In a Coffee Shop, Somewhere, You Sat Across from Me

We saw each other across the street after a year.

You didn’t seem to look any different, but I cut my hair and started working out more.

Your eyes, your brown, serious eyes bore into mine as we stared at each other from across the street. Time seemed to melt away and all the memories of happiness and sadness came rushing to me like the tide rushing to kiss the sand at a beach.

Finally, I snapped my eyes down and walked forwards trying my best to ignore your constant stare. Faintly, I heard my name and stopped. You walked up to me and asked if we could have coffee. You never liked coffee, but you remembered that I cant live without it.

We sat in a busy cafe – everyone seemed to be in their own world – and I looked everywhere except into your eyes that frustratingly anchored onto me. You broke the silence by asking how I was doing.

I chuckled a bit.

It’s such a simple question, but for me to answer would take days. I remained silent, my eyes focused on the coffee in front of me. You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out and we continue to sit there for a few more heart beats. Finally, words bubble up to my mouth and spill out without any filter.

I’m saying things at a hundred miles a minute, but nothing seems to be registering in my brain. By the end, my throat is course and my cheeks are stained with salty tears. I look up and the look in your eyes is one that I did not expect: regret.

It feels like my heart is breaking all over again and I tell you that I need to leave. Suddenly, you speak but its only a single word, “sorry.”

We’re both staring at each other, but neither of us seem to want to say anything. It suddenly hits me that I don’t want to hear sorry. I don’t want to hear anything from you. So I tell you that I don’t want to hear a damn apology, that I don’t want to hear anything from you because no matter what you say nothing will ever change anything between us. You broke my heart – smashed it into nothing but fine dust and threw it into the rubbish. I bought into all your promises of the future and the days we would spend together and the nights we fell asleep talking to each other. Nothing you say will ever change the fact that you told me that I was a mistake and that you regret ever being with me. Nothing.

You’re about to say something, but the waitress appears and offers us refills on our coffees. Again, silence engulfs us.

The truth is that I missed you. I look for you in every guy I meet. I more than often wonder if your name will appear on my phone, but it doesn’t help that I deleted your number and blocked you from every social media outlet. I think about what we would be doing if we were still together. When I see couples, I get jealous of them because I don’t have that. I hate you for calling me a mistake, but if you were to ask for another chance I would grant it. The truth is that I am still in love with you.

The truth is that you’re not sitting across from me.

The truth is that I am sitting in this coffee shop, alone, writing this because imagining you by me keeps me from calling. My coffee is cold, now, and I think it’s time for me to leave. So before I get up, I’ll pretend that you got up and walked away again. Now, you’re gone and I’m left in this little coffee shop – until you appear in my head again.


Dear Future Me

I’m sorry.

This isn’t a “goodbye” letter, but rather a “what I hope.” For the past few months I’ve been extremely unsure about everything and anything. I’ve faced so many setbacks and loses that I’ve seem to have lost the ability to be hopeful in regards to the future.

After everything, I’ve basically had to start from scratch, which has lead me to being skeptical about all I have done and where I am going. I am constantly asking myself, “is the decision I am making the right one? How can I be sure? What’s going to happen to me in a year, in a month?” I am not sure where I am heading and a part of me would like to think that it’s fate teaching me to be patient, but a part of me is too stubborn to believe that only fate will place me in the right places at the right time. How can something like that have such control over my life? Have I not worked hard enough to earn the things I wanted? So many questions, but only time is the answer and that frustrates me to no end because time has not been kind to me.

These worries and questions make me wonder about you (Future me). What are you doing? How much have you sacrificed? What did you sacrifice? Above all, are you happy?

Current you, the past you, would love to meet you. She has so many questions and so many things to tell you. She wants to apologize for all the hardships she has put you through, but she also wants to know about the hardships to come. She knows you regret so many things, but she also knows that those regrets are what’s going to make her into you. She’s scared and cautious, but she wants to hear what you have to say about her fears and worries. 

She wants to know if all the effort she giving, all the dreams she’s dreaming, and all the hopes she has will amount to something in the end. 

I want to be hopeful and sometimes I have no choice to be hopeful, but my power to do so has been compromised by all that has happened. I like to believe that you, future me, is happy and confident again. There has to be a silver lining somewhere in the cloudiest of storms, right?

I hope you are happy. I hope you’re ok with where you are. I hope and that’s all I can do, for now.

Scars are just memories

I saw a couple at work today and it reminded me of us. Well, I guess ‘us’ doesn’t exist anymore and it’s just you and just me.

I’m guessing that the guy was treating his girlfriend to a birthday dinner. He even looked like you. Many guys look like you, which is a consequence of living in Hawaii where literally all the people look the same. For a split second I imagined that it was you and me, sitting on a table that had a view of a serene hotel pool and the beautiful sunset of Maui. I stopped my imagination from going too far because you’re probably upset that I, the monster you fear, am thinking of you in any way. I know I don’t deserve to do that, but we all heal in different ways and at different rates. So I’m still healing the open wounds and scars that was left upon my heart.

I try not to think of you often, but it’s hard when all I want to do is tell you about my day or tell you a joke I came up with. I still remember how you loved puns, so when I try to leave the room if people are telling puns. Watching the news sucks because it’s 80% about Oahu, which is where you are and I really don’t want to hear anything about you because there are too many broken promises to think about.

I think a part of me is still hoping and wishing that you’ll talk to me, but the rational part of me knows that you’re never going to, which is a good thing. I think a part of me will always love you, but the rest of me will tell me that I don’t deserve to do that.

The rational part of me says to let it hurt. To let everything that reminds me of you in, so that I can let all the pain out. Let it hurt, let it bleed, and let it go.

In order to do all of that, I changed my hair and I changed my style. I rearranged my goals a little and tried things that I never thought I would do in my life. I did all of this, so that if or when you see me, you wouldn’t be able to recognize me. You wouldn’t be able to pick me out of the crowd and you wouldn’t hurt me again (or vice versa). I did it so that when I see couples that remind me of what was once ‘us,’ my heart will only hurt a little instead of calling myself a monster and unworthy. I did it to move on.


“A grande Americano with an extra shot and no room for cream please,” a woman in her late twenties cheerfully requested from the barista.

She was dressed in a black suit jacket, black slacks, and a bright red blouse with shoes and a coat to match. Her silk, chocolate hair barely touched her shoulders and she constantly combed her fingers through it, which caused it to be heavier on her right than her left. She wasn’t skinny, but fit from years of sports and most recently her new hobby – kick boxing. Her tan from summer was fading and her winter color was starting to take over. Her dark eyes, which were intensely focused on her iPhone, had slight bags under them and a fresh layer of makeup on top.

“Americano with an extra shot, no cream,” called out the barista.

“Thanks,” the woman smiled, grabbed her cup, and quickly shuffled her short Asian legs out of the coffee shop.

She briskly walked down the street and hugged her coat closer to her as a slight gust of wind blew. It was late October, but the weather was just starting to hit that crisp nip, so everyone still had their heavy coats stored in back of their closets and dreaded the day they would have to wake it from its slumber.

However, she didn’t mind the cold. The cold reminded her of childhood memories where she would bake chocolate chip cookies with her mother or the time she broke her arm ice skating and had to skip soccer practice for a week. Not a warm memory, but she was never a graceful woman and she accepted that. The cold also motivated her to get to her office quicker, which was filled to the brim with papers, but at least it was the perfect temperature.

Her head was slightly tilted towards the ground as she was lost in thought about her responsibilities for the day.

I have to notarize a few more documents, I have a skype meeting with one of my clients at 3:35. I can’t forget to file that motion, which I can do on my way to the bank at lunch. I have to-

“(Insert name)?”

A voice shook her out of her trance and her breath hitched. It was a voice she could recognize anywhere and at one point it was a voice that she longed to hear.

“Is that you?” A five foot nine man, who was her age, quietly asked on the busy street in the middle of a business district. She wanted to turn around and cry. She wanted to run. She wanted to splash her coffee in his face and slap him. Instead, she stood there with weak knees and shaking hands as time came to a screeching halt.

“Hello?” Suddenly, she let go of the breath she was holding and was surprised to find a tear rolling down her face. The man walked in front of her and tried to peer at her face, but she turned away. Why should she let him see her in this state after all that time she took to heal from the pain he caused. She refused to give him that power anymore. She refused to be that twenty year old girl, screaming in her dark room all alone while tears streamed down her face into the pillow that muffled her sounds.

Instead of answering, she walked around the man her age and didn’t look back. She could hear quick foot steps in back of her, trying to catch up to her, but she didn’t look back no matter how much she wanted to.

He suddenly manifested in front of her and she cursed her genetics for her short Asian legs.

“I knew it was you, even though you cut most off your hair off and lost a lot of weight,” the young man panted out. She finally allowed herself to look at him, which she immediately regretted. He was still handsome, not the type that would stop you in your tracks, but the type that you knew only you could appreciate. The type that had a heart of gold and the awkwardness of a turtle. The most genuine smile and consideration for others beyond Gandhi (just to you).

The type that you would forever hate yourself for if he ever got away.

She stood there staring at him as he stared back. Time always seemed to get away when she was with him, but for the first time ever it seemed to drag on. Then it hit her: he said he knew it was her, but he didn’t know her.

“You don’t,” she whispered.

“What?” He leaned in closer to hear her, but she stepped back.

“You don’t know me. You never have,” she needed to leave, but her body seemed to stay glued in that one spot.

A few moments passed before she spoke again.

“You don’t know me. You might have known a girl when she was twenty and naive enough to believe in every word that a young boy whispered into her ears. Words of promise. Promise for a future together. Promise for everything she could ever dream of. Promise that he would be by her side even in times of doubt. Promise that he would never leave her when times got bad. Promise of children and a house. Promise that even thought she was battling her own demons, he would be the support she needed. You knew that girl, you don’t know me,” she stepped around him.

“You never knew me either,” he shouted over the wind that seemed to grow with the tension building around them.

“You’re right, I didn’t. You didn’t let me. That girl you knew, she was young. She got angry easily, but trusted too quickly. Even after she told you about her past and showed you her demons, she hoped that you would love the broken parts of her as much as you claimed to have loved the whole parts of her. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. However, she doesn’t resent you for that. She can’t resent you, that’s the worst part. No matter how much of a monster you made her feel like, no matter how much pain you gave her in a form of a broken heart, no matter how betrayed she felt when you called her a mistake, and no matter how much she struggled to smile again after you left her, she couldn’t bring herself to resent you because that would mean she still cared,” she said and somehow she managed to keep her voice steady and calm.

“I never called you a monster-”

“Yes, you did. To you I was someone unloveable. Someone who was too much. Too damaged, too emotional. I was just too much and you were scared of that. You couldn’t fix me, but I never wanted you to. I knew you couldn’t and I never once asked you to. When you started to realize that I was too much, I stopped being the shiny new toy that you wanted. That’s all I ever was, a toy. Something new, something that gave you attention. But when you realized that this toy was too difficult to maintain, too much to handle, you tossed it away,” she finally turned around and stared him straight in the eye.

“You were the one who tossed me away first,” he said with venom in his words.

“I was upset, too upset to talk. It took me a while to calm down and I told you so. I never once said I didn’t want you or that I wanted to leave you,” she glared at him. She pushed her nails into her palm in order to stop her from crying in front of him. She promised herself that she wouldn’t cry anymore. No more crying over guys who didn’t care.

What felt like a century, passed before she spoke.

“You don’t know me. Please don’t ever say you do. If anyone asks you if you knew or know of me, tell them you don’t because you really don’t. After you left, I put back the pieces differently so that you couldn’t recognize me. So that I couldn’t recognize the old me. It took me months, years to learn and accept that I am not a monster and that I was only a new, shiny toy to you. I was someone who lived so differently from you, that you were curious and wanted to live a different life. I was used by you. I was a mistake to you, while you were a lesson to me,” she spoke with a gentle voice that held so much hurt and eyes that begged him to leave. He stood there with an unreadable look on his face and clenched fists.

“So I beg of you, treat me like the stranger you’ve always wanted me to be. That way, I wouldn’t be a mistake for you,” with those final words she turned away and left him to become a face that blended in with the many strangers that passed her on the streets.

Suddenly, they were strangers with the same memories, but she knew that memories fade, just like sadness and pain does. Happiness will come and until that day came she promised to forgive herself and those around her.

In More Ways Than A Girl My Age Should Know

“You know how it feels to walk away, but do you know how it feels to be walked away from?” I recently rediscovered this quote and it really hits a chord in me that I cannot describe. As I drove away from my work along the winding hillside, I realized that if this quote had a poster child, I would be that child.

For me this quote is like waking up and realizing that you’re eighty years old, alone, and sitting by a window watching the gloomy skies pass over. It’s like seeing your parent leave you in a park with a pink balloon, never to return to get you. It’s like hearing about the death of a close friend you haven’t heard from or talked to in years and you were planning to surprise him/her for her birthday. It’s like the ground underneath you opened up and swallowed you whole and no one misses you. You get it, it’s a feeling of sudden loss and the shock that comes with it (that you can’t quite come to terms with).

For me, this quote is like reliving the past two years.

Exactly a year ago, I was diagnosed with severe depression, social anxiety, and a form of PTSD due to emotional abuse. This was the nasty result of dating a borderline alcoholic. I would ask him not to drink so much because I would worry. He once blacked out three weekends in a row and also failed one of his classes that he needed for his undergraduate major. Our relationship got to the point where we were fighting all the time. When I was away at my swimming championship meet, he didn’t even care to send me supportive messages or watch any of my races online because he was too busy drinking with his friends. I was upset and thus said somethings that I probably shouldn’t have said, which probably exacerbated the break up. By the end (around Valentines Day – how ironic) he told me, “I don’t love you, I haven’t loved you in a long time. I’m happier without you and I don’t regret the break up.” Yea, that plus my instability did not make for a nice combination.

In a way, I am thankful that he decided to walk away. I am thankful that he chose alcohol and partying over me because that isn’t who I am. I am thankful that I got to discover that about myself and although it was through a harsh lesson, I was able to learn about myself and feel confident in my own skin. It still hurt that he walked away and the aftermath that followed was a bitch, but I learned so much from that year with him and the year after.

The next story I shall share is still an open wound that I am trying so desperately hard to heal. This short part of my life is what really made me understand that people always leave. Some leave forever, while others just take an indefinite leave of absence.

After going through one of the toughest and grueling years of my life, I was ready to turn over a new leaf and see what I could do with my new found confidence. I learned how to smile more and how to laugh freely. I learned how to talk to people and empathize with them. I made new friends and forgave so many people, including myself. It was time that I went back out into the world. That was when I meet someone who I thought would mean the world to me and for a while he did. The world spun a little faster, the sun shone a little brighter, and the ocean was a little bluer each day I spent with him. We moved really fast and he even came to visit me on my 21st, which was only two months after we started “dating.” He was the guy that I wanted to be with for a lifetime, I was the same for him.

Then he left.

I was upset, I was sad, I was confused, I blamed myself, I called myself horrible names (that I still believe), and I started to trust people less and less. After he walked away, I felt like a monster for having depression and lashing out. He walked away after calling me a mistake and I believed that I was an actual mistake because if I wasn’t maybe he wouldn’t have walked away. Maybe I am a living and breathing mistake, which is why life just seems to keep pushing me down and pinning me to the ground no matter how hard I try to get back up and keep going. Maybe he was right. One thing I know, well I don’t really know but I don’t talk to him, is that he is happier that I am out of his life.

Having someone be happy that I am out of his life is one of the worst feelings in the world. You were so important to him and he kept saying that he couldn’t bare to see tomorrow without you, but yet the next day he would rather have you disappear than spend another living moment with you. He calls you his soulmate, then the next day all you are is a huge mistake in his life that he never wants to remember. He tells all his friends and family how amazing you are, but now you’re scorned and hated.

The last tale I have for you tonight isn’t another love story.

It was during my sophomore year of college where I met my best friend, or so I thought. We would spend hours chatting and laughing at all the stupid things that I said because I was always the one who would say the most random stuff. She was having boyfriends issues and I tried my best at consoling her. She did the same for me. We were young and so full of life, the world was ours and we had so much fun learning about it. Then my first breakup happened and shit hit the fan. I didn’t know how to deal with myself and she didn’t either, but I mean who really knows how to deal with depression? I left for home and we stayed in contact, but I knew things were going to be different.

Fast forward to a year after, I found out that my first ex was being sued for $8M and I was ecstatic, but she told me to stop it and take down all my posts (which was basically a newspaper article that had no caption from me) because it was shamming the school and everyone around me. She told me that her watching me go through my depression was way harder than me actually going through my depression. I didn’t talk to her for a week. She moved out of our apartment and I hardly talked to her, but I tried to apologize for my actions and for yelling at her and being upset. She said she forgave me and that she still wanted to be best friends because that’s what best friends do. I thought all was well, but I learned that all was not well. Best friends don’t shove their best friend in a corner only to play with them at their convenience. They don’t cancel on them after making plans a week in advance or even a day in advance. They keep their promises for dinner and accept each other’s help. They have conversations, not confrontations and they sit down to discuss how they are really feeling and what they are going to do about the situation. They don’t just ignore the other, but that’s what I was. I was a rag doll that got pulled out to be played with every few weeks and then shoved back into the corner and told that I was not necessary. I tried my best, but day after day of being told that she was too busy to give me constant attention, attention that I didn’t ask for, I decided that I didn’t need to feel like a rag doll anymore. I just wanted consistency, consideration, and respect, but sometimes you don’t get that.

So for once, I decided to walk away. I decided to protect my heart and leave because I felt like I was being left behind anyways. I was not a doll for her entertainment. I am me and I deserve to be treated like me.

So, if you ask me if I know how it feels to walk away, I will say yes.

However, if you ask me if I know how it feels to be left, I will tell you, “in more ways than a girl my age should know.”

An Ode To You, My Friends (I Miss You)

About two weeks ago I walked across Linfield College’s stage in a black gown that made me feel like a roasting potato in the Oregon heat and received my degrees in International Relations and Japanese Studies. I was proud to receive my degrees and witness all of my friends do the same. I felt the enormous weight of stress fall off my back (until I got home and realized I needed a job to pay off my loans). I was excited, nervous, sleep-deprived, hot, and relieved.

But there was one emotion that I could not shake: I was sad.

As I watched my friends walk across the stage and receive their diplomas, I was so proud but I realized this would be one of the last times I would see them for a while. I was going home to Hawaii, my roommate/best/convenient friend was off to see the world, my beautiful bestie was going to Canada for her master’s, my brilliant and close friend was off to law school on a full ride in Oregon, another was going to go so far with her lighting and design, and so on. Everyone was going somewhere and I didn’t want that. I liked having my friends within walking distance. I loved being woken up to go do something. I didn’t mind being told to put on pants so we could go on an adventure. Suddenly, I was scared because I wouldn’t have the people who I grew so close to by my side anymore.

To my college friends, I miss you more than you’ll ever know but I know you’re all doing amazing things. Becoming friends with all of you was a much more meaningful experience than growing up with people. When I started college, I was nervous and hung-out with anyone. I didn’t want to be “that girl” who stayed in her room and hated college because I didn’t have any friends. The people I hung-out with in the beginning of our college careers weren’t my favorite people, but it was better than having no one.

After I met all of you, I truly understood what it felt like to be myself. I come from an island where girls our age have to be up to a certain par. We have to be bikini body ready, be able to do keg stands, and always look for the next party. If you’re not any of these, you don’t get called out to hang out and no guy even cares to look your way. I can’t and never will fit into that mold, so when I went to college I tried to be someone who I wasn’t. I partied, I drank, and I tried to fit in because I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

It’s not.

After meeting all of you, I felt like I could actually breathe. For once, I felt accepted and validated. It didn’t matter how many beers or drinks I could handle, it didn’t matter how many guys I could sleep with, it didn’t matter about how I looked or how skinny I was. I could talk and hold conversations with all of you. I felt like my words mattered and I didn’t have to hide behind a mask. I could confide in all of you and I learned about love, respect, and support. I also learned how to give that and although I might not have been the best person to confide in at times, I hope you know that I am always here for you.

The late and stressful nights with random pizzas will forever be etched into my memory. Going on random adventures to the supermarket and discovering the glory of the bulk section at Winco will be one of my favorite memories I will often refer back to. Learning what black ice was and not being able to drive home because I was scared shitless is high on the list (thanks Rachel, I would literally be dead if it weren’t for you). Driving back to campus in my drunk-friend’s car for the third time in a row, with a drunk friend in the passenger seat and having him imitate our professor is a pretty damn good memory. I will miss having dinners and staying up till 1AM although I had to get up early the next day. Calming me down, letting me sleeping in your room, and the hugs and supportive text messages after my breakup make me smile and remember how amazing my friends all are. There are so many, too many in fact, to list but I think you get my point.

I miss all of you. I miss you so much that I think about all of you everyday and wonder what you’re doing and what we would be doing if we were still together.

You all are etched onto my heart and I am so thankful for your presence in my life. Thank you for teaching me how to appreciate myself. Thank you for pushing me to be better than what I thought I was. Thank you for all the laughs and adventures. Thank you for so many ‘firsts’ (e.g. Salt & Straw, Winco, driving on the highway and black ice). Thank you for life lessons and teaching me what a true friend is. This blog doesn’t even come close to conveying how much I love and miss all of you and how thankful I am for you. I know that I will visit all of you in the future, but that won’t be for a while. I wish I could call all of you up and walk over to your apartment again because I haven’t left my house in two weeks (I literally have no friends because refer back to paragraph 4: “After I met all of you…”), but we’re all off on our own adventures. I love all of you.

The What If’s, The What Happened, and The What Is

On May 28th, 2017 I walked across my college’s graduation stage and received my diploma for Bachelor’s of Arts in International Relations and honors Japanese Studies. Three days have passed since and the idea of having a degree has yet to sink in. Even after flying home, moving back in with my parents, and planning what to do with my old/new room has not driven the idea into my head.

However, there has been a ton of reminiscing, imagining, and accepting.

After any huge occurrence in a person’s life, we take time to reflect about all of the little moments that have added up to a particular event. For example, choosing to go to that university instead of the other university; getting that car instead of the truck; starting a new hobby and gaining new experiences. The fact that I made a conscience choice to attend Linfield College, swim on the swimming team, major in my disciplines, make friends with certain people, study abroad, buy certain clothes, and so on have added up to this moment. What moment? Whatever moment I choose. Without those experiences, without those setbacks, heartbreaks, and accomplishments I would not be the person I am today. Although I could come up with a million other words to describe the emotions I am feeling, a simple word conveys everything: weird. It’s to weird that after everything I did, I did it for a 8 x 11 piece of paper that states I am now a graduate of Linfield College. It’s weird to think I will not be going back to Oregon and seeing all of my friends in the fall. It’s weird that I was able to become the person I am today because of all the shit I went through and the decisions I made.

Although I made it, I keep thinking about the WHAT IF’S?

What if I didn’t choose this school? Who would I be? Where would I be? I like to think that I made the right academic decision in regards to which university/college I attended, but I often think about “what if I went to a bigger state school?” Or “what if I stayed home?” I am proud that I went away from my little rock in the middle of the pacific ocean because although I hardly had any friends in the first few months of my college career, I came out with a new family, a new found love for academia, and so much more. The biggest what if that haunts me is “what if I was still with my ex?” If I was still with ex uno, I would probably still be in Oregon because apparently he has another semester to finish (which I could have seen from a mile away). However, ex number two is a questionable one. I would have came back home to Hawaii, no doubt, but would I be happier? Would I be more confident and sure of coming home to Hawaii? Would I prefer that, than staying up in the mainland? Would I still be friends with Casie? Would I be as close of friends with the wonderful people who became family to me? I think a part of me is still hoping for him to come back, but being the realist I am I know that even if I was the last person on earth, he would prefer to die than be aquatinted with a monster like me.

Next comes the WHAT HAPPENED.

I may wonder about many things, but I know I can’t go back and change the past. What happened, happened and we can’t argue with those facts. I think being in the political science and international relations department made me understand that facts are set and that we cannot expect change unless people change themselves first. What happened to me (e.g. heartbreak, disappointment, rejection, etc), happened and no matter how hard I try, it will always be a part of me. I am proud of that fact. I am proud that those who chose to leave me, left me because I refused to be anything other than me. I am proud that I failed a few times, but that only motivated me to work even harder. I am proud that I was denied my dream job because now I can learn to be flexible and do what I want. I am proud of all that happened to me because it made me stronger in the end. There are days where it’s unimaginably difficult to accept these facts, but day-by-day I will learn to appreciate them for what they are.

Now, we stand in the WHAT IS.

I have been watching Sherlock (season 4 is killer and I am still recovering from The Final Problem) and John keeps saying, “it is what it is.” The past is the past, we have to deal with the present. I could keep reminiscing and dwelling on the what happened part of life, but that would get me no where. There are moments we have to let ourselves to that, but we have to pick ourselves up and accept that “it is what it is.” I may not be where I want to be, but this is only temporary. The hardships, the rejections, the pain of heartbreak, the sadness of leaving, and all of that will eventually become mere memories of the past. However, right now I have to deal with where I am now. I am still sad over my breakup because I thought I would be able to actually have some one who chose to stay, but I that happened four months ago. It is time to let go because those who let go of you first, should not be held onto. It hurts to know that I wont be going to Japan in July (and honestly everyone around me is just as shocked as I am considering my reputation and abilities, and if those interviewers could see how many people and who were shocked I am sure they would have regretted their decision of not letting me in), but I just have to try again. Although I am sad I left my friends in Oregon, I know I will be back and I am just where I am temporarily. To me, that is the best part of what is. The what is, is always changing so we’re never stuck. We constantly have to recreate ourselves, but it gives us a chance to become someone better. We have to recognize that and take the chances that are presented to us in order to become that person we have always wanted to become.

Despite all of that, there is one thing that I am not very excited about and that is living with my parents again. Lord have mercy on me for the time being.

Second Chances and The Worst Parts

If you wanted a second chance, I would give it to you.

It’s not that I am waiting for you or hoping that you’ll come back. If you wanted to try again, you would have already said something to me. With each passing day and each mile that separates us, I am able to accept the reality that you never loved me and that you’re never coming back. I am ok with that, or I have learned to be ok with that. Those few months I spent with you were the best I have ever had, but I learned that you wanted a relationship and I wanted love. You wanted someone to hold, I wanted someone to share my mind with. You wanted to post cute pictures, I wanted to live in the moments and experience all the ups and downs. You wanted the easy way, I wanted the the easy stuff and all the in between. It’s been three months and eleven days since you said “I don’t love you like I thought I did.” It’s been about two weeks since I’ve learned how to smile again. It’s been about a month since I’ve stopped checking my phone every moment for your name. It’s been a long three months and eleven days, but here I am surviving without you.

I am quite proud of myself actually. Last time I went through a break up it took me about a year to get my shit together (granted 99% was because I was emotionally abused and those scars do not go away). I’m still not comfortable with being around couples, but I am slowly learning not to be judgmental about them. Those who have a wonderful and strong relationship are lucky, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to have that one day. I’ve come a long way and I still have a ways to go, but at least the journey to self recovery isn’t as difficult as it was last time. Granted, I still can’t listen to certain songs but in time I know all will be back to normal. I have come so far.

Yet, when I think about it, if you did come back and looked me in the eye and said “I want to try again,” I would give it to you in a heart beat.

That’s the worst part about me. I might cut someone out of my life, but I know deep down that I would give him another chance if he asked for it. There’s a possibility that I am just thirsty for love or maybe it’s that I am naive and too soft.

No, I don’t think it’s any of those. I’ve grown up with the idea that everyone deserves a second, third, fourth chance. Everyone is human and they make mistakes, so why should they be denied the chance to prove themselves? That’s the worst part about me: I give people too many chances.

While giving them chances, I also give up my chances.

It’s like credit. If I let them take the credit for what I have done, they’ll be praised and their reputation will flourish. I would be happy for them, but that leaves me in the shadows. It leaves me with no reputation and no chances for promotion.

When I give people chances, I somehow end up with nothing in the end, but I don’t mind it. I don’t mind giving people another piece of my heart, but that is the worst part about me: I don’t have any more pieces to give, but I still give.

I’ve been broken way too many times because of this, but each time I break I somehow love the next person even harder, which makes it even harder for me when they leave and they all do leave. Those who are broken love twice as hard because they know what it feels like to not be loved. It’s not fun and it quite frankly sucks, but that’s the worst part about me: I continue to love even when I don’t have the energy or mental strength to do anything.

I don’t open up to many people, but those who have seen me open up understand that I am a huge marshmallow underneath everything. I melt at the sight of puppies and I giggle at things that make school girls giggle. I would go out of my way to make sure my friends are safe, happy, content, full, and warm. I am fiercely loyal and I don’t judge you based on your preferences or past. My outside is cold and hard, but my insides are warm teddy bear hugs.

You might have ripped my heart to shreds and beat it with a stick while it was bleeding on the ground, but in all honesty I would give you and anyone else a second chance. I would give you the biggest death glare, but I would eventually crack and say “ok, one more chance.” Even if you fuck that up, I would still give you a chance.

So if I give out chances, why can’t I ever get another chance? Why does everyone else get a second chance and I’m left questioning if I was ever worth a single chance in the beginning?

2017, You Have Been Nothing But Bad to Me

I didn’t get into JET. Not even offered to be placed on the waiting list

I didn’t get accepted into the US-Japan internships I applied for

I got rejected for almost all the jobs/internships I have applied for

I‘ve worked for more than nine years learning a second language, studying abroad for a semester, working my ass off to be part of the Japanese honors society at the post-second educational level, just to be told that I am not good enough. I have a GPA of 3.4 (not the greatest, but still pretty good), I qualified for honors in Japanese, I tutor international students in English, and America students in Japanese. I studied Japanese history, memorized line after line of Japanese speeches, and I was told that I want not good enough to be place in the JET program, in any internships, or jobs (not only dealing with US-Japan, but other jobs as well).

I don’t know what more people want. I don’t know what more to do. I am honestly losing hope for myself.

I got dumped by the one guy who I thought I could have a future with (who promised me the future and more)

I don’t know what happened to one of my friendships

My college swim team thinks I would be better off not existing (in fact I honestly believe that they would not really care if I did end up in a ditch somewhere)

People are constantly leaving

I don’t know what is worse: working hard and not getting what I know I deserve or people constantly leaving you. It’s exhausting to deal with not only employers thinking you’re not worth a chance, but also having people who you confide in leave you because you’re not worth a damn to them. I have very few friends and that is because I pick my friends carefully. Most of the time, I choose people who are amazing, but sometimes I choose people who are as flaky as croissants. I know everyone does this, but having been dumped when it was our first big fight, then finding out that I was not even offered any position in JET (which all the people who knew me were surprisingly upset and utterly shocked by that decision), and having so many people turn their backs on you WHEN YOU LITERALLY DID NOTHING is really frustrating.

My car broke down four times before the dealership deemed it unfit to drive

I broke down in my roommate’s 2016 Honda Fit

I ran into my emotionally abusive ex

Just once I would like a day or month to go smoothly. I would really appreciate it if I could go about my day without worrying something might happen. I have tried to stay positive, but nothing seems to be working. I have done everything I could, but I am not good enough for others, I am not pretty enough, I am not fun enough, I am not enough. I know that, but that is why I try. I try so damn hard, but life seems to want to keep pushing me to my knees and leave me there.

It is May of 2017, this all happened over a course of 4 months (and some in 2016). When is life going to say, “I made you suffer enough, here’s a break.” To God, Buddha, whoever is watching over me, please, please, please let me just catch a break. You have not allowed me to feel ok since May 2016. Please, I am begging you to just let me see the light at the end of the tunnel. There is so much more that has happened, but I don’t even know if I would be able to fit it all into this one blog post. Why is life testing me? When will I be good enough to pass? When will I be able to prove myself? I can’t see the end of the tunnel.