Tennessee Melancholy … a poem

**So I was cleaning up my hard drive/files and came across this little poetry homage of sorts to Nashville that I wrote a few weeks back when I was feeling especially nostalgic and homesick. Thought I’d share. 🙂  xoMESSIE**

Tennessee Melancholy -10/18/2015-

Been away just a few months now,

Feels like forever, sometimes.

And oh, how I miss those Sunday afternoon rides.

Those leisurely Interstate 65 drives;

Just Nash FM on the radio and I.

To my left and my right,

Beheld the prettiest of sights.

Green rolling hills that stretch for miles with no end.

Far away, beyond the horizon.

And skies so cerulean blue.

Tennessee, home sweet home, oh how I miss you.

Taking walks by the Cumberland,

Its’ surface rippling just the slightest in the Southern wind.

And flowers still bloom in Centennial Park,

Long after the Summer’s end.

And nothing compares to the view from Shelby Bridge.

Downtown on Broadway and 1st Avenue,

The streets are alive with music and spilling over with tourists.

Come dusk, the locals know best to steer clear and altogether avoid it.

Down in the Gulch is where you’ll find the dreamers—

the poets and painters.

Those altruistic, optimistic peace-makers.

The East side’s been busy, reinventing itself and all that.

Having worked hard and taken great strides.

Many would even say that it’s been gentrified.

Unless, of course, you hail from the West,

Who still believe they’re better than the rest.

Though why they think that—is anyone’s guess.

Walk the stage at the Opry,

Take a tour of RCA Studio B.

Stand where all the legends have stood.

Feel the glory, feel the awe.

Say you came, and you felt; and you saw.

Follow that roundabout to Music Row,

That opportunistic corner where they take nobodies and turn them into “STARS”.

“Nashville’s no city”, they say…”just a really big town”.

And now that I’ve been—I know they’re not wrong.

It’s true; you really can’t help but feel like you’re a part of it all.

Especially when the people are as welcoming as they are.

And you can’t explain how you know,

You just know that you do.

After so long running and aimlessly searching,

Never feeling like you truly belong.

You can rest, settle down.

Make a life for yourself.

Just let it all out.

The past, your fears, your insecurities; all your doubts.

You can let it all go.

Once and for all.

Now that you’ve finally found a place of your own.

A place to call HOME.

For me, it’s right here. .

My home sweet home.

This little big “town”.

Music City, USA.

The one and only,

Nashville, Tennessee.



Film Life : Green-Lit.

Had an eventful day today. We launched/premiered the film online today…so “3 Blind Boys On The Block” is officially LIVE. Having said that, I’d love love looooveee it if y’all would take a minute (*well 20 minutes, to be exact) to check it out and share it with whomever you know.

Here’s the link : “3 Blind Boys On The Block” – A Short Film.

I assure you, you won’t be disappointed. And that’s not the bias talking because of my involvement with the film or me trying to whore-it out either. I really do mean it. It’s a great film that has such an incredible message to share about racism and identity and what it means to be an African-American man or woman in American society today. It’s so great that it just won the coveted Best of Fest award at our Chicago premiere a couple of weeks ago, in fact. It’s raw and it’s powerful and it gives a new voice to the #BlackLivesMatter, #AllLivesMatterMovement ‘s that are so actively prevalent in today’s world, particularly with all the violence and brutality and racial tension that’s made the air so thick you could almost cut through it with a knife.

Personally, I don’t see why we have to disassociate ourselves in the first place. I mean, why do we have to separate ourselves by the color of our skin? It’s JUST skin. Does it really matter what color it is? I mean, inside we’re all the same. We all bleed the same RED blood…so why does it matter? It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. And yes, it does. Even now, after all these years…after we fought so hard for our civil liberties and equal rights…and we still have those people being mistreated and brutalized and killed because of the amount of pigment they have or do not have in their skin. And it’s fucking ridiculous–pardon my language. And it’s not just white people against the blacks either. There are plenty of black people that are just as bigoted and mean-spirited and racist as your average Klan member. Prejudice is everywhere. And it’s not something that’s inherited. It’s taught. It’s learned. It’s that little white boy at the park who just wants to play in the sandbox with the other little boy but his Mommy tells him he can’t because that little boy is black–which essentially translates to: “that boy’s “Teen Mom” is probably a high-school dropout living on welfare to support the two of them because the boy’s father is likely either locked up, dead, or just your typical dead-beat that chose not to be in the picture. When you’ve had those kind of stereotypes drilled into you for so long–and especially starting at such a young, impressionable age–it’s only a matter of time before it becomes a creed of your own and a belief that you share as well. Even though it’s hateful. Even though it’s wrong. It’s what you’ve been told. It’s all you know.

That has to change. Parents need to start teaching their children to love and accept and treat one another the same–regardless of their differences–and teach them to look beneath the surface and further in to see what’s really there–and what truly matters…to recognize that we’re all human and that we’re capable of being so much better than we are. Of being so much more.

I can’t express how truly grateful and proud I am to have been given this opportunity and to have worked alongside such an incredible group of people on such a beautiful, inspiring, thought-provoking project. I’m so proud of my friend Alan and I’m literally just in awe of his talent. He’s destined for greatness and I have the honor of calling him a friend and experiencing this all with him. It’s exciting and amazing and overwhelming…but in a good way.

Speaking of good things…we also got green-lit for our feature film version of this film that we just finished…which is pretty flippin’ awesome!! Pre-production has already begun and we should begin production early Spring 2016. I can’t wait! It’s going to be a crazy, busy time. Alan’s going to be heading off to San Francisco for a film program in February, so it looks like it’ll be Matt–the other producer–and I running things with the Production company from headquarters  in Nashville in Alan’s stead. Did I say it was going to CRAZY!?

And to think…I was only supposed to take some background pictures of the auditions. Now, here I am talking production lingo and business-y like things and making conference calls and evaluating interns and building websites…the list goes on and on… it’s absolutely CRAZY.

But I love it.


To Paris, With Love.

The other day my five-year-old niece Ava told us that if she had one wish to make, it’d be for world peace. A five year old said that. Completely out of nowhere, un-coached and totally unexpected. We were all just sitting around the dining room table engrossed in some unconnected conversation and that just popped out of her mouth. It being Ava—the little queen of saying THE utmost random things at THE most random times—we just laughed it off and continued the conversation. When she said it again, I think I asked her why that was and she just gave me that knowing little smirk of hers, shrugged, and said, “’Cuz it’s a good wish, that’s why,” and went back to playing with her dolls.

Standing in my grams’ living room tonight, seeing the horror unfolding in Paris on the television screen, all I could think about was how desperately I wished it were only as simple as that—as wishing for something and it being so. I envy that innocence and that hope I saw in Ava’s eyes when she told us her wish, I really and truly do. I envy her because she doesn’t yet know the horror and evil that exists in the world…or that there are real, living breathing monsters out there who have no conscience and who have zero disregard for the value of human life. But what breaks my heart is that she will find out some day. And what scares me the most about when that day does come is that if the world is as horrifyingly screwed up as it is now—and that’s putting it nicely—then godonlyknows the kind of HELL it’s going to be in ten or fifteen years from now when she’s all grown up and about to make that first solo plunge into that very Hell/world herself. THAT scares the hell out of me.

Innocence aside, I wish I had her optimism. I wish I could believe that humanity will prevail. That good will triumph over evil. I wish I could believe that the fighting and the violence and the bloodshed will end. That we’ll come together—the human race—and unite as one—forgetting about status and power, and race, gender, sexuality, religion, and politics—all of it…and just connect as human beings. But I don’t. I don’t believe that’ll happen. Not in my lifetime. Not in hers, and sadly, probably not in her kids’ lifetimes either. It’s just not likely. After all, the human race has been engaging in conflict since the beginning of time, so much so that it might as well be embedded into our DNA. It’s as though we thrive on it…as if we can’t survive without it. And that’s something I don’t think I will ever understand.

Don’t get me wrong, a little conflict isn’t always entirely destructive. It can be constructive, with precise and careful application, of course. But this kind of conflict—this isn’t constructive at all. This is just destructive. This is murder. Terrorism. Pure evil. Killing, taking hostage, and wounding hundreds of unsuspecting, INNOCENT people at a concert and in restaurants for what I’m almost certain will turn out to be some messed up kind of political and/or religious statement is deplorable and a blight on humanity. It’s both sickening and heartbreaking to watch and see video and images of all those terrified people and see the number of the dead continue to rise. I may not know any of the victims or anyone over there, but my heart still breaks for them and for the city of Paris right now because in times like this, it doesn’t matter what country you’re from or where you are…we’re all human. We all feel the loss. We all mourn the innocent. We all fear what lies ahead…

Paris, Je T’aime.


humans but no humanity

Tough Love: Remedy or End-All.

So the Bestie and I are on the outs right now…at least I think we are. I’m not entirely sure. Confusing? Yeah, I know…welcome to my world. There was an exchange of texts/messages this weekend and well…yeah.

A little bit of back story here…her and the boyfriend had been on the outs/broken up/done—whatever—several months ago to the point where she was talking of moving out and getting her own place…and then—as per the usual with those two, they conveniently made up and things were going great, or so she said. Then about a month or so ago she got ahold of me to tell me how she’d gone through his phone and discovered that while they were broken up (but still living together and for all intents and purposes still together) he’d hooked up with not one, but THREE other girls. She was livid and hurt and swore up and down that she’d had it. That she was through with all the bullshit and was finally done with him, for good.

She even asked about going back down with me to Nashville when I went back. I even half-entertained the idea for a few days. By that I just mean that as much fun as it sounds like it could be when we talk about it—her going back to Nashville with me—it’s not something I ever see happening. It’s not her, so much as it is me…which probably sounds kind of selfish, but it is what it is. And if I’m being completely honest here—I really do think one of the reasons why I love Nashville so much is because it’s just me there. There’s no drama or distractions to knock me off course, now that I’m finally walking the straight and narrow. Not that I’m saying the Bestie is either of those…but like it or not, she is representative of a past that I worked like hell to overcome and to leave behind when I left New York for Nashville. And maybe I’m overthinking it too much, but I can’t help but worry that having her—or anyone else for that matter—down in Nashville with me will somehow undo all that hard work and the progress I’ve made since January. And there’s the freedom factor, too. I love this newfound independence…the ability to go and do as I please…to be whom I please. I love the fact that my life and the relationships I’ve formed in Nashville are almost entirely separate from the life I had and the relationships I had and those that I still have in New York. I’m not ready to give that up…not just yet, anyhow. I’d like to enjoy it a little bit longer, if I can…for as long as I can. If that’s selfish, well…then so be it. I’m only human after all, and let’s face it—we’re all a little bit selfish sometimes.

Anyhow—so she went from supposedly being done and 100% ready to pick up her life and move 900 miles away a month ago, to having made up yet again and things being “better than ever” between them. All in the span of like two weeks, give or take. I wish—just this once—I could say that I was surprised…but I wasn’t. Not in the least. The only thing that did surprise me was my diminishing patience with the whole situation. I’m usually quite good at reigning in my patience when it comes to the ridiculousness of the situation between her and him, and keeping a lid on my opinion. I usually have no problem keeping my mouth shut, or if need be—telling her what I know she wants to hear. But I’m finding that I’m growing weary of it all, of playing along. This time it’s been a real struggle, but I’ve tried to be a good friend. To sit there and listen to her go on and gush about how great things have been…and talk her out of the temptation to message one of those girls he’d hooked up months back on Facebook. She wanted to call the girl out, trash her over the Internet, and basically rub it in the girl’s face that she and he were together and happy and that the girl had meant nothing to him. I talked her out of it, but it took a lot of persuading—far more than it should have. I pointed out how pointless it would be, how childish it would be… how she was unnecessarily asking for trouble by opening up that kind of can of worms. She actually tried countering back with the whole “easy for you to say because you don’t know what it’s like” response. Boy, did I shut that little misconception down fast. I pointed out that I did too know by reminding her of the infamous Disaster of 2009 of mine. She said I didn’t know what it was like or how it felt…but she was wrong. I do know what it’s like to want like hell to call out and lash out against that “other woman” who resides at the top of your Most Despised list simply because she had/has him, the one you want. Granted, my particular situation was a little reversed and a hell of a lot more complicated, but the root logic remains the same. But unlike her, I didn’t have a caring friend looking out for me who was there to talk me out of making what turned out to be one of the most life-altering mistakes of my life. Rather, I had just the opposite—a jealous, conniving, two-faced, so-called “friend” at my side that had her own little agenda when she went and pressed send that day before I could stop her. Once I got past the panic of the deed having been done and accepting that there was nothing I could do about it, part of me thought that I might actually feel some satisfaction from it. That exposing the truth would make me feel better and set me free. But that was the foolish assumption of a girl that didn’t know any better. Neither of those things happened. If anything, I felt worse…guiltier…more ashamed. And as for freedom—that one mistake set into motion a chain of events that left me trapped in a world of nothing but pain and misery and hopelessness for a long time…TOO DAMN LONG. But considering she was pretty much oblivious to any of that—or even there for it really—I guess I can see why she’d think I wouldn’t know what it’s like.

It’s exactly that which irks the hell out of me…the fact that I’ve been there, I’ve ALWAYS listened…while she hasn’t done either—not really. I get so mad when she acts and talks like I don’t know what she’s going through or like I haven’t walked through certain situations or worse…when she acts as though her problem and/or situation is “way worse” or somehow more important than mine—despite their very close similarity or in some cases, identical composition. That bugs me. Always has. And it still does. Sometimes I wonder why I keep my mouth shut and my opinion to myself when she never once bothered to silence hers when it came to me and what’s-his-name. She had no problem telling me what she thought of him and I and the situation. She’d tell me all the time how dumb and naïve I was being, that I didn’t love him and that I just thought I did, and how—mark her words—doomed the relationship was from the start. When she’d tell me how I was nothing but a hook-up for him and that he was just using me—though she knew I hated and how much it hurt hearing it—she was never the least bit remorseful about it. Rather, she’d just tell me that she was being honest and that I’d see—it was for my own good, whether I realized it or not.

The fact that she turned out to be right about him is irrelevant. It still hurt. Just like it hurts that she’s never really a shown an interest in the relationships I’ve had since him. I can’t help but wonder if she realizes just how one-sided this friendship feels to me some times. In all honestly, I think that’s part of the reason why I’ve been so distant in recent years and why we’ve gone so long in between hang-outs. I mean, there’s only so much sitting there and listening and being there for someone else that a person can take when they themselves have so much going on in their own lives–things that they, too need and would like to vent and talk about but feel like they can’t or that the other person doesn’t really want to hear about or will even care if they were to be told. Maybe I’m unfairly judging what she may or may not be interested in hearing…I don’t know. I just feel like we’ve grown so much from the people we used to be some times, you know? And it’s hard. So I have to take a break some times. To recharge. To deal with the mess in my own head to make room for her problems. Then–because I still consider her a friend and it’s just not in me to turn my back on a friend in need–I’ll be there for her…like always.

But in the years since then, I’ve never responded in kind or given her a taste of her own medicine, so to speak. I’ve never treated her that way. Have I been tempted? You bet I have. And it’s been damn hell hard, by the way. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been tempted to speak my peace and tell her just what I thought of that loser boyfriend of hers and their whole situation. I don’t know why, but I never liked the guy…even from the beginning. Partly because he screwed up her and I moving to NYC, sure…but also because there was just something about him that didn’t sit well with me. For starters, they moved way too quickly…I think it was like a couple of weeks or at most, a month or two, when they started living together. Everything she told me about their relationship seemed rushed and intense and had that whole “too good to be true” vibe about it. Then came the incident they had early-on in the relationship where they got into a fight, he hit or shoved her, and she dislocated her shoulder—or ended up with some kind of injury to it. I knew then and there that he was an asshole. After all, I’d known all too well one of his kind myself when I dated my college BF, the lovely jock that liked to toss me around and knock me out whenever he got the urge. I told her that she should walk away then—but she didn’t listen to me. She made excuses for him. She stayed. Of course she did. After all…they were “in love”.

In the going on 3-ish years they’ve been together, they’ve broken-up and made-up more times than I can count. She’s shared with me the details of countless fights they’ve had and asked for my opinion and advice on the subject. And I’ve always given her the doctored truth—the half-true opinion and answer that I know she wants to hear because I know she doesn’t want to hear what I really have to say…and because I know that no matter how many times I tell her that he’s an asshole was is never going to change—she’s not going to take my word for it.

This weekend was different though in that I didn’t hold back as I normally would. She messaged me and didn’t go into too much detail, but from what I got out of it apparently they had a fight or whatever and it must have been pretty heated because she ended up at a hotel…that was gist of it. I didn’t even bother to ask what happened or press for details this time. I basically flat-out asked when enough was going to be enough and what it was going to take for her to see that the so-called amazing guy she fell in love with is anything but—or at the very least, is gone and not coming back. I was pretty blunt with my response…and I don’t think she was too happy with it because she responded back by basically saying that she knew she had some things to figure out, but that she was a little overwhelmed seeing that she had no real support system to lean on in the mean-time. I don’t know if it’s that I’ve been sick the past week with a nasty bout of bronchitis that I found out after spending a day in the ER earlier in the week has turned into full-blown pneumonia and I’m just moody and exhausted from that or what…but I took offense to her claim of having no support system. Granted, her family really has nothing to do with her and she doesn’t have much to do with anyone outside of the people she works with as far as friends go, but by her discounting having any support system at all when I’ve been here for her the whole time…well, that’s kind of rude, I think. I mean, granted—she and I haven’t actually hung out in person in ages and all—but every time she’s had a problem or needed to vent, I’ve been a phone call or instant message away. Every time. I don’t know if it was her intention, but her saying that made me feel like I should feel guilty or something for being a bad friend because I haven’t been there and because I moved 900 miles away and have a life/job that she’s not really a participant in and friends besides her. And that’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty for leaving. I mean, people leave. It’s a fact of life. We’re not kids anymore and this isn’t high school. Things were bound to change and we were bound to grow apart and have lives that didn’t entirely or necessarily revolve around or include one another. It’s called adulthood. I mean, do I feel bad for her? Of course. I think it sucks that she has to go through this and that he’s a jerk. I love the girl to death and I want her to be happy, but at the same time, I feel like I’m not doing her any favors by shutting my mouth and not pointing out that the only one who’s going to be able to initiate any kind of change in her life is going to have to be her. Maybe it’s not my place to say anything…but she wanted my opinion and that’s my opinion. She needs to stop making excuses and stop falling into the same damn vicious circle of breaking up and making up with him and then crying about how messed up things are or how badly things need to change every time that it happens. And I don’t say that to be cruel. I say it out of love. She’s my best friend. I want her to be happy and to be successful and to realize what I know—which is that it doesn’t have to be this way. She doesn’t have to be miserable all the time or go through this roller-coaster of emotions with him. She deserves better. I just wish she could see that for herself. Maybe a little tough-love is the push she needs to get there, I don’t know. But as her friend, there’s only so much that I can do. The rest is up to her. I can’t save her. She’s got to save herself now…


Hello (After All These Years)

“Hello” By Adele



Hello, it’s me

I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet

To go over everything

They say that time’s supposed to heal you

But I ain’t done much healing

Hello, can you hear me

I’m in California, dreaming about who we used to be

When we were younger, and free

I’d forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet

There’s such a difference between us

And a million miles


Hello from the other side

I must have called a thousand times

To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done

But when I call you never seem to be home

Hello from the outside

At least I can say that I tried

To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart

But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore


Hello, how are you?

It’s so typical of me to talk about myself, I’m sorry

I hope that you’re well

Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?

It’s no secret that the both of us are running out of time

Hello from the outside

At least I can say that I tried

To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart

But it don’t matter, it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore…



Well, thanks to Adele, I don’t think I’ll be getting this song out of my head any time soon. I mean, these lyrics…can we just talk about them for a minute, or five, or ten?!?! Ummm…Yes, please…


So (ladies)…we’ve all got our relationship hang-ups. You know…that one ex/should’ve-would’ve-could’ve-been-soulmate guy (or gal, if that’s your thing) that for the rest of your life will forever reside in the back of your mind as the one that either loved and/or hurt and/or wrecked and/or taught you the most. That sore subject…the bitter memory. The one that you-albeit unconsciously–compare any man you meet after him to. It’s the the mistakes you made with him that you now know not to make…and his character flaws that you know to look for and to avoid. Yes, that guy.


But there’s hope, if you just give it time. Years will pass. You’ll both move on. You’ll find someone new, someone who loves you for the real you…something he just never would, or let’s face it–never could. You’ll learn to love again…a man who’s twice the man he is. You’ll find yourself wondering how it’s even possible to love more than one person like that in one lifetime–hell, you didn’t even think it was possible–but you’ll find that it will be…that it is. Slowly, but surely, you’ll start to heal all your broken parts. You’ll learn to smile again. To laugh. You’ll feel joy again…without feeling guilty for it. You’ll get those butterflies when he walks in the room or his hand goes to the small of your back and with just a knowing look, a single touch, you’ll feel safe—like nothing in the world will ever hurt you again. You’ll slowly start to get back pieces of that girl you’d thought was gone forever when he left you there,  heart in pieces and your world turned inside out. You’ll start to feel whole again. Right now, I know it seems unlikely. Impossible, even. But trust me, it WILL happen.


That’s not to say that you won’t have your bad days. For sure, there will be moments now and then when it hits you…those painful, little flashbacks from seemingly a lifetime ago that’ll come out of nowhere, rob your breath for a half minute or two, and maybe take with them a few stolen tears on their way out. But if there’s one thing you can trust, it’s that with time, those days and those moments WILL get very few and farther in between. The only downside is that you’ll be cautious–because you’re conditioned now to build up walls and be on the alert when it comes to protecting yourself against love and heartbreak and smooth-talking guys with twinkling green eyes that tempt you with their delicious world of sin. You’ll hate that you’re so guarded now, but you have to be–as it’s better to be safe than sorry. Which is why you’ll go back and visit your family in your hometown, but you’ll skip the usual hotspots to avoid running into or seeing him out and about…because godknows you’ll take an uneventful week-long visit with family over the drama from him and/or anyone connected to your past, each and every time. And when the week is over, you’ll say your goodbyes and board the plane. You’ll fly to a home 900 miles away, contemplative and confident as you come to the realization that at some point in the past 6 years you managed to truly move on and grow up–and you’ll smile. It’ll be bittersweet. Admittedly, less bitter and far more sweet.


You’ll find happiness in the arms of another, take vows and make a commitment before God and all your loved ones. You’ll start a life together, take out a mortgage…and settle down. You’ll be happy, complete…whole. You’ll have the life you’ve always dreamed of…you’ll have everything…and so much more.


But moving on and letting go…doesn’t necessarily mean you forget that person. You never forget. Sure, you can try. Best of luck to you with that. You can shut yourself away; shut the world out for days, no contact with the outside world, nothing. You can try running and moving hundreds of miles away from everyone and everything. But distance doesn’t change the past or what’s been done. The hurt and the scars remain indefinitely. You never forget.

This song and these lyrics—for me anyhow—speak symbolic of closure, yet at the same time, they don’t. Closure—there’s that word again. So many want it—yet so many have no idea what it means. Or how to go about getting it, for that matter. There’s probably a good way and a bad way to go about it, I’m sure. Rebounding—while physically satisfying, I’ll concede, doesn’t help all that much. Okay—I take that back. It does for a little while, at first…while you’re still in the “hurt and angry as hell and I’ll do just about anything to lash out” phase…but once you move past that…yeah, all the rebound sex in the world isn’t going to help that broken heart of yours feel any less broken. It just doesn’t. Trust me, I’ve been there, I know. Some people find closure from an apology…and I understand the rationale behind it, I do. In fact, there was even a time when I would have given anything to hear one myself…a time when I actually believed that an explanation and an apology would somehow negate all the hurt that he caused…and that it’d give me closure. It was a ridiculous, naïve notion–for all the “sorrys” in the world couldn’t possibly make up for what was done. My life was irrevocably changed in ways that he will never understand or even know because of his actions and the choices that he made. He’s always going to be that bitter memory because of that. That hang-up that my mind always goes back to when songs like this come on the radio. He’s going to be the kind of man I warn my daughter to stay away from and the kind of man I can only hope my son never becomes. That’s not something an apology can fix. As for closure, I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s really no such thing. Granted, time goes on and you move on and ultimately it gets harder to recall the face and the name and the memories are fading from color to black and white, but you never really close the book…you just store it away. I guess if you want to call that closure, then call it that…even though it’s really not. I mean, it’s still there, available whenever to sift through should you ever have the urge, so it’s not really gone for good.


It’s easy to be bitter towards the person that hurt you the most—the one that lifted you up so high, just to break you down as cruelly and as destructively as possible—so easy. I’ve entertained the emotion on more than one occasional bout over the past several years myself…until I realized my energy was much more productive being used for something else. But that one hang-up—that exclusive ex that took our hearts for a bumpy ride—they’re always going to be there. We can choose to either let their background presence restrict our success and future happiness…or we can use him/her to find exactly who we’re meant to find and be happy with and to have everything we ever wanted with. The choice is ours. Personally, I choose the latter…



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