I can't be reckless with you

I have always been reckless with hearts. Not maliciously, not ever with the intent to hurt or play games. I've been reckless because I'm too quick to settle back in to what I know to avoid pain. The allure of comfort has been greater than the strength to walk away with a clear heart. Even when my gut tells me to walk away, I settle into the back-and-forth game, with-you-but-not-with-you, because it's easier than just without-you. It's easier than alone. And it always ends with an explosion, volatile, and it leaves hearts shattered when they could have just been bruised.

I can't be reckless with you. I can't play back-and-forth because I know how that ends. All I want is to run back into your arms, feel safe and loved and cherished like you've always made me feel. And for a while, because that's comfortable, it will feel so perfect and so right. But what happens when the restlessness starts, when I start to question everything? The resentment and anger a…

I almost forgot your birthday this year

I almost forgot your birthday this year -
I'm taking this as a small victory.

Two years ago, I started dreading it weeks in advance, knowing full well the turmoil I would feel that day. Just because it was you.

Last year, I thought about it for about a week beforehand. I knew you would be with your new girlfriend, wondered what she would get you as a gift, wondered where you'd go out to dinner, or if you'd just slum it up in redneck fashion.

This year it took me until the day before. At work I was writing myself a note - "To-Do, 3/21/19." I'd like to say it took me a split second to realize why that date mattered, but I knew right away.

Maybe next year I'll forget, but probably not. I'd like to think you're a new person now; you probably have scars I haven't seen yet, and I definitely do. I've realized I don't miss the person you are now, I miss the person I knew when we met. You were lighter then, hopeful, fun, easy. Today I don't…

the most fatal human flaw

You can spend years asking the universe for something, and then not be able to stomach it when it finally gives it to you.

a hat on a chair

Well, fuck me. I guess there's this thing where we always want what we feel we can't have. For the past almost 10 months we've been not-a-thing, but kind-of-a-thing. Recently it's picked back up again and, fuck it, I do like you (more than I would admit before). Introducing you to a few of my friends just sealed the deal, but for the first time you're backing off.

I didn't even realize how much it would bother me, but you left your fucking baseball cap on my chair. I see it every time I walk in the house, and I won't move it. I don't really know why, just that I'm being a stubborn asshole.

I'd like to say I don't know why you're backing off, but I can't blame you for it after I did it to you (twice - three times?)

You already know the story with me - I really don't want to get fucked over again, but I guess that's not how this works. I guess if you want something great you gotta open yourself up to be screwed. It wouldn't…


Right after I broke up with my first boyfriend, my mom took me to get my nails done in an attempt to put an end to my intense moping session. As I sat there struggling to maintain a conversation, I noticed the renewal date on the nail tech's license: November 20th. His birthday. It sent me for more of a loop than I care to admit, put a sick pit in my stomach, just another thing to bring him to the front of my mind when I was trying so desperately to shove him to the back.

Time changes things. Today, he's so far in the back of my mind, I didn't even remember that today was his birthday until it popped up on Facebook.

But now I have a new birthday to dread: March 21st, which should be just another fucking day, but I know I'll wonder what you're doing, how you're celebrating, if you're happy. And I wonder if you'll wonder the same things when my summer birthday rolls around, or if you'll even remember June 30th.

They say when you move far from home and…

nachos & beer

Last night, I went out for happy hour with a friend. We split fried cauliflower and chicken nachos with sour cream. I drank a few beers.

I went home and changed into my favorite pair of waffle-knit lounge leggings. Several years ago, I never would have worn something that fit so closely to my body, especially after eating. But last night, I didn't think about the food sitting in my stomach. I didn't sit on my floor and try to figure out how I would restrict my intake the next day to make up for what I ate. I didn't empty my stomach into the toilet and find relief in the burning in my throat.

I did look at myself in the mirror for a minute. Sometimes, I still get stuck in front of the mirror the way I used to. But what I see is different. I turned to the side and looked at my stomach, my legs, my hips. None of it was what you'd see in a magazine; I'm not perfectly toned or tiny or a "waif." But I look strong. Kickboxing and running have shaped my muscles a…

if nostalgia was water I'd have drowned!

I don't even know how I ended up back here. Actually, I do. Typical Chelsea - starting a post out with a lie!

To be honest I didn't even think this blog would still exist. I figured if I typed in the URL, some 404 error would pop up and I'd find a "sorry, this blog no longer exists because it's ancient" message. That made me a little sad, to think of all those words I'd written and read and reread, just lost somewhere on the internet.
So in the middle of the world's most boring class on taxation, I typed it in. It felt SO silly. Self-indulgent. Completelystaged - who even WAS I back then?
It's been 6 or 7 years since my last post. Can you (rhetorical you, as I know this site has long since dropped off the planet) even believe that? I don't even live on the same side of the country any more. There's so much - too much - to ever catch up on.
That being said, this blog was the greatest fucking gift I could have ever given to myself.
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