans opinion of you dictate the value of you being, is to destroy the internal respect you have for yourself. It is to turn yourself into a rule - someone for them to use as a backup, someone for them to never call back, someone for them to treat wonderfully only to ghost once their role has been fulfilled to their needs.

Don't be the rule, make yourself an exception.

Live knowing you’re worth more than someone not calling you after a date and you’re definitely worth more than someone who treats you like a second choice. Worth more than being treated terribly, worth more than one mans simple opinion.

Everyone is an exception to their own story, you just need to have that confidence, and respect in yourself to know and understand that you’re worth someones who puts in effort.

Stay tuned for part two of this five part series where I discuss important lessons from media that will help you get over toxic-relationships that aren't worth wasting our time over!

All my love,

The scattered pages of Isabella Marie

Now, nothing but a closed chapter.

Sometimes, the world will subtly send you little reminders they did once exist; that you and them once existed. For me, and the boy I consider to be my first heartbreak - we’ll call him “Z” - this reminder was in music.

Z and I’s relationship was special. Even with the fact we never even dated, it still was a relationship made of curiosity and a complicated mix of emotions. He made the world stop moving when we were together; even if for only a moment, it really felt like it was us against all odds. Well, us and the music.

After we stopped talking I had no choice but to block him. For my own mental sanity, I had to completely execute him from my life and move on. The world….clearly had other plans; no matter how much I tried, I could not completely get rid of him. He was in the journal entries I wrote for 9 months, he was in my prom photos, he was the muse to one of, if not, my favourite painting. He was entwined into my heart, my memory, my soul - even worse, was the fact he was in the music I listened to.

One thing we both were extremely into was music. He loved it, and during that first conversation we had he specifically told me music was the key to his soul and one's music taste was an important factor to his opinion of you.

I love all genre’s of music. My favourite artists are Blood Orange, Lana Del Rey, Fleetwood Mac and….probably, Rihanna. I had always dipped my toes into an unhealthy amount of genres before I knew him, which is probably why he stuck around for so long. After I met him, learned about him - his tastes, his loves, his recommendations, I grew to love music even more, and now, he’ll forever be ingrained into that love.

The first 2 songs he recommended to me were, “We fell in love in October”, by Girl in Red and,“Wheat Kings”, by the Tragically Hip. I was starstruck the moment he sent the words girl in red, utterly starstruck. It had been years since i had heard her music, and him recommending it to me uncovered a core memory I had completely forgotten.

Immediately I was sent back to my 8th grade classroom with a piece of music i once held close to my soul.

My heart was palpitating, and feelings were developing a million times per hour. It felt as if I had been struck by cupids arrow in the heart over a hundred times, and all I wanted was to learn more about this boy. His favourite colour, his hobbies, his favourite movies and tv shows; I was completely infatuated with each new fragment, each new piece that he would let me know about him, and I wanted to know more.

Even worse, I had recently discovered, “False God” by Taylor Swift. Obviously with a new crush you need a new song to go with it. He was lucky enough for this song to be chosen for him.

Here I was listening to “False God” on repeat. Over and over and over. It is such an amazing and romantic song, of course I just had to dedicate it to a person who is now a distant memory.

Every time I listen to it, i get flashbacks of the night I came back from our first hang out - us in my Mom’s car singing to 1990’s Alternative rock (Redhot Chili Peppers specifically), while talking about the little things, like how much our grand-dad’s love sports, what we wanted to do after high school, where we wanted to travel to. It ruined “Reality in Motion” by Tame Impala for me with his excessive need to insist that his music taste was better than mine. Our exchange of Spotify stats during prom; of course two music nerds had to compare our most listened to songs of all time - his, a song by the tragically hip and a mixture of white noises that he had claimed to never have listened too, and mine, Kill bill, and Heather having listened to them over a landslide of repeats during my grade 8 emo era.

Alike Belly in her Bachelorette party scene at the bar, when the background music began playing, “we cant be friends” by Ariana Grande, whenever False God plays, I am triggered immediately with an edited montage of those moments we shared. The intimacy that bled through in conversations, and the desire I held on to during the entire duration of our time together. I truly would have done anything for a chance to be with him.

Z’s memory lives in Ed Sheeran’s, “Perfect”, leading to the moments we slow danced at prom. Him looking at me with his crystal blue eye’s - eye’s I had only dreamed of gazing into and now would never again. His hands on my waist and his whispers about how amazing I looked or whatever compliments he shared to make me feel special. My arms around his shoulders, my eyes glued to face. I’m reminded of this stupid smile he had. A smile that melted my heart every time I saw it, a smile that still does - just in a different way - every time I look back to the prom photos we took that evening.

He’s in Fleetwood Mac’s album, “rumour’s” from the night I had found their CD during a thrifting hunt. He was the first person I showed my find to because he was able to appreciate the album and understand the value of finding it in our local value village.

He was in “Mr. Brightside” within the memory of us at a high-school party. All we did we talk, yet it was one of the most intimate conversations I had ever had with a man. Just standing to the side of the party, him looking up at me from a couch with such curiosity and a glow you’d never imagine a man to ever look at you with. Our trying to hear one another over the loud waves of sound flowing around us, talking into one another ears, the ache of my cheeks being overworked from smiling so much, a red flushed glow clearly painted onto my face - I was slowly falling deeper into the depths falling for him. Feelings I only ever developed for one person every once in awhile, and could do anything but control.

The distant glances of each other from across the room when we’d separate.

The distant glances of each other from across each classroom we shared.

His memory lives in every song by Tame Impala - and I have loved Kevin Parker since Mexican Radio was popular - because of the pure joy his face held each time he spoke of them.

I remember his love for silly, not very popular sports within “Scar Tissue”, from the day I picked him up from his house and we went on our only unofficial date. A day we said we would have more of, but never did.

All of these memories are coded into the sound of music, and so lives on my love for him within them.

He and I weren’t much. But we were enough, and I would have been okay with that. Because he was enough for me. All I wanted, desired, dreamed of. It embarrassing to say…but it’s the truth.

I recently had to accept this fact; either I never listen to music again or I learn to live with this sharp pain of nostalgia - which was really the only choice.

I don’t regret him, but I do regret dedicating him to “False god”. I was really crazy to think that we could work or even last until next Halloween. Let’s just say, I was really being led by blind faith and music throughout everything.

Still, within that there remains this deep intimacy of interwoven connections - no one may know about them, he may have even forgotten for all i know, but to me we’re connected through these songs. And, at least i’ll always have that to hold onto. Time will continue to pass while I continue to grow and learn to live without him. I will eventually forget the feeling of his hands on my waist, and lose recognition to the sound of his voice. In 10 years, he will simply be a chapter of my journal for my daughter to discover whenever she gains a curiosity into my past life. And, when she does one day ask, “Who was this guy?”, I will only be able to tell her that he was the first love I never had. A boy whose impact will always be within the art I’ve created, the things that I have written and the music I had always been connected to.

We may not have each other anymore…

But you know, there is one thing that we’ll always have: We’ll always have the music.

I used to think the only way for me to categorise my life into what I thought was oblivious enjoyment, would be to experience an uncountable number of random events that would make my life seem exciting whenever I thought back to the moment. Then one day I had a brief period of enlightenment; I was doing my usual journal catch up, when I had no words to put into writing. No synonyms to choose between, no alternate adjectives, no magical ways to describe what had happened to me. The words being written weren’t the words I normally would use to imagine the feeling of a moment. They felt empty, and I kept having to look back at my photos to remember certain details; my writing didn’t feel authentic. Then, it occurred to me …no matter what event had actually occurred, if I was unable to properly deliver the story in the “magical” way I remembered, then what convinced me that anyone could care to read or see what I have to say.

At this point in time, I centred my joy in big experiences - rather than in perspective. Honestly, it made me miserable. I was constantly looking for the “aesthetic” photo to post on Instagram. Or trying to record every event to make it seem like my life was exciting to those on my social media. I did this instead of being physically or mentally present the things I did. Because of this, I was missing both the moments beauty and the chances to remember them the way they should be remembered.

I was losing the magic of personal memories through my constant want to capture moments on a camera, only to later do nothing with the photos at the end of day. For hours, I would scroll through media watching peoples lives in photos, what they would post on Tiktok, Instagram, Pinterest. I would imagine myself going on these trips and getting hundreds of photos to post; I imagined capturing the photo, like the ones you see as inspiration on your Pinterest feed, the ones everyone raves about being jealous of. This mindset, set me aback, and for a long-time I lost myself. I became completely engulfed by the lives of other people and social media to the point where I no longer felt the pure joy of being in the moment. Being present in the now.

That day I was writing showed me this issue was present, but it did not solve it.

I thought my life wasn’t romantic enough, and because of that, I started struggling with being present in my surroundings.

That is, until one day, my phone died.

It was a simple, typical kind of morning. I did Wordle, I checked my social media, texted people, and sent others funny videos I scrolled passed online. Basically, I was trapped by the tiny blue-light screen in front of me without a care in the world.

Then, while I was out shopping, my phone died. Which was weird because I would never let my phone die. I literally, would have sprinted to the closest charger possible in order to avoid the inevitable beep -or buzz- of death. And somehow, some way, I had let my phone die that day, without even realising it happened. My heart was pounding a bit hard when I realised, but I still had things to grab from the grocery store so I couldn’t even leave to go to my car and charge it. I considered it, I really did. But then I came to the conclusion that by doing said action, not only would I be causing myself the trouble of charging my phone in the car, but I also would not have any of the groceries I needed.

So I kept going, and for the first time, in a long time, I people watched. I was a viewer of so many other peoples worlds; there was a dad with his daughter deciding between different flavours of ice cream, elders gossiping while walking through the pasta sauce isles, couples intensely conversing over their grocery lists; so many different lives happening around me and I never would have noticed if I was still texting while grabbing the items on my shopping list. It felt like one of those scenes in a movie where the main character has a moment of enlightenment, a moment of realisation, where she comes to terms with the fact she is alive and breathing. No, matter what had happened before it, none of it mattered because she was real. A real, breathing, living person; one who overcame so much in her life, and now, at that moment in time, was present. I was present. And the feeling, gosh, this erotic feeling in my chest, was so fresh. I felt like I was floating, or experiencing an out of body illusion. I wanted the moment to last forever. Not only because I could describe everything that was happening, but I was also en-captured by the moment through a state of sheer complexity.

From then on, I started letting my phone die more often.

I started seeing the beauty in the small things. I didn’t need big exciting moments to make myself happy anymore. I just needed my own company and an attitude focusing on the now - with the addition of some good background music. I no longer would stay up late scrolling, instead I would go to bed early to wake up early and enjoy having the morning to myself. Enjoy the sound of the birds singing and the sound of morning golfers swing. I started doing yoga by myself, no music, no background noise, just me and my thoughts. I no longer was scared to let my thoughts flow freely, no longer afraid of being overwhelmed by the moments I regretted. By disconnecting from media and romanticising the present, the now, I was allowing myself the freedom of not knowing. Not caring about what others were doing, or comparing their lives to my own.

By allowing my phone to continuously die I gave myself a reason to not await for people to text back - instead I would be the one to reply whenever I could.

I began to take control of my life again. Where there was once fear of being alone, there was now peace in time by myself. Where there was once worry of being the second choice, there was now the ability of choosing someone first. Where there was once a resting bitch face, was now a girl who was trying to avoid others being afraid of her, and a new found girl who enjoyed talking to others.

Where there was once regret of my own actions, there was now contempt in the fact any of it ever even happened. And a memory where I could now describe the magical feelings of any euphoric moment.

There was an individual, a being, not a robot, not a number in your following, not a girl on a screen. But a person.

And being a person is what it means to live. Cause at the end of the day, our online presence really doesn’t mean anything. But the way we live outside of it just might.

I find it funny how one day we could be texting someone the smallest, most exciting details of our day to never texting them ever again. How one day, we can be restlessly waiting for their response. Checking our phones every other minute to see if they texted back, only to be found with the disappointing word, “Delivered” under what you had sent them. How your heart would implode or your hands would be shaking each time you responded to their messages. The overthinking, the wanting, the yearning.

It’s weird, because after all those intimate conversations and messages, we still ended up as nothing. Nothing more than a simple memory; a glimpse in time where I was happy, or even a frozen moment where I really thought he could have been the one.

On paper, we could have been perfect. In a way we would have been perfect. We had the same weird quirks, the same interests and the same hopes for life. We both wanted kids, we both loved movies and music and literature and nature.

We even loved the same sport; something we both once dedicated our hearts too.

All these things in common, yet you didn’t want a relationship. Or atleast not one with me.

I didn’t know it at the time, but our last conversation was a nice one.

You had texted me, wondering about whether I was participating in an event at our school or not; which led to a weeks long worth or messages back and forth. We exchanged words about our futures, aspirations, dreams, hopes; all little messages that I didn’t realise would be our lasts. I enjoyed it, I held on to it, and I hope you’ll remember it.

To think we never even kissed, let alone held hands. Because everytime we spoke it felt like for a moment the world had stopped spinning. As if it was just us, you and I and a thousand tiny little fire-flies flying around us - creating our own magical little world of intimacy, only we could configure.

Our last conversation was subtle, nothing extravagant, just an small exchange between two eighteen-year-olds, who are about to go into the scary chapter of adulthood. Intimate and ours. Only us was all it ever was. And ever will be…

The main difference between this conversation and our others was that this one was initiated by you, your were curious about me, you wanted me. Still though, that wasn’t enough.

I came to the realisation that I would never be what you wanted. My heart would finally learn that after 8 months of this situationship of nothingness, that, that’s all we’d ever be. Nothing but little shards of glass scattered across my grade 12 memories.

To think that you know so much about someone, yet nothing at all, was hard to keep a grasp of. I knew about your days, your dreams, you hopes, but I never learned about your favourite colours, or your favourite movie or favourite show.

For a long while there I thought you could have been my everything. Only that even after giving you so much time to figure yourself out - you didn’t end up as anything.

The one thing you did give me through our last conversation was a moment to self-reflect. An instance to look back at our relationship and see that all we were was a jumble of stolen glances, and unasked questions. Continued looks of longing, and hours of social media stalking. Unsaid opinions, and never to be spoken words of love, words of want, words that we’d regret.

To have been nothing, yet to also become my everything was the personal side of what we were. I would have let you in, I would have committed to you, I would have given you my all; my love, my stories, my thoughts, my heart.

In our last conversation you allowed me the privileged of letting go. Letting go of what we were, letting go of us.

I was able to realise that my heart no longer fluttered when I saw your notification on my phone. No longer did I daydream about our future or what relationship would have been like. You let me find love in myself again, you helped me love myself again. For this I am grateful, to you I am grateful. Because even though we were nothing, you did give me something to look forward to, something to dream about and advocate for. Someone to look for in the halls of our school and steal glance at from across our classrooms and gym floors.

You made grade 12 a little easier, and you’ll never know by how much.

I know of how you betrayed me in January, I know how you thought that maybe we could have been something. And if you ever told me any of it I would have accepted any truth that you presented to me. But you never did.

Instead, you gave me this conversation and finally allowed me to come to terms with what we were.

Goodbye boy from grade 12.

Goodbye to our longing stares and late night talks - goodbye, and thank you for allowing my heart to mend just a bit back to how it was at the start. I could have loved you; no - I know I would have loved you. I would have forgiven you for everything if you had just told me, if you had asked me, if you had told me you wanted me. So, thank you for breaking my heart in a different way, a way where we could end on good terms and I could wholeheartedly let you go. Thank you for allowing me to realise i would never be enough, even though I thought for a long time that I could have been. Thank you for allowing me to understand that even though my worth to you was so grand, you still would never be able to love me the way I wanted to be loved.

As they say, “You truly cannot love someone into loving you. Even if it was with all of your heart.”

It was a hard lesson to come to terms with, but it in the end it really did help to heal my heart.

So, here’s to the boy who I would have given my everything. My whole heart, its entirety. My entirety. Thank you, and goodbye to the this end of this nothingness chapter.

Because I feel like I constantly ask myself that question. The wanting to know of how people talk about me; do they think i’m funny? I want to know how and what they think of me… (yeah, I may have a small issue with my public image).

From this I know that I would probably do anything to know the answers to my curiosity. But ff i’m being honest, I don’t think much would change if I did disappear. My impact on the world has been minuscule and I know that there is not one thing I have done to change anything. So, who am I to believe that I could have changed anyone’s life?

I want to disappear. I want to run away into a field and never come back, like one of those characters in movies whom you can’t help but love. Those characters who are so free, you just know for a fact that they do not care about what other’s think of them. I want to disappear into an oblivion or into one of the worlds I read about in books, I want to chase dragons and curate music, I want to do something more, yet at the same time… all I want to do is sit in a dark room and think. To not exist, but still, I cling to this urge of wanting to do more. I wish I knew why I feel like this, because for as long as I could remember all I have felt, was far behind.

I’m 18, and I already feel myself trying to keep up. My grades are dropping, and my mind is just so full of thoughts and uncontrollable mixtures of emotions. I hate failing, the feeling of it, the disapproving stares - all of it, none of it helps me get better. It feels like the world has set up an idea that I’m supposed to know what I am going to do for the rest of my life by 18; I don’t even know what I like about myself and still our society expects me to be able to adapt to their systems and thrive in it. Accept their endless cycle and slave away to it. Gain huge student loans, work multiple jobs to pay off those loans, hope to get a stable job and potentially retire at 65.

Something inside me, every once in awhile, will whisper to me that this isn’t living. These repetitive days, and our constant comparisons to wanting to be someone else. I feel like I don’t know how to live, and every minute I can feel that weight marching deeper into my soul. As if, I’m not living unless I can get these perfectly aesthetic photos to post on Instagram. Which gives this adrenaline, this sense of approval that devours me and burns for more; it makes me jealous enough to waste my time doom scrolling, looking at endless photos and faces of people i’ll never meet. I do this a way to feel better.

Only that it dosen’t, instead I just feel disappointed in myself for wasting all of that time doing nothing.

I feel like a robot, and I feel the loss of creativity that I once had.

I mean, I used to dream of being an artist and make peoples days, I wanted to paint them and write for them; yet, in our society, art has be pushed away so much so, that it is frowned upon as a career choice. It isn’t worth enough to live off of, and especially isn’t relevant to the way our society operates. There is no need for the one thing that I am truly passionate about. No need for the coexistence of art and science.

I don’t think I was made for this life, I don’t like this life. I hate the decisions that I have made and I regret not doing more. I’m 18, and still all I want to do is disappear, but not because i’m sad -even though i am - but, because I can’t comprehend the fact that if I were to disappear, know one would care. They would be too busy to remember the moments we shared, or the way I made them feel. I bet most don’t even remember, which is why I wish to disappear.

This feeling of longing and curiosity in the fact that the more I learn about him, the more I want him in my life forever.

I recently discovered a band named, “The Blue Nile”, by chance while I was one day mindlessly scrolling through Tiktok.

The song playing in the video was their most famous, named: “Downtown Lights.” It ranges from about 6 minutes and 30 seconds, with just a little over 12 million streams. The song itself is about urban loneliness, longing, and searching for connection amidst a cold, city night. And the first time I actually listened to it - meaning to listen to the words- I was laying in my bed getting ready to fully commit to my book. Except, I never even managed to open my book up. In fact, all I was doing was listening to words playing around me and almost instantly i felt this, explosion.

Layers of emotions began taking over my body. Verse, by verse, as I listened deeper and deeper into the words being sung to me, the more I longed for this boy - who I know doesn’t want me.

He’s not just some figment of my imagination, I was wish he was, but no, it’s a boy, a specific boy… one I- just can’t get out of my head.

I know he’s bad for me, and I keep telling myself that I am over him, but deep down I know… know for a fact that I’m not.

And this song, this random song that I found quoting, “How do you feel it? How do I know you feel it?”, was not helping. All it did was stir my emotion worse than they already were.

Still, I couldn’t deny myself the fact that I enjoyed the bands music, so I followed them on Spotify in case I ever wanted to rethink my life decisions.

Obviously I did, because if I never had listened to them again I wouldn’t be writing this.

The next time that I listened to the Blue Nile was one random day while I was at the gym. Actually, scratch that because it was most definitely not just some random day. That was a really baddd dayyy, my heart was absolutely aching and my brain was running a million thoughts per hour. At that moment, all I wanted was some music that I could mush my emotions into. I wanted to be able to reminisce, and have a workout so good that I would feel great for the rest of the day. And, for some unknown reason, I believed that, that genre was in the song, “Downtown Lights.”

Again came that warmth in my heart, in my mind and soul. That tender lump of regret and longing that I never got over.

To me, it was the perfect way to let out my emotions. Listening to depressing music whilst working out, allowed me the chance to regret everything I had ever said to the specific boy, the way that I should have just been myself and say my truth from the get go, to the fact that if we were friends first, our entire emulsion of a situation-ship could a maybe gone a million times better.

What can I say, I have had no fear in embarrassment since the moment I met this guy, and yet I regret everything I have ever said to him. Sadly, all of my actions are put to the past and I can never do anything about them. (And i’ll probably never tell him how I feel)

And so, there I was listening to my playlist about love, all the while lifting heavy weights. You’d think I was guy by this statement, when in fact i’m just a girl who takes her anger out by pushing her body into doing excruciating workouts. I must say, it’s a great way of turning your sad emotions into something positive.

Anyways…. from the Blue Nile I rediscovered a genre of music that I had completely forgotten about. The kind that allowed me to silently yearn for an intense confession in the rain. The kind that makes you hope to someday experience the most intimate first dance to, “By you side”, by Sade, or the kind that urges you to re-watch the book of life for the thousandth time.

My goodness was I in a rut - more like boy am I in a rut. I mean as much as I love rediscovering an old love for specific genres of music, this time it just felt different. Rediscovering the genre of angst and passion and quiet love did nothing but make this little crush I had into something evermore soul-crushing. The replays that would sequence in my mind of everything that we shared. Every time we talked, or caught a stolen glance from across a room, each moment was added into the pictures that would form from each lyric.

In a way, this was my method of getting over him, or at least trying to get over him. Because I knew so much about him, yet still we were nothing. As if his idea was more appealing than what he presented in effort. Can I ever truly let go of him? Or, am I going to hold onto our little moments, even if we were - no, are nothing?

When you move around a lot as a child, you come to realise that there are hundreds of different types of people. You meet the ones who just happen to get a long with everybody, the people who just hate you for no reason, those who you’re too afraid to speak to and so on. In my life, I have moved over 9 times, 4 different cities, and as of recently, transferred to my 3rd high school in the span of 3 years (not by choice, by the way). By now, it would be expected that I’m a master at making friends - you know creating bonds, making memories and keeping relationships; except i’m not. It’s the opposite actually, for as long as I could remember it has taken me a strange amount of time to become actually friends with someone and even then they’re usually that one in a million who I’ll keep forever; I know that because we have that unspoken knowledge that whenever we do need someone we’ll be there.

Of course it can’t be like that with everyone; which was a lesson I had to learn the hard way.

I learned was that no matter how close you think you are to someone, they can always leave you for reasons that you had no idea existed. It can happen with your family, it can happen between your once closest friends, it can happen to any relationship you have… you won’t know what to do or what to say, in fact, you’ll question if you did something wrong constantly. You’ll have be a thousand questions that you’re to afraid to ask, and you will definitively be curious as to why they to left you behind. It will hurt a lot, and may even feel like someone stabbed a knife through your heart, or something will be missing, better yet someone.

The truth behind the hole in your heart may never find out. And you will have accept that you may never know why all of a sudden they disappeared and left you, you may never know how they think of you or if what they’re saying is even true. Because just as they are not you, you are not them, so neither you or your loved one will ever know each other's truths. That is a fact, for instance even if you do ask, they can easily say you didn’t do anything wrong and that they just want space. Only that the space they want becomes them never reaching out again, then un-adding you on all social media. Eventually it is as if they never even knew you, where at one they meant everything to you. Which shows how you never know whats going on in someone else’s mind.

It is hard to believe that people can willingly choose to walk out of your life and not utter the word’s to you, “goodbye.”, because deep down inside you know you would never do that, but again, you can never know 100% what the heck is going on in their mind- which is why it's okay to let them go. Let them walk away. They made that decisions through their power of free will.

Let them leave, and watch as time passes. It may, no, it will hurt a lot. But, accepting that we weren’t the best fit for someone is the best thing we can do. They made that clear the moment they abandoned you, which is why you can’t let them win. Let their loss hurt more than their worth.

You must keep pushing forward, keep living. Don’t be sad because they left, instead be happy that you got make those memories together in the first place. Make sure that you keep living, experiencing new things and making new relationships with new people. Let yourself grow beyond the person that you were with them. Even if you think that you were your best self around them, become better than that version of yourself. Use your pain and use it as motivation to do something great. Anything. Try new things, read that book, go to the movies and watch the worst movie you can find, or the best - up to you. Just make sure, you don’t let someone else stop you from becoming who you want to be in life. There are 8 billion people on this planet, and just because you weren’t chosen by one do not mean that you aren’t worth it, because you are.

And their lack of recognising your worth, them being able to leave so easily… it’s nothing short of their loss.

Don’t be ashamed who you are. Be who you want to be - as long as it is the good kind. Because loving and being comfortable in yourself is not a crime - especially in this world where being the same as everyone is what’s applauded most. Use them as a seed for growth and grow beyond what they could expect of you, because imagine if they did all of that and the next you saw them - instead of your heart dropping at the sight of their face - you are this secure, glowing person who radiates love and peace of mind.

Now, I’m not saying you have to move on. You never have to move on, you can stay in that restaurant and reminisce. You can go to that park that you once spent all night looking at the stars together. You can paint something in honour of the love you shared, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t let them be a barrier. Their decisions aren’t yours, and you at see that them leaving you was just another one of those decisions. Which are things you can’t control.

This is to a boy, who is tall, handsome, and everything in between. To the boy, who has everything I want, but for some reason does not want me.

Why did he take interest in me? Why did he reach out first?

Why do all those things, to just… disappear once I cared…

I have so many unanswered questions for him, like why her? She talks to every guy, and has a track record of un-loyalty, yet still, he chose her.. why?

I hate this feeling. The feeling of un-knowing and uncertainty; the mixture of emotions that I can’t express to him, because I will seem desperate and obsessed. I bet I am already the weird girl in his mind. The girl with no friends, no one to support her, and is constantly alone - the girl who is constantly alone and yet seems to bother him continuously because he was nice to her once.

To him, I am probably just the girl who keeps talking, the girl who won’t give up and when he see’s my notification he probably gets a quench of disappointment that it was the wrong person.

I know that this is how he see’s me, so why do I still wait.. wait for him to want me and be interested in me, why do I still want to know more about him and learn every crevice of his being.

Why, don’t I just give up? Stop embarrassing myself?

Why can’t I stop myself from my desire care?