New, non-broken phone, same bitch. And this bitch is now 27 and tired of some real bullshit. So here goes the tea.
(Before I start the bitch ranting, I know I have to do a birthday post, like the one from previous years, as well as "what I did this birthday" post, because that shit was something else. This will happen in due time.)
Do you keep old messages? I'm gonna bet that there are some of you reading this who will say yes. You will follow that answer by automatically trying to defend your actions. Okay, stop. I'm not gonna try to crusade your asses. That's not me. I can't stand tall as if I don't do this because I do. I am so guilty of this, I'm horrible. So, so horrible. Last year I was talking to this fuckward named Marcus. That shit ended horribly, and I'm not allowing myself to go anywhere NEAR South Lake Tahoe, but I still have those messages. They're still in my old phone. And now in my "new" phone. I am living in the past in some ways and I need to cut that shit right now. And so do you. I wouldn't try to preach something I don't practice. I'm not a hypocrite like that.This isn't just a call out post for you, dear readers, but for myself as well. Jen, you have stop living in the past. Reader, you have to stop living in the past. If, for some reason, this bothers you, I can only guess that it's because you still have those old messages and you look at them occasionally, and me telling you you're living in the past is hitting too close to home. And this is why this post is for you.
Can I admit something awful about myself? I delete those old messages, but not before screen-shooting them, transferring those pictures to my laptop, and deleting all evidence from my phone. Can you be any more tragic, Jen? I can, but this is not that post where we find out how much more tragic I can be. Some mysteries aren't meant to be solved; just like some birds cannot be caged.
Moving on takes many forms. And even though I'd like to say that I don't need to move on, I do. I let these guys have a bit of me, and when they move on, it hurts. So me having to move on, it's not easy. I have to take steps. I'm not going to declare that my way is the best way. Or the easiest way. Or the most painless way. But it's MY way. It's how I move on. It's how I reclaim my space for myself, and remember my strength, and eventually forget all about how special some serious piece of shit made me feel. And once you know the best way for you to move on, I want you to claim that for yourself.I want you to always do whatever you need to, until you reach that point in your life where you don't have to. I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't wait to reach that point of my life.
Until then, kiddos, whatever your moving on process includes, it should at least have a step where you delete those messages. Me? I'm deleting Zach's messages right now. Zach, you...whatever. You're not even worth the effort it takes for me to find the words to insult you. A few days too long I wasted on talking with you. Au revoir, asshole.
A click later, and it's like he never existed.
That feeling after that click? It's the best feeling ever.
Idk about the rest of you, but I'm feeling optimistic about 27.
Jump Into the Fire, a Harry Nilsson cover by LCD Soundsystem