This dress feels a little too tight.

I feel kinda fat.

When am I going to start working out, jesus.

Do they notice how much I’m pulling at this dress?

I feel like my ass is just out there in the open.

You look anxious.

Stop looking so anxious.

How long has that guy been looking at me?

What is he staring at?

Do I have something on my face?

Does he notice this last-minute pimple that just popped up out of freaking nowhere?

I hate this.

When can we go home?

Is it bad if I ask my friend to go home?

We’ve only been here for an hour.

Shit.

Wait, is that girl walking up to me?

She looks drunk.

I don’t think I remember her name???

Dear god what is she going to say.

“Heyyyyyyy girl, how’re you!!”

 


 

I don’t really consider myself a “fake” person.

I definitely want to come across as “down to earth” and “genuine.”

Does consciously thinking that make me fake?

I dunno.

Whatever.

I’ve struggled with social anxiety for a long time now.

Some days it’s worse than others.

A few years back, I used to blog… a lot.

You probably noticed.

I loved writing about my thoughts.

My life.

My lessons.

Then I kind of phased out of that.

Again, you might’ve noticed.

Mostly because it got to the point where I hated going out.

It terrified me.

Because no matter where I went, who I was with, or what was going on,

Somebody brought up my blogging.

or my chaotic ~love life~

How it offended them or someone they loved.

How I shouldn’t have broken up with that guy.

How that guy should’ve probably broken up with me.

You know, casual party conversations.

 


I started to really care about what people thought of me.

I started to believe that everything that’s ever happened to me wasn’t mine to share.

Like they weren’t my own stories.

I stopped writing for a while.

It was too much.

It was all too much.

And the really shitty thing is,

I love writing.

I love telling stories.

I love sharing.

I love connecting to other human beings.

I love people.

And I was terrified of people.

It caused complete turmoil in my heart and thoughts.

What if I write about this?

No, then that person will be offended.

Okay, well what if I wrote about that?

No, then everyone will believe you’re a basket case.

I used to be bold.

I used to be brave.

By god, my first piece ever was titled “Welcome to the Psych Ward (It’s More Like a Vacation Spot” 

It doesn’t get much bolder than that, friends.

I was outspoken.

But anxiety crippled me.

It suffocated the joy that was bursting inside of me when I wrote.

I allowed the thoughts of other people to define who I was.

Not cool, man.

So I write this to encourage you to look at your choices.

Why do you do the things you do?

Do you make choices based on other peoples’ opinions of you?

Do you not drink in public because you don’t want others to think you’re a drunk?

Or do you not drink in public because you feel safer drinking at home with friends?

Are your choices fear based or faith based?

Do you post obsessively about your relationship because you want all of your followers to believe that you guys are perfectly, hopelessly in love and not self conscious about the relationship?

Or do you post about your relationship because you are actually over the moon happy with this person?

What types of choices do you make?

For a long time, mine were fear based.

100%.

But I’ve learned over that past few years that who I am is not based on someone else’s opinion of me.

I am whoever I decide to be.

You are whoever you decide to be.

I’m a writer.

I’m a sharer.

I’m a story-teller.

I’m a comeback kid.

I’m Becca.

I am a lion.

And I am bold.

 

(Featured Image by: Alyssa Jiosa)

 

It came back.

I’m not sure how.

I’m not sure when.

It could’ve started when I lost my best friend.

Or when the love of my life no longer wanted to be mine.

Maybe when I couldn’t afford to feed myself for a few months.

Maybe it was a combination of everything.

There’s only one thing I know for sure,

It’s back.


The haze.

The haze that moves in like a sickening fog

Covering everyone and everything I’ve ever loved

Skewing my vision.

The haze that wraps me up like a soft blanket

But I feel no comfort or solace.

Just colder


This dream state of emotionlessness smothers my every move

My every expression.

I feel nothing.

I want nothing.

I am nothing.

Everyone’s presence exhausts me.

How can I seem interested in their stories when mine is just a bundle of blank pages?

I’ve lost myself.

Faded out of my own story.

And the one thing remaining?

The haze.


A storm will come.

Clean out every crevice until the haze is diffused into nothing.

That’s what happened before.

So I sit.

And watch the clouds.

Waiting in painless agony

for that very

first

drop.

Okay the title may be a little aggressive

But it’s meant to come across as urgent.

Because you need to just freaking say it.

Immediately.

Like right now.

Do you not know what I’m talking about?

That thing you’ve been dying to say for the past month, year, decade, entire life?

Those words that have been slowly rotting inside of you desperately trying to claw their way out of your mouth and into the world?

Still not catching on?

Okay, well let me tell you some stories that will clear things up.


My sophomore year of college,

I went a little…

well…

Crazy.

I was struggling with some pretty violent mental illnesses that devoured my ability to empathize with other human beings.

I had an immense sense of pride.

Several people chose to walk out of my life around that time because they weren’t able to handle my negativity or aggression.

I was impacting them in extremely hurtful ways.

I was toxic.

But I couldn’t admit it to myself.

ME?!

TOXIC?!

No way,

I was perfect.

I had never done anything wrong or purposely hurt someone in my entire life.

Everything was about me and my well-being

No one else’s.

Looking back on it now, I realize that I wasn’t trying to hurt these people that I loved so dearly.

I just wasn’t in the state of mind to admit that I was wrong or unhealthy.

I demanded support without giving any back to them in return and it was unbelievably frustrating.

My stubborn little head could not wrap itself around the fact that I could be

Potentially

Maybe just a little bit

Wrong?

In turn, the consequences were absolutely disastrous.

My loved ones were dropping out of my life like flies

And I couldn’t stop it.

Or wouldn’t, I should say.

Because now thinking the entire situation through up, down and sideways,

I could’ve stopped it.

By admitting I was wrong.

And I could’ve actively tried to mend these disintegrating bridges by swallowing my misplaced pride and telling these people just how much I loved them and that their relationships meant way more to me than a stupid, popular blog or my newfound proud reputation.

It’s a lot easier said than done, though.

I’ve been given the very fortunate gift of new relationships and friendships that completely changed my way of thinking.

When the time came and fights occurred with these loved ones,

They always reached out

Called me at 4am,

Wrote me a letter,

Knocked on my door at 3am,

Just to say sorry and tell me that they loved me.

It shattered my beliefs.

Because I appreciated it so much when they showed me how much they cared and that they were willing to bury the hatchet while I was running around with said hatchet and actively destroying my relationships.

It all taught me something very, very important.

Sometimes it’s okay to say “I’m sorry” first.

It’s okay to say “I love you and you mean the absolute world to me” first.

It doesn’t mean you’re weak or admitting defeat.

It means you’re choosing love over pride.

And trust me, love will make you MUCH happier than pride.

I chose pride over love my sophomore year and it ate at me slowly and relentlessly for years.

I thought about it constantly.

I’ve had nightmares about that time in my life that leave me sobbing in my bed in the middle of the night.

And sitting in my bed in a pathetic little heap of miserable-ness didn’t make me feel very proud

Or loved.

I made the wrong choice.

Pride is never greater than or equal to love.

So now I’m here to tell you,

You don’t have to make the same mistake I did.

If you’re in a fight with somebody you care about immensely but neither of you will just lay down your weapons for 2 minutes to apologize and hug it out,

Be the first to just freaking say it.

If you’ve spent the past three years completely in love with someone who doesn’t know how you feel because you’re terrified it could end your friendship and ruin everything,

Just freaking say it.

Because who knows what will happen and even if the feelings aren’t reciprocated, at least they know there’s someone in the world without a selfish bone in their body who loves them unconditionally. It is an absolute honor to be loved by you.

If you’re afraid to speak out for something you believe in because you’re afraid of being torn down by the masses and it’s caused you to sit in uncomfortable and unbearable silence,

Just freaking say it.

A mob with pitchforks and torches will most likely not show up at your house.

(If they do though, pls don’t hold me responsible. I’m just an emotional blogger who doesn’t know anything)


It’s never too late to make amends.

It’s never too late to tell someone you love them.

And it’s never to late to admit that you’re wrong and apologize.

Even if you’re not wrong, apologize.

Because is your pride really worth losing one of your favorite people over?

The answer is no, by the way.

So just freaking do it (as Nike says).

Just freaking say it.

 

 

facebook – Becca Tremmel

instagram – @littlelionbecca

twitter – @littlelionbecca

 

It’s raining harder than it has in years.

The city is asleep as it prepares for another hectic Monday morning.

The pavement glows underneath her as she runs from her car to his doorstep.

She’s breathless

A ball of anxiety

But pounds fearlessly on his door anyway.

Minutes pass as she stares at the ground and bites her lip.

Finally, he pulls open the door.

Shocked.

They haven’t spoken in several months.

But months of silence couldn’t suffocate the four years she’s spent completely in love with him.

Should’ve known better.

She thinks to herself in hindsight.

They stand in complete silence.

Until finally,

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence.

Her eyes slowly lift to meet his.

Those perfect, innocent green eyes that have kept her mesmerized for years.

This is it.

They’ve never kissed, surprisingly.

She thought about kissing him every day for four years.

This is it.

This is it.

This is it.

Her mind trips over itself thinking and re-thinking over every possible reaction he could have.

This is it.

She loses eye contact with him when she closes her eyes and inhales the last breath she will ever breathe not having kissed him.
This is it.

All she needs is ten seconds of blinding courage

This is it.

Her legs carry her to him with wavering confidence

This is it.

And she places her hands on either side of his puzzled face

This is it.

And pulls her lips to his

This is it.

And the past four years of frustration,

Anger,

Depression,

Guilt,

And heartbreak

Slowly melt away

Drop by drop

With this one kiss.

The kiss we’ve all been waiting for.

And everything that has bruised her,

Stung her,

Left her broken on the bathroom floor,

Or helpless on her knees

Suddenly all made sense.

Because all of those moments

Brought her to this moment

With him.

And she decides that she would live through those painful moments a thousand times over

As long as they always ended right here

Right now

Her lips on his.

His heart against hers.

I’m not sure who the eff “he” is.

He could be your ex,

He could be some guy you’re crushing on hardcore but don’t want to overwhelm with your feral emotions,

He could be your boyfriend who we’re currently mad at because he did that annoying thing again,

Or your mailman.

For whatever reason,

You don’t want to call him.

That’s fine. I’m sure there’s a good reason.

I got you, girl.

Whoever he is, here are 55 things to do instead of calling him.


1. Go on a hike. The fresh air will do ya good.

2. Call an old friend who you haven’t talked to in over two years.

3. Paint your nails a crazy color

4. Take a nap

5. Drive to a neighboring state and spend the day exploring

6. Read a self help book

7. Write your own self help book

8. Adopt a pet and then cuddle with it

9. Grab some margaritas with your bestie

10. Learn how to play the harmonica

11. Watch every Lord of the Rings movie plus the bonus features (that’ll kill about 15 hours)

12. Drive around your town blasting the full “1989” album plus those bangin’ bonus songs

13. Plan a birthday party for a friend. I don’t care if it’s six months in advance or if you only know her though math class.

14. Throw caution to the wind and re-download Tinder

15. Hate yourself after receiving your first “send nudes” message and then re-delete Tinder

16. Or send nudes. You do you.

17. I lied. Don’t send nudes.

18. Go to a shooting range and take some shooting lessons

19. Write a strongly worded letter to congress about a current issue/law that pisses you tf off.

20. Watch clips from the Teletubbies and re-discover how effing creepy those things are

Teletubbies-371606

Good. Bye.

21. Create a workout schedule that’ll give you a bangin’ bod

22. Pick up some extra shifts at work

23. Or apply for a job you helpless, unemployed potato

24. Look up the sound frogs make when they’re afraid and laugh (Watch this)

25. Look up the sound zebras make and be as confused as I am (BUT WHY DO THEY DO THIS)

26. Get a haircut.

27. Delete random pics on your phone that are just taking up space (maybe delete some pics of him while you’re at it)

28. Learn how to cook

29. Cook something

30. Clean your apartment

31. But really, clean your apartment… It’s getting bad.

32. Get distracted while cleaning and look through the crap people wrote in your high school yearbooks

33. Stalk people from high school on Facebook.

34. Write a letter to him

35. Then set that shit on fire

36. Make a pinterest board with just pictures of baby animals

37. Take the Myers Briggs test. You’ll be entertained for at least two hours, I swear.

38. Create a blog !!!!!!

39. Cry yourself to sleep because now you’re just an emotional, oversharing blogger just like me

40. Go to a coffee shop

41. Join farmersonly.com just because

hqdefault

#YouDontHaveToBeLonelyAtFarmersOnlyDotCom

42. Buy succulents and up your #aesthetic game

43. Start learning French. Bon Chance!

44. Read the bible (we all need to at some point)

45. Plan a weekend vacation

46. Figure out what type of tattoo you’d get if you were ever brave enough to get one

47. Screw it, get a tattoo

48. Maybe download Bumble instead of Tinder. I only want what’s best for you <3

49. Find your old Gameboy Advance and play your favorite game

41X3B28XR7L

Gotta catch ’em all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

50. Start a new hobby

51. Make a list of the top 10 places you’d love to visit

52. Decide what your favorite song of all time is

53. Try eating a really healthy dinner #kale

54. Give up and order pizza (maybe you’ll find love with the delivery guy)

55. And if all else fails and you’re about 3 seconds from calling him, just toss your phone off a bridge. That’ll DEF keep you from calling him.


 

Good luck, girl. I believe in you.

Love,

Becca Tremmel

 

Facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @littlelionbecca

I’ve never been one to speak openly about my Christian faith.

I’ve always been terrified of judgment and ridicule.

I’m scared of people reading what I have to say only to point out my past sins while exclaiming, “Yeah, you must be a VERY dedicated Christian.”

The truth is,

I am flawed.

I have a terrible potty mouth.

I’ve gossiped about people who I don’t know personally.

I’ve gossiped about people who I know extremely well.

I’ve even keyed someone’s car before.

I am completely flawed and I surely don’t consider myself “role model” material.

But I do know a little bit about suffering and how it’s ultimately brought me closer to God.


These past six months have kicked my ass.

(Excuse the language. We went over this. Flawed)

I was positive that I wasn’t going to graduate college due to my every present procrastination and lack of motivation all last semester,

I lost my sweet kitten days after my graduation,

I almost lost my own life in December due to a serious infection that left me in a hospital bed and incapable of breathing on my own for weeks,

A very important relationship in my life came to a screeching halt,

Many of my close friends have packed up and left for the summer or for good,

I’ve showed my music to some noteworthy figures in the music business and most of the reviews were very discouraging. One even used the words “bland” and “uninteresting,”

And finally, some of my past mistakes have come back stronger than ever to haunt my present.

Like I said, I’ve been a mess.

But I’m not here to complain.

Because I’m aware that I’ve lived an extremely comfortable life in comparison to many other people in this world.

And I try to thank God every single day for the little blessings He’s put in my path over the past 22 years.

I am unbelievably lucky.

However, I believe it is very easy to lose sight of all you have to be thankful for when you’re sitting in bed at 3am bawling your eyes out over your current suffering.


In the past, I’ve turned to some unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with my suffering.

My sophomore year of college I abused prescription drugs just to cope with the crippling depression I used to suffer from.

I used to root my self confidence in guys and how they treated me. I found self validation in whoever I was currently dating at the time.

I would try many strategies out before finally turning to God.

Whenever I found myself curled up on the floor crying myself deeper into this endless pit of suffering, I’d call someone.

I’d distract myself.

And I’ve been very blessed to have people in my life who have answered those desperate phone calls.

I did everything I could possibly think of before finally admitting defeat and turning to God for help and wisdom.

And every time I did, He saved me.


In the past six months, I have been given every reason imaginable to turn towards unhealthy coping mechanisms.

But I’ve done my absolute best to straighten my aim and walk on the clear path with God even when I had temptation calling out to me trying to coax me back into the woods.

It sometimes feels impossible.

Suffering is something that every single person in life will have to go through. If you’ve never suffered before and your life has been just butterflies and butterscotch popsicles, just you wait. It’s comin’ for ya.

We will all have hardships and we will all be brought to our knees at some point where we are faced with a decision,

Will we remain on the floor?

Will we turn to a terrible habit that will leave us further in the dark?

Or will we bring our pain to God and ask Him for help and wisdom?

It’s much harder than one would think.

It’s not easy to give up everything and do what God asks you to do in order to fulfill His plan.


And many people have asked me or brought up a question that I’ve thought a lot about recently,

“Why does suffering exist? If God is so good, then why does He allow us to suffer?”

And here is the answer (definitely still underdeveloped and definitely one that will not satisfy everyone) that I’ve come up with,

Although suffering is miserable and even horrifying sometimes, we would all be very weak and close minded individuals if no one had ever been through something worth suffering over.

Suffering is absolutely necessary. It is all a part of the human experience. As human beings, we have free will.

I can gossip and say hurtful things about someone that could leave them crying on their floor.

I don’t believe I’m walking with God when I make that decision.

However, even when we do end up in a pit of suffering I believe God can make something absolutely beautiful out of it.

I have never felt more connected to a human being than when we have bonded through a suffering experience.

There is no greater tool when fostering genuine human connection and love than suffering.

When large-scale tragedies occur and we’re all left hopeless, we do not walk away and leave the suffering to feel unloved or unworthy.

Most people come together and express their love towards people who they may not even know personally.

I think that is so beautiful.

And I know I am young, flawed, and I have the rest of my life to think about the answer to that question, but that’s what I got so far.

So if you’re suffering right now, just know that I love you and I’m rooting for you 100% and God is, too.

 

 

Love,

Becca Tremmel

 

facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @littlelionbecca

It’s  dark.

And you’re sitting emotionlessly still

For minutes

For days

For who knows how long it’s been

You can’t move.

Because if you twist your body

if you lower your head

if you so much as flinch.

You’ll feel it.

Aching inside of you.

Inside the part of you that the doctors can’t even get to

The part of you that your favorite person couldn’t even reach with reassuring words and unconditional love.

You’ll feel it.

Existing.

Some nights it’ll be aching so painfully that you’ll wish you could rip open a hole in your chest and finally just tear it out of you.

But you can’t.

So it continues to ache.

It continues to exist.

And you continue to sit still.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.


I sit next to you

Hopelessly.

I hold your hand until you can wander around without the aching bringing you to your knees.

I watch you drink until you can’t feel your limbs and you’re stumbling around the house,

Falling into doors and laughing about it.

I laugh with you.

I let you take advantage of my presence while saying words you don’t mean.

I love you,”

you say

Who am I sitting next to?

you think


I feel that I’m watching a child crawl around blindly in a cave they happened to stumble into one day while on an innocent adventure.

You fell into this cave.

A cave that is long and black and absolutely terrifying.

I know that cave.

I walked through the passages and screamed down the tunnels until my voice was just a scratched up whisper.

I know exactly where you’re at.

And I can’t do anything about it.


I want so badly to follow you into the cave.

I want to search through every single passage, inside every single crevice until I find you hiding in a corner waiting for me.

I want to hold your cold clammy hands, pull you up onto unsteady feet, and lead you back out of that godforsaken cave.

I want to find you.

I want to save you.

But I can’t.

Because I’d get lost, myself.

And that frustration is absolutely ripping me apart.

It’s destroying everything I am

And everything good I have ever believed in.

Because can’t save you. 

So, I’m begging you.

Please don’t ask me to walk back in there.

Because I would in a fraction of a heartbeat.

You know that.

But so many horrible things could go wrong.

What if we never found our way out?

What if the aching hurt so bad that one of us laid down to rest and then never woke up again?

What if we never laid eyes on each other again?

What if

What if

What if


So instead of running into the cave carelessly,

I will stand by the entrance

By the light.

And wait

And call your name

And tell you that I love you

And I’ll laugh when you drunkenly fall into doors while holding my hand

And I’ll watch your favorite movie with you twice in one day just so the aching is relieved for an hour or two.

And then

During one particularly sunny day,

You will emerge from this cave

Caked in dirt and blood,

Ache-less

And I will run up,

Pull you into the most satisfying hug you will ever receive,

Smile like a fool

And say,

It’s nice to see you again, old friend.

 

 

 

Facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter –@littlelionbecca

 

I’m not really sure when the rumors began spreading.

It was long before I knew who you were.

I’ve heard things.

A lot of things.

I heard that you went out on a few dates with some poor guy and then led him on for months while you happily watched him suffer.

I heard that you spilled all of your secrets on the internet just to get back at people due to your desperation for others’ attention.

I heard that you slept in a different bed every single night for a month.

And believe me when I say that, sadly, those aren’t the worst of them.


 

I listened to everything that was said about you.

I began to convince myself that I knew you and that I was well-versed in your life story.

If someone happened to bring you up, I had my opinion of you and your reputation ready to go just so I could add to the conversation.

I’d always ask if they knew you personally,

They’d say no.

They’d go on spewing rumors.

And I’d listen.

But then I heard conflicting stories that would disprove some of those rumors until nothing about you seemed to make any sense.

Then the realization hit.

I actually have no idea who you are. 

And I actually have no idea if anything that’s being said about you is true.

Because we’ve never sat down together over coffee and confessed our life stories.

I don’t know your middle name or what your passions are.

I don’t know why you and your ex-boyfriend broke up.

And I don’t know if all these horrible rumors about you are causing you to cry uncontrollably into your teddy bear every night while you ask, “Why is this happening to me?”

I don’t know. 

So why would I pretend like I do?


 

I’ve learned over the past few years that you cannot control what other people think.

You can send a love letter out into the world with the best intentions only to receive a note back saying, “Stop trying to get attention.”

You can walk around with your head held high with confidence radiating from your body only to hear a person mumble under their breath, “She is disgustingly full of herself.”

You can introduce yourself to somebody new with the kindest smile you can bear but they could be thinking, “Oh… I’ve heard things about her.”

You will never be able to control what anybody has to say or think about you.

And that can be maddening.


 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve thought horrible things about other people.

People I didn’t know very well.

People I knew like the back of my hand.

We’ve all done it. We’re all guilty. And we’re all victims. 

Unless I’m the only one.

If so… well then crap.

But I’m pretty confident that it’s not just me.


 

With that said, I’d like to tell you that I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for any rumor I’ve helped spread that was about you.

I’m sorry for judging you for the amount of guys you’ve kissed.

I’m sorry for any mean thought that has popped into my head while walking past you.

I am so sorry.

Because whether the rumors are true or not, nobody deserves to walk around a college campus while having to drag their horrible reputation behind them.

It doesn’t matter if the rumors are true.

It doesn’t matter if the rumors are false.

You can sleep in your own bed tonight or someone else’s.

You can go on dates with a guy and then stop for whatever reason.

You can do whatever the eff you want.

Because it is nobody else’s goddamn business.


 

We’re all allowed to make mistakes.

We’re all allowed to forgive ourselves and each other.

And wouldn’t it be nice if we didn’t have to hear about those same mistakes over and over again from other people for the next four years of our lives?

I’m begging people to stop. 

I’m begging people to just be kind.

Because I know how impossible life can be when the world is screaming, “Nobody likes you” back in your face.

Why would anyone want someone to think that about themselves?

I really hope you don’t think that about yourself.

Because you are so loved.

You are so important.

And I am so sorry for any harm I’ve caused you.

Don’t let anything that anybody ever says stop you from being exactly who you are.

Because odds are they don’t even know who you are.

So, please keep being kind.

Please keep being you. 

 

 

Facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @BeccaTremmel

 

 

Stop it.

Don’t you dare message her on Facebook.

I know, you already “liked” her most recent profile picture.

And you “favorited” her tweet last night that was some quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Maybe you even got a little freaky and retweeted it.

Wait, did you swipe right on her tinder pic?

Well then she has to know you’re interested by now, right?


This is considered flirting nowadays.

But what if, hear me out, what if..

You just went up and asked her out on a date.

To dinner.

In person.

*earth shatters*

We live in a world where confrontation is our absolute last resort and instead of a guy walking up to a young lady and asking,

“Hi there, I noticed you from across the room and I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me some time?”

They send messages saying,

“U got kik?”

Stop it.


Now, don’t get me wrong. I know why confrontation is mortifying.

What if she says no?

What if she thinks you’re a creep?

It’s absolutely terrifying putting yourself out there and making the first move. Especially when you’re not behind a computer screen.

But I’m going to let you in on a little secret….

Girls want you to ask them out.

We want to be sitting alone in a coffee shop when you walk up to our table and tell us we look nice that day.

Because if we’re being honest we spent 30 minutes deciding if our hair looked okay up in a ponytail.

We want to be walking to math class when you stop us and ask, “Hey, would you like to get dinner with me next week?”

We actually fantasize about it all the time.

We don’t fantasize about getting random Facebook messages saying, “U hav a gr8 body wud u wanna hang sum time?”

No.

No I would not.


I get it, guys.

Being vulnerable was never a walk in the park.

But if we really think about it… what’s the worst that could happen?

She could say no.

….and that’s about it.

She’s not going to laugh hysterically in your face and tell everyone at your school that you’re a pathetic sicko until your life becomes a black hole filled with despair and tragedy.

Unless she’s a character from the movie “Mean Girls.”

Then run.


People used to go on dates

Or that’s what someone told me once.

I don’t know if I believe them.

Because dating today is nonexistent. We don’t dress up in nice clothes and take each other to fancy dinners. We don’t take walks around the park or buy each other ice cream cones before going to see that awesome new movie that just came out. We don’t make commitments. And we only make promises just to see how burned the other person will be once they break.

We don’t date.

Instead we go to each others’ houses and watch Netflix until someone makes the first move. We have dozens of almost relationships that we label as “things.”

People don’t commit anymore.

And then they randomly stop talking to you one day and you’re sitting there like an idiot thinking “What on earth did I do wrong?”

But they never promised they would stay.

And you didn’t either.

We walk away from each other because we never care enough to actually stay.

And then we bump into someone else who just got out of an “almost relationship”

And we do it all over again.

Just because we can.

Messed up, isn’t it?


Well we can change it.

By being brave and putting ourselves out there.

So how do you get the girl properly?

You ask her on a real date.

You tell her she looks really pretty in that blue dress.

You take her to a fancy dinner.

You respect her boundaries and don’t try to kiss her on the first date.

You ask her out again.

You buy her lavender ice cream.

You hold her hand down sidewalks.

And you only kiss her when you’re both comfortable with it.

That’s all there is to it.

And that, my friend is how you get the girl.

 

Facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @beccatremmel

 

P.S. a girl can absolutely ask a guy out on a date properly, too. And guys can ask guys. And girls can ask girls. So go out and catch yourself a bae.

 

 

 

I think you’re really pretty.

I used to hate thinking you were really pretty.

I used to wish you were plain; I used to wish you were boring.

I used to wish you had dead bodies in your closet or that your Instagram photos weren’t so freakin’ cute.

Because maybe then he wouldn’t have chosen you.

But a few months ago, I had a life altering realization.

And that is why I’m writing this letter.


I’ve been wanting to have this conversation with you for a while because I feel that I owe you an explanation as to why I was in love with your love for so long.

I know he’s yours now.

But he was once mine.

And we were once happy.

For six months, I was the one who lifted him up and made him feel like a little kid. I was the one racing him down sidewalks and watching him scream I love you at the top of his lungs. I was the one wearing his high school t-shirts and sleeping next to him every other night. I was making him happy.

I was his.

Because you weren’t there.

He had never said your name before.

He had no idea that you even existed.

And I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy the days when you were nonexistent.


The months before I heard your name for the first time were the most beautifully tragic months I’ve ever lived through.

I remember the way he looked at me after he heard me sing for the first time. He counted how many times we made eye contact that night and it turned out to be about 30 times… We were kind of ridiculous like that.

I remember when I held his hand for the first time. We were watching a movie in my dorm room when he held his hand out and asked me to lie down next to him. I threw a pillow at his face because I was so embarrassed and shy… but after his third attempt, I took his hand anyway.

I remember when he accidentally told me he loved me almost every single day after we’d been dating for two weeks. I’d say something funny and he’d reply, “Ah… and that’s why I love you.” Then he’d run away screaming, “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT PRETEND I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!

I remember the moment I thought I realized he was not the guy I was going to end up with.

I remember being wrong.

I remember watching our love tailspin to rock bottom when I became insecure with the relationship and demanded unrealistic things from him.

I remember leaving him.

I remember regretting it.

I remember feeling so far away from God because I believed He had taken the only true love I’d ever experienced away from me like He was tearing skin from the bone.

I remember not leaving my bed for three months.

I remember hearing your name for the first time.

I remember crying.

A lot.

I remember the bad months just as much as the good months.

And I honestly can’t tell you which ones hurt more.


I sometimes wish I would forget all the sweet facts that make up who he is as a person.

But I memorized them as I’m sure you have.

We both know he’s an introvert who tries exceptionally hard to be an extrovert. We both know he loves capes for some reason. We both know he suffers from occasional crippling anxiety. We both know how much he loves milk. We both know he loves pulling pranks but is also terrified of getting in trouble because he’s a good boy at heart. We both know that he h8s h8ers. And we both know his darling mother means more to him than either of us ever could.

We both know him fairly well.

You more so than I.

But then again, you held his hand much longer than I did.


I never so strongly believed in a love like I believed in him.

He was the one.

Was.

Not too long ago, I moved on and I now believe in a new love.

A steadier love.

And I truly believe there is more than one person out there in the world that we are meant to be with.

Because if there’s only one, then wow, we’re all screwed.


So if I’m no longer in love with him… why did I decide to write this?

Because I want you to know that I feel no resentment toward you.

And that I just really hope you make him happy.

Because that is all I ever wanted to give him.

Happiness.

His happiness meant more to me than my own. I was unable to give him the happiness he needed.

And it almost killed me.

But I hope in the end everything works out better for you.

And I hope you get to be with the love of our lives because you really do deserve to be happy.

I hope that if you ever decide to leave, he’ll love you enough to stop you at the door and kiss you until you decide to stay.

I hope you turn around and promise that you’ll never leave his side.

I hope you don’t make the same mistake I did.

I hope you stay.

Because one of us has to.

And it’s much too late for me.

I hope your love lasts much longer than ours ever did, and I hope you don’t see me as his ex-love who is resentful because I no longer carry his heart around.

I’m merely the girl who was meant to love him right before you came along.

And even though I didn’t know that for a very very long time (I may not have known it until I finished writing this letter), I know it now. And it’s a role I’m not ashamed to play.

Because at least I got him for six months.

At least I had enough time to memorize him completely.

At least I have his love safe in my heart so I can revisit it whenever I miss him.

I do miss him.

A lot sometimes.

But I’m always reassured with the beautiful fact that he has you.

And you won’t leave him.


And that is why I wrote this for you.

Because I think you’re really pretty, and I think it may in fact be forever between you two.

And if you were meant to be his life long love story,

Then I’m just happy to be the prologue.

Love,

The girl he loved before you

.

.

.

Facebook – Becca Tremmel

Instagram – @littlelionbecca

Twitter – @beccatremmel