What a difference a year makes...

What a difference a year makes… or does it?

Most people probably don’t remember what they were doing a year ago to the day. Truthfully, I have a very hard time remembering what I did yesterday. But then, in those rare occasions, my mind plays tricks on me, and I remember certain moments with razor like detail.

July 28, 2017 feels like yesterday. Like a haunting nightmare I can remember with grave detail exactly where I was. I had just gotten back to a friends house in LA. We had went on one of our epic evenings. It was late, well early, but very late for me. Around maybe 1:00 a.m. I made my way from her apartment to my car. In true Los Angeles fashion, I had a bit of a journey on my hands because parking is trash. But considering my fitness journey is nonexistent I appreciated the mini walk back to my trusted Matrix.

I got to my car, and as I looked through my bag I got a text message. And though the number wasn’t saved, I knew exactly who it was from. I fumbled with the keys, open the door and flung myself into the driver's seat as I could feel the wind literally jumping out of my chest. I felt weak, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t feel… I just sat there, crying while a wave of emotions came over me that didn’t feel familiar, but rather felt like knives stabbing in the chest.

I read the words over and over. And it didn’t matter how many times over I read the messages, the context was simple. I don’t want you in my life anymore Kimberlee. And no, it didn’t say that, exactly, but it might as well have. I might have sat on the street corner in Los Angeles for an hour, wondering how tf I got there.

I was angry.

I was sad.

I was sick to my stomach.

I was confused.

Disappointed.

But mostly I was in need of more. More questions, more answers, more words. I just needed more. I called. Then I texted. Then I called, and then I texted some more. Everything being ignored, I tried again, and again, all to no avail.

I knew that day, that nothing would be the same. But I had no idea how hard the next 367 days would be…

July 30, 2018. Its 2:28 am. And here I am again.

Same story. Same person. Same message.

Same confusion. Same disappointment. Same tears.

And like the first time, there is no conversation, or meeting of the minds. NO mutual decision to move on… just me being pushed out of a story that I wasn't done figuring out. Again.

I know that history has a way of repeating itself, but damn. I cannot catch a break. I’m not sure what it is, but the month of July hates, generally speaking..

The truth is, I'm not sure what to do anymore. Seems like no matter how hard I try, the universe just doesn't see it for me.

When I speak, its too loud,

When I'm silent, I didn't say enough.

When I choose to forgive, nothing ever is forgiving to me.

When I want to communicate, I’m met with silence.

Truth is, i'm sure it me right. God made this way, and he knew that it would be hell for people to love me, even like me most days, and he did it anyways. HE made my strength my best and worst feature. He let me fall in love with words, and then let people use words to tear me apart. He made me hard headed, to the point of exhaustion. He made me do everything for people, only for them to tell me in text messages that it wasn’t enough. HE made me funny, and smart, and strong, sensitive in my own way… He made me show up, for everyone, all the time. He made me a hard worker, dedicated and loyal to a fault.

But he didn’t make me lovable. He didn’t make me a person people would be sad to no longer have in their space. He didn't make my friendship something people cherished and fought to keep in their life, even when shit got hard. He didn’t make me easy… easy to like, easy to love, nor easy to always be around. He didn't make me good at apologies, but he made me great at begging people to stay. He didn't always make me happy. He didn't make me very open, to emotions, to feelings, or to change… He didn’t make me a supermodel, or the girl that will find the perfect guy then ride off into the sunset.

HE made me a scapegoat. An easy target when things get rough. He made me the girl that you like, until you don’t like, and when you don’t like me, you want nothing to do with me. He made me the person whose feelings everyone thinks about last, if at all. He made me the girl who wants to fix things… who shows up, every time, all the time. I'm the one who prays for the people who want to see me fail. Still cares about the people who have bashed me, banished me, or simply no longer fck with me..  Who can’t stop wanting to do better, but fails a lot of the time. HE made the girl who laughs during the day, and cries alot, alone.

He made me a bit unlovable. An acquired taste of sorts, that most people cant always understand.

He made me this girl. Who now has received this message twice. Not with a phone call or real sense of empathy for my feelings but just a message that I am more bad than good. And with no conversation, and no closure, he makes me the girl who looks crazy, pushing and pushing... trying and trying, while getting little to nothing in return.

He made me the girl that believes everything my fault. Because just end. And I'm just supposed to be OK with that… over and over again. Producing the same situation, and setting me up for another failure of an outcome...
 

And who can blame them really… I know me better than I know anyone… I was fighting a losing battle. I’ve been here before, but I tried.  Tried to say the right things, do the right things… but sometimes deja vu is stronger than you. Sometimes who you are, the good, bad and ugly of your being, is simply bigger than who you are trying to become…

I hope one day you can see me.

What a difference a year makes...