Breaking Up Is Hard To Do…

Breaking up is hard to do...Girl with braids looking into camera

…but the time comes when you just know.

Dear perfection, 

It’s over. And in case you were wondering, it’s you, because it’s definitely not me. I’ll admit, I gave you way too much power, but that’s over now. And for the record, I hope you take considerable offense to this.

You see, the thing is, you’re not real. You’re simply a far away dream. An unattainable reality. A lie. And I’m sick of giving this thing my all, and you letting me down again and again.

“But..what about the memories we’ve made? Won’t you miss those?” you ask.

Oh, yes. The memories. How could I forget?

Our so-called “memories” are ones where I am left bruised and battered in your wake. Like the times I cried in the mirror because what I looked like and what you looked like didn’t come close to matching up. Or the times when I made the honor roll, but you never forgot to remind me that it was the AB and not the A honor roll. Or how about whenever I was picked last, or even never, and you berated me for not trying hard enough to be you – because maybe then I would’ve been chosen.

Did I mention the lies? Yes, you’ve got plenty of them and they’re all so subtly wrapped in beautiful paper, like the IG discover page and teeny-tiny waists with (disproportionate) voluptuous backsides and bright smiles and hands holding and degrees waving.

And I’m so over it.

I’m sick of you flaunting yourself in my face, reminding me of how far I am from where you are. I think what I’ll be glad to be rid of most is your constant taunting and ridicule of my attempts to “get on your level” as it were. But I’ll be fine. I’m quite happy to let you go and not live my life in fear of letting you down once again. Because that’s all I seem to do around you. Let you down. Even though I give you my all and best effort, NOTHING pleases you.

You’re impossible.

And that is why – I’m breaking up with you, perfection. Even more so, I’m breaking up with the very idea of you. And the idea that any other human could ever attain you either.

It’s funny, because if I’m honest, I never really knew you to begin with. In this world, in this life, you’re not actually real. You exist merely in my mind. And I could beat myself up over ever letting myself believe that you could actually exist, but it would be a waste of my time.

Just like running after you is a complete waste of time.

So, here. Take your stuff back. Take the broken hearts masqueraded by fake smiles and SnapChat filters. Take your Cosmo, Self and Health magazines with its “untouched” and “real” cover models. Take your whispers of doubt and shouts of discouragement. You can have it all back.

I won’t be needing them anymore.

No, I’ll be just fine without you. And I know you’ll be back. You’ll be back begging for my attention and you’ll cling on to the hope that one day I’ll eventually come around to look for you. But I won’t.

Breaking up is hard to do. But believe me when I say this: it feels so good to be over you.

Photo by Alekzan Powell on Unsplash

2 Comments
Leighann

Twenty-something, lover of Jesus. I like animals (esp. dogs), Fun-Fetti cupcakes and yoga. I love God and do my best to love others. I hate too-warm weather and socks that fall into your shoes when you walk. I'm a huge fan of Christian rap and cold, sunny days.

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2 Comments

  • Jay Colby

    This is my first time being introduced to you blog. You have soe great content!

    But I agree breaking is hard to do, espically when you have deep feelings for the person.

    • Leighann

      Leighann

      Hey Jay – thanks so much for reading and visiting! I just found your podcast, and your blog as well and I look forward to hearing and reading more of your work!

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  • 𝒹𝒶𝓎 16 𝑜𝒻 31

Hot. No, it’s not what you think. As a matter of fact, when I first saw this picture I was horrified. I saw all that was wrong with my body, my hair and my skin—ugh. 
But you know what? No one’s perfect. And thank God I don’t have to be. Plus, my body was/is working just fine, my hair was moisturized, and my skin was poppin’. Trying to shift my moments of self-doubt and body-consciousness to thankfulness and positive self-talk. 
Also, the day this was taken was HOT, so it still counts towards today’s #augusteyecandy.

I don’t know if anyone’s told you today, but you’re made splendidly and you couldn’t be more perfect than you are right now—yes, even in this heat with your mascara running down your face. ttys 
S/O to @kayzilch and/or her awesome fiancé, Michael for this pic 📸
  • 𝒹𝒶𝓎 14 𝑜𝒻 31

5pm. 
It’s crazy to think that I’ve actually posted one picture on IG for TWO weeks straight. Especially considering all that’s been going on around me: moving back across the country for school, moving into my new place, actually starting school, remembering how to (somewhat) adult—throw in a little bit of anxiety, and you’ve got yourself the past two weeks of my life. 
All that to say—we made it, folks. We made it to today. And that is enough. You’re doing great—ttys
  • TW: Anxiety/Panic Attack

Anxiety is like a shadow that’s been following me around since I was about thirteen. I guess puberty marked the onset of racing thoughts, subtle hyperventilation and that queasy feeling you get when something’s just not right. I had my first panic attack at nineteen, during a new hire orientation. It felt like I was having a heart attack—my heart inexplicably began to race, my hands shook and I felt warmth all around me. 
I excused myself to the reception area and, in a panic, asked the receptionist if she could help me. She said to place my hands above my head and breathe. I paced around the lobby and breathed, eyes closed. Inhale. Exhale. I worried for a moment that I would die. Then gradually, my heart began to beat at normal pace again. My breathing deepened and my body cooled down to normal as I continued to pace, slower this time. The kind receptionist gave me some water to sip and sat me down until I was ready to go back to the meeting. 
Anxiety can feel like a high-speed train. Going 5mph one minute and 150 mph the next. It can also be subtler, feeling like you can’t quite catch your breathe and you begin to hyperventilate, in a way that is only recognizable to you. 
Although I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, anxiety has taught me the importance of coming back to the present. And how allowing myself to feel what is presently around me, can ground me and remind me that I’m alive. I’m safe. 
I share this story in order to start the conversation. Anxiety is a part of my life, whether I like it or not. I hope you know that first of all:

1. You are loved beyond measure and valuable even with your anxious thoughts and actions 
and 
2. You are not the only one 
ttys
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Home. For now anyways—is Georgia. The most asked question I get lately has been “Well? Are you gonna stay out there, or move back to California?” So, to help answer anyone’s burning question about my plans for the future, here it is:

Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s just get this last year down and then talk specifics, shall we? Here’s to one of my last first days of school. 
To my fellow cohorts: May we grow. May we care for ourselves and others a little better each day. May we get up the hills to our classes in one piece #UGA
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Sunday morning. 
Mmmm, tacos 🌮 so far, I’m learning to enjoy this new life stage: also known as adulting. I’ll admit, at times it’s a little scary and a whole lot of trial and error, but I know it’s all a part of the plan—even if it sometimes feels like nothing is going according to plan 🤷🏾‍♀️ #adulting am I right? 
Faking it ‘til I make it since ‘92.

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